From 9/13/2011 (I am slow to get it published):
Today as I drove the kids home from school, John, who has been a bit of a 4-year-old pill lately, warmed my heart all the way through. All three of the older kids beg/fight to sit next to Helen in the car. John rarely wins since I tend not to intervene on his behalf. To be honest, she doesn't always appreciate the enthusiasm of his company.
But lately, James and Maggie have been busy with their books in the car, and even if they fight to sit next to Helen, they rarely interact with her. John, although a bit in her face, usually plays with her the whole time, which she adores.
Today, he simply sang quietly to himself as he held her hand: "Helen is the world's best baby. Helen is the world's best baby." Over and over again, he sang. Pretty endearing from a mom's point of view.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
John develops fashion sense
We had a relatively new babysitter to the house. Apparently, John liked Constance pretty well. As she was leaving, he ran to the door to hug her leg. Then, to add to her startled state, John said, "I really like your clothes! Where do you get them?"
"Umm, I don't know. At the store, I guess, just like where you get your clothes," came Constance's slightly bewildered reply.
John's face lit up. "Oh! You have a Goodwill, too?!"
"Umm, I don't know. At the store, I guess, just like where you get your clothes," came Constance's slightly bewildered reply.
John's face lit up. "Oh! You have a Goodwill, too?!"
Selected Survival Writing by James
I have enjoyed reading James's writings. He has an active, imaginative voice in creative writing, and a bluntly honest personal voice. I have selected a few of my favorites from the collection that he wrote over the long weekend.
Assignment 1: Write about your survival book (Hatchet) as if you were a person reporting on the book just after the survival incident occured. (James chose a newspaper article format.)
Plane Down, Presumed Fatal
Last night a one-engine plane carrying Brian Robinson and a forty-year old pilot went off its flight path and crashed in the Canadian wilderness. Searchers have been working all night but to no avail. His parents are horror- struck and so are officials. Brian, who lives in New York with his mother, was on his way to visit his father in northern Canada.
The first reports came in yesterday afternoon. “I heard a crazy call from the crashing plane and he said something about a dead pilot and not knowing how to fly,” said a nearby pilot. Even if Brian survived the crash, he will be hit with hunger, cold, and wild animals. Yet still his parents are convinced he is alive and well and are eager to find him.
Assignment 2: Write about your survival book (Hatchet) as if you were a person reporting on the book after the person was rescued from the situation. (James again chose a newspaper article format.)
Amazing Survival!
Last night, after a pilot heard an emergency radio, he landed on an L-shaped lake in the Canadian wilderness where 13-year-old Brian Robinson had survived a plane crash. Brian had been surviving alone on this lake for 3 months with only a hatchet, a windbreaker, and the clothes he was wearing. We have his personal story here.
I was on my way to visit my dad who lives in northern Canada, when the pilot had a heart attack. When the pilot jerked he hit the rudder petal which made the plane jerk to the right. Then after about an hour the plane claimed that it was low on fuel. So, I tried to land the plane by the lake. Instead I crashed into the lake and nearly killed myself. After my “landing” I was hurt badly enough that I went straight to sleep. Upon waking I was so thirsty that I drank straight out of the lake which made me barf. The next thing that I did was, naturally, find food. I followed some birds to a gut cherry [choke cherry] bush.
After eating my fill, I set to work on a shelter. I found a cave on a high rock ledge with a natural path up to it. I would have hit the ledge if I had crashed 10 feet to the right. There was a wide opening to the cave with a hole in the roof (perfect for the smoke of the fire I did not have) and a nice flat place to sleep! So, I went to work with my hatchet to make a little wall to cover most of the opening.
I had many times when self-pity and despair kind of overtook me. So, to keep myself busy I worked very hard. For example, I made a fire with a hatchet, made a bow and arrows to hunt rabbits, birds, and fish, and made an improved shelter.
