Thanks in Thanksgiving

Like my friend Aubri over here, we Olsons had a nice, relaxed Thanksgiving. It sure is a gift to learn some things over time, like: this is only one day. If the meat and at least one side is done, we'll survive. Kids like to help with special days (even if sometimes it feels like anything but help, like when they're juggling the fine china). A clean kitchen is a great joy. And a perennial favorite: eating is fuuuuun.

I also greatly benefitted from advance planning (I won't talk at length about my Wednesday meltdown which primarily involved a cranky, overtired pregnant momma who spent too much time standing and insisting on unrealistic execution. But I digress). The bread dough and pie were finished yesterday, so the sugar-high cinnamon rolls this morning were a breeze and a hoot--the kids wanted to try using cookie cutters on the dough until I explained that the cinnamon had to have a roll to make it happy. Papa dressed the turkey--the boys debated whether it should get underwear, a ski hat, or PJs to wear--as usual, which is a huge relief for me. He also cleaned and prepped and boiled the white and sweet potatoes. He's a dream, I know!

Because he did that, I could make the Schnitzel Beans (bacon, onions, green beans and other top secret ingredients), the Scalloped Corn, prep the dinner rolls from the dough, and make eggs for a late brunch. I also did two loads of laundry and put away three weeks' worth of clean clothes in our room, which was completely tangential to the meal but made me feel fan-tad-tic (look! Our dresser has a top!). Taking a shower probably helped my state of mind, too. And washing dishes by hand and running the dishwasher twice. Then I made the (box) stuffing and creamy mashed potatoes (cream cheese, check) while Papa carved the bird and made the melt-in-your-mouth sweet potatoes. Oh, and I opened up the can of cranberry sauce that Jon and the kids love.

At four we six and a half sat down to a great meal. We talked about things and people we're thankful for, in between preventing spills, reminders to use utensils, and refilling plates (you never have to ask Small Dude twice if he wants more. He invariably says "Puh-puh," or "please!"). Then I laid on the couch for an hour while Papa cleaned up. Bliss.

Yeah, the kids watched the parade this morning (fun to converse with them about it. When asked about the Rockettes' kick line, the Little Professor said, "It looks like a combine." Why, yes, yes it does. There's a deeper social analysis in that comparison, but the literal one was enjoyable enough). They played spaceship and trucks and who knows what else for much of the day. And I find myself near sleep and realizing how few thanks I gave today, how much I took for granted.

I know better. I wrote about gratitude this very week. I said prayers and read psalms and thought about God's gifts, but these are such small tokens. Like a pastor friend wrote on Facebook today, maybe that's the point--that God is pleased to receive our tiny thanks is another indication of His unsurpassable generosity to His children. We deserve nothing and get everything, and He smiles upon us when we give thanks to Him. I can and should do better, yes, in rendering thanks and praise to my Savior. Yet He forgives even my selfishness and inward focus on this day. For His great mercy I give Him my gratitude, my whispered words. And He gives again, and will so tomorrow and until the end.

More than a handful: A 6th birthday for the Little Professor

Last week we enjoyed an awesome day with our Little Professor, also known as our eldest son. He marked his sixth birthday, and we sure had a slam-bang time! Well, a slam-bang time for a bunch of kids six and under--and mom and dad, too. I didn't get any pics of the outdoor fun, but you can hopefully enjoy the narrative.

As usual, LP got to open cards and presents throughout the day. After breakfast and his first opening, I asked him what he wanted to do: the park or the library. "The library!" he said, a little to my surprise. So the kids and I trekked over, and he (and Superman and Pearly Girl) got to pick out prizes for the library's summer reading program (good thing I filled out the reading logs before we left!). LP chose three books, thrilled to get another Magic Tree House book ("Christmas in Came-lot," he told me).

LP had originally wanted pancakes and sausage for lunch, but he changed his mind and opted for PB & J--which is what he has almost every day. Easy for mom, that one! We enjoyed eating outside at the picnic table on our newish patio, which was put in in May. (A beyond-huge improvement over the mud hole that's been there for a year and a half.) Then, during quiet time while the others slept, LP and I made "Fire Truck Cookies", since he'd chosen to have those instead of red velvet cake, his earlier choice (I know, Aunt R; I was bummed, too). But we didn't exactly make fire trucks. we used blue frosting instead of red, cut off two corners of each graham cracker instead of one, added golden Oreos (LP's choice) to most instead of regular Oreos, adorned the tops with pretzel sticks instead of licorice, sprinkled nonpareils and red, yellow, blue, and green sparkles all over the tops. We'd thought we were making police cars, but what we made looked way more like race cars--always a favorite here--so hey! Even better!

