Christmas

Christmas this year--at least the beginning of it--has felt over-shadowed. I know that my feelings don't matter at all in relation to the marking of the Nativity of Christ and that most important aspect of the holiday was the highlight. Because of the weather, very few people made it to Liturgy so that only David and I served at the altar. I loved serving with him and he enjoyed the additional responsibility. The weather was a blessing in other ways as well. I love snow and we got to go sledding--Simon's first time. Snow is a pleasant challenge and always creates memories, like getting stuck in grandpa's driveway having Uncle Paul tow me out. But for all the fun and beauty, the weather definitely overshadowed the larger family gatherings and celebrating of the feast.

Poor planning was another dark cloud. It is the same complaint every year with me--I hate spending the weeks prior to Christmas in a stressed rush to finish everything. The things that I enjoy most--cooking and wrapping gifts--I do quickly at the last minute. I have already outlined a timeline for completing the Next-Christmas Project. I begins basically now and is complete by the beginning of Advent so that all I have left is cooking and wrapping so that I may give those activities the time they deserve and really enjoy them. I was thinking about what this means--a year-long preparation for Christmas. Hopefully, if I do it right, it will mean that I am giving the appropriate amount of attention to it at any given time rather than having to think about it 24-7 during the Advent season, which is better spent in a more reflective preparation. It will also spread out my focus on making/buying things for others and anything that focuses me on others is good. It is possible that an easy, well-paced year-long preparation for Christmas will be very edifying.

Of course, none of this matters a whit to the boys. I remember back when each of them was very young--around their first or second Christmases or birthdays, when they would open a present and be so absorbed by it that we would have to remind them that there is another present to open. Reluctantly, they would put down the first to open the second and then be absorbed by that. Not now. Even gifts that they absolutely love are rapidly dropped in favor of the next box, creating a blizzard of paper, ribbons, and Scotch Tape in the house that was as intense as the one outside. Their enjoyment this year was increased by the snow as well as by the gifts that they gave. We spent some time making low-relief plaster casts of their hands as a couple of gifts. We also spent quality time one afternoon picking out gifts from each of us to Jaime. Jaime did the same getting them presents for me. So they were just as excited when other people were opening their presents.

A few family members got them Barnes and Noble gift cards, which we went out and spent last night. Part of me wanted to exert some control over what they got, but I resisted. I am pretty happy with the haul. Simon got a book featuring anthropomorphic bulldozers, another featuring Cars characters, a stuffed "Max" from Where the Wild Things Are, and a kit that contains a rocket powered by baking soda and vinegar. David got a book featuring Batman, a kit about the solar system that includes models of the planets and a mini-cosmosphere, and a book of knock, knock jokes. He is trying to learn how to tell a joke. Since I used the word "learn" in the previous sentence, and because I'll make him read the jokes himself, I am considering it homeschool material.

So nothing overshadowed Christmas for them. The weather meant we had our service early in the evening so they both got to enjoy it--Simon had his mom to himself and David got to serve. The snow meant all kinds of fun. They weren't rushed about anything. They had fun making and buying presents. And, of course, they had fun receiving them.

Christ is Risen!

Brothers

"What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love."
- Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

I didn't grow up with brothers. One of my brothers died as a toddler and I hope intercedes for me before Our Heavenly Father. The other is quite a bit younger than me and has always lived in another town. I consider it a flaw in my character that I did not develop closer relationship with him. I have often envied the camaraderie of men who grew up together--brothers that I have seen in my extended family, books, and movies. Adult brothers often seem to interact within a constant running in joke, a funny, brave, and moving story about their lives together. Of course, sometimes that story is not funny and many brothers have tragic and conflicted relationships. Either way, the facets and flaws of masculinity seem to be amplified when brothers are together--stimulated by a lifetime of continuous reinforcement.

I was moved to reflect on this relationship when I saw this beautiful photograph of a groom with his two older brothers. The one on the right is friend of mine. Something about the groom's posture reminds of how I felt just before my own wedding. When I saw this photo, my first thought was about my own three sons. God willing, they will someday be gathered like this. They will posture, tease, horse around, recite old jokes and stories, allude to secrets kept between themselves. They will support each other, take council with each other and love each other. God willing they will be comrades in arms, teammates, shipmates, soul-mates. God willing, God willing, God willing. This is my prayer for them, that they will always be brothers.

