It Is Finished: The Kids' Rooms

We got it done! (And no mop touched a wall during the process.) Both bedrooms are freshly painted, and we're pretty darn pleased with the results. Here are pictures; please make the usual allowances for run-of-the-mill camera and lighting.

The girls' room was originally an inoffensive light blue:



I'd intended to paint it a very light pink with red trim, but ended up with rather pink walls and *very* rather pink trim. Fortunately, Addie and Daphne both love it:



Here's Stuart's room in its original B-b-b-blue. This is what it was when we moved in, so at least we knew the room could take an intense color:



The Search for the Purple lasted for some weeks. He liked Brave Purple, fine and good. But then I switched paint companies, and the new paint card I brought home had a different name for the same color. They called it "Butterfly Garden." We were right back to lavender again: could I really let Stuart glibly inform everyone that his room was painted "Butterfly Garden"? (And he would, too. That was its name, and he wouldn't budge.) After much negotiation, we settled on a shade bluer. This one is called "Magic Moment." Smaltzy, yes, but to Stuart it means wizards and dragons, so all was well. It turned out to be an inspired choice: we all love this color.



(Darren would like to point out that whoever did that wide beige band at the top of the room sure did a top-notch job. I, personally, am pretty pleased with that red trim.)

Yay! It's done! Now to roust out the House Fairies and make them put this house back in order again.

-- SJ

What We Think -- "Poplorica" and "I Loved a Girl"

What we think is that you have to read these books. The end.

Poplorica is my type of book: nonfiction, advertising, modern culture, little-known facts, recent history... I had high hopes for it when I picked it up. It listed several (ten? twelve?) little-recognized innovations that have shaped our way of living today. The authors highlighted a random assortment, including: product placements in movies; nylon pantyhose; the rise of suburban lawns and lawncare; "supertanker" disposable diapers; and the slam dunk in basketball. Remarkably for me, I also liked the authors' voice and style throughout. I enjoyed this book thoroughly, so it stands to reason that everybody else will, also. Um, except that Darren didn't read it, but he did like hearing about it.

The second book is one that Darren found, read, and brought home insisting I should read. (The man's optimism is breathtaking.) I Loved a Girl is a short book, a quick read, and one that will bear up under many more readings. Set in Africa in the 1960s, it's a collection of letters between a young African man and the white missionary pastor who baptised him. Francois has been dismissed from his job at a Christian school because, as he put it, he "last month loved a girl." He had sex with her, and now is angry and doesn't understand why it cost him his job AND put him "under church discipline" for six months. As he and the pastor correspond, a more complete picture unfolds: not only the immediate circumstances, but the difficulties and cultural pressures that African young people faced at that time. The letters also explore the meaning of love and sex, placing it far above mere pleasure or proving oneself.

Things take an even more interesting turn when Francois meets Cecile and they fall in love. Whether they can have a happily-ever-after is very uncertain.

I loved this book because the letters were open and honest. Walter, the pastor, is understanding but not afraid of tough love. The book also highlights some of the culture conflicts that the white missionaries created when they moved in among the Africans. (Leah, I wondered especially if you would find it interesting, as your departure to Ghana approaches.)

All of which is the long way of saying, You should read these books. The end.

Geronimo, Remixed

The times kids have the most fun is when their parents are too busy and distracted to pay attention to them.

We were painting Addie's room tonight. Left to their own, the kids found the mattress we'd taken off Addie's bunk bed. They propped one end on our bed and took turns launching themselves onto it. (I knew vaguely what they were doing, but refused to decide if they should or not.)

After a bit, Darren stopped painting and said, "Stuart, what did you just say?"

Stuart, sheepish, said that it was nothing.

"No, really, I'm curious. It sounded like you said 'African pierogies.'"

"That IS what I said." And Stuart launched himself onto the mattress again, shouting, "African pierogies!"

Who needs Geronimo when you have African pierogies?

-- SJ

Look Under There! Underwear!

Addie and Stuart, exiled into the hallway, were watching Darren roll primer onto Stuart's wall. "What's that for?" they asked.

