One More Year

One more year - until I am officially a mother of a teenager. Nathaniel celebrated his 12th birthday yesterday - where on earth has the time gone?

We celebrated by going to Old Country Buffet - Nathaniel was so excited. And, in typical 12-year-old style, he tried to not eat much before we went. Then he ate so quickly, he got a stomachache. Fortunately, the restaurant was pretty empty, so he was able to lay down in a booth nearby for a few minutes to let his stomach settle before going back for more.

Ah, boys.

And of course, this mother brought her camera, enjoyed her dinner and managed to get through the entire celebration without taking one, single solitary picture! Big. Ol'. Sigh.

The good news is that the daffodils are blooming! The first one bloomed this morning - just in time for a picture.

The bad news is that I'm leaving on Monday for a week. I'm afraid they'll all bloom without me! My friends have promised to take pictures - it won't be the same - but it's something.

Enjoy these days my friends. I cannot believe how quickly they fly by...

The End is Near

No, not the end of the world - but the end of college basketball. Until fall at least.

Since the Final Four are this weekend, and the Championship Game is on Monday night, I thought I would share this final basketball poem (for now - I have a few others in mind for another time).

I have to say, even if you do not follow college basketball, you have to admire those Butler Bulldogs. An amazing team from a small conference - a 5th seed, making into the Final Four! Perfect year too, because the Final Four will be played this year in Indianapolis - a basketball-crazy town that will gladly adopt the home team since neither Purdue or Indiana University are playing. Go Butler! I'd love it if they won the championship.

An update on our family pool - if West Virgina beats Duke on Saturday night, then Glen wins. If Duke beats West Virginia, then probably Isaac will win. If Duke wins the National Championship, he's golden. Both he and Lydia chose Duke to win it all.

I'll let you know next week - when the games are done. It makes me a little bit sad to write that - which is why this poem is appropriate.

After the Game

By Tony Johnston

The game is over.

But the gym still

thrums

with the basketball’s

THUMP –

THUMP –

THUMPY

hum.

poetry Wednesday

Longing for Sunny Faces

Last fall I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Glen and I had had big, ugly bushes removed from the front of our house, and we hadn't planted grass in the bare spot yet. I've always, always, always wanted tulips, hundreds of tulips in my front yard. However, we're in a major deer zone, so that was out of the question.

I was in Sam's Club (rare occasion indeed!) and spotted a bag of 100 daffodil bulbs for under $20. Perfect! I had done enough research to know that deer are not fond of daffodils, and if I can't have tulips, then daffodils are the second best.

So, I bought the bag. Planted 100 bulbs. 100. Oh, was I sore! I was praying that I had planted them deep enough, far enough apart and that all that work would not be for naught.

Out my front door this morning I'm seeing some green shoots! I'm so excited! Nathaniel said today, "Mom there are, like a hundred of these shoots. How many did you plant?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

I cannot wait until those flowers show their sunny, cheerful blooms!

I'll be sure to post a picture.

Hoops

March Madness lasts for such a short time. I cannot believe that we're already down to the 'Sweet 16' round - eliminating 48 of the 64 teams which originally started. (That stat is courtesy of my husband, Glen.)

And what a year this has been! Glen and I have already lost our National Champion in our brackets (Kansas) - what a game! Neither of us begrudge Kansas' loss to Northern Iowa. UNI is almost a home team for us. We met and married in Waterloo/Cedar Falls - Glen was on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ at UNI and I was working for KWWL-TV.

It's the upsets that make the tournament so fascinating - and picking the right ones this year has been hard. Anna's done the best - she picked Murray State over Vanderbuilt. I remember her asking me, "Does a 13 ever beat a 4? Does a 12 ever beat a 5?" I said, "Yes, that has happened, but it doesn't happen often." I think Anna wins our pool of picking the most upsets correctly.

But none of us ever thought that UNI would knock Kansas out of the tournament in the second round.

Just writing about the games makes me excited! My poem this week is a long one - but a great one about basketball. I found it in the library, a book unto itself. I think it captures the feel of the game wonderfully well.

Hoops

By Robert Burleigh

Hoops.

The game.

Feel it.

The rough roundness.

The ball

like a piece

of the thin long reach

of your body.

The way it answers whenever you call.

The never-stop back and forth flow,

like tides going in, going out.

The smooth,

skaterly glide

and sudden swerve.

The sideways slip

Through a moment of narrow space.

The cool.

The into

and under

and up.

The feathery fingertip roll

and soft slow drop.

Feel your throat on fire.

Feel the asphalt burning beneath your shoes.

The two-of-you rhythm.

The know-where-everyone-is without having to look.

The watching

and waiting

to poke

and pounce.

The fox on the lurk.

The hunger.

The leap from the pack.

The out-in-the-clear

like a stallion

with wind in your face.

The bent legs tense

as the missed shot swirls

and silently spins.

The hawk.

your arm shooting up

through a thicket of arms.

The lean

and brush

and burst free.

The skittery,

cat-footed dance

along the baseline.

The taste

for the rock in your hands

when it counts the most.

The weight of you

hanging from fine,

invisible threads.

The eyes.

The arc.

The no-sound

sound of the ball

as it sinks

through nothing but still,

pure air.

