FDA warning

Beware the now-functional, but still-being-remodeled kitchen that houses these similarly packaged items at once:

(marshmallow creme and vinyl spackling)

Fudge, anyone?

Preschool outline: Trains, Letter Ii

Here is my latest preschool recap and outline. Recap, because I'm posting this after Tuesday's class -- these days, that's how I roll. I did have it all in my head, of course. We had a lot of fun!

Monthly theme: Transportation
Weekly topic: Trains
Letter Ii, number 11

Tuesday

Gathering activity: words printed on an envelope, with corresponding letters printed on individual cards inside. Encourage each child to arrange the cards and spell the word on her envelope.

Calendar/weather report. Sing days of week song (to "Clementine").

Introduce letter I and its sounds.
Our preschool uses a big flip chart of song lyrics, one song for each letter of the alphabet. Before singing the song, pretend index finger is an inch worm (curve up, then down). Finger-walk the text of the song, asking children to shout "stop!" when I get to a word that begins with I or i.

Read R. M. Schneider's Add it, Dip it, Fix it, an alphabetical exploration of the many things you can do to the word "it."

Workbook practice writing I.

Display a toy train and discuss trains, their different uses and parts. Read books about trains. Encourage children to share their experiences seeing or riding trains. Ask: can trains go anywhere they want? Could they arrive in your driveway? Talk about the significance of the track.

Use prepared worksheet of a train with sections of the track missing. Hmm, what shape could make the tracks? Ah-hah! The letter I. (It probably took me longer to write about this worksheet than it did to draw all the copies, it's that basic.)

Tell children that the cars of a train are connected in a chain, just like paper loops can be connected. Practice writing numbers 1-12 on paper strips for a advent chain we'll complete Thursday.

Gross motor activity: outside, walk across two 2x4s placed side by side, like a railroad track. Encourage children to do this while connected to each other.

Singing time with alphabet song and "Wheels on the Train" variation.
Story time: My Little Train by Satomi Ichikawa, with animal sounds for children to mimic; If ... by Sarah Perry, a family fave. Encourage children to come up with their own "if" scenarios.

Social studies lesson: introduce the culture of the Inuit people through Mama, Do You Love Me? by Barbara M. Joosse and Barbara Lavallee.

Finish by building "igloos" of half an apple spread with peanut butter and topped with marshmallows.

Thursday


Gathering activity: Continue working on numbers 13-25 for advent chain.

Calendar/weather. It's a new month! Who has a birthday this month?

Have children help pour ingredients into ice cream maker. Make a show of bringing out ice cube from freezer and leaving it in bowl in room (for science lesson below).

Fine motor activity: Use small round stickers to dot the lower case "i"s in a simple sentence I'll type out.

Finish advent chains. Possibly make picture ornament. (I took everyone's pictures Tuesday but haven't come up with anything other than a canning ring presentation. Anyone?)

Outside play.

Science lesson: What has happened to ice cube? Talk briefly how temperature affects physical state. Eat ice cream!

Read The Little Engine that Could by Watty Piper and Imogene's Antlers by David Small. Afterwards decorate paper antler crown (made of what else? Two upper case "I"s). Encourage children to imagine how they would use antlers if they had them.  (Thanks, Katrina, for reminding me of this book.)

All dressed up

Andie and Katie, this one's for you ...

The other day I went to the Deseret Industries thrift store, that treasure trove of do-it-yourself Halloween expression.

Reliably, right at the front, was a long rack of costumes and accessories. I filed through it. I found cowboy gear and bears and bats and Frankenstein's monster (not to be confused with simply Frankenstein, who as Emma likes to remind us, was the name of the scientist who created the monster -- a distinction I didn't know until a college lit. class.)

Anyway, between a toga and a Christmas angel I found this green dress.

Never mind the poor cell phone quality, it will suffice. I can see the doorstep scene now:

DING DONG!

"Trick or treat! Trick or treat!" in chorus.

