Brain Storms: Our Cracked Up Advent Calendar

This one goes out to all the baby mamas out there. You know this sharp clean little internet world, where the screen is bright, the spaces clear, and you can escape the cluttered imperfection of life?*
 This place is a web of lies! My blog included!

 * as long as you don't check your inbox.

Well, maybe the word "lies," is a bit much. I don't think it's intentionally misleading to put your best foot forward in life. To remove the cobwebs from one's hair and brush the teeth isn't exactly lying. It's courtesy. And most of what I'm talking about is that. In the world of blogging moms and momming bloggers, there's a bit of tweaking, a bit of fudging, to make sure that the whole world doesn't have to see the bedhead and chihuahua droppings. Unless you want to see that sort of thing, in which case, find another blog, sicko.

No, the lies are not being told to you by that reschooling stay-at-home bloggermom, with her 25 days of handmade organic nature solstice crafts, performed by angelic children who stare at one thing forever and never whine. They are in your own mind, being told to yourself! If you look at that blog, with its lack of sticky places and noise and think, "Well now I feel like dirt." you have a couple of choices.

 

Sure, you could get up, and do some of the stuff, sitting around you, waiting to be done. That's always a good approach. But the easier, pettier option would be to remind yourself that the online mom in question is hiding her imperfections, and is probably standing on checkers and doll clothes, yelling "JUST A SECOND!" upstairs to a kid on the toilet while she snaps that perfect shot of her rustic hand-hewn Legos. If you think she's any better than you at keeping an even temper, or a clean counter top, it's just because you are only seeing what she wants you to see.

Now, officially, I advocate the first reaction, in all areas of life. Proactive, productive, and just plain good for you. I employed it often when I got that familiar drowning feeling, looking at Advent calendars on Pinterest. Get up, dance with a kid, do some dishes, glue googly eyes onto something: the choices are endless.

The second approach, well, we've all done that; reminded ourselves that the people around us aren't as perfect as they would have us believe. And I'm about to surprise you, because I want you to do that with me. Spot the stains! Smirk smugly at the smudges! Revel in my short-comings, for they are many. I'm about to make it really easy too. I'm here today to share an idea for an Advent calendar. It's odd and fun, and way too late to do anyone any good for nearly another whole year! That, my friends, is how I roll. And it gets better. We didn't even get the Advent calendar made on time this month.

See, this family loves to anticipate a big date, and counting down with fun and candy just seems like an automatic win. So Advent calendars always caught my fancy. My friends have lovely ones, and I've considered making one according to one of the millions of adorable homespun ideas out there, but never even remembered they exist until sometime around the first of December. Then, with a Christmasy feeling just starting to motivate and inspire me a million different ways, the idea of squeezing in another project seems impossible, so we manage another year without counting down our December.

 

Four days into this December, I was telling Thomas about Advent calendars; their origin, and all of the variations on the idea. I ended up saying, "We need twenty four of something that we can put something in." which is when Thomas' eyes lit up and he said, "EGGS!" That was such a great idea, it didn't matter that we'd be almost a week late by the time it was implemented. We blew the contents out of twenty four eggs and marked their numbers with melted beeswax and a paint brush. The wax is clear and resisted the dye with which we were about to color the front of the egg. We set the blown egg, number side down, into a little dish of food coloring, water, and vinegar for a few minutes. Then, onto a dry towel. They sat on the woodstove afterward, to dry, and the heat helped melt away the beeswax, leaving a clear number. They were then strung up, but not before stuffing each egg with a rolled strip of paper. A button strung under the egg helps keep the string in place, and adds a bit of zazz.

All of the eggs were hung on our big Christmas tree, and each day, we broke one. Starting a week late meant that we enjoyed a major smashing of six eggs on our first night. Some papers read, "Make cookies with Henry," "Make a wreath," or "Watch the Nutcracker," but the favorite ones exclaim "CANDY!" and everyone gets chocolate.* Each day, a kid cracks an egg and we obey, slavishly eating our chocolate and celebrating together. It was great fun, and helped the younger two wrap their little minds around the remaining chunk of time between that present moment and the approaching Christmas morning.

