Deconstruction, personified.

From Peggy Noonan's latest Wall Street Journal editorial, July 30, 2011.
(Sidebar: I guess Noonan's already accruing online flak for calling Obama a "loser." I actually thought her assessment prior to that comment--excerpted below--was more noteworthy.)

Mr. Obama seemed brilliant at politics when he first emerged in 2004. He understood the nation's longing for unity. We're not divided into red states and blue, he said, we're Big Purple, we can solve our problems together. Four years later he read the lay of the land perfectly—really, perfectly. The nation and the Democratic Party were tired of the Clinton machine. He came from nowhere and dismantled it. It was breathtaking. He went into the 2008 general election with a miraculously unified party and took down another machine, bundling up all the accrued resentment of eight years with one message: "You know the two losing wars and the economic collapse we've been dealing with? I won't do that. I'm not Bush."

The fact is, he's good at dismantling. He's good at critiquing. He's good at not being the last guy, the one you didn't like. But he's not good at building, creating, calling into being. He was good at summoning hope, but he's not good at directing it and turning it into something concrete that answers a broad public desire.

She.

Isn't she a beauty? I know you Grandmas will disagree. :)

 Well, it's official: the newest life in the Olson clan is a GIRL! She's kicking me as I type this; interpret that as you will. Feisty? Naturally Vivacious? Inclined to motion? Knows instinctively when she's the center of attention? :)

Papa and I and the two boys waited patiently during the ultrasound this morning for the Big Moment... which came a little later than we expected (re: boys were at the cusp--not moment, thankfully--of meltdown). The sonographer told us the baby was butt-down, so no visual confirmation that way. I had to do some acrobatics, and then Baby turned... only to end up with the umbilical cord and then a hand, respectively, covering the important area. Just call her Ms. Modesty. But thankfully the sonographer got official confirmation--"See those three lines?" she says to Papa and I, and I'm thinking, "We don't actually know anything about what you're telling us--thanks for trying, but we'll believe you if you make some Official Proclamation. Really. So just tell us!"--I saw the words "IT'S A GIRL!!!" appear on the screen nanoseconds before the sonographer repeated them, and instantly I was in disbelief and tears. I was prepared for a boy--and then God surprised me, again.

Anyway, we're thrilled--tickled pink? :)--and are so thankful that Baby C. is healthy and doing well. What a miracle to see her today. What a miracle to know who she is and to call her by name!

Those of you who know--now isn't that an Elsea nose? :)

Girl Power!

Human Sex Ratio: Fisher's Principle

Fisher's principle is an explanation of why the sex ratio of most species is approximately 1:1. Outlined by Ronald Fisher in his 1930 book, it is an argument in terms of parental expenditure. Essentially he argues that the 1:1 ratio is the evolutionarily stable strategy.
I did not know that "evolutionarily" was a word.

Register your predictions in the comments to follow...we will let you know if we begin to balance the sex ratio in the U.S. or whether we will contribute another boy to the imbalance of our environment. -J

Flashback Tuesday: Boys Play.

Here's the first of several posts of pictures we've taken this spring and summer. I caught the boys playing merrily downstairs in April. You'll see that S saw Mama and wanted to come upstairs for a minute; back in those days (oh so long ago!) I could put the Pack 'N Play at the bottom of the stairs to keep S from climbing 'em. Alas, that didn't last long! Anyway, S got distracted pretty fast by big brother P; and then they actually BOTH smiled for the camera AT THE SAME TIME! Enjoy!

Twenty-Week Thanks.

Twenty weeks! Thank You, God, for twenty weeks of life, of growth, of persistent heartbeats that only You can hear. Of toddler laughs and cries and screams and whispers that come at belly-level and tie a cord between siblings; of soft, practicing, getting-stronger kicks that tie a cord between Baby and (soon-to-be-both) parents. Of bumps, all kinds; especially the kind that now I cannot miss, I cannot forget, and as before I cannot begin to imagine life without. But I pray that life without will come in good time, and as Your time is always perfect, Lord, please help me bear these next twenty weeks with patience and with thanks.

Finally! Somewhere to Sit. And Read.

Drumroll, please: after several months of an empty living room (per Papa moving all our original stuff downstairs to the now-finished basement), our "new" living room--complete with furniture to sit on! We've been enjoying it immensely since Thursday morning--and for the boys, that meant about thirty seconds after the furniture guys left. The corner chair and ottoman are especially popular! A nice little side perk? No payments--paid for with cash.