"Well, lookey here. We've got a ghost, {plop of candy bar in bag}, Harry Potter {plop}, and ... er ... what are you, dear?"

"I'm the sister of the groom in an early 1990s wedding!"

"Oh. Of course. {plop} That deserves two. {plop} Have a great night!"

Photo: Really, my dress wasn't that short, the slush was just that high.

Photo: Jeff's sisters Andie and Katie with my brother, Jeff at our reception. December 28, 1993.

HALLOWEEN BONUS:

Apparently I was either in disguise on my wedding day or have mutated greatly since. I used to have this photo framed in my living room but removed it because on two separate occasions a visitor asked, "Who's that a picture of?" 

Can you believe that?! And that it happened more than once?! And that it was within only seven years of my wedding? Now it's been 17 years. Don't you dare ask, too.

One questioner was my visiting teacher. The fact that she didn't know me well enough to recognize me in the picture (it IS me, people!) should have prepared me to know she also wouldn't recognize my humor when I said, "It's Jeff's first wife." 

Forever, I'm glad to say.

Happy Halloween!

Superpowers

You know, superpowers are relative.

If everyone in Metropolis could fly and had X-ray vision, Superman might only be special for his tights. Meh.

It's all in the company you keep. Which is why MY superpower is ... (drum roll, please) ...

seeing that the dishwasher is full of dirty dishes and ... (wait for it) ...




STARTING THE DISHWASHER! (last night's newly discovered dishes are humming right now)



That, and lowering my expectations.

What's your superpower?

Preschool outline: Dinosaurs, B, more

Samuel, April 2011

I'm doing a co-op preschool group with five friends this year. This is my week to teach, two hours each on Tuesday and Thursday.

I'm posting this outline 1)To actually create it! and 2)To encourage your ideas. Hello, Katrina!

All the topics were assigned.

Monthly theme: Dinosaurs

Weekly topic: Fossils (good thing my dad's a geologist, eh?)

Letter B; Number 2; Color: blue; Shape: triangle

Tuesday

After greeting/rug time (which includes calendar, weather, pledge of allegiance), review circle shape from last week. Display capital B and help children identify how circles help form it. Show color blue. Introduce B sound with Berenstains' B Book by Stan and Jan Berenstain. 

Move to work table for pre-writing worksheets (tracing lines, mazes, etc.) Use pans with a thin layer of salt for finger tracing as well (can lightly shake and draw again like a cheap Etch-a-Sketch). Teach about the triangle shape; have children practice in salt pans.

Move back to rug to read Color Farm by Lois Ehlert, which uses die-cut basic shapes to form animal faces. Shape by Shape by Suse MacDonald uses the same concept for more advanced shapes as the story unveils a dinosaur.  Talk about how shapes are everywhere! 

Make and decorate "binoculars" out of cardboard tubes. (I will do the taping.) Go on a shape hunt in the front yard. 

Back inside, show pictures of 3-4 dinosaurs, especially those whose names begin with B. Ask children to find the Bs on the page. Teach that dinosaurs hatched from eggs. 

Go on an egg hunt in the backyard. The plastic eggs will be filled with pictures of objects that begin with B (ball, baby, etc.). Have each child share what she found.

Talk about how some dinosaurs were fast, some slow, and have children romp through the yard accordingly. Open play, then snack. (peaches)

Move back to rug for story and singing time. Books may include:

The Blue Balloon by Mick Inkpen

The Baby Beebee Bird by Diane Redfield Massie (great repetition of B sound)

Dinosaur Roar by Paul and Henrietta Strickland (opposites for children to act out) 

How Do Dinosaurs Say I Love You? by Jane Yolen and Mark Teague
ABC T-Rex by Bernard Most

Songs:

ABC
Wheels on the Bus 

and this twinkling little ditty I just made up:

Small and giant dinosaurs (crouch then jump up)

Roamed the earth so long ago. (swing arms, march in place)

Some of them had plants to eat, (hold arm and hand up like a tree)

Others liked to chew their meat. (put arm in front of mouth)

Small and giant dinosaurs

Roamed the earth so long ago.


