When Did Saying Stupid become worse than OMG

Each year in class we read Eve Bunting's, A Picnic in October. I love the story for many reasons, but most importantly for the symbolism of Freedom that I get to discuss with my newly assimilating students. I love to hear what they believe freedom is and what they think of their new country. It is also a time where I get to hear background on my students. They tell some of their stories to me and my eyes are always opened just a little bit more to what some people go through in order to make it to the U.S. and the great opportunities that we have in this country.

The only draw back to the story is the one part when a character says the S word -you know, stupid! The kids always suck in their breath and some will even say Miss that was a bad word, I can't read it. Literally, I have had students stop reading and refuse to say this word out loud. It has always led to huge discussions about how the word is not bad, but just not always nice. etc, etc.

This has always really bothered me since, I have never thought any word was bad, perhaps some words are not polite or justified for public use, but all words have a place that is why people began using them.

The only phrase that really grates on my nerves is OMG. Said by my little ones completely and without a blinking eye to the fact that they just said the Lord's name in vain. It is a definite "do not do" in my class. However, I am constantly fighting this battle.

This year it hit me square in the face. I had just asked my third graders to again not say OMG and suddenly they were open mouthed, eyes wide, and stuttering because the word stupid was on a page in a book.

All I know to say about this revelation is WOW, How did We as the collective educationalworld (parents included) let this huge misappropriation of angst happen!

When the 10 Year Old Cooks

A while back (like about 3 weeks ago) I really didn't feel so good. Of course, as it usually goes it was on a night when my hubby would not be home. I was dragging myself home with the kids in tow all the while knowing that my night would not be restful, but filled with the needs of others.

On arrival home, I dragged myself into the family room and plopped onto my favorite comfy spot and groaned. The oldest asked me what was wrong and I explained. I am sick.

Now Isaac is my nurse. He is a kind hearted soul and the more he grows the more compassionate he is becoming. Even so, I was surprised when he told me that he would help fix dinner. Almost a boyscout, he had helped prepare other meals on campouts with his pack and I knew he could handle the directions. After all, Mac and Cheese in any form just isn't too difficult and it was about all I could handle on this particular night.

So I asked him to boil water, put in the noodles, and then cut up the velveeta and put it aside until we were ready for it. I heard him in the kitchen opening packages. I heard the bubbling of boiling water, drawers sliding and the soft plunk of a knife on a cutting board. I was thankful and very proud.

After al the preparations were done, Isaac went to his room and became absorbed in what ever he does in there, so I decided that I better haul myself off my comfy spot and go see what was happening with the noodles. They were done and it was time to drain off the water.

The first thing I noticed about the noodles was the intense murkiness of the water. I had never seen water so white from boiling macaroni before. I poked around in the pot, but found nothing strange so I decided to go ahead and drain the mac. When I did, I discovered tiny spongy white pieces of SOMETHING stuck to most of the noodles. I stared in disgust. What could this be? I racked my foggy brain, but could think of nothing that would look like this. I gingerly put a little of the substance to my tongue to taste. No taste.

I was certainly baffled so I called my mom. She was baffled too, and couldn't manage to offer anything more than "Could the mac be bad?" and "Do you think it was a wormy thing boiled to oblivion." I shuttered at that since I had already put on tiny part of one of those things in my mouth.

However, it didn't taste like protein, or anything else and we were hungry. What ever it was was no longer alive,(if it ever was alive) so out of a resolve to not think about it any more and a desperation of having nothing else to feed the children without dragging my sick self out to a grocery store, I decided to rinse each piece of mac and then get on with my life. What doesn't kill us will make us stronger, right?
So I rinsed and placed each piece of spongy-free macaroni back in the pan.
My rinsing done, I had all the items ready for the cheese sauce portion of the meal. But, I couldn't find the velveeta anywhere on the kitchen counter. I remembered hearing a knife cutting something,but the evidence was no where to be seen. So I went to find Isaac and see where the velveeta was.

"Isaac," I asked, "Where is the cheese you cut up?"
"Mom," He said, "I put it in the pot with the macaroni."

And suddenly the mystery of my spongy little tastless mess in the kitchen made perfect since. Note to the galley - Don't boil velveeta. It is yucky!