All of these things were destroyed when a tornado hit, leaving only the hatchet, the wind breaker, and me. I thought that this was a bad thing but this was really what led to my rescue. This was because the tornado moved the tail of the plane up out of the water. That tail had a survival pack in it. With the tail of the plane out of the water I was able to get to the survival pack. So, I made a raft and got the survival pack, which included a sleeping bag, a cooking set, a water-proof container with matches and 2 lighters, a sheath knife with a compass in the handle, a first aid kit with scissors, a hat, fishing kit, a rifle, an emergency radio, two bars of soap, and dozens and dozens of food packets. I had just put a beef and potato diner on when the emergency radio called in a pilot who saved me. So here I am.
Assignment 3. Reflect on a time when you were afraid. What scares you as you prepare to go to survival camp?
Fear and Why We Need It
When I was 7 my dad fell out of a tree and had a concussion. He had been trying to tie up a rope swing while we were camping. I thought he was dead. I went and hid behind a woodpile after I saw him fall. Then, when the ambulance came I figured out that they would not call an ambulance if he was dead. I am afraid of losing loved ones. My fears for survival camp are that I will not survive.
Surprisingly, fear is a good thing! Fear keeps us in check and it helps us know when not to do something. Fear is like a guide keeping us from danger. Fear keeps us close to God. Fear of God is even better! Fear of God keeps us from rebelling because we are afraid of His power. It helps us to trust Him. Fear may not be a bad thing after all.
Assignment 4. Write about your chosen survival book from the perspective of an animal witnessing the human in that situation.
Strange New Creature
By W. Olf
Last week, as we all know, a strange being came into our presence here in the Canadian Wilderness. Here, as your local newspaper, we have all of the details of his doings. Most of these aren’t very interesting, such as building shelters or collecting berries.
We have collected comments from all of the animals that have seen some of his extremely interesting doings.
“Well, I was just flying through the air, minding my own business, when this strange metal bird came out of nowhere, crashed through the trees, lost its wings, and plunged into the lake,” said Mr. Hawk.
Mr. Stink Y. Skunk commented, “I was crawling around on the Ledge when I noticed some nice turtle eggs just sitting there. As I began to eat them, he [the stranger] popped up and started yelling at me. Naturally, because it is my instinct, I sprayed him. He backed off while I finished the remainder of the eggs.”
And, the most interesting of all comes from Mr. Porc U. Pine. “Well, I just came around the same cave as Mr. Stink Y. Skunk. Because it was my duty, as a policeman, I walked into the cave and looked around. Because of my rattling, I woke the creature and he got scared and started shaking. Then, he threw an immensely sharp stick that nearly cut off my head spikes. Because I was frustrated at nearly losing my head spikes, I gave him some of this,” he said, rattling his spikes at me. “
In addition to these reports, he has been walking around with a stick and a string, launching the sticks at poor, unfortunate fish, birds, and rabbits. On page A3, we have listed all of the unlucky animals that have perished for his eating.
For anyone who does not feel safe living in their burrow or cave, they may contact Mr. Grizzly.
Assignment 5. Poetry. James composed about a dozen poems in various styles that the students were learning. I have included a few here, though I can't reproduce the fonts that he painstakingly selected to match the mood of each poem.
Survival camp is brown
It tastes like bad food
It sounds like crackling fires
It smells like unwashed people
It looks like woods
It makes me feel independent
Running through the woods
We need to get to the lodge
For a small drizzle
Camp
Warm, wet
Sleeping, surviving, smoking
Happy to be there
Fun
Orange
Orange is my poncho
Orange is the glowing char cloth
Orange is the sparks that fly
Orange is the dying flame
Orange smells like smoke
Orange tastes like burnt hot dogs
Orange sounds like burning logs
Orange looks warm and inviting
Orange feels warm
Orange makes me happy
Orange is our fire
Assignment 1: Write about your survival book (Hatchet) as if you were a person reporting on the book just after the survival incident occured. (James chose a newspaper article format.)