Coloring activity: dinosaur poster

Thursday


Gathering activity: Provide popsicle sticks (some cut to different lengths). Encourage children to take three and form into a triangle.

Greeting/rug time followed by review of B and introduction of lower case b. Can the children see how it is different? Explain that it makes the same sound, even though it looks smaller and different. Read/paraphrase Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey. Did Sal do the same things as her mom even though she is smaller? How about Sal and the bear cub?

Move to table for counting activity. Repeating the "kuplink" from the story, ask children to listen for how many pebbles I drop into a metal bowl. Teach how to draw the number 2. Do worksheets.

Maybe have snack of blueberries and bananas, maybe not.

Go outside to play freeze the dinosaur -- like freeze tag, only since this age group doesn't really grasp the concept of holding themselves still, I will be the dinosaur. Assign children to freeze me, others to release me, all the while chasing each other. After a couple of rounds, pretend to fall asleep and have the children do the same. Explain briefly that layers and layers of mud covered the dinosaurs. Explain that dinosaurs don't live on the earth anymore. 

Back indoors, elaborate on fossils through first pages of book Fossils Tell of Long Ago by Aliki. 

Use sea shells and leaves to form impressions in salt dough, thus making fossil models. (Great idea with the shells, Dad!)

Set fossils aside and do name-spelling activity. Provide each child with an envelope that has her name printed on it. Inside are the individual letters. Encourage her to put them in order. Can she do it without referring to the envelope? (Thanks for this one, Katrina!)

Coloring activity: dinosaur poster

Story and singing time, with some of these books:

Zoo Farm by Lois Ehlert

Chicka Chicka 123 by Bill Martin Jr.

Curious George's Dinosaur Discovery by Catherine Hapka
Chalk by Bill Thomson -- I love this book! It's a wordless tale of children's chalk drawings coming to life.

Songs may include:
ABC

Five Little Speckled Frogs

Five Little Ducks

The dinosaur ditty 

The last book will be Chalk, so we can then go outside and recreate the story.  Send home printout with Curious George finger puppets for children to cut out at home, if I ended up reading that book.  

###

So there it is. I'm planning to adapt as we go. I planned lots of activities but won't rush the children just to do them all. Peeking in on the group last week I noticed that the girls could sit for an hour with their workbooks -- but Samuel, the only boy, could not. This level of variety is definitely with him in mind.

Send me your ideas -- and wish me luck!

P.S. My next topic is trains. Any fun activities for that one?

Happy birthday, little monkey!

Dear Samuel,

Today is your birthday and I can't believe you're already 4! Maybe when you're older you'll remember this day, maybe not. For all the anticipation you showed this summer wondering when your big day would come, you were remarkably nonchalant. Is that how big boys are? I played the piano in Primary today and swore you blushed when the group sang to you.  After church we ate spaghetti for dinner (by your request) and celebrated with ice cream and a fire truck cake modeled after one you and Emma found together in a book.

I think this picture sums up your place in our family perfectly: Look how thrilled James is for you to blow out your candles! Look how happy he is! Everyone was so excited to help you have a great day. James, Emma and Elise hovered over frosting bowls to help with the cake. Your sisters wanted to wrap the presents. We called Kyle to come out his room before the candles burned low. He didn't come right away, not until half the cake had been served. Yet when Kyle did emerge he was so sad to have missed it that he set up candles in the crumbled cake and asked you to blow them out again.

On your blessing day, Samuel, your father spoke of all the peace you brought to our home from the very beginning. (Psst. We miss it some days. We'll take it back anytime!) He also blessed that you would bring us closer the more you taught us about love.

I truly believe this. I feel it in Emma's extreme patience with you (often greater than mine -- but you're teaching me!) I see it in the way you can cheer Kyle up after a rough day at school. I hear it when Elise creates a 10-minute narrative to relate a simple, but funny, sentence you said. I smile when James calls you his best friend brother.

Samuel, when you see yourself I hope you see how much you are loved. Making you happy makes us happy.

