Being Thorough

One of the things I have noticed about the boys on our journey to discover the ins-and-outs of ADHD is that they are, at times, completely absent-minded. It is a function of the disorder, I know -- they don't call it Attention Deficit for nothing -- and I expect a little mind-wandering during lessons, but sometimes I am amazed at the utter shutdown of the brain. Sometimes it can be funny (Um, Sean, are you going to go out without pants?) and other times it can be frustrating, especially when they forget very simple things like the piano bag full of their music when we're out the door to piano. Yes, they have clothes on (whew) and yes, they went to the bathroom (good), but they also took time to get a book for the car or their DS, which has NOTHING to do with where they are going or what activity they are about to undertake. When you remind them about it, they say in a rather surprised voice, "Oh yeah. Okay. Sorry." They truly do not mean to be forgetful; they just seem to always have their minds elsewhere and not on the tasks at hand.

This absent-mindedness or sometimes complete lack of vision about their life and activities worries me. Yes, I realize they are only nine, but some kids just seem to have a sense of time and space and a more complete understanding of elapsed time and what needs to be done and how much time that will take. My boys exist very much in the present, working from a schedule that involves maybe an hour ahead, maybe two. This is so ironic considering they both love schedules and do very well when they know what lies ahead. So I guess my worry exists in the form of "Will they ever get it?" or do I need to have Grant start digging the basement now?

Rather than wring my hands and moan, I decided to employ a new tactic. I call it Being Thorough. I was inspired by reading a devotional by Pastor Swindoll, the former pastor of EV Free Church in Fullerton which was my home church until age 24. This is a great man who is very wise, and he discussed the idea of being thorough in every aspect of your life. He was meaning this for adults, but he also brought it down to the day to day things in our lives, saying, "Wouldn't it be nice to completely finish a project? Put away the tools you used? Wipe down your workspace and then throw away the trash?" I'm paraphrasing the great man here, but his point is that often we get almost done with something and then stop. Don't dry the last three dishes, don't clear the table all the way, don't cover the barbecue, don't put the gardening tools back in the cupboard. The main project is done and done well, but something interrupts us -- something greater in our minds and we let the last few steps of a project lapse. When we do this, there are consequences -- rust, decay, dirt -- physical reminders that we left something undone.

I was struck by this lesson and not just how it could apply to the boys. I was struck by how often I am the guilty one, not completing a task I have set for myself, and I'm not just talking about my not writing blog posts (whimper) and not writing my great American novel (hanging my head in sorrow). I'm talking about the general chores and tasks I've set for myself. I need to be better at the follow-through, to be more thorough in all that I do. Otherwise, there will be physical reminders -- a dirty house, a legacy of unfinished projects and "almosts," not to mention replacing things that have become dirty or damaged because I just didn't take one more minute to be thorough. Being thorough applies to all stages of the process, from the planning to the follow through, and it needs to be a way of life, a way of thinking that becomes reflexive.

So I decided to employ a new phrase for the family and am thinking of having it painted on the back of the door leading to the garage. I want it to say, "Be Thorough" and be a visual reminder to think deeply about all we do. I have started asking the boys, "Have you been thorough?" or working with them and saying, "Okay, let's be thorough in our planning" whenever we are going to go somewhere or whenever they are in the middle of a project. I want to get them thinking about the steps it takes to get something done. When we went to both Disneyland and Legoland recently (totally awesome), we spent 10 minutes each of those mornings going over what we needed to bring to each place. The boys were very good about listing what they thought was important: sunscreen, jacket, close-toed shoes, kleenex, snacks, entertainment for the car ride. They then ran around getting their items and packing them. Then we went over the schedule before leaving -- use the restroom, make sure you've packed all your stuff, turn off lights, etc. Next in the process is teaching them what to do at the end -- dumping the dirty clothes in the proper place, unpacking their backpacks or goodie bags, cleaning out the car and the like. Most of the time they are too exhausted at the end of an event, and that's okay. Learning to be thorough is going to be a life-long process.

I am hoping that this ritual will lead them to think more thoroughly about what's necessary and required before undertaking a project or before taking a trip, starting a new class, etc. I'm hoping to get them planning for things and realizing that while starting something is great, thoroughly finishing it is even greater.

The Spanish Armada, The Globe and Elephants, oh my!

Creating the Battle with the Spanish Armada off the English Coast

Making sure the English ships are in proper order

Gavin drawing an elephant in the style of Indian Miniature Painting

Paper models of Shakespeare's Globe Theater, with the Bard himself looking on

I have said before just how much I love CAVA’s curriculum. Well, I will say it again, and probably again, for anyone who hasn’t heard it and just because I am so glad that there is a group in education that decided learning could be fun. My delight in CAVA's curriculum is all encompassing, but my fevered enthusiasm usually lands squarely on the history lessons. CAVA's lessons are so well crafted, telling the historical events in narrative form, with great visuals and authentic photos or artworks when possible, and including all the exciting characters, important dates and events.

I was thrilled last year when the boys and I went through the medieval period, studying ancient Rome and the Vikings and feudal Japan. We learned about the Visigoths and the Shoguns and got a real sense of where Europe came from. We learned that 476 was the year that Rome fell and nothing would be the same again. We learned that 1215 was the signing of the Magna Carta, where the king’s power was limited and that people demanded rights and liberties. This background last year set the stage for this year’s history lessons.

Yep, we moved into the Renaissance. So this year – happy sigh – we spent most of our time learning about Renaissance Italy, where it all began, and the fabulous art and artists who occupied that time period. We then moved on to Renaissance Europe and Asia, including a nice section on the Reformation of the church, complete with Martin Luther and the 95 Theses (who knew that 3rd graders would EAT THAT UP?). Then, of course, we spent time in England, with the Golden Era, or the Elizabethan Period, learning about Elizabeth I and the amazing empire she created and maintained. There was a lesson on Shakespeare and an art project involving recreating the Globe Theater in paper. Just fabulous.

