Current Haps

Besides being an epic weekend of honey-do's, general conference weekend is a good time for retrospection.  And so it struck me that it's been a while since we posted some of our current pictures and such.

Eden has started a preschool group with a few families in the ward - needless to say, she's ecstatic!  A few months ago Sam started tutoring a neighbor kid in English, and each time she came over Eden had to do her own schoolwork too.  Preschool is a big hit.

Jude has a real affinity for sitting in laps.  And reading.  These days, he'll frequently bring a book to Sam or me, turn around, and plop himself down.  He'll even settle for stuffed animal laps when no others are available.

Eden is a fish.  There's no other explanation.  Generally she won't ask or tell us, and then we'll find that she's stripped nude and found a puddle, pool, or water bucket.  This is a rare time when we suited up properly for some swimming.

We're glad to be a family and thankful that we understand God's plan of happiness.  Hope you enjoyed conference and such.

Recent Reads

Is it just me, or have I not posted about my reading material in a LONG time?  Been a bit busy!  And yet I've read a surprising number of beefy books.  (Remember how devastated I was to leave Ogden just as the Wendy and Sam Book Club was getting started?  While I still think it's a shame that Wendy had to stay behind, I have been blessed with a new book club here: The Boring Book Club for People Who Like to Write Essays, or BBC for short.) Huzzah! 

Half of the Sky, by Kristof and WuDunn
5/5 It's hard to think about the many tragedies that are commonplace in some parts of the world (and sometimes closer to home), but this book is a worthy read.  I especially appreciated that the authors discuss solutions and organizations that are making a difference.

Utopia, by St. Sir Thomas Moore
4/5 It was surprisingly interesting to read this blast from roughly five hundred years past.  I think the thing that got me the most was how many of the questions we struggle with today in attempting to improve our societies are the same as the questions people struggled with back then.  The details of our reality have changed a lot, but it seems we still haven't answered some really fundamental questions. 

The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand
4/5 Oh man.  Where to begin with her?  I LOVE the way she celebrates individuality and integrity and straight up hard work.  I LOATHE her representation of women, her ridiculously unreal dialogue, and her total disregard for charity.  That being said, it was an interesting read and I'm glad I gave it the time.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua
2/5  Grrr.  She has so many great points to make (like how people develop real self esteem through accomplishment not compliments, or how it's essential that we believe our children are capable of amazing things).  I found myself agreeing with Chua's philosophy most of the time.  And then I was immediately horrified by her implementation of said philosophy.  Example: Threatening to burn all of her child's toys and then throwing the girl out onto the porch in freezing weather because she doesn't play a piano piece perfectly after three hours of practice in one day (did I mention that her daughter was only 3?).  Is there a way to be demanding but not abusive?  Anyone? 

Freedom Summer, by Bruce Watson
3/5 I studied the civil rights movement pretty extensively in college (thank you, history minor), but this was a good refresher course on the summer of 1964 in Mississippi.  I did find the author to be annoyingly dramatic, but it's a pretty decent read. 

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman, by Robert K. Massie
4/5 My knowledge of Russian history from Czar Nicholas II on is pretty good (thank you, Russian novels course), but I previously knew nothing from before that time.  I thus really enjoyed this biography as it was also a primer for Enlightenment European politics, Russian serfdom, and the roots of the contemporary Ukraine/Russia debacle.  It was also a pretty juicy gossip fest of the strictures of courtesan life, the royal bed, and an Emperor who played with toy soldiers as a grown man.  Scintillating stuff, I assure you.

Matched, Crossed, and Reached, by Ally Condie
3/5  I'm never really going to hop on the old dystopian YA train, but this was a fair series as the genre goes and it was interesting to read it in the context of seeking to understand the wider genre's current appeal.  Decent brain candy.

These is my Words, Nancy Turner
5/5  This is a great little book.  A "journal" of a woman's life in the Arizona Territory during Geronimo's stand, there are very few dull pages, a good deal of poignant ones, and a sweet little romance. I would definitely recommend this for a recreational read. 

