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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Vegas, Baby!

Yes, this picture is of the Moshers in good old Sin City. We took a last-minute summer trip across the desert and hung out with good friends. It was 105 every day, but, you know,

it's a dry heat.

We started off our trip on Sunday, August 22. We drove through to Barstow and ate lunch at Del Taco. This restaurant was a wonder to our kids for three reasons: drawings and renderings of all the Del Taco restaurant styles from 1964 to present (this thrilled Gavin), giant, jaw-stretching gumballs (Sean was in heaven), and tacos that were filled to bursting, unlike our regular Del Taco (Grace was full after two tacos -- unheard of!). Gavin was so enamored of this particular restaurant that he asked us to "bookmark" it for future trips.

Sean and I enjoy goofy time.

One of the highlights of our trip was hanging out with the Lawrences, who stopped in Vegas on their way home from the Grand Canyon. Here, Uncle Mike takes on all the kids in the Marriott Summerlin Resort pool. He was a trooper. The Mojitos we were enjoying poolside really helped him. They also helped me, but not for the same reason.

Look at this face. She is soooo cute. We love Kellen.

And Kellen loves the pool. She has no fear.

On Sunday evening, we went to Chili's and celebrated Jay's 8th birthday. We were so fortunate to time this so we could enjoy his special day. Jay got to celebrate his birthday in the states of Arizona and Nevada, but not his home state. Wacky!

Sean was quite the fashionable dude in Vegas. He was bound and determined to wear his funky magician hat all over town. Where else but Vegas, right?

The other reason we went to Vegas was to visit our friend Rod and his son Christian. Christian just graduated from high school and will be heading off to the Air Force in November. We are so proud of him and so amazed at how he has grown up. Grant and Rod got to spend some quality time together, which is terrific.

More crazy pool shots.

Grace and Gavin

Grace and Sean

Here we are leaving on Tuesday. We had a really nice time and will be out again this way soon.

Alohomora!

This summer, the boys unlocked the joy and wisdom of the Harry Potter universe. Grant and I were so excited at their enthusiasm for the characters because we have loved these books and have found such great joy reading through them over the years. Both of us have spent August days anxiously waiting for our Amazon boxes to arrive with the latest Harry Potter book inside. There was even one summer when I spent the entire day in a hotel room reading the 7th book from cover to cover (I ordered room service, took a nap, and it seriously was the best day EVER). These books have been so important to us that it is gratifying to see our children like them or, at the very least, embrace the world that is within them. The boys were introduced to Rowling's wizarding world through the new Lego Harry Potter video game that we bought for our trip to Escondido.

Since our vacation, we have spent many a night watching the Harry Potter movies and discussing the many elements of the books. Yes, the boys have picked up the first book and are reading through it, but the books are big (at least after book three they are big), so we see more skimming through the tomes than actual consumption. However, no matter. We still have talked about the themes present in the books: friendship, bravery, wisdom, choices, good vs. evil, and so forth. We have had very meaningful conversations because the books are so rich with examples and details of the many things children (and adults) face in real life (albeit our lives are lacking in real spell casting and the presence of dark wizards). Almost every day, we get peppered with questions about characters or why certain things happen and in which book something occurs. Often Sean will just grab one of the books and skim through it at night, reading the parts that appeal to him. That's fine by us.

Grace has enjoyed this resurgence of interest in the books as well. She started the series when she was in kindergarten, and she had forgotten some of the details of the books. She found the Potter Puppet Pals on YouTube a couple of years ago, and she can quote nearly all the episodes, including "Wizard Swears" and "The Mysterious Ticking Noise." She has enjoyed playing the video game and the new Hogwarts Lego board game that we recently bought. She put the whole thing together and has played several games with her brothers, trying extra hard to be patient with them. It's been fun to watch them all play together with something that they all enjoy.

