Blog Update from Darren

I haven’t updated my blog list to the left in far too long, but today I’m going to try.

I’m deleting the following:
Ben Domenech – unfortunately, doesn’t update very often.
Ignatius Insight – I just got bored with it.
That They May Be One – ditto.
The Onion Dome – didn’t update frequently enough.
Ancient and Future Catholics – wasn’t as interesting since the authors converted to Roman Catholicism.
Church of the Masses – decided there were others that were more interesting.
The View from the Foothills – ditto.

I’m keeping the rest, including Dawn Eden’s blog, which is still one of my favorites. However, I have to change my original description “If you’re a Catholic, you may not like Dawn Eden.” A lousy job of prognosticating there; Dawn joined the Catholic Church this Easter.

I'm adding one. My brother Evan, a pastor in New Hampshire, has just started his own blog. Hurray!

Mundania VII

* The Memorial Day weekend was full. A wedding, an Eagle Scout ceremony, a visit from Aunt Lindsay, and rubbing shoulders with such bright stars of the blogging world like Meredith and Jane and Jackson (and their parents).

* Courtney S (nee H) was a lovely bride, but many of her older friends still harbor a sneaking suspicion that there's no way she's old enough to get married. Last I checked she was about fifteen. Come to think of it, that was five or six years ago, but it shouldn't make that much of a difference, should it? Good heavens, I'm about to run full-tilt into 30 myself. When do these things happen?

* Memorial Day itself, in reaction, was aggressively low-key. We stayed at home, cleaned the house, played "Age of Mythology," and in the afternoon trekked all the way across the street to cook out with the neighbors. All the Joneses arrived at the Shaws' barefoot.

* Darren and I set out the Slip-n-Slide for the kids, and I pulled out our folding chairs -- gifts from my in-laws -- so we could sit on the porch. It was hours later before I realized that, on Memorial Day, we were prominently displaying chairs emblazoned with the Canadian maple leaf.

* I officially began homeschooling Addie yesterday, using Sonlight curriculum. She's an eager student, while Stuart hangs on the edges and listens, not wanting to be tied down to actually participating. All Addie wanted to do yesterday was read her Science book, a colorful Usborne book entitled Finding Out About Everyday Things: "Now we're going to do some more school." "Can we do Science?" "We already did that. How about if we do some reading?" "Yes! And then some Science."

* We bought a Canasta card set at a yard sale, and the last two nights have learned how to play it. One of the reasons I appreciate Darren is that he never pulls punches when we play: he always tries his hardest to beat me. It's ironic that it irritates the heck of out me to be beaten (yet again!) by Darren Jones.

* My kids don't have a swimming pool. So I drew upon a childhood experience, and filled up the wheelbarrow for them. At least I didn't take my brothers' youthful example, and use a garbage can.

-- SJ

Announcement Not My Own

Like Rachelle, I wonder about the protocol of announcing someone else's engagement on my own blog. But I figure, the engagee doesn't have her own blog, and besides, what else do you do with news this good?

Congratulations to Dana Robinson and Brooks Lampe on their recent engagement, which is by no means sudden or startling but certainly satisfying.

I'm thinking... maybe if I find a dress that I'm reasonably sure will fit me directly after pregnancy (trying to judge while nine months pregnant, of course), and if I find a tasteful baby sling in coordinating colors, maybe I can still serve in the wedding party. Wouldn't that look darling in the pictures? Plus the other benefits:

Bishop: "And do you, Dana, take Brooks..."

Brand-New Jones Baby (about four feet away): "WAHHHH!"

Dana and Brooks: "Wait, reality is intruding a little too harshly here. Can we step out and discuss this some more?"

Looking forward to the day!

-- SJ

Mothers In Balance

I'm probably one of the luckiest women living, in that I have a wonderful mother and equally wonderful mother-in-law. Both of them are important to my growth as a person and a mother, which is actually rather funny because they're very different women. I was comparing them in my head the other day, and the list comes out looking like "How to Use Your Mothers To Balance Your Life."

My mother is reserved, to the point that she indimidates people because she doesn't chat and chatter.
My mother-in-law will talk to anyone, anywhere.

My mother-in-law heaps praise upon me, so I'm always guaranteed to feel good about myself after talking with her.
My mother laughs me out of my conceits.

My mother can't watch a movie without pointing out flaws in the script.
My mother-in-law rewinds scenes just to enjoy them more fully.

My mother-in-law likes to talk out issues so that they're resolved and everyone understands everyone else.
My mother assumes I'll just get over it.

My mother, as a dessert, would be a lemon pie: sweet, but rather tart, and no fluffy meringue on top.
My mother-in-law, as a dessert, would be trifle: lots of sweetness, some good gooey filling, and no-nonsense cake bits to keep everything together.