Yes.

Hoops.

The game.

Feel it.

poetry wednesday!
Picture courtesy of flickr.com:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/glassware/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

It's Friday Already? ( Week in Review)

And Friday's almost gone! Time goes so quickly...

This is the view from my front door this morning. My two youngest are always up for a picture.

Then I spotted my Mom's car coming in the driveway, which distracted Isaac. She was coming to pick them up for the morning so I could study. But Lydia looks so cute here, I had to post it.

Yesterday, we read about batteries, circuits and switches in our Sonlight science book. Isaac was completely inspired by the light hat and Justin dressed up as a miner in our Science DVD. He insisted on putting together his own light hat. I was busy with schooling the older two, so he and Lydia worked on it together, and got it working! He and Nathaniel went down to the crawl space to try it out and Nathaniel took this picture. Isaac is so pleased - he can't wait to show his cousin this weekend. I'm sure they'll be playing 'spy' or 'explore' with it all weekend.

Look at these lovely young ladies! Anna successfully completed Suzuki Book One for the piano and I learned from her friends who take violin that students are to host a recital upon the completion of each book. Sunday was her recital, and her good friend agreed to play with her on her violin. They played three songs together, and Anna played several on her own. I cannot believe how mature my Anna looks here! Her recital went well. And quickly - it took only eight minutes.

A Mad, Mad March

This month is a big month in this Leichty household. This week is a big week.

Why?

The NCAA Basketball Tournament begins tomorrow - a whole day and night of basketball games... and a whole Friday, and a whole Saturday, and a whole Sunday.

Normally, this would not make me happy. However, since we've been married, Glen & I have had a contest every March. He makes his picks for the tourney, and I make mine.

For the first 10 years, I won. Yes, me, who rarely watches college basketball, except in March. It drove Glen crazy because I made my picks like this:

"Mizzou is my alma mater, so I'll pick them. I've heard good things about Duke, so I'll pick them. My cousin is at Oregon, so I'll pick them to win."

Little to do with ranking, how they played in their respective conference tournaments, or what the commentators are saying.

Like I said, it drove Glen crazy.

The problem is, I started second-guessing myself. I think I'm still ahead overall in our contests, but have lost ground over the past few years.

Now we've included the kids in our contest - Glen calls it the Leichty family 'pool'. I wrote down Isaac & Lydia's picks yesterday (they both picked Clemson to beat Mizzou - what's that all about?!)

Anna made a point to tell me that she picked Mizzou. That's my girl!

Hoop Dream

By Rebecca Kai Dotlich

The sound of the ball

as it drums on the ground.

The fans in the stands

who are held spellbound.

The tick of the clock.

The feel of the floor.

One quick, sure step,

then shoot to score!

Poetry Wednesday
flickr photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/matthijs/

Is It Spring Yet?

It's hard to believe that in just one week all that snow has melted out of our front yard.

This morning, this was the view out of my front door - my younger two children riding their bikes in our driveway. They were so excited to be outside!

All four children spent most of the day outside - mostly on the swing set in the backyard. We took a walk in the neighborhood this morning - enjoying the sun while it peeked through the clouds.

This week's weather has been a tease - making us think that spring is here. I keep telling myself that the cold will come back. It could even snow a couple more times before the real spring is here.

My kids are ready for spring too - not just to play outside. The girls have changed the flannel sheets on their bed, pulled out their flip flops, and asked to get out their shorts! I'm trying to temper their enthusiasm so they're not devastated by a probable late-spring snowstorm.

But today - today we reveled in the relative warmth of the day.

First Robin

This morning, my oldest sent an e-mail to everyone on his e-mail list announcing that he had seen the first robin of the season.

He was so excited.

This afternoon, we went for a walk, and he spotted two more.

Spring is on its way! If I had had my camera I would have tried to capture the moment. However, I didn't. (When will I learn?!)

Today's poem is dedicated to my oldest, robin-spotting son, Nathaniel.

Spring Real Estate
by Eileen Spinelli

Here is a house, dear robin.
The floors and walls are strong.
It's safe from wind
and snug from rain
and yours for just a song.

(I just have to note here, that I am at the library. An unexpected trip to participate in a program my handy-dandy iPhone reminded me of one hour before it started. I found this poem in a poetry book on the shelf in the children's section. I tell you this because I never thought I would look for a poem at the library. I'm learning!)

Poetry Wednesday - there are some great selections this week. It's worth following the link, trust me.

monday

On Friday, I was frantically finishing Isaac's pizza, packing my clothes, cleaning the kitchen, making sure the children were packing their clothes so Glen and I could drop off the children and head out for the weekend.

Yep, by ourselves. With no children. For a whole weekend.

What a treat!

But in my frenzied state, I forgot to have Anna take a picture of Glen and I before I took them to my mom & dad's for the weekend. Thankfully, my camera has a timer.

Once we took the picture, I realized I had shut down my computer. So, I thought I would just work on it at the bed & breakfast where we were spending the weekend. After all, Glen never goes anywhere without his laptop (just in case the world ends at work).

Famous last words.

Well, Friday's gone. The weekend's over. We've been there and back again (I cannot stop with the Lord of the Rings references!), and had a wonderful weekend.

Just the two of us.

