Singin' in the Kitchen

Another Tug on My Heartstrings

2009-03-01T22:59:00.004-06:00

For weeks, I have been longing to go to the Twin Cities for the day. We used to go at least once a month, just for fun, visiting a combination of two or three our favorite stops, like Trader Joe's, Costco, Lego Land, Groth Music, the Science Museum, the Children's Museum, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, and Krispy Kreme, before they shut down every donut shop within 300 miles of Mitchie.

Monday morning's visit won't be just for the fun of it, however. My Uncle Skip, my dad's little brother, is staying in the hospital after suffering a massive heart attack this past Friday night. Our families have not been close for many years, but he has always had a special place in my heart for as long as I can remember. When I was little, he teamed up with Santa at Christmas times to make the holidays extra real for me. One of my most cherished hardcovers, Where the Sidewalk Ends, bears an autograph even more valuable to me than if Shel Silverstein had signed the book himself: Merry Christmas Missy, 1983. Love, Santa and Uncle Skip. My dad and Uncle Skip were business partners at the gas station for many years, following in the footsteps of their father. Because our families rarely see each other, I feel the need to give him a hug, tell him I love him, and remind him to hold fast to that strong, tenacious Fluegge spirit. Whenever we do cross paths at family functions, I look forward to his sparkling eyes and strong, familiar embrace.

I believe he is going to be okay. I don't believe in anything unless I feel *really* feel it in my heart. But I appreciate your prayers for God to heal his heart and I know his family would, too.

My Kids Say the Funniest Things

2009-02-04T19:06:00.003-06:00

Spirited Conversation among Missy, Max, and a very tired, cranky, argumentative, but still sweet Mitchell at the dinner table:

Mommy: Max, you've seen him like this before. Be extra patient. Mitch is so tired he can't even think straight.

Mitchie: Yes I can! Two plus two is four. Ten plus ten is twenty. Forty plus forty is eighty. See?

Holding On

2009-01-18T17:20:00.001-06:00

I wonder what happened to the winter months when I opened my baking cupboard almost every day to create something wholesome or sweet for my loved ones to eat: homemade braided bread, oatmeal cookies, kahlua cakes, whole wheat coffee cake. I wonder what happened to the Monday mornings when I woke up with a smile and thought, This could be the week when I get my house clean. I wonder what happened to the summer afternoons when I took naps with my sons, cuddled together in the humid warmth of the sun and their little bodies. I wonder what happened to the nights when the babies woke up for the fourth time, and I sleepwalked to the living room with their tiny bodies in my arms, their little lips wrapped around my breast for mother's milk and mother's love. I wonder what happened to the years when my boys wore baby-sized clothes and I dressed them in the pumpkin Halloween sleeper, the velvet midnight blue overalls, the white sweater baptism outfits. I wonder what happened to the day when I cried tears of joy as the orderly pushed me to the going-home exit of the hospital, with a real, breathing, beautiful baby boy in my arms.

I want to go door-to-door in my neighborhood, asking each mom if she feels like she is floating, treading water, or holding on to driftwood as the current of daily life pulls her under.

On the First Day of Advent

2008-12-01T21:28:00.003-06:00

Last year I didn't get to live the holiday season the way I wanted to experience it. I was carrying a baby that was not meant to live in this world and my body was overridden with the naseua that is mislabeled as morning sickness. My Christmas tree didn't have a single ornament hanging from its branches. I didn't bake any holiday cookies. I didn't go Christmas shopping with my brothers and Ashley. I didn't attend the annual Christmas Carol Festival at my church.

This holiday season brings its own challenges, but this December I want to experience Advent in all of its splendor. I want to play in the snow with my boys. I want to sled down the hill a dozen times before 2008 comes to a close. I want to attend church services and close my eyes and feel the music inside the part of me that I don't fully understand. I want to bake a dozen holiday recipes and wander through the mall with my family and hang a memory on every single branch of the pine-scented tree. I want to honor old traditions and make new ones. I want to sit in front of the Christmas tree, in front of my favorite chair and think about Mary must have felt, holding the newborn promised child in her arms, looking into her baby's eyes the way I did with my sons. I want Advent to be really special, the way God meant it to be.

We began the first day of December with a Lego Advent calendar, which is not connected meaningfully to Jesus' birth, but it sure has meaning for Max and Mitchie. Their eyes sparkled as they decided who would open the first tiny door in the box containing twenty-four small Lego models. Max won the chance to open today's miniature holiday figure made of bricks, assuring Mitchell and me, "I counted it out in bed this morning. If I open the first one, Mitchell will get to do the last one. That's fair." Max opted to create his own figure out of the dozen small bricks that were inside the tiny bag. We bought the calendar at a post-holiday clearance sale at the Mall of America (which until earlier this year Max thought was actually known as Mall of Come-erica).

The boys played outside for an hour this afternoon, with me watching carefully from the foyer as I swept the floor, put away music class instruments, threw at least six pairs of shoes in the closet, and sorted through accumulated mail, asking them every five minutes, "Are you sure you're staying warm?" I was too grateful for words to hear them playing so well together, building a snow fort, and not fighting. When they came inside, they opted for Brownie Bowls instead of the hot cocoa that never gets finished after the marshmallows have been cherry-picked out of the mug. Betty Crocker, bless your soul!

Before dinner, Max and I hung ornaments on the tree that we had cut down the previous day at the tree farm. Mitchell informed us, "I'm not into decorating. I'm into playing," as he continued another chapter in the daily adventures he masterminds for his "guys." He did manage to hang a handful of ornaments in between battles and mini-dramas. Max and I finished the package of 150 hooks before Max's attention span also waned. The tree looks beautiful, with its twinkling miniature white lights and bubbling 1950's-style candles, but both of us long for the tree we had two years ago, which was the fattest -- we never use that word in our family -- Christmas tree I have EVER seen in my life. We searched the far corners of Choose and Cut Fraser Firs in hopes of finding a replica of that evergreen. This seven-and-a-half footer can't hold all of our mismatched ornaments and collected memories.

Our Advent plans continued at bedtime, when we shared our evening devotion -- When Jesus Comes Again in the Clouds, based on several chapters from the book of Revelations; read a holiday story -- Trouble with Trolls by Jan Brett, one of our favorites -- and sang a Christmas song. Max picked his favorite holiday melody, Deck the Halls, and we sang two verses before the boys were ready to close their eyes.

Take a Picture ... It Will Last Longer

2008-10-24T09:27:00.005-05:00

For years, my brothers have teased me because I take so many pictures. When we were little, we walked around Lake Harriet in late spring in the Twin Cities, my parents leading the way, me scampering back and forth from snapshot to snapshot with my little Fisher-Price 110 camera, Danny dragging along rather unhappily, and Brian smiling good-naturedly in his stroller. Never mind the fact that Danny wanted to turn around and go back the way we came when we were a quarter mile away from the car, almost all the way around the lake. We could almost see the car from our vantage point near the bandstand. Never mind the fact that Brian was too little to even remember how many pictures I took. He would have gladly made funny faces for me for a hundred more photos.

When we get together and reminisce about good times, the subject of Lake Harriet almost always comes into the conversation. For a couple of minutes we talk about Danny's illogical request to "turn around" and walk a few miles to the car instead of a few blocks, and then my brothers craftily switch the conversation to how many pictures I took of the dozens and dozens of ducklings we saw at the lake.

"How could you take a whole roll of pictures of ducks?" they exclaim.

"Good thing you ran out of film!" they continue. The teasing goes on and on.

And the teasing continues at every birthday, holiday, or afternoon on the patio when we are together. "Take a picture, it will last longer!" they used to say. They don't say it anymore because they realized I would take another picture. I ignore almost all of it, because I love taking pictures and I know my photos are good. I love taking photographs of beautiful landscapes and postcard-perfect shots. I love my photograph of the Heidelberg castle in Germany, my shot of the valley of Big Sur National Forest, looking down from the summit at sunset, the picture I took in Yellowstone National Park of the terrace at Mammoth Hot Springs, the photo I snapped of authentic Mexico in Bucerias. I love the picture I took of the view of New Ulm from atop Herman the German because it reminds me of home, somehow painting a thousand memories into one four-by-six photo.

But the pictures I love the most are the ones I didn't plan to treasure. I have so many special pictures of everyday moments that maybe didn't seem special at the time. There is the impromptu photo I snapped of my sister-in-law Christine wearing her pink and purple feather boa when she was the guest of honor at the baby shower I hosted for her. I didn't know she may have already had kidney cancer then and we would have to say goodbye to her a year later. I can't find words to explain the emotions and the trueness of Christine that I captured in that moment.

There is the picture of Grandma Aggie holding Mitchell, him clutching her thin, bony fingers the way he always loved to do, she smiling because she loved it, too. After that, he was too heavy for her to hold, and she died the next year.

There is the picture of ten month-old Max covered in the orange and green of his chopped avacado and macaroni and cheese, sitting naked in his high chair except for a diaper, looking so tiny and lost in that chair that he couldn't even fit in today. At the time, I had thought, How am I ever going to get this kid cleaned up? but now I want that moment back. The picture is the next best thing.

There is the picture of Max smiling joyfully at Epcot Center, holding a very expensive Mickey-Mouse shaped cookie, standing next to an elaborate fountain. The snapshot tells nothing of the fit he threw minutes earlier inside the crowded French bakery, kicking and screaming until I had to haul all forty pounds of him out the door. But I remember, because I have the picture. There is also the picture that Troy snapped of me breastfeeding Mitchell on the ground in the next-door England section of Epcot, back when Mitchell wanted to nurse anywhere and everywhere and all the time. Amazingly and sadly (especially if you know the extent of my extended breastfeeding experience) it's one of the only photos I have of me nursing my boys.

There are the pictures from Mother's Day earlier this year, when Mitchell was having such a tantrum at the little Mexican restaurant we went to for dinner that I had to take him out to the car. The pictures I took of his silly, tired, not-in-control faces while we waited for Max and Troy have given me a hundred smiles in the months that followed that frustrating evening.

I have hundreds of photographs that are just as special to me as this handful of memories. (Just ask my brothers. They will gladly tell you how many gigabytes of digital photos I have.)

You would think that by now I would catch all of those better-take-a-picture moments, after years of practice, but sometimes I still miss the biggies. Two days ago, we returned home after being out of the house for most of the day, and when we opened the front door, the air inside the house seemed colder than the air outdoors. I went upstairs to check the thermostat, and when I saw 64 degrees on the display, I knew it was time. My days of having no heating or cooling bills were over for at least six more months. I reminded the boys that the funny furnace smell would fill the house for a few minutes the first time we turned it on for the season. In winter, our thermostat does reach 64 many times, but that night, I needed to take the chill out of the house, especially since my kiddos don't stay covered at night.

Later that evening, as the boys were getting ready for bed, Max jumped up and down and shouted, "Hey! It's the first day of turning on the furnace! Let's take a picture!"

He sounded *so* much like me in that moment.

"A picture of what?" I asked with curiosity, ignoring my brothers' taunting voices that were getting louder in my head.

"Of us standing next to the vent and shivering," Max said. I didn't take the picture -- but now I wish I would have. Somehow, his joy that evening turned out to be one of those everyday moments that I didn't really treasure until later.

Summer is Not Gone

2008-10-24T08:31:00.006-05:00

Every morning this week has been cold and gray, except for glorious Monday. Glorious Monday is sometimes at the top of my list of oxymorons. Normally, Mondays are my laundry days, my get-a-jump-on-school-for-the-week-days, my days when my expecations for myself are way too high to meet. Mondays are also my new "start the week right" day, and for three weeks now -- it takes 21 days for something good to become a habit! -- I have woke up before everyone else, tied on my battered running shoes, turned up my favorite workout music a little too loud, and made time for running that I thought I didn't have.

This was my best Monday morning run yet. I covered less than two miles, but I had the same euphoric feeling as if I had run eight, and I was fast. But the good feeling didn't come from me or my running ability. It came from the gifts I opened on my run. I ran past a father running his little girl down their long driveway to hop on the bus, and I felt *truly grateful* to be able to homeschool my two sons. I ran past a neighbor who smiled warmly and waved to me as he was driving, and I felt *truly grateful* I am that he survived cancer. I ran past the last brilliant red leaves of sumac hanging delicately onto their branches, and I felt *truly grateful* to be able to see those deep colors in nature's palette and experience each season of the year in its Minnesotan extremes. I ran east just in time to see the sun rise, which seemed to happen in an instant, and I felt *truly grateful* for one more day in this challenging, beautiful world, a day that would be as unique as each new sunrise. I ran home, seeing the white of my breath and feeling the sweat on my skin, and I felt *truly grateful* to be so alive.

I had my moment of summer before the real day even began.

That Queasy Anxious Feeling

2008-10-16T13:30:00.003-05:00

I came close to a real panic attack today. I have lived through panic attacks through loved ones, and I don't mean to joke about such a frightening experience. Honestly. But I'm only half-joking.

Yesterday Troy brought donuts home from this yummy little bakery in Austin. Only half a dozen, thank goodness. The boys screamed so loudly, you would have thought he gave them a million dollars. This bakery happens to bake my favorite kind of donut in the whole world, the one I really can't find anywhere else, now that Krispy Kreme no longer exists in Minnesota. I'm talking about a light, fluffy roll with fluffy white creme filling in the center. The Krispy Kreme version was glazed, and the rolls from this bakery are dusted with granulated sugar. Since Austin is an hour away, it's not like I can get another donut like that whenever I want. There is -- no, there was -- one of them left in the box. I really wanted it. I knew if I didn't eat it now, someone else was going to eat it, or it would be hard in the box in the morning, instead of soft and creamy like it was right at that moment.

I had finally decided that I was not going to eat it, No Matter What, and even though I felt empowered, I also felt pretty nervous. I didn't know when I would get my next donut fix. Bravely, I cut the donut in half and commanded the boys to eat it.

As if that weren't enough to conquer emotionally -- because most of us know that food is twenty percent nutrition and eighty percent emotion -- Mitch picked that exact moment to ask me in his sweetest voice, "Mom, how much longer am I going to be a kid?"

That is the moment when I should have taken a deep cleansing breath, but instead, I couldn't breathe. First, no donut. Next, my kid, my baby, is reminding me that he is only going to be a kid for thirteen more years.

I looked at him, sitting in the booster chair that he doesn't really need anymore, wearing the size six diaper that he doesn't really need anymore either, but he loves them both with his whole being. His blue eyes were animated and his blonde curls, a little too long. He looked so little with no other clothes on, and I smiled when I saw the curve of his little shoulders and his round tummy. For a child who doesn't even weigh forty pounds, he was asking such a big boy question. He looked at me earnestly for my response. This week we have been working on recognizing numbers, putting them in order, reading a calendar, and adding, and I knew the mathematical answer was really important to him.

I answered in my teacher voice, which came out sounding kind of like the silly high voice I use in music class, "Well, I hope you stay a kid even when you are an adult."

