Oh Fine, I'll Go There: Ferguson

As an adult, I've never paid for TV service.  Ever.  For the most part that's because I don't usually care what's on TV, though it's also closely tied to the fact that I'm so tight my appendix squeaks.  (Random side note: If you ever need spare cash, it's a great idea to ransack my house.  Since childhood I've been known to stash coins and bills in every conceivable nook.  I'm a hoarder of money.  It's a disease. Pity me.)  Currently we have an antenna in our attic, which streams just enough free channels to keep up with Downton Abbey come January.  I wish that I'd taken the simple step of turning on a news channel last night instead of following the Ferguson mess through a news station's Twitter feed.  Why?  Oh, why?  I made my bed.  Now I must curl up into the fetal position and cry myself to sleep on it with the following lessons learned...

1) Twitter makes me ashamed of the whole human race (to bum a phrase from Huck Finn).  Death threats.  Monkey emoticons.  Race bait cannonballs lobbed from every direction.  Incredible ignorance.  Frightening malice.  This is what humanity seems to be in 140 characters or less #nofilter.

2) Our legal system has never been perfect.  Juries are not perfect.  I'd still far and away rather face a jury of my peers who have to sit and listen to evidence than fall prey to society's heir apparent: trial by social media.  More thinking, less typing people!

3)  "If you don't agree, then just unfollow me right now."  (Because, you know, we should only ever interact with people who share our exact view point.  That will solve our societal divides!  Also, I'm still in Jr. High and you're off my friend list.)

4) "Ugh.  No one cares about Ferguson.  Why are you interrupting Dancing With the Stars?" Or, in the words of Ani DiFranco,  "What kind of scale compares the weight of two beauties, the gravity of duties...tell me, what kind of equation could I possibly employ?"  I mean, really.  It's pretty tough to decide between two critically important things.  Nah.  Just kidding.  Who needs civil rights with the mirrorball trophy on the line? 

5) We've go a LONG way to go before humanity can claim to have built a single CIVILization.

Sleeping in Hotels With Jude

It's the worst.  No matter what we do.  Something of a misnomer as well, as Eden is the only one who actually sleeps.  Kris and I take turns pacing the floor with a flailing, terrified, sobbing, 30 pound toddler.  And then we take turns driving around whatever town we're in.  All night long.  Love the boy.  Hate the nights.     

So I'm not quite sure how we worked up the guts to brave Ebola and sleeping in a hotel with Jude (mostly the latter) to take a little vacation to Dallas a few weeks ago.  I guess I just really wanted the kids to see a real zoo and I was pretty desperate to get to the temple.

Jude loved the penguins and the ultra close giraffes, but was largely unimpressed with almost everything else.  He spent most of his time eating animal crackers in the stroller or splashing around in the stream at the kid's area.  So, win.

Eden discovered her heaven on earth.  I love this picture.  First she shook the statue's hand, then she pulled a classic Eden move and went for the baby.  This girl was born to have twelve babies.  (In fact, she often has at least half that many at home, all needing fed, changed, rocked and loved.  Her pretend world is a busy place!) 
 

See that look on Kris's face?  That wasn't for Eden's sake.  The man was giddy in his own right to be hugging a bronze monkey. 

We had a marvelous time at both zoo and temple and also did not contract Ebola.  We did still wind up sleeping in a hotel with Jude.  It was as awful as we thought it would be; I don't think we'll try it again for a long while.  I leave you with this tortoise, a Master Oogway if you will, reminding us all to seek inner peace. (Not to belabor the point, but you won't find it in a hotel with Jude.  That is all.)  

Cypress Zoo

Today I took the kids to the local zoo.  As in the place where they keep exotic things like pigs, deer, donkeys, peacocks and an alligator on display. Eden loved it.  Jude was beside himself with cage-rattling, finger pointing joy.  I think it was extra fun for him because we've been reading a lot of books with these animals in them and he's learning their names and today he got to see that those pictures represent real things. At any rate, it was definitely a morning well spent.

Easily Eden's favorite animal every time is this big, fat cat that roams the grounds.

It was cool and rainy this morning, so Eden got to rock the leggings and wellies look.  She currently refuses to wear anything but skirts and dresses.  It could be a long life.

This deer and turkey were cracking me up.  They were every bit as interested in Jude as he was in them.  Kind of makes you wonder who comes to see whom at the zoo...

I don't know how I managed to avoid taking a picture of the signs posted every three feet, loudly proclaiming that all of the animals bite.  

Since I'm a really good mom, I let my kids touch the animals anyway.  No biting ensued.  Plenty of kissing.

Can you believe how big these kids of mine are?  I love everything about them.  How lucky I am to be their mama and get to have fun adventures like this.

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.