Hard Places

Last week I watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy - the extended version. It's my annual depth of winter tradition, enjoyed a little late this year.

Since I watched it again, I have been pondering what about these movies, books, these stories, resonate so loudly with so many people.

I think one reason is the selflessness of the characters - so many stepping out of their comfort zone, leaving the world they know, being tested 'by fire and water' (as Gandalf was). Frodo and Sam leaving the Shire, and for the good of the world, traveling step by weary step, to the Mountain of Doom. Aragorn, overcoming his fear of his heritage to stand against evil and eventually reclaim the throne of Gondor. Even Legolas and Gimli overcome their racial prejudice between Dwarfs and Elves, if I can call it that, and become best of friends.

I could go on and on about the different themes in the book - the reality, horror and power of evil, yet its allure too, which overcome Sauruman and Denethor, and threatens Pippin. The undeniable horror of war, and yet its necessity to fight undeniable evil.

My favorite part of the whole series is in The Return of the King, in the battle before Minas Tirith when the Nazgul is ready to pounce upon King Theoden. Merry the Hobbit is there, frozen in fear of the Nazgul, yet one young warrior stands his ground against the Nazgul and forbids it to come further.

The Witch King says,

'Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!'

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. 'But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund's daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. ... I will smite you, if you touch him.'

I remember when I first read the book - I didn't know Dernhelm was Eowyn (although in the movie you do). What a thrill that scene was - when she smites the Witch King forever. What makes me marvel at it even more is that this was written in the 1960's, before the women's liberation movement. And by a man. I think those two facts make it an even more powerful, wonderful a moment (and defy those women who think men capable only of suppressing women).

It's the hard places, the weary steps of determination, the selflessness required of service to others, which make us better, stronger people. All the self-help books in the world cannot substitute for that. It's our wounds of battle - our emotional, spiritual, physical wounds - which make us beautiful. It's His wounds by which we are fully healed.

The Lord of the Rings beautifully illustrates the sorrow, and the beauty, of this life. And the anticipation of the rest and restoration we look forward to in the life to come.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Poetry Wednesday

Front Door Friday

My dad came through our front door today. Isaac opened the door for him while the other three ran to get their coats and shoes. My parents have graciously agreed to take the children once a week for a few hours so I can get some quiet studying time in to prepare for the Bible study I'm preparing. This week, this morning is my studying time.

This morning was a flurry of activity - Swedish pancakes for breakfast, cleaning up, piano lessons, finishing the schoolwork not completed yesterday - so everyone would be ready to leave when Papa rang that doorbell.

Now, it's quiet here. And I'd better get to work!

Emerging from a Fog

I’m sitting on my couch in my living room, soaking in a rare winter sunny day. As I sit here, I realize that I am ever-so-slowly (too slow for my taste) coming out of a winter fogged by a thyroid condition.

I have discovered more women than I could possibly imagine, including my mother and grandmother, are taking thyroid medications, although thyroid disorders cause different symptoms in different women.

I fought my symptoms for many months. I didn’t realize that my difficulty in sleeping, my exhaustion, and seeming inability to think – the feeling like I was walking through tar – were symptoms of hypothyroidism (a slow thyroid).

Fortunately, I decided I should really go to the doctor for my annual visit (which I last had four years ago). Also, fortunately, my doctor is well-read on thyroid issues, and realized that although the numbers in my blood test were well within the “normal” range, my symptoms indicated that something was wrong.

Dealing with this health issue this winter has made me more thankful than ever for Shaklee. Here are four reasons why:

1. Shaklee supplements have given me a good nutritional base from which to get better. Because I am not nutritionally deficient, I can focus on what helps my thyroid function better, instead of wondering if my symptoms are a result of a nutritional deficiency (which they could be).

2. I know the supplements I am taking are high-quality. My body only needs to use the nutrients I am feeding it, instead of fighting against toxins, fillers, or synthetic nutrients found in other supplements.

3. My body is freed up to heal because it is not fighting toxins found in common household cleaners. Shaklee’s Get Clean products are safe for me and my family. Plus, I can put my kids to work cleaning when I’m having a bad day. (And even when I'm not!)

4. Because Shaklee products work, you, my customers, are loyal to the products, even when I am not functioning as I would like. I appreciate that so much! My business keeps going, and I am still able to pay for my own products, even when I’m not 100%.

There are so many reasons why I am thankful for Shaklee, but today, those are my top four.

sweets

As I sat down this morning with my children to read our school books, I was surprised by how many poems we read today.

I thought it fitting, considering today is Poetry Wednesday. First, we read Psalm 100 and tried to create our own tune (rather unsuccessfully, I'll add. I guess the kids are worn out after having friends over for a couple of days.)

Then I read the younger two a Robert Louis Stevenson poem, and Lydia read from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. In the middle of reading she paused, looked up and said, "Hey Mom, do you realize this book is written as one long poem?"

So smart, that one.

And finally, I read to the older two out of our poetry book, which I have quoted several times already in the past few months. I am going to quote from all the small poems and fourteen more by Valerie Worth again, because I enjoyed this poem best of all the poems we read this morning.