I knew that answer wasn't enough , so I added, in my normal voice, "But most people say you are an adult when you are eighteen, so ... that ... gives you ............. thirteen more years," pretending to do the math, when I was really just buying time to not have to say the number out loud. I could have won an Emmy for that one-liner, because my words were matter-of-fact, even casual, completely devoid of the sad, nervous feeling that was spreading to my fingertips, my voice, my lungs. I didn't want Mitch to feel the pressure of not growing up just to keep his mom happy. If he chooses to be childlike, curious, excited, spirited, imaginative, playful, and full of big dreams for his whole life, I want him to choose that because it feels so good, not because his mom can't imagine him being all grown up. I felt that panicky feeling inside of me again, inside my chest near my heart and lungs, but maybe it was really a moment of chaos in my soul. I've heard that people see the years of their life flash before them in moments of trouble. I was trying to see the years of my life that have not yet happened: days without bathtime fights as I wash the shampoo from his hair, nights when the only teeth I brush are my own, afternoons to read a grown-up book instead of a kids' chapter book. Those are the moments that many moms wait for, especially at the end of a long day, or in the middle of a tantrum at Target. Sometimes I do that, too. But mostly I want these days to last and last and they are going too fast.

So suddenly the donut thing wasn't such a big deal anymore.

Summer, Wait! I'm Not Finished With You Yet!

2008-10-16T10:00:00.002-05:00

The summer of 2008 was the shortest, busiest, hardest summer of my life. But I'm so sad that it's over.

I would wish it back just to experience another five-mile run, my body drenched in sweat and sunshine; another swim in the pool, every inch of me surrounded by water and the boys' laughter; another afternoon to pick tomatoes from the garden and eat them by the handful; another week of admiring my caramel-colored skin; another match on the tennis courts when it's really too hot out to play; another dinner of grilled farmer's market veggies and tri-tip; another pitcher of margaritas when it's perfectly acceptable to have a refill; another trip to the garden center to choose a dozen shades of beautiful to plant in the dirt; another impromptu stop at the ice cream shop, where six dollars buys two big smiles that will be etched in my memory forever, even though the ice cream disappeared in minutes. The tastes, the smells, the sensations of summer make every cell in my body feel truly alive.

Last weekend the last hope of one more summer day was washed, dried, folded, and packed into a plastic storage bin. The Easy Set pool (the oxymoron of the year) is no longer an empty eyesore in the backyard, collecting bugs and leaves and bacteria. It is stowed indoors for use next summer, which will indeed come faster than any of us can believe, even thought sunshine-filled days off feel so far away today. Fifteen thousand gallons of water holds so much promise for me.

Do you ever have a conversation that wasn't meant to be profound, but you aren't able to ever forget it? It was like that two summers ago when both of my beautiful grandmothers came to visit. I love them so much. My dad's mom and my mom's mom were born in the same year, 1926, within three weeks of each other. We were talking about how fast that summer had passed, and how in the world did Mitchell grow into a toddler so quickly, and Max into a boy? My grandmas couldn't believe how fast their days go, from morning until evening, as they search for time and energy to do tasks like getting the mail, going to the store, checkups at the doctor, washing a load of laundry, heating up some dinner.

"Didn't you think life really sped up after we hit fifty?" one of them asked the other.

"Oh, yes," the other one answered. "That's when time really started going fast."

Fifty years old? That's when time really goes fast?! I trust my grandmas one hundred percent, and I award both of them honorary doctorates in life experience. Between the two of them, they have experienced every possible challenge in life as women, mothers, and wives.

Does that mean that the days that disappear now are actually moving slowly? How do I resolve that with my summer that said goodbye to me while I was still welcoming it to my life, inviting it to come in a stay for awhile? Just stay for coffee and sit a spell. Please.

So today I am not mourning the end of summer, like I did last weekend, but I am wondering how to create those moments that feel like summer in all of its glory. Two of the wisest women I know told me that no matter what the calendar says, no matter what the laws of physics say, no matter that we get an extra day every four years for leap year, that time is indeed going faster every day.

I want one moment of summer every day.

The Feel Good Story of the Summer

2008-07-29T21:08:00.005-05:00

My friend Heidi recently sent me an email with a link to the story of Christian the Lion. You have to watch this! You will have tears in your eyes and a happy tightness in your throat, just like I did. God bless the animals and the people who care for them so lovingly!

You can learn more about Christian and other wildlife kept in the wild at www.bornfree.org.uk.

The Political Alternative Rock Star

2008-07-23T22:31:00.002-05:00

Click here for more information about Ron Paul's Rally in Minnesota this Septmeber!

How to Grill

2008-07-09T17:46:00.002-05:00

My brother Danny sent me this humorous e-mail today. Does it apply to your situation?

BBQ RULES

We are about to enter the summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity, as it's the only type of cooking a 'real' man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.

When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

(1) The woman buys the food.

(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.

(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.

Here comes the important part:

(4) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

(5) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.

(6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.

(7)THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.

(8) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins,sauces, and brings them to the table.

(9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:

(10) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.

(11) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed her 'night off.' And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women....

Sunday in Pictures: Cloudy Days Aren't Always Gray

2008-07-06T22:01:00.010-05:00

Saturday in Pictures: The Fourth of July

2008-07-05T13:05:00.002-05:00

Welcome Home, Bangalore Blondes!

2008-07-02T19:51:00.007-05:00

This morning we met Heather, Brian, Ella, Sacia, and Zachary at the Rochester International Airport! They arrived home from India, after nearly thirty hours of traveling, at 8:30. We joined Heather's family -- her parents John and Barb, sisters Katrinna and Jill, and nephew Erik -- for a very happy reunion.

I was so happy to see my dear friend Heather and her husband, but the highlight of the hugfest for me was watching the kids reunite. Two-and-a-half year-old Zachary watched everyone with keen interest. Ella and Max rekindled their friendship in a matter of seconds. Mitchell was shy at first, hiding safely behind Max, and Sacia was equally hesitant, clinging to her mom, but I took both of them in my minvian (along with lots of luggage) and soon they were old friends again.

The drive to their house was so entertaining! I loved every noisy, hilarious second of the trip, including the thirty times Sacia said, "That's not my house," as we drove past other houses toward her Minnesota home. Mitchie eagerly showed Sacia his collection of current treasures, including his plastic carnival fish, double-tanked in a vending machine case and a recycled plastic jar; he carries them everywhere in his "Puerto Vallarta Purse," the striped yellow bag he has loved since our trip to Mexico when he was two. He snapped photo after photo, most of them just to squeal at the sight of the flash, with his disposable camera. Mitchell and Sacia sang songs, had a screaming contest, and spent a great deal of time discussing "poop" and bottoms and talking gibberish. The yellow daisies Mitch gave Sacia were used as a weapon, and I couldn't have been happier to confiscate the flowers; seeing those two towheads together, laughing and smiling, filled my heart with joy. It was as if they had just played together yesterday, instead of ten months ago.

"I call my dad a pig," Sacia informed Mitchell.

"Then I'll call my dad a pig, too," Mitchell replied, laughing hysterically.

"I bet your dad doesn't like that," I told Sacia. They both ignored me.

"Let's scream," Sacia said.

"Okay," said Mitch, and the screams began. Their pitches used to match perfectly, but this time, Sacia's voice was a little higher.

For the first time in months, we explored the beautiful backyard with our friends, shared sandwiches, and watched the kids play happily together. Zachary explored his house, discovering new toys around every corner. He must have felt like he was wandering through his own personal toy store. Sacia said, "I have to go to the bathroom. Where's the toilet?" Her dad jokingly pointed to the woods, and then she managed to find her way to the real bathroom. Sacia and Mitchell played together in her bedroom with bristle blocks and Disney dolls, while Max and Ella hung out like the big kids they have become. Max was so excited to give Ella the jeweled angel pin he had bought for her months ago.

Ella easily talked me into a game of house, this time a more grown-up version than our previous sessions: She was Ellen Cook ("You can call me Miss Cook"), a pilot, ballet dancer ("It's all in the hips"), singer ("I see my future in the clouds"), and composer ("I just thought of that song right now") with a heavy British accent that she had likely mastered from one or more friends at her interational school. Ella ... ahem, Miss Cook ... loved wearing my wedge sandals, and they fit her even better than when she left for India last summer.

When it was time for the three of us to head for home, Sacia called lovingly to Mitch, "Honey, I'll see you tomorrow and we can talk silly. I love you, Mitchell!"

"I love you, too," Mitchell called from the car.

It Feels Like Just Yesterday

2008-07-01T23:27:00.006-05:00

This is the blog entry I didn't want to write. The timing is terrible, and I prefer to share my faith in God with others in a more subtle way, talking about my blessings, my church involvement, my Bible study group. There was a time when I chuckled silently, yet listened politely, when someone said, "God told me to do this." I didn't think God did that anymore; that only happened in the Bible. I wasn't there yet. Then there was a time when I said, "Why isn't God speaking to me?" I wanted to hear His words. I wanted to join that special club of people who had real conversations with God, but I didn't know how to become a member.

Today God spoke to me. It was not good timing. I woke up with a migraine, and for the first time in my life, the pain migrated from the base of my skull, all the way into the right side of my jaw, like I had read about in websites and books. For the rest of the day, I battled flu-like symptoms, meanwhile taking the boys to swimming lessons, the grocery store, and a baseball game in a car with a freshly-charged air conditioner that decided today would be a good day to stop working. I forgot to bring treats and drinks for Max and his teammates after their game, as I had signed up to do a few weeks ago. I wanted to throw up but I couldn't. I had a mental to-do list that could have stretched across the unscrubbed kitchen floor.

In the midst of our normal daily summer activities, we spent the day thinking about and discussing the event of the year in our family: Heather and her family's return to Rochester. Heather, her husband Brian, and their sweet children Ella, Sacia, and Zachary, some of our very closest friends in the world, have spent the past ten months across the world from us, immersed in Indian culture in Bangalore, India. They will be home in eight hours for an extended visit. We are so excited to see them, hug them, hear about their travel adventures, and resume our at-least-twice-a-week playdates and shared mealtimes. For nearly a year, we have exchanged emails, gifts, webcam chats, and phone conversations, all the while wondering when they would return home.

In the morning, we will meet them at the airport, joining their family to welcome them back to the States. The boys have been counting down the hours for three days now, and they both have special gifts to give their little friends, and I'm sure they will be awake shortly after dawn in anticipation of the big homecoming. Mitchie decided tonight after bedtime prayers and stories that he would give Sacia a big "licky kiss," one of his Mitchell Specialties he has been practicing on the webcam for Sacia for months, but I think I managed to convince him to offer his little world-traveling sweetheart a regular kiss instead of the licky version. Max used his own money to buy his beloved Ella a sparkling guardian angel pin. ("Do you think it's made out of real diamonds, Mom?")

For several days, I have been thinking with amazement how quickly these past ten months have passed. When Heather told me early last year that they were indeed taking a special assignment to India through Brian's job, I couldn't imagine how we would spend so many months without our friends. When they left the States for a short "survey trip" to acquaint themselves with their area of India, I cried sad tears as I thought of what the real goodbye would be like when they would be gone for a year or more. When they left, we watched for their plane to fly over our house, calling their names into the sky. When New Year's Eve ended 2007 without our friends with us to share a champagne toast and fireworks (I went to bed early that night), I thought, How Much Longer? and now, finally, suddenly, they are coming home. The time passed so quickly. It feels like just yesterday they were leaving for India, another world to us.

I wondered where the time went, much the same way I wonder how Max grew into an eight-year old (it feels like just yesterday that he was born, after twelve hours of labor), and when Mitchell became a soon-to-be kindergartener (it feels like just yesterday that _he_ was born, after five hours of labor), and how in the world I have been out of high school for two reunion's worth of years (it feels like just yesterday I was saying hi to friends in the hallways). I kept thinking about one of my favorite Bible verses, the one that brought me great comfort after baby Gabriel's death ten years ago, 2 Peter 3:8, which states,

"But forget not this one thing, beloved, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day."

At that challenging time in my life, I interpreted that scripture to mean it would feel like forever to me until I would see my baby again, yet to the Lord, the time would be short. I was comforted. Since then, I have learned a more complex and accurate interpretation of that verse, yet I still take comfort in the many reminders of the promise of Heaven and the way those words reassured me when I was feeling lost in this world.

I don't mean to compare a ten-month separation from dear friends to losing a loved one from this world. I know it's not the same as losing a parent, a grandparent, a child, a best friend, or another someone special. I knew we had a chance to say goodbye. I knew our reunion would be sooner, rather than later. I knew my friends were safe and happy across the world from me. I could see their faces on my computer; I could hear their voices over the telephone. Being separated from a loved one by death can feel like forever, especially for people who may not believe in God or for those who question if Heaven is real. Even for those of us who believe in God with as much faith as humanly possible (which is still smaller than a mustard seed, though we can ask God to help us become stronger), the almost-magical idea of Heaven can be hard to comprehend. Those painful, grief-stricken days can be filled with the worst kind of darkness imaginable.

Yet today I couldn't help but think, This must be what it will be like to be reunited with loved ones in Heaven. I couldn't help but think ...

Someday I will hold my babies and say, It feels like just yesterday I carried you inside of me!

Someday I will kiss my uncle and say, It feels like just yesterday you were making me treasures out of wood and holding me on your lap and making everyone smile!

Someday I will embrace my friend and say, It feels like just yesterday I watched you play hockey and listened to you laugh!

Someday I will greet my friend's parents and say, It feels like just yesterday I was at your house, hanging out with your daughter and watching PG-13 videos!

Someday I will hug my friend's husband and say, It feels like just yesterday you gave me one of your big, strong bear hugs!

On that glorious day, when we are reunited with our loved ones in Heaven, just like the special "practice" reunion two families will share in the morning, the miles and the months and the lonely times will disappear in a collection of hugs and happy tears. That is what Gold told me today.

Rochesterfest: Best of Times 2008

2008-06-28T12:45:00.007-05:00

I'm missing summer days and sunshine tonight. Enjoy a memory with me! Spring is 50 days away and sundress season is 123 days and counting. We went to Rochesterfest last summer wtih friends, enjoying the parade, cotton candy, and the bouncy castle.

Queen For A Day

2008-06-26T23:59:00.000-05:00

Today was a really tough day. I don't feel like posting about my troubles -- they will make a great blog story when I am able to look back and laugh about them -- so I decided to pull a happy day out of my magic hat of unfinished blog drafts.

Way back on May 21, over a month ago the boys and I had a magical day. I got to take a million pictures (okay, a couple hundred), play my favorite sport with my favorite boys, go shopping, and plant flowers.