You were so excited about your monkey hat that you ran to the mirror. The abacus and Curious George books and shirt were hits, too. Thank you, Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Jim!

Minutes after you were born we gazed intently at each other. You had so much to tell me. Tonight I stopped you from running through the kitchen long enough for me to crouch down, look in your eyes and give you a birthday hug. Do you remember?

"I love you so much, Samuel," I said.

We all do, you little monkey.

Photo: Mom, 35; Samuel, day of birth; Kyle, 11; Emma, 9; Elise, 5; James, 3 -- just too much for him!

Love,
Mom

PDA #15: Samage control

No, that is not a typo. If you have 3-year-old tyrant named Samuel, you know exactly what I mean. (Good luck with that, by the way.)

Today was my fifth straight Sunday of playing music during sacrament meeting at church. One week the congregation was unusually hushed as the choir (for which I am accompanist) approached the end of its beautiful, spiritual offering. Right at the last line of music I heard my son cry. But this was no mere case of a mother singling out her child's voice in a crowd, oh, no. Everyone heard it. As the choir faded in volume, Samuel increased to full-blown screams. Embarrassed, I marched from the stand, brushed past Jeff in our pew, picked up Samuel and marched out of the chapel with my little banshee. The story is Samuel had hit his head on the bench in front and wouldn't let Jeff console him. I apologized to the choir director for ruining the effect she had tried so hard to create. "Oh, we all felt for you," she said.

Another week I was to do a piano solo. This time Samuel threw a HUGE fit before church. He screamed at home. He fought and kicked as I got him in the car. He refused to go inside the building. I finally got him inside, but only as far as some chairs in the hallway. I was rattled and frustrated, not in a performing state of mind at all. It was so bad that Jeff took Samuel home before the meeting even started.

Which brings us to today. Samuel again threw a tantrum about attending church. I couldn't leisurely reason with him because I had to be at the church in five minutes to do a final run-through with some singers -- surprise! I bribed Samuel with the only yummy morsels in the house: chocolate chips. Emma packed a baggie for him that I figured he'd consume by the time we arrived.

Phew! Crisis averted. Nope! I did the rehearsal then sat at the edge of the pew with my family. I looked over during the opening hymn and saw a brown smudge in Samuel's ear.  Yes, in. My vigorous attack on the ear with a tissue must have caught Jeff's attention, for he also looked over, registered shock and mouthed, "Uh. Ther. Side."

It's time to insert a little-known scientific fact: the opening of the outer ear traps just enough body heat to melt a chocolate chip into an impenetrable blockage.

That's why I once again fled the chapel. It took a while to get Samuel cleaned up, but he was too noisy to rejoin the congregation.  I held Samuel and hovered near the door so I'd know when it was my turn. I anticipated depositing Samuel with Jeff as I walked past the bench on my way to the piano. Instead, Jeff came out to the foyer and rescued me.  He once again provided the damage control that allowed me to perform. So thank you, Jeff. We're on a steep learning curve with this kid! It's not exactly the piano practicing I had in mind.

Grandparents in my garden

Photo 2: Page from Emma's scrapbook. Text: Mom's favorites: Grandpa Earl, her children and columbines.

Grandpa was so cute. When Mom said she'd like to take a picture in front of his flowerbeds, he went inside to change his shirt first.

June 1999. Midway, Utah. Kyle: 3; Emma: 11 months, Grandpa: 82.

When my columbines burst open this summer I was transported to my Grandpa Earl's front steps. A columbine is a rather unique looking flower, with star-shaped blooms atop long, trailing pointy petals. The flower beds flanking Grandpa's front door were full of 'em, presenting a vivid white, yellow and blue welcome mat. Even though I never asked him, I figured columbines must be my grandpa's absolute favorite flower, to have them in such profusion. It was like our shared contempt of cucumbers (among a teasing family that loves them) -- another funny little tidbit to bond the two of us together.

