Madison is 10.

In this morning's weekly e-newsletter to my KOA list, I took a rare moment to indulge myself in public thoughts about Madison's birthday:

Ten years ago today, in the wee hours of the morning, something magical happened. After 21 hours of labor, during most of which I was elated that the baby would be born on 9-9-99, Madison May Ross made her long longed-for entrance into the world the morning of September 10, and my life was forever changed. I had had all kinds of romantic visions of what childbirth would be like, how spiritually uplifting it would be, how I would always tell the baby that her birth day was the most wonderful day of my life. Well, of course, that was one of those bubbles that burst with the living of it--all of us parents have them, many times over, I've since learned. That's okay, though. The actual living of her life is much more important than the details of her birth.

These milestone ages--double digits!--provide a handy reason to pause and take stock, don't they? I've been doing that this week. One of the secrets of parenthood that I've learned in the living of it these past 10 years, but which people in the media rarely say because it sounds so boring and practical, is that the parenting issues I prepare for in advance are the things that tend to work out best. If I think about what's coming up in the girls' lives, gather information about it, read about it, talk about it with others I trust, and ponder its implications deeply, I am able to align what I do with reality, with my child's unique nature, with my principles firmly in mind. The things that blindside me don't work out so well. So, like many parents, I try to think hard about and plan for the things that are mostly under a parent's control. I think minimally about the potential disasters that wake us mothers in 2am cold sweats, and use those times to remind myself of how fortunate I am to have these precious people in my life. And, of course, I try every day to enjoy what there is to be enjoyed--that's partly what KidsOutAndAbout.com is about, isn't it?--to show my kids that our goal is to make life as happy, healthy, and productive as possible. So, happy 10th birthday, Madison, my love, my life.

I try not to get too preachy in my newsletter. Yes, I feel that I have a lot of answers to questions that most parents aren't even asking, but hitting people over the head with brainy or strongly-worded opinions will only alienate them. Instead, I want people just to feel that my ideas ARE their ideas...I don't want them to think that *I'm* smart, I want *them* to feel smart when they read what I have to say. But of course what I'm saying, when you distill it to its essence, is rather extreme. THINK, people. PLAN. Align your goals with REALITY. Don't fly along by the seat of your pants just hoping everything works out okay. THINK LIKE HELL. Children are not simply means to your ends. It's your responsibility to see that they grow up happy and healthy and productive. Have principles, and stick to them.

Anyway, on the 10th anniversary of Madison's birth, I took the opportunity to indulge myself a little. And I got a couple of nice notes in response.

At the end, I also added a few comments about 9/11. Last year I forgot to do so, and a reader wrote in wishing I had recognized it. So today I wrote:

As everyone knows, tomorrow is September 11, the eighth anniversary of the tragedies in New York, D.C., and Pennsylvania. May I take a moment to thank, publicly, all of the people whose work keeps us safe? Police, firefighters, EMTs, and those in the military -- and, also, their families, who every day recognize the risks that their courageous loved ones are facing. The significance of the events of September 11 was driven home to me much more profoundly because I had children. So when I look at my girls and take solace in their safety, I remember the people much braver than I who are willing to put their lives on the line to keep our country safe and free. They deserve my gratitude. They have it.

Harry Potter Party

The big Harry Potter party was a success! I think everyone had a good time, no problems with the kids, no one felt left out or anything, I think.

Here was the itinerary, heavily influenced by the Great Lynne, who sent me a bunch of ideas from *her* HP party for her own daughter:

Sorting hat: Hand out cards saying which house you were in. This was important for the Quidditch game later.

Diagon Alley, Olivander's.: Wand decorating; Decorate a little pot for Herbology later

The Care of Magical Creatures: Hagrid's baby dragon egg hunt in the back yard

The Magic Guy (a smart-ass magician who's quite popular around here)

Potions: Make yourself a drink by mixing a potion from seven different ingredients: Orange soda, root beer, ginger ale, 7-up, grape juice, apple juice, V8 Splash

Time Turner: Personalize magic calendar (cute thing I got at Oriental Trading Company...a little calendar that had that black coating you can scratch off, revealing the rainbow colors underneath

Herbology: Plant some herbs in your new pot (thanks to my friends Will and Sue who took charge of this event!)

Professor Trelawny: Fortune Telling with the Magic 8 Ball (We didn't get to this! And I even got a Magic 8 Ball, too! But we love the Magic 8 Ball!)

Quidditch, Madison style (essentially Capture the Flag with two golden snitches I made from tennis balls sprayed gold)

Charms: “Habeas felicitatem in die natale sua." ("May you have happiness on your birthday." Got my friend who is a Latin scholar to give it to me precisely, and spelled out phonetically, too.)

Cake

A few photos:

Everyday activism moment

I had a really proud Everyday Activism moment today:

This morning, I drew the names of the winners of the vacation getaway packages I got venues to donate to KidsOutAndAbout.com for my big newsletter membership drive. It resulted, in the month of August, in about 500 new readers, which I think is pretty good!

And this morning I got to spread joy by calling up the various winners and telling them what they won (overnights in various fun locations driveable from Rochester). How excited and happy people were! But with one caller, the joy was mine, too. She told me that she'd been thinking of writing ME an email, because thanks in large part to the inspiration my newsletter has been providing her for years in small ways, she decided this summer to pull their kids out of school and homeschool instead. "You showed me that it can be done," she said. "I'm really looking forward to it."

Wow.

It's not that I actually advocate for homeschooling in the newsletter; I don't hit people over the head with it at all, I never make snide remarks about public schooling or anything. I don't even say explicitly how much I love it. I just highlight some of the great homeschooling resources in our community, and make no secret about the fact that we do it.

It works, fellow homeschoolers. Just be your happy, confident, normal selves, obvious contributors to the community. People will want to be you. And their kids will benefit.

And so homeschooling moves away from the fringe and more into the mainstream.

P.S. I just got a lovely compliment from the marketing director of one of the organizations I've been working with to bring SteveSongs here to Rochester later this month. She wrote: "You are the best "ball of fire" for this community! Don't ever move away!" I just thought I'd share. Everyday activism, even on this tiny scale, helps to keep my spirits up when sometimes it seems like the wider society is going to hell.

Animals two ways

This afternoon, Madison heard me reading to David a passage from Temple Grandin's book Animals in Translation, which I've been finding quite fascinating in places.

Madison was very interested, and asked if she could read the book. I said sure, and handed it over. She spent a while with it, and has decided to go back and read it from the beginning.

Yeah. She'll be 10 in 2 weeks.

This same girl is also perfectly delighted to initiate a family snuggle on the bed and play "Mommy and Daddy Saint Bernard and Two Puppies" before we all settle in for the night.

I revel in my good fortune. Truly, the best of both worlds: a growing up girl who still loves a good snuggle and being nosed by the Mommy Dog.

Present perfect

For some reason, we got into a discussion at the dinner table about the verb "to eat" and its various permutations.

"I eat," I dictated. "I am eating. I ate. I have eaten. I had eaten."

I was finished (having, I now realize, forgotten the future tenses). But there was one more. Suddenly, from Ella:

"I am being eaten."

Milestones

I was saying on my Facebook status this morning that it somehow seems to me that the five milestones of child development are:

1) Is potty-trained.
2) Hops in the car with no extra gear re...quired, fastens own seat belt.
3) Can be sent to play "outside somewhere."
4) Enjoys two hours of violin and piano music without fidgeting.
5) Gets job and supports self.


Obviously, I was kind of kidding about #5, but #4 is a real milestone that I don't think everyone can achieve. Given that I love concerts, I'm fortunate to have had kids with the constitutions to be able to achieve it, and pretty early to boot. I know there are stories of musicians whose kids have been attending concerts since Day One and know how to behave at them and will just sit there and listen with rapt attention at the age of three, but I've always been pretty skeptical about these as well as jealous. I figure age 8 and 10 are about the right age for mine.

Last night, we were at a concert featuring a solo pianist playing Debussy and Tschaikovsky, a solo violinist playing something by an early-20th-century composer named Eugene Ysaye--who was fortunately an admirer of Beethoven rather than Stravinsky, so it was easy on the ears, and a quartet playing Mendelssohn.