The three of us played tennis for the first time this season, and Max and Mitchie thought I was the most awesome tennis player they had ever seen. (I probably was, since they haven't seen many tennis players.) The praise flowed endlessly from their sweet little lips, and it was yummier to me than a chocolate fountain. I soaked it all up, and when I was worried they were done giving out free compliments, I showed them my serve. Back in my tennis glory days, the first official serve of the first day of practice was very important to me; as silly as it sounds now, I was convinced then it was the best predictor of the outcome of my season. (Back then, I also wasted a little energy thinking about horoscopes and black cats crossing my path.) On this hot, sunny afternoon, I smoked an ace across the court as they watched with wide, amazed eyes. That hour on the court made up for a dozen bedtime struggles and at least a week's worth of, "I am not going to eat that for dinner!"

After our tennis time and visit to the adjacent playground, we stopped at Lowe's so the boys could choose flowers from the garden center for their pots. They chose their favorites and we had so much fun planting them early that evening.

It was good to be queen that day (and my mom says I'm always A Princess).

Mitchell picked me the hugest dandelion I have ever seen.

I saved it in a vase until it smelled so awful that I couldn't keep it any longer.

I saved the memory forever with this closeup.

Isn't Minnie the cutest dog ever?

Max enjoys his own bit of magic as he scatters dandelion seeds and makes a wish.

Mitchell loves to play The Foolish Game. He invented it with Max.

Mitchie climbs onto playground equipment, puts his little body in a precarious pose,

and says to me,

"Look, Mama, how foolish I am!"

Max finds treasures wherever we go, including this half walnut shell

he wanted to bring home to feed our "pet squirrel."

Mitch never falls asleep in the car. As my family likes to say, he was pooped out!

The wrestling is always just a moment away.

Saturday in Pictures

2008-06-22T01:24:00.007-05:00

I Wish I Didn't Feel Scared

2008-06-20T19:25:00.009-05:00

Today I went to the cemetery to water the flowers that bloom in honor of my babies. As the boys and I neared the heavy wrought-iron gates, I drove on the left side of the street to make room for an older gentleman on his bicycle who was also headed toward the cemetery. The boys waited in the air-conditioned comfort of the minivan during my quick stop, allowing themselves more time to play at nearby Mayo Park when I was done watering the flowers.

I filled the watering can with cold water from the spout that looks just like the one at the cemetery in New Ulm that I remember from times I went with my mom and my Nana to water the flowers they had planted at Grandpa Burdorf's and Uncle Dale's graves. Now so many of my cherished friends are buried nearby my grandather and my uncle: my cousin Nicole Rae Burdorf, born still years ago that seem like yesterday; my friend Chet Petersen, who died of a heart attack, when he was 31 -- my age now; my friend Jeremy Booth who died in a motorcycle accident like my uncle; my childhood idol Laura Kastmann, a beautiful cheerleader and gifted writer; Melissa Larsen's dad, an amazing pastor who died during our senior year; Ted and Jim's mom, Bettianne Wirtz, who wanted her funeral to be a celebration of life; Molly Mammen's dad, Harlan, who raised one of my best friends from high school; Erica Reiger, my classmate; Missy Linbo's parents. I bring all of them flowers in the summer. Thank goodness for the promise of Heaven.

After I finished watering my flowers, I used the leftover water to fill the pots of nearby plants. Parents or grandparents had brought geraniums, petunias, daises, pansies, and even a potted rose bush to honor the babies they missed so much. Three families I know well also have babies in this part of the cemetery. As I returned to the water spout for to fill the watering can again, I was startled to see a man wearing a bike helmet waiting there. I had not even noticed him watching me. Lost deep in thought, and concerned about my boys in the car, I didn't realize he was the same man on the bike we had passed a few minutes ago, and I didn't realize he was waiting for the watering can.

"I'm waiting to use that," he said. "Do you water all the flowers here?"

I wasn't sure if he was asking out of curiosity or impatience. "Sometimes," I told him. I felt ill-at-ease for the sake of my boys in the car. I was glad my body was in between this stranger and my vehicle. I thought I would be faster than he would.

"Are all these babies?" he asked increduously. This time, the curiosity was evident in his voice.

"Most of them," I answered. "Some of them are older."

"Are there any five year-olds?" He wondered aloud.

I could tell something was different about him, from his questions and his body language. "I don't think so," I said. "Some of the children buried here are two or three years old." I spoke those words like an old pro, not letting the pain of my answer reach my heart today. Babies. Two year-olds. Buried here. Most of the time, it's easier to think about watering flowers than to think about why.

"There is another baby section at the cemetery," I told him. "Up that way," I said, pointing to the center of the cemetery.

"More babies," he said as a statement, rather than a question.

"I'm going to water my relatives' flowers," he said. "Some of the flowers died, so my relatives planted artificial flowers instead."

"I bet they look pretty," I answered.

"Do you mind if I fill this once more?" I asked, gesturing to the watering can. "Then you can use it." There were a few more pots with drooping, thirsty flowers, and it would only take a minute to give them a drink. I was hoping some parents would be surprised and gladdened when they came to water their plants, realizing that someone had already remembered their flowers and their baby.

"I can water some of the flowers, too," he offered sincerely. He continued, "Do you have a baby here?"

"I have three babies here," I answered, my voice mixed with pride and sadness.

"What happened?" He asked me with genuine interest. His voice stumbled over the words, yet he lacked the discomfort that many adults show when they talk with parents whose children have died out of turn.

"One of them didn't have any kidneys," I explained. That's hard for anyone to understand, yet he seemed to grasp it without question.

"Oh," he said.

"The other two babies were miscarriages," I continued.

I passed him the watering can.

"There's still some water left," he noted.

I wanted to ask him about his relatives.

He tried to find the right words to ask me one more question. "Did you get any kids out of it?"

"I have two sweet, healthy boys in the car," I answered with a smile.

"How old are they?" he asked.

"Eight and four. I am so blessed to have them."

I watched him walk to one grave, then another, slowly pouring water onto the blossoming flowers. I knew I would come back next time and find out who he missed. I would walk to those graves and read the names. I would pray for that man. I wished that I didn't have to feel scared when I met a kind soul at the cemetery. I coveted his peaceful manner. I wanted to ask him to tell me a story of the person he was remembering today. I wondered if he was missing his mom or his dad or someone else who was very, very dear to him. I wondered if I would ever feel safe talking to a stranger in a cemetery. I wished society hadn't forced me to worry about personal safety and self-defense. I wanted to thank him for asking about my babies.

I am so blessed. Blessed because God has given me three angel babies in Heaven who are waiting to meet me someday; blessed because God has answered my prayers, sending me his two sweetest angels to care for on this Earth; and blessed because God sends me other angels, unexpectedly, when I need them to teach me about this amazing world.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

2008-06-13T22:37:00.009-05:00

Last Tuesday evening, Max had his first baseball game of the season. Earlier that night, we went shopping at Dick's Sporting Goods for cleats, and we left the store with a pair of size 2.5 Nike's -- Max and Mitchell were absolutely entralled with the color swatch inserts that change the color of the Nike Swoosh to match your team's colors -- and the most adorable pair of size large youth baseball pants and two pairs of blue-and-white baseball socks, which are different than the stirrups and knee-highs I remember my dad wearing when he used to pitch in a softball league.

Sweet, sweet, SWEET!

Max hit hard both times at bat, and as he was about to take his first swing, Mitchell called out impulsively, "I LOVE YOU, MAX!" His sweet, loud voice melted my heart and the hearts of all the moms within hearing distance. Perhaps Max was equally inspired, because on his first hit of the season, he had enough time to advance the bases, one at a time, and get back home for a score. His fielding skills have really improved, and he has impeccable aim with his throws. Troy thoroughly enjoyed his debut as third base coach, especially when one of the neighbor boys confided in him, "This is the farthest I have ever gotten! I am so excited, I think I am going to throw up!" We were so happy to see him reach home base triumphantly!

Max waits attentively for some action in the infield. His favorite position is playing the outfield, perhaps because he has time to think, watch the game, and even daydream, and he doesn't have to wear any of that heavy catcher's gear out there. Last year when he played the infield, his favorite pasttime was "making smoke," as Mitchell calls it, by kicking the sand and watching the dust fly. Coach Darrin's number one rule is "Have Fun" and the number two rule is "Be Ready" in the field, with gloves and eyes waiting to field the ball. Max was the most "ready" I have ever seen him during his first game as a future third-grader.

Earlier in the day, I had exhausted almost every tool in my parenting toolbox with Little Mitchie. My last resort was taking away his ritual trip to the concession stand, located conveniently in the center of the four ballfields and stocked with lots of sugary treats, including Mitchell's favorites: ring pops and rope licorices that are long enough to jump rope. I didn't think I would actually have to take away that privilege, but I had to do that, as well as take away his post-game trip to Dairy Queen when he didn't eat more than two bites of dinner. By the second inning of the game, Mitchell was tired of playing catch with me, so to pass the time away, he was happy to make lots of silly faces while I snapped photo after photo, until the batteries in my camera were out of power. I have said this before, but we have The Cutest Boys Ever! (No offense if you have the Cutest Boys Ever, too!)

The game ended with boys from both teams hurrying to give high-fives as chilly raindrops fell from picture-perfect clouds. The rain passed quickly, and the resulting sunset was beautiful. The purples and peaches were pierced with angry screams as Mitchell kicked my seat _hard_ while we waited in the drive-through lane at Dairy Queen for Max's Butterfinger and Cookie Dough Blizzard. He really wanted to share it with Mitch but I have learned that sometimes being a mom means being the bad guy. I hope to post great pictures after next week's game of Mitchell happily eating every last drip of a sugary Star Kiss ... or 'Tar Kiss, as he calls it!

N-E-W-U-L-M

2008-06-13T21:13:00.006-05:00

This past Sunday, the boys and I traveled to New Ulm to attend my friend Katie's graduation open house. Her sister Jenna graduated last year. I am so proud of both of them! I am blessed to know their family and to have been friends with their big brother Chet, who died of a heart attack two years ago at the age of 31.
Later that night, Danny, Ashley, and I visited Brian at Otto's, the bar Brian manages in New Ulm. We almost had the place to ourselves: the only other patrons were Brian's co-workers who were hanging out at their workplace on their night off (What can I say -- My brother is one cool guy!), a couple of fifty-ish out-of-towners, and Chris the Bartender, who makes delicious drinks. As Brian explained The Mug Club to me, pointing out the long rows of glass mugs hanging from hooks above the bar, and his friend "gambled" for free drinks with the bottlecaps from Lakemaid Beer, another genius brainchild of New Ulm's own Schell's Brewery, I felt like we were starring in our own episode of Cheers.

The next day, the boys played with their favorite New Ulm toys, inlcuding the play-doh fridge set, Uncle Brian's old-school Fisher-Price Western Town, and the new, all-time, play-all-day-if-they-could favorite, Uncle Danny's bar top touch-screen video game system. I don't even know what it's called, but everyone loves it, except perhaps for my mom, who would really like it better if it were somewhere other than her kitchen countertop. He bought the machine on ebay, and it's identical to the video game systems you find at bars; choose your game, put in a quarter (Danny says BRING YOUR OWN but we use his!) and get ready for some fun screen time.

On Monday afternoon, we visited Lincoln Park, which has undergone major changes since the days I used to play there for Vacation Bible School and junior high tennis practice. The trails I used to explore with friends are still there, and along those same wooded trails nestled in between backyards, the boys collected armloads of unique rocks to bring home.

Max holds on tight to Mitchie, worried that his little brother might slide down the hill. Below, Max shows off some of his prized finds.

On the way back to the playground area of the park, Max and Mitch fought about who got to carry the plastic bag full of heavy rocks. I convinced Max to let Mitchell have the first turn, and after Mitchie hauled the rocks a few feet, the argument was settled, and Max got to carry the bag ... until the bottom tore open, and then I got to carry it.

Max and Mitch pose for a picture with Nana Fluegge.

That night, Nana Burdorf and I drove to Swany's Pizza in Courtland to pick up a yummy dinner. I learned that Swany's is owned by one of my cousins on the Fluegge side of the family. Their pizza is among the best I have ever tasted. I ate too much pepperoni and pineapple! Max and Mitch stood still just long enough to snap a photo with Nana Burdorf before she went home that evening.

On our way out of town the next day, as one of our New Ulm traditions, we stopped at Grandpa Steve's gas station, SSL Auto Service Center, to fill the tank and choose candy for the ride home. Grandpa bought the treats ... but not the gas!

Good Times

2008-06-11T12:06:00.006-05:00

Tomorrow is a daycare day with our friends Elleana and Maverick. Last week they came over twice and we had so much fun. Last Monday, Maverick fell asleep during lunch, and on Tuesday evening, the four kids shared air-popped popcorn and watched a Cordoruy the Bear video, cuddled together on the loveseat. Maverick thought it would be a great night to climb the little red chair and scale the glass table for the first time. When Max played with him on the floor, he laughed so hard, to the point of exhaustion. When was the last time you can say you laughed until your stomach hurt? When we began taking care of the kids last year, Maverick had just learned to roll over.
Strawberries on Monday, more strawberries on Tuesday ...

Give Maverick a remote or a real phone, and you will see the happiest baby ever!

Sleepyheads!!!

After the Rain

2008-06-11T08:25:00.005-05:00

I won't join the throngs of Minnesotans complaining about the seemingly endless rainy, cloudy days that mark the beginning of our summer. I love the smell of rain, and those cloudy afternoons are perfect for taking pictures. I captured these images this past Saturday night, in between storms.

Health Food for Thought

2008-06-10T16:52:00.001-05:00

You gain strength, courage and confidence

by every experience

in which you really stop to look fear in the face.

You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Ron Paul Visits Rochester: Chalk One Up on the Famous People List

2008-06-06T10:55:00.000-05:00

WE MET RON PAUL!!!

Despite earning fifteen percent of the popular vote in the Minnesota Republican primary earlier this year, Ron Paul was not allowed to speak at the state Republican convention last week in Rochester. However, we were excited beyond words to actually meet him after hearing his message in Mayo Memorial Park two Fridays ago. I felt starstruck, and I wasn't standing next to a rockstar or my favorite actor; I was posing for a picture next to a presidential hopeful, one of the most brilliant visionaries of our time.

Earlier that morning, outside the civic center, about five hundred supporters listened to Ron Paul speak about liberty. Max, Mitchell, and I arrived a couple of minutes before the 7:30 a.m. start time. Before he took the stage, we were privileged to hear thoughts from Barb Davis White, a candidate for United States Congress. If I lived in Minnesota's Fifth District, part of the Twin Cities, I would vote for her with confidence. Her words were heartfelt; her voice shoke with emotion as she expressed her disappointment in her fellow Republicans who would not allow Ron Paul to speak inside the convention. She made a bold statement that today's children are like "slaves" to the taxes and challenges they will face as they grow up. As an African-American who shares the heritage and pain of generations of former slaves, I knew she could not make such a claim lightly. Her ability to relate to diverse individuals was easily evident in her words, likely due to her valuable life experiences as a mother, widow, and pastor. She said the highest compliment a constituent had paid her was the comment, "I might vote for you." She was touched by those words because a voter was interested in the issues facing our state and society.