How I love this school's willingness to extend history to youngsters, knowing that they will hang on every word, appreciate what has come before and be able to make connections between the past and the present. There are drawbacks to my boys being in this school, yes -- the isolation, technical glitches, waiting for your teacher to get back to you instead of having her "in the classroom," no school functions per se, and never getting a "sick" day because well, you're at home.

But when I scroll down to the next history lesson, I smile and think, "Okay, now is for learning and for engaging. Hopefully soon the other things will fall into place."

Pi Day 2011

Sean and Gavin made signs to celebrate Pi Day. Here is Sean ready to devour our pizza that we got for lunch. You know, pizza pie?

Here is Gavin's sign for Pi Day. It's hard to read but it says, "Sine cosine cosine sine.

3.14159. Yay, Pi!"

After dinner, the family went to Marie Callendar's to get some actual pie. The boys were thrilled that they each got to order a piece ("Chocolate Satin" for both, which was pronounced Satan for a good portion of the time.)

Grace was happy to celebrate Pi Day as well. Pie and ice cream is a pretty decent way to top off a meal.

Gavin could not wait for his goodies. Our event was so fun, but the bill was astounding. $35 for pie for five people, only one of which was a la mode and one cup of tea. The rest drank waters. Oh well, it was a wonderful family experience and we're glad we did it. We just need to save up for next year's Pi Day Extravaganza!

The Naked Truth about Nudity

There has been much talk recently at our house about nudity. You'd think, as a general rule, this topic wouldn't get much play, but there has been some discussion. Inasmuch as the incidents involving nudity were comical enough to write about, the whole topic got me pondering the idea of nudity, and I think there are some nuggets of truth (thank you!) that can be gleaned from a study of nakedness.

1. The younger you are, the more comfortable you are with nudity.

Gavin and Sean have no problems with personal nudity. They would be naked all the time if they could (Gavin more than Sean), and for the most part they are equal opportunity nudists. They will walk around naked both before and after a bath to ask questions, get a drink, whatever, not realizing that others -- namely their sister -- would prefer they not. Their utter lack of concern about loin girding prompted the funny Facebook entry a while back where Grace commented that "naked people should not skip." She's right, but they don't seem fazed by all the hubbub. Gavin even intimated that at some point he would love to live where everyone was naked all the time. When Grace said there was no way she would ever visit him then, he seemed genuinely crushed.

I cannot tell you how many times I've wondered where one of the boys is after his bath and have found him reading a book on his bedroom floor, completely nude. "Why aren't you dressed for bed, honey?" I ask. "Oh, I forgot." Really? Forgot to put clothes on? Again, for them, there is something delightful and completely natural about being naked. There is no stigma, no self-consciousness, no desire to show off, perform or freak anyone out. The fact that Grace does get freaked out is strange to them (and is for the most part hilarious to us).

2. Tweenagers cannot abide nudity.

Grace is at that tender age where she is transitioning to the realm of adulthood. For her, any amount of nudity is enough to clear her out of a room. She also cannot abide embarrassing situations within a movie's storyline or deeply romantic scenes. These scenes just serve to embarrass her and remind her that she will soon be experiencing emotions on a different level and that things that used to be harmless between friends (talking with boys, physical contact -- hugs, thwacks on the arm, etc.) are now going to be fraught with meaning. Nudity has significance, and she is beginning to see that. So she spends time hiding herself (both literally and figuratively) by her clothing choices and screeching, "Please knock!" when the boys try to get into the bathroom to wash their hands while she's in there when just a year ago she didn't care. All of these feelings of hers are perfectly normal; they are part of the steps we go through to adjust to adulthood and how we grow in our understanding of how the world works. It also reminds us of our fallen state and how nudity for adults does mean something different than it does for kids.

3. Adults usually can put nudity in context, but sometimes nudity can still surprise them.

I had the funniest experience at the Theater during a performance of the musical Hair! I had no clue ahead of time that there would be actual nudity within the performance. The ticket said "Mature Content," but I took this to mean that the performers would swear a lot or there would be some bawdy comedy. I was prepared for either of those situations. I was not prepared for all the performers to be naked on the stage at the same time.

My initial reaction to the actors' nudity was shock and then embarrassment -- not for them, but for me, potentially, because this was an audience-participation show and we were in the front row (not kidding). I was suddenly petrified that I would have to deal with nudity square in the face (again, not kidding) and my insecurities about the subject would surface. When it was safe again, I began to marvel at the actors' willingness to brave it all, as it were, for this production. What must go through their heads each time they strip down? Can they be in character so deeply that this action is simply a reaction and doesn't require deep soul-searching or preparation? I tried to be cool during their scene, but I'll admit I was squirming in my seat. Is my own embarrassment about nudity and self-consciousness to blame? Perhaps.

Grant had a great time during the performance and seemed perfectly fine and not uncomfortable in the least. Of course, he knew ahead of time that there would be nudity -- "How could you not know?" he chided. "This show caused a huge scandal on Broadway when it debuted for exactly this reason." I admit I am a bit behind in my musical theater, and I am glad that I got to see this show. But I thought about his reaction against my own. My husband isn't bothered by nudity at all. Ever. It's something he doesn't peg with shame or embarrassment, so he doesn't get flustered or attach hidden meanings to it. People can simply be naked.

For me, the nudity made me think. It was not in the production for mere shock value as so many nude scenes are in movies and on television. For days afterwards, I thought about the show and its use of the human form. I was affected by the nudity -- not in the "Oh Lawdy, cover my eyes" sense but how the actors used it to convey what the show was really about: vulnerability. It got me thinking about what being naked can mean for an adult. The human who bares it all really is stripping away all pretenses and defenses for another person and is showing the essence of the person he or she is inside. Grace is beginning to see that vulnerability in nudity so she hides herself. She knows that nudity can be compromising. She sees that part of the self is exposed when our skin is exposed, and this is a valuable lesson. I think the actors on the stage wanted to showcase that -- exploit it even --as their characters were being exploited and used for a war they did not believe in. Their nudity was symbolic -- they wanted everyone to "see" them and realize that they were just people first, in the very purest sense of the word.