My hope is, that by quoting this poem, I will somehow manage to destroy the sweets monster which has been raging in me this past week. (Ya, right!)

sweets
Here
Is a list
Of likely
Words
To taste:

Peppermint,
Cinnamon,
Strawberry,
Licorice,
Lime:

Strange
How they manage
To flavor
The paper
Page.

enjoy more poetry, contribute your own, by clicking here.
the lovely picture of peppermint is courtesy of flickr

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bmb/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Front Door Friday

Fridays is usually our day off school. However, because Glen had Monday off for President's Day, and because we were traveling, we had schoolwork to finish today. That threw off my schedule - so I almost completely forgot about taking a picture out my front door.

If I had remembered earlier, I could have taken a picture of the children building a snowman by our driveway, or sledding down the little hill next to the road, while their mom said good-bye to me and tried to herd them into their van.

If I had remembered earlier, I could have taken a picture of my children sledding down the bigger hill in our backyard. (Finally! Of course they decide they must sled when half the snow has already melted.)

I remembered now, and am documenting the end of the second sunny day in a row this week. It's funny how I count sunny days now that I've returned north from the land of sunshine, otherwise known as Florida.

I spent eight sunny years in Florida, where I counted cloudy days because our a/c didn't run as much and they gave us a relief from the relentless sun. Plus, they didn't come very often, and rarely more than two days in a row.

Now, I rejoice when we see the sun two days in a row, giving us a break from the relentless clouds which hover over Illinois nearly all winter long. Those sunny days don't come often and rarely more than two days in a row.

Calling Out Your Name

When I was contemplating joining the "Poetry Wednesday" bloggers, I was very concerned that I would not be able to find enough poetry that I enjoyed enough to share. I am not completely enraptured with poetry, and I doubt I ever will be.

However, I felt I needed to stretch myself a bit. And finding a poem to share each week would certainly be stretching. Still I hesitated.

Until I remembered that music is poetry. Poetry combined with notes and rhythms. I realized I would have plenty of poetry to share, even when I don't have time to find a poem for the week.

That's when I started participating in Poetry Wednesday. It has been stretching - and enjoyable.

Today, I share with you the poetry that makes up part of the lyrics to one of my favorite songs from Rich Mullins - an artist who's work accompanied me through my high school, college, and young adult years.

Calling Out Your Name

Well, the moon moved past Nebraska and
spilled laughter on them
cold Dakota Hills
And angels danced on Jacob's stairs...
There is this silence in the Badlands and over
Kansas the whole
universe was stilled
By the whisper of a prayer...
And the single hawk bursts into flight and in the
east the whole
horizon is in flames

I feel the thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

I can feel the earth tremble beneath the rumbling
of the buffalo hooves
And the fury in the pheasant's wings...
It tells me the Lord is in His temple and there is
still faith that can make the mountains move
And a love that can make the heavens ring...
Where the sacred rivers meet beneath the
shadow of the Keeper of the plains

I feel the thunder in the sky
I feel the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

I know this thirst will not last long, that it will
soon drown in the song not sung in vain

I feel the thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And with the prairies I am calling out
Your Name

Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop

I admit it, I’m a Monk fan. I think that whoever thought up the idea of putting TV series on DVD was a genius. Otherwise, I would never have been able to enjoy watching Monk.

I was a bit taken aback when I spotted a book at the library with Adrian Monk on the cover. I thought, “Really?” but couldn’t help picking it up.

And oh, did I enjoy it! If you’re a fan of Monk, you’ll like Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop. It’s no work of literary greatness, but its fun.

I can just hear some of the dialogue between Stotlemeyer, Disher, Monk and Natalie – which makes sense since it’s written by Lee Goldberg, one of the writers for the TV series.

I laughed so hard when Mr. Monk made the find of his life – a Diaper Genie. Monk fans will appreciate his obsession.

Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop is a great read for vacation, a good laugh, or just an escape from real life.

Front Door Fridays

For various reasons, I am up early this morning even after a late night last night. I thought about waiting until a bit later to snap my Front Door Friday picture, but decided to catch the pre-dawn, chilly morning outside my front door.

We had about a foot of snow this week - I was thrilled, because I hate seeing patches of grass between snow drifts in the middle of winter. Those patches make me think spring... and we are far, far from that.

The day after the snow, I opened my living room curtains to a thick white blanket of snow, marred only by the prints of deer as they meandered through my yard at some point in the night.

It was beautiful.

The Flotz

My very dear friend, Mrs. Mionske, gave my family a book several weeks ago. She gave it to me after she had read it, and had marked her favorite poems with sticky notes, bulletins, e-mail messages or business cards.

I love getting books like that. I, of course, immediately sat down and read all her favorites. My oldest then claimed the book and read it cover to cover, in order. (Just what I would have done at his age.) Fortunately, he did have the sense to leave all the bookmarks in place.

I just read my sister-in-law's blog, and discovered that her poetry-friend had suggested a theme for today - love - with it being Valentine's Day and all. Well, this poem doesn't exactly fit the theme. But I will force this square peg in the round hole by saying:

I love getting hand-me-down books from Mrs. Mionske... and I love that we have been friends since I was in junior high. (Thus the Mrs. part. She keeps telling me to call her Jean, but I just can't.) She sought me out because my name was in every single church library book that she checked out. She thought we must be kindred spirits. And we are - bless her! I love the fact that we've remained friends for so long, and that one of my best friends is old enough to be my (very young) grandmother. Hugs to you Mrs. Mionske!

