Ella from the very first

Today is Ella's 8th birthday. We named her Ella Simone, the "Ella" after Ella Fitzgerald, and "Simone" after my favorite character in my favorite book, Kay Nolte Smith's book A Tale of the Wind. I had practice labor in the mornings for 12 days before she finally emerged, 9 days after the official due date, at 7:50 in the evening on Sunday, April 29, 2001.

Ella has always been irrepressibly Ella (not that we'd want to repress her or anything!). Sunshine on a cold day, that girl is. Always happy, unless she's (temporarily) dramatically unhappy. Always up for a snuggle. Loves dogs. Loves to dance. Will still play Mommy Birdie and Baby Birdie with me. Favorite color is pink. She paints rainbows into everyone's life.

Ella 2001:


Ella 2002:


Ella 2003:


Ella 2004:


Ella 2005:


Ella 2006:


Ella 2007:


Ella 2008:


Ella 2009:

Awareness of time and place

This academic year, one of the most noticeable developments Ella has had, aside from really learning to read, has been her awareness of time and place. I would say that before second grade she was essentially clueless about what time and date things happen, or where she was in time relative to upcoming events, or where she was in space relative to, say, her friend Dario in Pennsylvania. She might count down days on a calendar until Christmas, or even her birthday, but in a moment-to-moment way, she didn't really know what month followed this one, or what season followed spring, or what days she had karate, or how long it would be until she had to leave for dance class. But now, it's something on which she is rock-solid, and I would say that this solidity happened within the last few months. Other than that, she was go-with-the-flow of when things happened, looking forward to, say, Christmas, but more in the abstract.

Ella also has a much better sense of WHEN things happened...that is, she can locate the Revolution and the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century, the Civil War and Laura Ingalls in the 19th century, and rapid technology development and the birth of her parents in the 20th century. She can use reasoning to compare something in history against one of these times ("well, that happened before Westward Expansion, so it's probably the 1700s" or "computers hadn't been invented yet, so it's probably the earlier 1900s").

I've noticed this development also in terms of Ella's awareness of herself in space...that streets are within cities, which are within states, which are within geographic regions, which are in countries, which are on continents. She's much less likely to guess "France" when we ask where Ella Fitzgerald was born. She can read a map and instead of my having to tell her how much longer the drive will be, I'll tell her where we are on the map, and then she can estimate easily on her own given how long we've already been in the car. Part of what has helped with this, I think, has been that we do a Birthday of the Day and always orient the person in both time and place. But I also chalk it up to natural expansion of one's personal borders.

Interestingly, I would say that it's only within the past year that Madison has really gotten a sense of these kinds of issues, too. So I don't know whether Ella is early or Madison is late. But last year, Madison totally relied on me to keep track of the schedule and requirements for, say, choir rehearsals, but now that stuff registers with her. It's as though she has developed an internal ticker or monitor that didn't exist before.

A new computer: SnowyOwl

Yesterday, the UPS man (whom we female Rosses all love) brought Ella's new Netbook, an ASUS EEE.

It's not really just Ella's, it's the family's. I've been inwardly somewhat resentful that my laptop, where all of my work is stored, has been regarded as being The Family's laptop, with people feeling free to use it for, e.g., internet searching at the dinner table. No more! We now have a great, cute, sturdy little Netbook we can whip around the house easily. But, we got it in honor of Ella, and when no one else is using it, she gets first dibs.

It's not just that it's Ella's 8th birthday next week, although that is handy because this seems like the start of a series of celebrations. In March, Ella worked hard, so very hard, on an original story with illustrations for the annual Reading Rainbow contest. She really wanted the first prize, which was a laptop. And when she saw the Netbook at Best Buy and then one that her friends had, she really, really wanted the Netbook. She had a hankering for the computer in a way she never had before. She'd bring it up at odd moments, ways she might use her Netbook if only she had one.

At one point when she was writing her story, called "The Shy Snowy Owl," she was stuck. The end seemed a long way away. "I'm so motivated by that prize," she said. "But what if I don't win it? Imagining that I don't win is getting in my way right now."

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm so impressed with all of your hard work here that if you finish it and don't win, there will be a Mommy Prize."

The story really was good. I thought she had a chance of at least placing in the Rochester competition. But no, last week we got the word that she hadn't. So, that afternoon we went over to Best Buy. I led her to the Netbook section. She was elated. But they didn't have any ASUSes in stock. That night, I placed my order for the Netbook and it came yesterday.

The child is happy, happy, happy with her Netbook. Can you tell from that face? And we may enter the story in another competition some time.

As a matter of principle, I don't go buying stuff (much less computers!) for the kids when there are disappointments, and very few things that they accomplish are motivated by anything other than how good they'll feel for having accomplished it. But sometimes, when very hard work has gone into something, a concrete representation of the work can serve as a great future reminder of how hard something had been and yet had been accomplished. Ella named the computer SnowyOwl, and she is very proud of the work she put into "The Shy Snowy Owl." Not having won doesn't bother her. It may be partly because she's watched my own experience of the last few months: I know that my own book is good, but it's been rejected by a dozen agents so far, and I was completely prepared for that to happen. So, it can happen to anyone, and I think she gets it.

A friend mentioned that she'd heard there are services out there to bind your child's story into a real book. Anyone know where I can do that?

Kids' authors really do write back

As part of Madison's poetry explosion last week, she wrote (in a flash, it seemed) a poem about Cam Jansen, the heroine of David Adler's "Cam Jansen" series of detective books for kids. Cam has a photographic memory; when she goes "click," it's her mental camera taking a perfect image of the scene in front of her. Madison wrote this poem:

Cam Jansen is an alien! An alien from outer space!
She is here using her memory to save the human race!
Soon many clickers just like her will be spread across the world!
And every single one of them will be a red haired little girl!

I suggested she look up David Adler's web site and see if there is a contact email for him. There was! She wrote him a nice note, including the poem. He wrote back a gracious note to her the other day, telling her the poem is great, and he's happy she likes his books.

One of the lessons I took away from the children's book writers' conference in January is just how much the feedback from readers means to writers. And it works both ways, too: It's exciting to get a personal note back from an author! It's a good lesson: Just a little effort on the part of a 9-year-old to express appreciation adds quite a lot of value to at least two people in the world. I'm going to try to have the girls write more to the authors they care about; it's a cost-free effort that can only do good.

A new hobby for Madison

Last Friday, the girls and I made majority of the third of four quilts for my friend Anne's children. I made one when Charlotte was born in 1992, then for Wyatt in 2006 the girls "helped" me make a lovely yellow-and-blue quilt that we got in time for the baby shower three months before he was born. Duncan was born in late 2007, but life has been such a busy ride since then that poor Duncan hadn't gotten one, and here he is 16 months old. Now that Anne is expecting the fourth (a girl!) in August, I decided that busy or no, Baby #3 needed his quilt before Baby #4 arrived. And so I give you the Froggy Good Friday quilt (or Lucky Friday, as Ella has taken to calling it):



Can you tell that it is meant to be "boxes of frogs"? That's a frog pattern within the boxes.

That quilt is now winging its way downstate, and we hope Duncan loves it. I have a feeling that having mastered an easy quilt, the girls will have some bigger plans for New Girl Baby Quilt a little later on in the season.

As a result, Madison has taken to the sewing machine in a big way. She has liked hand-sewing, but mastering the use of the sewing machine is a Big Step. (She's always been somewhat skittish about things that could potentially hurt her in some way.) She now sees all of her old hand-sewing efforts as terribly clumsy compared with what she is able to do on the machine. She's very excited, and today she started sewing a tiny quilt on her own with some of the scraps from Duncan's quilt. One seam had to be ripped out 3 times, but she still didn't get discouraged. I think maybe this is a new obsession.

How different non-crappy people are

I have a friend who is dealing with a weird student-student stalking problem at her daughter's school -- not something truly dangerous, I think, but enough that she's pulling all of her own biographical information and anything that pertains to her daughter off the web. She writes for my KidsOutAndAbout.com web site, so I just went through some removals for her this morning.

