Of Rats, The Continuing Saga

Well, the most bizarre twist to this story has occurred today.  Earlier, Bridget and I went out into the back yard and noticed our dog, Piper, snuffling excitedly around the perimeter of the garden.  Lo and behold, there in the thicket of tomato plants, was the Rat Himself!  Or, maybe it is actually a field mouse.  Grey, with bright beady eyes and soft-looking fur and a long, skinny tale.

Awfully cute, really.

We’ve spent the day intermittently spotting it as it scurries back and forth from the garden to a certain place under the fence next to a big, flat rock.

Right now, as I write, Piper has dug out some dirt around that area near the fence and is fixedly watching the hole, tail wagging, nose snuffling.  In our neighbor’s yard, on the other side of the fence, our cat Beatrice is stationed. Talk about teamwork!  This is some real-life Wonderpets in action, except that instead of saving baby animals, they’re trying to massacre them.

Bridget is weeping and wailing, “But it’s our family’s rat.  I want to keep him!!” Lucy is pragmatically saying things about “the circle of life.”  And Phoebe is taking an in-between stance, hoping the mouse escapes but pleased that the dog and cat are doing their jobs.

And me?  I’m conflicted.  As frustrated and anxious as I’ve been about the situation, to see that little creature’s terrified eyes and his cute little leap from the garden wall onto the dirt…  well.  I’m a sucker.  I hope he gets away.  But I also hope that this day of terror for him will be enough to keep him far away from my tomatoes.

Of Rats and Other Nighttime Troubles

We planted a vegetable garden for the first time this year, and it has been a lovely experience.  Our tiny suburban yard contains the small, rectangular, chicken-wire enclosed garden quite nicely.  Our tomato plants have been especially healthy and productive with beautiful red ripe tomatoes hanging heavily on each vine.

Recently I noticed, as I picked the warm, ripe fruit, that several of tomatoes had gaping holes in them.  Not the type a worm or caterpillar would make, but huge, half-the-tomato-was-consumed kind of holes.  So my antennae were up to try to figure out what has been happening.

And what has been happening is – a rat.  A thief in the night.  A rodent who slinks into our yard in the darkness, scales the vines that droop over the fence, and feasts nightly on my tomatoes.

Now, if I were the kind of person who easily falls into a deep slumber each night, it would be one thing.  But I’m a bit of a nighttime fretter.  My husband might say more like “nighttime crazy woman.”  I’ve always been more of a night owl, and in the darkness, my senses get sharpened and I’m more on the alert.  And the window by our bed, opened wide to capture the eastern sea breeze (because we have no air conditioning), directly overlooks the garden.  So, my ears are tuned to the possibility of rustling leaves and thievery.

I’ve become a little O.C.D. about this.

The catchy little jazz riff from Ratatouille has been running through my mind as I lay there in bed, imagining a little rat stealthily creeping along in the shadows.  Absurdly, the passage in Matthew has come to mind as I try to put things into perspective.  “Therefore, do not lay up for yourselves treasures (even tomatoes) on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves (even rat-thieves) break in and steal…”  But to no avail.  I have clearly become a control freak about this.

Now, it’s not to say that it’s a terrible thing to be annoyed with this situation.  And I think it’s perfectly reasonable to try to do something about it.  (I’m thinking traps here.)  But the consuming nature of the frustration, yea, even anger that this has aroused in me is out of proportion to the crime.

I’ve even had to sleep on the couch the last couple of nights.   It’s gotten out of hand.

I’ve started coming to grips today with the reality that once again, I am the problem.  And it is a control problem.  Today I’ve been acknowledging and owning the fact that

1. I want to control people.

2. I want to control circumstances.

3. And it just bugs me to death that I. Am. Not. God.

(I heard that “control freak’s mantra” on a recording of a seminar about emotional growth.)

It’s all about embracing my littleness, my inability to really control much in my world, my grieving the loss of that illusion of control while doing the things necessary to be responsible and proactive with things like rats in the garden.  Sigh.  Maybe if I finally learned this lesson of humility God wouldn’t have to keep knocking me over the head with it.

The Light Princess: my review

Geoge MacDonald’s The Light Princess is the book I recently read aloud to my older daughters.   I highly recommend this book as a read-aloud for children.  It is funny and light-hearted (no pun intended) but MacDonald masterfully slips in an amazing story of self-sacrifice, love, and redemption.