It was, I think, the first concert where I could focus more on the music than on how the children were doing. We've done a lot of classical music stuff in the past year, mostly because of Madison's involvement with the Bach Children's Chorus. (At least one of them (Messiah) got so late that Audience Member Ella needed to go home at intermission.) But I can't think of anything that we went to just as a family to go hear some classical music. David and I have seen other performances on our own in the last 12 months, but I guess we've just figured we'd have a better time without them, not to mention the needless expense of buying tickets for bored kids. So last night was kind of a first.

When I see live music performed, I get very involved in the music. I usually focus on the cellists, given that I play cello (sort of). But I'm not great at focusing on more than one thing at a time, so I'm sure that part of the reason we haven't brought the kids to these things before is that I didn't want the distraction of having to focus on them at the same time as the music.

I said it was the first concert where I could focus MOSTLY on the music, I didn't say entirely. At least 40% of my attention, especially during the second half, was focused on making sure that Ella could lean against me comfortably as her energy started to ebb...after all, normally she'd be asleep at that time. I *really* didn't want her to squirm or fidget, because that makes for a bad experience for those sitting behind us. And I *really* wanted her experience of the concert to be positive, because then it makes the next one that much easier. So, I confess, enough of my brain was focused on the kids' experience that I couldn't really enjoy the Mendelssohn.

It's easy enough to say, "Get a grip, Deb, relax and don't worry about the kids, or how they behave, they're fine, they'll squirm a bit, it doesn't matter. Don't let it detract from your own enjoyment of the music." Sorry. I know this is the right way to do it, but I just. can't. do. it. I figure it's better to face that up front.

Next time it will be easier for me, I'm sure. And eventually they'll enjoy it so much that I can ignore them entirely. I hope.

The pianist soloist was a 12-year-old prodigy who is at Juilliard. Madison was equally impressed with his playing and with the fact that he started taking college classes when he was 5. 5! Her eyes were round. Age 5! She couldn't get over it.

--------------------------------

In other classical-music news, Ella has decided to join the Bach Children's Chorus. Madison joined when she was 8, but I just didn't think Ella was ready for it. You see, you have to have a passion for this kind of thing in order to carry yourself through the discipline and rigor of all of the practicing. Madison has always had it. She loves a challenge. She rises to the occasion. Ella just tends to go with the flow and enjoy life. She sang with the BCC on their trip to DC this past May, mostly because they needed more people and the repertoire was limited and she could do it. But I didn't push her to join, and she kept saying she'd probably do it next year when she's 9. I didn't mind at all, because the last thing I need for our home schooling day is to add in something else to make the kid do. I definitely didn't want to deal with whining, and have to shell out some bucks for the privilege, to boot.

But then, on Thursday morning, Ella surprised us all by saying she wanted to join. She wanted to go to Chorus Camp with Madison that day. She knew what she was getting into, she said, and she was ready.

Well, okay! Go for it, girl.

The director is going to make her go through the whole audition process in the next couple of weeks before official rehearsals start. Okay, I see the point, but now I have to get the child prepared for the audition. Readers of this blog will remember that I actually broke out in hives helping Madison get ready for that audition 2 years ago. That won't happen this time, though, because the director is going to accept Ella...Ella can sing and the chorus needs the extra bodies and the money...and she won't want to alienate me, either, even though I'm no longer president of the board of directors. So it will be a bit much to whip the child into shape on the Bach and Handel pieces she needs to know, but we'll do it.

And, I have to say, Ella was great, yesterday. She kept requesting over and over in the car to hear the piece she doesn't know, and was practicing and practicing. She's in tune great...she may be a natural soprano where Madison and I are altos, she hits the high A effortlessly...but she's a kind of whisper-singer, I can't hear her that well. I figure I'll let the director deal with volume, and just focus on getting her to know the stuff inside and out.

So, Ella is taking something really seriously, possibly for the first time. I don't think she'll even need a lecture about how once she starts this she needs to finish it, she can't weasel out in the middle or whine about it. She really knows that already, I think. I hope I'm right.

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And now for something entirely different...

We're going on a Bat Hike tonight! One of the girls' favorite naturalists is leading one. I tried to get in at the nature center on Wednesday, but the guy told me that it was closed, they were all full. But Liz is letting us in, telling us that "there is always room for the Ross family." I feel so honored.

Hurray for freedom of the press

It's still legal here in the U.S. My friend Reena posted this:

http://llph.typepad.com/life_liberty_the_pursuit_/2009/08/equality-for-all.html

Utterly American.

I may have taught her too much

Madison and Ella are playing with Ella's Littlest Pet Shop set.

They decided to have the little animals do a play, choreographed and everything.

Madison started making up a song that the mice should sing to introduce themselves.

I proposed that they just use the "Square Dancing Mice" song from SteveSongs. They like that song, and it seemed to be perfect for the purpose.

"Mom, Mom, we considered that," said Madison. "But there was a copyright dispute."

I had the perfect face for radio this morning

Yesterday, the media group that owns several radio stations in town asked me to become a regular on Friday mornings, on two of their most popular stations...starting TODAY.

Of course, I said yes. I like being on the radio. The exposure is priceless. And it went very, very well; I hadn't expected it, but for one of the stations (WARM 101.3), I basically blended in to become just part of the gang on the radio for an hour or so, from 7:40-8:40. I'm so happy that I now get to do this every week! And they even gave me my own parking spot in the garage...B-80. Whoa.

I will confess to a bordering-on-irrational love of successful P.R.

Oh, and speaking of successful P.R., here is a link to yesterday's News 10 NBC spot on KidsOutAndAbout.com. MSNBC even picked it up! It's been quite a week.

"Required"

We got an unofficial-looking white folded-over-and-taped printout today from our local school district's office, from a heretofore-unknown-to-me "Census" department.

Dear Resident:

For planning and reporting purposes, it is required

Oh-ho! Required, is it? By what? By whom?

that the District know about all children in our district from birth to age 18 and if the child receives special education, from birth to 21.

If there are no changes it is NOT necessary to return this form.

Now, there's know about, and KNOW about. What does it all mean? There is no reference to what, by law, they need to know.

What they do "know" on the form is this: The girls' names, birthdates, gender, ethnicity, grade in 2009-2010, and the school they attend. (Interestingly, the school that is listed for them is:

Private School (Home Schooled)

I kinda like that wording.

But here's the catch: They got their birthdays wrong. That's right, some careless clerk made a typo on each girls' birthday (though they got the birth YEAR right for each).

The question is: Do I notice this? And, if I do notice it, am I actually legally obligated at this time to try to correct for the District's typo on this document? (It's clearly a typo...they got the same, incorrect, birthday.) I have to say, from a security perspective, I'm not too interested in documents winging around through the district with all of my girls' identifying info on it. Might be kinda nice just to leave the birth date wrong. The girls' quarterly reports and IHIPs have their correct birthdays on them, so I figure I'm probably covered legally, as I tell them the correct birthdays six times each year.

If there is a child living in your home that [sic] you suspect has a handicapping condition [sic] and has not been previously identified by the school for this condition, please check this box.

Fat chance.

Questions? Call the Census Department at____

Seriously considering asking them to show me the law.

Who says you can't go home?

I've been traveling with the girls for the past week, that's why I haven't blogged for a while. It was a hectic trip, but also the kind of trip where every night I looked around and thought how nice it was to be there, wherever "there" was that evening.

I brought the girls out to New Jersey first for a few days of fun with the sane branch of my family, then dropped them off at my friend Tatiana's in PA while I went up to visit/take care of my friend Anne who lives in New York's Hudson Valley and is about to have Baby #4.

During the course of the trip, I did a lot of criss-cross driving through New Jersey, the state of my birth and upbringing. I left NJ about 15 years ago, and since then have mostly felt aversion at the idea of going back, even for visits or for business. Rochester has been home in a way that NJ never was, never could be. I felt that the state had ground me down, not least because it is obscenely expensive to live in, the people as a whole are not particularly friendly or welcoming, and you spend much of what could be productive time sitting in traffic that sucks the life out of you. And though working in New York City for 4 years in my early 20s was a great experience, it too was intimidating. It was never *my* city. Leaving was the right thing to do.

But this week, there I was, age 40, driving through the Garden State by myself with the radio on.