 

I know we'll do it again next year, and maybe we'll even get it made in November!

*I learned pretty quickly that if this crew of mine didn't get chocolate each day, things would get riotous. So, in the interest of Peace on Earth and all that, I gave out candy whether the egg ordered me to or not. I also gained five pounds, but that's for another post.

Tails and Tidings: Eight Puppies are One

Today is many things. It is the seventh of December, one week into the last month of 2012. The small print on today's square inch of your nearest calendar will tell you that it is also Pearl Harbor Day, a significant day in United States history. Seventy one years ago today, a U.S. Naval Base in Hawaii was bombed, setting off U.S. involvement in what was our planet's second World War.

One year ago today, history was made here at the BU. Our house was puppy-bombed, and I met this lovely lady.

Zelda, our youngest, biggest dog, was born in our living room one year ago, along with her seven brothers and sisters. Their mom was a shelter dog in need of a foster home with room for nine, as she was abandoned while pregnant. We loved her right away, named her Holly, and did our best to take care of her. There was even a time when we thought she might stay with us after her puppies left, but it didn't work out that way. She needed us for a short time only, and now lives near Portland. I contacted her new humans back when she went to live there, and she seemed to settle in right away.

 PUPDATE:

Jimmy, one of the two boys, is living it up a few miles north of me, at the Sea Haven Motel & Guest House, with his devoted parents, and big brother, DJ. He is a lucky boy who runs on the beach and meets new people regularly.

Judy, the firstborn, made a big move to New Mexico, where she is making me jealous, getting to spend so much time with my friend forever, Leah, and her magical wonderful family of beautiful interesting people. Also, of the pups, Judy probably enjoys the most sunshine.

The following pupdate about Maggie Mae is lifted from Maureen's (who adopted Jimmy) comment below.

"Maggie Mae is happy, safe and living the ubber urban life in PDX with her owners, Sue & Rich, and their complement of cats. She has traveled to the San Juan Islands and other points north, alas, still staying in the cooler, less sunshiny, NW."

 I appreciate the information she can provide, as close friends with Maggie's adoptive parents. It was delightful to meet Sue and Rich, and feel so good about a puppy's future.

Zelda stayed here and has proven herself to be smart, sweet, and able to fold herself into a flattened dogpacket so that she may will herself through the centimeter of space under the fabric of a pig wire fence. I need to find a use for that talent of hers.

Good thing she is abundantly charming; always coming when called, even when liberated from leash or backyard. She is brilliant, and can access that intelligence for quick learning, even though her brain has been a clanging storm of puppy for the last year. I love her dearly, and feel fortunate that she came into existence in our home, like two of my kids.

I also marvel at her size and strength. It's been said before, but what hasn't? They grow so fast.

The remaining pups:

Unfortunately, two of the female puppies are not still with their adoptive homes. They were returned to the care of the shelter. As much as I would have loved for it to work out, I have been in the position to have to return a dog to the place from whence it was adopted. I hated myself too much in those moments to bring up judgment for those people who had to admit that they could not own their puppy forever. At least they didn't just leave it somewhere.

And the other two, (a female and a male) I have no idea about. I wish them well, and hope they have a happier than usual day today. Perhaps they were adopted by someone who knows they were born on Pearl Harbor day, and will toss an extra scrap their way.

I think about Holly most of all. At the time, it was very difficult to admit that she could not stay here, and when I see her in Zelda, I feel a twinge of something.

It's not really sadness, because who knows how things are supposed to happen? It's a feeling of awe at having touched that flow of time and matter we call birth. She reminds me so much of her mother, but there's something else there. The genes of another dog, and her new personality, having known only this family as her people, and our dogs as her pack.

Alright, I'm putting on the puppy-dog face for some shameless begging, so watch out:

For some of us, this time of year is for acting on good intentions. If you live in a fairly clean and safe neighborhood, chances are, you have your local animal shelter, in part, to thank for it. Not only did our Tillamook Animal Shelter take in a pregnant dog and find us to care for her and her puppies, they provide a valuable service for our town, daily, nightly, no matter what it demands of them. And they are always in the mood for a contribution. Volunteering, fostering, donations, sharing animal postings from a shelter's Facebook page: animal shelters rely on the generosity of their community, as do the animals in their care, as do all of us who don't have to contend with stray pigs in the streets. So, if you love animals, or if you hate them and hope never to encounter a stray one, show some love to your favorite local shelter. Do it because it's a holiday. Do it because you get that giving really is better than receiving. Do it for all the puppies.