So, these are the thoughts that naked people bring to the mind in the Mosher home: deep thoughts, philosophical thoughts, emotional thoughts and then the boys and their love of being naked. The boys' quest for nudity does not involve compromise or vulnerability or a loss of identity. It is merely them, only naked-er. For now they are happy and innocent and content to spend their time after the bath reading, playing and, alas, skipping.

A Life of Precision

As we age, we come to understand certain truths: "I'll be done in a minute" means that you have about a five to ten-minute window; "I've got to get a few things from the store" means that you will be in there for at least a half an hour; When someone asks for the time, you don't say, "It's 1:27"; you say, "It's almost 1:30." Most people who ask for the time understand that you are rounding up because it's easier. They are not looking for the exact time down to the second; they want to know if it's in the middle of the hour or towards the end of the hour so they can make plans or adhere to them. As adults, we understand. It makes sense for our adult brains to allow this leeway. In fact, we encourage it. We roll with it.

My boys do not roll with imprecision. Call it part of their quirkiness, an aspect of their ADHD, whatever -- but they have never been okay with calling a spade a shovel. My boys lead a life where everything has a proper name and a proper time, amount of money, description, you name it. It's a bit irritating sometimes when adult understanding and child understanding meet head on, but I've been trying to get a handle on why being precise is so critical to both boys and what I can do to ease them into the imprecise world of adulthood. Here are my findings:

1. Children are always corrected. My mother-in-law pointed this out to me, and I was so glad she did. All their lives, the boys have heard themselves corrected by adults. They have had their grammar checked ("I caught the ball" not "I catched the ball."), their explanations reviewed (No, rain is not God crying; it's actually the water cycle -- here, let me explain . . . ), their questions answered even if they weren't asked (Did you know . . . ), and so forth. Not a day goes by that some adult is not imparting knowledge to these children. That is not a bad thing. What it means, though, is that the boys (and all children for that matter) are exposed to this type of learning/teaching style -- the lecture -- an awful lot. In their minds, when you know something, you share it for the benefit of the other party. It's the "learning is communal" way of life.

So why do they get reprimanded when they point out when an adult has made a mistake? They are simply extending the same courtesy given to them 200 times a day. My boys haven't clued in that no matter how wrong an adult is, it's usually not a good idea to correct his or her mistake. Don't tell an adult that it really is 1:27 when she has said it's 1:30. She knows the time but has rounded up for convenience sake. When the adult uses grammar that is incorrect, it's best to ignore it (although it is so, so hard to do so -- I'm with you, boys, on that one) and hope he or she figures it out later. Sometimes you have to infer what the adult is saying, as in: "Put that on the table," but she's pointing at the counter. Do you: a) put the item on the table in the other room or b) put the item on the counter that she's pointing to? This is a difficult choice for my boys who would rather believe the words than the body language or tone.

2. They are highly verbal. Both boys have high verbal IQs. They comprehend the world through the use of words, so for them, a gesture does not carry as much meaning as the word behind it. Sentiment is good, but words are better. So if the words are imprecise, they get confused. They put tremendous value on words, so these guys are going to be heartbroken when promises aren't kept or lies are told (I dread the dating years, middle school -- you get the idea). To them, words are like currency, the way in which they understand and navigate the world. So if something is off, they feel the need to address it.

3. My boys want to do it right, always. Part of the anxiety component of their ADHD stems from their wanting to be correct all the time. It's the perfectionist quality of their personalities that they inherited (so sorry) and that leads to insecurity. They want to be right in order to feel good about themselves, yet here is an authority figure who is telling them something different than what they know. Aaahhh! What to do? Does this mean that their understanding of that part of their world is off? This imprecision leads to confusion and anxiety on their part even if we're only talking about rounding up time or money or exaggerating something to make a point. To make sure they have it "right," they will question that point.

Bottom line is that I AGAIN need to find a source of patience for when these moments come up. Instead of getting irritated at their not understanding and attempting to correct my imprecision, I need to either explain the vagaries of the adult mind -- yes, we round up, we guesstimate how long it will actually take in the store, no I misspoke when I said "elevator" instead of "escalator," etc. -- or adhere to more precision in my own life. Precision isn't bad; it just takes more thought. It takes more time, which is what we adults don't have, which leads us to be imprecise in the first place. Ugh. What a never-ending cycle of woe.

My goal as always is to steer these boys into a deeper understanding of themselves and the world around them without sacrificing all that makes them who they are. So what to do with precision? Do I try and loosen them up or be more precise in my words? Maybe the answer lies somewhere in the middle -- or is that too vague?

Gavin Said What?

The past few weeks were a bounty for Gavin-isms. He was in top form, both in his ability to crack us up and for the amazing things he does.

1. Armpit farts -- this may not qualify as amazing, per se, but the boy is pretty darn good at it. He even gave the family a tutorial one evening: "Step One -- Cup your hand like this. Step Two -- Place your cupped hand over your armpit. Step Three -- Fart." It was fairly straightforward, but I liked that there was an actual system.

Gavin has gotten so prolific at this talent that he can adjust the tenor and volume and tonality. It's really impressive. I've asked him to not do this in public or at the dinner table while we are eating -- we must have some standards, you know -- and he generally complies. He will now armpit fart absentmindedly as if he's biting a nail or cracking his knuckles. He can multitask while armpit farting also, which is pretty clever when you're taking out the trash or playing piano.

Speaking of piano, the other night we are sitting around the dining table playing a rousing game of Boggle. Gavin starts in on his armpit fart routine -- short, short, long, short, short -- and then he stops and tells us, "Hey, when I armpit fart, all the farts are in E flat." I started laughing. This was good stuff, except that Grace goes over to the piano and hits the note. Well, I'll be darned if he wasn't right. Most of the time his armpit farts hit an E flat. So, what do we do? Well of course we spend a good few minutes seeing if he can a) change the notes of his armpit farts and b) more importantly, if he could identify the other notes. He didn't get them all, but he did get some, which impressed me to no end. Can we take this kid on the road? I can see a future with the carnies, for sure.