The Flotz
by Jack Prelutsky

I am the Flotz, I gobble dots,
indeed, I gobble lots and lots,
every dot I ever see
is bound to be a bite for me.
I often munch on myriads
of sweet, abundant periods,
I nibble hyphens, and with ease
chew succulent apostrophes.

From time to time, I turn my gaze
to little dotted "i's" and "j's,"
and if I chance upon a dash,
I soon dispatch it with panache.
I chomp on commas half the day,
quotation marks are rarer prey,
a semicolon's quite a treat,
while polka dots are joys to eat.

When I confront a dotted line,
my tongue flicks out, those dots are mine,
Morse code becomes a feast, and yes,
I've snacked upon an S.O.S.
For I'm the Flotz, who gobbles dots,
I gobble them in pails and pots,
And you'll not like my brief embrace
if you have freckles on your face.

You may love other poetry selections. Check them out here.

(And, in case you are wondering, I am happily married to a wonderful man who loves humor more than sappy sentiments - Love you!)

Super Bowl Celebration

I am quite amused at the anticipation my children feel for Super Bowl Sunday. I remember dreading it as a child - forced to watch a football game because there was nothing else on TV. The only time I got excited about football was the year the Chicago Bears won the Super Bowl. That was the year I finally understood the term "first down."

Our Super Bowl Tradition (yes, with a capital T) started several years ago, Glen could tell you the exact year, when the Chicago Bears played the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl. Glen grew up in Indiana, but rooting for the Bears, so the competition between his two favorite teams created much angst in our house.

"Which team will I root for?" he asked the children time and time again.

This, of course, intrigued them, so I decided to put on a Super Bowl spread and we would watch the game together. And, shock of all shocks, we would eat in the living room (a very rare treat, deserving of italics).

Since that game, it has become our annual tradition. The children were counting down the days until Super Bowl Sunday, their excitement increased by the fact one of Daddy's favorite teams, the Indianapolis Colts, was playing in the game.

So yesterday, I made my Ro-Tel cheese dip, ham & cheese sandwiches, put out the trail mix, chex mix, and soft pretzels and we feasted in front of the TV. Anna even generously contributed a bag of Skittles a friend had given her at church that morning.

It's a family tradition we enjoyed immensely - even though the Colts did end up losing. Glen was the only one really disappointed, I think. The kids were more disappointed that there wasn't any cheese dip leftover.

Front Door Fridays

Here are my girls, running in the front door after an afternoon hanging out with Papa and Nana at the church. (The boys were there too - just didn't run in the door at the same time.)

A couple of weeks ago, I asked Mom if she could take my kids for an afternoon during the week so I could have time to study. No - not for school, but for a Bible study I'm writing for the women in our church.

She generously said yes, but wasn't feeling well on Tuesday, so we postponed this week's afternoon until today.

The kids report they had a great time - playing soccer with Papa, 'bowling' in the gym, and I think, maybe, practicing dribbling and shooting a basketball.

Meanwhile, I had a quiet house in which to study a really evil person... Jezebel. Hm, I think this Bible study is going to be ... well ... interesting. (tease, tease!)

Happy Friday!

Smart

We've recently started reading a book about which I have heard very good things. It's called Whatever Happened to Penny Candy? by Richard J Maybury. If you're a part of the homeschooling world, you've probably heard of it or read it. If you're not, then you may not have.

We're only on Chapter 7, and already I think this book should be required reading for every American - especially the politicians. I took economics courses in college, in which I scored very well, but which never answered that question - what did happen to penny candy? I've pondered that question since reading about penny candy in Laura Ingalls Wilder's books.

Anyway, Maybury's book is very easy to read, and even my 4th-grader is getting familiar with terms like inflation, recession, deflation, depression, among others. We've also learned where the dollar came from. Quite interesting.

So, all that to bring me to today's poem. At the beginning of Whatever Happened to Penny Candy?, Maybury quotes one of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems. It always makes me laugh, and my older two and I had a good laugh over it again last week when we started the book.

Smart
My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more than one!

And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes - I guess he don't know
That three is more than two!

Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!

And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!

And then I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head -
Too proud of me to speak!

You can find more poetry selections here.

Front Door Fridays

This morning my friend Michele took my four children to see a play at the Raue Performing Arts Center in Crystal Lake. In return, I watch her youngest, Dylan. We've been doing this a couple of times a year for the past two or three years, and in that time, Dylan and I have become buds.

Last year, Isaac stayed with us because he had to go to kindergarten. He and Dylan had a great time playing until the bus came. So when I told Isaac the plans this morning, he said to me, "I'd much rather stay here and play with Dylan than go to a play."

He did go to the play, and right now Dylan is digging through the boys' room, seeing what he can find - an accordian, the guitar, a princess wand that belongs to the girls. "What's this doing in Isaac's room?" he just asked me.

Good question, bud.

Good-bye, Good-bye to everything!

The wonderful thing about having a toddler in my house once a week are the delightful things she says and does when she's here.

