Lift Up Your Hearts!

Breakfast
An international child, Joseph might start his day with leftover pizza, or rice, or bread and peanut butter, or a tortilla with "spices" (more on that later).  But for the most part his breakfast is "no no bissi" a.k.a. yoghurt and muesli.  Unsweetened muesli and plain yoghurt—and he loves it.  His drink for all meals is water.  He feeds himself with a spoon quite competently, although as you can imagine some cleanup is required.

For breakfast I might have yoghurt and muesli, or cooked oatmeal, or good Swiss bread, or yummy, fresh Swiss eggs (with golden yolks). (More)

It's hard being a long-distance grandmother, whether the distance is 1000 miles or 4800.  Certainly I'd rather our grandchildren live just down the street!  But one compensation for the loss of frequent interaction is the joy of seeing how much the children change between visits.  As we await the time when I'll have baby news to announce, I'll share a few stories of life with Joseph, 18 months old and soon to assume the important role of big brother.

John Ciardi said that a child should be allowed to learn, "at the rate determined by her own happy hunger."  Joseph's current "happy hunger" is for letters and numbers.  He  has a wooden puzzle of the upper case alphabet that is the first toy he takes out in the morning, and again after his nap.  This was supplemented at Christmas by the nicest number puzzle I've seen, which includes the numbers from 0 through 20 and arithmetic operators as well.

 (More)

A Facebook discussion set me to pondering what I have learned through the years about necessary and unnecessary stress at Christmastime.  Yes, I think there is such a thing as necessary stress.  The discussion was prompted by this quotation from Ann Voskamp:  Whenever Christmas begins to burden, it’s a sign that I’ve taken on something of the world and not of Christ. Any weight in Christmas has to be of this world.

I appreciate the point, but I beg to differ, slightly.

The Christmas season, like all other seasons, has its own burdens and blessings. The work that goes into it, like the work that goes into life, can be delightful and can be stressful. I don't think it's a sign that we're doing something not of Christ just because it's stressful or burdensome.  Good things take work.  Labor, as in the birth of a baby.  The more effortless a work of art looks, and the more joy it brings to others (inspiring musical performance; smoothly-running household; creative, confident, well-behaved children), the more labor you can assume went into it.  Yet there's no denying that we can get so caught up in the effort that we miss the point, be it Christmas, or a wedding, or life itself.  (More)

The Duggar Family is just about the only reason I might wish, a little bit, that we had cable television.  Not really; Netflix has spoiled me for watching anything I can't control.  But Netflix has also failed me, not offering any but the first two seasons of their show.  As a result, I'm 'way behind on their story, other than the little snippets I can see on Hulu.  So I can't write the (long) post I want to.  Instead, I'll summarize everything I'd hoped to say this way:

• There are many things I like about their lives and the way they are raising their children.
• There are many things I don't like about their lives and the way they are raising their children.
• I don't understand the extreme reactions the family has provoked:
  • Not those who treat them like rock stars, standing worshipfully in line for hours just to see them at a book signing.
  • Even less those who treat them as if they were evil incarnate, responding with vicious, hateful, ignorant comments.
• No one can ever adequately judge a family while it is still a work "in process."  But I will note three things:
  
  • They have been under an intense media spotlight for years; major politicians get less scrutiny.  They've been interviewed, filmed, followed, and written about by journalists from all over the world.  If they were hiding some dirty little secret, it would be known by now.
  • The children (ranging in age from one to 23) are clearly well-behaved, pleasant, active, helpful, and happy.
  • The parents are incredibly gracious in their responses to, and understanding of, those who question or misunderstand them.

I say, more power to them, and congratulations on expecting #20!  Netflix, are you listening?

Here's a video from the Today Show that considers why the Duggar Family might elicit such strong reactions.

What were you doing at 11-11-11 11:11:11?

I was washing dishes.  I noticed the clock at 11:13.

Our son-in-law, Stephan, has an artist's eye, and it shows in this book he created for our grandson, Joseph.  He has published it, in three versions, through Blurb, so anyone may order a copy.