Plane Down, Presumed Fatal
Last night a one-engine plane carrying Brian Robinson and a forty-year old pilot went off its flight path and crashed in the Canadian wilderness. Searchers have been working all night but to no avail. His parents are horror- struck and so are officials. Brian, who lives in New York with his mother, was on his way to visit his father in northern Canada.
The first reports came in yesterday afternoon. “I heard a crazy call from the crashing plane and he said something about a dead pilot and not knowing how to fly,” said a nearby pilot. Even if Brian survived the crash, he will be hit with hunger, cold, and wild animals. Yet still his parents are convinced he is alive and well and are eager to find him.
 |
| This is like somewhere Brian may have crashed. |
Assignment 2: Write about your survival book (Hatchet) as if you were a person reporting on the book after the person was rescued from the situation. (James again chose a newspaper article format.)
Amazing Survival!
Last night, after a pilot heard an emergency radio, he landed on an L-shaped lake in the Canadian wilderness where 13-year-old Brian Robinson had survived a plane crash. Brian had been surviving alone on this lake for 3 months with only a hatchet, a windbreaker, and the clothes he was wearing. We have his personal story here.
I was on my way to visit my dad who lives in northern Canada, when the pilot had a heart attack. When the pilot jerked he hit the rudder petal which made the plane jerk to the right. Then after about an hour the plane claimed that it was low on fuel. So, I tried to land the plane by the lake. Instead I crashed into the lake and nearly killed myself. After my “landing” I was hurt badly enough that I went straight to sleep. Upon waking I was so thirsty that I drank straight out of the lake which made me barf. The next thing that I did was, naturally, find food. I followed some birds to a gut cherry [choke cherry] bush.
After eating my fill, I set to work on a shelter. I found a cave on a high rock ledge with a natural path up to it. I would have hit the ledge if I had crashed 10 feet to the right. There was a wide opening to the cave with a hole in the roof (perfect for the smoke of the fire I did not have) and a nice flat place to sleep! So, I went to work with my hatchet to make a little wall to cover most of the opening.
I had many times when self-pity and despair kind of overtook me. So, to keep myself busy I worked very hard. For example, I made a fire with a hatchet, made a bow and arrows to hunt rabbits, birds, and fish, and made an improved shelter.
All of these things were destroyed when a tornado hit, leaving only the hatchet, the wind breaker, and me. I thought that this was a bad thing but this was really what led to my rescue. This was because the tornado moved the tail of the plane up out of the water. That tail had a survival pack in it. With the tail of the plane out of the water I was able to get to the survival pack. So, I made a raft and got the survival pack, which included a sleeping bag, a cooking set, a water-proof container with matches and 2 lighters, a sheath knife with a compass in the handle, a first aid kit with scissors, a hat, fishing kit, a rifle, an emergency radio, two bars of soap, and dozens and dozens of food packets. I had just put a beef and potato diner on when the emergency radio called in a pilot who saved me. So here I am.
 |
| Brian's Fire |
Assignment 3. Reflect on a time when you were afraid. What scares you as you prepare to go to survival camp?
Fear and Why We Need It
When I was 7 my dad fell out of a tree and had a concussion. He had been trying to tie up a rope swing while we were camping. I thought he was dead. I went and hid behind a woodpile after I saw him fall. Then, when the ambulance came I figured out that they would not call an ambulance if he was dead. I am afraid of losing loved ones. My fears for survival camp are that I will not survive.
Surprisingly, fear is a good thing! Fear keeps us in check and it helps us know when not to do something. Fear is like a guide keeping us from danger. Fear keeps us close to God. Fear of God is even better! Fear of God keeps us from rebelling because we are afraid of His power. It helps us to trust Him. Fear may not be a bad thing after all.
Assignment 4. Write about your chosen survival book from the perspective of an animal witnessing the human in that situation.