Today's radio stations play LOTS of 80s music, and the New York City area is no exception. It was the music as much as the setting that plunged me right back into a vivid experience of what it was like to be Adolescent Deb. I heard Bon Jovi on the radio, and I remembered *exactly* what it was like to be 14, how I felt about the adults and kids I knew, what my take on the world was like then. The struggle to figure out what was the right thing to do, without guidance. The struggle to try to get through life and school without dissolving.

As I've said before on this blog, I was very different sort of person then. But now, I have an adult's understanding of what it all meant. And I'm old enough now that while I was absorbed in these memories this past week, I found that, remarkably, I could be both people simultaneously.

When I was a teenager and trying to figure everything out, I used to imagine myself older--35!--and life-toughened, going back in time to advise and comfort Teenage Deb. "What would I do if I were really, really wise? I used to ask myself. "I'll KNOW how to manage this in 20 years, but maybe I can just IMAGINE it now." I tried to be both people simultaneously then, too, but I was limited to what a 15-year-old could know.

Of course, as principled adults do, I've dissected my childhood for 20 years to determine what was right about it and what was wrong, and to decide what I'd replicate with my own kids and what I'd replace. But when I was in NJ this week, I suddenly felt that I could understand this in living color, not just theoretically. The experience brought back details that I'd forgotten, especially nice details that I'd suppressed in an attempt to put it all behind me. I understood, viscerally, the absolute necessity to a healthy later emotional life of not subjecting kids to too many things they have to endure; otherwise, ALL of the memories are clouded, even the good ones. In other words, "Well, at least it builds character" is pretty much bullshit.

This time, driving through New Jersey and New York City, it hit me that I was looking at it all with fresh eyes. In the intervening years, without realizing it, I'd somehow conquered New Jersey and New York. Really. It wasn't just that I drove into the city, which I'd done lots of times before when I was working there, but that I was doing it almost on a whim, to get a hair cut, and managing the traffic, tolls, and parking rates--not to mention what it costs for a Lexington Avenue trim--without blinking. The Big Apple had become No Big Deal.

When I was 23, I'd looked at that magnificent skyline from my bathroom window in Weehawken somewhat wistfully. The City meant hopes, dreams, possibilities, mystery. It was also edgy, and tough, and scary, and somehow inaccessible even though I was there every day. But this past Tuesday, as I was rounding the curve into the Lincoln Tunnel, I saw it differently. I felt sad, as I always do, seeing the gap where the Twin Towers should be. But I also saw the skyline prosaically. It was a place where I'd lived, and worked, and developed, and succeeded, and left. The 15 years from age 10 through age 25, without fanfare, clicked into a new place for me. New Jersey is now much more simply the place where I made the best of a bad situation than the scene of a tragic movie.

And how about those Bon Jovi songs that set these thoughts in motion? It was a "Two-Fer Tuesday" block of Bon Jovi: First, "Livin' on a Prayer" from 1986, and then "Who Says You Can't Go Home?" from 2005.

Almost poetic.

Something else you can get if you ask

Ella has dance camp on Tuesday mornings this summer. Somehow, it became a ritual to take her to the nearby McDonald's afterward on the way home. Not a healthful ritual, obviously. But a pleasurable one.

Two weeks ago, Ella got a Happy Meal with a Teeny Beany Baby. A sheep. You get the little stuffed animal, and then you can go online and create a persona for it, earn points during games so you can buy it things, etc. She was entranced with this sheep. She made a terrific online pink bedroom room with a bunk bed for Fluffy at Ty.com.

Well, last week, after dance camp, she wanted to try for another Teeny Beany Baby. She wanted a sheep to go with Fluffy. So she asked, "Do you just have to take what McDonald's gives you?" I said we could go inside and ask them rather than go through drive-through.

So we got up to the front counter, and I asked the young woman taking our order, "Um, is there any choice of Teeny Beany Babies, by any chance?"

"Well..." she said, rummaging through her supply of bags. "I got the skunk, I got two Grimaces, I got a Ronald, I got the sheep..."

"The SHEEP!" Ella and I both exclaimed excitedly at the same time. The young lady jumped a foot in the air and started laughing. Madison, of course, was embarrassed.

I felt, well, rather sheepish.

But Ella, Fluffy, and Puffy are very happy together.

You never know what you can get if you ask.

What you get if you ask

I was a very shy, geeky, introverted kid. Yes, really. People look skeptical when I tell them this, but it's true. I was never taught about how to BE around people; no one ever verbalized skills such as: "Stand up straight, look someone in the eye, and smile as you shake their hand confidently." I tended to fold in on myself. But I changed all that very deliberately when I was about 18, and grew into a style that I'm comfortable with.

One thing I never knew as a kid, because I was never taught to talk to people, is what you can get if you just ask. Or, more precisely, what you can get if you cheerfully offer "value for value." It's an aspect of the beauty of capitalism, only without cash.

Now, I'm not talking about asking for handouts, for people to be generous with me out of the kindness of their heart because I need something that they have. No, I'm really talking about how it's important to connect with people who have something I can use, and that their giving it to me actually benefits them.

Of course, to get stuff, you have to give stuff.

In my case, what I can offer is visibility and great public relations through my web site. This week, my project was to get hotels and attractions to give me free packages to give away to KidsOutAndAbout.com readers as part of a big campaign I'm doing to get more subscribers to my Thursday morning e-newsletter. So far, in just three days of casual work on this, I have FIVE great packages donated for overnight vacations to various places within driving distance of Rochester. All I had to do was connect with managers personally, explain easily what I can give them (lots of visibility to exactly the market they're looking to attract) and ask for them to donate. And they did, with pleasure.

Similarly, going on the radio gives my web site a lot of exposure whenever I do it. So I asked my main radio personality contact, Marti Casper of 93.3, if she'd like me on next week. (I get visibility, they get a cheerful, articulate, I-love-Rochester guest.) Not only did she say yes, but she told me that one of their sister stations was asking her to let me know the next time I'm on, so THEY could have me on too.
(Update: The media group that owns both radio stations has just asked if I would consider being on every Friday!)

The point (and why this is a really good lesson to teach to kids) is: None of this would happen if I didn't ASK, and ask again, all the while happily and in a non-pushy way offering something I know is valuable. Even though folks like the radio station know I exist and like having me on, they rarely initiate having me on, it's usually me telling them I'm available if they want me.

So what I want my kids to take away from this: The idea that "if you build it they will come" is pretty much a pie-in-the-sky platitude. Build it, absolutely. Make it great. And then promote it like heck, but make sure not to be a pain in someone else's neck while you do it. It's a delicate balance.

It's important to keep both parts of this concept in mind for Everyday Activism, too: To be successful at changing the world, you need to build something whose value is attractive to others, and you need to promote it happily and cheerfully rather than defensively or bitterly.

Silvia is probably a better homeschooling mom than I am

Silvia, a nice hs-ing mom I met when we lived in Charlottesville for a year-and-a-half a few years ago, is far more hip than I. She and her kids are raising scorpions.

I always say I'd go to the ends of the earth and back for my kids, but this is something I would never, ever do. Just, no.

No in an "I-can't-vaguely-imagine-doing-this-even-though-it's-so-darned-cool-in-theory" kind of way. No in a "despite-all-of-the-valuable-experience-I'm-robbing-my-kids-of" kind of way.

I console myself with the idea that it's good to know one's limits.

Sorry, girls.

Three more agents to reject me before I try again

Three agents I met at the conference in late May still have my manuscript. As of today, they have had it for eight weeks.

Eight.

Yes.

Apparently, this is par for the course in publishing. I almost prefer the prompt rejections. Publishing etiquette doesn't permit me even a teeny-weeny hey-I'm-still-out-here-and-you-have-my-manuscript-maybe-it-got-lost? email to the agent for another four weeks! It's like that part of life is on hold. A manuscript held hostage.

I'm going to get old waiting for this to get published.

No matter, I'm slammed this summer anyway, what with real clients requesting real work (that THEY want to see back to them WELL before eight DAYS has elapsed, thank you very much, none of this eight-week nonsense), and with the slam-one-technological-door-open-another-and-run-right-through-it quality that this summer has had as I work to expand KidsOutAndAbout.com outside of New York. So I haven't had that much time to write...

except I've done my best. I've even started another book. A snappier book. A hipper book. One that is less 1950's and more 2000's (to quote from one of my stack of Frontier Team rejections). One that could actually win awards. One whose topic will be actually controversial, even--probably--with my writing buddy.

