Sensory Explosion

And even my skin hurts.  Wow. 

Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry was a exciting surprise to our four kids, as we headed them off to bed the night prior with only indication that spring break is ending and school starts back up soon; so, we've got to get our clothes picked out at night and go ahead into bed "on time"  .  .  .  to get back closer to "routine." 

They did not know we were going to Chicago until we were 1/2-way (1 1/2 hours) into the drive, already passing nearby Clinton (One child cried out curiously to the rest "Hey, guys, we're past Lilah and Brooks'; we must be going to Nathan and Ethan's.")  But then, we passed also Bloomington-Normal.  Hunter inspected the cargo space behind his seat and noted there was not any luggage stowed there, "We must not be going to Pap and Grandma's."

Despite the typical reminders (and sometimes tired admonitions) to "stay with us" or "watch where you're going," the day was full of visual excitement, hands-on displays, and lots of auditory components.  Already having done the inaugural 3-day Chicago experience last summer, the kids seem to have remembered the lessons learned in general about things being busy and crowded and that they needed to be mindful of how to maneuver in large, peopled public spaces. 

Chad and I were thoroughly impressed with the additional (extra $), timed-entry, coal mine exhibit, despite Bay's terror of anything potentially dark or noisy or not under her control; everyone enjoyed their sodium and sugar-rich, overpriced lunch; the submarine encounter was marvelous; the "You" exhibit of human body parts on display was very interesting, but I was disappointed, I think with myself, that I found it less beautiful than I anticipated; and then a ton of smaller, quicker areas and displays.  OH, and the space display included two "real" NASA vehicles used in missions (Apollo, and one from the series prior).  We ended in the gift shop, of course, where the kids did a good job of finding small, appropriate treasures -- Bay -- a plastic case of gem/mineral samples; Anna -- a bag of colorful, polished rocks and NASA freeze-dried ice cream; Jameson -- a foam flyer to construct; and Hunter -- a geode and Lego set. 

The Mythbusters exhibit and flight simulator (both extra tickets) also looked pretty darn cool, but we set ourselves on a budget.  Maybe next time ; )

Thinking the Art Institute, and/or North Michigan (cool shops and wonderful eats), and/or Chinatown will be on the docket for the next northward excursion  .  .  . 

For now, this introvert needs to recover from a museum designed for children and for giving sensory stimulation.  Over.  Stimulated.  (Hence the "my skin hurt" comment).  Time for nestling under thick covers with book 4 of Maya Angelou's autobiographical series.  And quiet.

I do love taking the kids to Chicago -- as a piece of their learning that their functional daily world is but a tiny corner in a larger world. 

Nurture me when I'm down;

but when I become complacent, stir in me discomfort. 

So, my sister got me hooked on a daily email subscription from a website/education program created by Father Richard Rohr, and I have to say it's been a fresh, calming way to start a day humbly.  To be honest, I like that it's edgy -- pushes daily human issues to stir us up, make us think, make us reconsider our present comfort zones  .  .  .  Today's was particularly pointed  .  .  .   (excerpted for brevity)  .  .  .

"The second temptation of Jesus is another one that all of us must face. Satan takes Jesus up to the pinnacle of the Temple, symbolizing the top of the religious world itself, and tells him to play “righteousness games” with God. “Throw yourself off and He’ll catch you” (Matthew 4:6). It’s the only time in the Bible where the devil quotes Scripture. Holy words can be used for evil purposes, it surely says. This second temptation is to think of yourself as saved, superior to others, the moral elite on the side of God and religion, and to quote arguable Scriptures for your own purpose—being against God in the name of God. Actually it is quite common  .  .  . be careful before you stand on the pinnacle of any Temple, Scripture, or Sacrament. It is the common temptation of actually loving ourselves under the guise of loving God." Adapted from Radical Grace: Daily Meditations, p. 295, day 309 http://www.cacradicalgrace.org/

Her World

As Baylor was away with a friend for an overnight, I took the opportunity to do another "purge" of the girls' toy room  .  .  .  a large, black trash bag hauled out to the curb, and another big bag carried to the basement marked "Bay -- ferment -- March '12" (of things I deem trash that have potential to be a legit treasure in her mind -- after 6-ish months, this collection goes from lower level to trash).  What remains is easily, then, organized and put away, leaving lots of breathing room and space to play.  Phew!  There were a few papers that I kept for scrapbooks  .  .  .  Evidence of her playing teacher in her make-believe classroom  .  .  . 