LP's self-made Birthday Cookie

After we took pics of the cookies, LP wanted to take some pics of his own to show off some of his birthday gifts.

A library pick, for obvious reasons. LP said he'll read it to Pearly Girl and Small Dude.

Another self-evident choice: boys and trucks!

And boys and planes! Dusty as a fire truck plane.

He wanted to do a group shot. All layouts and button-pressing done by LP.

After the others woke up, we went to the pool for some swimming ginormous sand castle fun, came home and grilled out for another round of picnic awesomeness. Papa played soccer with the boys before bed, and all in all, LP had a good day. Actually, near bedtime he told me, "I've had a GRREEEAAAT birthday!" And it was. We are so thankful for our son and the six years he's lived outside the womb!

Sibling excitement

 

"What is it?"...

"A harmonica!!" Thanks, Grandpa E.!

Superman made pictures, a card, and picked some of his toys
 to give to LP. He "wrapped" them in the bucket.

 

Nice monster truck!

A happy six-year-old!

By Your Agony and Bloody Sweat

I originally wrote this post on Good Friday two years ago (for reference, Pearly Girl was a few months old, Superman was almost two, and Little Professor was three and a half). Here it is for you on this Good Friday.

On this Good Friday, the title above is both fitting and--I'll admit it--a deliberate attention-getter (that's Comp 101 on "Attracting an Audience" right there). I don't actually like to think about what Christ went through on this day. I don't even like to use the proper language to describe it. Thanks to the Litany (again!) for the right words when my sinful flesh cringes at the truth.

Today the kids and I went up to church at noon for an informal prayer service. I told Papa I could walk there, no problem--he needed to take a few boxes of books earlier so he drove the not-quite-two blocks with our one vehicle. But after strapping on Pearly Girl (roughly fourteen pounds) into the sling and pulling the boys (roughly sixty pounds) into a twenty-mile-per-hour wind for about one hundred yards, I realized I was tackling more than I thought. By the time I got to church, my back and arms were aching-sore and I was totally out of breath. But no big deal, I told myself. Jesus hung on the cross for three hours and endured hours of torment and torture before that, so a little sweat pulling my kids isn't anything to complain about.

We went into the dark church where Papa had covered the cross with a black veil and lit a few candles. A few women from church were there, and we sat in front of them in the first pew. The sanctuary was very dark and quiet. But not for long. Pearly Girl wanted out of the carrier. Badly. My muck sweat from the walk doubled as I wrestled the now-squirming, flailing, wailing girly out of the Baby Bjorn. Then Superman got ants in his pants and would not hold still. After trying unsuccessfully to rock our Pearl and shush Superman, Papa stopped his prayers so I could hand Superman over to him. Then I took PG and left the sanctuary, mere minutes after we first had walked in.

I sat down on the pew in the narthex with the door to the sanctuary closed and began to feed PG. And I couldn't help it; the tears started pooling in my eyes and running down my cheeks. Why, I thought, why can't I just go into church and be able to sit quietly and hear your Word without interruption? All I wanted was to hear and remember your Passion. 

I could hear the quiet murmurs of Papa and the women praying the Litany. The soft, muffled cadence of their voices calmed me down, and I gradually just sat still and tried to remember the parts where I thought they were. After a few minutes, they came out of the church and stood by me for a few minutes. The boys, now quiet, went with Papa to the van.


"How is she?" one of the women asked gently, gesturing to PG.

"She's almost asleep now," I said. "I'm sorry about all the noise."

Before I could say anything else, all three of them shook their heads and started talking at once.

"They're no trouble--"

"No, don't you worry--"

But one of them spoke most firmly.

"Don't ever apologize for your children. They are a gift to us, and we are so, so happy to see them here. Always remember what a joy they, and you, are to us."

I was touched by her words and the obvious agreement all of them had for this woman's sentiments. In fact, I was overwhelmed. What I saw as burden and interruption, they saw as gift, total gift. What I saw as irritation and distraction, they saw as reminders of the abundance of God's grace.

That afternoon, I got an email from the same woman with the comment. She wrote:

Thank you both so much for taking the time today to worship with us.  It was a special service and I appreciate the focus during this time, especially as the work day passes, it’s wonderful to break away and focus on what matters in this life – salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord and the new life He brings!!

