Mathematical relativism, the beautiful butterfly, and laziness...

Last night...

Bryan:  ... 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 58, 47, 73, 14, ...

Jacob:  No Bryan, that's not how it goes. 

Bryan:  (offended)  I get to decide for myself... 16, 42, 36, ...

Jacob:  No, Bryan,...

Bryan:  (deeply offended)  Mommy, Jacob is trying to be in charge of me.

The mathematician in me is concerned at the mathematical relativism.
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The Beautiful Butterfly is our new favorite picture book.  It looks like a sweet, sentimental story.  David was adamantly opposed to hearing it.  A sweet butterfly loses her little mouse husband to a hungry fish.  All of nature mourns for her by dropping leaves, singing laments, ... (SPOILER ALERT)  A king comes along and decides to join in the grieving process.  To show his sorrow, he takes off his robe and runs around in his royal underwear.  The brothers h laughed until they could laugh no more.  Then they took off their clothes, put on their robes and acted out the royal underwear scene ad nauseum.*

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This is what you find when you tell a seven year old boy (mine at least) to put the rest of snack up in the fridge.

*The mouse is regurgitated when the fish laughs at the underwear shenanigans.

Ten years never sounded so small...

I read this and was blown away:

"You have only ten years to be in your twenties and only ten years to be in your thirties.  You have only ten years when your child is one to ten.  Then childhood is gone forever."

Wow.  It's obvious, but when I read it, I felt an overwhelming sense of panic.  Remember all the time you spent worrying about your weight as a teenager or twenty-something?  Then you either turned thirty or got hugely pregnant and gained some perspective - "I was skinny and I didn't even know it.  What was I complaining about !?!"

We've just got a few more years of real childhood with David.  He'll stop pretending to be a Jedi soon.  I have a few more months to watch Rand crawl.  We have maybe one more year of Jacob's crazy made up games like Bollyball-bollyball.  Bryan will probably stop making up songs in another year or two.  Once it's gone, it's gone.

And a side of childhood I'm actually excited about leaving behind...

picking up various creepy crawlies.  The found salamanders on our nature walk.  Yuck.

When is she going to sing already?...

Scene from last weekend, past the hour when Chris and I expect to be done for the day with our adorable but exhausting children...

Jacob:  (crying) Bryan won't let me go to sleep.

Bryan: (crying)  Jacob hit me.

Jacob:  (crying and indignant)  I had to hit him because he wouldn't let me finish "The Beach Song."

Bryan:  (crying louder)  He won't listen to my joke.

Jacob:  (still crying)  He won't let me finish my song.  He's  calling me a fat lady.

Chris and me: (laughing) Seriously. Go to bed right now. We're going to think this is funny for like one more minute.

We don't always laugh at their various behavior problems.**  I just tend to blog more about those.  We're like little kids - we get to the giggly stage of tired.

In other news, Rand's infant skateboarding career was short lived.  He rocked out for about five minutes and was over it by the time I got the camera.

*We sang "To God Be the Glory" every night of our '09 beach trip.  It is now "The Beach Song" to the brothers h.

**Sometimes we flip out and occasionally we handle them maturely and seriously.

Chocolate chocolate...

Today was a Jonah day.*  Nothing spectacular happened.  The baby was up a lot in the night, so I woke up late and sleep deprived.  The rest of the day flowed from that inauspicious beginning.  Once we got the kids down to bed, I decided chocolate was required.  When I pulled up to the gas station, a woman pulled in right beside me.  She was about my age, looked worn and frazzled and was driving an oversize SUV.  We made eye contact and she looked a little embarrassed, as I'm sure, did I.  I knew immediately that we were there for the same reason.  At first I thought I had been mistaken when she passed by the candy aisle and walked directly to the counter.  Then I realized that I was right, and the drug of choice was the only difference.

Chocolate
Chocolate

Chocolate
Chocolate

               i
love
      you so
               i
want
       to
marry
       you
       and
live
    forever
         in the
         flavor
of your
 brown
- Arnold Adoff

*See Anne of Green Gables

Free...

We met with our nature walk group a few weeks after Rand broke his leg.  Someone in the group asked what had happened.  I recited my attempt at a light-hearted version of the event.  She immediately zeroed in on the undercurrents of shame.

Friend:  There is no condemnation.

Me:  (nervous/embarrassed laugh, nodding head in surface agreement)

Friend:  No, I can see that you're still condemning yourself.  You're believing a lie.  There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.

Me:  (now really listening)  Thank you.

I had heard the same words from my husband, my mother, my sister-in-law, but for some reason, from the mouth of this virtual stranger, it felt as though it came directly from the heart of God.

The following Sunday a missionary spoke at church.  She told the story of a woman in the village where she worked.  The woman was extremely bitter.  The missionary later learned that the son of this woman had been imprisoned for 5 or 6 years and was still awaiting trial.  There was a local medicine man who would utter special incantations for $85.  These incantations were guaranteed to result in the speedy release of the prisoner.  This woman was ashamed of what she had done, presumably theft and prostitution, to raise the necessary funds.  When she delivered the cash, the medicine man insisted she sleep with him.  In desperation, she agreed.  Her son was not released.  She was eaten up with shame and bitterness.  Some of the local women shared with her the gospel - that there is forgiveness and grace and a different way of life available in Jesus.  She believed and is now a Follower of Jesus. 

Those words, "There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus," jumped to my mind.  I feel a little silly comparing my suburban mama woes with this woman struggling for survival, but it's the same God who has freed us both.  Her son was released within a few days of her decision.

Enlightened?...

I like to think of myself as an enlightened person when it comes to kids' sports.  I'm definitely not one of THOSE parents.  I think there is a passive-aggressive soccer mom lurking beneath the surface, though.  David is really enjoying soccer.  His coach is great - laid back and seems to really know soccer.  David has learned a lot.  He's been practicing some at home and playing pseudo-games with Chris and me.  I've noticed that he's much less aggressive about going after the ball in his Upward games than he is with us.  Recent conversation...

Me:  David, I don't know much about soccer, but it seems to me that one of the most important things is to really go after the ball.
David:  My coach says that the most important thing is to have fun.
Me:  (laughing and shame-faced)  That's absolutely right, buddy.  Just listen to your coach.

Serendipity...

We read this very cool book that combines the story of the Japanese poet Issa with his poetry and beautiful illustrations by Kazuko Stone.

In got me in a haiku mood:

The baby won't cry

While he eats.  I hate to sweep.

Serendipity.

Just in case you're wondering if this is a pattern of slovenly mothering, here is a story from a few years back.  Bryan was about 18 months.  I had just thrown away a bag of stale chips.  While trying to do something (urgent, no doubt) on the computer, I heard the unmistakable sound of chips pouring on to the floor...

Me:  (internal monologue)  They're in a bag in the top of the trash so they aren't THAT dirty, and they should keep him busy for another five minutes or so.  (Five minutes later I go sweep up the chips, dump them into the trash can and return to the computer.  Fast forward another few minutes.)

Sound from hall:  Thunk, crumble.  (pause)  Thunk, crumble.  (pause)...

Enter Bryan carrying a kitchen trash can almost as tall as himself and occasionally dropping it to eat a few chips directly from the trash.  Awesome.