And that business about giving beating the pants off of receiving isn't just a bunch of puppy piddle. Being there for Holly and her puppies brought our family a strong feeling of harmony. Through all of the ups and downs, we as a family pulled together and never felt the burden wasn't being paid off exponentially. We'll never forget the Christmas when we hosted a litter of chocolatey sweet puppies, and when we look at Zelda, there is proof that all of that wasn't just some slobbering stinking dream.

To Tell the Tooth

 George is seven.

He's due for some gaps in that smile soon, but don't let his gorgeous grin fool you, he is not happy about it. He is the first child I have met who would rather keep his mouth as it is, thank you very much.

This is something I plan to help him get through. I'm sharing it here because it's an anxiety that is real, and some kids feel it; yet, there is very little in Internetland on the subject that doesn't devolve into the use of fairy tales.* So, I'm putting our experience on record, in hopes that it will help someone little out there who doesn't exactly relish the notion of beloved body bits becoming all wobbly and dropping off. Here we go, armed with facts, feelings, and freedom. Growing up and keeping it real.

 

*Nothing against you, tooth fairy, but we call that sort of thing "pretending" around here. It's done with great glee, but it's still called "pretending."

I'll tell you what I did first. I  reassured George. Why? Because that is what adults do for each other when facing something frightening. "Reassure child that losing teeth is normal," was tip number one on all sites yielded by the Google search, "child nervous about losing first tooth." Reassure child that losing teeth is normal.

Yeah, I did that. He starts to freak out a little and say, "No!" He did not plan for this to happen and it is happening anyway. So actually, reassuring him sounds, to him, like I don't hear him.

"It's okay! It's normal!" I chirp, reassuringly. To him, that sounds like, "I totally don't care how forked up it sounds to have your very own teeth fall out of your face! Your fear is your problem!" So I think, instead of reassurance, he needs the freedom to be frank, without cheerleading. He doesn't have to be okay with this. He can say so. And he did. Here are some of his thoughts on the subject:

Number one: Teeth fall out.
Number two:  They grow another tooth.
Number three:  I do not want my teeth to fall out.
Number four: They grow more teeth.
Number five:  I am nervous and excited.
Number six: I think it's going to be growing.
Number seven:  I have a loose tooth.
Number eight:  There will be a little bit of blood.
Number nine: Oooh, it'll hurt.
Number ten: After it comes out, I will play with the tooth.

Thank you for sharing, George. And thanks for giving me an idea. Right after he and I wrote his ten point break-down on losing teeth, I realized I had something in a little box on a little shelf that might help make this transition smoother for him. Teeth! Thanks to my sentimental hoarding, there were five little incisors for George to handle and inspect. Physical evidence that Henry and Thomas went through it too. He was delighted by them, clacking them together and shaking them around in the cupped palm of his hand. Sometimes knowing your big brothers did something, and survived, can embolden a fellow.

That's where you all come in. Not only do I plan to unearth pictures of Henry and Thomas at this stage of life, I am on the look-out for any and all photos of jack-o-lantern smiles: pictures of kids, showing off their spaces and/or newly emerging teeth. If you feel like taking part, send a picture of your favorite gappy grin.  It needs to be a photo of you or a child whose photo you have the right to publicize. You can send them via private message on Facebook, or post a link to them in the comments below this post. Using photos of his brothers, and any other contributions, I plan to show George, with real faces, that he will survive this change, and that he might even still be smiling afterward.

Thanks for Nothing

Here comes Thanksgiving in America, 2012. I bought a new spiral notebook and a whole bag of pens in preparation. It's going to be kind of a big deal this year so I don't want to forget anything.

