Haiku Art by Stuart

("Haiku by Stu" sounds better, but we've never called him Stu and I don't want to encourage the world to do so)

Stuart has grasped the concept of syllables, even if he does usually call them "symbols." Being the Good Homeschool Mama, I explained how to construct a haiku, and we sat down and wrote these together. Stuart would rattle off a suggestion, we'd count the syllables. He unfortunately was more impressed the more syllables he came up with, but he'd help me reword it so he liked it. Sometimes he got it right all by himself. It was probably accident, but I pretend to think otherwise.

In order to fully grasp the deep and subtle meanings of the first two poems, you've got to be familiar with the computer game "Bookworm Adventure." The last one refers to a community fun day in town.

Haiku #1: Circe
Circe was not nice.
Lex killed Circe with a WHOMPED!
She fell down on dirt.

Haiku #2: Lex
Lex is a good guy.
He spells to defeat bad guys.
He WHOMPS and CRUSHES.

Haiku #3: Friends
Stuart has some friends.
One friend is Prometheus.
He stomps a lot, too. [Stuart added the "too" to make up the fifth syllable.]

Haiku #4: Fun
Fun at Doo-Dah Day
We got to meet Spider-man!
Our cheeks got painted.

-- SJ and SMJ

MonoDialogue

Stuart usually isn't Stuart. He's Ajax, or a mountain giant, or an enchanted flying serpent (thanks, Bookworm Adventures). He talks about himself in the third person: "He wants a granola bar." Where we see just one lone blond boy, he evidently sees himself surrounded by friends.

He's been quizzing us lately: "How many people can fit in our van?"

"Seven."

"So Organize and Son of Osiris and the enchanted hound can come, but the Trojan Spearman has to stay at home."

The other day we were traveling in the van, listening to the CD with "Yankee Doodle" on it. The kids love this CD, which soon might suffer some sort of irreparable damage. Evidently we weren't alone in the van, because I overheard this conversation between Stuart and... um, Stuart:

"Rowr rowr rowrrowr rowr rowr..."

"Organize! Don't sing it like that! You aren't a lion!

"Ooo ooo ahh ahh ooo ooo ah...."

"Organize! You aren't a monkey!"

"Arf arf arfarf arf arf arf..."

Etc., etc., etc.

You know, I don't think Stuart ever really gets lonely.

-- SJ

Close Call

It was the end of a long, tiring evening, and it hadn't yet ended. Daphne had taken that fatal after-7:30 nap. It was a piffling little catnap, but enough to keep her up, overtired and screaming, until 11:30. I'd nursed her, Darren fed her, we both held her, we let her wail in her crib, and still sleep did not come. I desperately needed sleep myself, so I left Daphne in Darren's arms and collapsed in bed. Tried to drift off. Wasn't at all surprised when Darren brought her in half an hour later: "She hates my arms. She hates the couch. She hates the carseat." By this time she'd worn herself out, so I was able to nurse her to sleep, and peace finally descended upon the Jones household.

"It's so frustrating," Darren said as we lay in the dark, "that I can't calm her down." He had been magic with Addie and Stuart, but Daphne loves and wants Mama above all else.

I said something inconsequential about having resources he didn't have. We went on to sleep. As I drifted off, however, my heart was seething. He couldn't calm her down because, obviously, he didn't spend any time with her. Granted, it was because he put in so much time with the older two... but did he ever play with her, hold her, pay attention to her? It seemed to me, as I thought about it, that I couldn't recall any time he'd held her for any significant amount of time. Pretty much I did it. All the time. My life appeared to me to be one long hour of holding, feeding, and taking care of the baby. Things had come to a head that night: it was time to talk about this problem, before it got any worse.

Fortunately, I realized that we were both extremely tired, and there was no way I could broach the subject without turning it into an attack. So I resolved to open the discussion the next day. Darren needed to see where he was neglecting his sacred duties, and who better than his wife to show him?

The next day, the cloud of gloom that had choked me last night was a little lighter. Maybe I didn't have to talk to him about it, I reasoned. He probably noticed himself that his relationship with his younger daughter was already reaching a crisis. Yes, I probably could just leave it up to his conscience, which in all other matters was commendable.

By the end of the day, the fog had burned off and reality shone through in bright colors. Darren got home, kissed me, hugged A&S, and took the grinning Daphne from my arms. He held her during supper so I could eat in peace, and let her drink and dribble from his cup. He put her on the floor next to him as he read the paper. When bedtime came -- at a much more reasonable hour -- he held her until she drifted off on his shoulder. There was no doubt that Daphne knew and loved her Daddy.

I remembered the irrational conviction of the night before, but wasn't sure now why it seemed so convincing. At least I retained enough shred of sense to keep my mouth shut. It was a painless lesson, and here's hoping I learned it.

-- SJ

Moral of the Above Story

To avoid fights in marriage, don't talk to each other.

-- DJ (who has been recommended for remedial training)

Postcards, The Next Chapter

I am a happy girl this weekend. I sat down and looked through my postcard collection, and found it to be just as beautiful as I was hoping for. Two recent additions:

* Sherri W.: Washington, D.C. and Virginia, much needed in a display otherwise devoted to far-off places like Turkey and San Francisco.

* Catherine G.: Atlanta skyline at sunset, bolstering the minority Southern ranks.