In addition to our all being able to sing the catchy tune on "The Mysterious Ticking Noise," the best example of how this new obsession has invaded our lives was the sentence I had to utter -- no, I'm sorry, shout -- last night when the boys were having yet another wizard duel in the living room. I've become so complacent about the Harry Potter vernacular that I find myself answering questions about/with Hogwarts terminology: "Well, yes, if you did have a Firebolt, you could do your chores more quickly," or "You have to make a choice. We don't have a Time Turner!" You get the idea. Since this easy shift from real world parlance to wizarding world lingo takes place on a daily basis, it didn't even dawn on me what I was saying until I yelled at the boys last night: "I will not have any killing curses in my house!" when Gavin went straight for the Avada Kedavra on Sean instead of using something more realistic like Stupefy! or Reducto! I mean, really. Unforgivable curses are so illegal.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for allowing us to borrow your creativity so that we can be more creative in our lives. We are indebted to you.

Good-bye Moiola

On June 17, 2010, Grace spent her last day as a student at Moiola Elementary. She will be a 6th grader in the fall at Fulton Middle School.

This was a bittersweet day because we had assumed all our children would attend Moiola from kindergarten through eighth grade. We imagined a happy, caring environment in which I could volunteer and be a big part of campus life. We liked the idea of all our children at the same campus for a longer time. We imagined everyone knowing our family and delighting in watching our kids grow in this safe, small, tight-knit neighborhood school. Trust me when I say that lots of people know our family, but I've had to mourn the educational dream I envisioned. I've had to realize that sometimes other situations are better for your children or for yourself.

So, instead of Moiola, the boys will continue with me at CAVA for third grade and then move to a traditional brick and mortar school in the years to come. And instead of Moiola, Grace is going to go to the middle school where hopefully she will have more academically appropriate classes and more opportunities for growth. She leaves behind so many wonderful friends (half her group is going to Fulton and half are staying) and the memories of many happy days. Moiola was a good place for Grace to grow and form lasting friendships and be in the classrooms of some pretty wonderful teachers.

Good-bye Moiola. Thanks for everything. You've set us on a new path, and for that, we are grateful.

Grace on her first day of Kindergarten. She's in her calm but confident pose.

Grace, standing on the front porch, which is our standard "first day of school" spot for pictures. She's wearing her favorite pink and brown Roxy surf outfit, complete with skirt -- yes, you read that right -- a skirt.

My beautiful 11-year-old, with her yearbook and her glasses and her straight teeth and her new hairdo, ready to attend her last day of school.
Grace standing in front of Moiola's school sign. We are walking to the car after summer blast, after having friends sign her yearbook and after saying good-bye to some favorite teachers.

Peter Pan

Grace in her ferocious makeup for her role as Slightly, Peter Pan's lieutenant.

Grace and Dad after the big show, in her costume, taking pictures with her adoring fans.

The whole family (Jay included), with the boys in their fancy hats. We were all so proud!

Grace just completed a two-week run of Peter Pan with MYART, her community theater troupe of choice. This is the third show she's done with MYART, and she's rarin' to go for another in the fall. (I, on the other hand, was whupped by this show and the costumes I had to create and the money spent. But what's a theater mom to do?)

Peter Pan ran May 7, 8,9 and 14, 15, with two shows on each Saturday and two field trip shows on the respective Fridays. Grace did her "lead" on the night of Friday the 14th, and we were blessed with many friends and family members who showed up to support her.

She was terrific in her role. She sang, she acted and she filled in a line for someone who didn't say hers. I love how Grace's talent is growing and that she is looking forward to trying out for bigger roles in the years to come. Brava!!

Amazing Grace

This is my love letter to Grace, daughter extraordinaire, and really all-around fantastic human being.

Grace turned 11 on May 6, and I am stunned to think of all the time that has gone by since that first foggy night when we brought her home. I remember exiting the hospital doors, just Grant and Grace and me, and getting into the backseat of our blue Honda Civic so I could watch over her on the ride home. I remember thinking that we shouldn't be allowed to take her home yet. Why on earth do nurses trust people to take two-day-old infants away from the safe hospital? What is wrong with them? So there we were, driving maybe 45 miles an hour on the 22 freeway on our way home to the condo in Huntington Beach. And then we took her upstairs in the baby carrier and sat her down and looked at her sleeping face. For a long time. We just looked and wondered what on earth we should do now. Should we get her out and put her in her crib or just let her sleep? (Because we both knew that you should NEVER wake up a sleeping baby.) We looked at each other in confusion and then realized that from this point on all decisions regarding this beautiful child were ours to make. Mistakes or no, we were on the hook for her growth and for her emotional, physical and intellectual development. Holy crap.