I had a farm in Africa

Tomorrow, David and I leave for Wichita for the 2009 Parish Life Conference of the Region of Ambiguous Status formerly known as the Diocese of Wichita and Mid-America. I'll spend my day doing grown up things, like listening to annual reports, while David goes to the Zoo. He was feeling nervous about it because he thinks that he is afraid of crowds of people he does not know. Nevermind that you can give him scads of examples where he OWNS crowds of people he doesn't know. I finally pointed out to him that he is just feeling nervous--that his chest is a bit tight and he has a weird feeling in his stomach, but that is not the same thing as fear. I told him that the game is to see how long it takes for that feeling to go away. He was certain it would take ten years. I estimate 10-15 minutes. Plus, I told him he gets to ride a bus, which cheered him right up.

Jaime and Simon, meanwhile are going to Kansas City to drop in on Friends.

Then, David and Head back here Friday night, hook up Simon and the Esteses and head to the Next Annual Smoky Hill River Festival.

I am not taking a computer with me, so beyond what I can Tweet, I will not be updating. I know, what are you going to do without daily updates, right? It'll be like the bad ol' days earlier this week. Instead I am taking a book to pass the down times. The Topeka and Shawnee County Public Library mailed me a copy of "Out of Africa." Apparently, I requested it. I don't recall doing that. But they sent it to me right on the heals of a notice that I have about 15 overdue items. Enabling, that is all I can say.

Also, my camera is broken, so I won't be documenting anything that way, either.

Your mother drove to Ohio

Thursday morning, pre-dawn, David, Simon, Skylar, Brooke, Isabelle, and I set off on a 13-hour road trip in Grandpa's minivan. When we returned Sunday night, we had completed the longest stretch of road travel without vomit in David and Simon's life.--26 hours plus the time we spent driving around our destination. It was memorable for other reasons as well. For instance, I think we set a record for "your mother" jokes. As in "Your mother set a record for 'your mother' jokes."

The goal of the trip was of course cousin Andrea's wedding. Frankly, I was dreading this trip and in the days leading up to it I regretted having committed. It was a lot of money, a lot of time off and a lot of sitting in car seats not barfing for the boys. The boys don't have a lot of experience with sitting still in pews during church. One of the great advantages of a pew-free church is that there is a little more room for youngins and their energy. And if they are just too much to bear in our church, they can go down stairs and chill. I was concerned that I was traveling to Ohio to stand outside in the hallway of the building where my cousin was gettin' hitched babysitting two boys exhausted from too much travel.

Well, my fears were unfounded. The boys handled themselves well--mostly. There was one point in the service where a deacon was talking without a microphone and everyone was kind of straining to hear him. At this point Simon announced that he had to poop in case anyone in the room was interested--no one seemed to be. Oh and when the groomsmen were all lined up at the front, Simon had to count them for everyone. Otherwise, they were great.

The ceremony was lovely, I should say that the many ceremonies of the day were lovely and moving. A wedding day is filled with official and unofficial formalities, from who sits where, to the vows, to speeches, to that point when the children get to finally run around the reception hall and occasionally dance with the adults. I found myself choked up many times. Andrea married a hansom Lieutenant in the Air Force and all the men standing up for him were Air Force, Navy, and Army, all in dress uniform--quiet, precise, and noble. The ceremony was a generally traditional Western Christian affair conducted with belief and affirmation. The saber arch, the car vandalized with shoe polish, the embarrassing uncle, the single young women eying the single young soldiers--as I watched it all I was reminded of this previously posted snippet

Because it is not the rituals we honor
but our trust in what they signify, these rites
that honor us as witnesses — whether to watch
lovers swear loyalty in a careless world
or a newborn washed with water and oil

But don't take my word for it. Here is what the boys have to say:

Yesterday, part 1--Summer, sickness, distant relatives

David's sense of time and grammar has evolved to understand the past tense in terms of "yesterday" and "last week." "Yesterday" is anything that happened in the memorable past, such as seeing "Horton Hears a Who" when it came out. "Last week is anything that happened before a time he can remember; his infancy and my childhood both took place last week. While is makes for some difficult conversation, it does make belated blogging better. Rather than feeling guilty about not having blogged about anything that happened this month, I can simply assert that anything blogworthy happened "yesterday."