You Picked Me!

This Friday we received a precious Christmas Card from one of the families we travelled to China with. Sarah was sitting by me when I opened the card and we chatted about the little Chinese girl in the photo.

She said "She is from China, like me." Yes, I said. We oohed and Awed and then went to put the card on the angel card holder that will display cards through out the holidays and probably won't get taken down until June. :)

About two hours later, as I sat typing my research paper, Sarah walked up to the card holder. She pointed to the little girl in the picture and said,

"Her mom went to China and chose her" "But, You Chose Me!" Her hand went to cover her heart and she bent her knees a little leaning into her words. "You Chose Me, Mommy!" And then she was bouncing on her toes delightedly. Her smile beaming. And again she giggled "You Chose Me!"

I smiled at her, stunned by the exhuberant emotion. I tried not to cry as I thought of the miracle her life is becoming. I thought about God and his Grandeur. And I thought about His love.

"Sarah" I said. "I chose you. Daddy chose you. And God chose you!"

"Yes" She squealed and then turned heal and bounced down the hall filled with joy.

Can a Birthday get any stranger?

We have a tradition in the Golden/Stevens family that a birthday lunch is always held on the Sunday closest to a family members actual birthday. Last Sunday, it was my mom's lunch. Dad set up the whole thing and told me to bring the cake and a particular present He had is all planned out. I was happy to let him do the planning, but as the saying goes...The best laid plans of mice and men....

When we arrived at Mom and Dad's house, the steaks were coming off the grill, the salad and beans were on the table, and everything was set. We were ready to eat - and we did. It was yummy as usual. My dad can really make a great salad and mom never misses with anything. Plus, I had made be most moist and scrumptious chocolate cake for dessert. And I even had candles!

The only real problem was that both the grown children had forgot their presents for their dear mom. But, she galantly took it in stride and said some soppy motherly thing, like we were all she needed. (pause for awe, isn't she the best)

As usual, the children finished their food first and were excused to run outside and play. Presently, one of them popped his/her head back in the kitchen and asked where Jake was. Jake is the geriatric dog in the family. He is also not the smartest dog in the kennel and so we all started looking for him. The family fanned out in different directions. We called for him, but there was no thumping tailed answer in response. Then I bent down and peeked under a bush. I saw a tail. It was brown with small black stripes across the back and furry. I called to Jake and sill no tail thump, Uh Oh...Isaac confirmed our worst thoughts when he poked Jake with a stick and declared him hard as a rock.

We gathered shovels and the family headed to the back part of the property. The men dug a grave while us women watched. Sometimes one of the kids would pick up a spade and begin to dig, but mostly they just played. When all was said and done, Jake was laid to rest. We said our goodbyes to the old family dog and went back to the house to have birthday cake.

Words, Words, Words

I love words! I love reading words, writing words and thinking about words. So, it doesn't surprise me my children are incredibly verbal. However, the ferosity of their verbage (how's that for words) is very different.

Isaac likes to talk about what he loves and all the time! Sometimes the talk goes on so long that I begin to hear only a Whhhaaa Whaaaa sound in my ears. Sarah, of course, is still learning words and picking everything up a great speed. - This is probably because her mother and brother are talking constantly. :)

Then there is Aaron. The reason for this post. My Aaron, that usually is the rough and tumble action before words type boy, will occasionally bring an audience to a stand still with his vocabulary. This week he has been impressing his teachers and me with the following vignette. Mind you, he is in the second grade.

The vocabulary word is sphere.

Teacher: Does anyone know what a sphere is...

Aaron: Yes, it is like a scepter. You know one of those things on the end of a staff. It is round and kings put it out to people when they make an oath.

Teacher: Yes, that IS like a sphere.

The other children are left in the dust still trying to figure out what the first word meant.

One Year

A year ago, we met the best little girl in the world. Those of you who know her well will see the changes she has made.

Tonight, I am thinking of the year gone by and I am happy and sad all at once. Words can not express the feeling of joy mixed with something else that may be part grief for not having the pleasure of her company her whole life and for her not having the gift of a forever family at birth.

Still God gave her to us - even with our flaws. He entrusted her life and its purpose to us. I am overwhelmed and awed.