During these long dull days after the debauchery of Halloween, and before the sparkling of Christmas*, it is popular to concentrate on the good things. And why not? Is gratitude and humility in the face of a livable life ever out of season? Those things for which we are all thankful are subjective: relative to what we have, and what we feel entitled to have. My mind wanders from all of the things I appreciate in my life, outward, to a larger thing that I believe enables it all to be as it is. And so, I find myself most thankful for nothing.

*or whatever you call that time of the year right before January, when you have to spend time with your grandma, overeat,  and pretend not to be disappointed by gift-wrapped pajamas.

Oh, gentle reader, do you know how many times I nearly bored you to death with descriptions of How We Homeschool? Or How I See Things? I am ashamed of how many files I have where I start to describe My Take on Educating My Little Ones; in which I come to hate the sight of my own blah blah blah, kids need this, kids need that, I see things this way and that way. Wake up! Come back!

But you wouldn't have been right to come back. That blather is boring and irrelevant to your life. So, this thing, this nothing of which I am about to speak, isn't really nothing at all, but a very useful something, which anyone can appreciate.

Wake up! Come back!

Now, I'm no math instructor, but I have been married to one for a while, so I'm pretty sure I'm a math expert by now. I hope, at least, I can explain zero.

We, as humans, haven't always understood such a thing as nothing. Let that sink in for a second. Once, there was no nothing. When you're talking about anything in life, you're talking about something. But what if you need to hit the old space bar? Take a "rest," musically speaking? How would you convey nothingness without it being filled by something else? You make a beautiful little bubble around it. A little dot of nothing. Protected, defined, definitely there, and definitely something, but very decidedly not.

That is my way. No way. The Tao of Homeschooling? Yick, but maybe. Make no mistake, it doesn't involve a lot of feeling like not doing anything, so video games. There is a BU Motto, a modus operandi, if you will, a mission statement, of sorts:

Discover your passion(s) and get really good at something.

I heard a lady on TV, a few years ago, say, "The secret to happiness is to find out what you love most and become an expert at it." When I heard that, it quickly moved into my top favorite quotes and a core value in my life -just as we made the move to homeschool all of the kids, all of the time.  As we have loped along, in pursuit of that ideal, the value of Nothing In Particular has made itself clear. That's where I come in. I stand guard at the perimeter and make the spaces happen, in our time, and in our home. I do little to orchestrate activities, rather feeling my role is to try to make sure nobody is too lazy, gets hurt, is overbooked, or burns down the house. Sometimes I clean up afterward, but making them do it for themselves is all part of the magical learning environment we call L-I-F-E, so I'm worming my way out that one too.

It wasn't as easy as it sounds, all of that lackadaisical letting go. When you are raising young children, there is a strong urge to involve them, and yourself, in things; to get out of the house, or bring other people in, to check out museums, parks, playgroups, besides school and sports. I enjoyed the years we spent that way, when our oldest two were young, and have had passing shadows of guilt that, while we still love our friends, family, and outings, we haven't made that sort of activity much of a priority as homeschoolers.

For me, this has been a particularly difficult instinct to trust at this time, because finding opportunities for socialization is usually at the top of the to-do list for parents who decide not to send their kids to school. Still, I can't help but suspect I am right in shrugging off that pressure for now. My self-appointed position is Serenity Enforcer. The phone is off, and a respectable portion of our time has a nice thick line drawn around it. Maybe this is what I think is best for my kids right now, and maybe it's just what I think is my best.

Here's what has happened in that doggedly defended space over the last couple of years: poetry written in the condensation collecting on the laundry room windows, math made into ocarina music, impromptu circus tricks on the front lawn, and doll fights whose resolutions can only be called "Shakespearean." What has bubbled up in our big empty cauldron has been a meld of art, academia, emotion, science, intellect, engineering, and athleticism, all roiling at the rate of natural human development. It feels like the whole world is here in this void we have carved out for ourselves.

I know I'm just speaking as me here. And you are not me, nor should you be. I am Xtreme. Our whole life is one big zero most days, and it wasn't always like this, nor should it have been, nor will it be forever. But understanding that, in any life, a peaceful little pocket of absolutely nothing isn't going to happen on its own, is the first step. When you know that you can finally take the lead and find places to draw a zero, crawl inside it, maybe with a kid or four, and see what happens next.