"Yesterday" summer finally really began. June has been a gorgeous, beautiful month with a lovely mix if mild days, mildly hot days, and thunderstorms (worse for parts west of us). Typically, the starting event for our summer is the Smoky Hill River Festival in Salina. This year's was particularly nice. Everyone was able to attend, the weather was lovely and Jaime and I figured out a way to rig our finances so that we could do our Christmas shopping. Since the festival is Father's day weekend, that means we knocked out two holidays in one weekend.

David followed up by getting sick. It began on a Tuesday night with a sore throat at bedtime and progressed to a fever and continuous vomiting throughout the night. Wednesday afternoon he saw a doctor and Wednesday night, after 36 hours without food or drink, he went to the hospital for fluids. He'll describe this to you in detail. "Yesterday, I went to the hospital and the poked a hole in my arm and purple blood came out. I didn't like it." He has been obsessed lately with the color of his blood, observing that it is blue in his veins but red when it gets out, so it was an opportune time to have blood drawn and an IV inserted. We never did determine conclusively what he was sick with. He was neg. for strep so it was probably a virus. He still had a fever at bedtime that Friday night. I haven't seen him that miserably sick since his first birthday. Because of it, we skipped my company picnic on the 21st, which I had been looking forward to for about 6 months. Instead we had a lazy Saturday together.

June also saw visits from several relatives. Firstly, my aunt Marla, her son, Shawn, and his wife, Janelle, came to visit. I have never met Janelle and the last time Shawn was back, Jaime was still pregnant with Simon. Simon was typically shy around them at first but eventually warmed. Since they left, every time we go to grandpa's (which is where Simon saw them), Simon says "Shawn? Shawn?" This was actually Marla's second recent visit. She was here in May with her youngest, Patricia with whom Simon also took his time falling in love. I don't have any photos of either of these visits, but the visitors do. Maybe I can get some from them eventually.

More recently, uncle Grant visited from Seattle with similar results. Initial shyness followed by obsessive longing. They got go to the Kansas City Zoo where Ducks were apparently the highlight. Grant very self-consciously cultivated the role of cool uncle for himself, which both he and David enjoyed immensely.

a perfect start to summer

What a blissful evening. Not one I would have expected. After a Saturday of lousy weather and fighting with my eldest, and a Sunday afternoon of discussing finances with my fellow parishioners, I would not have expected perfect evening of family gardening delight.

I went to the local garden store on Saturday to get plants. It was not successful. Winter is not going down without a fight around here and it was cold and windy Saturday morning. David and Simon were both ready for lunch and a rest and when I asked an employee for assistance with getting a garden started, I got the same deer-in-the-headlights look that you get from employees at car rental offices when you ask to rent a car: "Do we do that?"

I tried to convey to her in words and tone of voice as well as by the look on my face that I was a Project. A newbie for her to take under her wing, guide, and nurture. But it was not happening. On a better day, I would have closed my eyes and grabbed plants at random, but not on that day. I needed to spend some time around the plants with a guide and without my kids. And my mom is still on the mend.

This evening, quite unexpectedly, it happened. Dad was in town for the celebration of his father's 80th birthday (more on that later). Afterwards, Skylar took the boys and dad and I headed off to the nursery Dillons for plants. He knows all this great stuff about gardening that he apparently learned from his grandpa. So, there we were, dad and I kickin' around in the the plant tent in the Dillons parking lot. Not exactly picturesque, but I'll take what I can get.

Then we headed over to Skylar's for a wiener roast and diggin'. A real garden party. Mom and Alex came and dad, Brooke, Skylar, Isabel, David, Simon, and I all got dirty. It was great fun and I learned tons. I am confident that we are going to have a lovely garden with boatloads of tomatoes. I'll email you some.

Look! Pictures!



Later, tomato fans.

me grow real good someday

Humans have been tilling the ground and tending to plants for at least 10,000 years. 99% of all people who have ever lived have grown some, if not most, of their own food. But here I stand, in front of a plot of freshly-tilled earth, with a fresh green seedling in my hand (well, on the counter), and have no clue what to do next. Shouldn't I have some sort of genetic memory here? I have never been interested in gardening but I have always assumed that I would develop the interest some day. I assumed something would prompt me to make it a priority. That something is Michael Pollan's book In Defense of Food, an Eaters Manifesto. It provided me the kick-in-the-pants to learn to plant plants. Coinsidentally, Skylar and Brooke have wanted to do some digging in the dirt, so we are going at it. I borrowed a friend's tiller and turned up about 180 square feet of yard. We hope to get some plants in soon, just as soon as I learn how to do that. Additionally, I am going to work on developing a shade garden in back of our place.

