Praying with Children

Miriam will only get ready for prayer if she is the one acting as the voice. It's kind of a new thing with her.

It's also kind of distracting for dinner prayers and family prayers and any other prayer except for her own personal bedtime prayer because she assumes that if you ask her to get ready for prayer you've asked her, by obvious extension, to also say the prayer.

"Get ready for prayer, please, Miriam," we'll prompt.

She'll quickly fold her arms and bow her head and start praying.

"Dear Father. Bless a day. Name of Jesus Christ. AMEN!"

"It's not your turn, Miriam. Fold your arms, bow your head, and be quiet."

"Dear Father. Bless a day. Name of Jesus Christ. AMEN!"

"Miriam. We just want you to fold your arms and bow your head not say the prayer!"

"Dear Father. Bless a day. Name of Jesus Christ. AMEN!"

Last night it was my turn to pray and I could hardly do so because we were all laughing so hard. Meanwhile, there's Miriam chattering on and on like a broken record. "Dear Father. Bless a Day..."

At one point Rachel, almost crying, begged for me to say the prayer because "Miriam [wasn't] praying for [them] to have good dreams," and she can't go to sleep unless someone prays for good dreams. Never mind the fact that we say bedtime prayers like ten minutes after family prayer and she can pray for good dreams then.

Today it was Andrew's turn to say family prayer. He managed to pray over Miriam's chanting (he only giggled a few times).

Truthfully, it's funny. And endearing. But, oh, it's distracting.

And that poem my mom used to always recite...

We close our eyes
And bow our heads
And fold our arms
While prayers are said.

...doesn't help much in this situation, either, because it doesn't say anything about quieting our little mouths or kneeling on our little knees and not purposefully falling over so we knock into the person kneeling next to us (*cough* Rachel *cough*) or having a general mien of reverence or anything like that. Maybe I should write another verse or two.

We shut our mouths—
Don't say a word,
Pass gas, or burp— 
While prayers are heard.

And if into
Your sis' you fall
You're kneeling wrong.
Sit still y'all!

Does that cover my bases?

Probably not.

Recently...

• Rachel has been complaining about going to school. Her preschool just doesn't seem as spectacular as it was last year for various reasons. I wonder if I should have her keep going or let her quit because I'd rather that she actually looks forward to going to school since it's something she'll be doing for the next thirteen years.
• It's been rather warm. It hasn't snowed since the last time, which was apparently 10 days ago. I could get used to this.
• I've been avoiding cleaning the bathroom sink but today I finally did it. *pats self on back*
• Things have been getting Christmas-ier and Christmas-ier around here. We have Grandma to thank for most of that.
• (At least today) I can't think of much to say so I'm really glad that NaBloPoMo is almost over. Tomorrow's December Eve.

Пирожки

Yesterday we had a family gathering at my mom's house since our family didn't really get together for Thanksgiving. Rosie was the photographer for that event, so I don't have any pictures yet. It was really quite fun. My sister Kelli was there with three of her kids: Rosie, Matthew, and Andrew. I was there with my girls: Rachel and Miriam. Uncle Patrick was there, as well as my mom and dad. We Skyped with Abra, who had two of her kids over: Piper and Malachi. Andrew (my Andrew) came for dinner but then left after dinner so that he could do homework (what else?). 

I think that is the first time we've had that many of the cousins "together" before. It was fun to get to chat with and watch Piper and Malachi get to know their Utah cousins a bit better. I haven't had my two oldest sisters in the "same room" in, oh, about a decade. 

For Christmas I think it would be really fun to get both Abra (in Canada) and David (in England) on a Skype conference call when we're all at my parents' house. (Josie, by the way, was in New Mexico visiting a friend for Thanksgiving which is why she wasn't home but she arrived back in Provo at around 8:00 and my mom and I went to pick her up so I got to see all of my siblings except for David; that's pretty cool). 

Anyway, Abra and her kids were eating dinner when we called. Usually Abra doesn't have her kids on Sunday evenings but there was a freak windstorm, with speeds reaching as high as 150 km/hr (which is high enough to be classified as a class 1 hurricane) and shingles were being ripped off roofs, windows were being blown out, and trees were downing power lines left and right, school was cancelled for Monday so her kids were able to stay over an extra night. Anyway...they were eating perogies for dinner, which got me thinking that we haven't had perogies in a long time.

A Night in Bethlehem

On Saturday night we went to the Stone Gate Center for the Arts in Pleasant Grove to "A Night in Bethlehem." Rachel wanted to dress up as Mary so we got a costume together for her, complete with the blue veil she insisted Mary wears. Then she decided she didn't want to dress up alone so I dressed up with her, but not as Mary, even though she really wanted me to. I wore my Palestinian dress. She wore a dress we got for her in Egypt.