But no worries, Frontier Team fans (all four of you!), I'm still working on Book Two. Max is gonna solve that mystery, yes he is. I just have to work out the details. And, you know, finish writing the thing. In my copious spare time. As my own personal comedy duo sings "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park" in the background.

(Hey, come to think of it, maybe that's not a bad whodunnit topic...)

The bodies of the mangled mourning doves litter the baseball diamond. Eager Little Leaguers arrive for practice, gloves in hand, but flee in tears at the carnage before them. Turkey vultures circle overhead, hoping for an opportunity to dart in and seize a corpse for an afternoon snack. The parents eye the scavengers warily as they herd their permanently scarred players back into the minivans. Is it a job for The Frontier Team?

No, no, it most definitely is not. I don't even write that way, for pity's sake.

I think I'd better go to bed.

The DS2

Madison and Ella have started a singing/dancing troupe which they are calling the "DS2" which stands for Dancing-Singing-2.

For the last three days, they have been rehearsing for about 45 minutes to an hours (seriously!) choreographing fun and funny routines to songs they know. We get a new routine each night. They dress in black and white, or all white, or all black, and wear black top hats.

The first day, the routine was to Tom Lehrer's "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park." Then Cole Porter's "They All Laughed." And last night they chose "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

They call themselves "Hope (Ella) and Joy (Madison), the D...S...2!" They are remarkably like Penn and Teller; Ella is silent (except when she's singing) and Madison does all the talking. And they even physically resemble Penn & Teller, what with Madison being much bigger and wearing glasses. (After we realized this, we showed them a Penn & Teller YouTube, a clean one: their appearance on The View in Las Vegas a few years ago. It will be so much fun when they're ready to see "Bullshit!" but it's just a bit too foul-mouthed right now.)

They both sing well, actually. And Ella dances well. As for Madison...well, at times Madison's klutziness is almost aggressive. But it works pretty well for the comedy effect.

The Ross Family "Nows"

Ella has been doing a lot of writing this summer; she writes in her journal nightly and continues to make lists of things. She loves "having a restaurant" for dinner -- she finds out what we're having, names the restaurant (last night it was "Verdura" -- Spanish for vegetables, because it happened to have no meat), and makes up a menu. Then she writes down everyone's order and delivers it in the kitchen to me, then brings out each person's dish and pours the wine.

Yesterday, Ella decided that she was going to produce a family newspaper. She interviewed each of us, and today we received the first edition of the "Ross Family Nows." She had actually intended to write "Ross Family News," but made a typo and decided that "Nows" was cuter, presumably because it implies an up-to-the-minute reporting style. It has a typical about-to-be-third-grader's unabashed phonetic spelling, too, sporting words such as "wrcing" and "spashlt" (specialty) and "math matishuon." Graphics feature prominently in the Word document, which she typed out and printed all herself.

Anvil legal question from Madison

Madison has been very interested in discussing legal questions lately, scoping out what aspects of life the law governs and what it doesn't.

This was just heard at the dinner table:

"So if Max and Henry were over at our house, and they were juggling anvils up in my bedroom...and one of the anvils crashed through the floor and came through the kitchen ceiling and fell onto the table..."

"Yes...?"

"Well, what would happen?"

New verse to Jingle Bells

Last night, several hours after Madison had gone to sleep, she appeared in the office where David and I were working. She looked awfully awake, but she wasn’t really awake.

“I think I’ve really accomplished a lot,” she mumbled, as I steered her toward the bathroom.

“What?” I asked.

“I’ve made a new verse,” she said. “To…” her forehead wrinkled. “I can’t think. Snowbells? No. That’s not right. To Jingle Bells.”

I figured she’d been dreaming about writing new verses to Jingle Bells. Okay, whatever. I was amused, but I didn’t ask her more because I wanted her to go back to sleep.

This morning, I asked her if she remembered what she said to me. “I think I told you about writing the alternate verse to Jingle Bells,” she said.

“Right! You were dreaming about writing verses to Jingle Bells?”

“No, I was doing it before I went to sleep. Here it is!” and she recited to me:

I was just adding yeast
To our great big Christmas feast
But when the very first guests arrived,
The cooking quickly ceased.
First came Auntie Pat
And then our Uncle Lou
And then our cousin Dan arrived
With his big sister Sue.

“Did you write that down?” I asked.

“Nope, I just remembered it,” she said. “I made up another half verse, but I kind of lost it.”

“Well, I’m going to write it down,” I said. “That’s going in the Book of Madison.”

Flute lessons

Madison started flute lessons Wednesday, at the Hochstein School of Music and Dance. She loves her teacher, and so do I. She says she wants to practice 21 times per week. I'm happy she's glad to practice, but I sure hope the 21 times is an exaggeration, especially this week, as her sole assignment is just to practice toodling so that she consistently gets a TOOT sound instead of a PWOOF sound. She had definitely improved by the end of yesterday.

I hope that being more conscious of her lips will help her with this mouth thing she's been doing lately. (Maybe she's been doing it all her life and I just only recently noticed. But I'm pretty sure not.) She's sucking her lower lip into her mouth and holding it there with her teeth, especially when she's concentrating on something else. Her lower lip and the area below it is getting chapped, which is a feat in the summertime. She looks like a beaver, and this is nudging up to 30%-40% of the times I look at her. Thirty seconds after I tell her to stop (all I have to do is stare at her and do the Beaver Look myself, and she releases her lip...she sees it really does look ridiculous), she's at it again as soon as her focus is elsewhere. It drives me a little nuts, because it looks so goofy, especially with those braces-are-in-my-future crooked front teeth.

So maybe the flute will help.

Rejection! But a "positive" one

From Random House:

I finally got a chance to sit down with The Frontier Team this weekend and really enjoyed the chapters you sent—the Jameses in particular! Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I just didn’t fall in love with the project, which is something I require from everything I acquire, and I’m going to have to pass on this one.

Best of luck finding the right home for this! Just keep sending it out and I’m sure you will.

Definitely the most encouraging rejection I've received yet.

Wyoming scenes I'd like to paint

I just may paint some of these. I am itching to paint. (On the other hand, I came back from my trip with a new sense of purpose about some projects, and I'm going to make headway on them before I give myself the luxury of painting time.)

Old Faithful with buffalo magically trotting in front of it at just the moment of eruption:


Thermals at Yellowstone:


A cool thermal up close:


South of Jackson, WY:

On the road into Jackson, WY:


The sun through the trees, early morning in Jackson, WY:


The Madison River in Yellowstone:


Looking at the Tetons:


Waterfall on Pine Creek Trail in southern Montana:

The best vacation ever

The trip out to Yellowstone was busy, fun- and friend-filled, and just about perfect. The girls recorded everything in their journals, I have 600 photos, and I'll be coming out with a series of articles about the trip with recommendations and everything. We had, miracle of miracles, no travel problems, and even the fact that the first and last days were filled with driving long distances didn't phase the kids. (Thank Zeus for DVD players.)

I have been trying to organize the photos and select a few representative ones from each section. These are some photos with me in them (I was the cameraman for 95% of the photos we took, though).






I am not in this one (hope that's obvious):

That's Ella holding Serena, Madison holding Tatiana (not to be confused with the real-life Tatiana who is with me in the picture above). The girls got the bears at Yellowstone. You might think it would be a bad idea to procure large stuffed animals on a big out-west driving trip. I did, too. But in this case, we were both wrong. Those girls love those bears beyond any other souvenir they've ever gotten.

Off! Happy Fourth of July!

We are off to the great wilds of the Rocky Mountains and Yellowstone -- if you could call "wilds" flying to Denver and meandering up to Wyoming and Montana and staying in some nice inns and seeing all of the Yellowstone attractions and the hyper-history that is Cody, WY. (There, e.g., we are staying in an inn run by the great-granddaughter of Buffalo Bill Cody.)

I took the time to set up my email and all the programs I'd need on Ella's mini laptop yesterday, which means I don't also have to lug around this "big" old laptop. Most of the places we're staying are extremely civilized, with free wifi, so I may well be in touch.

The girls are still going gangbusters on their journals, and seem to regard them as The Most Important Thing Not to Forget. Yay!

