5:45 a.m.
10:30 a.m.
10:31 a.m.
10:33 a.m.
11:22 a.m.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Saturday, In The Park(s) — with a LOT of costume changes
Emma in the Cave
This afternoon, Cody was reading the nap time story out loud to Cordelia, Emma, and I. In it, a little bear decides to go find his very own small cave and move in. Then this happened.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Hope … and Change
Today was a really odd day.
Cordelia was … nice. Like, really nice. All day. This is worth noting, because things have been a bit rough over the past few weeks, with each of them presenting their own challenges. To wit:
Let me backtrack a bit. Two weeks ago, after a second consecutive weekend of us all just hating and being exhausted with our lot, I decided to call …
A Family Meeting. Uh oh.
The funny thing is, the kids LOVE family meetings. At first, anyway. They each get a chance to talk about their feelings. It's a little like Festivus. And the rules are that no one can interrupt anyone else. Cordelia, in particular, enjoys this forum.
So anyway, I decided to be proactive, not reactive, and facilitate a strategic offsite (well, in the family room). It was time for a deep dive. We needed to foster dialogue. To drill down and identify our pain points. To do a little benchmarking. To allow for a little pushback. I was looking to get some low-hanging fruit. Score some quick wins. Define Last Family 2.0, since we are definitely IPM. We needed to be focusing not just on the process, but to be a little more results-driven. So we needed to examine our core competencies. Look for some linkages, shift some paradigms. Think outside the box. Identify our performance gaps. Leverage our strengths. Coalesce around a vision. Maximize our synergy. Create a family mission statement. And then write down our key takeaways so we could hold each other accountable.
What did we do? We whiteboarded.
It was … hilarious. And, good for everyone. We have a lot of problems, it turns out. But the kids came up with great solutions. We each chose two personal goals to work on, wrote them down, and we're trying hard to up our performance, because at this point we should all be on a PIP.
Cody's meanness to Cordelia is the biggest obstacle we have to overcome, followed closely by her backtalk (and whining). So today, I took things a step further. I told Cody that every time he is mean to her, he has to give me a quarter. We'll put it in the poor box. I'm trying to get them to remember that when we're kind to others, we're kind to the Lord; when we're cruel to each other, it hurts His heart (whatsoever you did unto the least brothers and sisters of these, you did unto Me, and all that). So if there's a little pain point — handing over money — it's a good reminder. But that we'll try to take our failures and turn them into something beautiful for another of the least among us.
Or something like that. Today alone, we're going to be making a huge difference to those in need.
Anyway, let me get back to Cordelia. Usually, she wakes up grouchily (like me), stumbles into our room, and goes straight for Daddy. She either ignores me or is outright hostile. No hugs, no kisses, no greeting. It's painful, but I deal with it. Anyway, this morning, she came in and crawled right into my lap. Then stayed there, cuddling me, for five minutes. Then, when I asked her to brush her teeth, did so without whining. Then let me brush her hair…without a tantrum. Then went and got dressed. It was taking awhile, so I asked if she needed help, and she shut the door and said, "WAIT! THIS IS A SURPRISE!" When I was allowed in, she had … cleaned her room. She even made her bed.
Then she ate breakfast, without a fuss. She worked on her writing. We baked brownies. When Emma had a tantrum, she took it upon herself to calm Emma down, and then read to her for awhile. She took a long nap. She was … delightful. Loving. Generous of heart. The best core of Cora was right there on the surface. For hours on end.
(Obviously, these are my daughters.)
This was all a little … unexpected. A little unsettling, even. Here's the exchange J and I had via text, as I waited at the dentist to get my teeth done:
JVL: It's Opposite Day here. Emma had a tantrum and Cordelia calmed her down all by herself and is now reading to her.
SLL: Wow. She must be planning to go nuclear soon.
JVL: She's going to take over some innocent country this weekend. It's the only explanation.
SLL: I heard that President Obama is mysteriously coming back from vacation for a couple of days, on your tax dollar, for reasons no one will disclose. Perhaps things are starting to come together…
JVL: Cora is being sent to the Middle East to deal with ISIS.
SLL: They'll cave.
JVL: ISIS is so f*%$d.
Anyway, toward evening, Cordelia got mouthy — for the first time all day, really. I suggested that the same should apply to her—each time she back talked, she should plunk a quarter in the poor box.
She shrugged and said, "Well, I don't care. I have a lot of money."
I hadn't packed for that.