Kaylee is constantly keeping us in stitches. (One of her favorite past times is to sing to herself and dance in front of the full-length mirror in the girls' room- too funny!)

Yesterday, she found me in the kitchen and said, "Hi, Shel!" I picked her up, and said, "Hi, Kaylee!" She looked at me very seriously, then put out her tiny hand and stroked my hair and said, "Pretty hair."

How sweet is that? It's so fun to see the world through her eyes, and remember what my children were like at that stage.

One thing every toddler loves to do is say "Good-bye" to everything and everyone, so when I read this poem from A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson yesterday to my two younger children, I thought immediately of Kaylee, and my own children at her age.

The toddler stage is exhausting - I remember it well, having had four children in five years. My aunt told me to enjoy the moments because they grow up so quickly. And it's so true! When Kaylee is here, I'm amazed at how grown-up my own children are, and like every mother, wonder "Where has the time gone?"

Farewell to the Farm

The coach is at the door at last;
The eager children, mounting fast
And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

To house and garden, field and lawn,
The meadow-gates we swang upon,
To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Ad fare you well for evermore,
O ladder at the hayloft door,
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
The trees and houses smaller grow;
Last, round the woody turn we swing:
Good-bye, good-bye to everything!

Percy Jackson & The Olympians

My nephew is obsessed with the “Percy Jackson & the Olympians” series. He has read them all, and has sparked my son’s interest in reading these books. I like to know what my kids are reading, so when The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan came in at the library, I grabbed it to read it first. (Mean, I know, but Nathaniel had schoolwork to do!)

I found it a little difficult to get into the book. There were so many unexplained events, so many questions that I thought took a long time to get answered. But, like the Alex Rider series, these books are action-packed.

Unlike Alex Rider, Percy Jackson is fantasy, in case you didn’t figure that out from the title of the series. The series is based on the idea that the Greek gods were real, are still alive and working today, and still running around messing around with humans and having children who are demigods, or half-bloods, or heroes (used interchangeably in the book).

Percy has to figure out how to live in the ‘real’ world while fighting monsters from the mythical world. He has some good friends, mentors and a magical pen, which turns into a sword he can use to fight the monsters. In The Lightning Thief, Percy is required to go on a quest, fighting all sorts of monsters, gods, and traps along the way.

Nathaniel told me this morning, “That book is really scary.” And it is, so I would not recommend it for grade-school children – especially those who are afraid that monsters live in their closets or under their bed.

But for boys old enough to handle the action, The Lightning Thief will capture, and hold, their attention and imagination. Nathaniel can't wait to read the rest of the series... especially since he's already done with the Alex Rider books.

Jumping through Fires

Jumping through Fires is an interesting title, isn’t it? The subtitle makes it even more interesting: The Gripping Story of One Man’s Escape from Revolution to Redemption. Then, lower on the cover, under the author’s name (David Nasser), is written: An Iranian Exile and Former Muslim.

Well, how on earth could I not grab this book off the library shelf? I had to.

Nasser is a compelling author, telling the story of his family’s escape from the Iranian Revolution in the late 1970’s. It’s a scary story,especially since it's told from the perspective of a nine-year-old boy. He then tells of the difficulties of adjusting to American life - the story of Iranian immigrants coming to America at the worst possible moment.

This book is honest and forthright. Nasser tells us not only about the difficulties, the moves, the inability to fit in at school, but also about his mistakes, his choices, and the consequences of those choices.

It’s the story of his journey of faith, of alienating his parents, of doing really stupid things and learning from his mistakes. It’s the story of falling in love with an American girl, of carefully rebuilding a relationship with his parents.

It sounds rather unexciting when I write about it. But in Nasser’s words, it’s worth reading.

The Boy from Baby House 10

The Boy from Baby House 10 by Alan Philips and John Lahutsky is a captivating read. Once I started reading it, I could hardly put it down. I think the only thing that kept me from crying throughout the entire book was its subtitle, From the Nightmare of a Russian Orphanage to a New Life in America. I knew it had a happy ending. But many times in the book, I wondered HOW?

It's the story of John Lahutsky (his American name), and the people in his life who fought for him to have a life. We first meet Vanya when he is four years old and in a Russian orphanage. The situation is horrifying – it’s amazing that Vanya can even speak because the women who care for him hardly interact with him. I cannot help but admire Vanya’s unquenchable spirit which fights against all odds to be noticed, to interact with adults and children around him.

It’s this spirit which attracts the attention of some adults from outside the baby house, women who work tirelessly to rescue him from his classification as an “imbecile” because of his slight physical disabilities. His journey is a long one, and includes a horrifying, though mercifully short, stay in an adult mental asylum when he was six.

As John says in the Preface, “I am told I may be the only child to have survived the worst type of institution n the Russian children’s gulag and gone on to live a normal life in America. These institutions created by Stalin continue to devour children to this day.” (emphasis mine)

It is heartbreaking, this devouring of children. As you read this story, you’ll agree that is the only way to describe it. The people who fought the Russian bureaucracy on Vanya's behalf are heroes in my mind.