I did let her know, just in case she didn't, that she's perfectly within her rights to pull her daughter out at the drop of a hat, and home school her for the rest of the year. I just wanted to let her know that there IS another option.

We are so lucky, we who home educate. We are so NOT trapped. My kids get to choose exactly who they hang out with, just like in the real world. They can turn their backs on any crappy people. In general, the other kids in all their homeschooling classes are very nice, and they have made some real friends. My kids went to a birthday party yesterday at the home of their best friends (two other homeschooling sisters) and, you know, the kids just get to be KIDS. There is no pressure to grow up too soon, so all of them (they're age 8 through 10) played Littlest Pet Shop together, without anyone worrying that it might be too babyish.

It makes life so much easier, and I think the difference between my parenting concerns and the parenting concerns of traditionally-schooled 'tween and teen girls will grow that much more stark over the next several years.

True fans

Madison and Ella say they prefer MY out-loud reading of Noel Streatfeild's Theater Shoes to the audio book for the same title that we've gotten out of the library. This despite my very creaky froggy voice (result of a cold that is now in Day 12), whose accent is decidedly not British. They've asked for me to read at meals, bedtime, and in between for the last five days. I comply, of course. I'll soak in any evidence that I'm still Numero Uno in their eyes.

People warn that it can't last that much longer, now that I have TWO 'tweens. I'm betting otherwise; we really LIKE each other, those Small People and I. I'll keep ya posted.

Reading ability makes ALL the difference in standardized testing

In New York, every other year starting in the 4th grade (or 5th grade), the end of the year home school evaluation needs to be a standardized test. In Virginia, I chose to give Madison the CAT (California Achievement Test) at the end of her 1st grade year.

I was always a whiz at standardized tests. They never caused me any stress. I actually liked them. I took the SAT 7 times, starting in 7th grade, so by the time I took it early senior year I had no trouble or worries.

By the time Madison was at the end of first grade, she was devouring books like Harry Potter. Madison took to standardized testing like a duck to water, or at least like a challenge-loving kid to a challenge. She tested at a 6th grade level at the end of 1st grade.

Ella never took a standardized test before. But because it's time for Madison to take one to fulfill state requirements, I've ordered the CAT tests for 2nd grade and 4th grade this year. We just got them. I also ordered the 2nd grade test prep book for Ella, figuring that Madison wouldn't need to prepare.

So why do I care if ELLA prepares, given that I don't need to send her test scores anywhere? When I look at it this way, it seems that I am being foolish.

Now, as she winds up her second grade year, Ella is about an average reader, I estimate. But SO MUCH of the CAT depends on reading ability that it's really all they are testing. Ella has come very far this year; she NEVER could have managed this test at the beginning of the year, and that's saying something. So I have no idea how half of the kids even manage to take this test. Even the math has to do with reading. I don't really care if Ella knows that eight thousand, seven hundred and eighty-four translates to 8,784. I'd much rather she knows the answer to 7x+1=50. But the first one is a test question, not the second.

So why am I doing this if I don't really care about someone else's arbitrary standards? The answer is, I'm not sure.

It's good to have a sense of where my kid measures up against what other second graders are being tested for in the country. I guess. But to my surprise and somewhat to my dismay, I'm caring, much more than maybe I should. (Ella, of course, has no idea that I do, I'm very careful not to show it.) I see a problem to which she doesn't know the answer (or a subject that we haven't covered), and I wince, inside. What does it mean about her education, that I haven't taught her that yet? Oh, goodness, she's forgotten how to read a clock, she knew that back in the fall, maybe I'm letting her be too much a child of the digital age..." I worry about whether I can read the directions out loud with her, or whether she must read them herself, and let the chips fall where they may if she doesn't understand.

And, worst of all, this test makes it thoroughly apparent to me that Ella's reading level is way far behind where Madison's was at the end of first grade. Now, I'm not all hyped up on my kids being precocious in everything, or even in anything. But there's no question that Madison takes in far more information per unit time than Ella does, simply because she reads voraciously. I was the same way at her age, and it made for a very rich intellectual life.

Ella is fine. Ella is exactly where she should be in some things, and beyond in others, such as math, history, science, and general cultural literacy. But the kid won't read on her own, for pleasure. And maybe this is an instance of Bad Mommy surfacing, but it privately drives me nuts. It makes me worry. Madison's reading (combined with the tenacity with which she tackles ideas she wants to understand) makes her so smart; she's got these two great tools for learning that Ella hasn't really cultivated yet. I can't exactly say to Ella, "Read, damn it, and start enjoying it, QUICK, because I don't want it ever to be apparent to you that your sister is way beyond where you are when she was the same age." I can't exactly say, "CARE MORE about ideas!" I can lead, we can all serve as her models, but I can't exhort the child to be "more like the rest of your family." I mean, she's not even 8 yet, for pity's sake. She's going to lead a perfectly smart, rich life. I'm not in the least worried about that. But I do worry that Madison is going continually to come off as this brainy genius through her life, and Ella will be regarded as Madison's Little Sister. I don't want her EVER to see herself in that light.

Interestingly enough, Ella actually LIKES working in the test preparation booklet. I was prepared for her to like most of the math, because it is, as she calls it, mostly "easy-puhleasy." But she even likes the reading comprehension. She's not having much trouble with it, she's doing fine even if not stellar, and she's been perfectly willing to work on these with me for a couple of hours each day.

But I still almost feel as though I'm betraying my own educational philosophy, that I'm falling into the same trap as today's public school teachers subject to No Child Left Behind are -- and who would have thought that I would ever feel THEIR pain? Today, we didn't get to reading about the American Revolution because we worked on test prep and then had to go out to science class. That has to be wrong, right?

As you can tell, I'm still working through this issue. Comments welcome.

It's the Nash-Silverstein-Enright influence, I think

We haven't been paying an unusual amount of attention to poetry, lately, but Madison has been excited about writing it in the last week or so. Her poetry used to aim at flowery free-verse language, but now she's playing with rhythm and rhyme and cleverly-made-up words more than she used to. (Not at my behest, this is her own doing.)

She's quite pleased with what she wrote today:

I am always happy.
I am always gleeful.
And it's that happy gladness
That makes me so me-ful!

She loved this Easter rhyme of John Enright's from the other day:

If you see a chocolate rabbit,
grab it.

And, calmly, with aplomb,
go nom nom nom.

I'm thinking it's partly this little poem that has gotten her writing a lot in the last several days. Thanks, John!

Nicer Easter reflections, by Ella and Madison

Cute Little Bunnies
by Madison

Bunny, bunny, oh how funny
Hop around all day.

Bunny, bunny, you're sweet as honey
In your bunny way.

All the bunnies are so fuzzy
As soon as the spring starts,

All the bunnies big and small
Make their way into our hearts.



The Easter Bunny
by Ella


The feeling of spring has finally arrived
Bunnies are hopping everywhere
And the humming of bees are in the air
Tomorrow is Easter
And the Easter Bunny is hiding away
So keep your eyes peeled, I am telling you here
And to the Easter Bunny...
Beware.

Some Easter reflections

We have a tendency in our society to equate SUFFERING with GOODNESS.

I know. Saying it in that bald way, it seems obvious. We shouldn't do this. But we do.

It takes this form: We take the extent to which we fuss or feel angst about something as a direct measure of our own personal goodness. We often reassure ourselves and others, "But I CARE," as if our caring is just as important as doing the right thing. Moreover, this itself becomes an excuse not to act, in two ways: As long as we're suffering, we're doing SOMETHING, and it's easier than acting to change it. And, if we act to change it, we won't have the opportunity to suffer and demonstrate our obvious goodness any more.

I know, this in no way seems profound to some of you. But I recently dropped this observation casually into a conversation with two different friends, smart people I love and respect. To them, it was literally jaw-dropping.