The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green
1/5  I really shouldn't read teen fiction.  Especially not beloved teen fiction.  It's not written for me and so it's no surprise that I don't love it and then all I've done is puked on something someone else loves.  So it is again.  Sorry.  But please tell me that we all knew how this ended.  We did, right?  Frankly, I didn't find the journey to that destination all that insightful or enjoyable.  If you like sad, predictable books, bon appetite.       

For Kris (who generally doesn't love poetry, but whom I dearly love)

Litany

        You are the bread and the knife,
        The crystal goblet and the wine...
        -Jacques Crickillon

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.

--Billy Collins

To My Sister, On the End of her Freedom and the Beginning of Liberty

Pretty fancy title, eh?  Can't lie, I'm pretty proud of it.  I do so love a good pun.  Or a bad pun.  Any pun, really.  Onward.

A few days ago my amazing little sister had her first baby.  Liberty, aka Libby, the cutest little girl ever born to the Robinson family on July 4th, 2014.  Seriously, she blows the competition away.  It's not even close. Oodles of dark hair, long fingers, a sweet little gassy smile.  She's a doll!  I'm already in love with her and we've never met.  She's a lucky little stinker to have two loving parents who I know will do everything that they can for her.  It's going to be so fun watching their little family develop. 

As far as big sisters go, I was pretty worthless during Sierra's pregnancy.  You know.  She was all like, "Hey, blah blah blah gross thing just happened to me.  Is that normal?  What should I do?"  And I was all, "Hey, yeah, I've never seen a sheep do that, so? Um...check the internet? Watch a chick flick?  No? Good luck."  But now that this baby is here?  I got this!  Brace yourself, sister.  Unsolicited advice INCOMING!

1) Do not park in the spot nearest the store.  This is what idiots do.  Park in the spot closest to the cart return stall.  You will thank me when you are not schlepping Libby's car seat into the store or between the car and the cart return stall.  It just makes sense.

2) Skip the milestones charts: they are the stuff of insomnia and the useless tearing of hair.  Look up early warning signs for developmental delays.  If Libby isn't exhibiting those signs, she's fine.  If she is, get some interventions.  (And she's still fine.)

3) You will tend to think that every amazing thing Libby does is a direct result of your excellent parenting.  It is not.  She would have learned to poop like that with even the basest of parents.  Sorry, but it is true.  This is a good thing to know, because you will also be inclined to fear that every "wrong" or "slow" thing she does is a direct result of your crappy parenting.  It is not.  I can't say that parents have no influence over their kids, but just don't let it all go to your head--or your heart.  Do the best you can to love and provide for Libby and don't think too much about what it all says about you as a parent.  It's not about you.  Keep that in mind. 

4) This too shall pass.  Repeat it.  Then repeat it again.  Give yourself about a year and you'll be amazed at how much of yourself you have back.  Plus (major bonus!) you'll also have the joy that a toddler brings.  No sarcasm.  Toddlers are far cuter than babies.  Trust me on this.  In a few months you will look back at what you were sure were the cutest pictures of the cutest baby ever and be shocked to discover instead that they depict a hideous alien.  Infants just get cuter with age.  A strange but real phenomenon. 

5) Sleep.  This is the oldest advice ever given to new mothers.  There's a reason for that.  Sleep.

6) Speaking of sleep...  If going without it for weeks on end turns you into a homicidal maniac in your mind, this is normal and expected.  I recommend limiting access to dangerous weapons in the middle of the night.  Lock up the pillows (too tempting for smothering your sleeping husband) and hide the Prius keys.  Ok?  Nobody needs you running down innocents in the Walgreen's parking lot. 

7) Ask people for advice.  You are not the first mother in this world and there is absolutely no sense in re-inventing the nappy. 

8) Ignore whatever advice you don't like.  I've been a mother for three years.  Your mother-in-law has been at it for 27 years.  Your mother has 35 years beneath her belt.  The old lady at church has a son twice your age.  The expert mother glaring at your shrieking kid in Walmart and judging your ratty pajamas hasn't had kids yet. For all of our combined wisdom, none of us has been Libby's mommy for so much as a single minute.  You will always hold the expert card where she is concerned.  Whip that sucker out as needed! 

