Math

Emma and math.  She would be the first to tell you she hates it.  When she was home schooled (Sigh.  Let me have a moment of silence...I miss my girl.) she complained loudly and often about math. 

Last night she bemoaned the fact that she had a math packet to complete for homework.  And when Emma decides to protest and grumble there's no match for her.  The girl has skills.  She seated herself in the living room (her favorite place to do homework lately...could be because I've completely claimed her school room desk as my own and her books/papers/art projects have taken up permanent residence on her bedroom desk). 

After a while she said to me, "Mom, I think I can appreciate equivalent fractions.  I don't love them, but I have come to appreciate them."

What I love and appreciate?  Being privy to the bizarre and unpredictable things my children say.  It's a delight to be their mother.

Even when you consider their messy rooms.

Which had better be less messy by day's end.

Because my parents and grandma are coming to town.

(A nephew too but I don't think he cares if the rooms are clean.)

Seeker

Knowledge is of two kinds.  We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information on it.

Samuel Johnson

Sometimes I need help--help of any and every kind.  Sometimes I don't know the answers I seek.  Happily I have a tribe.  They are accessible to me and always help.  Yesterday I talked to Janet, Stephanie, Olivia, Marianne and my mom about this particular dilemma.  (Phew!)

They all listened/validated/advised/understood.

Last night I talked to Tabor.  (He's definitely in the top three of my favorite brothers.)  I love talking to Tabor.  (Once my dad said he couldn't imagine how a conversation between Tabor and me would work on the phone.  He said, "You both talk all the time."  Rude.)

Tabor listened to my discourse (and didn't even mind when I cried a little).

He said (carefully), "Are you wanting to tell me how you're feeling or are you wanting to know what I think?"

"Tell me what you think," I said.

So he did.

He has way more wisdom than someone who I remember holding on the couch when he was an infant so my mom could make dinner should.  He has had experiences that have honed his character and the good sense to learn from them.  He also (kindly) told me things like, "it's not about you" and "you have to realize how it is and be OK with it."

I don't think anyone in this world could say those kinds of things to me without making me feel defensive/offended/prickly.  Somehow it works for him.

Then he told me what I was doing right.  What I had done in the past that was good.  He complimented me.  I know he loves me.  (And I love him.) 

Then he reminded me of what I already know.

He said to pray.

He promised me I'd get answers.

And I know the same.  Being a seeker is all part of the game I guess.  I'm so glad to have helpers along the way.

Twitter Tweet Twitter

I don't tweet (I don't twitter?).  I don't even know how to say it...

But if I did, here's what I'd tweet/twitter.  Because they're just short little bits and because Mark cracks me up and because this is like a journal/family history for me and because I want to remember.

*********************

Yesterday we were driving and listening (as is our custom) to The House on Plum Creek.  Laura and Mary were jumping on Pa's haystack even though they'd been told not to.  From the back seat Mark was squirming and groaning.  I said, "Are you OK Mark?" 

He shuddered and said, "I think you should turn this off."

I said, "It's OK."

Then something dawned on Mark and his quirky little brain.  He said, "Actually, I guess we can keep listening.  I'm not going to get into trouble."

Do you think he has a guilty conscience?

*********************

Last night on the way home from basketball practice, Mark asked me how many points had been scored in their little scrimmage.  I admitted I didn't know.  He said, "Well maybe if you didn't read.  And I wouldn't even mind as much if someone else came to the practice and could tell you all the good things I did."

(One of the great compensations for basketball practice is that I can read during it.)

I apologized to Mark.  I didn't know he cared if I watched his practices.  In my defense I said, "I don't read during your games."

He said imperiously, "They're the same."

Do you think he considers himself the center of the world?

Because yeah, he kind of is.


(I think these are longer than tweets should be...another reason why I'll stick to my blogging where I can be as verbose and wearisome as I wish.)

Vocabulary

Last week at dinner I overheard the following conversation...

Braeden:  I haven't had a coherent dream since I've been sick.