2. What does my name mean? I think every kid wants to know why he or she was given his or her particular name. It is natural, after all, to want to know your story, to wonder why in the vast dictionary of baby names one particular name stood out to your parents and why they thought it would be perfect for you. Sometimes your name belonged to a family member, and you would like to know why that family member (and his or her name) was important.

We have this name discussion often with our children because they love to hear the stories of their names. Gavin was named for Sir Gawain in the legends of King Arthur who was afraid in the beginning of his tale but who did the right thing in the end. Grant and I have always liked this name, and if Grace had been a boy, she would have been named Gavin. Gavin means "white hawk," and we think the name fits this boy with his keen eye and fearless strategies for getting things done.

When we found out we were having twins, we had to find a name that would fit with Gavin. We tried many but ultimately settled on Sean, Irish for John. We kept with the Celtic/Gaelic tradition and sought the name because John was Jesus's companion and best friend. We liked the idea of the Lord's companion, someone He shared with and loved and trusted. We hoped that our twins would cultivate a relationship like that and that our gentle Sean would be a testament to the amazing and deep-thinking man who wrote so beautifully.

At the table again over the Christmas holiday, Gavin asked this time for the story of their names, and of course we obliged. We got to Grace Elizabeth's name and told them that Grace was named for the greatest woman monarch of all time (my own bias) and because her name means "a gift from God." Gavin interrupted at this point: "A gift from God?" and we answered, smiling beatifically at our daughter, "Absolutely. Grace means a gift from God that we don't deserve. An unmerited favor." We thought Gavin would be touched by this wonderful explanation and by our reasons for naming his sister. Instead, he wrinkled his brow in confusion and said, "If Grace is a gift from God, then why is she so annoying?"

Ah siblings. Gavin, you are awesome.

Digging Deeper Into the Burrow

It occurred to me lately after speaking with the hub and a very good friend that I have strayed away from the purpose of this blog. I started Tales from the Burrow with the idea that I would share all the craziness, the fun and the pressure or stress or complications that come from staying home and teaching your kids, especially when your kids are quirky and have ADHD. Instead of keeping to this agenda, though, I began to write about other stuff -- chronicling other happenings or riffing on random thoughts, which would have been okay if I had just done that once in a while. Instead, I began to get worried when I didn't have a new topic to discuss or funny thing to report. I lost my focus, and therefore my blog lost its focus. I know better! Know Your Audience! Write With Purpose! I could just kick myself.

So one of my New Year's Resolutions (in addition to exercise more, eat right, blah blah blah) is to recommit to my blog and write about what I wanted to in the beginning: the boys and the challenges and rewards of homeschooling. I know that I will occasionally detour and write about random things that happen and that's okay, but I will try and stay committed to my purpose (oh, and I have to write about the lovely and patient older daughter too. She's pretty nifty).

So, I'm hoping to set up some new categories for my postings to keep me focused, such as (names to be decided on later):

1. They Said . . . What?

2. Fun with ADHD

3. Cool Lessons and Those that Weren't

4. Today We Struck Up a Conversation With . . . .

5. The Pajama Game -- Which "Loungewear" Will I Be Wearing Today?

I hope you will come back and visit.

The world is full of boring people and sad stalkers

It occurred to me the other day as I logged out of Facebook that I am fairly disappointed in people's daily, secret lives. In fact, I've discovered that most people's daily secret lives are incredibly and mind-numbingly boring. Just so you know, this makes me feel loads better about my own life trapped at home in the burrow. Knowing that other people's lives are as mundane as mine takes a lot of pressure off of me. I don't have to work to be interesting or relevant. I can wear my sweats all day. In fact, I think I will do both and then tweet about it, and people will read it. Huzzah! Greatest American Novel? Forget it; I'm blogging about hygiene again with perhaps a little dose of what the dog ate.

I used to wonder wistfully what regular people did during the day. I vaguely remember what I used to do besides work -- it involved errands and planning ahead and lots of banking. Now I know what others do. I know everything they do. They go to the gym. They go for coffee. Or they shop. And then they tell me -- and the whole Facebook world -- about it. "Oh Hey," I read on a recent post, "Stacy just pulled in to Trader Joe's." or "Look, Grace's 1st grade teacher is having coffee at Starbucks." It got me thinking that while I am happy that I am as ordinary as the rest of them, I am also disappointed in the human race for not being more interesting. FYI: When you ask someone what's going on in their lives and they answer "nothing," you need to believe them. People, you need to liven things up!

Even celebrities' lives are boring because they tweet or post the same type of stuff. What happened to the secret lives of celebrities? Are celebrities really as dull as the rest of us? Do they just want us to think that they are? If so, why? If you are going to be a celebrity, then be a celebrity. Tell us that you got the last table at a fancy restaurant that I cannot afford to eat at. Tell us that a famous designer just dropped off a whole new wardrobe for you. These things don't happen to the rest of us, and we'd like some insight into why we feel the need to worship you from afar. If it's because you are shopping with your family or taking a coffee break, then I'm confused. I do those things, and no one has given me the cover of Vogue. I realize that you are gorgeous, but I have gorgeous friends and no one is after them.

Which leads me to another point: I am starting to feel bad for stalkers. You used to need real skill to stalk someone (and a good pair of infrared goggles, a trusty map and a notebook -- not that I know anything about it). Now all you need is your phone and a global network. Why? Because people keep telling us where they are. Even celebrities. I think this bothers me most of all. If you've just arrived at a certain store and you let us know, or you are a celebrity and you tweet that you just finished a great meal at The Ivy or whathaveyou, then your stalker has a pretty good idea as to your whereabouts. He or she doesn't even have to try. It kind of takes the fun out of it. And for all our talk about safety and taking precautions in this scary ol' world, what are you doing mapping out the route back to your house?