I never thought of "Deb" as rhyming with "Ebb"

I've had people link to my blog posts before, but rarely, if ever, have I been the subject of a rhyme. :-)

On confidence

A friend who lacks confidence told me that she wished I could give seminars on how to do it. Barring that, though, she asked for advice. Now, I'm no psychologist; I don't know how to go about advising grown adults about how to acquire confidence when they don't have much. But I could outline my principles for her. Here is what I told her; please feel free to chime in, folks, because you nice people have great ideas.

1) All human actions either sustain what is good in human life, or destroy it, to some degree. Always plan, and then act, on the side of creation rather than destruction. In other words, don't do bad stuff, ever. Appreciating that you don't do bad stuff gives you the backbone to live confidently rather than slinking away from the world.

2) Know a lot about some things--why and how to act decently toward others, and also facts about the world. That way, there's never any shame in NOT knowing the things you don't know, and you never have to be embarrassed about it. Keep creating things, and take pleasure in what you create.

3) Be calmly objective, rather than harsh with yourself. If after careful consideration, you think you might have done something wrong, rectify it. As soon as you realize you're wrong, you're right.

4) Be your own, and only, true judge (aside from the judge that is reality); realize that people who try to tear others down are morons whose opinion does not matter. If you grasp this fully, you won't take their rejection personally, and you may even recognize their rejection as a good thing (you WANT to be rejected by the bad people). On the other hand, it certainly does help to have a close friend with a nice dry shoulder at these times; it takes me a while to shake off nastiness aimed in my direction. Either people are right, and you HAVE made a mistake (in which case see #3), or THEY'RE mistaken or possibly even evil, and you haven't.

5) Be cheerful, as unshakably cheerful as you can be. This not only elevates your confidence, but it makes others happy to be around you, which also elevates your confidence.

Other advice? Comment, please!

Last day of school & summer journals

Today was our "last day of school" -- officially -- until September.

On the spur of the moment, it occurred to me to celebrate with the girls by bringing them to Staples so I could get them Summer Journals.

(Sneaky, aren't I?)

They were so darned happy with these new journals that I have to wonder why I never thought of doing this for the last several summers. Madison got a leather-bound one that has refillable insides, and Ella got one with adorable puppies on the cover.

Now, Madison has been crankier than cranky lately, and the girls have been squabbling like mad. I'm not sure why this is, except we've been burning the candle at both ends a little. Last night Madison had a dreadful meltdown when we let her stay up too late by accident. So as of this morning we're on a bit of sugar detox again (until our trip to Yellowstone which starts in 11 days) and a rigid to-bed-at-8pm-so-you-can-read-and-relax-for-45-minutes routine. They don't mind any of this. Au contraire. In fact, they even reminded *me* that they shouldn't have chocolate milk for a while.

I proposed that in addition to reading, they use the unwinding time to write in their Summer Journals about what they do each day. This was met with eagerness beyond my wildest expectations. I mean, sure, it's a nice thing, to relax and write in a journal, but their sheer delight at the prospect surprised me. As if somehow I didn't have ample writing implements and opportunities already strewn about the house.

We're also celebrating summer by going to Seabreeze tomorrow, and then Thursday afternoon I'll take them to see Night at the Museum Part 2 (despite the poor reviews) and then swimming in a friend's pool. And after that, for the rest of the summer...well, they'd better not tell me they're bored; I'll just cackle evilly and point at the various cabinets filled with science projects and puzzles and games, tell them that being temporarily bored builds character and creativity, and go back to my work. I'll be SWAMPED this summer.

Poetry memorization for Madison

Madison has been wanting a little intellectual challenge for a prize, just for fun. She loves memorizing poetry, so for every five poems she memorizes, she gets a little prize. We're starting with a poem that I actually memorized when I was a child, a really fun one. Even more fun was to look it up on the internet and realize that there are two extra verses that hadn't been in the book I used as a child. I also hadn't known who the author was, so now I'm able to say Thanks, Arthur Guiterman, whoever you are or were!

The Superstitious Ghost
By Arthur Guiterman

I’m such a quiet little ghost,
Demure and inoffensive.
The other spirits say I’m most
absurdly apprehensive.

Through all the merry hours of night,
I’m uniformly cheerful.
I love the dark; but in the light,
I own I’m rather fearful.

Each dawn I cower down in bed,
In every brightness seeing,
That weird uncanny form of dread—
An awful Human Being!

Of course I’m told they can’t exist,
That Nature would not let them;
But Willy Spook, the Humanist,
Declares that he has met them!

He says they do not glide like us,
But walk in eerie paces;
They’re solid, not diaphanous,
With arms! and legs!! and faces!!!

And some are beggars, some are kin
Some have and some are wanting,
They squander time in doing things,
Instead of simply haunting.

They talk of “art,” the horrid crew,
And things they call “ambitions.”
Oh, yes, I know as well as you
They’re only superstitions.

But should the dreadful day arrive
When, starting up, I see one,
I’m sure ’twill scare me quite alive;
And then—Oh, then I’ll be one!

Two Cool Mom awards in one weekend

I got the Cool Mom award this weekend for arranging for a tent on my patio for the party I gave yesterday for a friend and colleague. It was a good thing I did so, because it poured all day yesterday. I got special recognition for putting beautiful white Christmas lights up all around in it. Except of course I've raised the standard, and the Young Critters are ALWAYS going to want a tent now. And the lights.

(I didn't take a picture, I was too busy. Ah, well, can't remember EVERYTHING.)

I also got a Cool Mom award for going out in the rain in my dress (I did put on sneakers) during the party and successfully defending my Tetherball Master title, against two very tall young teenage boys in turn. They put up a great fight. I was exhausted after beating the first one, but didn't rest before taking on the second.

On the other hand, if I ever do that again, I will be sure to wear wrist guards. Teenage boys can hit that ball *hard*, and 40-year-old forearms apparently bruise readily. I am wearing the battle scars with pride, though I hope I don't have to wear them for *too* long. It took four whole days for my sunburn to stop hurting last week. What is it with this suddenly-older body? Maybe I should start taking some vitamin...although WHAT vitamin, I'd have no idea. Vitamin C?

The Underneath -- read it?

I'm wondering if any of my fellow writing or homeschooling mom friends has read The Underneath, by Kathi Appelt.

We're about 30% of the way into the audio book. I would never have patience for this book if we were reading it, and definitely neither would Madison -- too little plot, too much description, its lyrical-ness is extremely repetitive. I think the reader is good, has caught the rhythm of the bayou of East Texas.

But...it is extremely dark. I find it kind of compelling, but the girls are somewhat unnerved by it, especially my sensitive Madison.

Question: Is anyone willing to give me the ending in the comments? I'm not sure I should continue it with the girls. Opinions?

I don't ask questions, I just get the band-aids

Just now from Madison:

"OW! I just cut myself on my own toenail!"

Turns out the cut was on her *ring finger*. Go figure.

Happy birthday Adam Smith, Father of Modern Economics

Adam Smith was baptised on June 16, 1723 (and under the old system it was June 5), but we're celebrating him today, because, you know, why wouldn't you?

Adam Smith (baptised 16 June 1723 – 17 July 1790) was a Scottish moral philosopher and a pioneer of political economy. One of the key figures of the Scottish Enlightenment, Smith is the author of The Theory of Moral Sentiments and An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations. The latter, usually abbreviated as The Wealth of Nations, is considered his magnum opus and the first modern work of economics. Adam Smith is widely cited as the father of modern economics.

Madison will be happy at breakfast today when we do The Birthday; she's been obsessed with economics for the past two days. Anyone have any good book recommendations for a somewhat precocious 9-year-old? Thanks.


(Thanks to Greenewable blog.)

50 words New York Times readers don't know

Here is a list of the top 50 words that New York Times readers look up when they read them in the Times.

How cool is this! We're going to discuss them, one a day, at breakfast for the next 50 or so days.

Here are some that I didn't know...I might have a sense of them, but not enough to pound my fist and give a definition:

phlogiston
bonobo
Sisyphean
Atreus
apotheosis
hagiography
parlous
louche
shibboleths

Let's start with taxes

"Right now," Madison said in the car last night, "I want to start learning about everything that confuses me in the adult world. I just don't get how the adult world works, and I want to. I don't think I can finish learning this while I'm still 9 [she has 3 more months of being 9] but I think sometime when I'm 10. Let's start with TAXES. What are they, really, how are they collected, and what are they used for?"

And so we did, for the next hour.