Today is Grandpa Earl's birthday. He would have been 95. There seems such a huge distance between that number and 88, the age when he died. I wish I could still visit him. I wish my children could play in his sandbox, then saunter inside to open his treat/cookie drawer and hear him call out, "What's a seven-letter word for keepsake?"* while he did the crossword. I miss him.

I miss my other three grandparents, too. All four are gone.

I was mulling my status as a "grandparent orphan" one day as I worked in my garden. The columbines, naturally, made me think of Grandpa Earl. Then, as I started weeding, I heard the words Uncle Willis spoke in a funeral tribute to his mother, my Grandma Orton. Sitting is not the proper posture for working, she had taught him as a young boy. When a task requires us to be close to the ground, we summon more strength by kneeling.

I began to think of all the other ways my garden brings my grandparents near:

The mingling scents of flowers remind me of how Grandpa Orton humored fussy Grandma, as shown the time I was 13, visiting from another state. They took me to the mall. Grandma flitted from perfume counter to perfume counter, each time waiting for Grandpa to sniff his approval. "Mmm," he said with the air of a practiced connoisseur. "That stinks pretty good."

I think of GranMarie, Grandpa Earl's wife, every time I brush past a tomato plant and release the aroma of her minestrone recipe. Come winter I make about a batch a week. I look at my apple tree and remember her pushing me high enough on the swing in her yard that I feared hitting fruit.

I have just one zucchini plant this season (one is enough!), but even with such a small quarry there's sure to be one squash that will escape notice -- you know, the kind you never, ever see forming until it's the size of a man's leg. And I'll laugh to remember the time my dad, brothers and I slipped such a specimen beneath the disproportionately puny leaves of Grandpa Earl's squash plant. He was too shocked to remark on the curious lack of stem/plant attachment.

I hunted for worms by flashlight in my grandparents' carrot rows, felt my grandmother's patience when I pretended to understand her grape vine pruning lesson, expectantly planted vegetable seeds with my grandparents, harvested alongside them. That all these memories can take form in my own garden today makes me very grateful indeed.

*memento

PDA #14: Gene pool

This Public Display of Appreciation post honors my husband's DNA.

Hmm. Unless I'm mistaken, and this trait comes from me.

"Do you want a bag for your hair?"

Emma was standing by me at the register as I paid for our haircuts, distractedly bouncing her braid in her hand. "Do you want a bag for your hair?" the stylist asked.

Do those words make you laugh, too? I can't help it -- I think it's funny!

The braid was fun for shocking her siblings, now it's off to Locks of Love where it can be made into a hairpiece for a child going through chemotherapy. 

Emma created quite an uproar in the salon with her request to cut off 11 inches. "Are you sure?" the stylists asked over and over. 

Emma was. She continually delights me, this self-assured daughter of mine.

Emma, unplugged

Happy 13th Birthday, Emma!

It's an exciting day around here. James and Elise helped me prepare our traditional birthday breakfast in bed. Samuel heartily joined in the singing as we presented the tray. Since food pics are nearly always unrecognizable, I'll fill you in on the menu:  scrambled eggs, spiced applesauce, and pancakes shaped into a 13, topped with apricot syrup, raspberries and powdered sugar.

It's a thoughtful day around here. I heard Kyle turn philosophical saying,  "I'll never look at Emma the same now that she's a teenager."

But when Emma entered the room this morning Kyle reverted to the teasing older brother. "You're not really 13 yet, not until 4 or 5 (in the afternoon)."

Emma was a whip. "Yeah I am! It's called birthday, not birth minute."

It's a grateful day around here. My children's birthdays always make me pensive, Emma's especially so. I still catch my breath when I revisit her birth. Jeff and I were scared, but also felt so ... lifted. I felt shielded, protected in the moment from what could have been too much to bear. It wasn't until Emma was out of the woods, weeks later, that I learned some of the details of her birth: that she emerged from the C-section limp and blue, earning a 1 out of 10 on the APGAR assessment scale; that doctors performed CPR. I couldn't see any of this going on in the hushed room. Oh, the silence! I remember waiting to her hear first cry, but did not panic. Instead, I was buoyed. I felt it.