The first plan was to grow vegetables up at grandpa's farm. While Skylar's place is much more convenient, there is one aspect I regret--no boy's on a farm. When mom and I first went to the farm to plot a plot, David and Simon roamed around the property--even venturing into the unmowed field out in front. Kids need space and they were in their element. I had developed romantic notions of going up the farm regularly to tend to the garden while the boys galavanted through the fields, gathering ticks. Maybe next year.

Mom is recovering from surgery, so Skylar is watching the boys in the afternoon. This has given Simon the oportunity to finally learn Skylar's name, which he recited for half the ride home the other night:

'kylar
'KYLAR!
'kylar?
('kylar)
'kylar

and repeat 100 times.

Finally, he got bored with that and started with his alleluias. Apparently his Spiritual Father has given him a rule to recite 1,000 alleluia's a day.

later farm fans.

Comment on Krista Tippett

A comment I wrote yesterday to Krista Tippett, host of Speaking of Faith.

I first discovered your program when I found your episode "Restoring the Senses, Life Gardening, and Orthodox Easter." I was impressed, and being a father of two, decided to listen to your episode on the Spirituality of Parenting.

I am disappointed. I think that you omitted one of the primary spiritual issues that the vast majority of faithful believers actually have.

Rabbi Sasso offers many good insights. Her understanding of both the need to maintain an open stance with your children's spirituality and her suggestion that we teach our children out of the spiritual tradition in which we were raised, are balanced on the surface. But there is an undertone that seems to lean towards the idea that "spirituality" is exclusively personal, is pretty distant from religion, that all paths are equal, and we should allow our children to find their own way. This view is explicit in the recorded questions from parents that were interspersed through the program. Most, if not all of the questions or comments were "I have found a path for me, how do I make sure my children find their own path for themselves."

I don't think this resonates with the vast majority of religious adherents worldwide. Most faithful believers think that their spiritual and religious tradition is a rich and glorious gift they can give to their children. They also believe that there are spiritual dangers and they have to teach their children about them just as we have to teach them about other dangers. It deeply hurts my son's feelings when I insist he not step of the curb into the street and I try to be loving about the discipline, but I know there is a danger and wrong paths. But I also want to teach him to see danger for himself, understand risk, and govern himself. Likewise, there are spiritual directions that my Faith tradition assures me can lead down dangerous paths.

I think a more common question that most faithful have is "I want my children to see the beauty of our Faith that I see and I want them to maintain our faith and make it their own personally. I know that forcing it down their throat is not the correct way, but I also don't want to give them the impression that their spiritual path is an exclusively personal choice and that all choices are equal. How to maintain that balance?"

I have seen families negotiate this question well, who produced children who love God and have maintained the Faith they were raised with and I have seen families that botch this terribly and whose deeply resentful children bolt as soon as possible. This is most religious parent's single biggest fear.

I think that you failed to really discuss that.

I wouldn't bother to say anything if I didn't feel like both you and Rabbi Sasso are capable of intelligently addressing this question. I respect the quality of your work and the content of this program so far as it went, but this seems like a big hole in the discussion.

Thank you for listening.

treed in colorado

Last week, we drove to Colorado and back. It was a lovely vacation at Jaime's parent's house. The weather was beautiful and it was quite relaxing. David got to spend enormous amounts of time watching movies and playing, which was a welcome respite from his normal grind of playing and watching movies.

If you want a great adventure, head off into the woods with a three-year-old as your guide. David, Hildy (the grandparents' dog), and I went for a walk about one day in some Bureau of Land Management land adjacent to the Oakson's neighborhood. We were trotting down a wide path that serves as something of a road, when, without a word, David turned right and headed into a field of Sage Brush. I followed and Hildy ran up ahead and then returned, ran up, returned, etc. We descended into a gully and picked up a trail through some woods. David chatted and played. I showed him tracks of various animals. At one point he attempted to leave the trail again and plunge into woods whose thickness would only comfortably accommodate a three-year-old. I had to stop him. Eventually the trail looped around and deposited us just down the block from where we began. A paid guide could not have lead us on a more perfect walk. Here it is in Google Maps.