Strange New Creature
By W. Olf
Last week, as we all know, a strange being came into our presence here in the Canadian Wilderness. Here, as your local newspaper, we have all of the details of his doings. Most of these aren’t very interesting, such as building shelters or collecting berries.
We have collected comments from all of the animals that have seen some of his extremely interesting doings.
“Well, I was just flying through the air, minding my own business, when this strange metal bird came out of nowhere, crashed through the trees, lost its wings, and plunged into the lake,” said Mr. Hawk.
Mr. Stink Y. Skunk commented, “I was crawling around on the Ledge when I noticed some nice turtle eggs just sitting there. As I began to eat them, he [the stranger] popped up and started yelling at me. Naturally, because it is my instinct, I sprayed him. He backed off while I finished the remainder of the eggs.”
And, the most interesting of all comes from Mr. Porc U. Pine. “Well, I just came around the same cave as Mr. Stink Y. Skunk. Because it was my duty, as a policeman, I walked into the cave and looked around. Because of my rattling, I woke the creature and he got scared and started shaking. Then, he threw an immensely sharp stick that nearly cut off my head spikes. Because I was frustrated at nearly losing my head spikes, I gave him some of this,” he said, rattling his spikes at me. “
In addition to these reports, he has been walking around with a stick and a string, launching the sticks at poor, unfortunate fish, birds, and rabbits. On page A3, we have listed all of the unlucky animals that have perished for his eating.
For anyone who does not feel safe living in their burrow or cave, they may contact Mr. Grizzly.
Assignment 5. Poetry. James composed about a dozen poems in various styles that the students were learning. I have included a few here, though I can't reproduce the fonts that he painstakingly selected to match the mood of each poem.
Survival camp is brown
It tastes like bad food
It sounds like crackling fires
It smells like unwashed people
It looks like woods
It makes me feel independent
Running through the woods
We need to get to the lodge
For a small drizzle
Camp
Warm, wet
Sleeping, surviving, smoking
Happy to be there
Fun
Orange
Orange is my poncho
Orange is the glowing char cloth
Orange is the sparks that fly
Orange is the dying flame
Orange smells like smoke
Orange tastes like burnt hot dogs
Orange sounds like burning logs
Orange looks warm and inviting
Orange feels warm
Orange makes me happy
Orange is our fire
James is writing
With the rush of the school year, both for Jeremy and I and for the kids, I was really looking forward to the kids' fall break - a 4-day weekend. I envisioned unhurried time to just enjoy the kids. Sure, I still had to work. But in between, no time spent driving kids to school; no after-school activities; just calm. I know many families at this school use the weekend for a mini-family vacation. Obviously we won't do that, since we can't get out of work for ourselves. But, I certainly wasn't picturing what happened.
First, a few hours before picking the kids up from thei last day at school, I received an email from James's teacher. It was short and cheery - just "I have attached a few files that James was working on at school that he will need to finish up at home. Clue number One. Then, James came home with a piece of poster board. Clue number Two. Then, James informed me later that evening that he needed to get started on his homework. Clue number Three. (He is never eager to do homework and certainly not in the habit of telling me when he has it, or starting it on the first of a 4-day break.)
I pretty much ignored all of this for the first 24 hours, but then James was busy working on it and asking me for assistance. I could proofread individual writings that he put before me, but I couldn't get from him a coherent description of what he was trying to do. I didn't know the purpose of each short writing piece, or the assignment. I couldn't even get a consistent answer from him about the total amount of work that he had to do. I honestly don't believe he was being evasive; I think he just didn't have a very good idea of the whole project himself. Or, maybe I could better say, he couldn't quite hold the whole project in his mind at one time to be able to explain it to me.
Unfortunately, the project morphed many times, and grew like a cancer. First it was "just a little while" that James thought he would work on Thursday afternoon. That turned into several hours. Friday also required multiple hours of work. Saturday was an even longer stretch of work. Sunday as James sat down to finish, he assured me he could wrap it up in an hour or so. He then took over 7 hours. To his credit, he stayed in good spirits. He seemed to be enjoying the project, if not all of the time. He wanted to do a good job.