Obviously, this springs directly from the Judeo-Christian influence on our culture. It's definitely there in Catholicism, but despite the obvious Christian equation of suffering with divinity, my Jewish friend heartily affirmed that it's a big part of Jewish culture, too. When I brought it up to her this way, she understood in a flash just how unhealthful this is: She's the type that "takes things to heart" -- literally -- which has actually caused her some cardiac stress. How much better to calmly deal with life than to ruminate about it!

The second friend was raised Catholic, and it really resonated with her as well. She reflected that our culture actually places angst on the same level of ethics with action.

It seems to me that so often people use this psychologically as a free pass not to act: "At least I'm *stressed out* about it! It's causing me a lot of grief, so that must mean I'm a good person."

I jettisoned this sense of life a long time ago, mostly thanks to Rand. But I hadn't grasped, at the time, how very important it is to reject this attitude, or the variety of ways in which society reinforces the idea. I certainly hadn't understood how good it would be for my physical, not just psychological, health.

So cute I wish I knew where Madison put the camera

This evening, the girls decided to make a "fort" in our bedroom: They dragged ottomans and chairs and large pillows and the like about 2 feet away from the windows, and pulled the floor-length curtains over the tops of these makeshift fort walls. They draped more blankets and sheets around to make doors and reinforce the fort ceiling. They snuggled in more blankets and pillows, and despite my predictions to the contrary, they are now peacefully sleeping inside their fort.

I'm so grateful they're still young enough to want to do this!

I really hope they don't wake up in the middle of the very dark night and panic, not knowing where they are. At least I'll only be 5 feet away.

Anyway, it's a good thing they're doing this now, because last night David and I pulled up a corner of the dirty-beige carpet in the bedroom and discovered that the hardwood floors underneath are great. We're thinking this weekend might be a big get-rid-of-ugly-carpet weekend. Colder, to be sure, in an already-cold room, but we'll manage.

Beat that logic

This morning, David broached the idea of going to church this Sunday with the girls.

"Dad," said Ella, in, apparently, a lecturing sort of tone, "Easter is about bunnies, and springtime, and candy, and eggs, and chicks, and stuff like that. Why would we ruin it by going to hear someone give a talk about a guy who was murdered?"

Me, I'm with her.

Sketch-up

Last week was an insanely busy week, culminating in a Gala on Saturday night that I helped coordinate. At the beginning of the week, I was vaulted into the position of Acting President of the board of directors of the kids' choir because of health problems on the part of the president. Then, the night before the Gala, the Master of Ceremonies, a local baritone, called with the news that he had pneumonia. So I had to be not only Acting President but Acting MC. Then I promptly got sick. But this morning I really feel on my way up.

My kids have been using a wonderful free program of late called Sketch-Up. It lets you draw in 3-D. Here is what Ella did this morning: "My Summer House." (Actually, "My Summr Hows")



Can you see the little garden, the deck, the house, and the pond? I love it!

Madison has been redesigning the layout of her room using Sketch-Up. I had seen a notice about it with a note that it is also wonderful for kids with autism, a really neat and not-too-difficult way to express oneself in ways that look just beautiful.

If you download it, the free version is great, don't try for the Pro version; you have to pay for that.

Welcome to my homeschooling life

Me: Okay, we've just distributed the negative three into (6x - 11) to make -18x + 33. What would you do now?

Madison: Go out and play.

Lincoln into Art

A few months ago, I decided to bring Wendy Allen, an artist who paints Abraham Lincoln (and ONLY Lincoln...that's her only subject) to Rochester. She is on a tour of cities in the U.S. for the Lincoln Bicentennial. Wendy conceived of an enormous Lincoln Birthday Card signed by the people. At each city, she has the public sign these enormous white panels (switching them out when they get full), with birthday messages for Abraham Lincoln. She also paints one portrait of Lincoln over the several days she is in the city, and she also has a program called One Brushstroke, wherein she draws in an outline of Lincoln on a canvas, and then the entire community helps paint the portrait.

I say *I* decided to bring Wendy.

Okay, how could *I* decide to bring her?

The answer is testament to the power of one individual to make things happen. Well, two, actually, if you count Wendy, and three, if you count her partner Elaine.

I talked with various committees (it's also Rochester's 175th anniversary) and organizations about bringing Wendy. It wasn't going to cost that much, just some shipping expenses, supplies, and putting her up for four nights in a hotel. Everyone was interested, but then everyone declined because of The Money.

But I wanted her. I knew it would be awesome. And I wanted to Do Something. You know, to celebrate the Big Guy on his 200th. If there's anyone worth celebrating, it's Lincoln.

So I decided to bring her. KidsOutAndAbout.com would pay for the supplies and shipping and overnight (she's just driving from CT). The Rochester Museum & Science Center agreed to host her from 12-4 today through Sunday. And the Strathallan hotel put her up in a lovely executive suite for four nights, free. (Amazing what you can get when you ask.)

So wham, there it is. She's here. And the event is not only a National Lincoln Bicentennial event, it's also an official Rochester 175th Anniversary event. I took Wendy and Elaine out to dinner last night. They're great people, true Lincoln aficionados, and we had a lovely time. It made the Democrat & Chronicle. I've faxed the TV stations; we'll see if they show up.

This morning, I helped her set up. Ella was the first person to paint One Brushstroke on the portrait of Lincoln that the community gets to keep. Actually, technically, I think *I* get to keep it, because I'm the one who bought the supplies and got her to do it in the first place. But I'm going to donate it either to the RMSC if they want it, or to the Memorial Art Gallery if the RMSC doesn't want it.

Here are some photos:







Wendy's web site is LincolnIntoArt.com.

Have I mentioned I have the best kids?

A friend of mine has been having some odd chest and neck pain, and had what is known as a "nuclear stress test" on Thursday afternoon.

After the doctors at the clinic viewed the test results, they chose to rush her to the hospital, thereby giving all of her friends (figurative) heart attacks.

She had an angiogram yesterday. Her heart seems to be fine, and no artery blockages. "You seem to be fine," they told her. "You can probably go home this afternoon."

Of course, in the late afternoon, they told her they wanted her to stay overnight for observation.

God damn the medical profession.

To cover themselves and make themselves seem like they really knew what they were talking about, they loaded my friend up with all kinds of precautions about not gripping things or picking things up for days because they had to insert the catheter in her wrist and it all has to heal.

My friend is a much better patient than I am. I'm so skeptical of the medical profession that I would pretty much ignore all of that nit-picky cautionary advice and go on my own proprioception instead, at least as long as the tests showed I was relatively healthy. My friend, though, has a host of other medical issues, and so she doesn't monkey around.

She got released from the hospital this afternoon and will be staying with us for a day or two. I can tell you this, my house is a LOT more relaxing than the hospital. She's on the couch in the TV room, and has been asleep for 3 hours.

Anyway, the girls and I spent the better part of two days in the hospital, and not a peep of complaint from either of them. They hung out and read and did their work. So I took the Best Kids in the Whole World to Chili's last night. I am feeling very fortunate right now, to have my health, fairly low stress, a lovely husband, and wonderful children. I don't need anything else. Not even a beautiful piece of stained glass for my bathroom. Really, I don't need it.

Don't suck a plastic cup really hard up to your face for an extended period of time

Madison was experimenting the other night. She was taking a hard plastic cup -- one of those Tupperware ones -- and creating a vacuum, sucking it up against her mouth and chin really hard for a few minutes.

She now has a giant purple bruise all over her chin, from her mouth downward. She looks something like a 3-year-old who has just slobbered over a giant purple lollypop.

Of course, I don't tell her that. "Why, no, Madison, it looks fine, you don't even notice unless you look up close."

Of course, when you DO look up close, you want to laugh.

As a result, we had some interesting anatomy explanations about capillaries and what might cause them to break, and what happens when the blood leaks out from them. (She found out, obviously.)

Talk about reality generating consequences.

#@!#$!#% Taxes

Is anyone else having a harder time than usual getting together the information to do taxes?

I always hate accounting, but this year I hate it so much I haven't even gotten started pulling everything together. I sit down and just can't make myself do it. I'm envisioning all of the idiots who are going to be getting my money and doing with it what they please. The fury just overwhelms me.