I was struck by something Philips wrote about halfway through the book, and its implication. “This was the monstrous logic of the Soviet state childcare system. The Communists had downgraded the family, decreeing that the state should take over the care of children who were destined never to grow into able-bodies workers, which in reality meant hiding them away and depriving them of contact with their families, education, and medical treatment.” (emphasis mine)

This is the logical conclusion of current theory that states parents are not qualified to parent their children. The logical conclusion that child-rearing is better left to “professionals.”

The Boy from Baby House 10 is a powerful testament that such thinking is destructive – it destroys parents, siblings, and children... thereby destroying society.

Front Door Friday

Today, as I thought about what was going on in my life that was photo-worthy, I couldn't think of much. Then my friend Dawn, and her two children, Ezra & Lucy, walked through the door.

(They actually came through the garage door instead of the front door, but details like that don't really matter, right?)

Dawn and Ezra and Lucy come to my house almost every week, usually on Fridays. I used to take my crew to her house regularly, but since I am car-less (another story for another post), Dawn comes to me now. Ezra and Isaac play, the girls keep Lucy sort-of occupied and Dawn and I have a cup of tea, talk together and pray together (in between the constant interruptions of six children).

It's a highlight of my week!

rags

I wish I had a picture of my parent's "rag bucket" to go along with today's poem. It was a tall, narrow, semi-translucent plastic barrel stuffed full with old t-shirts, underwear and other scraps of clothing which had outlived their usefulness as coverings for our bodies. It is still, I believe, stored in my dad's basement workshop. When we made big messes as children, we were sent to fetch a rag to clean it up.

It was always a bit scary as a child. I would run barefoot into the cold, sparse room of my dad's, with it's rough concrete floor and single light bulb the switch turned on. The sub-pump is in that room, and sometimes it would kick on when I was there searching for a rag quick! and scare the beejeebers out of me.

I'm reading this poem by Valerie Worth tomorrow to my older two children in school. I'm amazed at her ability to create art based on little things we see or use every day without even thinking about it. Who knew that just by reading a few poems out loud to my children every week for school I could develop an appreciation for poetry? Sonlight did - and I'm grateful that they included all the small poems and fourteen more in their Core 5 curriculum.

rags
Stuffed away into
An old pillowcase,

Dragged forth again
In crumpled clods,

Torn to wash windows
Or tie up tomato plants,

Thrown out at last -
Poor sad gray wads

That once were faithful
Flannel pajamas,

Favorite pink-
Flowered underpants.

Click here to read other poetry selections and include one of your own.

Front Door Friday

The veiw of my front door this week includes my oldest son, anxiously awaiting his ride to church for his weekend with his best buds. A weekend of boys, snow, camp, no sleep...

Certainly a weekend to remember!

The Noticer

The cover of Andy Andrews' book, The Noticer: Sometimes, all a person needs is a little perspective, has a quote from Nancy Lopez, LPGA Hall of Famer. She says, "This is the best book I have ever read in my life."

That's high praise for this little book. One with which I cannot agree.

Don't get me wrong, The Noticer is interesting. And the message about perspective is important. However, I would compare it to an aerial view of a landscape. An interesting view, but you miss a lot of details.

The Noticer is a parable told somewhat in first person about a man who shows up, talks to people about their lives to give them some perspective on their seemingly impossible problems. One conversation with Jones changes their lives forever.

One chapter I read was a quick overview, with a few changes, of Dr. Gary Chapman's book The Five Love Languages. Another focused on taking control of your thoughts, while another focused on being thankful.

Each chapter covered a different difficulty, with a very quick lesson on perspective and a few practical tips on how to apply that lesson. It's very easy to read, and very easy to forget.

Overall, The Noticer is worth reading. It will give you some ideas for seeing your life from a different perspective. However, you'll need to read some other books to deal with issues in depth if you want to make that change permanent.

door

I cannot believe I've been thinking about Poetry Wednesday all week - which poem would I choose? Can I find one I like in our school poetry books? Should I try to be super-poetry-woman and actually check out a book of poems from the library?

Then, I nearly forgot to post my poem today!

(In case you're wondering, I will never, ever claim the title "super-poetry-woman" although I might, eventually, actually check a poetry book out from the library. And, I did find a poem I like from our school poetry books. So here it is:)

door
My grandmother's
Glass front door
Held a fancy pattern
Of panes, their
Heavy edges cut
On a slant: when
Sun shone through,
They scattered
Some eighty little
Flakes of rainbows
Into the room,
Walking the walls,
Glowing like fallen
Flowers on the floor;
Why don't they
Make front doors that
Way any more?

This poem expresses best why I chose the front door I did when we replaced our front door. I love the fallen flowers on my floor when the sun shines in... but I couldn't capture them in a picture.

I love my front door. It's the simple things in life, really.

Click here to read other selections for poetry Wednesday and to add your own selection.

Stormbreaker

My oldest son brought me Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz after a recent library trip.

"Mom," he said. "Would you please read this book and let me know if it's OK for me to read?"

I greatly appreciated his asking.

And honestly, I enjoyed the book.

Basically, Stormbreaker is James Bond for preteen and teenage boys... without all the swearing and sex.

It's rather unbelievable, but I think that's what makes it so fun. What 14-year-old boy wouldn't love to be able to train as a spy, hunt down the bad guy, and parachute out of a plane in order to save the day?