Thank goodness for Charlie Sheen and his never-ending parade of debauchery to keep us on the right track. Not only does he never quite know where he is (presumably so he can foil his stalkers), but he also lives the celebrity lifestyle that I'm waiting to hear about. Charlie and celebs like him do things I cannot or will not do. For example, I don't have the wherewithal or the desire to destroy a hotel room with a hooker. I do not have the power to request only green M&M's in my candy bowl. I cannot in good conscience smack things with my guitar or get thrown off a plane. Those are tweet-worthy items. They may not make me worship Charlie Sheen and others of his ilk, but I'm pretty sure I can be amazed for a few short minutes. Truth is stranger than fiction, and sometimes we all need a dose of strange.

It used to be that the joy of logging on to Facebook was to catch up with friends who I won't see anytime soon and to look at their pictures or to read funny stories about things going on halfway across the world. Facebook has been brilliant in this regard, bringing people closer and helping us forge and maintain friendships that would have taken years with any other medium. The downside, of course, is our subjective lens when it comes to what is interesting or newsworthy. There are clever posters; there are sentimental posters; there are political posters and game posters (more cows for my farm, please). Then there are the "super posters," whose very job, they believe, is to keep you up-to-date. They believe in quantity not quality . . . or relevance . . . or even good judgment. Discernment, mystery. These are words missing from the vocabularies of super posters.

So please, friends, update me when Dylan makes his first touchdown or you need support because your twins are down with the flu, and it just sucks. Tell me about your latest trip to Costa Rica or the fact that your cat had 17 kittens and you are going crazy. These are the moments I want to hear about because they aren't happening to me. What I'd rather not hear about is your shopping, anything involving you and your spouse, bathroom issues, or any of the totally boring and ordinary things that are happening in my life too. Be mysterious. Show discernment, and who knows? Maybe I'll take up stalking again.

Farewell . . . for Now

It started out as a normal farewell dinner, if indeed there is such a thing. Farewell dinners, by their very nature, are NOT normal. In fact, they signify, quite publicly, that things are not going to be "normal" ever again. The farewell dinner states for those in attendance that the status quo no longer applies. It helps prepare us to think differently. What will life be like now? How am I going to feel about my world tomorrow? The whole evening became quite poignant for me in that regard.

At this particular farewell dinner, I said good-bye to my wonderful friend Diane who is moving to Chicago. She is relocating for her job, and she will be leaving in a matter of days. I said good-bye eight years ago to our other college buddy and confidante, Rhonda, who relocated to Florida to be with her now-husband Oren. It was hard to see Rhonda go, and it is difficult to see Diane go as well. We have so many memories here -- memories of achievement, of struggle, of friendship, of love, of anxiety, of sorrow, of encouragement, of bonding. These girls were present at the birth of all my kids, threw me a fabulous Goddess shower, read Mists of Avalon with me and exulted in our feminine power, and shared a graduate program and masters' exam experience with me. Both these women have been fabulous role models and friends, and I miss just hanging out and discussing literature and life and wine and food and everything else that makes a life. Diane and I usually meet Rhonda for lunch at Zov's, our favorite restaurant, when she is in town. Now, I will try to arrange lunches with both of them when our schedules all coincide. I think we all know that those occasions will be few and far between. This is simply what life will be now.

In the midst of this reverie at dinner, I felt a pull in another direction: a sense of farewell to a former self. Marc, our dinner companion, friend, and colleague of Diane's, was amusing us with tales from the office. Then, Marc and Diane took turns amusing the table with tales of their many work adventures. As I laughed and listened, it struck me that I had little to contribute. This had been my world for many years when I was working as an editor and then when I was heading up the non-profit. I knew some of the players in their escapades, but my association with them was long ago. My stories aren't current. Staying at home and educating my children is my new job, and most people aren't interested in the vagaries of this highly unglamorous (and grossly underpaid, I might add) lifestyle. My value is now lodged elsewhere, and it's impossible to wow a table with stories of ADHD medicine decisions, how Sean loves wearing his Mario Halloween costume hat everywhere, how Gavin won our first Bookopoly round the other night or how Grace is really bummed that Teen Titans has gone off the air.

Even as I write out these frustrations, I am keenly aware and know for sure that staying home with the boys is the best decision I could have made. I know that everything I'm doing now is of critical importance to the boys' growing selves, to their self-esteem and identities. I just want to scream from the rooftops sometimes that my life is more than the minutiae of our day-to-day lives. I don't want to be ungrateful; I know it sounds petty to complain about staying home when there are so many women for whom this is not an option. But I cannot make a living doing what I'm doing. We are struggling financially, and I am capable of so many things. I guess I'm just hoping that others will notice. I am a force to be reckoned with. I have skills!

These insecurities and neuroses lie deep within me or bubble to the surface depending on the day. Feeling a bit overwhelmed (and overweight I might add) that night, I fought with my feelings of inadequacy a lot, understanding that I am going through a season of my life, that Diane's life is not one that I could do well, that my life has value even if there is no paycheck, and so forth. I will have power one day, just not now. And just to underscore that idea, the waiter who had been very fun and attentive all night dropped off the bill and his business card, hoping to entice the table back for another visit. The only problem is that he gave his card to Diane and to Marc only. He did not offer me one, nor did he offer one to Jacquie, Diane's mother.

I'm not sure what his message was in excluding both Jacquie and me. Did he not think we would come back on our own? Did he think that we were not decision-makers? This slight bit of business, this unexpected oversight was hurtful in ways that Craig the Waiter could not have imagined. It shocked me. I felt ashamed. I felt angry. Could he not see that I was a person of value? Who was he to judge?

I went home that night defeated and just sad. Part of the sorrow is that my friend is leaving. Part of my sorrow is that part of me is already gone. I have to say farewell to who I was before staying home with the boys. I need to mourn that identity and take advantage of the lessons I am learning now so that the new me can flourish when I am given or I take the chance.