P couldn't resist peeking through the windows at the construction machines across the street. So much excitement for one day!

Love S's face..."Can you see what I'm doing, Mama?"

 

P decided where the toys would go... peeking out at the corner of the couch. Good choice, Son!

Now reading time before bed is even more enjoyable!

Annoying (and Some AxE-murdering Weirdness).

So today we've had a few annoying things happen. Nothing earth-shattering--just out-of-the-ordinary stuff that deserves a blog post (for those of you bored enough to read about it).

First, I've been working through an issue with one of our savings accounts. I got an unidentified deposit in May, and being the good Christian that I am--insert guffawing laughter here--asked the bank to do some research as to where the funds came from. Long story short, some bureaucratic underling at USD made the stupid mistake of looking up my name instead of cross-checking social security numbers, so some student worker missed out on $200 while I--three years from the last time I worked for the South Dakota Board of Directors for SDSU, a completely different school--got magic money. So, she finally asked them where the dough was, they looked, realized they screwed up, and--oh! they needed my written permission to take the money back.

I love how mistakes work.

So today, after conversations and emails with the bank, I called the USD Human Resources chick, then emailed her and the bank what they wanted, and Papa and I decided to close the account and open another one just so the SDBOD can never, ever make this mistake again. They can't delete my info--my precious, identity-stealable-info--due to "record retention regulations" (how's that for alliteration?), and they can only "put a block on my profile," so we figured this was the next best protection we could take. So... somebody in government makes a mistake and someone else spends probably three hours fixing it? At a full-time government salary with benefits, how much did that $200 mistake really cost? And that doesn't count the bank worker time or my time being all altruistic and honest. I mean, don't I at least deserve a medal or something for being so cooperative?

Ha. Hahahahahahaha.

Second, Papa can't find his wallet. This happens fairly frequently, but he looked for an hour and still can't find it. Update: he found it at church. Under some papers. After going and looking there twice, in between telling me how annoying it was that he couldn't find his wallet, thus couldn't go get some stuff, thus couldn't mow the grass... well, he's mowing the grass now, and all's well that ends well. Especially if you end with your wallet in your pocket.

Third, I got a text this afternoon from someone telling me how they're probably going to sign soon on a house and be homeowners again by August 19, and thanx for all my support!!! Um, no problem. Because I was sitting at my computer while I told Papa about this, I decided to do a reverse phone lookup, even though I figured the message came from a cell phone. It did, but the free service identified the town where the number (or the owners of the phone?) came from was Villisca, Iowa.

So I did what any God-fearing American would do and googled Villisca, expecting a map to pop up first--and I got the website for the Villisca Ax Murder House. Um, yeah. In 1912, in said house, the Moore family (two parents, four kids) and two other kids were brutally slaughtered (I'd say "axe murdered," but that's pretty self-evident, and then it brings up the whole debate as to whether ax should be spelled with an "e" or without. The "e"s seem to win it, but maybe those folks who run the House get dibs on correctness). No one ever solved the mystery, strange things take place on the property... and the house looks like the major tourist destination for central Iowa. Talk about information I did not expect to learn today.

I was hoping this guest would be wearing the "Where Skeptics Become Believers" shirt, but no luck. I like the overalls, though.

On the bright side, the temperature dropped back into the mid-80s and, most excitingly, our living room furniture was delivered this morning! Post soon about that non-annoying, non-weird stuff.

Highlights of VBS...So Far

The only prop potentially better than a felt board.

 I'll admit it; I was not looking forward to this week. And then it happened. And now we've got one day left and I'm actually disappointed (even if Papa, especially, and I are exhausted). Maybe next year we can go for four three-hour days!

•  It's summer, Bible stories and hymn-singing, treat-eating and little-one quality time... what's not to love? (Despite all my misgivings?)
  
