When you are two years old, you get away with things that you don’t when you are three years old. Jenny, who has more than half a year left until her third birthday, is milking this fact for all it’s worth. But this morning, I’d really had enough.

Every morning, it’s the same thing. She wants a pancake (the frozen kind I’d never touch, but the kids eat up). She wants syrup. She takes 2 bites and then gets distracted and leaves the table. She comes back 5 minutes later and all the syrup is gone. Yes, it’s been sucked up into the pancake, but she doesn’t understand that. When you are 2, your life experiences (or lack thereof) limit your intelligence…and reasonable and rational are not appropriate adjectives to apply to any toddler.

So she asks for more syrup. Lacking the stamina to argue with her, I give her more syrup. Repeat the above steps, and 5 minutes later she wants more. After that, she usually has eaten most of the pancake or decides she’d rather have Cheerios. This morning though, she wanted more and more and wasn’t even waiting for the syrup to be sucked up into the pancake. She just kept arguing with me and crying and pointing to spots that were dripping with syrup and saying she needed more right there can’t you see the dry spot, mommy?

I finally said no more. And walked away from her. She sat there for quite a while crying. I began to pray that she was sick, so I could give her an excuse for such deplorable behavior. Then I thought about how miserable I would be if she were sick, and retracted that prayer. She seems fine now. And the uneaten pancake is forgotten. She’ll probably ask for Cheerios soon and ask for milk, and more milk, and more milk (the Cheerios aren’t covered yet, mommy…they’re floating, dear…no, mommy, more milk!).

We’re
very very busy
and we’ve got a lot to do
and we haven’t got a minute
to explain it all to you
for on SundayMondayTuesday
there are people we must see
and on WednesdayThursdayFriday
we’re as busy as can be
with our most important meetings
and our most important calls
and we have to do so many things
and post them on the walls.

Then
we have to hurry to the south
and then we hurry north
and we’re talking every minute
as we hurry back and forth
and we have to hurry to the east
and then we hurry west
and we’re talking every minute
and we don’t have time to rest
and we have to do it faster
or it never will be done
and we have no time for listening
or anything that’s fun.

– from the Philadelphia Chickens CD by Sandra Boynton

OK, my life is not that bad. But it is a jam packed weekend.

Most days all my kids are up by 8 am. Most days 4 out of 5 kids are up by 7 am (Katie has always been a late sleeper). Today, I had 2 kids up by 7 am and Billy only just joined us moments ago at 815 am. It’s a slow start.

Normally I really like them to sleep until after 7 am. I’m up by 530, so I can get stuff done. But today, Bill went in late since he has to work late (it’s Friday, you know, and that seems to be his new routine for Fridays – working past 6 pm). I’m happy that at least he’s going in later than normal: the previous 2 Fridays he left before 6 am as usual and didn’t come home until after 7 pm. And I thought that at least he’d be able to spend a few minutes with the kids in the morning. Silly me. I had no idea they would actually sleep in today of all days.

So Jenny and Fritz had Dad all to themselves. It was nice. Bill was sitting in the big chair-and-a-half and Jenny climbed on his lap. Then I saw there was just enough room for me next to him, so I cuddled in. Then Fritz jumped on top. And we watched a few minutes of the Wiggles – why not? – before Bill decided it was time to go. It was a few minutes of that quiet peace (except for the singing of the Wiggles, but I keep the volume pretty low) that I love so much. Just being together. Just enjoying a few minutes with no pressure to go somewhere, do something or rush along. Just sit, snuggle and thank God for each other.

I’m teaching myself to play the piano. Since the only person I’m trying to impress is myself, I’m doing great.

Last night, I told Bill that I could play the piano for an hour every day – easily. It’s fun.

He gave me a very sarcastic look and said, “So could I. But it’s not my job – either.”

Ouch.

I wonder if he’ll ever believe me again when I tell him that Petey wouldn’t let me put him down all day and that’s why dinner isn’t ready…

Today is the anniversary of the executions of Hans Scholl, Sophie Scholl, and Christoph Probst who were half of the group called the White Rose. The White Rose was a German Resistance group during World War II.