Flash Forward.

I still love to look at her. I might not stare at her for a long time because she would think that was creepy, but I can steal enough glances to know that I am still full of wonder at this beautiful child. Grace, for the most part, defies expectations. She has accomplished so much for her 11 years, and we are very proud. Most everyone knows that she is smart as a whip, but not everyone knows the other things that make her fabulous.

Top Ten Things that Make Grace Fabulous:

10. She is athletic. That girl can run, swing a bat (hard), climb a tree, balance on a skateboard, and the like. She loves to try new sports and is not afraid to fall, scrape her knees or get grass stains on her pants (sigh). I love that she is competitive (for the most part) in this area and that she is willing to try new things.

9. She regards fashion as a state of mind. This one has been hard for me since I am willing to purchase really any type of cute clothes for the girl. However, Grace prefers jeans and t-shirts, especially those with funny sayings, and I need to respect her sense of self.

8. Grace has a sense of self. She really seems to know who she is and is comfortable with that knowledge. She hasn't gotten into the full middle school scene yet or hit the sometimes treacherous waters of teenagedom so that might falter a bit, but she is comfortable in her own skin, and I am grateful for that.

7. She has a musical chops. Not only does the girl love her drama (more on that in a minute), but she can play the piano, sing and even harmonize! Her favorite thing to do is pick out one instrument in a given song (or voice as the case may be) and follow the note patterns, tune or melody through to the end. I am so jealous. I am hoping she works more on that talent.

6. She's inventive. Grace loves to think about contraptions or inventions that could work or plans that she could put in place. She is always devising something or creating the schematics for something. Often she'll ask me about complex scientific principles (like I would know, bless her. Quantum physics anyone? Bueller?) to see if she's on the right track. My advice is always library or Google it.

5. She's worried about global issues. Grace once drew up a rather simple solution to the crisis in Jerusalem over the holy temple. Her solution was to allow Muslims access to the temple on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays and Jews access on the other days (or some variation thereof). She does not understand all the nuances involved, but she wants a world of peace and she's trying to create workable solutions. I love that her heart stretches beyond the house and city we live in and that she's willing to put something down on paper.

4. Grace loves big, deep discussions. She loves to bring up a topic and then see where it goes. She and I are famous for starting an innocuous discussion about cute puppies (Oh! Look at that puppy!) which leads to dog walking responsibilities, which leads to talking about pet ownership and then home ownership and then at what age one buys a house and where one wants to look for a house and then college and then areas of study and future goals, and then we end at glass ceilings for women in the workplace. All this from "cute puppy." She and I ponder a lot, and she's a great conversationalist. After one of these lengthy discussions, we usually look at each other and say, "How did we get on this topic?" I pray that our deep discussions continue for as long as we live.

3. She loves the theater. My girl has the performance gene, and nothing makes her happier than being on stage. She just finished with Peter Pan and had her biggest role to date. During the ride to her performance as Slightly, Peter Pan's lead lost boy, I tried to give her some advice, such as, "Don't worry about anyone in the audience. Just have fun!" She turned to me and said, "Mom, do you think I have stage fright?" in a tone that suggested my supposition if that were the case would be idiotic. She is comfortable and happy on stage, and I wish her many years of success and joy as a performer.

2. Grace is a writer. The picture above of my daughter wearing a dress (gasp) was taken at a reception for her and nine other winners of a short-story-writing contest sponsored by the Orange County Public Libraries and the Irvine Barclay Theater. Out of 250 or so entries, 10 stories were chosen for publication and have been compiled into a book that is available to check out from each of the 30-some-odd branches. I love that my daughter finds the same joy, solace and fulfillment in writing that I do. I love that she will ask for computer time to finish a chapter or two on the latest story that she is working on rather than to play games (okay, sometimes she quits writing in favor of playing, but that's okay). I know that writing is going to play a huge part in her life.