Thank you God for Fan Xiao Fu who was born in a country far away but was meant for the USA We love you Sarah - our beautiful princess.

Conversations with Sarah

I am simply amazed by this little girl. I love the way she calls the special people in her life "my ___(insert name)___" and a love her delight at anything brand new. She is certainly a treasure.

Recently, I sat down with her for breakfast and I talked with her about our day and how it would unfold. This was a particularly busy day. We had a camping trip to plan for and a house to clean.

I told her we would need to clean all our stuff. She looked at me very seriously and said "We have a lot of stuff. I have a lot of stuff. Mommy has stuff, Daddy has stuff. Isaac and Aaron have stuff." All the while, her hands are going in giant circles sweeping around to show me all the stuff.

It suddenly struck me how much we take for granted concerning all our "stuffs". Eleven months ago, Sarah had no stuff. Her clothing and toys were all communal and therefore ownership was something very alien to her.

So now she has stuff and she is proud of her stuff. Often she wants more stuff and I admit that usually I give it to her just to see the pure delight on her face. I wonder, do the rest of us middle class Americans see our stuff for how amazing it is and revel in what we have. I usually spend my time wanting different stuff. But I should change that because I do have a lot of stuff - even when I start thinking that I don't.

Sometimes Inquisitive Kids Pay Off

About a month ago, I decided to take all my children to see Karate Kid. I have this thing about movie previews - I love them about as much as a the movie itself and therefore, I feel cheated if I walk in late to a movie. I was very pumped about seeing both the movie and the previews for whatever might be coming next.

So we all piled in the car at 6:50 pm and made our way through our road construction laden town and finally came to the theater at 7:10. There I discovered our movie had started 10 minutes before. Angst!

Now I had a battle in my mind, walk in 10 minutes late after the show was obviously in full swing, all the previews missed by a mile, or go to another theater. I whipped out my handy 3G phone and found another theater and another time. I convinced my kids to sit in a car a little longer and off we went to the Harbor in Rockwall - on a Thursday night - in the summer.

As I turned down the street to The Harbor I noticed lines and lines of cars EVERYWHERE. My first thought was: - "I wonder which incredibly wealthy family was having a major party" and then it occurred to me that it was Thursday night - at The Harbor - during the summer and that meant - Free Concert and a million people. It also meant no parking places, cars going every which way and a sea of people trying to fit themselves into a key hole sized lawn for a free concert. And All I wanted to do was take the kids to a movie.

Then I saw my oasis. Valet. I pulled up, handed my car over and all the kids piled out onto the pavement. I thought this was a very wise way to spend 10 dollars. No hassle. The only unfortunate consequence was Sarah not understanding why I had just handed my car keys to a total stranger. I wasn't sure I was going to get her out of the car for a minute. But when no one else seemed alarmed she relented her hold on the door frame and into the movie we went.

Two hours, three drinks, a package of candy and one giant popcorn container later - and we were back outside going to get my car. As we approached the valet hut, my heart sank.

Where did all these people come from. Literally over 200 people were smooshed into a 300 foot concrete radius with the Valet Hut as its center. I pushed myself and the three very grumpy, candy and soda spiked kiddoes to the front of the counter and looked at the frenzy of activity. Keys flew passed me and people ran back and forth grabbing tickets. Where was the line? Where was some help? And hHow was I going to manage this at 10:30 p.m., with three grumpy kids for what looked like at least an hour wait to just get my car back?!

That is when the inquisitive kid syndrome hit my older two boys. They had also been watching the busyness of the valet hut and were astonished by how it ran. They began to ask the valet guy questions. Incessant questions. Questions about the keys to all the cars. Questions about the valet guy. Questions about headlights, flashlights, and their uniforms. I tried to pull them away and get them to sit,but my heart wasn't in it.

After about two minutes the Valet guy told the boys to start looking for our keys ourselves. My boys went after the search with gusto! But the questions just didn't stop. Now the questions were: Do you see a Nissan key? Mom does it have a clicker on it like daddies? Is that it? Hey look at that one! We need a flashlight! and Sir, do you have a flashlight? The Valet guy looked at me and saw that I had one child hugging my waist while whining, plus two boys that were pretty sugared up. With an exhasperated sigh, he asked for my ticket. I happily handed him my valet ticket. He promptly found my keys and put them at the front of the line. I sheepishly smiled at him and thanked him while literally pulling my two boys from the Valet Hut.