Watch It: Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein

Well, folks, this is it. We finish up our Queue de Grâce odyssey with a light-hearted, but spooky, comedy,  Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948), directed by Charles Barton. The movie follows the adventures of two delivery men, Chick and Wilbur, who are charged with delivering Count Dracula and Frankenstein's monster to a House of Horrors. While trying to do their job, they encounter one fright after another, get tangled up with a well-meaning werewolf, and wander further into danger.

For my kids, this was an introduction to Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, a comedy duo big in the days of vaudeville, who carried their success into the world of television and films.

Today, we were all able to enjoy this one. It's a stormy Sunday, so we didn't need much convincing to pop a dozen cubic yards of popcorn and pile on the couch with an old quilt and a slightly less old chihuahua*, to see what Cole has in store for us today.

 * He's going to miss movie week most of all. The couch has never been so warm.

Today on this movie, we can watch ghosts. The monster is a toy. The monster toy  is getting these guys. The guys got scary, and the guys giving a barrel. Because the guy putting the barrel on the water. The monster toy is putting the cape on the water. I like that movie, it was scary. It was getting these guy. It was feel scary and now I'm being a monster. Look at me. *ROAR!*

 

This was the first work by Abbott and Costello that I've seen, but it is pretty much what I expected. To me, the funniest parts are when Costello is shocked to the point where he can't speak and he just has to pantomime everything. You recognize every event because of how well he plays it out. It's a little like a silent movie, for this reason. 

Another thing I found hilarious was that. for some strange reason, a very beautiful woman is very much in love with Wilbur and everyone is shocked by this. But, of course it turns out that the woman is just using it as a strategy to trick him into something that she wants from him. This is all compounded when another woman employs the exact same strategy. Once again, this other woman needs him for something , so she pretends to be in love with him. With  two women both pretending this same thing he starts thinking he's really hot stuff.


  I like this movie. There was a monster, and there was Chick and there was Wilbur, and there was Abbott and there was Costello. There was a wolfman and he turned into a wolf. There was the ocean and a paddle boat. They paddled.



The directors had a pretty good idea when they did this. The animation was really good. I liked how Wilbur was always trying to tell his friend, Chick, how he sees all of these monsters and stuff, and he's the only one who sees it. It's so silly how they conveniently come out of his sight when he want to find Chick and show him. I'd say, this movie scores ten sub sandwiches out of five.

 I loved Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, it was so funny. Even though it is a live action movie, it still has this very cartoony feel to it. Usually, around this point, I'll say what I liked about the film, but what I like best about this movie was the movie! 

The Wolfman was trying to stop Chick and Wilber's delivery from going through because he knows that Count Dracula was trying to bring Frankenstein's monster back, because he was trying to.. uh, you know, that confuses me. Why did Dracula want to bring the monster back?


Don't overthink it.







 
 Don't overthink it? Okay. Oh, ha! You should put that in the blog, you telling me not to overthink it.




 
 I will.







 You should also put in me telling you to put it in.





Okay.






 
So he gets entangled with Chick and Wilbur, trying to get them to help him stop Dracula from using Frankenstein's monster. Let's just assume he wants to use the monster to terrorize people, just because that's what Dracula's biggest goal is in life.

Favorite line: I saw what I saw when I saw it.
Exactly, Wilbur. Some of us only see what we want to see. But, Wilbur has an open (some might say empty) mind and can only notice whatever is around him, because he just can't help noticing it. The others were so close to seeing the same thing, like Chick, and were denying it. They basically didn't want to see it because they didn't want to believe that such things existed to begin with. It could be right in front of them and they wouldn't notice it.

 What is not to love about Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein?  The "Big Three" Universal films horror monsters, all running around a drafty mansion, something like four(?) consecutive full moons, and Abbott and Costello, who always entertain me with their contrasting personalities. Abbot plays the serious straight man, eternally tasked with trying to tamp down the quivering, whistling, buzzing ball of chins that is Costello. I like how they're constantly wearing similar or identical clothes, like a grown-up pair of brothers. Whether they're in uniform, lounge wear, or snazzed up for a night on the town, the laugh factor of whatever they're doing is heightened by their matching outfits. 