And Another Thing . . .

Hi there Target,

I am so glad that you now carry more grocery items. Imagine my surprise when I found Honeycrisp apples and Greek yogurt the first time I looked around. Awesome. You are my favorite store, hands down.

However, you need to hire people who know how to bag groceries. It was a bit disconcerting to find my apples in the same bag as the new hand soaps I bought. Even more disturbing was to find my new yogurt in the same bag as two heavy cans of soup. That my yogurt did not burst open on the way home after being jostled against the Progressos had to be an act of the gods.

Just a helpful hint. Thanks!

Halloween 2010

Sean and Gavin as Mario and Luigi, respectively.

Grace as a female Robin Hood.

Halloween was great fun this year. It was mellow and relaxing, unlike other years where there were costume parades and class parties, which, although lots of fun, brought lots of stress and planning and running around.

The boys chose Mario and Luigi costumes after the video game characters. Sean really wanted to be Yoshi, but there were no costumes to be found (except expensive ones online). It took a lot of coaxing to get him to decide on Mario, but he did it. Gavin was a great sport and said he would be Luigi if Sean wanted to be Mario. This concession did the trick, really, and it was pretty hilarious watching the boys put on their costumes and then speak with Italian accents for several days. Gavin even said "Grazie" to each person who gave him candy, and Sean decided to wear his Mario hat everywhere regardless of the weather or his outfit.

Grace had wanted to be a box for Halloween until we told her that she probably wouldn't fit in anyone's car if she constructed too large of one. She acquiesced only after she figured she could be Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games. There were no Katniss costumes, per se, so she settled on Robin Hood, and she looked darling.

Fulton had a costume day, and Grace went as her Robin-Hood self, but she had to dress out for PE which kind of sucked, and others in her class were not happy about having to remove their costumes and run laps. As she remarked, "You know, we'd have a lot more school spirit and a lot more participation in these dress-up days if we didn't have PE." I totally get ya, my girl.

The boys didn't dress up until Trunk or Treat at the Peterson's Church on Saturday night. We arrived a bit late, but no biggie -- the kids got candy, played games and danced a bit. Then we went back to the Peterson house for some serious candy swapping and dessert. It was great fun and a very memorable night. The boys remarked that it was one of their best days ever.

Halloween night was fun too. Kirk, Alexis and Raelee came over, along with Grandpa Charlie, and we had a great dinner and then set out around the neighborhood. After the smaller kids pooped out, Grace and Mom went with Aunt Laurie and Maddie to another tract and did some more trick-or-treating.

So much fun. So much candy. Way too many Italian accents.

Targeted Behavior

I love Target. Target is one of those places we visit frequently and where I could drop $500 a month easily. I don’t, but I could. I’m just saying. I love that I can find Halloween costumes, a bicycle pump, moisturizer, scotch tape and Ho-Hos all in the same place. While we were tooling around the new grocery section on a recent pilgrimage, a mom with two small children called out to Grant to ask if he could help her reach some wine bottles on an upper shelf. My husband being the affable guy he is said sure and got them down for her.

Now, Grant is happy to help others, and someone asking for his help isn’t the most blog-worthy thing in the world, so you might be wondering why I am commenting on this. Well, the reason the woman chose Grant to help her is the reason for this post. The woman said she felt comfortable asking Grant for help because she had heard him yelling at our kids and she totally understood. Apparently, after overhearing Grant talking to the kids (she said yelling), she felt a particular kinship with Grant and felt confident asking him for help. Weird! We decided that the request, couched in her terms, was indeed strange, for many reasons including the following:

#1. Grant wasn’t yelling at the kids. I have heard my husband yell, and believe me, it is not a subtle thing. You will know when he is. Instead, he was telling them in a rather stern voice that he was tired of their not listening and following directions and would they please follow the cart so as not to get lost and so that he could tell them where we were going next. Taking twins with ADHD (one who cannot stop talking and the other who could get lost in a closet) out anywhere is a challenge, and I’m the first to admit, it’s easy to lose patience with them, but Grant’s voice was nowhere near a code red.

This woman could have referred to his “reprimanding” or could have said, “I overheard you talking to your kids, and I totally sympathize,” or she could have NOT SAID ANYTHING AT ALL and given him a knowing smile or a nod of understanding. However, even those options seem weird. Why not just ask Grant for help with no commentary? Most people ask for a simple favor without needing to invoke the “it’s okay if you lost patience with your kids” club membership. Perhaps she thought Grant would be embarrassed that someone overheard him, so she was trying to say that it was okay. Maybe she had just laid into her kids and she wanted to feel better herself. Not sure. But it seems that using eavesdropping as a basis for a request conveys the idea that Grant will be obliged to help her out of guilt at his “lapse” and that to refuse her really means he’s guilty.

#2. She commented on our parenting skills, even if it was to show solidarity. I’ll admit that I assume – incorrectly, of course – that all of my parenting moments take place in a vacuum. I know this is not true, but I’ve really never had anyone comment or applaud after I do or say something. Most just go on their merry way, judging silently, (which is what I do). I’ve overheard other parents in a store doing something that I wouldn’t do, but I keep these comments to myself. I think, “Wow. She’s stressed. Been there,” or occasionally: “Wow. I’m so glad I’m not her kid;” or “Wow. That was a great way to handle that question. Gotta remember that.” I think it is part of human nature to assess others’ parenting styles and solutions because we are searching for ways to validate ours. However, we don’t normally comment out loud to the other parent or rate them or say, “Because of what you did, you are now beholden to me for a brief amount of time.”

#3. The woman really wanted her wine. I feel her pain. I really do. She had two little ones in her cart and she couldn’t reach the top shelf. Dammit! So, rather than going on a search for the closest Target employee, she found the closest human who could actually reach the stuff. She wanted/needed those particular bottles, and Grant was the key to her getting her booze. Okay, perhaps I’m overdoing it, but it does seem as if she pulled out all the stops to just get this one thing done. I do know how she feels. When you are running errands by yourself with lots of kids hanging in and out of your cart, sometimes you just have to say, “I’m overwhelmed; please help me” so that you can get your errand done and go home. Maybe she was at that point. I’m just not sure why she didn’t just politely ask for a hand and then say thank you and move on. Wine causes people to do crazy things, but that’s usually after you drink it.