The Shopping Angels were smiling on me when I made the soul-chilling trip to look for frames. Bored kids in a doctor's office have nothing on interested kids in a craft store. Styrofoam eggs, flower forms, glass beads, quilt batting, floral wire, crochet needles... all were greeted with the same effusive cries of discovery. I continually had to wrench my attention in their direction to say, "No, we don't need that. No, we aren't going to buy that. No, we came to get frames." The entire store knew their names by the time we left because I kept losing track of them. By the time I got my frames and got the kids out the door (dragging Addie away from a fascinating sewing machine), there just wasn't much left of me. The second trip I made, I took Darren with me.

However, getting back to the theologically dubious Shopping Angels, they saw to it that the frames were on clearance -- at two different stores, no less! So I got twenty frames at half-price, which only made me happier.

I've matted and framed eighteen postcards, and can't wait to get them up on my wall. It's going to be a colorful, conversational display. I'm a little nervous about the vast potential of crooked lines -- I never, ever hang or glue anything straight -- but Darren and I will just refer to my "marks of authenticity" and pretend it's perfect. The best part of the whole project, though, is that each postcard was a personal gift. When visitors look at it, they'll see colors and places. When I look at it, I'll see friends. Thank you.

Once the display is up, I'll post a picture.

-- SJ

The Easter Photos

First of all, the adorable DMJ, wearing a dress from Mam that AMJ wore five years ago:


Next, all three kids dressed up and ready to go to church. Note that AMJ is being a good first-born and making sure that DMJ's wing shows properly:


Last, the Easter baskets. Note the amazing and totally coincidental similarities between husband's and wife's:


--DJ

P.S. If you can tell from the 3rd picture, the kids' baskets were light on candy, heavy on books and videos. AMJ was not particularly pleased with this arrangement.

Fulfillment

My great accomplishment for today was cleaning and vacuuming our bedroom. It had gotten so awful that, had our mothers seen it, we'd have been grounded for a week. I found four kid socks (all different), uncovered that other shoe of mine I was looking for last week, and retired one of Darren's shirts. Between the scattered bills on my bedside shelf and the coins from around the room, I gathered up about fifteen dollars. I put it all in the box on our dresser that we've designated as our "England fund," although it pays for pizza delivery pretty often, too. This morning the room was all raucous and dissonant jazz. Now it's soothing, calm strings. I should sleep well tonight.

I think I'm supposed to be depressed, if not ashamed, that the most significant task of my day was to clean my room. I'm supposed to think, "Vacuuming just does not fulfill me!" (Pretty much you can substitute for "vacuuming" whatever you, personally, do all the time. Nobody seems to be fulfilled by his or her mundane life.) But I'm happy with what I got done. Keeping a house clean and organized, especially for someone who isn't naturally inclined to do either, is good stuff. I didn't change the world at large, but I did a lot toward the happiness of my family's world. That's very fulfilling.

-- SJ

Easter!

The greatest joy this Easter was watching the children celebrate. There were two reasons why they were excited: they got candy, and they got to say "Alleluia" again in church. Throughout the service, two cheery little voices added Alleluia a beat after everyone else. The celebratory mood at church was so contagious that Addie and Stuart went around kissing everyone. They're pretty short, so lots of people got kisses on their thighs. When there was no one else to kiss, they hugged and kissed each other. It was very gratifying to watch their joy.

One of Darren's Easter joys is making up baskets for the kids and for me, and I make sure he has something special also. Last night, while arranging the kids' baskets, we exchanged gifts with each other.

Darren got me handmade chocolates from a local shop, and a new Steve Green album.

I got Darren handmade chocolates from a local shop, and a piano/vocal book of Steve Green songs.

We nearly had to sit down from laughter. I guess there are some obvious reasons why we enjoy each other's company.

In the evening, we had some friends over for supper. When you don't have anyone to share a holiday with, it seems very empty. After the meal we had, "empty" didn't apply in any sense or form. We almost didn't have room for the almond-nut torte I made, but we managed. It was a good day and a wonderful celebration of our lives in Christ. I hope to have Darren post some pictures of the kids in their Easter finery. Daphne, especially, looked incredibly cute in an outfit that her sister wore at the same age.

He is risen! He is risen indeed! Happy Easter!

-- SJ

An Addie-ism

When her foot fell asleep this morning:

"My body put trampolines in my foot."

--DJ

The Ant War

Every spring since we moved into our house, I have engaged in all-out warfare against invading ants. I loathe ants, especially in the kitchen. I have technology, they have numbers. I keep putting food in less and less accessible places, while they become more and more creative in their devastation. The battle rages for weeks until finally either I give up or they all die (either of poison or of cold in the fall).

This year, unfortunately, the ants have engaged a new ally on their side. Stuart loves small things. The other night, he saw an ant running across the kitchen floor. He was immediately in love. He informed me that it tickled when it walked on his hand. He named it "Black." He dropped little crumbs on the floor for it to eat.

Thankfully, Stuart goes to bed before I do. Thus, he will never know (at least, not this year) what violence lurks in his Daddy's heart as the Raid can is brought down from the highest shelf in the pantry. Good-bye and good riddance, "Black!"

--DJ

A Spring Haiku

World washed clean and fresh
Radiant sun warm on skin
Ah! Spring has arrived.

--DJ