1. Grace is committed to learning. I'm not just talking about school work or grades. Grace wants to know things. She is really good at memorizing trivia and sharing fun facts about random items (did you know that there is a species of shark that can bark? I did not. Still don't want to know), but the core of her commitment lies with bettering herself as a human being. She has a capacity for understanding how lessons are learned and then how to apply that knowledge to her life. I'll never forget when she sought out the school psychologist in second grade to get some perspective on her emetophobia (fear of vomiting). This had been such a problem for her and for us, and she took some steps to try and solve it on her own. She never enjoys getting in trouble, but she tries to learn from each experience. This is one of those character traits that is so hard to teach. She might have to learn the same lesson a few times, but I see how she tries to put the lesson into practice.

I have such high hopes for this girl. And while I'm eager to see where she ends up in her life, I am loathe to let that time fly by so quickly. My goal is to savor each day before middle school and high school take away some of the focus and present new and even scary challenges. I know that whatever happens, God will watch out for her and help her become a tremendous participant of the world. I am just so grateful on a daily basis that she is part of our world.

The Harried Blogger

Hello, my name is Sheryl, and it's been 15 days since my last post.

I have no excuse for not posting besides my busy schedule, but doesn't everyone have a busy schedule these days? Isn't that the reason why we blog: to keep track of those crazy moments so we can reflect back years from now? So we can have a record of what we did while we were on this earth and what we did during our kids' formative years? I need to get better at posting!

Because of my limited brain functionality -- I am 40 now, you know -- I have had to focus all my attention (and I do mean all) to the items that have consumed my life for the past three weeks: Grace's MYART show, Grace's birthday, the boys' daily lessons and IN-CLASS State Testing and, to a lesser extent, my 40th birthday, which came and went like a flash and left me a year older and psychologically in flux. These events all require their own separate postings, but the aggregate effect of having multiple events happen at one time was overwhelming. I wanted to process everything one item at a time, but as you know, the real world asks you to process several things at once, often to unsatisfactory conclusions.

So, today, on the boys' 8th birthday, I will resume our tales of the burrow and start hitting the highlights of the past few weeks. Hold on. Be Patient. There's a lot to tell . . . .

Julia Louis-Dreyfus Honored On Walk Of Fame... With A Typo

Having been an editor for a long time, I cringed when I saw this headline, and then I laughed so hard I nearly cried. I am still trying to imagine what chain of events had to happen for a mistake of this magnitude to occur. Now, I know what it's like to misspell something or not catch a typo in a presentation or memo. These things do happen, but to someone who edits for a living, these things should RARELY happen. We're all human, even editors, and no matter how many times your eyes roam over a document, there is always a remote possibility that you have missed something. This is why most editors will spend extra time going over a letter, document, advertisement, and the like if it is going to be seen by millions of people. And then, they will have an assistant look at it. Then, if possible, they will look at it again. As a former editor and mentor once told me, "There are two jobs in which you can never make a mistake: editor and umpire." Enough said.

Therefore, it is with absolute incredulity that I ponder the situation that happened with Julia Louis-Dreyfus's star on the Walk of Fame. It's not like they couldn't find out how to spell her name. It's not like they couldn't Google it and double-check themselves. Her name isn't Star Jones or Joan Rivers, which have conventional spellings. Her name has a hyphen, for goodness' sake! Holy smokes. This is either laziness at its best or pure stupidity; I'm not sure. Maybe both?

When Grace, who is 10 (11 tomorrow), was doing her report on Michelle Obama and wanted to find out Michelle's middle name, she conducted a Google search that yielded three different results (including Shaniqua, which I was secretly hoping was Michelle Obama's middle name because girlfriend could totally rock that.) So when Grace asked me which one was correct, I told her she needed to do additional research to find out which one was right, including looking up the White House website and Michelle Obama's First Lady website. Michelle Obama's full name is Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama. My 10-year-old figured that one out and, of course, credited her source on her paper. Why on God's green earth couldn't someone have called Julia's agent and asked to confirm his or her client's rather unusual name? Would that not fall under the realm of common sense?