And both of them love me, probably in excess of what I actually deserve.

-- SJ

Of Books (and not a post by DJ, amazingly)

The book I mentioned in my previous post is called "Strapped," written by Tamara Draut. I'm not very far into it -- mostly, I'm afraid, because of an inferiority complex. I'm basically a knee-jerk conservative, meaning that I know all the right positions but can't really tell you why they're better than what The Liberals say. The author of this book is definitely A Liberal, so reading her perspective makes me uneasy, but I know I couldn't actually discuss it intelligently. In most cases like this, I'd tackle Darren and have him explain things to me; but he's been racing to finish his seminary work for this month, and hasn't been available for wifely instruction. (As a side note, isn't it charmingly Victorian of me to need my husband to explain the workings of the world to me?)

So, not surprisingly, I've gotten through only the introduction and first chapter or two. Just finished her overview of what she calls the "debt-for-diploma" system, otherwise known as America's higher education. She places heavy blame on the government for not adjusting grants to meet current tuition demands. But what she never addresses is why tuition is so darn high in the first place. I'm sure there are both good and bad reasons for it. If she's going to complain about the cost of college, and how it cuts out lower incomes and minorities, and how they can't get grants to help them through college without debilitating debt, shouldn't she at least ask why it's so expensive in the first place?

That aside, that chapter at least confirmed how glad I am that neither Darren nor I "went by the playbook" as far as college is concerned. Certainly, Darren's choice of Oak Brook, and my choice not to attend college at all, is limiting, both professionally and socially. And I don't deny that there lurks the dark specter of what I will do to support myself and the kids if Darren is ever unable to do so. But since neither of us find school enjoyable enough to pursue degrees merely for the intellectual rewards, and neither of us have very driving career ambitions, college for us would have been an expensive security blanket. Also, I'm speaking as one to whom God has been enormously good: Darren is able to work at a job he loves, and I'm able to stay home with the kids, and we aren't dedicating 20 percent of every paycheck to student loans.

***

Other books I've read lately have confirmed other opinions of mine. I love Dorothy Sayers' writing: but I've decided I really dislike murder mysteries, even hers. For one thing -- and I know this is squeamish of me -- I hate the fact that somebody always dies. But mostly I find the search for clues, interviews, theories, and constant rehashing of the crime extremely tedious. I nearly couldn't finish "Five Red Herrings." On the other hand, her novel "Gaudy Night," while just as tedious in the murder mystery aspect, had some very deep character studies in it that I didn't even begin to absorb. I wouldn't mind if she'd just dropped the murder and concentrated on the character studies, but I doubt that would have sold as well.

***

An interesting find recently has been "A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare," detailing the events of the year 1599, during which Shakespeare wrote some of his best-known plays. After reading the book -- which didn't treat Shakespeare as just lower than the angels, but did communicate a real enthusiasm for his work -- I even started on Hamlet itself. I've realized that my tolerance for poetic dialogue has stretched enormously during the last few years. At this rate, Darren be able to sit and read poetry to me someday.

***
During my latest excursion to the library, I was evidently in a morbid frame of mind. I checked out three books (all YA, of course): one was a ghost story; one was an "imagined true story" of a religious cult in 1900s Corvallis, OR (which naturally caught my eye, D&R); and the last is some futuristic dystopia, set in a world whose population has been decimated by a deadly Flu. I need to go read some Wodehouse.

-- SJ

Tell Me A Story (Here's Your Outline)

When I began blogging, I resolved that I wouldn't fill the page with stories about my kids. Just a few here and there to season an otherwise austere collection of book discussions, name reports, and enthusiastic, half-formed opinions. But my resolve is crumbling around the edges as Addie and Stuart continually produce blog-worthy material. Here are a couple more such stories, and then I promise I'll blog about the book I'm reading on "why America's 20- and 30-somethings can't get ahead."


Note: I yet again remind the reading public that "Age of Mythology" flavors most imaginative excursions in this household.

***
Stuart crawled up in Darren's lap and said, "Will you tell me a story?"

"Yes."

"A story about ten gatherers and one archer who tells them that a frost giant is knocking down their house."

Darren looked at me. "Have you told him a story like this already?"

"Oh, no," I answered. "The kids are like editors, who send down the plot outline. You're the writer who fills in the details."

"All right, Frank W. Dixon, here's the story."

"About ten gatherers."

"Yes."

"And one archer and a frost giant."

"Right."

"And berry bushes."

"Okay, let me get started. Once, a long time ago..."

"There were ten gatherers."

"Right. I'm getting to that. Once, a long time ago, it was morning. There were ten gatherers who got up to work."

"And there was an archer and a frost giant."

"I'm not there yet!"

And I left the room, with Darren still laboring to meet the high editorial standards expected of modern daddies.