"It's the paint that goes under the real paint... it helps the top paint look good..." Blank looks. He rephrased. "It's the paint's underwear."

Rarely has Darren given a more pleasing answer to a question. The kids SING about it now. And now you know, too: primer is the paint's underwear. Just try to forget it.

-- SJ

Long-Distance Relationship

Some time back, a friend asked if we'd do a post on how to maintain a long-distance relationship. My and Darren's courtship and engagement was short (less than a year) but it was conducted over a span of 900 miles. We saw each other for a few days once a month, except one month right before we got married, when we didn't see each other at all. Not that it bothered me so much that I still remember it eight years later.

I put some thought into the topic, but in the end I couldn't come up with much advice except, "Be prepared to spend lots of money on plane tickets and phone bills." How *did* Darren and I develop a very good relationship so far apart?

Last night we cleaned out the bookshelf in Stuart's room in preparation for painting, and I found the binders of our emails and chats.

So, yeah, Janice, here's how we did it:



-- SJ

Budget Post

For the past two weeks, I've been wrapped up in setting up an entirely new budgeting system for the household. This is not a plea for sympathy: I've enjoyed it thoroughly. It's one of those things that I call "inconsistent with my character sketch": if I were a fictional character -- anti-list, anti-schedules, numerophobic -- no reader would believe I'd enjoy dealing with a detailed system of numbers.

But I do. After all, I don't have to do any actual calculating myself (that's why computers were INVENTED). Meanwhile, I like knowing exactly what's available in which category. We did start out that way, but somewhere around kid two or three, I got lazy and content with a very Victorian arrangement in our marriage: I'd just ask Darren if we had enough for whatever I wanted. Or I'd inform him of what I bought and let him do the transfers necessary to cover the expenses. Very neat and patriarchal of us, but not very sound financial practice.

Because I've been so preoccupied with the budget -- as in, racking my brain for other topics to talk about just to relieve Darren's monotony -- I've been musing over the following unrelated money-type thoughts recently:

1. A friend was advising me on how to cut down on the grocery bill, and a large part of her advice was "shop at Wal-Mart." I replied that I don't shop at Wal-Mart. She agreed that the one in town is a death-trap, but the newer one outside of town was less crowded. "No," I said, "I don't shop at Wal-Mart at all. Period. On principle." The trouble is, it's a very vague principle, made up of equal parts of dislike (Wal-Mart has pushed out every other competing business in my hometown, leaving residents with no other shopping choice); discomfort (I don't like relying on China to make my life better... but I shop at Target, and it's not like they're all stars and stripes themselves); and stubbornness (if everyone else shops at Wal-Mart, then I sure as heck won't). It's annoying that a vague principle can cost extra money.

2. However, after two or three years of eschewing Wal-Mart, I'm glad to say that my horizon has broadened. When I think, "I need to buy a box of small nails and a hairbrush," I then think, "So which stores do I need to go to?" I shop a much larger variety of stores now that I can't get everything in one (crowded, headachey, greed-breeding) place.

3. Budget cuts aren't as easy as the articles make it appear. It's easy to say, "Cut out that Starbucks coffee!", but then you're left with the reality that you don't get that yummy coffee you're so attached to. (Not that I patronize Starbucks, of course.) Especially when the yummy coffee is already a once-a-month treat. Especially when you really don't want to see your beloved local chain go under from lack of business.

4. Also, it's easy to advise, "Drop unnecessary magazine subscriptions." That's fine and good for BH&G, which is a huge corporation and probably could manufacture its own customers to buy its magazine if it had to. But the little magazines that depend on our support to survive... it's as much a favor as a pleasure to subscribe.

5. Same goes for the farm that we bought shares in. It's expensive, not to mention risky if the growing season turns out to be a disaster. Much cheaper to get produce at the grocery store (or WAL-MART). But we want to support the farm.