 I also want you both to understand, please never feel the need to say “I’m sorry” for those 3 blessings that you have in your children.  You cannot imagine the feeling of joy that I had when I heard Paul’s voice join in on the Lord’s Prayer.  Hands down, highlight of my day.  It’s always wonderful to have them there.  Both Nancy and I were so thrilled to see the wagon outside of the church when we arrived, and we were so thrilled to spend that time with your family – our church family!!  It speaks to the kind people that you are that you apologize, but I want you to know that you don’t have to.  There is absolutely no apology necessary, ever.  Children are to be in church, and we are SO GLAD that they can be at Our Saviours!!

Love, because of Him,

Linda

The subject of her email was "This was truly a Good Friday."

So often I forget what's important in this life. Yet in the midst of sweat (literally) and tears (literally, all around, everybody join in!), Christ comes. My agony might seem terrible, but it's nothing compared to what He bore for me. He came to bleed and sweat and cry and die on the cross for us so that we won't always. I thought I'd missed His Passion. But He brought it to me anyway, just in a way I hadn't expected. And His word, that does for me what I can't do for myself, keeps me always. For this I am eternally grateful, just as I am so incredibly grateful for the love He gives through women at our church who remind me of Him so steadfastly.

Happy Good Friday.

Newsworthy Rats

So Papa and I decided a few months ago to begin a subscription to The Wall Street Journal. We've done so in the past, but stopped them due to major, major delivery problems (like the paper not coming three days out of six) and budget issues. We love the paper; we just like getting it when it's not too much of a budget crunch or when we, you know, actually get it. We'll determine in the next few weeks if the current delivery practice of our unknown paper carrier continues (he or she lies to drive onto our front lawn to leave the paper on our porch. And in Minnesota midwinter, the tire tracks on the front lawn are a little, um, obvious and presumptuous. In other words, WHO DOES THAT?! We've tried to report him or her, but still the tracks remain. So it goes in rural America, at least here, with us, with this newspaper saga).

Now that this post has included so many parentheticals that you're wondering what the point it, it's this. One of the reasons we love getting a physical newspaper is because we can share it with the kids. Yes, they're young, and most of them can't read. But they like looking at the pictures and discussing them, and it's far more enjoyable to hold a paper newspaper than to read it online (or at least Papa and I think). So last week, when I read this article about rat-throwing at a local festival in Spain, I knew we had a winner. The boys loved the article, Little Professor so much so that he proceeded to read it out loud several times several days later. There's innocent glee when a five-year-old snickers as he reads, "Despite animal-rights activists' objections to the practice, locals last year once again threw caution to the wind—along with rodents." If this encourages my children to read and learn about the world, then I just might be able to tolerate the tire-tracks on the lawn--for a little while, at least.

Three years is long, fast time

Just about three years ago...

 

Now, our little boys are our "big" boys!

Thankful for His times given

Today, I give thanks for many things.

Mostly, I give thanks for my family--my messy, loud, amazing, ever-changing family. 

God knows the worth of what He gives far more than I ever could. 

So, take and use Thy work, 

Amend what flaws may lurk, 

What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim! 

My times be in Thy hand! 

Perfect the cup as planned! 

Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!

~From "Rabbi Ben Ezra" by Robert Browning

No Stress Chess

P loves puzzles. Loves them. He's done one-hundred-piece ones by himself since he was three, and lately he's wanted to tackle a one-hundred-fifty-piece irregular puzzle (with a little help). Awhile back someone made the comment to me that kids who like puzzles tend to like chess. Well, Papa and I don't know how to play, so I wondered how we could gift him a chess board and not be able to explain the rules.

Enter No Stress Chess. I found the game on Amazon, with all the requisite instructions and all-important reviews. We gambled on it and gave it to P for Christmas. And we found that this really is a no stress chess game!

Hmmmm...

Basically, the first level of the game involves drawing cards that explain what the pieces are and where they can move. The chess game largely becomes, in effect, a game of luck--you move a specific piece based on the card you draw for each move. And over time, you learn what each piece can do. Bishops can move diagonally as far as you want to take them. Kings can move one space in any direction. Knights can jump two any direction and one space down (or up). I have actually learned this from playing with P this month.

Well, P quickly caught on, and now he loves chess. Loves it. He asks us at least three times a day, "Can you play chess with me?" He enjoys playing so much that S started sitting on our laps and learning, too, because that's P's game of choice any given day, and that's the way S could be involved. Yesterday, S started identifying the pieces before I could touch them: "Here's the Queen." Today, I caught P playing by himself. He was only playing the black pieces, but still.

We--especially Papa--have really enjoyed bonding with P over this game. P's learning good sportsmanship, strategy, and the thrills of learning something unfamiliar. And it's really relaxing to play: slow, thoughtful, methodical. (Papa and I like to do it as a break, so P usually doesn't have to beg too hard.) And educational! What's not to love? So kiss your stress goodbye--play some chess!