Mr. iPhone again

Mr. or Ms. iPhone looked at my Frontier Team book web site again yesterday.

That was two accesses, three days apart.

I guess it means that someone is at least CONSIDERING representing me. Wonder if I'll find out who.

I'm not nervous, though. I'm still steadily sending out queries. They say it's just as hard to find a good agent as it is to find a publisher, and I believe it.

Ella is over her "scared" phase

It actually took over a year for Ella to outgrow her "scared" phase.

In January 2008, when she was 6, I took her to a new ballet class where she and the instructor immediately didn't click. She had to leave, she was sobbing.

I thought it was a very temporary case of nerves, but the next week, and the following week, she was really upset during the class and had to manage herself. I took her out permanently after the third week.

What followed was a semester in which she didn't want me to leave her anywhere, at any time, at any class alone, even karate, where she'd been going for over a year. This was very odd because Ella had always been far and away more secure and flexible than Madison in new situations.

Boy, was that one unexpectedly gradual decline in fear; it was only as of THIS January, a year later, that I no longer give thought to whether Ella is going to have a problem if I leave her at a class. I will admit that I cut out two classes for her in the fall semester because I a) didn't want the hassle of having to stay put in the lobby for an hour or an hour and a half and b) I wanted her to have only the classes she loved so that she would stop having the experiences of anxiety entirely.

I had had to decide between using it as a time to teach her to manage her anxiety, versus having her not have it at all, and I chose the latter.

It seems to have been the right choice. She's really secure and happy. I think I could leave her anywhere -- anywhere reasonable, of course -- without the anxiety.

This experience does show how one bad experience can really seize the mind of a child and cause dramatic changes.

Madison can spell

Sometime in the last couple of months, Madison flipped from being someone who can't really spell to someone who can spell just fine.

I'm not sure how it happened. It's not as though she's somehow reading any better or more than she was a year ago; she's as equally obsessed with reading now as then. She's not reading that much more complicated things, not any higher level of nonfiction than a year ago, she reads about 1/4 nonfiction and 3/4 fiction.

It's not as though I have been pressing the spellng issue. We don't do it every day. She's been writing pretty steadily, although even a little less than she was in September.

I can't identify any single element in her education that changed, except possibly that recently I've been doing somewhat more writing on the Frontier Team Book 2 with her sitting next to me.

It really does feel as though she suddenly switched over to knowing how to spell things. She wrote an email note to our nature guide, Liz, on Wednesday. I check things before she sends them out--mostly at her request--and there wasn't a single misspelling or grammar problem.

So, I'm happy, but hmmmmm. It all kind of works in with those learning readiness points I've been noticing, that we have a slow-paced gradual rate of improvement and suddenly shoot up to a plateau. I think I notice these more now than when they were toddlers and preschoolers; then, the new learning rate was out of sight, and while I certainly noticed the milestones, they were closer together and I had already identified them as potential milestones. With Madison, I had resigned myself to gradual improvement in spelling, which has been happening for the past three years. And then, whammo, it takes me by surprise.

Ella's flock of bats

Last night, we had Rochester bat expert Liz Thompson over to our house, along with 15 little Brownie Girl Scouts, for a hike to complete the Watching Wildlife badge. We love Liz, she had been at our favorite nature center until the place was deemed less than necessary by the administration. Anyway, a great hike was had by all, although we weren't searching for bats, of course, not at this time of the year.

Ella drew a bat on the computer for Liz this morning, and then she worked with me in Photo Impact to create this:



We love technology here at Mariposario.

School Specialty Publications sale

For fellow home schoolers:

School Specialty Publications is having a big sale on over 900 items. I went through and got some terrific deals.

And if you spend over $35 (which actually took some doing because a lot of things are going CHEAP), you can get free shipping if you use promotional code HPFS3078.


Here is a link to get to the sale items:
http://www.schoolspecialtypublishing.com/store/default.aspx?DepartmentId=49

I'll take my good news in tiny chunks

I've been sending out about a query per day to mostly agents and a few publishers. And, getting rejections at a slower clip.

I started an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of everything.

Interestingly, yesterday I noticed that of the rejections I've received, NO ONE had looked at The-Frontier-Team.com web site I'd set up to help sell the book. I send them the standard email query according to their specifications, with a link to my web site. Of the few prompt-ish (within 3 weeks) rejections I've received so far, no one had even bothered clicking through to the web site.

But this morning, someone on an iPhone somewhere in the U.S. looked at it at 6:16 in the morning.

I hope it wasn't one of YOU! :-)

Swaying

In recent weeks, Madison has begun swaying. She shifts her weight back and forth from foot to foot when she should be just standing still, and sometimes even lifts each foot off the ground.

She looks like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. And it's driving me nuts. I see her doing it out of the corner of my eye, and it makes me feel just like those IMax movies do, the ones that are supposed to make you feel like you're flying or on a roller coaster. I literally start to get motion sick.

When Madison focuses on her body, she's fine. But when she's thinking about something else or talking or whatever, that's when it starts. I remind her to have a sense of her body, and it stops for a minute or two, then it starts up again. I sometimes take hold of her shoulders and bring the swaying to a halt, to make her notice how very much her body is moving when she doesn't notice. I have even been guilty of a "Madison, for pity's sake! You're making me dizzy!" at the third or fourth reminder.

It doesn't happen when she's sitting, only when she's standing. She explained it once as an urge to feel her legs (knees, I think) moving against each other.

I feel as though I have to nip this in the bud or it could become an ingrained habit. I just can't have her going through life moving like Rain Man. Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill here, but it's just driving me crazy. I hope it's a phase.

Under the most benevolent of pressure...

Bowing to convention (in the person of Donald Heath), I have joined Facebook.

Is this the right way for you all to find me?
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1201271669&ref=profile

This is actually good news

The literary agent to whom I submitted a query about 3 weeks ago just rejected me.

This was really good news, because I had made a couple of mistakes in submitting:

1) I shouldn't have discounted the fact that this guy preferred funkier stuff than I write.

2) I shouldn't have given him exclusivity in reviewing it. That usually gets more and quicker attention from the agent when you submit your stuff. But you have to wait up until about 3 months without hearing from him before you can submit your stuff elsewhere, when you grant exclusivity.

3) I should have gathered my list of prospective agents ahead of time, to take the time to decide to whom it would have made sense to submit first. See, only a day or so after I submitted my query to this agent, I found another agent who would probably be a lot better.

Last week, at the 2 week point, I spoke with the author whom the agent loves, whose books he edited about 5 years ago. She said that not only does he prefer really funky, off-beat stuff, but that he is SLOW and could take up to the full 3 months to get back to me.

Yikes.

So, I resigned myself to submitting to publishers, rather than agents, for the next couple of months. But yesterday, I got an email from the first agent. He rejected me very kindly, saying that it wasn't anything he could see wrong with my book, just that he likes edgier material.

YAY! I'm free.

So today, I submitted to the agent I REALLY want to sell my books. Non-exclusively, of course...I've learned my lesson.

Fingers crossed. If she accepts me, it might mean that my Penn degree means something, for the first time in 18 years. (She went to Penn, too.)

And today, I spent a blissful 3 hours in the University of Rochester library, researching Washington Medals that were given to American Indians in 1789, 1792, and 1793, for the next book in the series. I even wrote a couple of scenes for this book, and planned even more. It was quiet. I need more quiet. (Not that I'm going to GET more quiet, but I need it.)

A good book day.

Overheard this morning

David, to Ella: "Are you really this cute?"

Ella: "If I AM as cute as I am, how can I NOT be as cute as I am?"

I guess A is A.

Below-board capitalism alive and well in our neighborhood

We had a fierce windstorm yesterday here in Rochester that knocked down a big cherry tree near the sidewalk in our front yard. It also ripped out the phone lines.

I was just coming home with the kids around noon and found our block completely blocked off at the end. There were a bunch of fire engines. They were in front of MY house.