During his appearance, supporters cheered collectively as Dr. Paul discussed his thoughts on sound monetary policy (Did you know the Federal Reserve, which controls our nation's money supply, is actually a private company, not a government entity?), American intervention policy in other countries (Did you know we have troops in over 130 countries around the world?), and his voting record in the United States Congress (Did you know Ron Paul was the only presidential candidate to vote against the Iraq War Resoloution?). Click here to watch a four-minute clip of Ron Paul's speech.

If I had heard his speech eight months ago ...

before I really learned about the controversies in Iraq,

before I really learned the background information about our nation's central banking system,

before I really learned about the benefits for many people of Health Savings Account options, tax credits for healthcare expenses, and other healthcare alternatives,

before I really learned what our family, as individuals and business owners, pay in taxes and health care costs in one year (sorry, no clickable link to our 2007 tax forms),

... I might have dismissed his views as "out there," like others before me and the mainstream media have done. But I have learned about our country and our global society, through conversations, books, and websites during the past year, and I support Ron Paul more than any other leader.

We followed him into the convention center after his speech ended, hoping for a glimpse of him on the way to our cars. We couldn't stay longer for the convention, and I didn't expect that our presence would make a difference in the Republican determination that would prevent Ron Paul from receiving any delegates that day. Troy had to get back to work and a day full of appointments, and the boys and I were on our way to our end-of-the-school-year Peace Kids carnival and picnic. I was disappointed that I had forgotten to bring my copy of Ron Paul's bestseller, Revolution: A Manifesto in case I could have had it signed by the author.

We were almost close enough to touch Ron Paul when Troy asked his Minnesota campaign manager, Marianne Sebbins, "Could you please take our photograph with Ron Paul?" as he handed her the camera. I'm sure she took one look at us, noting Troy's suit and tie, Max's and Mitchell's homeschool shirts, and my proud-mother-duck smile, and sized us up as a perfect photo opportunity. Plus, anyone can tell, our boys are darn cute!

We waited patiently for our turn as Dr. Paul signed copy after copy of his book. Finally, it was our turn! Ron Paul motioned for us to come closer, and he asked the boys, "Where did you get that great hair?" Then he looked at me (and maybe also looked at Troy's shaven head) and said, "Your mom?" and for once I was one hundred percent happy with my natural curlier-every-year hair. After our picture, Dr. Paul held up both of his hands in the direction of Max and Mitch and smiled at them, then everyone else, announcing, "These children are the future of America!"

Could there be a prouder moment for a parent? Dr. Paul reached out his hand to Max, and after a moment's hesitation, Max shook his hand, in complete awe. I, too, was in awe as I offered sincerely, "God bless." Whether or not you agree with all of Dr. Paul's views, having him introduce your children to a crowd of politically-minded people as "the future" is an honor.

Earth Day Two

2008-06-05T20:27:00.002-05:00

T oday, June 5, is World Environment Day, a day created by the United Nations to promote global awareness of preserving our earth. Each year, leaders choose a different theme and host city.

I discovered a blog full of beautiful images about our world called The Big Picture. It is impossible not to think about the rest of our big world after visiting this site. On my computer, some of the images did not load properly, but I could view them by clicking on the "view more images" link.

Longing for Long Days

2008-06-04T21:31:00.001-05:00

T onight I am so tired. I've had less than twelve hours of sleep from Sunday until now, and the rest of the week doesn't offer any opportunities for rest. I crawled under the covers at seven earlier tonight for a quick snooze, which went as fast as the nine minutes I get when I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock.

Max and Mitchell were dolls today until about four o'clock. The rest of the day brought new meaning to the "witching hour." Fortunately, we had already said goodbye to James at the checkout at Target, the groceries and unexpected purchases were loaded into the minivan, and we were safely, nearly home when the tired-boy-tirades began. Later, after a challenging end to the school day and a dinner that would have been entertaining if they had been someone else's kids, I listened to Mitchell fight valiantly for his cause -- we didn't know what his cause was -- while he brushed his teeth and watched Max finish his night in an exhausted, silly stupor, I thought, this is so hard.

Two hours later, the boys were sound asleep, Mitchell in his size six diapers -- even though he stays dry all night, every night -- and Max in his green army men boxers, surrounded by their beloved, miniature stuffed animals and panting dogs, and I had savored every second of my evening nap. I scanned through the A section of our local paper, my eyes still heavy. On the editorial page, I found an opinion piece written by one of my favorite national columnists, Leonard Pitts. His pieces are always thought-provoking and tonight's article about his daughter's high school graduation pulled hard on my heartstrings instead of tugging on my brain cells.

After I finished reading it, I knew that my recent long days weren't as hard as the long days Mr. Pitts and scores of other parents and friends have likely experienced in the past couple of weeks as they watch their babies don cap and gown and pose for starry-eyed pictures with the friends they have known for years. All of us wonder, where have the years gone? I know Mr. Pitts would give anything to fight about brushing teeth and finishing schoolwork again, and I know someday, hopefully for those same happy reasons, I will long for these long days again, too.

Ron Paul to Visit Rochester

2008-05-28T12:20:00.008-05:00

Late this morning I made my almost-daily stop at http://www.ronpaul2008.com/. I was amazed to learn that this Friday, May 30, Ron Paul will be speaking at Mayo Memorial Park, right here in Rochester, next to the civic center. That exciting news was tempered by the fact that he will not be speaking as part of the state Republican convention being held inside the civic center this Friday. I am frustrated, amazed, and perplexed that he has been denied his rightful place as a speaker at the convention. He garnered over sixteen percent of the votes in Minnesota Republican primaries earlier this year.

Actually, I am outraged, and I don't get angry very often. Republican candidate for president John McCain received only 22 percent of the votes in the state Republican primary election , a mere six percent more than Ron Paul's total. John McCain edged ahead of Ron Paul by less than four thousand votes. Officials in charge of the state GOP have denied Ron Paul the opportunity to speak, stating that Dr. Paul is not a "qualified candidate" yet failing to define what "qualified" means. Is John McCain qualified because he received four thousand more votes than Ron Paul?

Some John McCain supporters of the Republican party must be rightfully concerned that Ron Paul is a viable candidate in this election. Otherwise, why would they deny him a position to speak at the convention?

Are you one of the Americans who doesn't know much information about Ron Paul? Have you heard of him? Have you actually learned about his campaign or his position on key issues? Ron Paul's recent book Revolution: A Manifesto has been on the bestseller lists for the New York Times and Amazon.com for weeks.

He has set multiple fundraising records, including amassing over six million dollars on the 234th anniversary of the Boston Tea Party, the day that helped spark the American Revolution. More than 50,000 people contributed to his campaign that day, half of whom were new donors. The effort was organized entirely by volunteers online. "This means Ron Paul's message is really resonating with people," stated Jim Forsythe, a former Air Force pilot and former Bush supporter. If you don't know much about Dr. Paul, take a few minutes to visit his website and learn more about him. There is a reason why people are supporting him in large numbers across the country.

If you are disillusioned with our government, if you view this election as an unfortunate choice among undesirable candidates, if you are already saying, I can't wait until the upcoming presidential term is over, if you don't know very much about Ron Paul, if you are curious why some people are working so hard against Dr. Paul, please come to Mayo Park this Friday at 7:30 a.m. If you are unable to attend, invite a friend or relative to come in your place. Tell people you meet that Ron Paul has caught your attention.

Memorial Day Weekend

2008-05-28T02:31:00.015-05:00

On Friday, we played tennis at Goose Egg Park for the second time this spring. Max and Mitchell's forehands were amazing! We would love to play tennis every day this summer. When they needed a rest after almost an hour of hitting and chasing balls, I pounded out some serves.

On the way home, we stopped at the soccer park since Mitchell had been wanting to play there for days. Mitch looked like a little explorer in his Diego safari outfit.

On Saturday Jack came over to play. Their birthdays are less than three months apart and they get along perfectly. Jack and Mitch washed Max's rocks, played on the swingset, dug in the sandbox, and shared a snack.

On Sunday, Max went to his first baseball practice of the season. This is his third season playing baseball and his third season with coach Darin and his son Brady, who have become friends of our family. We love Coach Darin because he values fun over winning and he always has positive encouragement for the boys. The six boys who were able to attend practice during the holiday weekend had lots of time on the baseball diamond, batting and fielding the ball. They were excited to wear their bright blue t-shirts, and Max is busy trying to think of a catchy name for the"blue team." After practice, the grown-ups reminisced about how much the boys have learned during their short baseball careers, from the time they were kindergarteners and weren't always sure which way to run or what to do with the ball, to last year, when Max's favorite pastime was kicking sand in the infield, to now when they are soon-to-be third graders, learning specialized skills, yet still need to be reminded to keep their heads up and gloves ready when the batter steps up to the plate.

While Max practiced with his team, Mitchell and Troy explored the elementary school playground, playing Indiana Jones and hide and seek. Later, Mitch hit lots of home runs while we took turns pitching to him.

The boys asked for a trip to Dairy Queen on the way home from practice, but we reminded them that Dairy Queen treats are reserved for game nights during the season. Instead, they had snacks out on the deck after their baths. We enjoyed the colorful sunset and watched the stars and satellites decorate the sky, looking for constellations like the Big Dipper, the Seven Sisters, and Gemini.

Look at that string cheese smile!

My day started early on Monday morning when Muffy got into some mud. She needed a bath, and the temperatures weren't warm enough to put the garden hose on her filthy fur, so I carried out buckets of warm, soapy water. With a coat of almond-scented conditioner, her shiny coat smelled fresh and clean. I was the one who smelly like a wet puppy!

I spent the rest of the morning working in the garden. I finshed planting heirloom tomatoes: Mexico Midget, German Pink, red currant, and Beam's yellow pear varieties; as well as other organic heirloom vegetables, including leeks, red and green onions, kale, broccoli, eggplant, celery, and several kinds of sweet and hot peppers. I also planted some more annuals and I filled a pot with some of my favorite colorful flowers --aster, salvia, bright orange marigolds, pink begonias, and coleus -- for the cemetery.

Later that afternoon, Mitch and I had "special time" while Troy and Max stayed home to put the finishing touches on the stairs for the deck. Mitchie and I visited Kiersten and new baby Nadia at the hospital. Nadia Jeanine was born on Sunday, May 25 in the afternoon. She weighed 7 pounds, 10 ounces, and had a head of silky black hair. She was absolutely beautiful, just like her big brother and sister!

After we left the hospital, we brought the flowers to the cemetery to remember the three babies we have lost. Watching Mitchell run and play among the graves was comforting and reassuring, that life does indeed go on, and that God blesses us richly in unexpected ways. He loved watching the colorful pinwheels spin in the evening breeze. It was the first time the visiting the cemetery was actually enjoyable.

On the way home, we stopped to play at Mayo Park, across the river from the civic center, another favorite stop of Mitchell's. We admired the baby ducks along the edge of the river, played store, and tried out all of the slides. Our short playtime there was probably the best twenty minutes of the day. Sometimes we have to make time for those things we think we don't have time for.

Homeschool Field Trip: Fish Hatchery

2008-05-27T21:11:00.023-05:00

Today we traveled to Lanesboro, Minnesota. The boys enjoyed the scenic drive, as they searched the rolling hills and scenic landscape for cows, "horsies," as Mitchell still sweetly calls them, and Audis. Located in the southeastern part of the state, about an hour from our home, Lanesboro is situated in the beautiful Root River Valley, surrounded by blufflands and linked to the Root River Trail. Today, the hillsides were lush with vibrant green leaves and grasses, and the downtown streets, normally bustling with art lovers, bikers, and canoeing tourists, were quiet. We spent the morning at the the fish hatchery, one of five cold-water hatcheries managed by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources. The DNR stocks over 1300 state lakes with fish raised in its hatcheries.

We were the first family to arrive, and the boys were delighted to spot an oriole and one of my favorites, an indigo bunting, while we waited for our friends. Click here to visit a fascinating website filled with lots of great information about birds. You can listen to their calls; browse birds by color, body shape, and region; compare two or more birds side-by-side; and utilize other features to identify a bird you have seen.

We learned about the history of the fish hatchery, which had been the site of a grist mill in the early part of the 1900's. When trains began bringing commercially ground flour to the area, bakeries no longer needed the stone ground flour from the local mill, so the location was transformed into a fish hatchery. During its first year in the 1930's, a disaster cut off the water supply to the hatchery, killing all 300,000 trout. A natural spring supplies cold water to to the hatchery at the amazing rate of 5000 gallons per minute. The temperature of the water is a chilly, constant 48 degrees.

Following a complex spawning process, trout are raised at the hatchery for up to four years and shipped via truck to lakes and streams throughout the state, within a twelve-hour traveling distance. Fishing in Minnesoata is a whopping 1.9 billion dollar industry each year, and according to the video we watched during our tour, less than two percent of the DNR hatchery costs are subsidized through state revenue; almost all of the expenses are paid through trout stamps and other user fees.

After we watched the video explaining the trout spawning process in great detail, we looked inside one of the buildings. The concrete raceways were filled with cold water and thousands of rainbow fingerlings.

The kids couldn't wait one more minute to feed the trout in the special pond where feeding by visitors is permitted, so we headed over to the dock where the naturalist had left behind a half-filled five-gallon bucket of special fish food for our learning enjoyment. All of the kids threw handful after gleeful handful into the water, jumping with excitement as some of the ten-thousand trout jumped out of the water to catch a snack.

The kids and moms enjoyed the beauty of the rushing water from the spring that feeds the raceways, as the concrete canals are called, at the hatcher. The small, rapid waterfall pictured behind their smiling faces is the "leftover" water from the 5000 gallon-per-minute spring. Some of us reached into the water to sample the feeling of 48 degree water that nourishes the 1.5 million trout exported to Minnesota lakes and streams from the hatchery each year.

Jadyn spotted this picture-perfect spiderweb as we observed the size difference between one, two, and three year-old trout swimming in separate raceways. The smaller, younger trout are given more food because their metabolism is faster. Fifty three year-old trout and fifty four-year old trout are saved from each "batch" of fish each year to prevent inbreeding in the next year's group of fish.

On our way to the last stop on our tour of the hatchery, we saw the building where large bags of fish food are stored.

The largest building has several long raceways, filled with fresh, cold water. Here the trout are placed in special tanks filled with cold water, salt, and special no-foam solution for transport to Minnesota water bodies suitable for trout. They are not fed for three days to prevent clouding of the water in the truck during transport. When they arrive at their destination, the temperature of the water in the lake, stream, or reservoir is measured, and the water in the truck's tank is adjusted accordingly, to prevent the fish from going into shock when they are placed in their new home. The fish can survive safely in the truck for twelve hours.

Members of a Sentence-to-Service crew clean an empty trout pond and prepare it for next season's stock of fish.