It’s the classic tale of a princess born who gets enchanted by an evil witch at her baptism, in this case removing the princess’ gravity.  In a clever twist of imagination, all her gravity is removed – both physical and emotional/spiritual.  She floats around and is in constant danger of being swept away, and she has a hilarity which causes her to never be sad.  She is always laughing and nothing is serious to her.  But her laughter is disturbing, because, as MacDonald puts it, ” in her laugh there was something missing.  What it was, I find myself unable to describe.  I think it was a certain tone, depending upon the possibility of sorrow.”

The princess finds a bit of respite for her gravity-less state in the water.  She loves to swim, and adores the lake near her papa’s castle.  She is more calm and less hysterically-inclined to laugh while she is swimming, “perhaps…because a great pleasure spoils laughing.”   One evening in the lake she meets a prince who thinks she is drowning and jumps in to save her.  Of course, he falls in love with her and they enjoy a nightly swim together for some time, until the crisis of the story occurs:  the lake is being drained of its’ water.  The evil witch who cursed her as a baby is behind this mischief; she has bewitched a hole to be made in the under-cavern of the lake.  The whole nation begins to suffer a drought and everyone’s health is threatened.  Most urgent is the princess’ life, as she is pining away without her beloved water in which to swim.  The witch reveals what will allow the lake to be replenished… “the body of a living man can alone stanch the flow.  The man must give himself of his own will; and the lake must take his life as it fills…”

The prince steps forward resolutely, and the account of his willing self-sacrifice before the very eyes of the Light Princess is a tender tale, indeed.  I will not give away the ending, but it is very satisfying.

The girls loved it.  I tried not to be too preachy after I finished it, because I think it is so crucial for the story to tell its own tale, based on what is in the heart of the listener.  Suffice it to say, though, that Lucy said, “This would be a great story for a Literature Circle at school, because I think there is a lot to think about and talk about with it.”  And Phoebe said, “I think it sort of teaches a lesson, that if something needs to be done, it is right to be the one to step up and do it, even if it is scary.”

I nodded and smiled.  And I encouraged them to think of the story and its meaning as they went to sleep last night.  I may ask in a day or so what thoughts they came up with.  In the meantime, I’m thinking George MacDonald is pretty awesome, and am wondering if The Golden Key might be a good one to start tonight.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Disappointment

Okay, so I shouldn’t write to rant about the latest Harry Potter movie, since I am usually super-critical of movies made from books.  But I had higher hopes for this one, having read (and heard) some positive reviews.

Aside from all the details that the movie ommitted or altered from the book, I just thought the film moved so SSLLOOWWWLLYY….  In fact, as a friend with whom I saw it commented as we were leaving the theatre Monday night, “Wait, did I miss work on Tuesday?”   It just felt that long.

A few gripes:  This book is one of my favorites in the series, because of the richness of the friendship between Harry and Dumbledore.  All of the significant, poignant conversations between the two of them in the books – completely missing in the film.  I think Michael Gambon was a little better and more soft in this film, which was an improvement, but he just isn’t Dumbledore for me, and his death was a relief, no tears involved.  I can’t get through reading that section in the book without bawling my eyes out.

Ginny.  The girl playing her is cute enough, but lacks all of Ginny’s feisty-ness and charm from the books.  What happened to the “hard, blazing look” in her eyes as she greets Harry after the Quidditch match for their big moment?

Another thing has been bothering me as I think of the movie, and I don’t know if this is a legitimate gripe against the movie or just an observation on cultural differences.   I know this is a story about British people, and the British (while I adore the accent) do seem more reserved in their conversations and tone than we loud-mouthed Americans.  Is this why the conversations, especially between the trio, seem so cold and formal?  I just imagine them so much warmer and affectionate, somehow.  But maybe the trouble is simply that I’ve been reading them in American, not British. 

I do have to say, I liked Slughorn a lot, though he didn’t look quite like I imagined.  And I think Tom Felton did an amazing job at playing Draco in this film.  I felt moved with pity for the plight that Draco found himself in.  And I think the lady who plays Bellatrix is awesome.  Creepy and delighting in chaos for its’ own sake.

I chuckled at some of the romance woes between all the teens in the film, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when the inferi went after Harry, even though I thought I was bracing myself for that shock.  But otherwise, it felt slow and boring, and that gave me all the more opportunity to compare and contrast the movie with the book, and as usual, the movie didn’t fare nearly as well.