So there we have it! We took the Queue de Grâce challenge by the horns, and wrestled it to the ground. We have changed its clothes, fed it snacks, and snuggled it like crazy. This is a week I'll always feel grateful for, not just for the leisure and entertainment, but the discipline and ordered interaction between us as a family. We weren't just putting some movie on, we took this business seriously. Afterward, there were conversations, orations, costumes, props, team work, sabotage, mutiny, apologies, and more team work. Watching and discussing the films chosen for us was a unique family experience. We so appreciate the interaction with all of you, fair readers. And to you, Cole, we extend a heartfelt, if not sticky, Family Hug. Thank you.

Watch It: Raising Arizona

The end of our Queue de Grâce saga is in sight! We spent most of our week abroad, so it felt like coming home today to watch Raising Arizona (1982), starring Nicholas Cage and Holly Hunter and directed by the brilliant Coen brothers. This loud explosive comedy is an ode to family. Meet the McDunnoughs and their baby, Junior. Don't they look normal?

Well, they are, in that each of these spouses, while devoted to family, is dealing with his and her own restless instincts. Herbert, also known as "Hi",  struggles with life as a stable head of the household after leaving behind the reliable chaotic rhythm of life as an outlaw. Edwina, also known as "Ed", has always been a model citizen, an officer of the law in fact, but is betrayed by her own body in realizing her dream to become a mother. And Junior? Well, he'd probably like to be home, but unfortunately for Ed, his home is not with her.

Today's Laszlo Line-up was the two oldest boys, who are too big to cuddle, and my little lap monster, Mae who cuddles like it's a competitive sport.

Perfect storyline. I liked it. It's about a guy, he keeps going back to jail because he keeps robbing convenience stores. It's so funny because when he's getting his mugshot taken, he falls in love with the cop who tells him to turn. She is not capable of bearing babies, so they steal one from a rich guy. And all this crazy stuff happens, like people keep trying to steal it and get the bounty. And in the end: happy fuzzy dreams. Watching it makes me feel like talking in a Texas accent.

 
 Because the baby fall down and the guy is taking the baby.

Joel and Ethan Coen have created a canon of films, all of which touched a spot in my head that I didn't even know was there. Raising Arizona was my first look at a Coen brothers film, way back when it first came out. I was thirteen and had never watched anything so weird, and wonderful. The dense poetic dialogue is at once eloquent and colloquial. Every word is lovingly chosen. This is the kind of movie you quote with your favorite friends and family members.

 This movie is called Raisin in the Soda. The ghost was running to the neck.


 

The Raising Soda is going to sleep on the bed. The baby is lie down to the bed. The baby holding the phone shaker. I like the movie.

So far, in this Queue de Grâce, I have loved all of the movies that Cole has chosen, and this one was no exception. Some of the jokes, I didn't get. I guess I would have had to grow up in my mom's generation to understand some of those things. Nevertheless, there were some jokes that made sense to me and were funny.


 

I saw it as a funny adult comedy movie about this reformed criminal (slightly reformed, I mean, he does go breaking into convenience stores again) and his wife who is a resigned cop.What I liked about this movie is that it's funny, but there are other genres that come through, towards the end. For example, I especially liked how he sees the tattoo on the bounty hunter,, and that's never explained. Also, Hi's dream at the end was sad and sentimental. 


 Quirky, it is, indeed; but these themes are universal. Domesticity is an odd prison, because it is one of our own making. A guy can think he's an outlaw all he wants. When he's in love and there's a baby to think of, things get real and, for some, it can feel like the wrong place to be. Even for those of us who cherish the sacrifices of settling down, there are still moments. This is the ultimate family movie for that reason. Here we all are! Now what?*

*Start a blog, that's what.
  
I'm giving you all the old head's up again on mature content. Guns are ablazing and fists are flying. Mae watched this with us, and we discussed how that was unacceptable behavior for her at this stage in her life. If she wants to go all Leonard Smalls on us as a grown-up someday, I suppose it might be my fault.