This poor woman. She’s in my blog now and all she wanted was a little help. I don’t think she planned on being judged, nor do I think she really meant any harm by what she said. It’s just another instance where human beings try to connect on some level but miss. We have all said things in a way that was misconstrued by the person on the other end. Sometimes the baggage we bring to an encounter keeps us from understanding someone’s true motivations or message. Ah well. Just another day at Target. Next time we’ll stay out of the wine aisle and keep our voices down.

Happy Birthday, Melissa!

In this happy picture, I am posing with one of my best friends in the whole wide world. Melissa is so fantastic and has become like a sister to me. She makes me smile and laugh, and we have great adventures together, including hunting down our favorite authors all over the Southland! She loves books as much as I do, and she is the one who introduced me to the Twilight series waaaayyy back when the books were new and Stephenie was a regular visitor to twilightmoms.com. Melissa was one of the original Twilight Moms and got to visit more than one movie set and meet Robert Pattinson and the other stars. She has been on TV in various capacities, sings at Segerstrom Hall on a regular basis, and is the queen of all that must be organized. I love her sense of humor, her capacity for understanding, and the value she puts on friendship. She is very creative -- coming up with awesome ideas for her girls, whether it's for their scrapbooks, for their parties or to reinforce a spiritual lesson. She is passionate about education and I know that she will change the world for the better. God has given her so many talents and gifts, and I am very happy that she shares those with me. Happy birthday!

Letting Her Fly

Fulton Middle School had its Back to School night last night, and for the first time, I really got to see what my daughter will be doing this year. She has been in school for four weeks, and she's doing great, but I really had no idea what challenges she was facing each and every day. I came home in awe of my 11-year-old and what she has done in this first month at a new school and with more challenging curriculum.

1. She has figured out how to use her locker.

2. She has devised a system for keeping her classes and schedule straight so she knows what books and folders are needed and when throughout the day.

3. She has navigated the PE scene, where she can dress out for PE and then back to her regular clothes with relative ease and virtually no embarrassment.

4. She has charted a course so that she can make it from the front of the school where her English and Social Studies classes are to the portables in the way back of the school for math without being late.

5. She has found ways to have fun and laugh despite having to carry the heaviest backpack in the world.

6. She has bounced back from an incident in science where she forgot her assignment and received a zero.

7. She has made some new acquaintances and has enjoyed getting to know familiar faces better.

8. She has learned to check the school email system every night so that she can double-check what assignments are due and compare that information to what she wrote in her notebook.

9. She has chosen a wardrobe and hairstyle that reflect her personal style and make her feel good about herself.

10. She has been patient with me as I flit around her not knowing how to help and wanting to make her transition to this new school easy and painless.

After hearing what her teachers have in store for her this year, I am thrilled for my daughter. For the first time ever, she is being asked to use the brain God gave her and is being taught amazing things. She will not have an easy time, but I was impressed with what the teachers want these kids to learn and the creative and innovative projects that await them. My only concern is what do I do now? How does my parenting style that involves so much protecting and shielding line up with my daughter's newfound joy and confidence?

All I can do is open my palms so that the little butterfly can see the open sky and watch in awe as the butterfly dances upon them before taking off. She stamps her tiny feet on my palms so that some of the dust from her wings shakes off and lands there. She'll know the spot to come back to. She'll recognize it. All I can do is send her soaring and watch how she uses the currents to fly higher or dodge danger. All I can do is hold my breath as the sun threatens to scorch her wings or the rain threatens to drive her down. All I can hope is that she'll alight safely in my palms again although I know that she'll never tolerate my palms closing over her. She's seen the sky; she knows how to fly now. I will have to find new ways to protect her that don't diminish her need or desire for the wind.

Grace: rabble rouser and funniest person ever

Gavin and Sean decided long ago how they felt about their sister. As soon as their consciousness evolved and they realized who she was, they both crowned her "funniest and bestest person alive." Grace has always been a great sister to them. She's made them laugh and created wonderful games and shared her books. Now she makes for great entertainment because they know they can annoy her. She is and always has been the life of their party.

Grace, for her part, has enjoyed their attention, has created fun games for them, and has tried her best to teach them valuable life lessons (Gavin, catch the ball like this. Sean, you are not playing fair.). In the past couple of years, however, she has become even more important to them as they have decided that her jokes and funny sayings are the world's most creative. She can rile these two up just by walking in a room. If I am still teaching lessons when she breezes in from school, I need at least 30 minutes to get the boys back in focus. One line from her can leave them breathless on the floor from laughing. (Africa is a lima bean!) The worst thing is that they repeat EVERYTHING she says whether they understand the context or not. A line from Grace is pure gold -- comedic genius that must be repeated as often as possible.

One of the latest gifts from Grace is the fart/burp game. Using every ounce of tweenage creativity, Grace and her pals devised a game where when you burp, you stick your pinky finger on your forehead and say a color: "blue," "green," etc. When you pass gas, you stick your thumb on your forehead and say a shape: "square," "circle," and the like. Now the boys took to this game like pigs to mud, and, of course, normal colors and shapes do not apply in this game. So now EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY, I am faced with unusual colors and made-up shapes being shouted from every corner of the house because even if you do not do the burping, you still get to comment.

buuurrrrppp: "Cerulean!" "Mahogany!" "Ding!" (more on ding in a second)

fffaaarrrttt: "Rhombus!" "Hexagonal prism!" "Trectangle!" (more on that in a second)

Having children who a) like to one-up the other and b) are never happy with traditional choices means that I get to hear really bizarre things every day. For instance, Grace and her friends have voted and "ding" is now officially a color and Trectangle is a new shape -- I haven't asked for a drawing yet, but I do plan on it. I had to laugh this morning as Grace and two of her friends sat around the breakfast table, burping and dinging all morning long, with an occasional pause for a rhombus or two.