6. Living "green" and "organically" is not budget-friendly.

7. So much for a "budget post." This thing's long. Darren's the one who practices economy of words, not me.

-- SJ

Hospitality

It's nice to wake up to a clean house on a Monday morning. Last night we hosted a "dessert event" for Romania Reborn, a ministry we've supported for years. It's looking to expand its donor base -- take a look.

The adults (there were six) seemed to enjoy Jayme's and Christian's presentation. The kids (there were ten) ran in and out of the house, ate brownies, and from all appearances would be up to a dessert evening every Sunday.

And, having given the gift of hospitality, we're left with the gift of a house that's still neat. Fair exchange.

-- SJ

Painting: Expert Advice

So for all you experienced room-painters, a question:

Four different "how to" articles advised us to clean the walls with mops and two buckets of water before painting. The dirt and grease on the old paint would keep the new paint from sticking properly, they said.

Have you had to do this incredibly tedious preparation? Because although you might not guess it from my question, I'm really hoping that it's a skippable step. Also I'd like documented evidence that it's skippable because otherwise my rule-following husband will point to the checklist and say, "But we have to do it to make it come out right, see?" (On an unrelated note, said husband's projects almost always turn out properly, unlike mine, which is no end of a puzzle to me.)

-- SJ

Kid Quotes

Stuart

"In MY world, green is a primary color."


Daphne

"I'm a cat. I'm Daphne Joy Cat. I'm a red Daphne Joy Cat and I'm runnin' and jumpin'!"

(Where the "Joy" part came from is a mystery, as her middle name is Michele.)

*

Addie

"This is a petty mess!"

"Where did you get that saying?"

"The word 'petty' I got from a book. The word 'mess' I got from you."


-- SJ

The Beginning of the (Modern) World

It was the decade when everything seemed to go a little bit crazy. Youth became fashionable and thin was in, leading to nationwide diet crazes. Young people threw off conventional standards of behavior, saying that the older generation was phoney and pretentious. Commercialism, consumerism, and buying on credit became a way of life. Music went wild, dances went wild... pretty much the whole nation went wild.

The 60s?

Nope. The 20s.

I'm reading The 1920s by Kathleen Drowne (what a name) and Patrick Huber. It's been enlightening. When you read about previous eras of American History, you think, "Oh, that's a shift in mindset or way of life that eventually led to our world today." When you read about the 20s, you think, "Oh. That's our world."

It was in the 20s that Youth became a revered commodity, one that women would pay a lot to keep. The 20s introduced candy bars, celebrity endorsements, lay-away plans, dieting, and the first sharply-defined generation gap. Big chain grocery stores began during this time, as well as frozen foods, which homogenized American cuisine. Radio and magazines standardized American news and entertainment. Movies hit big. Fads came in and out at breathtaking speed, as did fashions. People did stupid things to national acclaim. It all looks a little ridiculous written down in one place, but then, so do we today.

It's been a very familiar ride through the book. Many of the innovations of the 20s are standards today: we don't even think about them. The book, one of a series, obviously isn't meant for pleasure reading. I think it's designed for writing history reports. I occasionally imagine myself doing "research" on "sports in the 20s" and having to compile the information in this book. Then I imagine I'm the teacher reading it. Pretty painful on both sides.

A fun nonfiction read, for those who think reading nonfiction is fun.

-- SJ

Because It Has to Be Posted

My niece Katie took this picture of Daphne during her visit last month. It's one that, obviously, we have to share:



-- SJ

Wise Counsel

It's something of a shock when a couple you perceive as happily married admits that they've been seeing a marital counselor.

Not to be shocking or anything, but Darren and I have been seeing a marital counselor.

We decided several weeks ago to set up an appointment with a Christian counselor (who came highly recommended by another family in the church). Well, we sort of talked about it, anyway. It was when our pastor (a veteran of marital counseling himself) advised us to do so that we actually called up the clinic. But we didn't mention it to many people. It's an awkward sort of conversation. First you have to assure your listener that you aren't having serious marital problems, and then you have to justify why you even want to see a counselor if you don't have any serious marital problems. Easier not to bring it up.