When I contacted his teacher on Monday, she assured me that James wrote aa much greater length than she had expected, but did a fine job. Still, what he did write shouldn't have taken him that much time, in my opinion.
It was hard to sit by and watch him struggle so much to get this done, but I tried really hard to be supportive without hovering or interfering. I proofread (his spelling always needs help). I offered editorial advice when he asked for it. I typed for him as he dictated, after he lost a computer file for the 2nd time and had to rewrite yet again. (Surprisingly, this file loss didn't seem to phase him much - he could repeat his work nearly without pause from memory. Aah, to have a memory like that again!)
In the end, I don't know why he had such a struggle to get the whole thing finished, but I was pleased with his work. His grade just completed a month-long reading unit on survival themes, culminating in an overnight survival campout which James loved (and Jeremy tolerated). This project turned out to be a variety of writings for the unit - both about the books the read (James focused on 1987-Newberry winner Hatchet by Gary Paulsen) and the camp experience. (Other books that they read included My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George and Island of the Blue Dolphin by Scott O'Dell).
I will post some of his writings separately.
First, a few hours before picking the kids up from thei last day at school, I received an email from James's teacher. It was short and cheery - just "I have attached a few files that James was working on at school that he will need to finish up at home. Clue number One. Then, James came home with a piece of poster board. Clue number Two. Then, James informed me later that evening that he needed to get started on his homework. Clue number Three. (He is never eager to do homework and certainly not in the habit of telling me when he has it, or starting it on the first of a 4-day break.)
I pretty much ignored all of this for the first 24 hours, but then James was busy working on it and asking me for assistance. I could proofread individual writings that he put before me, but I couldn't get from him a coherent description of what he was trying to do. I didn't know the purpose of each short writing piece, or the assignment. I couldn't even get a consistent answer from him about the total amount of work that he had to do. I honestly don't believe he was being evasive; I think he just didn't have a very good idea of the whole project himself. Or, maybe I could better say, he couldn't quite hold the whole project in his mind at one time to be able to explain it to me.
Unfortunately, the project morphed many times, and grew like a cancer. First it was "just a little while" that James thought he would work on Thursday afternoon. That turned into several hours. Friday also required multiple hours of work. Saturday was an even longer stretch of work. Sunday as James sat down to finish, he assured me he could wrap it up in an hour or so. He then took over 7 hours. To his credit, he stayed in good spirits. He seemed to be enjoying the project, if not all of the time. He wanted to do a good job.
When I contacted his teacher on Monday, she assured me that James wrote aa much greater length than she had expected, but did a fine job. Still, what he did write shouldn't have taken him that much time, in my opinion.
It was hard to sit by and watch him struggle so much to get this done, but I tried really hard to be supportive without hovering or interfering. I proofread (his spelling always needs help). I offered editorial advice when he asked for it. I typed for him as he dictated, after he lost a computer file for the 2nd time and had to rewrite yet again. (Surprisingly, this file loss didn't seem to phase him much - he could repeat his work nearly without pause from memory. Aah, to have a memory like that again!)
In the end, I don't know why he had such a struggle to get the whole thing finished, but I was pleased with his work. His grade just completed a month-long reading unit on survival themes, culminating in an overnight survival campout which James loved (and Jeremy tolerated). This project turned out to be a variety of writings for the unit - both about the books the read (James focused on 1987-Newberry winner Hatchet by Gary Paulsen) and the camp experience. (Other books that they read included My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George and Island of the Blue Dolphin by Scott O'Dell).
I will post some of his writings separately.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Amusing phone call
The babysitter just called me at my office, barely15 minutes after I arrived.
"Um, I just wanted to check... is it normal for Helen to spit up a lot? She just spit up about three times in a row, quite a lot..."