As we were loading into the car, Andrew smacked his head on the van door—he had just buckled Miriam in and was trying to stand up quickly (a little too quick if you ask me) in order to ask me to grab a pair of shoes for her. He hit his head so hard he was reeling for the rest of the night. He's feeling fine today, though, and there's no bump on his head so it couldn't have been too bad, simply bad enough.

I was surprised at how wonderful the event was, really. It was about as accurately Bethlehem-y as you could get, being in Utah. They had a stall with live animals—inside the building—a basket weaver, a potter, a toy shop with dreidels, a bread shop with hummus, a rug maker, a school where you could learn to spell your name in Hebrew, and various inns (which were all full). They even had a well in the middle of the room with a beggar woman sitting beside it. I thought it was interesting to see how everyone avoided her, even though we all knew that everyone there was only acting. People avoided her gaze, the walked huge circles around her. I even began to feel guilty that I, truthfully, was not carrying any money and had nothing to give to her.

What an interesting social experiment it would be to sit around watching people interact with this beggar they all knew wasn't actually a beggar.

Cop out post

It was bound to happen at some point or other this month—you know, writing a post about nothing because it's twenty to midnight and anything I have to say will take too long to say so instead I say nothing at all. When your husband, who has been working on homework nonstop for the entire Thanksgiving break (which he said would be "almost free" of homework) asks you to play a game and share a bowl of popcorn with him because he's completely burned out, though, you jump at the chance.

Even if it's NaBloPoMo and it means you run out of time to write an actual blog post.

And so you write a cop-out post like this one.

In other news, Andrew has completed 3 out of 4 grad school applications. The clock is ticking and we still have to figure out how to get transcripts from AUC—Egypt is having parliamentary elections right now so school is out of session.

Two thoughts on that:

1) Hi. Why don't we get days off of school to vote? I guess when you've always been able to vote it's nothing at all like a holiday.

2) Um...we kind of need people to be working so that we can get our transcripts....come on!

Pizza Pit Party

To reward the primary children for a job well done on their sacrament program, our chorister hosted a party at a local gym that his family is very involved in. His wife coaches there and his kids are like gymnastic all stars (as in they get college scholarships because of their gymnastic skills). Anyway, Rachel has been talking about it for weeks now—they had to book the party when no other parties were going on so it was kind of spur of the moment this weekend—and dubbed it the "pizza pit party" because she was told there would be pits she could jump into.

When we got there she was terrified of everything. But by the time we left she was off running around by herself, jumping into pits, swinging on ropes, and so forth.

Christmas is coming...and so are the missionary kangaroos

On Thanksgiving Eve, Rachel asked whether Santa comes on Thanksgiving or Christmas because she couldn't quite remember. I told her that Santa comes on Christmas.

She sighed and said, "And you're sure tomorrow's only Thanksgiving?"

We've been talking about Christmas decorations for weeks now—I think Grandma decided to put up a little bit of her train this year—and the girls are getting excited for Christmas. Miriam doesn't quite understand what presents are and when you ask her what she wants for Christmas she'll tell you she wants pink. She was going around yesterday telling everyone what colour they were going to get for Christmas. She was mad at Grandpa so he was assigned brown. Rachel, on the other hand, was in a favourable light at the time and Miriam said she'd get "pink—same a' me!" 

Uncle Patrick told them what he actually wanted for Christmas—wool socks, a poncho, and a rolling pin (I didn't understand the rolling pin at first but today he explained that he wanted it for physical therapy not for making pie crusts). Rachel looked up at him and said quite thoughtfully, "Well, we're going to a place where there's lots of Santa's workers and things—and maybe even Santa will be there—and Grandma said that you can tell them what you want for Christmas. So maybe...if you come with us...then you can tell them what you want Santa to bring to you."

He declined. But it was quite thoughtful of her. The Shops at the Riverwoods does some neat stuff at Christmastime—they have Santa's village (with Santa visits) and carriage rides and pretty lights. It's fun. We'll go...sometime.

Anyway, today we set up the Christmas tree. Rachel and Grandma did most of it, I think.

The picture that wasn't

Grandma got the girls these cute ladybug outfits and I convinced them both to wear them today. Rachel didn't take any convincing. Miriam cried because her shirt "not look like a dress!" you know, because it's a shirt. She got over that though when I had her show off her outfit to a few people and they told her how cute she was. 