But later, as I was tucking her in (as Cody was begrudgingly counting out his quarters) I told her how proud I was of her. That I could see the effort she was making to create peace and to be loving and respectful. She said — and this is how I know she's related to Cody and that things do have a way of getting through from us —"Well, I asked God for help. When we said our morning prayer!" (Each day, we say a prayer we made up: "Thank you, dear Lord, for this new day. Help me to be good in all I think, and do, and say. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Blessed Mother, too—please watch over my family, and keep me close to you.") So I said, "You sure did — you asked for help being good."
CML: And God answered me! I put a prayer in His heart. And then, he put goodness and kindness in MY heart!
SLL, through tears: He did. He put goodness and kindness in your heart the day you were born. Sometimes it's just hard to express it, but you did such a beautiful job today. And didn't it feel good?
CML: It did! I am going to do it all again tomorrow! I will just ASK for help being good, and then I will vacuum the WHOLE HOUSE, without being asked!
Hope, as we say, must always have the last word.
PS: I hope you people know how hard I work for these headlines. Hope and …CHANGE? Come on! : )
Cordelia was … nice. Like, really nice. All day. This is worth noting, because things have been a bit rough over the past few weeks, with each of them presenting their own challenges. To wit:
Let me backtrack a bit. Two weeks ago, after a second consecutive weekend of us all just hating and being exhausted with our lot, I decided to call …
A Family Meeting. Uh oh.
The funny thing is, the kids LOVE family meetings. At first, anyway. They each get a chance to talk about their feelings. It's a little like Festivus. And the rules are that no one can interrupt anyone else. Cordelia, in particular, enjoys this forum.
So anyway, I decided to be proactive, not reactive, and facilitate a strategic offsite (well, in the family room). It was time for a deep dive. We needed to foster dialogue. To drill down and identify our pain points. To do a little benchmarking. To allow for a little pushback. I was looking to get some low-hanging fruit. Score some quick wins. Define Last Family 2.0, since we are definitely IPM. We needed to be focusing not just on the process, but to be a little more results-driven. So we needed to examine our core competencies. Look for some linkages, shift some paradigms. Think outside the box. Identify our performance gaps. Leverage our strengths. Coalesce around a vision. Maximize our synergy. Create a family mission statement. And then write down our key takeaways so we could hold each other accountable.
What did we do? We whiteboarded.
It was … hilarious. And, good for everyone. We have a lot of problems, it turns out. But the kids came up with great solutions. We each chose two personal goals to work on, wrote them down, and we're trying hard to up our performance, because at this point we should all be on a PIP.
Cody's meanness to Cordelia is the biggest obstacle we have to overcome, followed closely by her backtalk (and whining). So today, I took things a step further. I told Cody that every time he is mean to her, he has to give me a quarter. We'll put it in the poor box. I'm trying to get them to remember that when we're kind to others, we're kind to the Lord; when we're cruel to each other, it hurts His heart (whatsoever you did unto the least brothers and sisters of these, you did unto Me, and all that). So if there's a little pain point — handing over money — it's a good reminder. But that we'll try to take our failures and turn them into something beautiful for another of the least among us.
Or something like that. Today alone, we're going to be making a huge difference to those in need.
Anyway, let me get back to Cordelia. Usually, she wakes up grouchily (like me), stumbles into our room, and goes straight for Daddy. She either ignores me or is outright hostile. No hugs, no kisses, no greeting. It's painful, but I deal with it. Anyway, this morning, she came in and crawled right into my lap. Then stayed there, cuddling me, for five minutes. Then, when I asked her to brush her teeth, did so without whining. Then let me brush her hair…without a tantrum. Then went and got dressed. It was taking awhile, so I asked if she needed help, and she shut the door and said, "WAIT! THIS IS A SURPRISE!" When I was allowed in, she had … cleaned her room. She even made her bed.
Then she ate breakfast, without a fuss. She worked on her writing. We baked brownies. When Emma had a tantrum, she took it upon herself to calm Emma down, and then read to her for awhile. She took a long nap. She was … delightful. Loving. Generous of heart. The best core of Cora was right there on the surface. For hours on end.
This was all a little … unexpected. A little unsettling, even. Here's the exchange J and I had via text, as I waited at the dentist to get my teeth done:
JVL: It's Opposite Day here. Emma had a tantrum and Cordelia calmed her down all by herself and is now reading to her.
SLL: Wow. She must be planning to go nuclear soon.
JVL: She's going to take over some innocent country this weekend. It's the only explanation.
SLL: I heard that President Obama is mysteriously coming back from vacation for a couple of days, on your tax dollar, for reasons no one will disclose. Perhaps things are starting to come together…
JVL: Cora is being sent to the Middle East to deal with ISIS.