• Finding uses for colored Popsicle sticks.   
• Teaching the Creation narrative and Jonah's hair-raising adventure to non-readers by reading from the Bible and using a giant felt board. Felt boards ROCK. And ours has about a zillion pieces. I should have taken a picture--truly, the lions were laying down with the lambs. And fish were in the sky. And trees were perilously close to mid-seas. And God evidently created lots of reptiles and not a lot of mammals. But these felt boards make for some gorgeous masterpieces!
• Seeing how kids (mostly) get along right away, make friends, and help each other out. And occasionally get so crazy wound-up they run in circles, literally, with each other. 
• Making friends with a 7-year-old over mac and cheese while she tells me about her baby doll who talks--and says "Poo" which means she poops. And she tells me this twice! Because I might have missed that detail the first time around. I LOVE kids! (And you all know I really do--there's never any guessing what they'll be saying next!)
• Watching teen leaders adapt to the 110 degree heat index by moving "Games" inside (who plans on inside games in July? Only in... Minnesota?). The result? Our eldest, P, kind of playing bingo the first day and saying, "Are these little pieces candy?"--after he'd already put three of the plastic things in his mouth. Today, onlookers--and participants--laughed non-stop as the little ones tried to play Twister one minute (hilarious anytime, but especially with kids who don't quite get the directions) and "Duck, Duck, Grey Duck" the next (which involved a lot of running down the halls and group chasing). P had another one-liner: "I didn't know I could do somersaults in church!" Yeah, Buddy--try that in the nave one Sunday! :)
• Visiting with church members for hours every night, because we have as much help as we do participants. 
• Listening the kids belt out, "But now has Christ ariiiiiiiiiiiii-sen, ariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-sen, ariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-sen!" from "This Joyful Eastertide." Thinking, "God must find no greater joy in praise than from the mouths of children." What a gift to hear it!
• Having everything come together at the last minute--and even if adults can tell the difference between super-organized, super-prepared, and super-by-the-program, kids can't.
• Hearing a kid say, in the brief silence following the final "Amen" after we'd all just completed the "Close of Service" devotion out of LSB, "That was fun." Whether she meant following a short quasi-liturgical service or the whole VBS she-bang, I don't know--but that was a definite highlight.

National Ice Cream Day

July 17, 2011 is
National Ice Cream Day
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! What better day to shout this mantra than today—it’s National Ice Cream Day!

In 1984, President Ronald Reagan designated July as National Ice Cream Month. He also declared that the third Sunday in July would be National Ice Cream Day. We’re definitely thankful, because ice cream is a summertime (or anytime!) favorite for people of all ages. With hundreds of flavors and toppings to choose from, you can't go wrong with ice cream!

Whether you get it in a cup or in a cone, atop a waffle or in a banana split, make sure to visit your local ice cream shop today to get some cold, delicious ice cream. Watch out for ice cream events and freebies happening in your area! Happy National Ice Cream Day!

~Text taken from here. And the M & M's and chocolate syrup are optional.

Flashback Friday: S and His Godparents

Since P and his godfather got a post in June, I thought I'd give S's godparents dibs before I post about P and his godmother. The good news: they're terrific people who we get to see often (like every few weeks--we'll be seeing them today, as a matter of fact!), and we talk to them very often (I love talking to "Aunt" B here and there, and J talks to "Uncle" M almost every day--pastor talk there, when it's not sports talk... :)). The bad news: I have no current pictures of S and his godparents. So his birthday and baptismal pics--that would be from last year, of course--will have to do! Much love to the wonderful M family!

Kicks. Little feathery alive kicks.

Began feeling little kicks late last week. Today, I felt them while I was sitting up (not lying on my side, which is the easiest way to feel them, especially early). Can't wait until Papa, P, and S can feel them, too (and see them--though it's a bit weird to see random jumps coming from a big belly, even for Moms who are used to the movement)! Fun, fun, fun!

Look at this 18-week-old! No, it's not ours -- but I bet Olson Baby's liking the thumb flavor, too!

A New Car ...

Some friends of ours have been great about handing down gently used stuff from their boys to ours (thanks, S family!). Lately, we scored an easel--awesome!--and today, a car. This car is probably pushing fifteen years old, because the first family to own it (also friends of ours!) have daughters who are driving real cars. My brother had one identical to this growing up; he loved it, and our boys proved no different. Sidebar: I LOVE outside toy hand-me-downs! It doesn't matter how dirty they are or how old they are (or even if batteries work or not; most of our outside toys came from a neighbor who picked them up from the curb from someone who was literally throwing them away) -- the kids love 'em, and they can beat 'em up all they want.

Anyway, so P wanted to play outside all day today with the car, and S liked sitting in it, too... we had a few tense moments, a few tears, but all in all, our new car is a hit. AND it fits nicely into our one-car garage next to the big car! Enjoy the play-by-play here; captions are unnecessary but oh-so-fun! As always, feel free to contribute your own!