Apparently, Julia thought this whole thing was hilarious and asked them to keep the misspelled star in the ground, but by then sheepish folks were apologizing and RE-CHISELING a new star. That's what gets me, too. They have to chisel in the name. It's not like you can run spell check and then backspace. You have to re-chisel a whole new piece of granite. So, in closing, may this be a lesson to all: Do not take names or spelling for granite (okay, just kidding on that one). No, seriously, find out how to spell something before setting it in stone (See what I did there? I am on a roll.) Ack!

Expose Yourself to Art

For our last big trip of Spring Break, the family headed out of the Burrow and went to Los Angeles so we could take in the Renoir and American Stories exhibits at LACMA. After the amazingly long drive (traffic was well, you know), we arrived and prepared to meet the Masters, as it were. The kids were really good, but they got a bit restless after seeing that there were only rooms of paintings in our first exhibit. But who can really blame them? After seeing Copley's Watson and the Shark there is little that can be that exciting! The hub and I would have loved to meander slowly and see the brilliant way the museum set out the exhibit, but we understood that little ones (even little 11-year-olds) need to experience art at their own pace and develop an appreciation. Also, they were hungry. What's a mom to do? Feed 'em.

So we lunched and found the sculpture garden where everyone perked up, and pictures were taken and art was squealed at. Gavin, especially, wanted his picture taken with every sculpture, which wound up being funny and a tad annoying. We also walked around the La Brea Tar Pits, which is right next door. This was both interesting and smelly, and the kids were fascinated and saddened by the poor ancient animals' fates.

We completed our tour with a journey through the Renoir exhibit, which was absolutely wonderful. Renoir's paintings (yes, lots more paintings) are incredible, and it was a bit humbling to see these great works that we may never have the chance to see again (a fact I kept reminding the kids about). All was great until the room full of nudes, which brought all kinds of reactions.

Mine: "Aw crap. This could be bad."

The Hub: Much study and gazing is needed in this section.

Grace: "Mom, don't you find this a bit disturbing?"

Sean: "Mom . . . ." (I cut him off before he could even ask in his much-too-loud-for-indoors-voice and explained about nudes and artists and drawing the human form, etc. which might have been more information than he needed, but he seemed content after my explanation.)

Gavin: Let's just say, the Maillol sculpture Action in Chains truly touched him -- or was it the other way around? My son just could not keep himself from poking the belly button of this nude female form. It could have been so much worse, I know (think "Tune In Tokyo"), but I was still mortified, and we rushed from the room of nudes into, well, another room of nudes. Oh, that Renoir . . .

After contemplating a painting titled Large Bather and realizing that the large bather Renoir painted was indeed smaller than myself, we marched out in disgust (okay, that was just me) and up to the third floor where there is a nice permanent Warhol exhibit. Along with the other crazy pop art and modern sculptures, the Warhols were a huge hit with the kids. Add to that the fact that all fingers and other body parts stayed away from the tempting art and you can say that this was the kids' and our favorite place. Gavin and Sean even tried to mimic the dance steps featured in one of Warhol's paintings, which was really cute.

It was a wonderful day and a good chance to talk about the art and the artists the boys and I have studied these past few months. It was gratifying to hear them discuss Homer and Matisse and recognize a Cassatt painting from one of their books. We even had a cute moment at the end where we all sat in chairs and looked at a series of prints by an unknown-to-us artist. I asked each child which painting was his/her favorite and why. The answers varied, and the reasons covered everything from deep thought to surface impressions, but that was okay. I assured them that all their answers were correct because with art all things are possible and nothing is ever wrong.

If only there were pictures . . .

I am without a camera. My latest one bailed on me last Sunday night. This is the second camera to die on me in the past six months. So, needless to say my postings will be bereft of visual confirmations until I can purchase a new camera. And this was the week to have a camera on hand. Some things that will not be shot for posterity (that really is a leading sentence . . . ):

1. My boys fully engulfed in their maps of the San Diego Wild Animal Park and not watching the path, other people, their own feet, and so forth.