The cop wouldn't let me through. "But that's MY house!" I said, insistantly. I couldn't say it with too much tension in my voice because the kids were in the car with me. I had no idea what was going on.

"Sorry, lady, you'll have to go around the block."

So I did, but that end was blocked off, too. So I turned around, parked in front of my back-yard neighbor's house, and we all trooped through together.

"I heard a tremendous crack," said Lou as we walked. "It's across the street, I think."

But no, there it was, a large cherry tree laying diagonally across my front yard, from southwest to northeast. It WASN'T the magnolia tree next to the house, thank goodness. I love that magnolia, it's beautiful in the spring, and both the kids and I were grateful that it was unharmed, only a few small limbs down. The cherry tree didn't hit the house when it came down, because of the angle. AND, it was mostly ripped out, stump and all. So no need for any of that. If we had to lose a tree, it was the best way.

The best part, though, is that the fallen tree attracted attention, the right kind. The kind that represents the best part of America's get-up-and-hustle mentality. I had no fewer than four different groups of guys knock on the door yesterday and today to ask if I wanted to hire someone to chop it all up and haul it away.

Today, two groups came (coincidentally) together: One was a pair of guys named Jim (both of them) who had been by yesterday. At the same time, the ex-chief of the local fire department came by. HE said he'd be happy to cut it all apart on Saturday for NOTHING, if he could have the firewood. The Jims originally wanted $200 to cut and stack it (one of them does this one his own as a contractor). All together, we negotiated that the Jims would clear all of the twigs and brush today, lop off some of the smaller limbs and stack them for firewood for me, for $100. And then the fireman would come back on Saturday and chop up and take the rest with him.

Sold! ("Boy, you're getting a great deal," the fireman said to me in an aside. I agreed.)

The Jims got to work, after I had them sign a waiver stating that they wouldn't sue me if they got hurt. (Because, who knows.)

It was great. Here is a photo of them with my tree:



The undamaged magnolia is the one on the right side, still standing.

But it gets better yet. I only had $85 in cash on me. I told the Jims I'd have to go to a cash machine for the extra, unless they wanted me to raid the girls' piggy banks for nickels.

"No problem," said Main Jim, after a bit of consultation with Other Jim. "We'll do it for $85 if you give me the opportunity to quote you on getting off the dead limbs on the huge tree in the back."

Sold, again!

So, for $85, I got firewood for all of next year, I got to meet some nice Jims and a fireman, and the other guys who came by but didn't get the job. I found a cheap, spunky guy I like to fix the trees in the back yard soon. And, the Frontier Telephone guy ran a new wire for free to us today. All in all, the best kind of Natural Disaster to experience.

And those gentlemen, they had good, hard, firm handshakes when they left.

I felt so American.

Appreciation

Hand-in-hand with my observations about immersing oneself in what nurtures the soul, I'd like to address an important corollary: expressing appreciation.

I don't mean communicating my appreciation of the beautiful to my kids; that's important, of course, but I'm thinking about something else here:

I mean that one should, if possible, find the person who created the beauty in the first place, and thank him or her for doing so. It's not only justice; it also encourages that person to do more.

I have been thinking about this hard ever since I attended the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators conference in January. One thing that struck me is how incredibly appreciative of good feedback from readers were even the most famous of the authors speaking. They used them as examples in their talks of the real kind of payback an author receives. Royalties are fine, was the implication, but letters from readers are food for the soul.

So, this morning, I emailed the composer who wrote the piece that especially moved me at the concert last night. He is still living. His web site was the easiest thing in the world to find. He lives in California, but he must get up early, because only an hour or so after I sent him a note of appreciation for his artistry, I received this:

Many, many thanks to you for taking the time to express your feelings about Songs of The Slave. That is the kind of letter that brightens the day of every composer. Even when things are not going well, we can remember such a letter and realize that what we are doing does really touch the hearts of many people that we do not even know. That is the best reward of all!

So my point for this post is that we should always try to think about the creator of what we appreciate, and see what we can do to express our appreciation. Especially in times like now, creators need encouragement, and what better encouragement is there than the appreciation for the good they have created? I'm reminded of a passage in Atlas Shrugged where Francisco is talking to Rearden about Rearden's creation, and who it is for:

"Did you want to see it used by men...who could never invent your Metal, but who would do their best, work as hard as you did, live by their own effort, and--riding on your rail--give a moment's silent thanks to the man who gave them more than they could give him?"

"Yes," said Rearden eagerly.

All I'm adding here is that the thanks needn't be silent.

Authors, composers, educators, poets, thinkers, journalists, builders, scientists, entrepreneurs, performers, politicians who do the right thing in the face of opposition... who deserves your appreciation today?

Immersion

My friend Peter Saint-Andre has been writing of late about the need to immerse ourselves in that which is most beautiful in order to have a happy life despite what sometimes seems to be crumbling around us. Remembering this has been comforting. It seems to me that it is my job as a parent both to do this for my kids and to teach them to do this for themselves.

Last night, Madison's Bach Children's Chorus concert was with, as it mostly is, adult choruses and an orchestra; this time, it was the Rochester Oratorio Society hosting the BCC and also the Morgan State University Chorus from Baltimore. The concert's title was "Partners in Freedom: Lincoln & Douglass," and (even to Lincoln- and Douglass-lovers like David and me) it didn't disappoint. The combined choruses did a piece called “Sacred Ground,” which was the Gettysburg Address set to music by David Diamond, some spirituals, and a Mendelssohn piece called Laudate Pueri Dominum. Then, the two adult choirs did a version of Ave Maria I’d never heard and Kirke Mechem’s “Songs of the Slave” from his John Brown’s Opera.

Immersing myself in the music didn't exactly make me forget what is going on in the world, but it did allow the appreciation of The Best Within Us to take the active place in my consciousness. We need more of this. We need more of this in DEFIANCE of other things crumbling.

I hope Madison and Ella look back on their childhood as a time when their parents surrounded them with The Best that is within human beings, and showed them how to do this on their own. There are times and places for kids gradually to start grappling with ugliness, but it's not now. There is no need, yet. The girls will learn about how to deal with ugliness and strife later; now is the time for them to conquer the minor (or major, depending on how you look at it) challenges of learning how to learn, and how to navigate in what is still mostly a beneficent universe. To the extent that they can learn to surround themselves with what is beautiful, they will be able to find those fulfilling pockets of beauty, and create more of them, even if the world is not an ideal place later on.

How quick they learn when the time is right

I realized this week that I hadn't reviewed division of fractions with Madison in a long time, and that I'd never taught her how to compute averages. We have been working our way through a sixth-grade assessment test that I gave her in January, working on the bits of math that she didn't remember or had never learned how to do.

Earlier this week, in 10 minutes, we did division of fractions.

Then, yesterday, in 10 minutes, we did averages.

The same thing happened this morning with Ella. She knows the multiplication tables, so today was the day to move on to multiple-digit multiplication (2 by 1). First I did some where there is no carrying (e.g., 22 x 3), then some where the tens answer has more than one digit (73 x 2) and then finally moved on to the need to carry the tens place (63 x 4).

She needed to be shown it once, and then did a dozen problems on her own, all of which she got exactly right.

I remember spending weeks in elementary school on things like these.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to spend the months it took Ella to learn the multiplication tables. But it's amazing how quickly they learn something new when they are rock-solid on what they need to know in order to learn it, and there is only one more little concept or strategy to employ to get the new skill. A lot of learning isn't like that; you have to learn two or three or even more concepts all at once in order to learn the new idea. We still do that kind of learning, with a lot being thrown at you all at once. But it's worthwhile remembering how pleasurable it is to do exactly-the-next-step learning. I'll try to do more of that with the girls.

Rand books for charity!

Hi, folks. I wanted to let all the Ayn Rand fans out there know that you can bid for FIVE Rand brand-spanking new books on MissionFish, which the Bach Children's Chorus is using for fund raising.