"Defense, police, courts," she observed. "Boy, you guys sound just like the Founding Fathers." [Thanks, Scott Powell.]

She's reading in her spare time

I think the Puppy Place books, in combination with Barnes & Noble's summer reading program, have finally done it.

Yesterday, Ella started reading in her spare time, not for school. She was at it for an hour and a half or so.

A real marker in our lives.

She's doing it right now. She got up and started reading. Not playing with the computer, not watching television. Reading. For pleasure.

Bliss, however temporary

Inadvertently fell sleep last night in my bed with a girl snuggling in on each side after having read (again) the spring planting chapters of Farmer Boy. Woke at 12:30, still dressed, contact lenses still in and sticking painfully. Girls still there, small bodies flopped over me like puppies on a mommy dog. Went downstairs, worked for a couple of hours, and then came back up and saw they had filled in the gap where I was. Pried them apart gently, slid back in, and took a long, wonderful hour to get back to sleep. Tried simultaneously to revel in the experience (because I know they won't do this for too much longer) but not to dwell on how just fleeting it probably is.

Not sure how to avoid this

The girls have been squabbling an inordinate amount lately. It's really ramped up in the last month or so.

Partly, I think it's that Ella, who has historically been so easy-going, has stopped automatically giving in when Madison gets aggressive. And they're both so easy to take offense. The tiniest things get blown up.

I've had to separate them a LOT lately. Sometimes, I refuse to adjudicate, telling them only that I know that they've decided to escalate a simple discussion about what to do into a whining verbal altercation, and that I just won't allow that. It's incredibly unpleasant to listen to, and if they can't find some way politely to work it out then clearly they can't be around each other. I really, REALLY don't want them to get into this habit of communicating, so I recently came to the conclusion that it's my job to cut it off at the knees quickly, as hard as it may be to tear myself away from whatever I'm doing. I usually give them one chance to reformulate...if they can't do it, I separate them.

As I explained to them last night when my friend Patrick was over and they were going at it for no reason, it's really quite rude to subject a guest to it. I'm simply not going to allow them. They are able to see the reason in this, at least. They don't object when I separate them.

I was talking with Ella about it before she went to bed last night, because lately Madison has been reading a lot and Ella wants to play. Ella can get annoying at such times. I made what may have been a mistake by saying to Ella that when she's at the point at which she realizes reading is a marvelous adventure that she wants to do for pleasure, it will be a lot more peaceful around here because she'll understand, and want to read herself.

She burst into tears.

!?!

"Madison was SIX when she started reading books for pleasure," she sobbed. "And I'm EIGHT."

I was kind of at a loss there. I explained to her, as I have been before, that Madison was DRIVEN to read, she craved those stories and she ignored the words she didn't know, because she wanted to read the stories. And then gradually she knew all the words. At some point, Ella will want to read the stories too...Ella can read now, after all...and then she'll just do it. It kind of doesn't matter WHEN you decide to do it, I said to her.

"But what if that NEVER happens?" She was really upset.

"It will. Ella, the only reason I really have pushed you on this in school is because reading really IS such a pleasure, and the sooner you realize it, the earlier you'll be able to have the pleasure."

The thing is, and I don't know what to do about it, Ella really ISN'T driven by a passion to do, well, anything in particular. She rides along happily with whatever we're doing. But she never really pushes to learn something, accomplish something, do something, all on her own. She's gotten into the Puppy Place books, and I'm glad to indulge her in that, because I want her to have something ALL HER OWN.

It will happen when SHE decides it will happen. And I don't think she likes it being on her head. It's easier for her to think of it "happening" some day, rather than happening when she decides to put a little work in.

And I can't emphasize it too much, because then she'll feel bad that it's "her fault" for it not having happened. To be blunt, at this point, it IS "her fault," although I really don't think in those terms. And there's no need to make ELLA think in those terms, because then it will get in the way of this becoming the marvelous adventure that it really is.

I simply cannot decide whether making her read more would have good effects or bad effects. Sigh. It's all particular to the kid, and I'm amazed to find myself--the only person who would know best--in the position of not knowing what to do.

Maybe I've just got to take away the TV entirely. Not that she watches that much of it. But maybe she needs to be that much more bored.

I don't know.

Story of Stuff: YouTube Critique

The Story of Stuff has been all the rage, even among the homeschool set. Here is an analysis of the facts presented, which should make Madison feel better. (Thanks for the link from C.August on a comment on the 3 Ring Binder blog.)

First cavity for M

Madison and Ella had a cleaning at the dentist this morning. Madison had a very negative experience when Madison was 5 or so with my old dentist, who was pretty impatient with her. I moved them to the new dentist when we moved back to Rochester 2 years ago. The new dentist is specifically a pediatric dentist, and she's great.

But Madison, who remembered the first experience, always hated the whole trip to the dentist, thoroughly and completely. She has always explained it as a matter of the loss of control of something sticking in her mouth, coupled with a gag reflex. Both girls usually want me to bring their own toothpaste instead of using the ones at the dentists', and Madison has often requested just to bring her own toothbrush, too, instead of having the hygienists use theirs. This morning, though, I bundled them out the door without it, seemingly unintentionally, not mentioning it at all. And they were fine, absolutely fine, about the cleaning, even Madison.

But then at the end, the dentist told me that Madison had a cavity. Would I like them to do the X-ray and filling now, or wait and make another appointment? I put it to Madison and she told me she wanted it now. Good, I thought. Because there would be no time for her to investigate or ask too many questions in the interim, which might make her nervous. But also bad, because it really risked ruining her first Just-Like-Normal-Kids Dental Experience with the memory of the drill and filling.

Damn, damn, and blast, I thought to myself. It became one of those exercises in total parental self-control. I hated the idea that Madison might have inherited my proclivity toward cavities, and I myself loathe getting them filled. But I couldn't exhibit anything but cool normalcy about the whole thing, because that child's antennae are sensitive beyond belief when it comes to that. I succeeded. Good Mommy.

And, the whole filling turned out to be no big deal. The dentist didn't even need Novocaine. And it was on a baby tooth, which should fall out in 3 years or so. Whew. Escaped that one by...yes...the skin of my teeth.

BEA agent pitch update

Revised entire manuscript for 8 hours yesterday. Added exciting new plot device of embedded code letters into the clues.

Around midnight last night, sent out manuscript to the four agents who requested it at the conference last week.

As of 12pm today had already heard back from TWO of them, thanking me for sending it, saying that they're really looking forward to reading it.

One response was even from the big hifallutin agency that also represents Hollywood talent types. (I looked the agent up and saw her pedigree last night, which convinced me that her enthusiasm must have been a result of my overselling the action in my book...but I got a nice note back from her this morning, so who knows.)

Trying not to be premature but
YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY

The trip after the Pitch Slam

After I made my 3-minute pitches to prospective literary agents at the Pitch Slam at Book Expo America in New York City last week, we didn't come home. We made our way down to Washington, DC. Madison and Ella sang in the Bach Children's Chorus at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site there, with baritone Derrick Smith.



The girls are smack in the middle, Ella on the lower level and Madison in the middle row:



And then the FDNHS had a wonderful Frederick Douglass actor do a fabulous presentation for us, including some of Douglass's speeches:



Sunday, they sang at Gettysburg, very near the spot where Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address. They sang the Gettysburg Address, actually; it was the children's chorus part of David Diamond's On Sacred Ground work for adult and children's chorus.



And then we stayed at Gettysburg with our friends and took an extra day really to "do" it.

Okay, this is more like it

I pitched my book to seven agents today at the Book Expo America / Writer's Digest Pitch Slam, and came away with six thumbs-ups. Two invitations to query, two requests for the first three chapters, and two requests for the full manuscript!

The one who refused it said that she thought it had "commercial legs," but it just wasn't her kind of thing.

One of the requests for the full manuscript was accompanied by the loveliest of compliments: "I would ask you for an exclusive read, but I just know there are other agents who are going to request the manuscript today, so that wouldn't be fair. Just get it to me soon, I love it!"

AAHHHHHHHHH.

Sleepover

Madison and Ella are at a sleepover that their babysitter (a 25-year-old young mathematician whom David had taught, who also loves kids) is holding in her apartment for the five girls for whom she babysits.