The inspiration was the absolute delight Joseph has shown, from a very young age, in the "math dot cards" from Glenn Doman's How to Teach Your Baby Math program, and his joy in reading books that show an object along with its name.  As you can see, on the left side of the page is the numerical form of a number, with the written form in four languages (English, German, French, and Japanese), while the right side shows the number respresented by red dots.

Now Joseph will be able to examine his beloved dots whenever he likes.

Because there's no getting around the fact that specialty books are expensive, Stephan has produced three versions:

• The premier, full-length edition ($69.95) is hardcover and includes all numbers from zero to one hundred.
• The mid-length edition is less expensive ($47.95), hardcover, and includes all numbers from zero to fifty, plus the tens from sixty to one hundred.
• The bargain edition ($24.95) is softcover and includes all numbers from zero to twenty, plus the tens from thirty to one hundred.

This video was from six months ago, when Joseph was ten months old, but you can see his enthusiasm.

Stephan's Dots in Books page will keep us updated on how Joseph reacts to the book.  You can also leave comments and suggestions there.  Maybe there'll even be a new video some day.

What was Hallowe’en like when you were a little girl, Grandma? 

No one has as yet asked me that question, but if things run true to form for most Americans, someone will, someday, after I am past being able to respond.  So I will answer it now.

My Hallowe’en formative years were in the 1950s and early 60s, in a small village in upstate New York.  Contrary to what we’d like to believe, it was not an idyllic and crime-free time.  One of my first (and worst) Hallowe’en memories was of the teenaged thugs who thundered onto our porch, grabbed our carefully-carved jack-o-lanterns, and smashed them to bits.  I lived a sheltered life:  this was my first view of senseless, wanton destruction; my first encounter with people who get pleasure from breaking the hearts of little children.  Our tiny village did not escape teen gangs and vandalism, which seemed to be more widespread, if much less dangerous, in those days.   At least they attacked property, not people.

That was the only scary thing about our Hallowe’ens.

The most important difference between Hallowe’en then and now is that the occasion was first, last, and always for children.   A few adults dressed in costume for the neighborhood parade and party, but the purpose of the event was to entertain the children.  The only excuse for anyone over 12 going out trick-or-treating was to escort the younger ones—every once in a while a compassionate homeowner would give us a piece of candy, too.  Now, when high schoolers come to my door, I give them candy if they’ve made any attempt at a costume, but I pity them, that at their age they are begging door-to-door for candy instead of helping younger children to have a good time.

On the other hand, teenaged trick-or-treaters is a clear improvement over teenaged vandals.

The Hallowe’en season began several weeks in advance of October 31.  No, not because Hallowe’en stores began popping up all over town, and shelves everywhere sprouted candy in yellow and orange.  Because of the costumes.  Store-bought costumes were largely unavailable, and anyway, who would have wanted one?  Hallowe’en was an occasion for great creativity.  Merely deciding what to be could take a month.  (Decisiveness, I’ll admit, was never my strong suit).  Those who come to our door today are mostly beings—a cat, a princess, a Star Wars character—but we favored things:  one might be a rocket ship, a pencil, or the whole Mad Hatter’s Tea Party (no relation to the present-day Tea Party, as mad—in either sense—as they may be).  The challenge was to create a costume from whatever we could scrounge around the house without actually having to spend money.  No problem—we had not yet forgotten what any five-year-old knows:  the cardboard box is the most universally useful of all materials. (More)

This was just posted on Free-Range Kids, and deserves to go viral.  So I'm doing my part.  The author, Darreby Ambler, is a writer and mother of three from Bath, Maine.

These were the travel rules we used with our kids when they were smaller.  They are now 15, 19, and 21, and travel independently and joyfully around the world. (You can tell from the rules that it wasn’t always this way!  Hang in there, parents!)