The same doctor also delivered Elise and James. He was hilarious. When Jeff couldn't accompany me to my appointments he wanted a full recap of the crazy things Dr. Roth said. So I was caught off guard one time during another prenatal visit when Dr. Roth suddenly turned serious. He asked how Emma, then a preschooler, was doing. "That was a scary day for me," he recalled. That remark was the first time I realized how tragic it could have been.

It's sobering to know that in a different time or place, neither Emma nor I may have survived her delivery. She was six weeks premature, delivered by C-section because I was bleeding out. She was 4 lbs. 13 oz.  She was in the NICU for three weeks. She had no surgeries, just needed to develop.

As far as we can see Emma has no lasting effects from being a preemie. At her first grade teacher conference I slumped in relief to hear Emma was on track with her classmates. I explained to her teacher a little bit of the guilt I had felt (it was my body, after all) about Emma's early birth, especially wondering if it affected her cognitively. "I think you can stop worrying now!" she said.

I don't know why our family was so blessed with this beautiful outcome. I know so many others watch their babies suffer, and my heart aches for them. Thirteen years later, sharing this story is still tender for me.

I am so grateful this loving, compassionate, capable girl is in our family. I look at all the wires and tubes Emma once had to keep her alive. I could be glad that Emma is past that stage, that she's "on her own power" now, so to speak, but there I would be wrong.

Because it's been Heavenly Father's power all along.

Self portrait, December 2010

PDA #13: Not a dud!

Jeff surprised us Monday night. We spent the day of the 4th with family a couple of hours away. Since Jeff wanted to get home in time to get a decent night's sleep before work Tuesday morning, we had to pull away before dusk. As in, BEFORE FIREWORKS with the cousins. Grumble, grumble. The kids were sad.

Still, we got to see snippets of practically every city's fireworks display as we drove along I-15. When we got off the freeway for our own town, Jeff headed south instead of the usual north. That got the kids' attention! A local display was in the works, and Jeff wanted to find the kids a good vantage point. He snaked the van around town, pausing at intersections as long as he could, so we could watch, moving only if other cars came by. Ultimately we stopped right in the middle of the road.

We hit the last 5 minutes of the show, just perfect, if you ask me. It finally dawned on me that I had the camera in the car, so I grabbed it and shot without regard for the right buttons. (These of Jeff and ear-covering James are long exposures without flash -- that's why they're blurry!) Samuel dubbed the show "too loud" and chose not to leave his car seat.

We were close enough to hear the crowd's cheers signaling the finale, which meant we better high-tail it out of there! Jumping back into the van and peeling out was exhilarating. Jeff got us back home in a flash. Being last-minute renegade fireworks spectators like this, without having to find parking, might become a tradition.

Later, when Jeff sat at the dining room table recording the day's receipts, I kissed his cheek and thanked him for making such a fun memory for the kids. "I CAN be spontaneous," he said, smiling. "I just don't plan on it."

Spin cycle

1. I experimented with a slow camera shutter speed to show motion on the merry-go-round. (The green and white forms are children running and pushing.) Samuel is in the center, above the white mass. Elise, by some fluke, is the only face in focus. She thought that was cool!

2. You wouldn't know it by this initial show of fear, but Samuel loved the merry-go-round so much he wouldn't get off. 

 

3. I love this shot for how Samuel's face is in sharper focus relative to the spinning around him. (Look at his fingers and feet!) I also like how the stripes on his shirt mimic the spinning grooves.

Spin Cycle

A mother I know, a stylishly grounded woman whose exquisite paintings expand my thinking, used this word to describe the realm of child-rearing: Perpetual.

Meals, dishes, laundry, carpools, homework, conflict resolution. Rinse, repeat.

Perpetual. It has a lofty connotation. It is not the word I thought of first. Tedious, routine, monotonous maybe. Overwhelming, overbearing, draining sometimes. 