These five books, plus The Literary Art of Ayn Rand, retail for $132 and were donated by The Objectivist Store. I just put them up on the web, and am hoping that the BCC can get at least $65 for them. What a bargain! You KNOW you need some extra (and beautiful, and cheap) Rand books lying around in case someone you love needs a gift, right?

In hardcover, we have:

Atlas Shrugged
The Fountainhead
and
We the Living

In softcover, we have:

Capitalism, the Unknown Ideal
Philosophy, Who Needs It?
and
The Literary Art of Ayn Rand

Here is the link to see how much is being bid currently for these books. Right now, the starting bid is only $25.

I'm advertising them on KidsOutAndAbout.com, as I am with all of the other auctions, partly as my little personal means of raising visibility among thousands of readers. It will be interesting to see whether people go for them. But I'm kind of hoping that they will go to someone for whom it actually means something.

Ella finished her multiplication tables!

Imagine waking peacefully in the morning, and opening your eyes lazily.

There is a cute little girl not six inches away from your face, who has clearly been waiting.

"I finished the multiplication table this morning, Daddy," she said.

That was the first several seconds of David's morning.

"Test me, Mom," Ella insisted early this morning. So I gave her the test, and she got every thing right. Still made some backwards 3's and 5's, but who cares.

We're off to Toys-Backwards-R-Us a little later today, a family tradition. When the child finishes the multiplication tables, she gets to pick (pretty much) anything she wants as a prize. I hope it isn't some plastic crap. Madison chose a lovely big stuffed horse when she finished her multiplication tables in December 06.

Kitty in a Package

One of my girls' favorite bedtime games for the last 4-5 years has been "Kitty in a Package." I don't remember who invented it, probably Madison.

"I'm going to be a kitty in a package!" one of them will call down the stairs as they're running up to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas. "We'll tell you when we're ready."

Mostly, these days, it's Ella who is the kitty in the package. (Or the bunny. Or the puppy. But mostly the kitty.) Madison wraps her up snugly in blankets, head and all, in a big lump on my bed, and turns out the lights. I walk in, and turn on the lights. What follows afterward is always exactly the same:

"Oh! Wow! Do you see that on my bed? What do you suppose it is? Why...it's a package! An awfully lumpy package, here. Hmmmm...(poke poke) what could it be? Oh, gee, look, here's a label! Oh, it's for ME! What do you think it is? Who could have sent it? I guess there's nothing to do but open it... Oh, my goodness, look! It's a beautiful little kitty! Oh, don't be scared, little kitty! I'm your new owner! Come here, right into my arms...Oh, look, she likes me! She's purring! She's nuzzling me! Do you want something, kitty? Would you like...would you like some milk? I just happen to have a mug here...you would? She likes it! "

I'm going to keep you and take care of you forever and ever. I'm such a lucky owner."

I'm really going to miss Kitty in a Package when they get older. No sign of them wanting to quit it, thank goodness, even though Madison is 9 1/2. I'm enjoying it while I can.

"Crazy Eights" karate multiplication

Ella is ALMOST done with the multiplication tables. She's still missing 6 x 4, 4 x 8, 9 x 4, 9 x 5, 9 x 6, 9 x 7, and 9 x 9. Yay! Almost there. We haven't really focused on the 9's yet, although she knows several tricks to derive the 9's on the fly, so she figures out the 9's when she needs to, but doesn't have them memorized yet.

For some reason, the eight times tables were particularly hard for her. She is a very touchy-feely learner, and so I suggested that she find a way to use karate to learn it.

Last week, she devised a kata that takes her through each element of the eight times tables. Wow, did that work! She learned the whole group in about 20 minutes and will never forget them again. She says the answer as she's doing each move.

8 x 1 : Figure eight (with imaginary nunchucks)
8 x 2: crescent kick
8 x 3: jump kick
8 x 4: back
8 x 5: uppercut
8 x 6: scoop block
8 x 7: reverse punch
8 x 8: front kick and spearhand
8 x 9: four kicks: front, back, side, side
8 x 10: bow

Isn't that fun?

Why would I blog about cookies?

I know, it seems a little unusual, to be blogging about cookies. But, frankly, I've been getting anxious and depressed about the state of the economy. I can't believe that my worries over the economy have now trumped my worries over defense, but there it is. I now realize it may have been a poor decision for my psychological health to start home delivery of the Wall Street Journal back up again last week. Can it really be true that we've got to parry Keynesian arguments again, for goodness' sake? And socialized freakin' medicine? And when it all starts really to collapse, they're really going to do it, aren't they, they're really going to print paper money. It makes me want to spend NOW on home improvements at a time when my dollar is still worth something. It makes me want to plow under my yard and make it a garden. And buy a wood-burning stove. And store drinkable water.

Anyway, working on something concrete -- like creative and delicious ways to raise funds for the girls' chorus in a way that everyone wins -- helps take my mind off it all. I also scrubbed the bathroom and reorganized the schoolroom this weekend, because although I couldn't manage brainy stuff what with how I've been feeling, I had to get *something* accomplished.

Back to more fun stuff tomorrow, I promise.

Cookies. Really, really good cookies

One of my clients is the Carolina Cookie company. They sell cookies through the mail, as you might guess, given my real job.

The owner, Gary, is the nicest guy in the world, and he owes me big because I found a way to extract data that saved him hours and days of headache with the North Carolina Dept of Revenue, who decided to audit him.

It's also That Time of Year again when I'm in the midst of getting donations for the Bach Children's Chorus silent auction. And, this year, I convinced the BCC that they should put the auction online, gradually, instead of cramming all of the items into one space for the Gala, for people to bid on one night only. This way, we spread it out throughout the community (and beyond, for the things that are THINGS rather than being Rochester-specific) rather than pumping only the people who attend the Gala for that much more cash. So, we're now using MissionFish, the arm of eBay that's for nonprofits.

That's a long way of saying that I convinced my North Carolina guy to donate a YEAR'S WORTH of Carolina Cookies -- his Cookie of the Month club, for 12 months. He was happy to. These are really fantastic cookies, and we just put up the auction yesterday, and NO ONE has bid on it yet. It's worth over $200, and makes a great gift. In case anyone is hankering for cookies once per month for a year, or wants to impress someone for not much money, I thought I would make the few of you who read this blog aware of it. You can click here to read more about it, and bid.

The Frontier Team web site

Hi, folks. I'm taking a big leap here and posting a link to my new web site,

The-Frontier-Team.com

I created this web site in the last several weeks, from an idea I got while attending the Society of Children's Writers and Illustrators conference. As I practically think in HTML, it made sense to create a web site to sell the book series to a publisher or agent. This is unusual, I haven't seen any other sites like this, so I hope it gets some attention.

I won't say anything here about the series, I'll just let the site tell it to those of you curious enough to give your comments, about either the site or the book series. The site needs to be simple, navigable, and tell you exactly what you need to know if you were someone looking to take on the author of the next hot series for 8-to-12-year-olds.

I found a fabulous illustrator to draw my 10 kids and their cabin; she sent me the rest of the drawings today, and of course I put them right up. See what you think!

Criticism is VERY welcome. I know you'll be nice.

Deep breath and I'm hitting the Publish button.

Update: Does anyone see any font size issues? The quotes from the book are Times New Roman, everything else should be Arial. I can't tell any font size problems here on my computer, but David swears he saw differences between the pages from work. Thanks.

Madison's new Japanese room

Amid all of the busy-ness this past week was one thing I really wanted to take care of immediately: The previous weekend, David(!) had helped the girls undertake a complete and thorough cleaning of their rooms. Part of what that meant for Madison's room was to move her bunk bed to a different position. Madison has an extremely small room, with two built-out ineffective narrow closets surrounding a window on the short wall. Someday, we hope to bash out those closets, and reconvert what *used* to be a closet for that room but is now a sauna which we never use, attached to the bathroom, back into a good-sized closet. But for now, we're stuck with the closets.