Having accomplished this goal of getting the girls in matching outfits, which is something I rarely can do—and I mean that in every sense of the word, as in having their outfits match each other or having their outfits match at all—I was next determined to take a picture of my girls together. That didn't happen.

They were off playing with some of the BYU students for most of the afternoon and I was more than happy to allow them to do so. Rachel came upstairs at one point and said, "Mom, the big kids [that's what she calls college kids] would like to know if they can watch a movie."

The football game was playing downstairs but the kids had been talking about watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving (which I didn't know existed until today, but it makes sense since there's A Charlie Brown Christmas and It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and I knew about those) because it's a tradition in some of their homes to watch it on Thanksgiving. Apparently it was on TV today.

I told Rachel that they could.

"Ummmm...can I...watch it...with them?" she asked.

"Sure," I told her.

Andrew went downstairs to help them set up the movie since it's a little complicated (at least I think so). 

"What movie do you guys want to watch?" he asked.

"Movie?" one asked. "We have to leave soon. I told my parents I'd Skype with them at six!"

Yeah. Rachel orchestrated that whole situation like a master manipulator. Well played, Rachel. Well played.

Thanksgiving dinner

We had Thanksgiving dinner with Andrew's parents, some kids from their BYU ward, my parents, and Uncle Patrick. Rachel got shipped off to my parents house, where she spent the late morning and early afternoon waiting for dinner while the rest of us worked on the meal. Miriam and I took naps, though mine was much shorter than Miriam's. Grandpa and Grandma set the table (with Oma's "everyday" china) while we were sleeping and Miriam was very excited to see it when she woke up—her spot was set with a glass plate and a glass cup! 

She was a little nervous about falling into the fireplace but managed to get through dinner just fine.

LOL

Last night before we went to sleep I was telling Andrew about our—as in the girls' and my—day. I had walked Rachel to school in the morning and just as we got to the corner of our yard our next-door neighbour came outside with their new puppy, unleashed. This new puppy bounded over to us and started prancing around us in circles, silently begging us to play. Rachel flipped out and started screaming and trying to climb into my arms. I picked her up and tried to hush her while also trying to calm the puppy. It was not the most graceful moment in Rachel's short life.*

"It wasn't even as if the puppy was barking or doing anything threatening. His tongue was just lolling out of his mouth and..."

"What?" Andrew asked.

"What?" I asked back.

"What was that last part you said?"

"His tongue was lolling out of his mouth."

"Lolling?" Andrew repeated with his eyebrows raised in incredulity.

"Yes. It was lolling."

"Like that's even a word," he said.

"It is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes. It. Is."

"What does it mean then?" Andrew asked.

"Like, hanging out. His tongue was lolling—hanging out—of his mouth."

"Prove it."

"Excuse me?"

"Look it up and show me."

I grabbed his iPod and did a voice search: "Define: lolling."

Andrew doesn't have Siri but he wishes that he does; instead he has a Google voice search app. Unfortunately my voice is so high pitched that computers don't pick it up well—phone messages that are cued to start playing when the person on the receiving end says hello do not start playing when I say hello until I lower my voice. I have been told by more than one elderly person to lower my voice—pitch-wise not volume-wise—so that their hearing aids will stop buzzing. And when I use voice search it rarely, if ever, understands anything I say.

"Define: wallowing," Google tried.

"See?" said Andrew. "It didn't even recognize the word."

"It didn't even recognize my voice," I said, pulling up the keyboard and typing in the word.

Much to his surprise, lolling popped up on the screen.

"There!" I said triumphantly. "Loll: to hang loosely. Also, to act or move in a lazy way."

"Okay, in my defense," he began, "I thought you were using LOL as a verb and I couldn't really see how a dog's tongue could LOL. I mean, I suppose a dog could LOL but can a tongue really LOL?"

I suppose it's true that the correct present tense of LOL would be lolling. Perhaps one day that definition will make it into the dictionary but for now its integrity as a word is still being debated. I don't think I've ever used the LOL sense of the word in my life until right about now...

We lolled about this while lolling in bed until tears ran down our cheeks.

*To be fair to Rachel, I completely understand where she's coming from. Even though the dog wasn't threatening in any way, shape, or form, it was still a dog. Thus, it was threatening. She's got a genuine dog phobia—something I also suffer from (but less so now that I'm an adult and can distinguish between harmless puppies and rabid wolves). It doesn't matter if the dog is fenced or leashed or smaller than a rat...it's a threat. And once that fight or flight response kicks in there is little you can do to control it when you're four years old. I am still learning to control my fears so the fact that she can't doesn't bother me at all. In fact, it's kind of funny when she freaks out and climbs me like a tree because I totally remember doing that to my own mom when I was her age.