***

Addie asked for a bedtime story. "About 100 scouts and 100 treasure houses."

Darren complied, but downsized the treasure-house cast for convenience. He told about two treasure houses, and how the scouts split up 50-50 to each house and got all the treasure. Then they went away and the two treasure houses disappeared.

Addie was quiet, thinking. "Where did the treasure houses go?"

"It's a mystery," Darren said, very Eastern Christian-like.

More thinking. Then, "What happened to the other 98?"

-- SJ

T is for Testosterone

My method of teaching Addie to read went as follows: "'A' says 'aaa.' 'EA' together says 'eee.' Oh, that's a funny 'C' -- it sounds like 'S' here." She'd adapt to the new rule and go on, so that by this time she's sounding out easy-read books with halting, but real, fluency.

I tried the same method with Stuart. It went something like this: "What does 'A' say? Stuart, Stuart, come here... What does 'A' say? 'Aaaa.' Like 'aaapple.' Can you say 'aaaa'? Stuart, sit down... oh, never mind. " Stuart knows his alphabet, but has no idea what the letters actually say. Futhermore, he's supremely uninterested in finding out.

A couple of days ago, the clouds broke. Darren wrote up a special alphabet just for Stuart. He was best qualified to do it because it's Stuart's idea of Quality Father-Son Time to play "Age of Mythology" on the computer. The next day, I sat down with the paper in hand and said,

"A is Ajax and axe.
B is for Black Boar.
C is for Colossus.
D is for dinosaur.
E is for egg (as in phoenix egg)
F is for fire giant.
G is for Goliath.
H is for hippocampus.
I is for ice hammer.
J is for jump.
K is for Kronos.
L is for Lion.
M is for minotaur.
N is for nail.
O is for octopus (or obelisk).
P is for pegasus.
Q is for quick.
R is for roc.
S is for sphinx.
T is for troll.
U is for unicorn.
V is for Valkyrie.
W is for wolf.
X is like in phoenix.
Y is for yell.
Z is for zoog zapper." (From an entirely different game, but still a method of killing bad guys.)

Stuart was absolutely enthralled. Being a three-year-old boy, he never did get through the entire list, but knows up to about K without hesitation. It's a start... both toward Stuart learning to read, and Mama learning to teach.

-- SJ

The Randomizer As...

Geographer:
"In the continent of North Italy, the word 'spizba' means 'yes.'"
"The flag of France has black and white on it. Stuart can attest to that."

Dairy expert:
"The way they make butter is that they get the milk and freeze it and cut it into a cube and paint it yellow, and it's butter!"

Self-Disciplinarian:
"Oh, no! You made me give it back to Stuart! Now I will have to stay in my room for a year!"

Matchmaker:
Every night, the kids pray for a set of cousins, which includes our godson, Ben. Last night, Addie prayed in a stream-of-consciousness sing-song, while Darren nearly strained something trying not laugh:
"And please bless Ben and the new baby in Miss Rachelle's tummy, who will be his brother or sister and Stuart will marry her and know what kind of flowers to bring home to his wife."

-- SJ

A Helpful Form

One of our main babysitters, Kahri, often leaves notes for us to tell us what happened while we were gone. I thought it might be helpful to design a form that could be used in all circumstances.

********
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jones,

Welcome home! Tonight, the kids were:

___ Perfect little angels.
___ Minor saints.
___ Rambunctious hippopotami.
___ I am joining a Reformed church due to my new-found belief in the total depravity of man.

As a special craft for you, the kids:

___ Put together this sweet valentine’s heart with their handprint in the middle.
___ Assembled a puzzle.
___ Dropped juice and Cheerios all over the floor.
___ The electrician and plumber are both scheduled for tomorrow; the TV repairman said it’s inoperable; and the carpenter said he should be able to patch the holes in the wall sometime next week.

Before bedtime, we:

___ Read a story, prayed, and went right to bed.
___ Had a snack. Okay, three snacks.
___ Talked several times about the necessity of obedience.
___ Read a Bible story, had storytime candy, took a bath, brushed teeth, put on pajamas, took off pajamas, went to the bathroom, put on new pajamas, read a story, got into bed, prayed, told a story, told another story, left the door ajar, pitched a major fit because the nightlight wasn’t plugged into the correct outlet, coughed until he threw up, and finally fell asleep halfway out the bedroom door into the hall.

After the kids went to bed, I:
___ Did the dishes and swept the floor.
___ Picked up the toys.
___ Watched a video.
___ Heard you driving into the driveway as I was screaming into a pillow.

___ I’d love to do this again!
___ Let’s discuss payment for next time.
___ Don’t call me, I’ll call you.
___ Have you considered the major benefits of a continent marriage?

--The Babysitter

--DJ