Ambler Family Travel Rules and Responsibilities

• It’s good to talk to strangers.  The outside world is full of them.  The place you don’t have to deal with them is at home, which is where people who can’t cope with strangers will stay next time.
• Each traveler is responsible for finding things to be excited about, and sharing that enthusiasm.
• If the enthusiasm of others embarrasses you, pretend otherwise.  Being cool is dull, except in a sports car.
• Unusual foods are part of the point.
• Staying home is usually more comfortable than traveling, but traveling is more interesting.  Prioritize well.
• Travel disruptions are normal and a good way to show your readiness for more challenging adventures.
• Remember that your dislikes do not make interesting conversation.
• Wash your hands.  You have no immunity to foreign germs.  Throwing up is not interesting.
• You have travel in your future that you can not even imagine.  Adhering to these guidelines makes you eligible for such travel.

Modesty:  propriety in dress, speech, or conduct (Merriam-Webster)

It’s an old-fashioned word, uncommon in our hyper-sexualized, push-the-envelope, anything-goes culture.  It even has negative connotations, as when it is associated with oppression of women in Islamic countries, or with certain Christian circles in which women, even young girls at play, wear only long dresses.

But it’s a good word, and a good concept.  We’re not meant to share all that we are with all-and-sundry.   Merriam-Webster’s other definition, freedom from conceit or vanity, gives a hint as to one of its benefits:  modesty focuses our attention away from ourselves.

Perhaps because of the extremes, discussions and practices of modesty almost always focus on matters of dress and behavior:  physical modesty.   To our great loss, we have largely ignored what I will call soul modesty.  What is blogging but baring our souls to anyone with an Internet connection?  What is Reality TV but a striptease in which hope of financial gain entices the few to allow their emotions, weaknesses, and character flaws to be exposed to the ogling many?  How can the reporter’s demand that a grieving mother tell the world how she feels about her child’s murder be considered anything other than verbal rape?

Lest you think this is not a problem if one stays out of the public eye, how much do you know about what happens in your children’s schools, Sunday school classes, day care, and other activities?  As a school volunteer as well as a parent, I came to realize that our young children are frequently subjected to emotional intrusion that, were it physical, would have a teacher out on the street in a heartbeat.  We take great care to teach our children about private parts of their bodies, and how to recognize and report “uncomfortable touches,” but don’t give them the tools to detect and deflect uncomfortable questions or manipulative exercises.

What puzzles me the most is that I find as little respect for soul modesty among those who prize physical modesty as I do in the general community.  It is particularly prevalent in churches, where community, fellowship, and bonding are often forced, rather than being allowed to grow organically from shared life and work.  I had one friend from a former church—a dear, self-sacrificing lady—who not only shared the most intimate details of her own life but pressed others to reveal themselves similarly—all the while thinking she was “just being friendly.”  It was uncomfortable enough talking with her, but downright scary to see her apply the same approach to children.   More than that, she saw it as her duty to be intrusive in this way, and was hurt when others were not similarly “friendly” to her.  And she was hardly unique.  It must be difficult for churches to discern how to be inquisitive enough to appear friendly to some people while not driving others away.

I’ve been to more than one church gathering where crowd dynamics and peer pressure have induced people to make revelations that I’m certain they regretted the morning after, if not immediately.  I mean, what sadist dreamt up the idea of asking, “What was your most embarrassing moment?” as an icebreaker?  To this day I’m embarrassed for some of the things others confessed.  There’s a reason confessional booths are small.

Although they may differ on the particulars, most people will agree that when it comes to physical modesty, relationship and circumstance should guide our behavior.  That slinky nightgown is appropriate to wear for my husband, but not for my neighbor.  Family members may see us in our underwear, but that’s not how we dress for grocery shopping.  Doctors have privileges with our bodies that almost no one else does.

It’s time we took as much care for our souls. 

Who says engineers are nerdy, computer-toting couch potatoes?  Check out this from the New York Times.  (Click on the photo for an explanation.)

Our kids grew up largely ignorant of Sesame Street, and I'm not one bit sorry for that, but this seems to have been written for grandson Joseph.^*  (H/T Pami)

Although I've been a Democrat for every one of my 50 voting years, I've been accused of abandoning the party by voting more often for Republicans than Democrats in recent years.  I've never been a party-liner for any party, but I don't deny the truth of that accusation.  I will plead, however, that it was my party that abandonned me, taking oppositional positions on many of the most important issues, not the least of which is the right and responsibility of parents to direct the education of their own children.