The last time the girls had slept over at a friend's house, about two years ago, it was kind of a disaster. So this was the perfect occasion to launch them into nice sleepover experiences. They were looking forward to it, and they always had the option of calling me in the middle of the night to pick them up if there was a problem. We didn't get a call. I'll pick them up about 9 and we'll head over to our customary Memorial Day parade in Fairport.

I don't know why people always say things like, "Oh, so nice for you, getting the kids out of the house for a while." I mean, I don't want to argue, and I appreciate the intention, but we don't want the kids out of the house! We like them. We miss them. We want them around. I know it's a good thing for them to do, and I would never deny them the opportunity. But it's 6:45am, and I keep expecting Ella to come padding down the stairs and wrap herself up in my lap. She won't, she's at Hyeyon's. And it feels all wrong.

Think I'm dreading the Empty Nest Syndrome that will land on me starting in about 8 years? Yes indeedy. I try not to jump the gun on that. On the other hand, sometimes I feel as though I'm living in this wonderful open-air world of sunshine and flowers, but making my way slowly and inexorably toward a dark tunnel guarded by a monster. It makes me appreciate this time of life all the more. But still.

In this case, it really IS the process, not the product

For a nice little break in the home schooling routine yesterday, I decided that we should do something with the lily-of-the-valley plants that carpet our yard. I love lily-of-the-valley, and the girls are always looking for a flower craft. So I opened our nature crafts for kids book and found a method for making perfume from flowers.

Basically, you jam some fragrant petals in a bottle, and pour grain alcohol over them. Leave it for two weeks, then uncork and strain.

They didn't mention lily-of-the-valley as a good one, but it smells good, so I figured why not.

We went to Michael's. We bought some cute little bottles for $1 each.

We went to the liquor store to get grain alcohol. The problem: No one sells it.

I kind of couldn't believe it. I thought that when I was in college, people made punch and jello shots with grain alcohol. But when I asked one of the folks at one store how to get it, he said, "MAKE it. That's the only way." And we even got a little mini-dissertation from the next liquor store owner about why he won't sell it. (Basically, he doesn't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.) That guy said that we might be able to use 160-proof vodka, but he won't sell THAT, either, for the same reasons. But, he said, other people around here might sell 160-proof vodka, I'd have to call around.

So. No grain alcohol, and no energy to drive around town looking for 160-proof vodka that may or may not do the job.

The craft book said not to use rubbing alcohol, the scent is too disruptive.

So we looked in our own liquor cabinet. I found a small, clear bottle with words in Russian and only Russian. What could it be but vodka, right? And the Russians make it strong, right? So we crammed hundreds of lily-of-the-valley blossoms into a little bottle and poured the Russian stuff over it.

Before I corked it, I smelled it. It smelled vile.

Wonder what it will be like in 2 weeks. I'm betting not good.

But it's the process that counts. In this case, I bet we forget all about it until the end of the summer anyway. And then it will smell so bad that they'll remember the whole thing for the rest of their lives.

Laura Ingalls Wilder letters newly online

I found out that some letters from Laura's family members from the early 1860s are newly online at the Wisconsin Historical Society. I've paged through a few of them: Very interesting, especially the letters from the front lines of the Civil War from Laura's uncles.

http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/highlights/archives/2009/05/laura_ingalls_w.asp

HT to Melissa Wiley, author of the "Martha" books.

An international writing sensation!

Madison is getting a real kick out of the fact that her "Hiking with Kids" article on my KidsOutAndAbout.com web page is getting exposure from all over the world, and it's only been on the web for 20 days! We decided to figure out why that is, and we discovered that if you Google "hiking with kids" or "kids hiking tips," that article appears on the first page. Totally cool.

Starting the day with sunshine

The first thing Ella did this morning is that she came and sat right down in front of me and said, rather meditatively, "You know, I'm almost always happy to hug someone."

(She had someone in mind right then. :-) )

Cookin' right along

Madison has gotten into a cooking rhythm lately. She has always been very skittish about the stove (perhaps as a result of realizing that if one's body wacks into corners and walls with regularity, it's best to stay away from the stove). But lately, at the age of 9 1/2, she has started to cook, for real, from recipes, without me except for, you know, putting things on and off the big Stove Monster.

She is going about it recipe by recipe, trying to master each one, before moving on to the next one. She finds the recipe, reads it carefully, and goes about making the dish (usually dessert) s-l-o-w-l-y. The current rage is these peppermint patty candy things. Just at this moment she is melting chocolate in a double boiler to dip the mint candies in.

We did have a moment about 10 days ago when she was holding a hot metal bowl (using pot holders) and she held it out to Ella and said, "Here, Ella, will you do me a favor and hold this?" I saw, and in time, I shouted "NNNNOOOOOOOO!" She was startled, of course, and realized why I shouted. She has a very vivid imagination, so I could see it all over her face: The image of ten burned fingers had she actually given Ella the bowl. She was terribly, terribly upset. I didn't need to talk about it at all. I just told her what a good thing it was that this had happened, a PERFECT thing, because the lesson was totally learned without anything bad actually happening.

After a few minutes, she was able to get back on the horse, so to speak.

Anyway, a very funny thing that Madison has adopted while cooking is a smiling adamance about calling ounces "ozzes" because of its abbreviation. Also, she calls pounds "libs."

The Why and the Wherefore

My favorite baritone, Derrick Smith, came to my house yesterday. He's singing with the girls' chorus down in DC (at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site) and at Gettysburg in two weeks. The trip will be immeasurably better because he's singing with the chorus. Derrick will sing some songs on his own from his current project, a new Civil War Songs CD whose working title is The Army of the Free.

I've basically prodded Derrick into doing this CD after David suggested it last year because this year is Lincoln's Bicentennial. Derrick was very enthusiastic. He is, however, the kind of guy who has too much going and isn't a detail manager, so somehow I have slipped into the role of kick-in-the-pants checker-in with him to keep the project going. He's happy about this. And I'm happy about seeing the progress. He and I are going to do some research at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site when we're in DC; they have the hymnbook Douglass carried up with him from slavery in Maryland, and Derrick is going to choose one or two appropriate hymns to go on the CD.

He was here yesterday and sang some of the songs for me. (I love that I get these personal concerts.) There are a few songs I know, and a lot I don't, which makes it all the better.

The Why and the Wherefore
Run to Jesus (the hymn that inspired Frederick Douglass to leave slavery)
We are coming Father Abram
The Battle Cry of Freedom
Tenting on the Old Campground
Lorena
The Yellow Rose of Texas
Follow the Drinking Gourd
Steal Away
Aura Lea
Twenty Years Ago
Let My People Go
The Army of the Free

It should be a beautiful and unique CD.

More to the point, though: Derrick left me photocopies of some of the music. One of the songs, called The Why and the Wherefore, is exceedingly beautiful when it's played fairly slowly, and, it so happens, the piano accompaniment is exactly at the level I can play, if I stretch. And that's what I've been doing this morning (for my own enjoyment, obviously, not to accompany Derrick!). I took half an hour when I probably should have been working, and played piano instead. It was wonderful. (I wasn't wonderful, but the experience was lovely.) It was hard to tear myself away.

Like I need a new hobby.

I mentioned to the girls' chorus director that I was working with Derrick on this, and she asked if I am producing the CD. I'm not, I said, I'm just the cheerleader. But she did plant that idea in my mind. Maybe I will.

Again...like I need a new hobby. But I could file this one under my personal way of celebrating Lincoln's Bicentennial.

I can't decide

Not that I *have* to decide this, mind you. But I'm not sure which is harder to take: The impersonal, plain-vanilla, information-free rejection from the literary agent I queried this morning, or the impersonal, plain-vanilla, information-free rejection from the literary agent I queried 8 weeks ago.

Good thing I'm 40 and have, you know, decades of experience of other types of success under my belt, otherwise I might be getting a little down right about now.

Limericks for yesterday's celebration

Yesterday was National Limerick Day. John Enright wrote some.

Here are ours:

Madison's limerick:

Oh, Sally she hated her books:
They were all about little brooks.
The more Sally despised them,
The more her brother prized them,
So all of her brook books he took.

Ella's not-quite-limerick but still fun poem:

My puppy's in love with a guppy,
I don't know how it happened that way
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
I found out about it just today.
My puppy's in love with a guppy,
And that's all that I have to say.