"Dear Julie Cunningham,  Johnathon needs to work on four core words.  Thye are, somebody, landscape, author, and natinal.  He knows alot already.  Like without, throughout, tantrum, department, catalog, and dictinoary.  He's really good!  Yours truly, Ms. Mkay  P.S.  If you'd like a copy of all of his lists, just let me know! --Mrs. Mkay"

And this concoction, apparently from a day she was spending time with her dictionary  .  .  .

"Funny word list from the dictionary  .  .  .  rainbow  beef  misel  measles  throng  spur  sprung  astronomer  baffle  bacterium  bald  barber  band  barium  barnacle  barracks  barometer  barris  basin."   

Must have begun randomly, and then went OCD in the "b's."

It is an exhausting few hours to do the "Baylor's stuff purge," AND hilarious!

I found three "story-writing" binders.  And two folders of the same -- completed stories she's written, ideas for future stories, lists of the stories  .  .  .  Papers too numerous to count that have come home from school with her that she uses for her "classroom" upstairs -- lunch calendars, extra worksheets, old flashcards  .  .  .  Old, used-up gift cards as play credit cards  .  .  .  Scraps of fabric from Grandma's she's using for God knows what in the "baby nursery"  .  .  .  And then the bags and purses that multiply on the row of hooks behind the door, in one of which I found ANOTHER "story-writing" binder AND folder  .  .  .

I'm going in, if you don't see me in three hours, send search and rescue -- I've disappeared into Baylor Ann Hermione-Ramona Cluver's imaginary world.

Lights

Payard champaign truffles (dusted in cocoa powder) from New York -- sent as a birthday indulgence by a dear sister-friend.

New yoga DVDs.

Children learning how to do the dishes.

May weather in early March.

Getting responses to my research inquiries for my grad school paper.

A lovely visit and lunch with a gentleman and some OSF sisters to talk about Haitian Families First.

Funny students, and bright, curious, and good-natured.  My teaching gig is good.

A "cake" (type yet to be discovered) dusted with cocoa powder, also shipped to me by sister-friend for my birthday; arrived in special packaging and dry ice.  In freezer until I've enjoyed the truffles -- parceling out all that goodness for extended birthday enjoyment.

The decluttering process.  I've been in the works at a moderate pace for two months.  I anticipate it taking through the summer to finish.  It is so energy-giving, but I have to do it in small projects in between other priorities.  It does feel like a breath of fresh air, though!

A massage gift certificate from my sis-in-law and bro-in-law for, yep, my burfday.  Can't wait for that appointment  .  .  .  very soon.

Have I mentioned anything about sweet delicacies dusted in cocoa powder?

Maya Angelou's books.  I'm pretty far in life to be tackling that series, but after dabbling in her works a wee bit over many years (LOVE "On The Pulse of Morning"!!! And her eulogy at the funeral of Coretta Scott King is eye-watering and skin-tingling amazing), I realized I needed to know more, read more.  At least, I suppose, I'm getting to it before I'm 40.  (Right before -- sh!.) 

A daughter VERY excited about an out-of-town sleepover invite from a sweet, dear friend.

Another daughter recovering from her hilarious, passionate excitement over ISAT testing.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Way, way serious about good performance, writing "good luck on ISAT" notes to classmates, being sure to wear her "comfy ISAT clothes" to school.  Alarmed by her earache and the possibity of being sick from school during the testing.  Sit-com funny.

A son who has lived through his first grounded-to-his-room consequence.  Has lived to tell the tale, and finds great relief in rejoining his brother "out in the world" for hugging, tickling, and giggling, once again.

A dog who makes yoga darn near impossible.  50 pounds of pup lying on the yoga matt makes quite difficult the transition from child's pose to prowd warrior.  She is her own downward dog.