Hair

All three of our children have been blessed with great hair.  Thick and shiny and lustrous.  Recently they’ve gotten into combing each others’ hair, trying to see how silky they can get it.  The comber and combee alike seem to enjoy it.  Lucy was washing her tonight when I snapped this photo of the younger two “doing hair.”  

Underestimating Children

I am working my way through a book called Free Range Kids by Lenore Skenazy.  I will do a more thorough review of it when I actually finish, but this idea keeps bumping around in my brain and I wanted to blog about it to help process my thinking.

Basically the author challenges the widespread notion that “nowadays” are a lot more dangerous for children.  She goes through statistics and examines the origins of our worried, “helicopter parenting” generation.  And she does it with a ton of spunk and humor.

The idea I’m thinking of as I read it is the concept of “underestimating children.”

Skenazy writes, “…If we try to prevent every possible danger or difficulty in our child’s everyday life, that child never gets a chance to grow up.”

“Our kids are more competent than we believe, and they are whole lot safer, too.  We are extremely worried today about exceedingly unlikely disasters.”

“We want our children to become fine, upstanding adults, but in some ways we treat them as long as possible as sweet, silly babies.”

This is a small sampling of the ideas in Free Range Kids and many of Skenazy’s points are encased in laugh-out-loud stories and antecdotes.  But this concept of underestimating children is one that has particularly grabbed my attention.

I can’t help but think (obsessive fan that I am!) of Harry Potter, and how JK Rowling showed exasperation at parents’ concerns that reading her fictional series would cause children to want to become witches.  In The Tales of Beedle The Bard she also pokes fun at such sentiment with a character who re-wrote all the fairy tales to protect the poor children’s imaginations from any fear or gruesome detail.  As if literature isn’t one of THE safest places for children to experience fear and loss and reality!

(I am feeling too lazy to get up and find my copy of Beedle and give an exact quote.  But I remember it being there.)

And I’m reminded of some parenting books I have (especially my favorite, Raising Great Kids) that talks about envisioning your children’s habits and tendencies 30 years into the future and grasping the fact that the job of parent is supposed to be a temporary one where you work yourself out of a job.  The goal is independent children.

Okay, so now that I have all that typed out, the Harry Potter bit seems a bit out of place, but it’s been part of my jumbled brain waves recently and fits in the category of underestimating children.  So I’m leaving it in.

(I’m also wishing that Dave and I were going to the Harry Potter conference in San Fransisco this weekend, so I’ve got HP on the brain.  But that’s another story.)

More to come about the “Free Range Kids” philosphy once I’ve finished the book…

A Night at the Zoo

Our family took a spontaneous trip to the San Diego Zoo the other night.

It was super-fun!  We haven’t been in ages; we usually frequent the Wild Animal Park, which is closer to our home.

Here are a couple of photos taken in the new Elephant Odyssey.

Extra Children

I have had some grieving to do.  I realized (anew) last week that I am not the kind of mother who can have five extra children in my house for the day and be okay with it.  I want to be the kind of person that can take things in stride and be laid back and embrace the chaos with a calm smile.

But I’m not.

Last week I was watching two of my nieces every day.  They are wonderful children, and the confusion and noise level was manageable.  I mostly had to deal with the drama of Bridget feeling left out since she’s three years younger than the youngest and just can’t quite keep up.

But one day last week, I also volunteered to watch three of a friends’ kids for the afternoon (who are all very nice children too),  and eight children in the house was hard for me.

All the children were at swimming lessons at the same time, and the plan was for me to take them all home with me for a few hours until their mothers could pick them up.

One of the kids had brought chocolate chip cookies to share with everyone.  So, we kicked off the chaos with the eight of them arguing and scrabbling for chocolate chip cookies.  I was trying to dry off the two youngest ones and get them into clothes while listening to the cookie arguments.  Then the kids all started bickering about who was going to sit next to whom in the car.  There were tears shed.

This all happened in the first five minutes that they were all under my jurisdiction.

I was feeling beleagured already, and trying to direct the older kids to gather up their towels, put on their flip flops, pack up their cookie bags and throw away their trash.  No one seemed to be listening to me.  And over my attempts to get order in this group so we could get on our way, Bridget was repeating in a loud determined voice, “I want more cookies!  I want more cookies!”

I snapped a little.

I didn’t scream, but I cupped my hand under my precious Bridget’s chin and said quietly, “You need to be quiet,” and I squeezed her little chin and had a fierce look in my eye.