9) Learn to love minutia.  You won't have time to sit around all day worshipping Liberty's feet.  You will have many, many loads of laundry to do.  At first you will spend upwards of six hours per day just sitting in a chair feeding Libby.  Another hour will be for nothing more than wiping that glorious little butt.  In your spare time you'll need to scrounge up something for yourself to eat, carve out a few slender wedges of sleep, and possibly shower (but only on every third "I stink so much I'm making myself nauseous" day).  The times when you offer up these often tedious details as precious gifts of love will be the times when you are most happy.

10)  If you are still reading this, then I suspect that you are not paying enough attention to brilliant piece of advice #5. This might be in support of point #8, but I think it's a gross misapplication.  Seriously, just go to sleep already!    

I'm a proud big sister and auntie.  Sierra, you done good.  Keep it up.  Libby, I'm coming for you in a few weeks!  So is Eden. I'll try to protect you, but I make no guarantees.   
  

1

Jude.  Did you know that his name means "praise" or "thanks"?  I had a moment not too long ago with our little man that just about overwhelmed me.  He was having a hard time sleeping (a rarity, but it occasionally happens) and I had gone in to comfort him during the night.  As he settled down and went limp in my arms, our hearts lined up perfectly, separated by only an inch or two of muscle and bone.  Together, they beat.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  I blessed each one of those beats, little chimes sounding to the miracle that is every moment I get to spend with my son, the miracle that we exist for each other at all.  Jude is so precious to me.  Thanks-thanks.  Thanks-thanks.

Don't let the angel face fool you: Jude is mischief incarnate. He loves going into a room by himself and closing the door so that he can be alone in his crimes.  Usually this means turning on the faucet in our bathtub so he can splash in the water, but it can also be a ploy for tearing down the blinds, undoing my crochet, pulling all of the wipes from the case, or emptying a dresser drawer.  He loves to play outside, where he can eat dirt from our garden, chomp on sidewalk chalk, pull the leaves off of our stripling peach tree, or shoot himself in the face with the hose.  He's been known to play out there alone for half an hour (with his nervous mama watching the whole time from the window) and to run (i.e. crawl like lightning) away from anyone who tries to cut his man time short. 

Jude isn't walking yet, but he is immensely proud of the steps he takes to chase Mama with Daddy securely holding his hands.  It won't be long.  Heaven help Earth!  For now he really is a crazy good crawler and general shooter of furniture gaps.  He once climbed up onto our fireplace and lodged himself beneath a plant stand (good thing Eden came to get me from the shower...the boy was in a real pickle!). 

Speaking of Eden...her love for Jude is unwavering and knows no bounds.  Like, really, she knows know boundaries of personal space.  At least once daily I have to sweetly remind her to stop squishing his guts out as he screams and she squeezes harder while issuing comforting reassurances like, "It's ok, Jude, I got you!"  Jude is definitely our little introvert and needs some bubble respect.  Beyond that, he adores his sister.  He loves watching the fun things she can do.  They are also starting to play together and it melts my heart.  It also usually ends in unintended tears.  A couple of nights ago they spent twenty glorious minutes taking turns face planting into a pile of pillows and shrieking with joy.  Then they stopped taking turns.  Oiy!  I'm just glad that they are buddies, head bonks and all. 

Jude currently has four teeth and uses them to eat everything in sight.  He prefers bold flavors to bland and loves best tortillas, pizza, whole wheat bread, spaghetti, bananas, tofu, strawberries, beans, applesauce, curry, and spicy lentils.  Sometimes we are not sure where he puts it all.

 

Congratulations on your first year, little man!  We love you like crazy and can't wait to see all that you learn and do in the next twelve months!

3

Three years ago an incredible little person was born.  Back then we just knew that we loved her.  We had no reasons but her existence, no reciprocation but in dirty diapers and midnight cries.

At three, Eden is true to her name: delightful.  Strangers, friends, acquaintances at church, checkers at the grocery store, all seem to have the same comment about her, "Look at that smile.  Is she ever anything but happy?"  The answer, of course, is yes.  Sometimes Eden is sad and sometimes she is cranky.  Sometimes she wants to go the park and not go to the park at the SAME time.  There are occasional meltdowns and fits, tantrums and whines.  She's little.  But my goodness her smile is huge.  Frequent.  Sweet as pie.  Free for all. Our sweet Eden is gifted with the ability to love.  She is soft, gentle, and ecstatic in her greetings to puppies, babies, missionaries, old ladies, little boys...basically everyone and everything.  She is generally a little shy at first, but there is simply no hiding the warmth of her heart. 