Our whole time in Colorado was sunny and mild. But the whole time, David could see snow capping distant peaks. He wanted nothing more than to throw snowballs. So he was thrilled when, a couple of days later, Grandpa Steve took us up to another wilderness area with proper trees and snow. He would ask me to make a snowball for him and then throw it at me. It was delightful watching him run around like a little boy jump in snow and investigating rocks and stick and playing fetch with Hildy.

At one point in the trip, Jaime and I were sitting onthe porch while David played in the yard. Suddenly he anounced that he was going to climb a tree and disapeared around the house. Jaime asked me, "are you going with him or are we going to take him home in a cast?"
I was skeptical, "he won't get off the ground."

So, we waited for him to return.

And we waited.

And waited.

Finally, I went to investigate.

Of course, no vacation is complete without sickness. Simon had a fever of 104 at one point. But hey, we are old pros at this.

so, who are these boys that we live with nowadays?

So, who are these boys that we live with nowadays?

Well, David begins talking the moment he gets out of bed and stops sometime after he goes to sleep. He still loves cantaloupe, but won't each much more then that. I assume that, generally, he behaves like a three-year-old ought to, but I honestly don't know. He continually alternates between a cooperative, thoughtful, conversational little boy and a howling banshee. He is pretty much potty trained--we have to remind him to go, but he no longer goes to the bathroom anywhere other than the toilet.

While he loves nothing more then Buzz Lightyear and Lightening McQueen, he still has room in his heart for many good books including Where the Wild Things Are, pretty much anything by Dr. Seuss--especially How the Grinch Stole Christmas, anything about Church, and many others. semi-monthly visits to the library are a must.

He is jealous of Simon--more so now than before. But he also wants Simon to be someone with whom he can wrestle and play roughly (this is his primary way of playing) and so he ends up pestering his little brother until the baby screams and a time out is in order. Right now, Grandpa Gib is feeding Simon yogurt and David is loudly doing everything he can to distract them.

I've come to really cherish the few moments that David and I get alone. He is old enough now to be interested in exploring the world and he is delight to converse with on all manner of topics. He loves to run and play and wrestle and hit t-balls. He is turning into a boy and I am surprised how much I am looking forward to teaching him to be a boy.

Simon is tall and lean. Very suddenly, last week, be began babbling almost constantly (except when prompted to) while saying nothing. The only actual words he knows are "hi," "dada," "mama," "Nina." When I come home from work he smiles and says "Hi, dada!" and throws his arms open to me. He can, and will, walk four-or-five steps at a time. He loves exploring everything he can. He spent 15 solid quiet minutes the other day examining the straps on Davids booster seat.

He will eat only yogurt voluntarily. He will eat other baby foods if we put them in a bowl and give him a spoon of his own and then feed him with a second spoon while he also feeds himself. But when he is done, he is DONE and don't question it. He goes from zero to furious in an blink. I do not look forward to his stubborn temper when he is three.

What he still will not eat is real solid food. Anything with more texture than applesauce is of no interest. Until a few weeks ago he would frequently gag on solids. Now, he just sucks on them and spits them out. We are going to have a specialist examine him to see if there is really a problem or if he is just putting it off until he gets something really good.

Climbing is his true love. I put him in his high chair yesterday, walked across the kitchen and looked back to find him on all fours on top of his tray. He climbs up the couch, up the stairs up David's recliner. He can climb the plastic "rock wall" step/ladder toy in Holliday Park. He watches David constantly and imitates him. If David leaves one of his toys laying about and Simon gets a hold of it, he will begin playing with it exactly as David does.

I cherish the few moments alone I get with Simon. He laughs and snuggles and chases. Every so often he will just reach his arms across me and lay his head on my shoulder. Sometimes, while crawling, he will suddenly stop and lay down flat on his tummy with his head turned and his arms outspread.