15 muntes later, we were in our car and on the road home. Thank you inquisitive boys!

The Pit Party

It is a tradition in Okeene, Oklahoma to attend the annual Pit Party. This is not a town function really, but the kind of easy going, whoever wants to come (and by the way- bring some food) affair that I have always dreamed small towns were made of.

So once a year, right after the 4th of July when fireworks are cheap in OK, people show up at the shale pit. It is set a few miles down a couple country roads. You wouldn't know how to get there unless someone told you and even then a city slicker could easily get lost if they missed the cattle guard in the road and then forgot to turn left at the second gate. (These were not the real directions, since I never drive there, but as a city slicker rely on my friends to take me)

This year, we got lucky to my standards and found ourselves eating and playing in the pasture above the pit. It was a lot less dusty and I didn't feel completely caked in red dirt afterward. The pasture did offer new challenges in that giant piles of cow pies were laying around everywhere - some fresh. When the cars started showing up, the cows moved on, but not before we all got to see a little bit of the herd including a calf and a pregnant cow. Sarah thought that was really cool. However, she was still oblivious to the down-home fun that was about to transpire.

Out of the back of a huge truck, black cats, sparklers and other types of poppers started flying into the hands of excited children and watchful adults. A prayer of safety was said over the group, and then the shooting began.

Dizzying sounds of popping fireworks with the occasional bellow of warning mixed with the squeal of delight reverberated around the pasture. The wind was blowing as it does in Ok. and so a few times, a firework would shoot into the air, go off and then we would be sprayed with debris. This was usually followed by figuring out who the culprit was and telling them to move on down the hill so ash wouldn't get in the hamburgers.

In all, it was a good time, as always. We watched the kids have fun, made small talk with our old friends and some new friends. And then, when all the fireworks have been used up and there wasn't one sparkler left for the kids to light, we all went home to happily hit the hay :)

The funniest Thing!

Ok, a slight confession to make in order to tell this story- I know that I am an old soul, but I really enjoy the O'Reilly Factor on t.v. I don't get to watch it often because the boys usually dominate the t.v. with cartoons and kid friendly movies. But last night, we only had a few minutes of down time before our evening walk and I decided to check in. So the kids and I sat down to view some current events.

On the screen sat O'Reilly, one of his Blonde commentators and the steadfast Combs. Of course a heavy discourse and charged discussion was folding out in front of us. It was heated. Hands were moving, voices raising, and body language showing great angst.

In the middle of all the revelry, my Aaron (the most hot headed of my children) turns to me and asks "Do these people know they are on television?" Yes, I answered. "Well, " He said, "Don't they know not to argue in public!"

I busted out laughing. I love the brains of my children.

Why do we have 4 bedrooms?

Okay, I know this might be a little unorthodox, but, more often than not, all three of my kiddos like to sleep in the same room.

Right now, I am listening to a little voice sing her own made up song. This sound is coming from Isaac's room. Nathan shushes our girl and commands silence only to be told by one of the boys that they like her singing.

Each night Nathan and I witness the same strange dance to see what room they will all choose and if our oldest will join in or decide that he is above the slumber party atmosphere. When the room is chosen, then beds have to be created. Pillows, blankets and bodies are all arranged depending on who gets the floor and who is stuck with the bed.

Finally, after many wiggles and multiple kisses, a song is sung to lure the group into slumber. However, it usually just prompts singing and requests for more songs. When lights go out, sleep enters the room gracefully wrapping all the children up. Most of the time, the littles ones end up cuddling together during the night or someone comes to find us and snuggle in the wee hours of the morning. I don't mind because I love their little heads tucked under my chin. I love their calm quiet breathing.

One day, I am sure all the children will decide the the privacy of their own room is way more cool than all piling up together. But that night is not tonight and I am grateful for the little voices that travel from their slumber party to my ears as I type this.