Hmmmm...

"How about this one, Daddy?"

"I think I'll move here."

Daddy explaining chess board consequences.

P: "Mom! Why don't you play?" Papa: I think I can checkmate...

Number Math and Photography

In our lesson time, P and I recently started tackling simple addition, or as he put it at first, number math. Recently I had the camera out, and I snapped some shots of him working and thinking. Then he said, "Can I take some pictures, Mommy?" So here's a compilation of our views.

Hmmmm.

"...five..."

"Nine! But I wrote a 'P'!" We both laughed ourselves silly.

My makeshift lesson record. P doesn't sticker it up so much anymore, but he's sure moving along.

"I want to take pictures of my monster trucks!"

"I've gotta get the SIDE, Mama."

"Now I have to get THIS one."

Realizing the last one was too close, P carefully moved it back and tried again.

Aaaaa!

And our self-portrait. Mama and Son. Good times.

Micellaneous Milestones

Since my last post, we've had some busy times! Here's a brief update.

Papa attended a Doxology seminar in Nebraska, where he learned about the devil and his wily ways from Dr. John Kleinig. He, and several pastors from our circuit, greatly enjoyed their time together (scrumptious food enhanced their experience, I've heard) learning about how to beat down the Evil One. The boys are into superheroes and "getting bad guys," so I'm still stewing about how to make a connection for them with this.

We celebrated my birthday with my lovely mother here (who also enormously helped out with the kids while Papa was away)! Turning 31 feels great, in a very achieving gravitas kind of way (especially when you leave sentences like this dangling for a week on your blog. I am FULL OF GRAVITAS. :)) And thanks for the "Happy '29th' Birthday" card from my brother, who's unofficially moved me into the "older person" stage. :) The boys spontaneously sang me "Happy Birthday," which brought me to tears. Little C shrieked and grinned, which brought me joy. Papa bought me a beautiful card and some pretty earrings--and the boys helped with both! I'm very thankful for all the wishes and cards and gifts; truly, my cup overfloweth.

Papa presented on "Family Matters" at an LWML Fall Rally at our church, which I was able to attend (thanks, Mom!). It was great visiting with many women, singing for the group, and even participating in a skit without knowing what I'd have to say or do ahead of time. Let me just say that Mrs. L.E. is hilarious and utterly trustworthy! Papa's presentation was fantastic, too--as he's prepared for this, he's helped me prioritize our children's spiritual care (more on this in another post). That's always a "win, win, win," as I teasingly tell the kids.

P's reading. I mean really reading. While he phonetically sounds out words sometimes, many times he just looks at them now and just says 'em. No help. Just the other day, he brought me a baseball thing and said, "Does this say, 'Get in the game'?" Yep. You read that right, buddy. So his "Letter Lessons" have been really fun! We just started Section Eight of The Ordinary Parent's Guide to Teaching Reading, so we're about halfway through that book. He's been practicing holding a pencil correctly with the help of a gripper, and we'll start a formal writing program soon, mostly because he keeps bugging me about learning how to write more than just his name. Hey--I'm not complaining!

P and I have also been doing "Math" (or what he sometimes calls "Number Math"), where he practices counting to 100 on the abacus or I write simple addition on our white board and he figures them out by counting dots. The first time we tried this a week or so ago, he literally quivered with excitement. "Mom, I just love this!" he said at least three times. I had to quell thoughts of him, at nine, performing complicated equations with a dry-erase pen on a window (I saw some news segment on a young math whiz years ago who'd do that). So far, I'm just glad he thinks it's all fun. We'll be starting weekly science and history lessons in the next month, too.

S has developed into a tackling machine. Not out of any desire to hurt stems his sudden pouncing; he's just a really physical kid. He's been giving hugs a lot, which is fantastic! I just find myself bruised more frequently. We're working on his gentleness around C, because while she laughs and grins every time he "hugs" (see: pushes, sits on, drags) her, we don't want any trips to the ER. He also is still our little singer. Last week, while he and P played in the leaves, we caught him yelling--YELLING--the Stephen Starke version of the Lord's Prayer. He also randomly bursts into song, sometimes mid-sentence. He also regales us with random comments, like the one just recently when I was helping him in the bathroom: "Mommy, I won't poop on you." I was so relieved to hear that! :) Yesterday we heard him walk into the living room and see something P had done, and he goes, "WOW! A-MAAAAAZ-ING!" His enthusiasm is contagious!