It's true that Darren and I have an easy relationship. Even the counselor said we were one of the best-matched couples she'd ever met. But just one session with a trained listener showed us why we'd encountered so many communication impasses recently. We both avoid conflict and hate confrontation. Instead of facing difficult topics head-on, I vent about peripheral issues and Darren simply withdraws. We also fell into habits during our early, immature married days that we persist in even now. We always knew some things were a little off-kilter. It was helpful to have someone explain ways to correct them.

It wasn't as if we realized that our marriage was frail and needed salvaging: it was that we wanted to prevent our marriage from ever needing salvaging.

Our counselor was the unrelated third party we needed to help us figure things out. She's a great fan of "tools," and gave us several communication helps that are, in a word, hokey. No, really: one of them is a set script where you actually have to use "dialogue" as a verb. She said we'd feel silly using the tools, but that we should get familiar with them anyway. If there's one thing Darren and I both are, it's good students. We went home and practiced, ahem, dialoguing.

Know what? It worked. We handled uncomfortable topics calmly and thoroughly. We got things decided on. It's amazingly conducive to peace when you know that your spouse has really heard what you've said -- not only the, "It bothers me when this happens," but also, "I so very much appreciate it when you do this."

We went only a few times: once a month, with babysitter fees, pushed the limit for a couple with young children. Just those few times were extremely helpful in understanding each other -- and ourselves. So our recommendation is that if you know of a good, trusted counselor, consider a few sessions to improve and maintain your marriage. You don't have to tell anybody you're going.

-- SJ and DJ

For Women Only, Again

Some time back I posted about an item of interest only to women. Well, here's another one. It's the Other Option for us women. Still a little off-putting to our hyper-disposable culture, but definitely has the virtue of thrift and conservation.

Men, trust me, you do wish to avoid this topic.

-- SJ

What Caught My Eye

I was driving past a car dealership and caught sight of a young man wearing a white muscle shirt -- and he looked good in it, too. He was looking at the Big Trucks. As I drove on, he turned. That's when I saw that he was holding a small bundle wrapped in a pink-and-blue blanket. The sight of a virile young father, looking at trucks while cradling his newborn, is one that I'll enjoy remembering.

-- SJ

Sunday Report

For the first time in months (possibly running into years), I enjoyed church this morning.

We took along our neighbor, Mollie, who is interested in every single thing going on. Her enthusiasm was catching: she and Addie sat together and sang the songs and followed along with the Scripture readings. Stuart hasn't figured out that participating wards off boredom, but he did at least spend some of the time reading his Bible. And Daphne apparently took a Good Vitamin this morning, because she was reasonably quiet and very well-behaved. I was in the pew with four children by myself for most of the service, and had a fine time. Probably because I spent the whole time teaching -- pointing out readings, getting Daphne to sing "Lalalala" with the music, and answering questions. (I'm one of those annoying homeschoolers who absolutely loves sitting down with the kids and teaching.)

The communion hymn was "Living for Jesus." Darren and I had taught the kids the first verse and chorus. Stuart waited in impatient anticipation throughout the whole service for that song. Then he sang happily and audibly even while waiting to receive communion. Addie one-upped him: she went and stood beside Darren at the front of the church and sang there. Our pastor, Fr. Tim, remarked afterward that it was a Jones Singalong Song. Addie replied very loudly, "We were well-trained at home in the first verse." I think that answer deserves candy.

-- SJ

Brave Purple

Yes, Stuart has chosen Brave Purple for his room color. I am thrilled with his choice because for the past six months, he's declared that his favorite color is lavender. He wanted his room painted lavender. And as much as I avoid characterizing colors as "boy" or "girl" colors, I balked at the prospect of painting my six-year-old boy's room light purple.

So Brave Purple is dark enough that I think we can swing it masculine. I think Stuart mostly just likes the name of it. My mother suggested pairing it with tan. Any other suggestions for making sure this color comes out royal and regal instead of light and airy-fairy?