All week, Madison has been absolutely scrupulous about keeping that room spotless. And, she wanted it to be a Japanese-themed room. So, on Friday, we went to Jo-Ann Fabrics, she picked out some gorgeous bright-red-with-gold silky fabric (on sale for $7/yard), and some very classy brass curtain rods, and I made her curtains. Interestingly, she decided that instead of two curtains per window, she wanted just one, and she wanted it to be flat, spread out across, like a shade ("more Japanese-y") rather than bunched up and drawn to the side. Honestly, it looks great.

And then on Saturday morning, for a surprise I went back to Jo-Ann and bought these two beautiful red decorative gauze lanterns (no lights in them) to hang between the windows. And, the piece de resistance, I got one of those little boxy shade lights and a silk red orchid plant for her nightstand.

I have promised to paint a Japanese pagoda at some point for the wall, but that's going to have to wait a while. But I did want to get that room a little transformed, so that was part of my burst of activity Friday and Saturday.

Presenting: Madison's Japanese Room:

Is tonight "restaurant night"?

For about the last four months, Ella every night asks me if "tonight we can have a restaurant." By this, she means that I am the chef, she sets the dining room table nicely, and writes out a menu for each customer (David and Madison). She dresses all in black, and takes a white long-sleeved tee shirt and ties it around her waist like an apron, tucking a pad into the "belt" of the "apron" and a pen behind her ear. I sit down at the table, and she takes our orders with that official, friendly, authoritative, and slightly detached air that waitresses have. Then, I race back into the kitchen and prepare drinks while Ella brings out all of the food that I have set out in order in the kitchen.

She names the restaurant something different each night, names like "The Pine Cone." Often, there is entertainment, too, usually a pianist (Madison) and dancing (Ella).

I love this age.

So busy

It's so true that everything takes longer than you think it's going to, especially when there is REALLY COOL work that you just can't help doing, and little-tiny-detail work that clients clamor for RIGHT NOW and will only take 10 minutes, and these darned cute little critters who really do need to be educated.

This week, I was busy, seriously busy, POWERHOUSE busy, but sometimes it seemed as though I was slogging through mud when I looked back at the end of the day and wonder where the hours went, and could it be true that I only got done 1/3 of what I had intended to do?

I will admit that it was kind of a Bad Educator Mommy week. The kids were essentially unschooled, I was that busy with client work, and a science project review for KidsOutAndAbout.com plus my typical work for that, and finishing up the web site so I can sell The Frontier Team to a publisher (the illustrator is supposed to get me the remaining 10 illustrations tomorrow, when she can scan them at work and email them to me, and I am THAT excited about it, I tell you). The girls watched a David Attenborough series, and The Price is Right every day. It was Break Week here for official schoolkids, so they went to a karate camp all day on Thursday. They read, they did computers, they listened to history, they practiced piano. And, all week we played a really great Go-Fish card game that I made up for Ella to get her past the last 12 problems that she has to learn to get her multiplication tables finished. I KNOW if I had pushed her, she could have finished them before Christmas.

Which brings me to what I've been feeling lately...

I KNOW if I just were more organized, and could focus exclusively on the girls' education during the morning rather than my mind being pulled in a hundred thou-must-accomplish-this-NOW directions, these lovely girls of mine would be learning at light speed. As it is, they're still ahead of the curve by a large margin, and are very, very happy kids. I comfort myself with this. And with the fact that we're all happier with this life we've chosen. And with the fact that I'm much happier creating things constantly, and making money, and serving on their Chorus board of directors (which is practically a part-time job) and working for a different career life (one which, I would love to think, will send the three Ross Women around the country on book tours), than I would be "just" home schooling. So, I know it all works out in the end, but I would still love to be more "super" than I am.

Take my quarterly reports. I like pushing my luck on quarterly reports, I resent how intense the reporting is for New York State, and so I don't do them until the district reminds me. That's my personal little push against authority. But, the district reminded me on Thursday afternoon. And, as easy as these are for me relative to others who can't write nearly as fast as I can, it was still something that was going to take me an hour and a half to do -- one quarterly report for each kid, for two quarters, November and February. So I didn't do them, and I didn't do them, and I finally finished them today and will email them to the district tomorrow.

I need to plan more curriculum, and I need to look at what the programmers have done on my site in India (they say it's ready), and I need to gather materials and enter things in Quickbooks so my accountant can do my taxes. I estimate that these projects will take me, respectively, 2, 3, and 6 hours. Do I have this time, unbroken in the way I need it to be? No. I will have to steal it, either from the girls' school, regular work, sleep, or time with David. And, for each of these projects, there is always the temptation to "just look at email" or other blogs, or local online news, or what have you.

I just looked over this post and it looks like one long complaint. I don't mean it to be. I'm actually very happy. Just very busy. And it sometimes feels as though I have bitten off more than I can chew.

Goodness, it's 7:20 and The Chef (moi) had better get some food on the table.

The Price is Right!

By "The Price Is Right" I am not being colloquial. I really do mean the TV show.

My kids, particularly Madison, have been very interested lately in the prices of things. So, today I thought to myself that it would be fun to watch The Price Is Right with them. And it would kind of count as school.

They LOVED it. They want to watch it every day.

In a way, Madison was over-involved. She wanted everyone to win, and was extraordinarily happy when they did, and quite upset when they didn't. I think she'll settle down after a few times, but it was kind of funny to watch her jumping around.

Actually, they also wanted "me" to win, because I have a much wider frame of reference for guessing prices than they do. They were happy when I guessed correctly.

Incidentally, Drew Carey is now the host. One of our guys! So we even had the benefit of a couple of subtle free-market jokes thrown in for kicks.

It's now on the "To be recorded" list. Yay Time Warner.

A web site, and an illustrator

One of the other insights I gained during my trip to NYC a few weeks ago to attend the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators conference is that I should make a web site in order to sell my Frontier Team book series to the publishers or agents. That is, this will not be the web site that is ultimately published for the series, which will be used by kids; this is for the publishing industry.

One of the things that I think will make me attractive to agents and publishers is the fact that I already have a compelling web presence and audience, and that I can augment this as I become published. I practically think in HTML anyway. A web presence is, to put it mildly, not an obstacle to me. So I immediately started making the site when I got home.

I realized immediately that even if I'll be selling only the text to a publisher, not any artwork (it isn't a picture book, anyway), my web site would require graphics. You simply can't stick a bunch of words on a web page and expect them to be read; I've learned that with KidsOutAndAbout.com.

So I needed some pictures.

A couple of weeks ago, at the monthly meeting of the Rochester Area Children's Writers & Illustrators, I made an announcement that I was looking for an illustrator. And, as you can tell from the drawing of Max at the top of this post, I've found one! For a few hundred dollars, Mary Warth, who is an art teacher at Brockport High School, will be supplying me with 10 charcoal illustrations of my kids, and one of their cabin.

Isn't Max awesome? When Mary sent him to me as a sample, I was beside myself with delight. Max, who is 13, was adopted from Guatemala, and this picture is just like my mental image of him.

Madison, despite knowing in some peripheral way that Max was adopted from Guatemala, put him with blond hair in her mind just like her good real-life friend Max, so she had to get used to it.

Perfect birthday day

David's birthday was yesterday. The last thing he needs is more stuff, so the girls and I planned a terrific day out yesterday for the whole family.

First, we drove 1 1/2 hours west and south to East Aurora, NY, home of the Roycroft Campus. We had a wonderful delicious, long brunch at the Roycroft Inn. After we ate, we skipped across the street to the Roycroft Campus, where as good luck would have it, they were having a terrific sale on past-few-years issues of arts & crafts home restoration magazines such as Style 1900, Arts & Crafts Homes and the Revival, and American Bungalow. I bought a bunch.

Then, we drove 1/2 hour up to Buffalo, to Frank Lloyd Wright's Darwin Martin House. The docent on the hour-long tour was knowledgeable and thorough, and even the girls understood everything and enjoyed themselves. This was easily the best-preserved Wright house tour that we've been on, including the Robie House and Taliesin.