SLL: They'll cave.
JVL: ISIS is so f*%$d.
She shrugged and said, "Well, I don't care. I have a lot of money."
I hadn't packed for that.
But later, as I was tucking her in (as Cody was begrudgingly counting out his quarters) I told her how proud I was of her. That I could see the effort she was making to create peace and to be loving and respectful. She said — and this is how I know she's related to Cody and that things do have a way of getting through from us —"Well, I asked God for help. When we said our morning prayer!" (Each day, we say a prayer we made up: "Thank you, dear Lord, for this new day. Help me to be good in all I think, and do, and say. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Blessed Mother, too—please watch over my family, and keep me close to you.") So I said, "You sure did — you asked for help being good."
CML: And God answered me! I put a prayer in His heart. And then, he put goodness and kindness in MY heart!
SLL, through tears: He did. He put goodness and kindness in your heart the day you were born. Sometimes it's just hard to express it, but you did such a beautiful job today. And didn't it feel good?
CML: It did! I am going to do it all again tomorrow! I will just ASK for help being good, and then I will vacuum the WHOLE HOUSE, without being asked!
Hope, as we say, must always have the last word.
PS: I hope you people know how hard I work for these headlines. Hope and …CHANGE? Come on! : )
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Inside, he's still our little boy . . .
So skateboarding is now a thing. Our neighbor, Hanna, let Cody borrow her skateboard and he's now enjoying cruising up and down the driveway. But only with the help of his sister, whose job is to wait for him, and then stop the skateboard for him so he doesn't go careening into danger. You would not believe how thrilled she was to be assigned this job. She's grateful for anytime he includes her. Even as a backstop:
Such a big guy, right? Next stop: BMX bikes and America Ninja Warrior.
But this morning, after everyone was up, I went upstairs to drop something off in his room and peaked up in Cody's bed. And here's how he had left it:
Such a big guy, right? Next stop: BMX bikes and America Ninja Warrior.
But this morning, after everyone was up, I went upstairs to drop something off in his room and peaked up in Cody's bed. And here's how he had left it:
Yup. When he woke up at 6:00 5:30 God-knows-when, he took the time to carefully arrange all of his small stuffies, before rousting himself out of bed.
I've never loved him more.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Fishing Hole
To go back a bit from Jonathan's post, Cody has, as usual, been experiencing some cognitive dissonance around the idea of animal rights. He finds the idea of hunting abhorrent, morally upsetting, and just inconceivable.
We've had to explain to him that he can't just go up to our neighbors (we do live in Virginia, after all) and tell them they should be imprisoned for hunting animals. And that, after all, Chik-fil-A comes from … well. His response is a bit tortured. As he told me yesterday, “I need to make you understand me. It’s not the people who eat the animals who are bad and should go to jail. It’s the people who kill the animals for food and are violent to them that need to get locked up!”
So I'm not sure how fishing isn't violent, but it sure is an obsession, thanks to a wonderful trip to New Jersey and an adventure on Rainbow Lake with Uncle Bob, during which they each caught two fish. Egads!
When Cody came home, he was determined to master his new sport. First order of business was to fashion a fishing pole. Which he did, in the creative way that children have when left to their own devices and told "No, I won't buy you a fishing pole." He took a plastic peg from the horseshoe set and made a fishing line out of those tiny Rainbow Loom rubber bands (of which we have 10,000, and which the occupants of our house 50 years hence will still be finding between the floorboards). I thought it was kind of ingenious.
We've had to explain to him that he can't just go up to our neighbors (we do live in Virginia, after all) and tell them they should be imprisoned for hunting animals. And that, after all, Chik-fil-A comes from … well. His response is a bit tortured. As he told me yesterday, “I need to make you understand me. It’s not the people who eat the animals who are bad and should go to jail. It’s the people who kill the animals for food and are violent to them that need to get locked up!”
So I'm not sure how fishing isn't violent, but it sure is an obsession, thanks to a wonderful trip to New Jersey and an adventure on Rainbow Lake with Uncle Bob, during which they each caught two fish. Egads!
When Cody came home, he was determined to master his new sport. First order of business was to fashion a fishing pole. Which he did, in the creative way that children have when left to their own devices and told "No, I won't buy you a fishing pole." He took a plastic peg from the horseshoe set and made a fishing line out of those tiny Rainbow Loom rubber bands (of which we have 10,000, and which the occupants of our house 50 years hence will still be finding between the floorboards). I thought it was kind of ingenious.