Hans and his sister Sophie were caught leaving anti-war leaflets in a lecture hall at the University of Munich and Christoph was arrested the next day. They were all executed a few hours after being found guilty of treason.

I read this brief account of their life. It has no sources cited, so take it for what it’s worth. It has no obvious inaccuracies, although I’m hardly an expert. I liked this part:

By a miracle the parents had a last opportunity to see their children. They
saw Hans first. Robert embraced him saying, ‘You will go down in history. There is another justice than this.’ Hans asked them to say farewell to his friends, and only when he mentioned one name very special to him did he weep, bowing his head so that no one should see. Sophie, when her turn came, accepted some little cakes that her brother had refused, saying, ‘Lovely. I didn’t get anything to eat at lunchtime.’ She looked wonderful, fresh and full of life. Her mother said, ‘I’ll never see you come through the door again.’ ‘Oh mother,’ she answered, ‘after all, it’s only a few years’ more life I’ll miss.’ She was pleased and proud that they had betrayed no one, that they had taken all the responsibility on themselves. Her main concern was that her mother should be able to withstand the deaths of two children at the same time. But, for herself, she was completely composed.

Of course, no one really knows how they would act under certain circumstances, but I always felt that I would have been a Sophie Scholl had I been living in Germany at the time. I always saw my brother Pete working with me too. And, yes, I saw myself losing my head over the whole thing, literally, just as they did. Oh, I think I would have eaten the little cakes too.

And this part struck me as interesting for our current political situation:

It was striking to see with what incisiveness and logic Sophie saw how things would develop, for she was warm-hearted and full of feeling, not cold and calculating. Here is an example: in winter 1941-42 there was a big propaganda campaign in Germany to get the people to give sweaters and other warm woolen clothing to the Army. German soldiers were at the gates of Leningrad and Moscow in the middle of a winter war for which
they weren’t prepared …Sophie said, ‘We’re not giving anything.’ I had just got back from the Russian Front… I tried to describe to her how conditions were for the men, with no gloves, pullovers or warm socks. She stuck to her viewpoint relentlessly and justified it by saying, ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s German soldiers who are freezing to death or Russians, the case is equally terrible. But we must lose the war. If we contribute warm clothes, we’ll be extending it.’

I think of how today so many people say that they oppose the war in Iraq, but support the troops. This makes no sense to me. How can you support the troops if you think they are engaged in what is often called an immoral war? Should the German people have supported their troops during WWII? Or should they have let them freeze, as Sophie felt they should?

I am really happy to be in Week 22 of the school year. The schedule I follow is 32 weeks long, so we’re more than 2/3 through. I can’t wait for school to be done.

I often have people ask me about homeschooling. It’s hard not to notice that I do, when I have all of my kids with me during the day. Most days, we stay home doing schoolwork, but occasionally we venture out, usually for milk. Thankfully, around here, lots of families homeschool, so I don’t feel too odd.

But when asked about homeschooling, generally from someone who is considering homeschooling or someone who perhaps feels guilty that they aren’t homeschooling or someone who thinks that I think they should homeschool, I assure them that it is a lot of work and things like cooking dinner or cleaning the house can not take priority. It’s really not for everybody, and I don’t think anybody should feel guilty if they send their kids off to the public indoctrination center, er, public school. {No, SERIOUSLY, I’m just trying to be funny.}

It is so hard, in fact, that I love any excuse to cancel school for the day. Don’t tell the kids this, since they are convinced that I really enjoy sitting with them for hours on end as they whine about having to copy 5 measly sentences with neat handwriting and proper punctuation. I am such a slave driver. So, I love it when we take the day to go to a museum or take the week because of a holiday. The only bad thing about this is that I have voluntarily chained myself to this 32 week curriculum and I MUST get it done. ALL of it. So when we take one day off, I try really hard to cram all that missed work into the rest of the week. That way, the weeks won’t run into the next one and we’ll finish the school year in a reasonable amount of time.