She burst into tears.

I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad playdate.

Actually it wasn’t.  I got all the kids home, and lunch and playing and squabbling and fun ensued.  But I was a little rattled the whole time.  On the edge.  Worried that something beyond my control was about to break out.

I’ve been realizing lately that for the past ten years, since Lucy was born, I’ve spent most of my weekdays in a state of mild panic.  I didn’t realize it, of course.  But just as Lucy moved into the slightly more predictable and settled stage of preschooler, Phoebe was born.  And then four years later, Bridget.  And in retrospect, having a small child in the home makes me a little panic-y.  You just never know what will happen, and YOU are responsible for it.  These little human beings are entirely dependent on you.

Just writing those words sends a shiver down my spine.

So I’m starting to move out of the “mild panic” stage of parenting, and it’s been so nice to breathe deeply and enjoy being with my children on a different, more settled level.

But adding five more to the mix definitely moved me back into “panic” mode.  Not severe, but not mild either.

When Dave got home from work and saw the slightly deranged look in my eye, he suggested I get out of the house alone for a bit.  I gratefully accepted this offer and spent a couple of hours browsing Barnes and Noble, getting back my peace.

I would watch all those kids again, but with the knowledge and awareness that it will be a bit frazzling for me.  Sigh.  I will not shrink back from self-knowledge, by the grace of God.

Book Review: Where’s My Teddy?

Okay, it’s a little lame to review this picture book and try to pass it off as a real blog post, but I read this book to Bridget tonight and realized, “I love this book.”  And it has a small story about how it came to be in our family.

When Lucy was a toddler we moved to Wheaton, IL so that Dave could do a Master’s Degree program at Wheaton College.  (Phoebe was born during our stint in Wheaton.)  I remember taking those children to the Glen Ellyn Public Library often, especially in the winter when any outdoor activity was pretty near impossible.  I cannot stand being cold.  Therefore, although I love Wheaton College and that area of the country, I was so glad to move back to San Diego when Dave completed his program.

We packed up and moved out and drove across the country to a temporary apartment while our house was being finished.  (This was seven years ago.)  Most of our belongings went into a storage unit and all of our forwarded mail went to my in-laws house.  It was there that I received a notice from the Glen Ellyn Public Library that our book was overdue:  Where’s My Teddy? by Jez Alborough.  Uh, oh.  I knew that book was in some random box in the back of the storage unit that we wouldn’t be unlocking for several months still.  I phoned the library and explained, and sent them a check to purchase the book.

I’m so glad it was this book that I was forced to purchase from the library.  It’s a great story.  Beautiful, funny pictures.  A readable, rolicking rhyme that I haven’t yet grown tired of reading to all my children.  It’s got irony and a great little lesson of seeing things from a different perspective.  And I’ve come up with a great voice for the Bear.  The girls love it.  And it is so sturdily bound in library binding that I think it will be in our family for generations to come!

Summer Tales

Summer has begun!  We started off with a bang – Phoebe celebrated her 8th birthday on the last day of school, and Bridget had her’s on July 1.  We’ve been to the beach three times, my parents’ pool three times, and the San Diego County Fair.  We’ve had a sleepover here, and I got to take another “mom’s trip” with some dear girlfriends a few weekends back.  Lucy spent a week helping at her riding teacher’s horsecamp, and Phoebe’s had a few playdates, including a trip to the waterpark.

Despite the fullness of the fun calendar, the kids have paved the roads of boredom and bickering already.  Especially the two younger girls.  Man, can that be tiresome to listen to!

I’ve been reading for fun, too.  I read a book called The Restorer, a Christian science fiction work which I alternately enjoyed and thought was cheesy.  I’ve re-read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince along with other patrons at the Hogs’ Head Blog, in anticipation of the movie.  (I really have a problem with seeing movies that have been made from books.  They always get so much wrong,  and things don’t look how I imagine them, and I know cinema is a different media and things have to be somewhat different, but I think I’m too much of a book nerd to be able to embrace the differences!!  I always swear, “Never again.” when I see a from-book movie, and I always see them anyway so I don’t feel left out of life and conversation, bit I generally regret it.)   I’m also working my way through Raising Great Kids again, which I find such a helpful “road map” to remembering what I’m trying to accomplish in this crazy endeavor known as…parenting.

I felt like I had to do a quick catch-up post, so that I can now resume the usual fare of thought-provoking, excellent writing that you are all used to. 

See you soon!