Next, at about 3pm, we drove 4 minutes over to the Buffalo & Erie County Historical Society, a museum that is housed in the only permanent building built for the Pan American Exposition, a World's Fair held from May through October, 1901 in Buffalo. Very good, at least for what it was. They have, in their collection, the original Red Jacket Medal given to the Seneca orator Red Jacket by George Washington in 1792. But it wasn't out yesterday. I'm using this medal as the basis for Book #2 in my series for 8-12-year-olds that I'm writing, and I'll need to make a separate appointment with the curator in order to see it. That's okay, I need to talk with him anyway.

At the Historical Society, they had a model train set that included lots of historic buildings in and around the Buffalo area. One of those was the Eagle House, an 1827 Inn that is still a restaurant. We decided to go there for dinner, especially as it was practically on the way home. Immediately behind it, on Ellicott Creek, was the 1811 Williamsville Water Mill. We didn't get to go in the mill, but we had a terrific dinner in Eagle House.

We got home about 7:30 and all of us snuggled into our bed for an hour. David and I read the magazines, Madison read Harry Potter, and Ella read Calvin & Hobbes.

I don't think I could plan a better day. And, unusual for western New York in February, the weather was perfect: SUNNY! And about 30 degrees. Amazing.

After toasting Abe

At dinner, we toasted Abe Lincoln. Ella, critically examining a glass of red wine and a glass of grape juice side-by-side, asked me whether, if I didn't know which was which, I could tell the difference.

"In this case, no," I said.

"Because, after all," David said, looking at Ella. "What is wine made from?"

Without missing a beat, she replied, with a smile, "Jesus's blood."

We all high-fived her.

Abe, and heroes, and us

From this morning's KidsOutAndAbout.com newsletter, for which I just hit the "Send" button:

Many of us, myself included, regard Abraham Lincoln as one of our nation's greatest heroes. I have been reading a lot about him, lately, most recently Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals. We Americans love to amass legends about our historical figures, but from everything I have been able to read, Lincoln really was Honest Abe. His unflinching integrity, his amazing ability to keep always focused on the end goal while working through the challenges that got in his way (and there were many), and his dedication to achieving freedom for all Americans are what attract me most. He had confidence that he was doing what was right, to the best of his ability.

Reading about Lincoln helps me keep these qualities in mind as I go about life from day to day. I strive to be as mindful of the realities of our lives, as able to determine what is important. Lincoln knew that it was above all important to think, about everything, before acting, and to change one's mind when one comes to understand new facts. It is this quality that I try to instill in my children: the ability to think for themselves, and to be confident that this is the right thing to do.

...and more death

Life is full of ironies. Sometimes, you have to hunt for them. But not today. As if to put an exclamation point on last night's death-rumination festivities, this morning's Science Club field trip was to a

Pathologists's Lab!

We saw diseased and normal examples of lungs, hearts, digestive systems, kidneys, bones, and reproductive organs. Seeing all the bright yellow fat buildup around the typical person's intestines made me want to go to the gym and eat salad for the rest of my life. But I loved it. I love that kind of stuff. Anatomy is my thing. Feed me some tidbits about the inner workings of the human body (okay, I guess that metaphor was in bad taste [get it? bad taste]) and I'm happy for the rest of the day. E.g., you wouldn't believe the difference lung cancer feels like compared with normal lungs -- really hard versus floppy and squishy. And did you know that if you have three or four alcoholic drinks one night, your liver is yellow the next morning with all of its processing, but that fades pretty quickly? We explored the hows and whys of an enlarged heart, and saw the heart/lung system of an individual who'd had Down's Syndrome.

My kids were not so happy about the whole floppy-squishy aspect of the morning.

Ella was interested. Ella was minorly squeamish at the beginning, and wouldn't touch anything, but didn't actively turn her face away as a matter of principle. She stood close to the demonstration table, though she did kind of back off when the pathologist was gleefully flipping around the different chambers of the heart to show us the valves that had become blocked.

Madison pretty much sat in the back and averted her eyes--although not rudely--and only glanced up from time to time. She reported she really does like the theory of anatomy, but it belongs in books.

The death issue

Every kid cycles through despair at the idea of death, it seems. Madison first asked me, "Am I going to die?" when she was three years old, in the car, after she had first grasped that animals die. My answer, "Yes. When you're very, very old," took her breath away at the time. She had not been expecting that to be my answer.

I think she has cycled through an evening of death rumination about every two years since then, and last night was the 9-year-old version.

"I don't care if I die," she wailed (while my heart twisted). "I won't even know about it. I just don't want you to die."

Again, I reassured her that I wouldn't be dying until she herself was very old, a grandmother. It wouldn't be while she needed me to take care of her. It didn't help, last night. "If I'm 70 and you're 100 when you die," she sobbed, "I'm already about 1/8 of the way there. And 1/7 of the way until Dad dies." She cried and cried at the unfairness of it all. She cried herself to sleep, with me snuggled next to her.

I don't like the whole death thing, either. What I didn't say to Madison was that I'm going to do my very best that, unlike with my parents, she'll actually miss me when I'm gone. (I mean: I don't miss my parents, and, at least as far as I know, they're not even dead yet.) I did feel grateful that I'm not sending her to school, that the times when we're apart is not one wasted minute.

I'm not sure what triggered last night's episode. Could it be that we'd just been playing Clue by the fire? (All that murder, you know...last night it was Professor Plum in the Lounge with the lead pipe.) Could it have been that we took them to see the movie Hotel for Dogs and the two kids in it were orphans? Maybe a combination of the two? Or maybe it was just that 2-year point. I don't exactly know.

It's not fair to compare, but I'm still proud

On Friday, my daughters got up, had their piano lesson, did schoolwork, and went to karate class.

On Friday, my colleague Steve's son Dan got up and saved a man's life.

It was his first rescue as a New York City firefighter.

I'm glad there are people in the world like Dan, who make being a hero their profession.

And it reminds me that it's my job as a parent to raise children who, if the time called for it, would rise to the occasion to be a hero if necessary.

Artwork in the first observation

Notice how Henri Sorensen, for Robert Frost's Poetry for Young People, paints almost exactly the same scene as Betsey Lewin does in Doreen Cronin's Click Clack Moo. Both use watercolors, but to VERY different effect!

First observation

I was at the Society of Children's Writers and Illustrators annual conference in NYC this past weekend, and when I tell you I haven't had a real moment to come up for air since then, due both to catching up on "real work" and starting the writing/publicizing/selling work I was energized to do by the conference, I am not kidding. I also slept very little during the weekend (head cold plus unfamiliar bed plus all the ideas running around in my head) so I have been doing my best to catch up with about 9 hours per night the last few nights.

I have a lot to say about the ideas from the conference.

The first one is, I think, the most profound one for me, and it has nothing to do with my own writing or the selling of my series. I realized something about my own didactic style with my kids, a place where I have been remiss:

I have been rushing them out of picture books. To their detriment.

As someone who is profoundly interested in my kids being conceptual and using their imaginations, as someone who is not particularly visual, as someone who adores the places a "real book" can take her...I have viewed my children's emergence from picture books toward "real books" with pleasure and triumph.

You know what? That was pretty dumb.

For one of the breakout sessions at the conference, I mistakenly got placed in an illustrator's seminar instead of a writer's seminar. Not wanting to make things difficult for the organizers (having been the right-hand man at conferences myself), I went to that seminar instead of trying to switch. What a fortunate mistake! I got to see up-close-and-personal the life of an art director making decisions about how to match the text of an author with the art of an illustrator in her portfolio. And I saw how truly, deeply, these people care about art, about having text come to life through art, about how the art is not somehow a second-class citizen beside the words. I realized how quickly I have turned the pages in my kids' picture books: Just as soon as I stopped reading the text, I flipped the page. Did I ever give them time really to absorb the pictures? Did I ever really absorb the pictures? No, to both questions. Often, Ella would point out some visual detail of a book that I had read dozens of times, and it would startle me.

So, this week, it's picture book week here at Mariposario. Today and tomorrow, most regular lessons are suspended so that we can make our way through the art in our picture books and really see it. For me, it will be as if for the first time. I bet Ella will be able to tell me a lot.