And he loved it, even though it didn't work. At all. We trekked to the lake and he "fished" while the girls and I ogled ducks and turtles and I tried to keep Emma from falling in the water. (I think actual fishing is predicated upon the idea of stillness and peacefulness, but whatever.)
Her Hairness X 2
Everywhere we go, I hear it, and it's true. My girls really do have incredible hair.
Here's Cordelia, refusing to let me take a picture of her getting her hair trimmed this week.
Father of the Year
This picture has nothing to do with anything, but it's Cody reading to the sister he loves. And Cordelia. It's funny to watch Emma when Cody reads to her. More often than not, she stares at him, instead of the books. Like she can't believe he's doing it.
Anyway, the story I'm about to tell has no pictures. Except in my mind.
Cody has been, since his holiday in Parsippany, obsessed with fishing. Shannon bought him a fishing pole. And on Saturday, she took him to the nearby lake--we've always called it the "Tippy Lake," because it has so many turtles; this will be important--to try his luck. While there, they met a nice boy named Andrew, who was also out angling. Shannon captured Cody's joy in finding a compatriot:
After two hours in the sun, Cody and Shannon came home for the bathroom and to hydrate and restock. And then I took my turn out at the lake with Cody. Andrew was, happily, still there. Cody brought him a bag of lollipops because, as he told me, "Andrew is the kindest boy in the whole world and my best friend. I love him." Nothing says love like lollipops.
I watched as Andrew and Cody cast their lines, over and over. And then, Andrew caught something. A large snapping turtle. Probably 18 inches long. Which had swallowed the hook.
They brought the turtle up on the shore and Andrew was trying to figure out what to do. The turtle was angry and hurt and Andrew was worried that he was going to have to cut the line. Which, as he solemnly informed Cody, would kill it; being stuck as it would be with a hook in its throat.
So I took Andrew's pliers. And then pulled out my little utility knife and converted it into a second set of pliers. And then I had him use the handle of his net to push down on the turtle's head just enough to keep its head out, and jaws open.
And then I went to work.
Here I am, my fingers two inches away from a very unhappy set of jaws, trying desperately to save the life of this turtle, with this 11-year-old kid I've never met, and Cody, meanwhile, is perched right behind me, imitating Steve Irwin.
"That's it. You're all right. There's a good girl. Crikey, she's grumpy. That's a grumpy turtle, Daddy. It's okay, you're all right turtle, you're all right."
And the whole time he's unconsciously doing this patter in an Australian accent.
Eventually, the hook came out. The turtle survived. Nature. Goulet. And everyone was happy at Tippy Lake. Except for me.
Because I h-word fishing.
If only Pop-Pop and Uncle Bob lived closer.
Anyway, the story I'm about to tell has no pictures. Except in my mind.
Cody has been, since his holiday in Parsippany, obsessed with fishing. Shannon bought him a fishing pole. And on Saturday, she took him to the nearby lake--we've always called it the "Tippy Lake," because it has so many turtles; this will be important--to try his luck. While there, they met a nice boy named Andrew, who was also out angling. Shannon captured Cody's joy in finding a compatriot:
After two hours in the sun, Cody and Shannon came home for the bathroom and to hydrate and restock. And then I took my turn out at the lake with Cody. Andrew was, happily, still there. Cody brought him a bag of lollipops because, as he told me, "Andrew is the kindest boy in the whole world and my best friend. I love him." Nothing says love like lollipops.
I watched as Andrew and Cody cast their lines, over and over. And then, Andrew caught something. A large snapping turtle. Probably 18 inches long. Which had swallowed the hook.
They brought the turtle up on the shore and Andrew was trying to figure out what to do. The turtle was angry and hurt and Andrew was worried that he was going to have to cut the line. Which, as he solemnly informed Cody, would kill it; being stuck as it would be with a hook in its throat.
So I took Andrew's pliers. And then pulled out my little utility knife and converted it into a second set of pliers. And then I had him use the handle of his net to push down on the turtle's head just enough to keep its head out, and jaws open.
And then I went to work.
Here I am, my fingers two inches away from a very unhappy set of jaws, trying desperately to save the life of this turtle, with this 11-year-old kid I've never met, and Cody, meanwhile, is perched right behind me, imitating Steve Irwin.
"That's it. You're all right. There's a good girl. Crikey, she's grumpy. That's a grumpy turtle, Daddy. It's okay, you're all right turtle, you're all right."
And the whole time he's unconsciously doing this patter in an Australian accent.
Eventually, the hook came out. The turtle survived. Nature. Goulet. And everyone was happy at Tippy Lake. Except for me.
Because I h-word fishing.
If only Pop-Pop and Uncle Bob lived closer.
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