2. The tiniest elephant in the world -- seriously, I thought it was a toy. With the proper zoom lens, this would have been the cutest picture EVER! Baby elephant, born on Valentine's Day, walking with his mom at the Wild Animal Park. I could just cry.

3. My boys cuddling their stuffed lion cub (Sean) and meerkat (Gavin) as we exited the park. Sean named his "Cuddles," and Gavin named his "Aurora." (Gavin always names his stuffed animals after girls. Not sure why. A little afraid to ask. )

4. My daughter and the hub getting ready for their first snowboarding experience! Gloves, hats, bibs, snow jackets, boots -- the works! They looked fabulous and so excited.

5. My daughter and the hub lying prone on the couch after their first snowboarding trip, still happy but exhausted.

6. My daughter and the hub limping and groaning the day after their first snowboarding trip, not quite as happy but talking about going again.

7. Crane Fly Land -- Lately, our home has been swarming with these prehistoric bugs. They are loud and seem drunk because they cannot fly straight at all. There are so many of them on the wall; they look like art.

8. Henry eating the crane flies that the hub swats. (Actually that would be a pretty gross picture, so I'm kinda glad I didn't pursue that one.)

9. Grace's open house. This will be her last year at this school, and I have no picture of her classroom or teacher or desk, etc. Will be stalking later.

10. Henry grabbing the ShamWow and running all over the backyard while we're trying to dye eggs. That dog is fast! Would have been much easier to get a new towel, but I was invested at that point. Grace finally succeeded after employing bribing and trickery. Good girl.

11. Mosher Dance Party time -- There's something about The Black Eyed Peas . . .

12. Our backyard and how nice it looks when Jose has been here.

13. Kellen, our sweet little niece, running after Henry in the backyard saying, "Me too! Me too!" because it's fun to run around like the crazy dog.

14. Sean playing (and totally obsessed) with Uncle Mike's iPhone.

15. The cool Easter baskets and presents the Easter Bunny brought. That Easter Bunny is pretty clever. . . .

Happy Easter to all. Celebrate life and redemption and freedom. May your day be joyful and your camera at the ready . . .

Hang-gliding Mom

There has been much talk lately about helicopter parenting. If you need a refresher, a helicopter parent is someone who hovers protectively over his/her children and essentially butts in all the time even when they are old enough to know better. I have heard of helicopter moms calling law firms when their children are grown to find out why their son/daughter did not get a raise or dads coming with their children to job interviews, college interviews, and the like.

I made a vow to never be one of these parents. I want my children to have autonomy, to grow up as individuals (like I have a choice in that one) and see the world the way their hearts and minds tell them to as opposed to having their father's or my personal views of life shoved down their throats (except, of course, for the essentials: love of literature, love of God, great taste in music, a true desire to help people, use of proper grammar, etc.). Oh, who am I kidding? While I don't believe I'm a true helicopter mom, I do believe that ever since the kids were born, I have secretly taken up hang-gliding. See, with hang-gliding I make less noise. I do hover over them; however, I can soar up to the sky on the pretense that I am letting my kids do what they need to do, but bam! I can swoop down on an air current and meddle loudly all I wish, all the while holding onto that bar -- you know, the one I can keep impossibly high if I need to? Hang-gliding mom: it's what's new in dysfunctional parenting!

I have a difficult time with failure. Mine. Others'. Especially my kids'. Wanting or needing to do everything right and perfectly (a holdover from childhood), I go through each day trying not to make mistakes, especially egregious ones. And I extend this lovely way of life to my children. I have never been one who can just watch and see when one of them is going to make a mistake, be it large or small. I cringe. My mouth scrunches up funny. I start sweating. And then, I have to say something, usually loudly, like: "Grace, for the 82nd time, a) We are going to be late for school, b) You need to pick up the yard, c) Have you finished your homework?, d) What do you mean there's a poster due tomorrow?"