Testing, testing

We both started and finished standardized testing today. I used the CAT--the California Achievement Test--for second and fourth grade. I thought it would be a lot more fuss than it actually was. The girls, even Ella, actually enjoyed themselves. (She read everything without fuss and usually finished even the language sections earlier than the allotted time. The test was quite a bit easier than the prep booklet. The math was laughably easy, Ella could have done all of Madison's except for the one long division problem.) I'll probably do this every year rather than write a year-end evaluation essay, even though in New York State we only are bound to do testing every other year starting in 4th grade.

I will send the tests and booklets back to Seton Home Study School Testing, and they'll give us a scorecard of sorts. Easy-peasy, and pretty cheap.

Internal support network

Somehow unbeknownst to me, it seems that my neurons are conspiring on a project to demonstrate to my conscious mind how great it is that I'm 40.

As I may have said somewhere in this blog before, a majority of the dreams I remember are nightmares set back in high school. Or, less often, college. Except for senior year of college (which was finally the experience I'd been longing for because by then I'd put myself together intellectually, jettisoned my deadbeat dad, and gathered around me a bunch of really good friends), you couldn't pay me to relive any of those years from 14-21. Or, come to think of it, 12-21. Or maybe even 10-21. Anyway, in these dreams I am Back Then and I must complete an interminable amount of work ahead before I'll be released.

Last night, I dreamed that I was back at Penn with my college freshman roommate, and we were squeezed into a tiny bedroom in a tiny apartment that had a big waste-of-space bathroom, with two other girls. I had to hang out with these people. We were walking down the street in West Philadelphia, which was if possible even less attractive than it was 20 years ago, when suddenly I came upon Madison walking toward me with a group of kids. She was 18 or so, and seemed happy to be there.

But...wait...my brain started screaming...that's...Madison!...how could the time have gone so fast? What? She's in college? That means I can't be in college, oh thank god... But she can't be an adult yet, she's my baby ....AAAAAGHHHHH!

And then the dream dissolved, as they do when one's rational mind takes over. I woke up, tremendously grateful to be right here, where I am, right now.

40. Perfect.

Kids Education Free E-Books from CurrClick

CurrClick, which sells e-books for homeschooling, has a special Mother's Day giveaway of four free downloadable e-books per day. Each day up until Thursday, go to this link:

http://www.currclick.com/cclick_mothersday.php?SRC=mothersday

It will show you the four free books for that day. Some are religious, but others are totally secular.

Inhibitions

One hard thing about homeschooling -- at least in my case -- is that in situations where schoolwork is frustrating, the child responds differently -- worse -- than she would in the classroom. At home, Ella feels free to break into tears when she's working on something that is difficult, that she can't understand in the first pass. At school or in public, she'd just suck it up, get going, and figure it out. But not here.

I'm never positive about exactly how to handle these situations, how much to jolly her into it. I mostly say, "Okay, I see you're frustrated. When you're ready, feel free to come to me with questions." (But sometimes, when I sense that she's just primed and ready to keep crying in a vaguely manipulative way, I do just tell her snappishly, "Get a grip, Ella.")

Beware...you never know what may be hidden with your flowers

My friend Tatiana sent me a beautiful box of flowers yesterday from ProFlowers.com. Each lovely purple sprig had its own individual watering case at the bottom. There was a beautiful light-green vase securely wrapped at the base so there was no chance of breakage. There was a little box of delicious chocolates, with a daisy bow around the box. And there was...

...a Bible tract.

That's right: a folded-up little treatise (written in cartoons, of all things) produced by LivingWaters.com, reminding me that there was still time for me to repent of my sins, accept Jesus Christ as my Personal Lord and Savior, and be forgiven so that I'm not sentenced by The Big Ghost in the Sky to burn forevermore deep in the bowels of the earth.

I thought it was pretty funny.

Tatiana did NOT think it was pretty funny. Tatiana is pissed.

I called up ProFlowers.com and asked them if it was standard practice to include these things with their flowers. No, it most certainly was NOT, the customer service rep said.

"The thing is," I said, "today is my 40th birthday. And while this isn't traumatizing or anything, pretty much the last thing I want to be reminded of is, you know, how little time I have left before I have to DIE."

She could understand that, she said. (She was a well-trained CSR.)

"It's just a good thing this isn't a 'get-well' bunch of flowers," I continued. "Imagine being in the hospital with some awful disease, and getting THIS."

She reacted with appropriate horror.

"So, I think you probably have some person working in your warehouse who needs to be stopped from doing this kind of thing," I said.

She agreed. "There's a chain of action that I can start here. I'm making a note in the file. What's your email address? You can call in a couple of days if you haven't heard anything."

I have a feeling Tatiana is going to call today and give them a rapid-fire Latina-accent-enhanced earful, too, just to drive in the point that something should be done.

Not that I'm usually the type of person who is out to get people fired, but I really think the person who did this needs to be canned, pronto.

Car irony

I always leave the every-two-year car inspection until the last minute, or over.

My inspection was due by the end of April, and I decided really to take the bull by the horns and get it done on April 29.

The car didn't pass, because the Check Engine light, which has been on without pause and without meaning since 2002, was lit as usual.

"Oh, don't fuss about that," I said. "It's been lit since 2002. It doesn't mean anything."

"Sorry, ma'am," said the Jiffy Lube people. "We're not allowed to pass it. You'll have to take it to your mechanic. Within 30 days we can re-inspect it for free and pass it if that light is off."

I grumbled to myself about a waste of time and $25. Because, of course, the mechanic is also an inspection station, it will just cost me more than the Jiffy Lube people, they're out of my way, and you have to make an appointment.

It turned out that the Jiffy Lube people had turned on these weird dashboard lights in the car, lights I never use. I didn't notice. So the next morning when I went to turn on the car, the battery was dead. I was pretty ticked off about the whole experience while David was jumping the car back to life.

But when I started driving, I noticed that something was different. The Check Engine light was OFF! For the first time in 7 years!

I high-tailed it back to the Jiffy Lube that afternoon, and they inspected it (for free, of course) and the car PASSED.

(When do Car Experience stories ever work out for the BEST?)

The latest parenting dilemma

What does one do when the go-with-the-flow YOUNGER sister is qualified to move up to the next level gymnastics class for next semester, but not the competitive older sister? They say I can hold Ella back with no problem, no one will really notice. I might do that. They both have a good time at gymnastics, but neither considers it fundamental to her happiness or anything. They could give it up easily. If Ella considered it the end-all and be-all of her existence, I'd have to let her go ahead. But as it is, I'm still not sure what to do.

The Puppy Place books

I love great kids literature.

But I can deal with it when my kids read kind of badly-written books -- especially in Ella's case.

I want her to WANT to read. I want it not to be a struggle.

I suggested that David get her a gift card to Barnes & Noble for her birthday this year, rather than buying her the books outright. A) Ella loves to shop and B) we stand a better chance of her wanting to read it if she buys the book.

I was right. Sunday, I took her to B&N and she got several of the new "Puppy Place" series of books. Oh, they are nothing books. But she loves them. She loves puppies, so that helps. She has been reading outside this morning, pretty happily.

(Oh, well...she just came in and asked, "Can I stop now? I'm on Chapter 8."

Sigh.

My answer was, "Sure, if you want to do handwriting." She fled back outside, book in hand.)

Start of a conversation you're not sure you want to have with your 9-year-old

"Hey, Mom! Lemme tell you why this book [holding up the 39 Clues book she started and finished today] succeeds while yours fails!"

Proud, proud, proud proud proud

Have I mentioned that I'm proud of my kids? Yes indeedy.

Following Madison's spontaneous assistance with a talk I gave last year at a MOPS club (Mothers of Preschoolers) in which we all realized that the child has some kind of future in public speaking, Madison said she'd like to do it again, as often as possible.

An opportunity came this year to talk with another MOPS group, and we did it this morning. This time, Madison was officially on the schedule, and we did a bit of preparation. She made up a list of 14 tips you should remember when taking little kids hiking, based on her years of experience. She had her own little section of the talk this morning. It was fabulous, and so well received (boy, was it well received, I got tons more compliments than I would have had it just been me talking) that I decided we'd make the list into an article on KidsOutAndAbout.com. So we just worked through the HTML and FTP'ed it up to the server.

And here it is:

Tips to Remember When Hiking with Kids

Her first byline! Her first copyright! My baby!

You know, I feel quite carried away, sometimes, with how much I love her.