I also cherish the moments the three of us can just be together playing. I can usually coerce both boys into a cooperative game of rolling a ball from one to the other. Or we'll go for a walk with David on his trike and Simon in the stroller watching David and giggling as he zooms by, a blur of red and feet and energy.

simmons' summer fun

Mom and Alex took some great photos of the kiddos this summer and sent them to me. View them as a set here.

how not to talk to my kids

Please, don't talk to my kids until you have read this.

AFV

Last night we relaxed a bit with the old TV and watched some America's Funniest Home Videos. After dinner we settled in for some Incredibles. Once the movie was over and it was time to extricate the DVD David offered to take it out and Jason had the remote.

If only I had had the camera rolling. Every time David went for the DVD Jason would hit the eject button and make the disk go in and out. At first David was surprised but he quickly started to scold Jason. "You stop that daddy!" he would say with a wag of the finger and the cutest frown in town.

A post doesn't do the scene justice but rest assured we laughed for a long time. I can't wait until Simon gets old enough, maybe then we can submit that footage and score some big $$.

UPDATE: this is Jason. Making the dvd player close just as someone is reaching for is an old joke of mine that just never stops being funny. With David, I realized that one of the funny parts is that when and adult is reaching for the disk, they pull back not wanting to force the issue and break something. So I can exploit this delicate handling to keeping them hooked for a long time. Not so with David. Our little story ends with him simply grabbing the dvd tray as it closed, pulling it back open, and popping the disk out.

Mugging

This morning I felt as if I had not slept for two days so I laid in bed longer than I should have. At 8:30 I woke up to the sound of running water in the bathroom. As David is not a huge fan of cleanliness I jumped out of bed to assess the situation.

Thankfully he was not trying to turn the house into a swimming pool. Instead he was trying to wash rose petal cream off his hands and face. This lovely shade was smeared all over the sink and counter. It was also on the wall leading down to the living room. There the trail gets cold until you get to the love seat where it is delicately smeared on the cushions.

At the scene of the crime is my purse. All contents spread out, money every where, and at the center is one of my favorite lipsticks with nothing but a nub left.

Days like this help to remind me David is 2 and not 26.

The real deal

The other night I set aside the fact the weather was horrible and no good mom in her right mind would take her young children out in such weather and made the trip to the mall so David could let off some steam at the play area. As an added bonus I called up our old neighbor and arranged for his best bud Colin to meet us there.

After a joyous reunion involving a lot of squealing (imagine young girls at a boy band concert) Colin and David made their way to the padded play area. Once inside the soft foamy enclosure they proceeded to run over, push and shove each other and any poor sole who got in their way as they played super heroes. At any given point one of the boys declared they were Superman.

Shortly after we got there a little guy in a full on Superman costume entered the scene.

Devastation was brief.

Within seconds David (wearing his Favorite turtle shirt) assumed the identity of Super Turtle Boy. Apparently his powers enabled him to run faster than any turtle ever.

laughing

Val posted once a long time ago that she had intended to track the development of the twins' sense of humor. I thought that is a great idea, but didn't do anything with it. Well, now it's a meme.

Simon is laughing. What's so funny? Peek-a-boo, of course. Cracks him up.

David, meanwhile is telling jokes. Rather, he is telling a joke:

What does the gingerbread boy put on his bed?
Cookie sheets!

Ha! I taught him this. It is from Reader's Digest--Marla got a subscription for Christmas.

He has no idea why it is funny, but enjoys the reaction and his delivery is spot-on--especially since I make him tell to everyone we encounter "hey, David there is that stranger standing on the corner I made you smile at when you were four-months old; go tell him your joke."

Later, laughing fans.

portrait of a young man as an artist

David drew his first self portrait last night. First, he drew a sort of oval shape that was slightly angular at one end. This was inside a larger, incomplete oval but I don't know if he considered that part of the composition. He declared this to be himself. I complimented him on his work and asked where the eyes are. He drew two circles next to each other near the top of the inner oval. I asked where the nose is. Another circle near the center. Then,I asked about his mouth. For this, he scrawled a wildly crooked and off-center line near the bottom and off to the left, giving the impression of a smirk with some serious attitude.

Here is the very cool thing: he did this on the bottom of the bathtub. He has washable crayons that are made for the bath and draws all over the bathtub and shower. I've never seen his draw under the water, though. He was sitting in the tub and just drew this on the floor of the tub in front of him. I thought about trying to get a photo of it, but as soon as he was done, he began scribbling over it. By the time his bath was over, the drawing had been washed away completely.