She is also a silly little goose.  One of Eden's favorite games (something she has loved to do since she was a baby) is scowling at me until I scowl back at her and we both burst out laughing.  She thinks it's hilarious to throw grass/water/balls/whatever into the air and then shout, "Summer!" (could it be that she thinks she is Olaf...?).  She loves building towers for Jude to knock down, putting puzzles together, driving like a madwoman on Thomas Train, climbing all over cabinets, tables, chairs, etc., going for walks, snuggling with Hunter, swinging, swimming, anything with Daddy, playing in the sand, pouring water from container to container, reading, doing somersaults, dancing like Elaine from Seinfeld (she's totally unaware),  doing Ring-Around-the-Rosies, and mothering her babies.  She loves worms and generally despises all other forms of bug life.

Eden's language abilities have exploded this year.  She's an incredible little parrot, often delivering to me verbatim the lectures she's heard me give to her.  Things like, "Mama, remember to share toys and be kind," and "Remember to use the potty.  It will make you feel happy," or "I need some exercise.  It's healthy for my body."  (Before you go giving me the Mom of the Year Award, you should know that Eden uses this last one as justification for a lot of things.  Like candy for breakfast, filched from our junk drawer after figuring out the child lock.  "Mama, look!  I got candy!  Don't worry; it's healthy for my body.")  She counts to twenty (but really only to four...after that it's just recitation), knows all of her colors, sings the "Alphabet Song" and numerous Primary songs in glorious tone-deafness, and loves to repeat nursery rhymes with actions.  When she helps me weed she shouts, "Get out of my garden!" so that the weeds know to let her beloved peas grow in peace. 

She's always loved peas, and seems likely to stand the test of time.  Her other current favorites are oatmeal, cherries, almonds, craisins, spinach, noodles, pizza, broccoli, apples, mushrooms, chips, chocolate, cheese, and Nutella toast.  When I asked her what she wanted for her special birthday dinner, she replied, "Um, how about we have a super special dinner?  Would that be ok?"  I could get nothing more specific than that. At least she's easy to please!

We feel so incredibly blessed by her integral presence in our family.  She has brought a light that shines more brightly each day.  We love you, big three-year-old girl!

Oh My Azaleas!

When we first moved here we also heard a lot about the Norton Art Gallery.  Art.  Gallery.   Let's be honest...we live in Louisiana.  I wasn't in much of a rush to check out what I was certain would be nothing.  Nothing?  Mary Cassatt.  Charles Marion Russell.  Rodin.  I guess if you call that nothing, then sure.  It turns out we have a fantastic art gallery here in town, owned and operated (free to the public!) by the wealth of an old oil family. We've visited it a few times now and Eden loves looking at the paintings and sculptures.  Jude doesn't seem to care much, but that's a baby for you. 

Our most recent adventure at the Norton was to enjoy their forty acre grounds.  I've been stalking them on the gallery's live "azalea cam" and the moment was finally right.  (Not one word about my nerdiness, or I swear I'll punch you right through this computer screen.) Man alive!  It was an incredible fairy land of azaleas.  Take a look...

I'm sorry that these pictures don't even begin to do the grounds justice.  There are so many gorgeous sculptures and water features and waves and waves of flowers that I just didn't catch.  Come visit me sometime and I'll show you what I mean.  Don't worry...I won't even tell anyone if you scope things out on the azalea cam first!

Jude kept busy with graham crackers...can you see the crumbs?

Did I mention that we were lucky enough to have my excellent friend Karissa and her adorable little guy along for the fun?  We've been really blessed with neat friends here (of our own age!  kind of exciting, though we do miss all of the grandparents Ogden had to offer...)

 
Although I'm sure we will pay many more visits to the Norton Gallery in the meantime, I'm already counting down the months until next year's azalea party.  We live in a beautiful place.  That makes me happy.