-- SJ

Addie's First Post

hi!isn't it a nice day?it's warm,and we don't wear shoes.bye!
~amj

Conversations with Daddy's Girls

Yesterday, Daphne was jumping on and off my chair and chattering (two favorite activities). Sara heard her say, "Daddy is nice to me. I love him."

*****

Last night, Addie came up and began patting my stomach.

"Daddy, I think you need to start doing some exercising."

"Yes, Addie, that's why I've started taking karate again."

"Yes, but I think you should do some exercises at home. Maybe you should add some yoga or some push-ups and sit-ups. Or perhaps you could do a Tae-Bo video."

*****

On a completely unrelated note, I did push-ups and sit-ups this morning before getting dressed.

--DJ

Stuart's First Post

Guest blogger today, at his own request.

hi, stuart here.this is my first post! i want to paint my room BRAVE PURPLE, i like titan quest,and the best thing,im good at math in shcool! love,stuart.

An Open Letter

Dear CCM bands,

I've been listening to random tracks from our computer, most of them downloaded by Darren as possible songs to introduce at church. After three or four songs, I felt compelled to write a word or two to you letting you know what I think.

First of all, I do understand that you're so cool you can hardly stand to be in the same room with yourself. Still, even cool people can use a brush-up on basics every now and then.

Take phonics, for instance. I don't know what school you went to, but apparently you all went to the same one, where they taught you that G-O-D is pronounced "gaad." It is not pronounced that way, and it detracts from your message when you address all your praises to the "Lord Gaad."

Secondly, I realize that you've carefully cultivated your singing style. However, as a mother of three, I have to say that if any of my children use that tone of voice around me, they're sent to their rooms to count to 50 for whining. Take the phrase "to sing a greater song" for instance. Substitute the words, in the same tone of voice, "But I don't like green beans!" See? Straight to your room.

Your music is pretty good, although you could turn down the guitar and drum tracks and not hurt my feelings any. But haven't you noticed that all your music is downbeat? That none of your music is actually happy-sounding? That's okay for songs about suffering and praising God in the hard times. But when you're singing "Alleluia, we will lift you higher"? You make it sound like serious, heart-wrenching work. But maybe worshiping the Lord Gaad is a more painful experience than worshiping the Lord God. That would explain the whining.

If you'll just address these small, but important, issues, I think you'll agree that while you might lose a few hundred fans today, you won't sound absolutely ridiculous twenty years from now. Think about it.

Sincerely,

-- SJ

Laziness and Sleep

*1.*
Why should I clean my house every week? As long as we live in it happily, who cares if I skip chores for a week? Or two? Or so? Thus did I think, sailing down lazy river, until we invited friends over for supper. The kitchen had to be cleaned, the floor swept, the living areas picked up and vacuumed, the bathroom wiped down.

It took me ALL BLASTED DAY to clean the house -- just to get it to "tidy," forget "clean and shiny." I was exhausted by the time company came.

So why clean my house every week? So I don't use up all my hospitable energy making the house presentable. Valuable lesson learned.


*2.*
I spent Friday night and Saturday at a homeschool mom's conference. The speakers were good, but I sat through so many seminars and speakers when I was younger that if it were just to hear good talks, I'd have stayed home. No, it was better than that. My friend Erin and I went together, without any kids. It was held in a posh hotel where even the bathroom stalls were elegant. The bed was white and fluffy and heavenly. I was a happy woman.

This morning, I and the kids didn't go to church with Darren. I was feeling draggy. As the morning wore on, I wore down. Why was I so tired and irritable to be back home? I just had a weekend break, for heaven's sake! I come home and still feel whiny and demanding and put-upon. How hopeless *am* I, anyway?

Darren got home about noon. I fell asleep on the couch by 1:30. Darren woke me up to go back to the bed, where I snuggled in and passed out for two hours. Just before I fell asleep, I realized that I am six months pregnant and I'd missed my all-important nap two days in a row. I wasn't whiny and demanding and hopeless. I was simply tired.

Sometimes spiritual struggles have very physical roots. Valuable lesson to remember.