Each of the four families from our Peace Kids Homeschool Group packed a picnic lunch, so we drove a couple of miles to Sylvan Park along Lanesboro's main street. We were disappointed in the cold temperatures and hurriedly ate our food so we could try to warm up. Mitchell and Max were both dressed in shorts since the online weather forecast had predicted a pleasant 74 degrees.

Our friend Isaac and mom Therese generously offered to share their fishing tackle they keep in the back of their vehicle, so I took some of the kids to the woodsy area along the back side of the pond, which is stocked with fish, to choose long sticks to fashion homemade fishing poles. Going fishing was the highlight of our afternoon, and we hadn't planned that part of our field trip! Eight year-old Nic got a boost from his mom Becky as they tried to reach a dead branch that would have been perfect for a sturdy fishing pole.

Four year-old Mags caught the first tiny, shimmery fish of the afternoon. Therese helped unhook the fish and she showed it to Mitchell and the other nearby kids, opening its mouth wide and pointing out its little tongue. Mitchell thought that part was pretty neat, but he didn't want to touch the fish.

Mags' mom Becky caught the next fish of the afternoon. Some of the kids wondered why we didn't keep it for a bite-sized dinner!

I snapped this photo of the ducks to honor my brothers and their incessant teasing of my love of taking pictures. Their favorite story to tell is about the time we -- my parents, five year-old Danny, Baby Brian, and ten year-old me -- walked around Lake Harriet in the Twin Cities and I snapped a whole roll of film of the ducks and their new babies with my Fisher Price 110 Camera. They don't like to talk about the part when Danny wanted to "turn around" and go back the long way to the car, after we had passed the stately bandshell and we were only a few hundred yards away from finishing our lap and returning to our Monte Carlo with the turbo-charged engine.
Mags shows off the flour-sack dress her mom sewed for her this past weekend, as well as the seaweed she didn't want to remove from her hook. I remembered my own days of fishing with my forever friend Angie and her family on our summer trips to Gull Lake in northern Minnesota, when both of us would ask her dad to remove the seaweed we had snagged. We also asked him to remove the fish from our hooks, until he taught us how to use his mighty pliers, and then we learned how to unhook the fish without even touching them! We also wore water shoes while kneeboarding and water skiing so we wouldn't have to step on the slimy plants, and once, Angie's parents rented wet suits for us because of the cold temperatures, and then we didn't have any kind of algae touching any part of our bodies!

Nic caught a fish, and as he proudly pulled it out of the water, the fish slipped off his hook and landed in the nearby grass. The kids laughed as Nic and Marco tried to catch it and toss it back into the pond.

The youngest fisher-kids were ready for some real playtime, so while the other moms stayed with Max and the other big kids, I took Mitchell, Mags, Miguel, and Sebastian across the grassy lawn to a playground that was designed just the right size for little bodies. When we arrived at the park earlier in the afternoon, Mitchell spotted a merry-go-round, and exclaimed, "Mom, look at that 'pinning thing!" since those old-fashioned, potentially dangerous types of equipment are now absent from most playgrounds. The merry-go-round was a hit with our two-to-four year-old crowd. I visited with an older gentleman dressed in striped denim overalls sitting nearby who was glad to hear the clamor of the kids playing together so happily.

After the kids had tried out everything at the playground at least twice, we headed back to the pond to check on big brothers and sisters. Baby Anna was sound asleep in her stroller, and a few big kids had caught some fish, including trout, sunfish, and one bass. Max didn't catch anything today (he decided that he didn't have that "beginner's luck" since he had gone fishing last summer) and I was glad he wasn't too disappointed. After we said our goodbyes to our friends around 2:30, Max, Mitchell, and I decided to take a short detour on the way home and explore downtown Lanesboro. We stopped at a shop stocked with treats for dogs and other pet-friendly products, where we purchased two gourmet cookies coated with frosting and sprinkles for Muffy and Minnie, and two bottles of geranium-scented Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day products, the best natural cleaning aids ever and worth every penny. (The products are very concentrated and a little goes a long way!) Next we headed to an ice cream shop where we bought a Peppermint Bon-Bon ice cream cone for Max, a Cotton Candy ice cream cone for Mitch, and an iced tea and double chocolate chip cookie for me.

We stopped at a gift shop on our way back to the car in search of the perfect souvenirs for the boys to remember our fun day, and we found just what they wanted: a magnetic beaded necklace for Max similar to the one a friend recently showed him, and a felt, animal-shaped jewelry box with a sparkly necklace inside for Mitch. After we were safely in the car, he told me the frog-shaped case was for his inch-high "little guys."

A few minutes after we arrived back home, tired but happy, the doorbell rang. Max and Mitch were so excited to see their neighborhood friends Syndey and Victoria, so my plans of bathtime and jammies were put on hold for some playtime on the swingset. Muffy entertained all four of them as she dug and dug, hot on the trail of the elusive, destructive pocket gopher that has moved into our backyard this year.

We are Made of Dreams and Bones

2008-05-25T17:27:00.007-05:00

I can't get the gardening song by Peter, Paul, and Mary out of my head!

Inch by inch

row by row

gonna make this garden grow

all it takes is a rake and a hoe

and a piece of fertile ground ...

We planted many seeds, flowers, vegetables and herbs last week. In our seed trays in the kitchen (which is also our science lab, school room, and art studio), we planted Love Lies Bleeding seeds, Kiss Me Over the Garden Gate seeds, Bluestem prairire grass seeds, and heirloom pansy plants. Max and Mitchell caught the gardening bug in their little garden glove hands as they picked out their own flowers and planted them in their special green pots. The colorful plants look so beautiful on the deck! This year Max did almost all of the work on his pot himself. The boys have been watering their pots of flowers daily, and Mitchell's favorite pot gets many drinks throughout the day.

Wrestling matches are impropmtu events at our house at least twenty times a day, even when we are planting flowers. The oversized bag of potting soil was too tempting for wiggly bodies to resist! If you have spent any time with us, you have probably heard me say, "Max and Mitchell, keep your hands on your own bodies!" or "No wrestling without Daddy!"

A Dog's Life

2008-05-23T17:14:00.003-05:00

Brittany forwarded me another great email today, this message about the lessons our dogs teach us, spoken with graceful eloquence by a six year-old boy. Remember to ENJOY LIFE this weekend!

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up and said, "I know why." Startled, we all turned to him.

What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?" The six-year-old continued, "Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Be loyal.

Never pretend to be something you're not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY!

Go Organic

2008-05-22T09:57:00.003-05:00

This spring I am rejuvenating my efforts feed my family and myself foods that are better for our bodies. I am planting an organic raised bed vegetable garden and pots of organically grown herbs. (I have found the best prices for organic potting soil and topsoil at Lowe's.) I do realize, whether it is printed on packages of food or on bags of dirt, that organic doesn't always mean organic. In June I will be making compost in our backyard. In our kitchen, you will always find these organic staples: yogurt, soymilk, soy sauce, peanut butter, carrots, celery, and Muir Glen tomato products. When my boys were babies, discovering whole foods for the first time, my shopping list included many more organic products. When we shop at Trader Joe's in the Twin Cities, we come home with bags full of delicious, affordable organic goods.

In the Minneapolis Star Tribune May 18 edition, I read an article entitled Organic or Conventional? When to Spend or Save. I started reading the list of most contaminated foods that you should buy from the organic produce section to Max and Mitchell, but then I decided not to tell them which foods contain the most pesticides and chemicals. (Fast forward to next week at Super Target: I know Max would say then and on every subsequent trip to the grocery store, "Mom, don't buy those peaches! They are full of chemicals! I'm not eating them!")

So I will share the list with you instead:

12 Most Contaminated Foods

Peaches (highest pesticide load)

Apples

Sweet bell peppers

Celery

Nectarines

Strawberries

Cherries

Lettuce

Grapes (imported)

Pears

Spinach

Potatoes

12 Least Contaminated Foods

Onions (lowest pesticide load)

Avocado

Sweet corn (frozen)

Pineapples

Mango

Sweet peas (frozen)

Asparagus

Kiwi

Bananas

Cabbage

Broccoli

Eggplant

You can read about the research and discover additional information about buying organically by clicking on the link to the article above. Trader Joe's was mentioned in a related article because prices for organic goods at their stores are thirty percent lower than at other grocery stores. You can also download your own printable PDF organic shopping guide at http://www.foodnews.org/.

My Kids Say the Funniest Things

2008-05-20T15:23:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago Max and Mitchell were wrestling and fighting after dinner. It was that tough time of day, the hour in between eating and crawling under the covers, when the clock says it is too early to go to bed, but their bodies say it is too late to stay up. Troy was with them in the living room, supervising their wild rumpus, and after trying several unsuccessful tactics to improve their behavior, he tried a new approach.

"What would Jesus do?" he asked them, in reference to the popular slogan often employed to encourage all of us to make better choices in our lives.

I was hoping for a heartfelt response from them such as "He would share his toys," or "Jesus would not fight with someone," or "Jesus would listen to his mom and dad." We had been reading Bible stories and doing devotions and I knew they knew the answer to that poignant question.

Without wasting even a second to craft his witty response, Mitchell took a quick break from his wrestling match and replied with a smug grin, "Jesus would perform one of His miracles to get us to stop fighting." And the fighting was replaced with uncontrollable laughter from all four of us.

Time to Talk a Little Politics

2008-05-19T21:18:00.004-05:00

Ron Paul, a Republican candidate for United States President, was mentioned favorably today in the mainstream media. It's about time! If you have unfairly dismissed him as an unlikely candidate or someone whose views are "out there," please click here to read a recent editorial in U.S. News and World Report that validates the soundness of Ron Paul's economic policy. If you are interested, intrigued, or curious by what you read there, visit http://www.ronpaul2008.org to learn more about Ron Paul. Don't let the media decide for you; please, decide for yourself.

Just For Laughs

2008-05-14T15:51:00.006-05:00

I needed a laugh this afternoon and I thought you might want one, too. My sweet sis-in-law Brittany sent me this. The pictures remind me of a cute story on our bookshelf called How Are You Peeling? by Saxton Freymann.

Homeschool Field Trip: Clarissa Explains It All

2008-05-09T22:34:00.043-05:00

Friday was a lovely day. We enjoyed two worth-every-minute field trips. In the morning, we went to the library to attend a performance by the SEMYO (Southeastern Minnesota Youth Orchestra). The young musicians were very talented and poised. They practice daily at home and weekly as a group. Many of the students have been playing their instruments for years, but playing music with a group was a new experience for some of the musicians.

The first three pieces were peformed by the Wind Symphony group and included Rhythm Machine and a medley of songs from Phantom of the Opera. Next, we heard music from the string section of the orchestra, including a beautiful rendition of Canon in D. With humor and expression, the conductor explained how the violinists play "wooden boxes" with bows made of "horsetail hair" -- "Don't worry, it grows back," he assured us amidst a chorus of laughter-- that are coated with "dried maple syrup" to make them stick to the strings. I loved listening to the sweet music of the viola, violin, and the cello.

Music-loving Mitchell covered his ears for most of the hour because he prefers his music volume a little lower -- he would try to cover his ears just days after we brought him home from the hospital when his environment was too loud for his liking --but he giggled with glee when I helped him direct the orchestra as he sat on my lap.

Finally, both sections of the orchestra performed together before the students went back to school. We were looking forward to the "instrumental petting zoo" portion of the assembly, but there were no instruments available to try after the performance. We were joined by several families from our Peace Kids homeschool group, including Max's new friend Lauryn. Both Max and Mitchell want to learn to play the trombone.

We grabbed Subway sandwiches (I savored every bite of my veggie, cheese, and chipotle sauce sandwich on honey wheat bread) and headed west to Oxbow Park near Byron for our afternoon field trip. Admission to the park and zoo is free, although donations are welcomed. Max, Mitchell, and I arrived at the park about thirty minutes before the start of our scheduled classes, so we watched the colorful birds at the bird feeder, including this red-bellied woodpecker, as well as blue jays, sparrows, and the pocket gophers who were feasting on seeds that had spilled from the feeders (we learned today they have another nickname: thirteen-stripe gophers), and the boys' all-time favorite exhibit, the river otters.

The boys were curious onlookers while a naturalist cleaned the otters' 1500-gallon swimming tank and their pond. The otters tried repeatedly to slink into the water, and the naturalist had to shoo them away as he worked.

A glimpse of the main zoo area, with exhibits including a black bear, coyote, fox, cougar, and wolf. There is an area where visitors can view birds, owls, badgers, prairie dogs, goats, turkeys, bison, deer, and elk.

Our outing was organized by a member of our Christ Community Church Homeschool Co-op Field Trip Club. At the beginning of the school year, a handful of moms met over coffee to discuss a list of nearly a hundred potential destinations for field trips. Each member family in the club is asked to organize at least one field trip during the school year; some families have organized several fun and educational get-togethers. Despite some scattered clouds, the temperatures were perfect for a day of outdoor, hands-on learning. The cost of one dollar per child was perhaps the best field trip money we have ever spent.

We began our two-hour block of time with thirty minutes of free time to explore the zoo grounds. The river otters were a hit with many kids in addition to Max and Mitch.

The structured part of our field trip begain with a thirty-minute class called "Touch and Learn About Animals." Clarissa was our naturalist for the afternoon. She was phenomenal! Her instruction was laced with enthusiasm, information, and patience. She modeled respect and a love of learning, character traits that are at the top of our homeschooling priority list. I was impressed with how she captured the attention of all the children in our mixed-ages group. I know from experience that such a feat is challenging to accomplish in a traditional classroom in which most of the children are the same age. The big kids were good listeners and excellent role models for the youngest two, three, and four year-olds who were learning by their side.

Most of the children were so excited when Clarissa brought out a fox snake for them so see and touch. A few of the kids scooted back on the carpet or cuddled closer to their sibling. The snake showed a definite fondness for Eli as it slithered over to him time after time. Eli didn't mind one bit, but Clarissa decided at one point that it would be a safe idea to move the snake back to the center of the carpet. Mitchell was one of the students who didn't want to be near the snake; Little Max couldn't wait to get closer. The children discussed with Clarissa that snakes are reptiles: colded-blooded creatures with scaly skin. She told them how the non-venomous fox snake likes to disguise itself as a rattler by pretending to rattle its tale when approached by a potential predator. She also tried to point out how to tell the difference between a fox snake and a rattlesnake, warning them not to get to close in nature to an unfamiliar snake. I didn't pay close enough attention because I don't plan to get close enough to either kind of snake in the wild!

Mitchell quickly tucked his hands into a little hiding spot under Max's bottom when Clarissa walked around the carpet square with the snake and offered each child the chance to touch its scaly skin. He stayed close to Max until Clarissa returned the snake to its enclosure in an adjacent room. Max touched the snake with only a bit of hesitation.

Next, Clarissa attached a tether to her belt loop and took a saw-whet owl out of a small wooden cage. The children laughed when she explained that its name comes from its call, which sounds like a wet saw. This feathered friend was injured and unable to survive in the wild, as are all the creatures at Zollman Zoo. The owl had suffered brain damage after crashing into a window, becoming disoriented, and being attacked by crows.