C is testing the waters with walking! She'll pull herself up by a chair or something and then let go--and stand for a second or two by herself. She's definitely thinking about letting go and taking steps (believe us, we can see that look on her face). She's also starting this cheesy-grin/grimace thing. It's so big, it looks like it hurts her face, and we can't help smiling every time she does it! She's a happy little girl. She's eating table food all the time now, and in a month or so we'll start introducing whole milk already. *Sigh.* My baby's not really a baby anymore! P will play with her by himself, and he just loves her, and she him. It's great to see their sibling relationship develop. S and C are still at the "NO, C! That's MINE!" or the sitting-on-her stage. S loves her; he just doesn't want her in his stuff. I admit I dream that someday S and C will have a Jackson/Johannah relationship (that's a Duggar reference, for those of you who don't know).

We've enjoyed jumping in the leaves! And tracking them inside. :)

And a decluttering update: I've cleaned out the laundry room (!!!) and gone through about five bins of micellany besides. I've still got about ten to go, but it's all consolidated, and I've just been plugging away at it whenever we're watching something at night, like the St. Louis Cardinals play during this postseason. Between a clean and not-cluttered laundry room and the Cards, life is good right there.

Autumn, Indoors: Puzzle-Solving, Cookie-Baking, Mess-Making Kids

I wish you could smell the chocolate-chip cookies in here.

I know that we're still hours away from the official beginning of fall, but we here at the Olson homestead have been soaking in the burnished, haunting, twirling, dancing, corn-stalked, melancholy vibes of the season that William Cullen Bryant (absolutely no relation to that vampire clan) called "the year's last, loveliest smile."  I know; my enthusiasm for autumn is a little hard to read. I'll try to kick it up a notch.

The other day, as golden rays streamed through our home's west-facing front, the kids and I enjoyed a nice afternoon. Some learning, baking, and growing took place. Learning--as P is doing by leaps and bounds--plus baking--which S lovedy-loves--plus growing--all three spurt up, but little C fastest of all--this all amidst a vivid autumnal palate of scarlet, sunshine, and cerulean. Okay, I'll cut out the overwrought prose (overwrought for a blog post, I mean). Though we were inside, we cherished the brisk wind through the open windows, the fun of matching puzzle pieces, the yummy crunchy-soft cookies, the feel of fuzzy carpet on cool bare toes. Here ya'll go!

P attacked the number puzzle and solved it all by himself. Yeah, he's reading well.

S showing off the mixer tongs he's licking. 'Cause he helped BAKE! Yeeaah!

Too cute for words! Even the ones in the books and magazines C just pulled onto the floor.

And I've got teeth and can crawl, too!

Late Summer Moments

Yesterday, I took a few pictures of some sweet summer moments. After the last few weeks of convalescence--somehow I got strep, but luckily, Papa and the kids didn't--the quiet normalcy of watching our sons and our daughter was a gift. P pulled out a great two-fer, completing his first self-portrait and writing his name by himself with no prompting. Then he "framed" it on the refrigerator with letter magnets. I had to capture his dual masterpiece for posterity.

As I snapped that picture, C babbled on the floor next to me. She's sitting up by herself now, balancing very well, and a few times a day she even pulls herself up--to look into the bathtub at her brothers, to try to grab books off of a shelf. I've been telling people that even though she's a baby, she's not a baby anymore. Today, as Papa and I rocked on the front porch with C, watching the boys pedal on tricycles on the walk, C reached for me as Papa held her. She looked directly into my face and said, "Ma-ma." We were both moved. Especially when, with a little prompting, she looked at her father and said, "Pa-pa."

I couldn't pick just one. I mean, could you?

After such great pictures of C on the floor, I just had to run outside and capture the boys in action. Our back deck is finally gone--it was old, with a crimped design, and we've wanted a patio for years. Anyway, as I walked out of the back, this is what I saw.

Then I found the boys in the tomato patch, wearing their swimming trunks. Because where else do boys go in their swimming trunks than in the tomato patch?

P and S told me they were pretending the tomato patch was a forest. So there you go.

Papa's been canning consistently these last few weeks--salsa, medium and super-hot, and tomatoes in their own juice--and yet the tomatoes keep coming. August, particularly late August, is tomatoes, I think. Especially Papa's tomatoes.

The boys finally made it over to their swimming pool. Most of their toys spend more time in their pool than they do. Lately they've enjoyed playing in the dirt where the deck was after they get wet. Ah, the joys of children playing!

Happy end of summer, dear ones. May you enjoy a few lovely moments in these waning warm days.