Emma (acting very over-the-top dramatic and Emma-like):  You know what coherent means?!?  I don't know what coherent means!  (turning to me)  What does coherent mean?

Mark:  (muttering under his breath):  Do you know what creepy means?

He's not exactly appreciative of over-the-top dramatics.

We like words around here though.  New words are delightful on the tongue and fun to use.  Even when we're not 100% sure of the meaning.  Or the word.

Our kids were intrigued the other day by Adam's use of the word oxymoron and tried to incorporate it into their vocabulary.

Last night Braeden, in an elaborate and witty description of something or other, tried out oxymoron.

Except he called it citrusoxide which made his story funnier.  And for Braeden, funny is more important than accurate so we were all happy.

As Time Goes By

Time is an equal opportunity employer.  Each human being has exactly the same number of hours and minutes every day.  Rich people can't buy more hours.  Scientists can't invent new minutes.  And you can't save time to spend it on another day.  Even so, time is amazingly fair and forgiving.  No matter how much time you've wasted in the past, you still have an entire tomorrow. 

~Denis Waitely

Pulling out a new calendar, full of possibility and empty days to be filled is always exciting for me.  I like New Year's Day.  As much work as it all is, I love packing up Christmas in boxes and sliding them in the closet under my stairs.  I love the spare lightness that's left in the rooms, like empty calendar days and clean slates.

The thought of reentry to busy school schedules and the like seems a little bleak but there are things to be learned.  There are lessons in kindness and patience and self discipline that need to be mastered by yours truly.  I have my work cut out for me, but lovely tomorrows are ready and waiting.

Year In Review

Gifts

Gifts are my love language.  I feel like that's a little bit despicable as love languages go...but There it Is.  I love gifts.  I love to give gifts.  I love to get gifts.

Here are some favorites (besides the weather book) of this Christmas...and something to remember besides the sickness...

poor sick baby

1. Emma made Adam a die out of clay and a card with the following instructions:

Every day, roll the die to get a number.  Follow the instructions on the square with the same number.  You can only use this once a day, or we would all be your slaves 24/7!  Also, please don't wake anyone up at 2 a.m. to give you a massage.  You should also have a witness.  You may say you have a 5, but you could really have a 6.  Don't you love how little rules there are?

Love,

Emma

1: receive one free back massage from family member of choice

2: have two family member of choice do a job for you

3: sing three songs of choice with all of family

4: receive four five-minute massages throughout the day by family member of choice

5: have all five Davis family play board game of choice

6: receive six hugs from family member of choice

Adam was reading this list aloud and Braeden, from his near deathbed on the couch croaked, "Wait a minute...I didn't agree to this.  I didn't agree to any of this."

I particularly liked number 5 because Emma is constantly on the prowl for someone to play a board game with her and usually no one is willing.

She's tricky and sly.  (And sweet.)


2. My parents always send us a generous check for Christmas (thank you!) but I always enjoy even more the small package that comes in the mail a few days before Christmas.  Here's what was in the package this year:

Inside were copies of all the letters we'd written to Santa on Christmas Eve (since 1974!).  Every year, to our delight and entertainment, our dad would write the letter to Santa (and he hardly ever wrote what we wanted him to write).

Every year Santa answered our letter.

Santa's writing is really close to our mother's handwriting (and usually included motherly advice like admonishments to share and be good).


The binder of Santa letters is a treasure to me.

3. I was lucky to have Olivia draw our family's name this year.  (And lucky enough to have Jennifer live near Olivia so she could help her with our gift.)  Olivia made us this book:

You might recognize some of the pictures (she took them from my blog):

That Olivia...isn't she something?

3. Talking to my family on Christmas Day is one of my best presents every year.

It was a lovely Christmas with lovely gifts. I don't want to brag (oh, I know, I don't mind bragging) but Emma and I are whizzes on the handbells Adam gave me.  We rock Mary Had a Little Lamb like you've never heard it before. 

And I haven't even mentioned Janet's chocolate covered cherries which deserve their own category...