The adults and children alike were fascinated to learn about the owl's large, powerful eyes, which could see well enough to read every word on a newspaper from one goalpost to another, across the length of a football field, lit only by a single candle at the fifty-yard line. If human eyes were as proportionately large as those of an owl, our faces would be graced with eyes the size of grapefruits. Most owls hunt at night because the light of day is too bright for their very sensitive eyes. We could have read a book at home about owls, but the infomation is much more powerful when you are sitting ten feet away from a living, breathing creature, hearing the words from a naturalist who is exciting about wildlife. The owls, snakes, and other creatures at Zollman Zoo eat the control mice donated from Mayo research.

Finally, we were introduced to a tiger salamander, an amphibian that is native to Minnesota. Clarissa only left him out of the water for a few minutes, explaining to the children that his skin needs to remain most in order to breathe. One child related the story of finding a dead, dried up salamander outside in the hot summer sun. That hands-on experience of watching a salamander crawl briefly around the carpet before needing to return to its water-filled home will help children remember that salamanders and other amphibious creatures need water to survive in a way that a textbook couldn't teach.

Max was eager to touch the salamander, and this time Mitchell hid behind Max, but this time he did not feel threatened or hide his hands under his big brother.

After the animals were safely back in their zoo homes, we headed outside to enjoy the beauty of the park with a scavenger hunt. Approximately fifty items were organized on the list according to our sense: sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste. The students readily spotted pieces of nature on our hike through the trees, including a spiderweb, a squirrel, a tunnel, moss, a whirly copter. They made their own selections to fit the description of "something beautiful" and "something perfectly straight." They were also encouraged to taste the air, smell crushed pine needles, and hear birds calling and running water.

The children examine a broken piece of park, and Clarissa notes the lines made in the bark that are actually tracks created by insects.

As we approached the river, Max was excited to discover some moss on a huge boulder. Clarissa took advantage of a perfect teachable moment, and the kids examined the moss while she taught them about lichen: two plants, algae and moss, working together as one. The algae and moss work together to produce chlorophyll, their green homemade food.

On our way back to the nature center, the kids raced Clarissa to the tree and back to burn off some energy. We learned about native Minnesota wildflowers, including the yellow swamp buttercups, the white rue anenomes, the speckled trout lillies which also have small hanging white flowers that can be difficult to notice, may apples, a tall weed-like plant called mullen, and everyone's favorite, the bluebells which were plentiful along the river. Clarissa also identified a member of the mint family called bedstraw, used in old-fashioned times to pleasantly scent the featherbeds. We learned that all members of the mint family have square-shaped stems.

Left, Fiona and Eli examine a bluebell stem that Clarissa picked for us from a large patch along the hiking path. Below, a perfect, golden buttercup.

Above, a rue anenome, one of the early-blooming wildflowers
Below, a bluebell with some artistic touches added

We observed the meandering river, shallow enough to be able to see the sandy bottom. Last summer, the river rose far above the banks, to the level in the above right picture, and a tree branch that was above my head had pieces of plants hanging from it that had washed away during the destructive flooding in southeastern Minnesota last August.

As we finished our scavenger hunt, we saw a harmless kind of fungus that grows on trees and a tree around which a twisted vine had grown, distorting the trunk.

Max asked Clarissa about this dried plant specimen. It is called mullen. We didn't learn the name of the weed pictured below, but I've also found it in our backyard.

We found a thistle patch that Eeyore would make Eeyore smile!

Following the structured part of our field trip, we explored the animal exhibits with our friends Fiona, Little Max, and mom Valerie. The four kids enjoyed feeding the goats, the only animals at the zoo that visitors are allowed to touch and feed. Big Max, Fiona, Little Max, and Mitchell offered the farm animals fresh green grass and dried, long stalks of grass, but the two goats loved the bright yellow dandelion tops enough to fight over the pieces. I had thought that Mitchell was too worn out to stay at the park any longer, but he made trip after trip after trip with the other kids to a nearby hillside that was dotted with yellow flowers.

Several times, the male goat stood on his hind legs, peering over the fence to see if the kids were bringing him more treats.

We learned the origin of the expression "getting your feathers all ruffled" when the kids teased the turkeys in the hopes of hearing them gobble. The parenting technique of distraction still works sometimes, even for eight year-olds, and we walked with the kids across the county road to explore the old cabin, watch the bison, elk, and deer, and play a spirited game of freeze tag.

Enjoy our last glimpses of Oxbow Park for the day!

Homeschool Field Trip: Ellison Sheep Farm

2008-05-05T10:37:00.012-05:00

Early this spring on a rainy day, we traveled to nearby Ellison Sheep Farm with some of our homeschool friends, for a tour and an enjoyable spinning lesson with proprietor Nancy Ellison, a woman of many talents. Her farm boasts rare breeds of sheep and chickens, and she gave the children corn to feed the chickens. We saw baby sheep that had just been born, and she told stories about many of her animals. Her granchildren must have the best of times when they come to visit her! We saw sheep, goats, chickens, ducks, and farm cats on her acreage. Inside her studio, a beautiful, old, restored barn with uneven stone walls and a stained-glass window, we learned how to spin wool using several methods, how to make a wagon-wheel rug by hand, and how to dye wool naturally. She gave everyone an opportunity to try several spinning wheels and showed us some of the beautiful rugs, garments, and crafts she had made using wool and other spun fibers.

Homeschool Field Trip: Fossil Hunting

2008-05-04T22:15:00.011-05:00

On April 16, we joined our Peace Kids homeschool friends for a field trip to Whitewater State Park near St. Charles, Minnesota. Despite living in Rochester for the past eleven years, I had never been to the state park, which is renowned around our area for its beauty and camping. The drive was about 45 minutes from our home, most of it via I-90. When we arrived, we purchased an annual state park permit for $25 and then attended the class led by naturalist Dave Palmquist to learn about fossils common to southeastern Minnesota. He used a variety of teaching tools, including a timeline, an overhead projector, fossils encased in plastic, and a handout of the nine most common fossils to our area that the kids were able to take home for future reference. Mr. Palmquist told the students that they could each take home some fossils and encouraged them to practice convseravation, because "no one really needs fifteen of the same kind of fossil." I was suprised that Max, my little collector whose cells are full of collector genes, didn't disagree with him.

After the presentation, we drove to the fossil site outside of the state park, about ten minutes away from the state park along a fairly quite country road. All of the children found a variety of fossils. Naturalist Sara Grover helped us identify our fossils.

Above, Whitewater State Park. Below, Fiona was excited to add more fossils to her collection.

Above, Mitchell preferred looking for rocks with interesting shapes, rather than plain old fossils. Below, Little Max hunts for fossils with his mom Valerie, who was a very modest and very knowledgable fossil expert.

Above, Valerie points out an interesting feature of a fossil to Little Max.
Above, Max found a big and beautiful fossil to haul home. Up close, you could see the "footprint" of a snake from hundreds of years ago.

Above, Big Max shows off another one of his best fossil finds. Below, Little Max takes a rest ... just for a sec. Both boys had more work to do!
At the end of our exploration, Sara gathered the children in a circle to talk about their finds. Each child passed around their favorite fossil for others to examine as they told about what kind of fossil they thought it was.

We drove to another nearby picnic spot, Carley State Park, for lunch and the chance to play and explore the shallow area of the river.

Below, Mitchell's hands were purple and black after playing with some leftover charcoal in a campfire ring. He was too busy to eat much lunch.

Above, Fiona holds a sure sign on spring on her fingertip: a small, brown moth. Below, Max holds up a piece of driftwood.

Above, We found the perfect place for the kids to wade in the river. Some of them wore their rain boots and others slipped off their shoes and socks. All of them got their pants wet! Below, Erica dries off her wet toes. We have known Erica's parents since 1998 and we were excited to discover they were members of the Peace Kids homeschool group.

Mitchell, Little Max, Big Max, and Fiona found their own little spot along the banks of the river.

The last pictures of the day point to a picture-perfect afternoon, but we left the park with Mitchell sobbing, kicking, and screaming. He cut his finger on a sharp branch, and he was embarrassed about his owie, so he ran away from the group. I chased after him, thankful for my spring training runs the past few weeks, while Max chased after me and gathered the remnants of our picnic lunch. As I undressed Mitchell from his wet pants and socks, he sang his Bully Song, which is just a dressed-up name for "Bully Bully Bully" over and over again, as he does whenever he is too embarrassed for any other words. Thankfully, our drive home was happy and bully-free.

Signs of Spring

2008-05-03T22:14:00.014-05:00

The weather is a favorite subject for conversation, small talk, and complaints in Minnesota. I do not like to complain about the weather, ever, but I do miss the feeling of warm sunshine on my face. The temperatures tell me spring has not yet reached us, but finally the trees and plants are showing me that warmer days are not far away. Early this morning, when I let Muffy outside for her 4 a.m. potty break, heavy snowflakes were racing the raindrops to the ground. Today the boys wore mittens when they rode their bikes. In the past week, snowflakes have taken us by surprise three times. We have still enjoyed the reticent spirit of spring, even if we didn't experience the joy of warm spring weather. Among our favorite times spent outdoors this spring were field trips to state parks, a visit to a sheep farm, trips to the park, kite-flying afternoons, and half-hour, leisurely conversations with the neigbhors.

Below, Max and Mitchell flew our colorful, sturdy, light-up-at-night kite one breezy Saturday afternoon, after my parents came for a fun visit on April 13. Mom, Dad, Max, Mitchell, and I went car seat shopping at Babies 'R Us since Mitchell has almost reached the forty-pound threshold on his convertible car seat. Before they returned to New Ulm, we had ice cream at Culver's restaurant.

The twists and swoops of the kite made Minnie nervous, but she still managed to relax nearby in the brown grass with Muffy.
The next day, Monday, April 14, we took a break from school in the afternoon to enjoy the sunshine, the basketball hoop, and the deck. We are looking forward to eating lunches and reading stacks of books on the deck in the coming weeks.

Later that day, Troy arrived home early enough to grill two pork tenderloins, Ambassador wieners, and chicken breasts. Despite a long winter, perhaps 150 days without using the grill, he hadn't lost his technique. I was happy to have three days' worth of dinner in the fridge! Max and Mitchell kept Troy company for a little while, then managed to find mischief in the backyard: Mitchell harrassed Minnie and Max tried to sneak various items into the hot coals as part of a never-ending science experiment.

Spring has brought the return of more wildlife to our backyard and our deck. We enjoy watching and feeding the birds, rabbits, and squirrels. One afternoon we caught a glimpse of a wild turkey and we have seen deer footprints in the muddy soil. The bunnies like to hang out in the dirt where we set up our swimming pool in the summer time. The squirrels climb onto the deck and eat critter food, peanut butter bread, and dried food right outside the sliding door. There are three squirrels who visit almost daily to eat the treats we leave for them on the deck, and they are readily identifiable by their size, color, and injuries. Mitchell has nicknamed two of them Donut and Cookie; Max calls one of them Big Red. The birds enjoy the trees, bird houses, and bird feeders scattered throughout the yard. Max and I keep our cameras handy just to capture that perfect snapshot. Here are some of our favorite animal pictures taken during the month of April ...

On Sunday, April 20, the four of us constructed a raised bed for a garden this summer. We used leftover lumber from our deck and leftover dirt from our sidewalk construction. I have a long wish list of vegetables and herbs I would like to plant, so I will either need to be more selective or build more raised beds, with the assistance of my good helpers. Max was a big help with the drill and hammer.

Mitchell was a big help as a babysitter for Minnie, even though she probably didn't want Mitchell to take on that role. She may not be the most obidient, intelligent dog, but she makes up for that by being unbelievably tolerant and loving. She gives real meaning to the terms "loyalty" and "unconditional love."

"Minnie, I caught you!"

Mitchell inspired us with his chalk creations. Look at his sweet little hands!
The yellow flowers on this mystery bush are getting ready to bloom; in fact, they opened bright and wide the following day. On Monday, April 21, I got up early to get ready for a visit from Elleana and Maverick. I was so tired but so grateful to witness this beautiful sunrise at 5 a.m.

Those cheerful yellow flowers ...
... and now the peonies have sprouted out of the ground. I can't wait for their heavy pink flowers! The first flower I ever received from a boy was a big, beautiful peony.

We were so excited to play outside with our friends William, Wes, and their mom Heidi. This summer our playdates with them will be across town at their new house instead of across the street. Last summer, the four boys played together almost every day, running races and playing in the sandbox. We two moms talking about parenting, taught endless lessons in sharing, and sipped strong iced teas on those unforgettable afternoons. Below, Max, William, Wes, and Mitchell hide treasures in the sandbox in Wes' and William's new backyard.

Three-and-a-half year-old William swings way up high in the hopes of touching the sky!

Later that night, we were treated to early evening chats with two of our neighbor families. We have the best neighbors in the world, including Dan and Heidi, who are no longer official neighbors; Jennifer and Jeff, who live nearby in the cul-de-sac and are parents to four wonderful kids, including Sam, The Best Babysitter Ever; and Dan and Lynn, who live up the street. Jackie, Dave and Mary, and Mike and Wanda and their families live within eyesight of our house and we are blessed to have them as next-door neighbors, whether I need to "borrow" a cup of sugar or a helping hand. I don't know what I would do without the gift of friendship I have received from all of these wonderful families.

Below, neighbor Grace and her friend were making an ice cream commercial for their Spanish class, and Max and Mitchell were happy to be the stars along with Victoria, who is almost a kindergarten graduate. Max and Mitchell got to eat the "helado" after filming was completed; Victoria had to go inside and get ready for bed. Grace said Victoria could have her ice cream the next day. On the short walk home, we stopped to visit with neighbor Mary and give some lovin' to sweet, stubborn Carly, who simply lays down on the grass during her walk if she gets tired or doesn't want to go home.
Later that week, we were getting ready to leave for our almost-weekly visit to the pool to swim with other homeschool friends. Rain was falling hard, and Max saw the largest worm he had ever seen in his life. He wanted to capture it, but he didn't want to catch it. He was hoping the worm would simply crawl into the bucket.

Waiting For Godot

2008-04-28T10:11:00.004-05:00

I recently resumed reading a favorite book by the gifted Anna Quindlen. Loud and Clear is a collection of her writings, first published in Newsweek and The New York Times. The book is filled with reflective essays about life and society.