Grace, I thank you for your off-beat and strange humor. It makes our house loud and fun, and it makes your brothers love you to bursting.

Photography

Grace is taking a photography class at Fulton. These were a few of the shots she got while on a "nature walk" on campus. So cool!

International Talk Like a Pirate Day

September 19 is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. How do I know this? I'm not really sure why I have remembered the date, but Kevin and Bean from KROQ talked about it years ago, and since then, every September 19 has found me dusting off the pirate lingo and spending the day accosting folks with "ARGH!" or "Ahoy Matey," which as you know is the standard pirate greeting.

If you choose to participate tomorrow (and you should), you can also pepper your conversation with the following:

Avast me hearties!

booty (one should always use this word, even if it's not talk like a pirate day)

shiver me timbers

Davy Jones's locker

land lubber

There are many more examples on the Talk Like a Pirate Day website. You can also find out your pirate name, which can be helpful when you find yourself in a situation where you have to identify yourself to a group of pirates. Saying your name is Sheryl Mosher isn't as impressive as saying your name is Captain Ethel Kidd.

Have fun tomorrow. Try talking like a pirate in church. I know I'm going to. It might bring a whole new and deeper understanding to the message. Or it just might bring about "Arrrrrmageddon."

If you've got a problem . . .

Yo, he'll solve it. Check out his moves while the

DJ revolves it . . .

Word to your mother.

Love Letter to Sean

On one of the last days of school for the boys, Sean was working steadily on a project at the kitchen counter. He was hunched over, busily working, and then asked out of the blue about military school. My boys often ask things out of the blue, as this is their nature, so I wasn't totally surprised. But I was curious about the subject matter this time. He turned around and said in a very concerned voice, "Mom, do kids at military school ever get to come home?" When I told him that they do get to come home on holidays, his eyes welled up, "You mean, they don't get to come home on their birthday?" When I told him that no, most would not be home on their birthdays, he just started sobbing. I told him to climb in my lap and hug me, and I promised him that I would never send him or his brother or his sister to military school because, after all, you have to spend your birthday with your family.

Such is the life of my son, Sean, the sensitive one. He is always one breath, one heartbeat away from feeling deeply about a person, an object or even a piece of music or a poem. He is, like his sister, always feeling what others feel. He can put himself in their shoes, and he doesn't like it when the outcome isn't happy. He wants happiness and joy always, so he is affected by music that is dark or suspenseful. He can sense when someone is going to be embarrassed by something in a television show, and then both he and Gavin -- who is also very in tune with embarrassment -- will run from the room with their hands over their ears. Only when he knows things will turn out okay will he venture back in to watch. Sean is my child who needs to take walks during movies when the tension is too high or the music is too powerful.

Because of this bounty of emotional energy, Sean is both irresistible and difficult. He is the child you want to shelter from the storm, comfort in sorrow, and jump for joy with because he truly experiences all these things. The difficulty with emotions is that they are fleeting and can be temperamental, so he may whirl things up and just be mad. He experiences almost everything to the fullest, so anger is part of who he is. He seethes when teased instead of letting it bounce off him.

Sean is so very smart. He spends a lot of time thinking and dreaming up ideal video game scenarios and cool inventions. His imagination knows no bounds, and he doesn't apply normal boundaries to things. He is a free mind, willing to look at impossible things as just events that haven't happened yet. If you want to have a conversation about space travel or time travel, you can have a pretty good one with Sean, and it won't matter if the science isn't sound. All those details are relative.

Sean is a child who can meet his own needs. This has led to some funny situations, like his ordering room service when he was four because he wanted to try some warm milk. He doesn't sense boundaries the way others do (we're realizing now this is part of his ADHD -- more on that later), so he finds a way to get what he needs. This sounds like rationalizing bad behavior, and sometimes he does do things wrong, but other times he is simply searching earnestly for ways to meet his own needs. For instance, getting a book in class to read during silent reading when it's not time to be out of your seat, asking the librarian immediately where the book he wants is as opposed to spending some time finding it, peppering Grandma with video game requests the second he has a new one in mind, navigating through the world of "cheat codes" on the computer to find out how to conquer the next level. He is not afraid to try something if it means that he can achieve his objective. And yes, Grant and I see both the danger and the potential for greatness in that character trait.

Sean makes me happy most days because of his willingness and desire to share himself and his feelings. He wants hugs and kisses from me and will walk up and ask for them. He is so complicated and lovely and open. I cannot wait to help him grow up into such an amazing man, in tune with his emotions and able to share himself with others. I want to teach him to live passionately and enjoy life while accepting society's rules and to not get too discouraged when life gets tough and messy.

Back to School

This picture was taken on August 30, the first day of CAVA 3rd grade. The boys were up and ready to work (and eat breakfast) at the counter where we do our lessons. They were in a great mood for the first day of school (going out for doughnuts really helps), and we buzzed through our lessons in record time.

Grace was home on our first day of CAVA because Fulton didn't begin until later in the week. It was nice to have her home for our first couple of days, even if she does rile up the boys a bit.

Here is the daughter on her first day of middle school. She was awake early and ready to go. It was a Thursday, which is early day, so she didn't have to worry about packing a lunch. Her bookbag was heavy enough with the binders and school supplies, but she was confident and felt good about starting her year.

I am so much more calm for the start of this school year. I was actually looking forward to the start of school, not because I wanted the kids out of my hair or I was craving a routine (although I do like a good routine), but because for the first time in a long time, I am not stressed about the outcome. I am not worried about my boys. I am confident in my daughter and eager to see her rise to meet new challenges.

Thank you, Lord, for small mercies: for the beauty in first days of school that are free from anxiety and worry. Help me manage my insecurities and anxieties so that there will be many, many days like today.