S thinks: Cool ride, Bro! Looks interesting!

S": I seriously want a ride. P: This stick tastes good.

S: I can scale this thing. No problem. P: Yuck. I hate when these things lose their original flavor.

S: C'mon! I know this thing is a two-sitser! P: Should I use the stick...?

S: Just a little bit more room... P: Okay, Mom, I'll smile for the camera this once.

P: Don't even THINK about taking the wheel this time, Buddy!

Peace and harmony (for a moment!)

Coming Soon: Pictures, pictures...

Currently, we have over 600 pictures on our little Sony camera. That means I haven't downloaded them to my computer in way too long. It also means you--few, we happy few! dear readers--haven't seen some visual updates of the boys in much too long. But my goal for July is to go through them, edit out the blurry ones, and post about the last three months' major events for us--birthdays, vacation, etc. AND keep up with regular, everyday pictures that we happen to take. And putting that goal on our blog will make it happen! Right? I said, am I right?

Happy Belated Birthday, Mr. V (And America)

 We spent a quiet Independence Day here at home. There's no formal celebration in our small town, which is a shame--I miss the parades, the fireworks, and with the little guys at home, driving anywhere to get to any festivities is a lot of work. Besides that, it's vaguely unsettling to be reaping the countless benefits of all those who have sacrificed for American freedom without even a single firecracker to acknowledge it (though many buy the little buggers over in South Dakota and set them off, illegally, in Minnesota. But since the state is "shut down," people didn't have much to fear about getting caught--that, and the local police don't seem to care. In a few years I daresay we'll join those law-breakers. But I digress). Most people here go "to the lake" over the Fourth. But we stayed home, and we subsequently enjoyed one of the best reminders of why Independence Day in our country is really great.

Mr. V, a lovely gentleman at our church, celebrated his 90th birthday on Monday. Achieving that age of distinction is impressive enough. But Arnie has been blessed to raise five children with his wife of 68 (yes, that's a six-eight) years, Esther. He continues to farm land outside of town. In fact, after a windstorm just last week majorly damaged his truck windshield, he promptly knocked the entire thing out ("It was completely destroyed anyway," he told Papa) and drove to town in it, sans windshield, a few miles away. The guy is tough, no doubt about it.

I'd heard before that Arnie served in World War II and received, among other distinguished medals, the Purple Heart. At his Open House at the church, the welcome table featured a large framed mount of his military picture and his medals, including the Purple Heart. What guests couldn't see was the shrapnel that Arnie took in his back over fifty years ago while he served his country, that he still carries while he walks, and farms, and lives.

Papa said a few words to those gathered--scores of awesome family, church friends, and a few now-walker-bound buddies. Papa talked about Independence Day and how we celebrate it--parades, fireworks, picnics and barbeques with family and friends--and how we also celebrate, for the 90th time, the birth of Arnie V. Papa did some math, and come to find out Arnie has been living for more than 38% of our country's 235-year history. Over a third! Arnie promptly said, "That makes me even older than I thought." Everyone loved it. And we are so glad that we have been blessed to know him, that God has blessed us with knowing Arnie as baptized child of God.

I didn't take any pictures at the party. If I could, I would show you the picture in my head of Arnie shaking P's hand while P tells him, "Happy Birthday, Mr. V." Of S giving him one of his charming smiles. Mr. V is so sweet to our boys. And--without sounding rude, I hope--when they look at him, they look at history that even we as their parents can't comprehend, suffering that we have never had to endure, that we can hardly even imagine. I hope they can learn his tenacity, his steadfastness, his dedication to home and family. We are certainly proud to know Mr. V.

The rest of Mr. V's (and America's) birthday we spent relaxing, playing in the kiddie pool, eating homemade oven-fried chicken and sweet corn and green sweet lettuce from the garden (and strawberry-raspberry smoothies for Papa and I later). What a gift to be able to eat from the bounty of the earth; to laugh without fear with our children in the sunshine. I'll leave you with a few pics of the boys exploring the sprinkler (and of Papa tending the garden). And yes, I know the boys are not wearing the appropriate swim attire. I was lazy, and luckily it's not illegal in Minnesota for kids to run around in their own backyard sporting only their undergarments. How's that for a closer?

God bless America, folks!