Little Sayings

I have to admit that I crack up at the little conversation pieces that children come up with. The way language comes to them lends itself to just the cutest little things. I know this is not unique to my children. Even I changed English to fit my own needs as a child. When I was a kid I called those big green jumping bugs Hop Grassers and I still say that my stummy hurts sometimes.

Today I got a real laugh out of Sarah's response to the pop music I was singing along to in my personal "swagger wagon".

I still chuckle as I remember the words "Mommy! Please be quiet, I can't hear my book!"

School is out..It's Medical Visit Time!

School ended with a whirl of activity. Aaron was shuttled up to Oklahoma for a few days of fun with Grandparents Stevens on their microfarm, while Isaac immediately went to Camp Gap which is a Texas sized version of Falls Creek or Windemere (for those of you that know what that is).

I stayed home with Nathan who began teaching summer classes this week and Sarah who daily asked where her brothers were.

We have managed to get in one good afternoon of swimming, but most of the week was filled with Medical Tests to get Sarah on the path to wearing "big girl" underwear.

One of the many challenges of living with any form of Spina Bifida is the toll it takes on a persons ability to use the restroom in the usual way. Most people with SB will use self intermittant catheterizing to create the same ability that the rest of us do just because our bodies tell us to.
In order to get there with Sarah, we visited Children's Medical Center in Dallas twice to have a Urodynamic Test ( a pressure test) and a DMSA (a kidney function test). In the middle of all this, I thought we might as well schedule all our Dr. appts for her and we went to Scottish Rite for our six month evaluation. This was a littany of professionals who, over the span of 2.5 hours saw my little girl. All of this was exhausting for her and me!

However the end of this very long week has come, and a new chapter for Sarah has begun. We have been cathing her for two days now. She woke up this morning and asked immediately to get her underwear on and for me to help her. She is a strong girl with determination and much patience - Thankfully! Right now she just watches me cath her (which is way different than cathing a boy where all my expertise lies), but someday she will do it herself and be completely independent.

I thank God for modern medicine everyday and for the U.S. medical system which does not throw these children away as damaged, but knows that with a little help they can rule their lives and be as accomplished as anyone else!

A weekend of Firsts

Last weekend, was the start of the loss of little boy Isaac. Our Webelos 1 den went on their first patrol campout with the parents close at their heels. We were ready to help pitch tents, bandage wounds, douse flames or whatever came up.

To the boys credit, and the parents stunned pride. None of that was needed. We had a great time, and I think Isaac said "Hi, Mom" to me once as he skirted through the parental side of the camp to get something he had left behind.

It was also Sarah's first camping experience. Apprehensive at first, she didn't quite get why I was shoving all our belongings - including her pillow into a thin cloth thing that resembled a giant purse. And when the flashlight clicked off at 11 pm the first night and sucked the tent and everything in it into a black abyss, Sarah was a bit concerned. The new night noises were a little overwhelming at first too.

But after that first night, she settled right in and became little woods girl. She charmed the people we were with and bopped around the campsite like she owned it.

When the time to tear down camp came, Sarah was very upset to see the tent go. She told me several times that she wanted to stay and didn't want to go back home. At least until I reminded her that her toys, clothes and the flushing toilet were at home waiting for us. Then she got in the car.

A Jellyfish Has No Brain

Today I had the pleasure of attending a Mother's Day Program put on by the first grade students. When the pagentry was done, I sat chatting with Aaron and relishing in the time to speak with him without the constant interruptions from the many responsibilities that follow me around.

I questioned him on their recent project on the ocean and its creatures.

He researched crayfish, but wanted me to know about the jellyfish which has no brain. I marvelled at that with him for a moment and then asked him how did the jellyfish know what to do.

His answer: Mom, without a brain, they don't ever get anything right.

How Do You Say B-I-B-L-E

7 months ago Sarah did not know one iota of English. As she began speaking in English, her words still had a very Chinese flavor to them. Mandarain does not end with closed sounds, but everything seems to be open at the end of a phrase. Now this is just an observation, don't take it for fact, but I haven't heard anything end at the back of the throat or with a persons lips closed in Mandarin. So she would say I like-a mama, or I want-a a cookie. Sometimes she still does this and it really can crack me up!

Anyway, Sarah has been here awhile now and has emersed in English. I have been ecstatic to hear her utter words like kitty, mommy, bed, and at this point my list could go on forever -because she knows so much.