For the most part, my practically perfect daughter is on the ball. She has a planner. She even writes her assignments in them. She gets good grades and has made some great friends, all on her own. I have not hovered over her as much as I have the boys because she has been able to get things done. However, my daughter has become a teenager, about three years too early for my taste. And with this new designation comes the requisite slack-jaw and blank stare. My little pookie, my "gracious," has become a bit surly and unresponsive and even, dare I say, forgetful or preoccupied? What happened to blind obedience? uh, . . . I mean, why doesn't she listen to me anymore? I nag quite loudly; why can't she hear me?

So, what is a hang-gliding mom to do? My wise hubby says to let her forget an assignment or be late to school because she needs to learn that her actions or lack of actions have consequences. And while she has been so together for the past 10 years, she needs to reassess and start making some choices for herself and on her own. SAY WHAAATT?

If I take the hub's advice, then what will be my role in all this (since it's all about me, right?)? Do I soar high and let her find her way regardless of her choices good or bad, or do I swoop down and carry her along? Some of both? Since she is only 10, almost 11, I tend to lean toward the latter. But what if the hub is right, and letting her fail at something (late assignments, incomplete assignments, forgetting something, being late to school, etc.) will be the best way for her to learn? Can I be strong enough for that? Because the opposite holds true too: she is only 10, almost 11, and her failures at this age are less painful and less permanent. They are only painful for a little while and hopefully will have a lasting impact.

I am wrestling with this one, and I hope I make the right choice for her. It's hard. But I will hold tight to my bar, kick off the cliff and soar -- not too high, mind you, but high enough to see her, reach her, and hopefully not crash into a mountain while I'm up there.

Patience, Pressure and Pokemon

These guys are so darned cute, and I just love them to pieces. I love that I am able to teach them at home in a safe environment where learning is the primary objective and having fun while doing it is the second! (Hello, chocolate igneous rock formation . . . ) However, I have noticed recently that I am losing my patience with them really quickly, and I want my behavior to stop.

As much as I want them to sit absolutely still and pay attention to the fabulous lessons (and believe me, this K12 curriculum has some fabulous lessons -- "Let's create a Cezanne painting!" "Let's learn about the Byzantine Empire!" "Wait, should we be reducing fractions in second grade? Why not!"), I need to remember that they are seven years old. They are not even eight yet, and they have the right and the need to squirm and move around and march in place and look off into the distance, even when they are enjoying the material.

The bottom line is that we have the luxury of letting squirms happen! Now that we have caught up with the rest of the students (We started the school year in December and had to do an entire semester in two months), there is no need for any more pressure. So why am I constantly barking at them to watch the screen, watch me, pay attention, etc. when they falter for a minute? I am even resorting to ultimatums almost out of the gate: "If you don't pay attention and focus, then I am taking 15 minutes off video game time today." Sheesh! I am not operating with any sort of positive motivation, and I am resorting to the reactive parenting I don't like. I am getting the desired behavior in my "class," but only because they are scared of me or scared they're going to lose out on doing something they enjoy. This is exactly why I took them out of their old school: to get them away from teachers who sought to punish them instead of teach them. I also don't like using fear as a motivator.

I also realized that we cram a lot of learning into a little bit of time. We jump from one lesson or subject to another with very few breaks in between. We're done with school in three hours because these boys can do that. However, Grace, who could also get through all her subjects in three hours or less, has six hours to get her work done, leaving plenty of time for staring out the window, drawing comic books, and humming the Pokemon theme song in her head. And while I don't like that Grace has an awful lot of free time on her hands (she has drawn A LOT of comic books over the past three years), I can see the value in being able to sit and think randomly after your work is done. That's a skill -- a valuable one -- that helps you release the pressure of the day. The boys get no down time during the day to just think or ponder or envision new Pokemon creations (although Sean might just do this as a matter of course).

Homeschooling is a new endeavor, but I need to make this experience fun for all of us and remind myself daily that patience is the key as is good planning and a little down time mixed into the lessons. They need to squirm and move and stare into space. It's okay. It's what kids do. Even those at home in their pajamas.