Alex Rider, the main character, makes it a point to try to avoid killing anyone. However, plenty of people around him are killed, including his only living relative, and his life is in danger frequently. If you have a child sensitive to being left alone or violence, then this book is not for him.

I told my son, who's 11, that he would enjoy reading it, but asked that he not share it with his little sister. She just turned 10, but I don't think she's quite ready for the action in this book.

He ended up reading it in one day - on a long car ride over the holiday. What did he think of it?

"I liked Stormbreaker because of the gadgets. Those are pretty cool," Nathaniel told me. "The story has good action, excitement and lots of suspense. I would definitely recommend it to other boys."

Since then, he has quickly read through the other Alex Rider mysteries - I think there are six in all. He tells me that in a couple of them, there are some swear words. If that concerns or offends you, you might want to pre-read them for your boys.

have a little faith: a true story

My sister-in-law told me that her book club was reading have a little faith by Mitch Albom, of Tuesdays with Morrie fame. I have to admit that I haven't read Tuesdays (I know I should), but I spotted have a little faith on the library shelf and snatched it up to read it over the holiday.

I have to tell you that I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I appreciate Albom's transparency in his spiritual journey, and the similarities and differences between the two men of faith with whom he interacts are intriguing.

Interestingly, Albom organized the book into seasons of the year - which correspond to the seasons in his friendship with these two men. One is his rabbi, who springs a rather unusual request on him one day. The other is a pastor in a rundown urban church in Detroit. It seems these men would have nothing in common with each other except a relationship with Albom.

You'll have to read the book to find out what else they have in common.

I can't help but mention that Albom writes from the post-modern viewpoint of "I'm OK, you're OK" - basically that as long as you have faith and quit running from God, then you'll find enrichment and fulfillment. Personally, I believe there is an absolute truth to which we will all be held accountable.

Overall, have a little faith is a heart-warming story worth reading.

Front Door Friday

Here is what's happening outside my front door this Friday. Well, through my front door, because I decided that it was too cold to actually open my front door. As you can see - lots and lots and lots of snow.

The children are loving it - Fridays are our 'no-school' days, so they've been in and out all day, sledding with various friends who have come over. Fortunately, our house has a short, but steep hill in the backyard which provides hours of fun for them without requiring me to actually go outside myself. Yes, I love to look at snow. I don't even mind shoveling it. But I don't have the gear, or inclination, to actually play in it.

I will never claim the title "Fun Mommy," but I'm OK with that. (grin)

Happy Friday!

The House of Sixty Fathers

Meindert Dejong is probably one of the best children's literature authors you may have never heard of. I had never heard of him before I started using Sonlight's homeschooling curriculum.

Over the past few years, we have read Wheel on the School, Shadrach, and Along Came a Dog in school, so when I saw this year included a Meindert Dejong book, I was excited.

The House of Sixty Fathers is an excellent book. It's set in China during World War II and the Japanese Invasion of China. The back of my copy says it's for children ages 10-14, and I would agree with that.

The main character, Tien Po, is separated from his parents during the war. This book is about his journey to find them and the unexpected help he gives and receives along the way. It is set during a war, so Tien Po witnesses some awful things younger children may not be ready to process.

We finished reading The House of Sixty Fathers this morning. Actually, Anna finished reading it because I couldn't. They thought I couldn't read because I was laughing too hard. Au contraire! I was crying too hard! But I won't tell you why and ruin the ending.

Throughout the entire book, we were trying to figure out why it was called The House of Sixty Fathers. We ventured many guesses, but didn't discover the answer until nearly the last chapter - and then it all made sense.

This is a great book to read aloud to your children if they are 10 or older, unless your child is especially sensitive to emotional distress of separation and fear. My older children and I really enjoyed it.

The Gate of the Year

I feel like I've begun this year in a blur... between recovering from a big holiday trip, trying to get back into a routine, which was almost immediately broken by a medical procedure yesterday from which I'm still recovering, and then realizing I really, honestly, truly did commit to stepping way outside my comfort zone this year when all I really want to do is hibernate for the winter....

Did you follow all that? It's OK, I didn't either. However, I find much to relate to in this week's poem.


The Gate of the Year
M. Louise Haskins

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
'Give me a light, that I may tread safely into the unknown!'
And he replied:
'Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.'

So, I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night
And He led me toward the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

Here are other selections for Poetry Wednesday, or to post one of your own.

How to Be a Hepburn in a Hilton World

I was intrigued by the title of this little book How to Be a Hepburn in a Hilton World: The Art of Living with Style, Class, and Grace by Jordan Christy. I wasn't sure that anyone could write an entire book on the subject, but I was wrong.

I'm certainly not the target audience for this little book. It was written more for teens and twenty-somethings. However, I did enjoy it. Christy does a great job of giving good reasons for taking care of yourself without buying into the current culture obsession with thin and tiny. She also makes a great case for covering up - choosing clothes that leave something to the imagination instead of bearing all.

Christy covers all aspect of life - dress & style, words, working hard, being a nice person, how to interact with boys, even hair and makeup. She includes little quizzes in several chapters to help readers figure out their style, what colors look best on them, among other things. She offers many practical tips and sound reasoning behind her recommendations.

I enjoyed reading this book, and will seriously consider reading it with my daughters when they get older.