In process of refinancing the house.  Ridiculous big money to be saved.  Ridiculous big money we all pay in interest, typically.  Wow!  And wow!

A former student, now a Starbuck's barista, gave me his employee discount.  Nice.

I've got a tentative idea for my eventual master's thesis.

Our taxes are almost finished.

Sleeping with the windows open, and awakening to BIRDS! 

I realized the other day that there are some people out there who do, indeed, read my blog.  You rock!

Nigh-night. 

Seasonal Randomness

I think we're all on the mend -- various viruses and bacteria made their way through the 6 of us, at staggered times.  Phew!

And it was SEVENTY-EIGHT degrees here today!  Woo hoooooo!  When the boys were at the state bball tourney Saturday, we, girls, decided we needed to do something fun, and the polished result of professionally painted toenails got to see some sunshine this afternoon.

Taxes.

Plodding along with my paper -- the history of Haitian adoption, and analyzing such relative to historic trends in U.S. perspectives of Haiti.

Kids granted TPS (Temporary Protected Status); so, they are now allowed to stay in the U.S. until January.  Then, more bureaucracy .  .  .    (Thankful for the lovely lady within one agency of the government who continues so graciously to guide us -- serious "amen" for her!)

Mom's recovering well from her cancer surgery and will soon learn her radiation regimine, and wonderful thing that it doesn't start until after her annual "sisters' trip" (all four Miller girls).

Anna and Jameson are in the tail-end intensity of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Children -- introduction and blessings at mass last Sunday and the next two, then baptism and first communion at the Easter Vigil. Lots of studies and homework yet to go.

Still doing what I am able to spread awareness of the work of Haitian Families First; big visit tomorrow with some local (Decatur) folks in influential positions -- wish me well!

"Did You Drink All Those Pills?"

Anna asked. 

Wild Alaskan Salmon oil pills.

Probiotic capsules.

Lyseine pills.

Organic multi-vitamin and mineral supplement.

Super extract wild Mediterranean oregano capsules.

Breathing relief tea.

Vitamin C throat lozenges.

Kill the germs!  Boost the immune system!  Soothe the cough!  Pleeeeeeeeeeease! 

Urgent care doc said "virus," and for me to rest and push fluids.  My whole body hurts -- entire upper 1/2 -- from burning throat and sore ears to raspy, irritated chest/cough and swollen glands and nodes.  And aches and chills all over.  Don't they usually put critters out of their misery before they get to this point?

Apparently, all my laundering and Lysol-ing and window-opening and hand-washing didn't save me from the boys' (all 3) germs. 

Bum-COUGH-mer.

Mardi Gras!

Bay was the first to take the plunge  .  .  .  An incredible face-painting artist

was at this year's Mardi Gras CCD kids' party at church on Sunday morning.

Another mom, painted with flowers and swirls, asked when I was going under the brush.  I though I was safe with, "I haven't been to mass, yet."  (We always attend 11:00am church immediately following the kids' CCD class.)  The friendly and fun-loving mom, however, responded, "I haven't, yet, either!"  Turns out a fair % of the congregation prayed and sang for the 1-hour church service with all sorts of colorful images on our faces, and for one grandfather -- on the top of his balding head.

Fitting.  And adorable!

She WAS actually delighted with her pink zebra facial decoration, but apparently a party, a pretty design, and a new outfit from Mom doesn't always mean cooperation or avoiding Mom's subsequent directives and consequences.  To post or not to post?  Hmm.  Every now and then a record of full reality, of the challenges, of the progress, of the work -- maybe not a bad thing.

For reasons unclear, Hunter hesitated until the last few minutes, and, in classic Hunter fashion,

worked a deal with Dad  .  .  .  If I get my face painted, then you  .  .  .

The at-home lunch conversation turned to who was powerful, strong, safe  .  . .  Jameson insisted that tigers eat zebras, to which Hunter spouted that zebras live in the African savanna, whereas tigers live in the jungles of South Asia.  After about a half-hour (during the car ride home) of delighting that she and Mama look like peacocks, Bay asked, "Do peacocks live where tigers live?"