For me this was a perfect piece of art--like and icon only truly exists in the space of prayer or a mandala until the sand is dumped into the river, this existed for just a moment, only the two of us saw it, and then the piece, with the moment, was gone without pretension of permanence or importance. A photo would have spoilt it.

perspective

Yesterday I tried to start potty training David. I was determined to be a "good" mother and not turn the TV on and diligently work with him on going potty in the potty. I even refused to put pull-ups on him and made sure a large stack of underwear was handy.

My game plan was to keep him in rooms lacking carpet which means keep him out of the living room. So we set up shop in the kitchen and the first time he peed on the floor it was no big deal. Clorox the spot, new undies, on with playing. The second time he peed I was annoyed but no big deal because it was in his room, Clorox the spot, new undies, on with the morning.

The Third time he peed I was at the end of my rope as it wasn't even noon yet. And this time he did it on the carpet. Occasionally David can sense when Jason and I are so angry he decides to stay out of our way and obey any request made of him. Well this was one of those times so he played quietly in his room the rest of the morning as I cleaned and rushed to get ready for work.

By the time I got to work I was completely defeated with the potty training after only a morning (yes I am a pathetic mother) and depressed because my gifted child just didn't get it (or seem to care that he had peed on himself all morning).

Today a co-worker was telling me about her weekend. She has three small children and on Sunday while mom was working and dad was sleeping the kids decided to turn the house into a swimming pool. Literally. They took all the Tupperware out of the cabinets and proceeded to flood almost every room with water. The beds were soaked clear through, water was a half inch deep in some places and the couch was soaked.

Lets just say I don't feel so bad about a small pee spot on the carpet now.

Veda Mae Gilbert, Memory Eternal

I haven't written since Tuesday even though there has been a lot to write about--Simon is laughing and David drew his first self portrait. But it seemed disrespectful to not first write about a great loss in our family.

Our phone rang at 3:00 am last Tuesday morning. As I made my way to the phone, I prayed that it was a wrong number. No one wants the kind of phone call you get at 3:00 am. It was not a wrong number. It was That call. It was about my grandmother. She collapsed earlier that evening and was ambulanced to the hospital. I spoke with the nurse later on. He said that she was conscious, awake, and communicating. Then, he turned around to do some paper work, and when he turned back, she was gone.

The week since then has been one long hectic day of coordinating arranging, crying, consoling, and wandering around in a disbelieving stupor. The funeral was Friday. She was buried on Sunday.

During the sharing portion of the memorial service, I said something like this:

Veda was a person with a very strong sense of right and wrong. She had great moral clarity and was also very outspoken making her, at times, somewhat opinionated. Her sense of right and wrong was so strong that she could actually be hurt when she saw someone making wrong choices.

This could be a little difficult to deal with because there are many times in my life when we disagreed about right and wrong and didn't feel like she should feel injured by my decision. Of course she was very often correct, but sometimes, we simply had to disagree and deal with it. Somewhere in my teens I realized that if I was making a decision for myself that Veda would not take kindly to, the best approach was the direct one. Be straight, assume she is an adult that can handle the truth, and tell her what is going on. When I did this, she wasn't shy about letting me know where I was wrong, but she never wavered in her love and acceptance of me.

Because of this, I learned what unconditional love looks like. When I eventually recognized that in another woman, I married her. Veda also taught me that integrity is the best course. Be honest and direct and let the chips fall where they may. These lessons have served me very well and kept me more-or-less on a straight path--or I at least return to that path eventually. I never consider two options in my life without thinking about what Veda and Gib would think about it--they are my own personal "what would Jesus do?".

In the course of the visitation, funeral, burial, visits to the house, calls, cards, and online condolences, we heard from over 400 people over the last week. I know that the majority of these who knew Veda personally also saw in some measure this sense of morality combined with love that I saw. I know it touched and guided them too. I know that all of us will continue to be guided by Veda and that her memory will be eternal.

Hawk Eye

Unlike David, Simon is all eyes. He'll watch you walk by, he'll watch you leave the house, he'll even watch you watching tv.

The one thing he really keeps an eye out for is David.

My guess is he's already figured out you must always stay alert to the possibility of being attacked by the over abundant love David has for all of us.

At times it can be quite painful.