A Banner Wednesday (with 3 pesky exceptions)

Today is a banner day! I finally figured out that I could adjust my Google settings to maneuver multiple Gmail accounts simultaneously. For nearly 2 years now, I’ve been manually switching back and forth between my 2 accounts, all the while wishing there was a way to keep both open at the same time. Luckily, some smart Google employee also thought of my brilliant idea and—much more brilliantly—figured out how to make it work. It’s a little silly how happy this makes me feel.

Speaking of smart people, did you see the genius kid on Yahoo! News yesterday? Dizzyingly perceptive: http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110329/ts_yblog_thelookout/for-12-year-old-astrophysics-prodigy-the-skys-the-limit.

On a not-so-banner note, Wednesdays I’ve been doing my weekly weigh-ins (violating my New Year’s Resolution to stay off the scale for the first 6 months of 2011). On this particular Wednesday, I am 3 pounds heavier than I was last week. (Sigh!) How does this happen? Sugar and salt are my strongest suspects. Mostly sugar. Sugar is my mortal enemy. OK, that can’t be true—it’s inanimate, it’s neutral. But sugar—or, rather, the over-consumption of sugar—brings out the villain in me, as Pearl so perfectly put it! Moderation is not my strong suit. And so, for today (er, um, for the rest of today), I shall abstain from the ingestion of my mortal enemy!

Speaking of enemies, I meant to mention the other day that Pearl’s use of the term “villains” rather than “bad guys” might have struck some readers as odd. I’m not sure why my kids say “villain” (instead of, say, “scoundrel,” “rascal,” or “thug”), but they do.

And another thing about that post: When Pearl says “what in the hills,” she’s not merely repeating some Southern expression of disbelief (such as “what in the Sam hill…”). No, I’m pretty sure it’s her misinterpretation of the plain-old expletive now known for its abbreviation, WTH. Since Will and I don’t talk that way, she must have heard it on TV, but not quite right—and by-gum, I’m glad!

Quotable Pearl, age 5

A week ago Sunday, Will’s mother and brother came to visit us. For several days beforehand, I’d plotted how and when to clean and de-clutter, and my good intentions had been repeatedly thwarted. The night before their arrival, I was bemoaning my total failure as a housekeeper when this Pearl of wisdom flowed from my 5-year-old’s lips: “Gramma C and Uncle S won’t care about the mess, Mommy. They’ll only care about the children.”

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Yesterday in children’s church, those present reported to us later, Pearl explained the theological concept of temptation to her peers using this analogy: “God is the superhero because he makes all the good things happen. The Devil is the villain because he makes all the bad things happen. When we make bad things happen, we’re all villains, too.” And there you have it, kids—temptation, in a nutshell: Resist the urge to be villainous.

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In keeping with her development as a saint-in-the-making: This morning before school I ran a bath for Pearl—her hair needed washing. I brought a bright pink plastic cup from the kitchen with which to douse her head and she demanded: “What in the hills is that for?!”

Quotable Ben, age almost 7

“How big is Heaven? … Is it bigger than Russia?”

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“My teachers keep saying that I’m kind.”

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Listening to Vi practice her 6^th-grade trombone music: “I know that song – I think it’s by Justin Bieber.”

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Holding the book for bedtime story, so I could nurse the baby while we read:

Mommy: “OK, next page…”

Ben puts his hand to his nose, then turns the page.

Mommy: “Why’d you do that?”

Ben: “I was just sniffin’ my hand – that’s what people do when they turn the page.”

Old haunts, old wastebaskets, and vague-but-vivid dreams about seeing the world (not necessarily in that order)

(I have to be brief because, per usual, I don’t have much time. You might say my free moments come in sound bites these days.)

First, “old wastebaskets.” Well, one. One wastebasket. Today, while rinsing a mustard poop-covered FuzziBunz and leaving it to soak by the utility sink, I realized that I had purchased that particular pink plastic pail in the summer of 1992, anticipating my freshman year of college. And here it is, nearly two decades later, helping me soak my fourth child’s dirty laundry. In the ebb and flow of all the crapola that clutters our middle-class American lives, you never know which stuff’s gonna stick through the years.

Second, world dreams. Maybe it’s because I’m working on an article for my alma mater about alumni living thither and yon. Perhaps it’s because—I confess—I’ve been purposely avoiding excruciating reports of catastrophe and suffering throughout the globe (I already feel too heavy-laden to bear any more burdens than I must). Or maybe it’s because I have been enjoying, vicariously, the youthful adventures of an A-Town college girl currently touring Europe. Whatever the reason, I awoke today with the trail of a vivid, breath-taking, 3-D dream following me into the morning. (Or—ya think?—maybe I just gotta get outta dodge more often than … hardly ever!)

Third, old haunts. A few short years ago I went to see a show at the A-Town Aud. The H.S. Theatre Dept. was presenting Little Women, a wonderful Broadway musical I’d never seen. I wrote about the experience, pre-blog, but I’ve drummed up a way for you to read it here. Meanwhile, the ever-rolling stream rolls on, and last night I sat in the same auditorium, watching in amazement as my own dear daughter took to the stage—and seized it! I felt proud of her performance, but also dazed by my memories. Seeing her hair dangling in long ringlets, her makeup-caked face shining in the spotlight, her black shoes collecting dust from the same wooden floor I once trod … it was a bit like an out-of-body experience. Or another vivid, breath-taking, 3-D dream.

'A lovely night ... a finer night you know you'll never see'

Our Vi takes the stage tonight as Joy-the-snorting-stepsister in the A-Town production of Cinderella (Rodgers and Hammerstein), 7 p.m., Middle School Aud. -- should be fun! (I have stage-mother butterflies...)

Two shows Saturday also, 12 noon and 7 p.m.

Benediction/Invocation of too many to-do's, not enough time, and life, Lent

Much to mull over, consider, pursue--
more than I humanly can.

Lord, help me discern,
decipher and delegate,

decide the dogged:
"to do or not do?"

And then...
Deem the ream of to-do's:
Redeemed!

By the Father of time,
Son of "the hour has come," and the
Spirit of truth in lending--

for truly,
my time is but lent.

As the time of Lent approaches,
reproaching me for frittered minutes:

"Teach me to number my days aright,
that I may gain a heart of wisdom."

Amen.