I could barely suppress my laughter. Normal, in general, for an 8-month-old to spew more than Old Faithful? I suppose probably not. But for Helen? I am definitely not concerned. But, it is nice that the sitter is at least checking, I suppose.
"Um, I just wanted to check... is it normal for Helen to spit up a lot? She just spit up about three times in a row, quite a lot..."
I could barely suppress my laughter. Normal, in general, for an 8-month-old to spew more than Old Faithful? I suppose probably not. But for Helen? I am definitely not concerned. But, it is nice that the sitter is at least checking, I suppose.
Uh oh...
With a split level house, there are lots of places with steps, where we might put up a baby gate. But likewise, we couldn't stand our house with that many gates, so we have to install them judiciously. We have elected to block only the downward fall from our main level, out of the kitchen. We figure that if we have Helen up or down a flight of stairs, we will just keep her under closer watch and away from the steps.
That all works fine and dandy, until she gets ambitious. I left her alone in the kitchen this morning, and went up to the boys' bedroom with John to get something. I heard a squawk, turned around, and there she was, grinning at me from the 2nd step.
Now, she has been there before, because John, despite our warnings of severest physical punishment, will sometimes lift her up there. But he was with me today. Which means the obvious problem for us, of course. Bored with pulling up on furniture, and now apparently bored with the one-hand-on-furniture stand and balance ("so last week, Mom") and even the cruise a few steps along the furniture ("so yesterday, Mom"), Helen has decided to learn how to climb steps.
We really can't put another baby gate in at the bottom of that staircase. So, we will just have to hope that she also gets quickly bored with idea of climbing. Maybe she will get distracted by learning a different skill - like actually making consonant sounds? Nah. Speech is over-rated. Locomotion is apparently where it's at.
That all works fine and dandy, until she gets ambitious. I left her alone in the kitchen this morning, and went up to the boys' bedroom with John to get something. I heard a squawk, turned around, and there she was, grinning at me from the 2nd step.
Now, she has been there before, because John, despite our warnings of severest physical punishment, will sometimes lift her up there. But he was with me today. Which means the obvious problem for us, of course. Bored with pulling up on furniture, and now apparently bored with the one-hand-on-furniture stand and balance ("so last week, Mom") and even the cruise a few steps along the furniture ("so yesterday, Mom"), Helen has decided to learn how to climb steps.
We really can't put another baby gate in at the bottom of that staircase. So, we will just have to hope that she also gets quickly bored with idea of climbing. Maybe she will get distracted by learning a different skill - like actually making consonant sounds? Nah. Speech is over-rated. Locomotion is apparently where it's at.
Monday, September 12, 2011
The sights around our place these days
Helen has discovered a new skill. On Labor Day weekend, she learned to pull up to standing on the furniture. Since then, she does it constantly, almost like a compulsion. We see more and more of her innate personality in this - quiet, determined, unstoppable.
She frequently falls over and bumps her head, which makes her cry, but doesn't make her stop standing. She pulls up on the chair rails. She pulls up on our legs. She stands up in her crib after naps. She is trying her darndest to scale the vertical bars of the baby safety gate.
 |
| Can you tell just how darn proud of herself she is? |
 |
| Anything she can scrape at with her vise-like grip is fair game for standing, including the sliding patio doors. |
 |
| She refuses to even bend at the waist much of the time anymore. "I'll just stand, thank you, Dad." |
Fortunately (??) for us, she just found a new passion, wshich may distract her at least once in a while from standing up.
,
 |
| This shelf has a lot of cups. As Helen quickly demonstrated for us. |
 |
| "My work here is done." |
Crawling, oddly enough, is still sketchy. She gets all the way up on her knees now, but only occasionally moves arms and legs in alternating fashion. Most often, she dives forward with both arms out, then pulls both legs up underneath herself, inchworm-style. She has clearly decided it isn't worth the bother when she could just learn to walk (run?) instead.
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