Sadly, she learned that yes, they do.

This and That

Anna and I made a pit stop at Target (Starbucks) for a prescription (and hot beverages), and after ordering our drinks I indicated for Anna to go ahead and have a seat at a nearby table while I waited for our order to be prepared.  What a year of growth, people -- she made her way to a seat (courteous of the traffic flow of the other customers) and set napkins and spoons at her place and at mine (with which to eat the whipped cream from the drinks).  She said "please."  She said "thank you."  She didn't ask if Starbucks has ice cream.  A year ago, months ago, not all that many weeks ago, even, I would have given my right arm to have her tune in, and here we are.  Ahhhhh  .  .  .  (a momentary exhale of relief and mutual victory).

Upon the arrival home of my 38-year-old eyes (and whole self) from my eye appointment, Baylor was envious to learn I had a pair of reading glasses.  Angling for information with which to angle further, she inquired what "reading glasses" are for, exactly, and I explained they help with focusing.  Enter 2nd round of working it, Bay says "Yes, sometimes when I read and there are other people around doing stuff, it's hard for me to focus, too."

We called Anna and Jameson's first mom in Haiti today, and as my progress with learning Kreyol has been anything but progressive, it was a muttering of a few basic phrases from me, some prepared statements and basic phrases from Anna, repeated "Alo" (hello) and "Wi" (yes) from Jameson, and Anna translating loosely to me what Manman (Mama) Bonithe was saying to us and asking.  (Anna's receptive Kreyol remains in decent shape; it's producing it that proves problematic.)  At one point in the question sequence from Manman Bonithe and Jameson's "Wi," "Wi," "Wi," Anna laughed saying to me that Jameson just answered "Wi" (yes) to Bonithe's inquiry if he was being weird/silly.  I responded, then, to their first mom "Wi, e no, e wi" (yes and no and yes) -- with a laughing voice to indicate as best I could that he's not being a bad sort of silly, but definitely silly.  She laughed and laughed and laughed.  It's difficult to know another person's thoughts or feelings.  It at least seemed that we were two sister-mothers laughing together at our son.

Speaking of Jameson, he is now the big one-zero, yep, a decade old.  Haitian spaghetti, again, for the meal, chocolate cake with Grandma Jones' whipped cream icing, some gift-opening, treats to school and to the sitter's.  He's a fun one to watch at gift time, everything is an intense, "OH! Thank. You!"  He is appreciative and excited to a delightful degree. 

The scene in front of our house that greeted Anna and I when we turned to pull into the driveway  .  .  .  Baylor, goggle-protected, bent over rocks plucked from the driveway, hammer in rubber-gloved hand.  Smashing for crystals and fossils.  "Look, Mom, powder everywhere, and my new minerals book inside the house is my scientist reference, and do you see the sparkle in this one, and, and, and..."  Okay, Hermione-Ramona.

Honey

So, the kids' Valentines treats must have been a hit; I left this a.m. for a speaking engagement with a civic organization before the children had descended to the main floor, but I heard whooping and skipping about upstairs -- fairly unusual for 6:30 on a dark, wintry school morning.  And then, this is what I found upon return to the house at 8:00  .  .  .  Anna's PINK critter, Hunt's sweet turtle, Jameson's tiger, and Bay's bear all de-tagged, guarding the accompanying gifted candy, and poised deliberately for the kids' afternoon return.

Not really one much for the diamond chips heart pendant, "Every kiss belongs to Kay's" sort of manufactured syrupy love, Chad and I exchanged chocolates, and I received this sweet apparel item  .  .  .



So, Sherry, what first attracted you to Chad all those years ago?  Yes, it was his humor.  If the shirt image doesn't have you laughing a good, hearty cackle, then you have been away from YouTube far too long  .  .  .   (Language alert:  not appropriate for kids)   .  .  .  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg



Evidence of Bay

The new shelves I bought for our dining room  .  .  .  two weeks ago  .  .  .  that have set empty and unstocked, unbeautified, unutilized for too many days, apparently.  So, of course, this is a natural location for a wild animal baby nursery.