Be that as it may, it gives me pleasure to announce that my hero-of-the-day is a Democrat, the Governor (redux) of California, Jerry Brown.  Why?  Because of what he wrote, refusing to sign into law a bill that would have criminalized, for everyone under 18, skiing or snowboarding without a helmet.  (H/T Free-Range Kids)

I am returning Senate Bill 105 without my signature.

This measure would impose criminal penalites on a child under the age of 18 and his or her parents if the child skis or snowboards without a helmet.

While I appreciate the value of wearing a ski helmet, I am concerned about the continuing and seemingly inexorable transfer of authority from parents to the state. Not every human problem deserves a law.

I believe parents have the ability and the responsibility to make good choices for their children.

I'm not sure which is my favorite line.  It's a tie among "I believe parents have the ability and the responsibility to make good choices for their children," "I am concerned about the continuing and seemingly inexorable transfer of authority from parents to the state," and "Not every human problem deserves a law."

Well done, Governor Brown!  We may disagree on many points, but when you're right, you're right, and I'm happy to celebrate the victory.

If you can read this, thank a teacher.

I've seen it on bumper stickers for years, and just today at the bottom of my Penzey's Spices receipt.  Only now did I finally wake up to the outrageous insult implied by that platitude.

With all due respect to teachers, of which there are some who are great and many, many more who do their jobs very well, how is it that we presume that a child, who requires only a reasonably supportive environment to learn to eat, to crawl, to walk, to understand, to talk, to love, to manipulate his environment—in short to acquire the essential skills of a lifetime in just a few years—how is it that we presume he cannot learn to read—a minor skill compared with all he has already learned—unless someone teaches him?

That's crazy talk.

I'm grateful for all who are willing to share their knowledge with others, and especially for those who make the sharing enjoyable.  I suspect that those who do best, however, are the ones who realize they are not teaching so much as facilitating a child's natural learning.

But that turns out to be much too big an issue to write about just because I was annoyed by a bumper sticker, when I'm surrounded by vacation detritus, my husband is hungry, and I haven't yet managed that shower I promised myself after walking four miles in the 95 degree heat....

This is a mighty sad article.  The British government has issued official guidelines aimed at getting the under-five crowd moving.

The British government says children under five, including infants, should exercise every day. The guidelines recommend children under five be physically active for at least three hours per day, they also say that babies should be doing tummy time or in-swim lessons with their parents to help them gain strength.

Well, good for the British government, if it's really necessary.  Is this the fruit of the back-to-sleep campaign, long rides in car seats, baby swings, strollers, bouncy seats, playpens, walkers, baby videos, and other well- and not-so-well-intentioned interventions?

All the under-fives I know (not to mention more than a few five-and-overs) have no problem whatsoever being active for three hours practically every waking minute each day.  Every mother of a toddler from the creation of the world has no doubt groaned more than once, "If I could only bottle that energy...."

The British government's expressed concern is with the later risk of adult obesity, but if our toddlers must be prodded to be active, we're looking at more of a problem than that.  It's nothing less than a sea change in the development of the human race.

You may remember Michael Merzenich as one of the major researchers mentioned in The Brain that Changes Itself by Norman Doidge.  Merzenich is no doubt a better researcher than a speaker; this lecture is not nearly as good—and certainly not as comprehensive—as the book.  But it will take less than 25 minutes of your time, and is worthwhile if only for his explanation of the dangers of white noise—continuous, disorganized sound—to an infant's brain, and for the hope he holds out to those of us who grew up with the depressing idea that once you reach adulthood (or perhaps early teens, or even age six, depending on who you believe), you are basically stuck with the brain you've got.

Michael Merzenich on re-wiring the brain

(Granchild warning:  I don't know if you consider "crap" objectionable, but there are a few instances between 17:00 and 18:30.)