So the poor kids are regularly working like dogs to play catch up if we take a break. Making it necessary to take another break because we’ve been working so hard, making it necessary to work even harder, and so on and so on…

I am getting a little bit better and starting to omit some things on the to-do list. The redundancy of some tasks is only useful if done on different days (in other words, 15 minutes of piano practice per day is better than 90 minutes once a week and 90 minutes of “Ode to Joy” will make you despise Beethoven).

And maybe next year, I will take the 32 week curriculum and immediately number the DAYS and think in terms of DAY 63, DAY 64 instead of WEEK 19, WEEK 20.

Bill told a big whopper last night: “I had a good time today.”

We went to the National Gallery of Art. I had a great time. It was a bit difficult: besides our 5 kids, we had our guest. Our kids were pumped up to go. I had printed a sheet with 13 works of art on it. The kids were on a scavenger hunt for these paintings. They had seen postcard-sized prints of most of these paintings and I had downloaded all of them to my screensaver a few weeks ago, so they had seen them flash by all day long. We talked about the art. They had tried to copy the art. When they would find a painting on their list they would be so excited I thought my own heart would burst.

Our ADHD guest was not as thrilled to be in a museum. The rules of talk quietly, no running, no climbing, no touching and the rooms with nothing in them except maybe a couch (oh, and some things hanging on the wall) combined to make him wish he were anywhere else. Bill made the mistake of threatening to take him out of there, so he then proceeded to try to earn this reward. Bill missed the Duerer Madonna because he was eating crow in an atrium for a bit.

Bill also didn’t like that the security guards felt the need to stay within 5 feet of our group at all times, mainly because our ADHD guest looked like a loose cannon. I didn’t notice this, but Bill insisted it was true. Perhaps he’s paranoid…or maybe I just get those looks so often I don’t even notice it any more.

Anyway, we saw all but one of the pictures on our list. We missed an Audobon, and I’m really sorry for that. We’ll have to go back. We ran out of time and ended up blowing through a whole section of the museum on the way to find one Da Vinci (“oh, was that a Botticelli? maybe next time….”). I almost blew off three other paintings. We were eating pizza in the cafeteria and I suggested to Bill that we eat and then head home. Fritz had a piano lesson at 1:30 pm and Jenny was approaching nap time. Fritz heard us and said, “But Mom, I really wanted to see Homer. That’s my favorite.” What’s a mom to do? We saw Homer, Picasso and Miro and then ran home.

That part, when Fritz expressed excitement and desire to see a painting, was the best part. Next best was Jenny, only 2 years old, saying TWICE, “There, Mom” and pointing to one of the paintings on the list. And then at dinner last night, we all discussed which paintings we liked best and talked about various techniques and themes and stuff…now that was really cool.

I love field trips.

Situation: 5 year old guest spending the night at our house. He and Billy will sleep on the floor of the boys’ room. Billy has 2 pillows and offers one to the guest. The guest wants the OTHER pillow. The coveted pillow has a hand-painted cover on it that says “Billy”. I tell him that it is Billy’s special pillow and has his name on it. He begins to cry. Fritz offers his special pillow which is identical to Billy’s pillow, except that it says “Fritz” instead of “Billy.” This alternative is not acceptable to him and he continues to cry.

Which lesson is more important here?: that MY son learn that accomodating a guest is a polite thing to do? or that the guest learn that some things are simply not for sharing?

Solution: do not invite children who have no siblings over for a slumber party.

Ain’t she nice?
Look her over once or twice.
Now I ask you very confidentially,
Ain’t she nice?

My new wheels. It’s in Texas right now, purchased on eBay. It’ll probably take a few weeks to get here. The only thing I don’t like is the color – but there are worse colors.

Admit it, you’re jealous. haha

I never thought I’d drive a MINI-VAN, let alone a 12 passenger behemoth.

I wouldn’t mind Jenny getting up before the crack of dawn so much, if only she woke up in a cheerful mood. Well, she wakes up cheerful, but then proceeds to be crabby for the next 2 hours.

And here’s where, once more, I promise myself a nap this afternoon, but I know that it just won’t happen.