Among my favorites is a selection entitled Oh, Godot. In that essay, Quindlen references the play in which her eldest son appeared, Waiting for Godot. Playwright Samuel Beckett tells the tale of two lost souls who wait through the entire play for someone or something that never appears. She compares the tale to the way that many of us spend our lives waiting for that magical something to transform our own story into something extraordinary. Quindlen wrote her words as a commencement speech, in hopes of inspiring young graduates to go out into the world, remember who they really are, and listen to their hearts. Here is my favorite part of her speech:

Godot has arrived. The linchpin, the bedrock, the source of all the questions that have plagued your soul, and all the answers, too. The way is clear. The way is here. You saw Godot when you blew your hair dry this morning, when you brushed your teeth and put on mascara. I have seen your salvation, and it is you, staring back at yourself, your eyes windows to your heart and mind. Many of you have looked for Godot, or some facsimile, elsewhere in this particular place. You have looked for it in the grade on the last page of that art history paper, in the grad school acceptance letters, in the laughter of your friends, in the smile of some nice man or woman. What passed for your life was often a search for outside validation. Law school or a museum internship would save you, or love or romance or sex, or a poem published in a magazine, a painting hung at a show. But one edition of a magazine has a way of giving way to another, and course grades come and go, and occasionally, very occasionally, a lover who should know better will nevertheless dump you. The prizes arrive, but soon they are dusty, and then what do you have? You better have you. The real you, the authentic, examined self ... ... Today is the day that those lucky enough to be your teachers, your classmates, your friends, and your parents must say: Your life belongs in full to you and you alone. Do not cede it to anyone else, no matter how loving and well-intentioned. People will tell you what you ought to study and how you ought to feel. They will tell you what to read and how to live. They will urge you to take jobs they themselves loathe and to follow safe paths they themselves find tedious. ... You already know this. I just need to remind you. Think back. Think back to first grade, when you could still hear the sound of your own voice in your head, when you were too young, too unformed, too fantastic to understand that you were supposed to take on the protective coloration of the expectations of those around you.

What do these words mean for me? For you? From her essay, two main points resonated within me. First of all, do not let others create your definition of happiness. We all must search for our own special meaning in our lives. Next, I noted that we should not wait for years to be happy. We should not count on the realization of a dream, or the accomplishment of a goal, to deliver our happiness to us.

We must be happy while we wait to achieve those hopes and dreams that are truly our own. Do you know who you are? Do you know what you believe in? Do you have a close friend, a special someone, a best buddy, with whom you share that one-of-a-kind-in-six-billion-beings that is very special You? Isn't that a gift in itself, to have your hopes and dreams and values, and know what they are? To do something kind for someone and share a part of yourself with someone else? To learn something new about this huge, amazing world each day? Can you grasp the smallest fiber of hope when you find yourself in an abyss of great despair, with the prayer that tomorrow might be a better day? Can you recall one simple yet shining moment as you are drying your tears and adding one more crumpled tissue to the pile of thirty you have already used? Do you beileve in your heart that there is always, always something for which to be thankful?

On my best days, those questions are among my guiding principles, my quantitative methods of measuring a life that is usually defined by subjective terms like "pretty good," and "fine" and "okay" when someone asks, How are you doing? Some days, those flowery-sounding phrases that Anna Quindlen wants us to think about are not enough. As darkness falls upon my world at the end of a long day, when every room of my house is in a state of disarray, and my overtired, cranky boys won't go to sleep, and my to-do list includes a handful of unpaid bills, a stack of dirty dishes, and a pile of unwashed laundry ... well, forget about contemplating dreams or thinking ahead a day past tomorrow, because I have to get through the rest of today.

Sometimes just knowing myself is not enough. I want the bigger house. I want the bigger paycheck. I want the long vacation next to the ocean. I want my own agent and editor and endless hours for creative endeavors and weekly trips to the spa to inspire me. I need to remind myself it is okay to feel that way, that it's perfectly normal to want a little more than just enough, and I believe that kind of wishful thinking is necessary to achieve my lofty but attainable goals. Those thoughts remind me that I do have hopes and dreams and in the meantime, for one day, one month, or even one long year, I might be wishing for my own Godot to make my life better.

But then, in sudden realizations spread throughout the waiting, I have moments of truth that would pass by my heart if I weren't ready to accept them. I see my reflection from years ago in my son's pleading brown eyes when he asks for just one more bedtime story. I play the old, saved message on my answering machine from an acquaintance who said, you made my day. I open the freezer and I see meals I have lovingly prepared for my dear, sweet Nana, and I open the pantry and I see its shelves full of staples and spices and a piece of rich, dark chocolate for emergencies. I scan the obituaries and count my loved ones in my prayers, smiling as I say their names, and I thank God that I believe in the promise of Heaven. I see the gratitude and easy joy in my toddler's smile as I snuggle him to sleep. I glimpse beauty in a sunset, in an unwanted but secretly beloved field of dandelions, in my son's piles of pebbles scattered randomly all over the front step, in a famous painting that thousands before me have admired with critical eyes, in the sands of a beach that will never again be the same as they are at the end of that wave.

Those times in which I experience the purest forms of beauty remind me that I don't need to wait very long for something else to make me happy. Those simple gifts disguised as ordinary moments assure me that even though I have hopes and dreams are not yet fulfilled, I am not waiting for Godot. I am enough. Whatever I need is in me, somewhere. Sometimes I forget, sometimes I worry. Sometimes I remember that I am enough when feel myself smiling a real smile, sometimes an old friend reminds me, sometimes God resassures me. Sometimes a star whispers it to me when I can't sleep and I stare into the night toward the heavens; sometimes I see a forgotten color in the sky as the sun falls into the grass; sometimes a loved one talks to me in a favorite memory. Then I remember again: I am enough.

Field Trip: The Movie Theater

2008-03-31T00:07:00.007-05:00

Last week, we attended the eagerly anticipated tour of Chateau Theatres, one of three cinemas in Rochester. I arranged a tour with the manager of the theater for the kids, moms, and one lucky grandpa to go behind the scenes and learn how those movies appear on the big screen. Tickets were $6 a person, and we received a special group rate for snacks: $2.14 for a small popcorn and small soda. After the tour, we attended a showing of Dr. Suess' Horton Hears a Who. The moms laughed so hard at the part early in the movie when the crabby kangaroo mother said that her child is "pouch-schooled."

Caryn shows us how she loads the film onto the reel. She has been working at movie theaters for ten years, and she is the expert at Chateau Theatres. Most movies are loaded in three sections, including the previews at the beginning of the show. Studios recommend their own movies for showing as previews, but the choice of which previews to show on which screens is ultimately the decision of the theater manager and her team.

The shelves are full of previews and movie trailers. When the movies are done showing at the theater, they discard boxes full of previews. The kids were able to choose discarded previews to take home for craft projects and other fun. They were so excited! Max was able to snag a copy of the preview for Horton Hears a Who. Each child also received a bookmark-sized strip from the movie Happy Feet.

Stacy Allison, the manager at both Cinemagic-owned theaters in Rochester, shows us the 3000-watt light bulb that lights up each big screen. The light bulb is encased in a special housing within the projector, and whenever that little door is opened, the light bulb automatically shuts off because it is so bright and dangerous. It is filled with xenon gas, like today's fancy headlights on automobiles.

Above are the two formats for movies: widescreen and fullscreen.

Below, Caryn loads the reel into the projector.

The movies are shipped in these special containers.

The area where the movies are projected onto the big screens. Each projector may cost around $100,000. Many theaters will have to spend one million dollars or more to upgrade to digital equipment in the coming years.

Time for the movie! Maxwell and Mitchell gave it a two-thumbs-up rating.

Homeschool Field Trip: Creatures of the Deep

2008-03-31T00:01:00.012-05:00

On March 18, we visited a special, month-long exhibit at Quarry Hill with members of our homeschool field trip club. Quarry Hill is a nature center and the exhibit was called Creatures of the Deep. The classroom at the nature center was filled with several life-size replicas of prehistoric sea creatures.

This hand was huge!

Max and Mitchell stand under the head of the forty foot-long creature of the deep!
This map depicts where a huge river likely flowed thousands of year ago.

Max takes a closer look.

Mitchell stands next to true-to-life displays of several kinds of turtles.
Our friend Little Max poses inside the head of the Mososaur.

Max and Mitchell dig for fossils.

Mitchell and Max create crayon rubbings of dinosaurs and prehistoric sea creatures. Mitchell, of course, used yellow, and Max used his socially acceptable favorite color of red. Who decided that pink is for girls, anyway?

Max inspects a fossil replica.

Mitchell and Little Max enjoy a little "down time" after all that learning as they run circles around a cone.

After we toured the exhibit and absorbed as much information as we could, some of our friends joined us on a hike through the trails. We walked around the pond, up a steep hill, past the remnants of the limestone quarry, and came to the end of the trail at the edge of a tall cliff overlooking the city of Rochester. Below, Big Max and Little Max try to play in the water before their moms shoo them away.

The homeschoolers eagerly head for the hills!

At the top of the steep, snow-covered hill, we could see the ruins of the old limestone quarries.

Mom Becky helps Mitchell's friend Mags up the last few steps of the slippery hill.
Max stands at the top of the hill, with the quarry walls in the background.

Max finds a rock for his collection, but he wants me to put it in my pocket. I told him he has to be in charge of carrying it back down the trail.

We reached the other side of the park. A huge stand of tall pine trees surrounds the open spaces of the park. At the base of the hillside are many unmarked graves from the state mental hospital from years ago, and some grave sites that have recently been marked with the correct names and dates to honor the deceased who are buried there.
Max and Mags play a game of tag with Nic and Fiona.
Mitchell, walking at a slower pace than the rest of us, discovered a treasure hidden inside the hollow of a tall tree. We left the nut inside the tree for whichever hard-working creature put it there.

By the end of our hike, Mitchell's and Max's feet were sore from all of that walking in their rain boots, which were not very warm or cushion-y!

Marshmallow Peeps

2008-03-21T11:45:00.003-05:00

Mitchell will be sad if he doesn't get any yellow Marshmallow Peeps in his Easter basket this year. My grandma likes to leave the opened package on her countertop for a few days and eat her Peeps when their soft coating becomes hard and just a little crunchy. We watched Unwrapped, a television show about how many foods are produced, and the people from the Just Born company that makes Marshmallow Peeps confirmed that they do have an infinite shelf life. I can't believe how many websites are devoted to these sugary, corn-syrupy candies! Here is a link to over a hundred Peep websites:

http://www.geekbabe.com/peeps/

On My Bookshelf: Jon Hassler

2008-03-21T11:24:00.002-05:00

I have always loved reading, and one of my favorite authors since late elementary school was Minnesota-born Jon Hassler. I read Four Miles to Pinecone from start to finish, in one sitting, when I was ten or twelve years old, and then again in a popular literature class in high school. I enjoyed his books, but what I found most inspiring was his story. He grew up in small-town Minnesota, was a teacher and a father, and didn't begin his writing career until he was 37 years old. Despite the complications of a neurological disease, he continued working on his most recent book until he died yesterday at the age of 74. According to Wikipedia, he finished this novel just days before his death, although I have been unable to confirm this information.

Here is more of Jon Hassler's story:

http://origin.twincities.com/entertainment/ci_8645060

Happy Easter, In Pictures!

2008-03-20T01:33:00.007-05:00

An Easter Message ... for Every Day

2008-03-19T10:48:00.005-05:00

In my inbox today was a forward that turned out to be just the hug I needed. I was thinking about the busy days ahead of me -- wrestling practice, swimming, Maundy Thursday church, Good Friday church, school, laundry, cooking, bills -- and the long days behind me, and the people that have been on my mind lately, Nancy and little Baby Geneva. I was thinking, there is not enough time in each day, and not enough strength in my heart.

Then I read the following message, and I still felt sad and grateful, but for different reasons.

May your heart find some peace today.

TEENAGER'S VIEW OF HEAVEN

Seventeen year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. 'I wowed 'em,' helater told his father, Bruce. 'It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.' It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. 'I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,' Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. 'I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in Heaven. I know I'll see him.'

Brian's Essay ...

The Room

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read 'Girls I have liked.' I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named 'Friends' was next to one marked 'Friends I have betrayed.' The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird 'Books I Have Read,' 'Lies I Have Told,' 'Comfort I Have Given,' 'JokesI Have Laughed At .' Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: 'Things I've Yelled At My Brothers.' Others I couldn't laugh at: 'ThingsI Have Done in My Anger', 'Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.' I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked 'TV Shows I Have Watched', I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked 'Lustful Thoughts,' I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!' In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore 'People I Have Shared the Gospel With.' The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. 'No!' I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was 'No, no,' as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back.

He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, 'It is finished.' I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

'For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.' -John3:16.

'I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. '-Phil.4:13.

If you feel the same way, forward it so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.

My 'People I shared the gospel with' file just got bigger, how about yours?

Mind Benders: The Answers!

2008-03-18T10:31:00.002-05:00

The solution to the Mind Bender problem, Name the Animals, posted last week, can be found at the end of today's blog posting.

Here are the original clues to the puzzle:

A cat, a small dog, a goat, and a horse are named Angel, Beauty, King, and Rover. Read the clues to find each animal's name.

1. King is smaller than both the dog and Rover.
2. The horse is younger than Angel.
3. Beauty is the oldest and is a good friend of the dog.

Need some help? Here is an explanation, followed by the answers:

King is smaller than the small dog (1), so King isn't the goat or the horse (or the dog).
Then King is the cat.
The dog is not Rover (1) or Beauty (3), so it is Angel.
The horse is not the oldest (2), but Beauty is the oldest (3), so Beauty is not the horse.
Then the horse is Rover, and Beauty is the goat.

cat: King
dog: Angel
goat: Beauty
horse: Rover

Top O' the Afternoon To Ya

2008-03-17T15:29:00.005-05:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I won't be having any green beer or Guinness today -- I tried some golden Chardonnay this past weekend and it didn't go well -- because I'm giving my body a little more time to recover from the flu. I won't be in Chicago this year watching the river turn greener than normal. I won't be wearing my green beads and sparkly tiara at Whistle Binkies listening to the talented Ben Olsen, either. But I am cooking corned beef brisket to enjoy at home in my cute green sweater. And I will listen to Flogging Molly after the boys are in bed. Remember, Everyone's Irish on St. Patrick's Day, even those of us who are almost fully German and a little Wendish.

For all of you trivia buffs, St. Patrick's Day will not fall during Holy Week again until the year 2160.

Do you know the story of St. Patrick? St. Patrick used the three leafs of the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity to Irish people. Click on this link to learn more:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Patrick's_Day

Enjoy two of my favorite Irish Blessings:

An Old Irish Blessing

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Irish Marriage Blessing

May God be with you and bless you.
May you see your children's children.
May you be poor in misfortunesand rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

My Mind Isn't Bending and I Mind

2008-03-10T11:36:00.001-05:00

Recently we added Mind Benders to our curriculum. The series is published by The Critical Thinking Company. You can request a catalog or shop directly from their website, www.criticalthinking.com. Each exercise in the workbook is a short, fairly easy-to-solve logic puzzle to help develop deductive reasoning. I'm trying to find an excuse to explain why I had to look at the answer key at the back of the book to solve yesterday's puzzle, especially since the problems are designed with third through sixth graders in mind. I'll blame the flu. Can you can solve the puzzle?