However, I was stopped short yesterday when she asked me if she could take her bIIIIIble to Walmart with us.

I did not spell bible incorrectly in the sentence above. I hope that you can hear her say bIIIIble with the long i - stretched to an infinitesimal length. It is just the way a Native East Texan would have said it.

So quickly she has gone from being completely Chinese to being a Texas Cutie Pie.

Dear Teacher

Dear Teacher,

I know when you call me to tell me about my child's behavior that it needs to be done. I know my child can do wrong and I know that my child can infuriate Mother Teresa if in the right mood.

But please, Mrs. Teacher, remember that I am the mom and I love this child dearly. Please remember this is very personal to me and my heart breaks when you tell me what my child has done and what you have done to my child - even if it was an inadvertant wrong.

Mrs. Teacher, when you tell me you have tried everything, please don't be offended when I question you about everything. Please don't assume that I am angry with you or blame you. Please remember that I desire what you do - A happy, well behaved child. But do respect that even with your experience as a teacher, I know this child better. This child is mine.

Sincerely,

The Parent

Our Route 66 Spring Break

How to Feel Like You've Accomplished Something With Three Kids in the House

I have never been a "crafty" person. I have tried to sew. I have tried to scrapbook, make flower arrangements etc. All failures. I was resigned that crafting was not my thing. I could find my creative outlet in other ways. After all, shopping and pedicures took lots less effort.

Then this new little girl came into my life and I went to buy my first hair bow and almost fell over! 8 dollars for a really cute one and I was going to need a bow to match every outfit, especially if she was going to become a proper "bow head".

As luck would have it, my wonderful Sis-in-law (who is very crafty) had just learned to make bows and she consented to teach me. I had my reservations since I stink at everything other craft I've tried, but I pressed on and made a bow, and another, and another...and another.

Success. In fact, I am now getting so good, I feel comfortable giving some away. So two Sunday afternoons ago, I sat down to do a craft. I worked for two hours and made about twenty-five bows. Cute, crafty bows

I felt accomplished - elated. In the midst of a time in my life when nothing is ever finished and my children are so needy, I finished a couple hours of work and saw my progress. Something was done. And then I understood my fellow crafty friends. They craft to express and to see finished work. They get to say, look what I have done. I am accomplished!

Eskimos or Joes

There is a very famous restaurant in Stillwater, OK that my family frequents on our trips to my Alma Mater and to see my husband's mother. (mater, mother...ha ha. )

Anyway, the restaurant is Eskimo Joe's. They have the best Cheese fries on the planet and some really awesome sweet peppered bacon. My family loves it and they love Joe, the Eskimo mascot and his faithful dog, Buffy.

On Saturday, I was alone with Aaron for a short while and he asked me what a "Joe" ate. The question puzzled me and I asked for a repeat. Once again he asked "What does a Joe eat?" I am thinking that Joe is a friend, or an animal, or this is an elaborate 7 year old joke. So I ask him to tell ME what they eat in order to ward off getting stuck as the butt of his joke. Aaron, unfortunately, just looked confused and became more emphatic.

"Mom, what does a Joe eat? You know those cold people in fur that live with the polar bears."

I immediately saw the error of our hamburger, cheese fries eating ways. I suddenly realized that Joe's not only causes clogged arteries, but a complete misrepresentation of an Eskimo and the name Joe. My son is doomed.

Moving Right Along

Sarah has officially moved into the realm of full sentences. These aren't great literary achievements, (yet) but she has asked to go to Grandma's house and asked her Baba Golden for a book. In fact, she won't leave his house without a new book. She even said today, "I love Grandma. I love Baba. He give me book. I love Uncle Matt." This morning she told me "I want the black and white dress." Wow!

Don't think the other side of the family has been left out. She has asked for Aunt Margaret, Keith and her cousin Katie. She talks about sledding in the snow over Christmas break and all the family pets. When we left Grandma Stevens house, she wanted to go back and always asks to talk with her on the phone.

I am past counting the amount of words she knows as they are so vast. I know she has a lot left to learn, but man I am impressed. Even now she is sitting beside me "writing" in her notebook. - from left to right and in very English looking scribbles!