Name the Animals

A cat, a small dog, a goat, and a horse are named Angel, Beauty, King, and Rover. Read the clues below to find each animal's name.

1. King is smaller than both the dog and Rover.

2. The horse is younger than Angel.

3. Beauty is the oldest and is a good friend of the dog.

Check back tomorrow for the answers!

The Unwelcome Guest at Our House

2008-03-09T12:57:00.003-05:00

Now I understand why many people get a flu shot. I have never been so sick in my whole life.

When I was six turning seven, I had a bout with tonsilitis, and when I got back to school, my friends made me piles of pictures because I had been sick on my birthday. When I was twelve, I missed ten days of school due to strep throat. Those are the memories I have of being really, really sick. I had perfect attendance in junior high, and I missed very few legitimate days of school in high school.

I have not left the house in eight days and I can't wait to feel better, because I am not good at being sick.

Homeschool: The Science Fair

2008-03-07T22:08:00.006-06:00

On Saturday, February 16, 2008, Max participated in his first science fair. I signed him up for the GATEWAY-sponsored activity (Gateway is the local organization for Gifted and Talented Education) through community education. We also registered for a fun and informative introductory class about the science fair. We attended that class several weeks before the science fair to learn about project ideas and layouts. The fair was held in the lower level of the Gonda Building, downtown on the Mayo campus.

Max and I enjoyed our "special time" the night of the class. We did three experiments together at the class, then headed over to the mall for a trip to the bookstore and some Cold Stone Creamery ice cream.

The following week, we browsed through a small stack of science books from our home library and the public library. Max narrowed his choices down to four experiments, from different fields of science, including biology, chemistry, and physics. He decided to study energy in foods because he wanted to "burn stuff and use a lighter."

The title of his experiment was "How Much Energy Do Foods Contain?" and I was excited to do the project with him. I remembered doing a similar experiment in my ninth grade science class, and learning about kcal and measuring temperatures, but I didn't remember very much.

Max and I learned a lot together, including Do Not Wait Until the Last Minute or Even the Last Week to Do Most of the Work. Max chose ten foods, with very little guidance from me, to use in his experiment. He chose foods that he likes to eat, including cherry sour candies, Mentos candies, an apple, a carrot, provolone cheese, chocolate, and a granola bar. We didn't realize how much time it would actually take to burn small samples of each of those foods. I expected that each food would burn for less than a minute; most of our samples burned much longer than that, and the granola bar burned for sixteen minutes.

The main premise of the experiment is to burn a food and determine how much energy is contained in the food by measuring how many degrees a can of cold water rises while the food is burning. The project was probably best suited for an older learner, but Max did many of the steps in the experiment himself. He measured 50 ml of water for each sample, measured the temperature, and recorded his data on a chart. He weighed and recorded the mass of each sample of food, typically 3 or 4 grams. He helped keep track of the time and the temperature of the water during the experiment.

At the end of the experiment, I asked Max what he learned and what he would do differently if he did the experiment again. He dictated almost two pages of single-spaced information, and I typed it. You can read his abstract online at:

http://smartthinkingmax.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-science-fair-project-abstract.html

Mitchell played Nintendo DS while Max's project was reviewed.

Max relaxed a bit after the first reviewer asked him questions about his project.

Another volunteer studied Max's project. Three separate reviewers examined his project and asked him questions about his work, including very sneaky questions like, "This looks like a lot of work. How long did it take you?" (Max's responded, "About two days. We just finished it yesterday.") and "Did you do this presentation board yourself?" (Max's responded, "No, my mom did it," and he forgot to mention that he helped.) One of the reviewers was happy to see that Max learned that the healthy foods burned longer, the equivalent of giving your body "healthy energy" rather than a quick, sugar-laden burst that doesn't last. I overheard her ask him, "What did your mom do before she had you?" and Max replied, "She worked at Victoria's Secret." Later she told me she would have guessed that I was a nutritionist, which was a very nice compliment.

All the science fair participants were divided into two groups, and when Max's group was done having their projects reviewed, they had a snack and attended a very interesting presentation about Antarctica, presented by the Science Museum of Minnesota. There were many beautiful photographs. The kids were so impressed to learn that some penguins can stay underwater for sixteen minutes.

Ahhh ... three reviews are finished. Now for the fun parts: snack break, Antarctica presentation, and checking out everyone else's projects.

The envelope, please! Max gets ready to see his scores!

Lots of excellents and positive comments!

In the News: Finally

2008-03-07T20:38:00.005-06:00

Click on the link below for the "official" disclosure ... there is a relationship between vaccines and autism. The legal system has finally declared what many parents have known for years. I still have goosebumps, and the admission doesn't really feel like a victory.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23505809#23505809

From My Kitchen: Tortilla Pie With Fixin's

2008-03-07T15:43:00.003-06:00

After enduring over a week of influenza, with me getting the worst case (thankfully), and the little guys being sick, too, I want to write something witty and cook something yummy. But I don't have energy for either of those things. So I will share with you three delicious recipes that are easy to make at the end of a long week. They are from one of my few regular-price cookbooks, Easy Weeknight Favorites, a collection of recipes from Southern Living. I bought the cookbook just for the following recipe, which is pictured on the cover. Enjoy!

Tortilla Pie

1 (16 ounce) can refried beans
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
8 (8 inch) flour tortillas
1 cup chunky salsa, divided
12 ounces guacamole
1 (8 ounce) package shredded Mexican cheese blend
Garnishes: sour cream, salsa, guacamole

Combine first three ingredients, stirring well.

Place one tortilla in a lightly-greased 9-inch round cakepan; spread with half of bean mixture and top with another tortilla. Spreak with 1/2 cup salsa and top with another tortilla. Spread with half of guacalmole and top with another tortilla. Sprinkle with half of the cheese, and top with another tortilla.

Repeat layers with remaining ingredients, except cheese. Pan will be full. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Uncover and sprinkle with remaining cheese. Bake uncovered for 3 to 5 more minutes. Cut into wedges to serve. Garnish, if desired. Makes 6 servings.

For a quick and tasty side dish, mix one prepared package of yellow rice, one can of black beans, and one can of enchilada sauce.

And for dessert ...

Fudge Spoon Pie

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 (1 ounce) square unsweetened chocolate
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
ice cream

Melt butter and chocolate in a saucepan over low heat, stirring often; remove from heat. Stir in sugar and next three ingredients. Pour batter into a greased 8-inch square pan. Bake at 325 degrees for 22 minutes. Do not overbake. (Dessert will be soft and mushy.) Serve warm with ice cream. Makes 9 servings.

Homeschool: What About Socialization?

2008-03-02T11:43:00.002-06:00

When my oldest son Max was just a baby, we had two sets of next-door neigbhors who homeschooled their children. I couldn't imagine sending my new little one off to school for half of his waking hours. I loved being him with while he was awake, and when he was sleeping, I found myself staring incredulously, in pure, joyous disbelief, at his sweet little face. Yet homeschooling didn't seem quite right for me. Not yet. I figured I would be ready to send my baby to school like everyone else by the time he reached kindergarten age. In the meantime, I often heard parents say, "They learn so many bad words at school," or "My fourth grader has three hours of homework tonight!" or "I'm so frustrated with my child's teacher." Many of these parents felt helpless in their situations.

I couldn't imagine not sending him to school. I was a teacher, and I loved many of my own teachers, and I wanted Max to have memories of his favorite teachers. I thought of my own favorite school memories: bringing treats to school on my birthday, having secret clubs with my friends during recess, taking a field trip with my classmates. And, although I didn't ask my neighbors, I thought, What about socialization? How will Max make friends? I harbored the once-traditional stereotype of homeschoolers as people who stay at home and read their textbooks all day. Fortunately, this mostly-inaccurate picture of homeschoolers is disappearing, in my opinion, even in the years since I had those first conversations with my neighbors about homeschooling. Now, everyone seems to know someone who homeschools, and most people with whom I have discussed homeschooling seem to regard it as a positive educational alternative to traditional schooling.

What social skills do we want our children to learn? I want my children to learn to take turns and share. I want them to learn to give sincere compliments and say please and thank you without reminders. I want them to learn to listen at the proper times and learn to be a polite member of an audience. I want them to learn to make eye contact with people when they are speaking, shake hands, and make proper introductions. I want them to learn about body language and use it appropriately. I want them to develop self-control. I want them to learn ways to make new friends. I want them to empathize with others and help those in need.

Most worthwhile journeys include a learning curve, and I have learned a great deal about homeschooling. I have learned that the social skills I want my children to learn do not need to be learned in a traditional classroom setting. I have learned that the best socialization for kids may not be sticking them in a class with twenty or thirty kids who were born in the same twelve-month time frame, assigned to whichever teacher happened to get their name. Wherever your children learn their social skills, that never-ending process requires gentle nurturing and constant practice. I have learned that the best kind of socialization begins in a loving home, where respect is modeled and practice. As Rachel Gathercole notes in her book, The Well-Adjusted Child: The Social Benefits of Homeschooling, "once upon a time, all children were homeschooled."

I have learned that there are many opportunities for homeschoolers to socialize with people of all ages, in settings that often provide some structure and guidance. During our homeschooling tenure, I have organized an intergenerational playgroup at a nursing home, a Bible study for stay-at-home moms and their children, an annual hayride and wiener roast, and Christmas caroling each December. We attended mixed-age music classes for five years. Max and Mitchell played with other children at monthly La Leche League meetings. They have participated in Sunday School and Vacation Bible School at our church.

Through our field trip club and our own efforts, we have taken tours of three farms, including the historic Kelley Living History Farm in Elk River, a hobby farm, and a thousand-acre Century Farm; the movie theatre; a bakery where bakers grind their own flour each morning; a pet store; the local newspaper facility; a pizza restaurant; an apple orchard and pumpkin patch; a berry-picking farm; and a saltwater aquarium. We have also toured Niagara Cave in Harmony and Mystery Cave in Forestville State Park.

We have visited several museums with friends and family, including the Children's Museum of Chicago, the American Museum of Natural History, the Minneosta Science Museum, the Minnesota Children's Museum, the Children's Museum of La Crosse, the Children's Museum of San Francisco, and the Minneapolis Institute of Art. What perfect experiences for hands-on, real-world learning!

I remember our most recent visit to the Children's Museum, to explore the Curious George exhibit. In the Waterworks area, his favorite part of the museum, Max figured out how to move a ping-pong ball through a maze of clear plastic pipes by manipulating a series of valves to adjust the water flow. Several adults and other children couldn't solve the puzzle, so Max patiently and gently showed them which valves to open or close at just the right time, just like a little teacher. That was a real-world assessment of his social skills, and I feel good about what he is learning as a homeschooler.

My children have participated in community education activities, including gym classes, science classes, art classes, and just-for-fun classes. Max has enjoyed tennis lessons and swimming lessons. With friends, we have taken many trips to area parks and the local Quarry Hill Nature Center, and Oxbow Park and Zollman Zoo in nearby Byron. Often we have so many opportunities to socialize, we have to say "not this time" so we can stay home and do other important kinds of learning!

In Rochester, there are many other opportunities for homeschoolers to socialize that we have not yet explored, activities that help young people learn a new skill and make friends in the community. There are speech classes and teams, an orchestra for homeschoolers, a vocal choir, a handbell choir, a basketball league, a 4-H club, book clubs, and the aforementioned field trip clubs. Some families join together and hire qualified instructors to teach their children art or chess.

Last week, while waiting for our field trip to begin, our group began visiting with a gentleman who worked at the restaurant we were about to tour. He had homeschooled his three daughters for three years and sang the praises of homeschooling. "And then," he told us, "I had to go back to work, and my wife couldn't take it, so she put them in school!" We moms looked at one another, trying to hide our grins, and silently patted ourselves on the back. So far we can "take it," although I think all of us find ourselves saying on the most trying days, "Don't make me send you to school!" That man reminded us that even everyday activities, like going to the store, provide practical and beneficial opportunities for socializing our children.

One of the unexpected benefits of homeschooling is the close relationship that brothers Max and Mitchell share. They are each others' best friend, and if Max were spending eight hours or more each day away from his little brother, neither of them would be able to play games together, read books together, and share meals together the way they do today, experiences that have molded their special friendship. In addition, Max and Mitchell have been able to experience many of those special school memories that I cherished -- the field trips, the birthday celebrations, the little clubs with playmates. They have those moments at places other than school.

I am not sharing our experiences for mere bragging rights. Rather, I hope to educate and inform others what the homeschooling experience is really like for many families today. If you are thinking about homeschooling, perhaps our experiences will help you feel confident in your decision to help your child learn at home ... at least, when you are not out socializing.

http://www.hslda.org/docs/hshb/75/hshbwk4.asp
http://www.homeschoolmn.com/
The Well-Adjusted Child: The Social Benefits of Homeschooling

My Favorites: The Beatitudes

2008-03-01T11:44:00.004-06:00

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.
Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.

- Matthew 5:3 - 10, King James Version

Singin' in the Kitchen

Another Tug on My Heartstrings

My Kids Say the Funniest Things

Holding On

More Questions I Can't Answer

On the First Day of Advent

Take a Picture ... It Will Last Longer

Summer is Not Gone

That Queasy Anxious Feeling

Summer, Wait! I'm Not Finished With You Yet!

The Feel Good Story of the Summer

The Political Alternative Rock Star

How to Grill

Sunday in Pictures: Cloudy Days Aren't Always Gray

Saturday in Pictures: The Fourth of July

Welcome Home, Bangalore Blondes!

It Feels Like Just Yesterday

Rochesterfest: Best of Times 2008

Queen For A Day

Saturday in Pictures

I Wish I Didn't Feel Scared

Take Me Out to the Ballgame!

N-E-W-U-L-M

Good Times

After the Rain

Health Food for Thought

Ron Paul Visits Rochester: Chalk One Up on the Famous People List

Earth Day Two

Longing for Long Days

Ron Paul to Visit Rochester

Memorial Day Weekend

Homeschool Field Trip: Fish Hatchery

We are Made of Dreams and Bones

A Dog's Life

Go Organic

My Kids Say the Funniest Things

Time to Talk a Little Politics

Just For Laughs

Homeschool Field Trip: Clarissa Explains It All

Homeschool Field Trip: Ellison Sheep Farm

Homeschool Field Trip: Fossil Hunting

Signs of Spring

Waiting For Godot

Field Trip: The Movie Theater

Homeschool Field Trip: Creatures of the Deep

Marshmallow Peeps

On My Bookshelf: Jon Hassler

Happy Easter, In Pictures!

An Easter Message ... for Every Day

Mind Benders: The Answers!

Top O' the Afternoon To Ya

My Mind Isn't Bending and I Mind

The Unwelcome Guest at Our House

Homeschool: The Science Fair

In the News: Finally

From My Kitchen: Tortilla Pie With Fixin's

Homeschool: What About Socialization?

My Favorites: The Beatitudes