We had to abandon the merry-go-round sooner than expected on Monday because the friends we drove to the park, a mother and her two daughters, were ready to leave. This did not sit well with James. My normally mellow 7-year-old threw the biggest tantrum known to man -- made worse because I could not shrink into anonymity.  Next, at the grocery store, where I drove my neighbor too, Samuel threw a huge fit. What gives?

Rinse, repeat.

I have been bogged down lately in a swamp of mothering discouragement. I am exhausted. I'm lonely. I often feel like I'm spinning out of control, not able to stay on top of anything (although my laundry pile would grant an impressive "king of the hill" perch).

The spinning of the merry-go-round -- almost hypnotically tranquil to watch that day, with its soundtrack of laughing, happy children -- stays with me.

These things are perpetual, too:

• Seasons

• Sunrises and sunsets

• My daily choice to put a positive spin on my current role, because I get to have these precious children forever. 

PDA #12: Well-stocked

Jeff's fishing gear really came in handy this week. These scissors with teeny tiny tweezer points -- meant, I'm guessing, for extracting fly hooks from fish lips -- were just the thing for gently pulling out Samuel's forehead stitches, saving me another trip to the doctor.  (He fell on a rock in our yard.) Yes, I'd rather wrangle a 3-year-old for five minutes on the bathroom counter than wait with him for 45 minutes at the clinic, even if the magazines are good. Un-huh. I asked Samuel to hold the scissors up today, thinking that would be a much better photo, but Emma vetoed that as cheesy. Which is just as well because Samuel's posing nearly resulted in more stitches. Silly me.

What I really want to thank Jeff for in this post, however, is doing all the packing and preparations for our boys' trips. Last week Kyle attended Especially for Youth in Logan from Monday to Saturday, and this week is on a camping trip with his church age group. James went camping with his grandpa Wednesday through Saturday last week. Jeff got them ready. He did it ALL. He carefully packed just what they needed. By the time I even registered that the trips were coming up, Jeff was done. Jeff was on top of things and looking out for his children. He saved me a lot of work, too. Way to go, Jeff!

Inner Beauty

Photos: 1. Preparing for Friday's dress rehearsal

3. Emma's entrance at the staging rehearsal (the orchestra was not there yet). 

All performance pictures were taken at this rehearsal.

6. Elise is second from right. 

7. This picture makes me smile, the way Elise faces the rest of the group.

8. Aargh! Degas would not be pleased. Ballet pictures that cut off the feet? 

To be close enough, I was standing right at the orchestra pit, looking upwards. 

(Note to self: next time bring longer lens!) 

Emma is holding her crown because it had fallen off -- but no worries by performance time. 

9. With Grandma Shirley on Saturday. 

Grandpa Jim, Grandma Hatch and Aunt Katie came, too. 

(Other pictures, with them, are still on Jeff's phone.) Thank you for supporting us!

Emma and Elise had their fabulous ballet recital last week. And when I say fabulous, I mean fabulous! This is the type of carefully planned production with original songs and live orchestra. Did you catch that? Live orchestra! The theme was "Once Upon a Time," and the fables and fairy tales portrayed through dance were food for thought in delicious eye candy packaging. In many dances the beautiful costumes became a narrative tool. I especially liked "Sun and Wind," the story of those two elements betting which could get a man to take off his coat.

Emma was a princess among frogs, and Elise was a flower in the story of Snow White. This is Emma's second year of ballet; she started last year at age 11 in a class for older beginners. (This ballet school generally starts girls at age 4.) This year she was several years older than most girls in her class, but I'm so proud of her for working hard and not letting the age difference affect her. I'm also grateful to her wonderful teacher, Circe, for cultivating Emma's confidence. This is Elise's first year of ballet. Last year as soon as the curtains dropped on Emma's recital, previously disinterested Elise leaned over to me and whispered, "Can I take ballet?"

Emma's song about made me cry with its words, "Shouldn't every little girl believe that she's a princess?" But be careful, says the song, because someday a prince will make her his own.

Every parent says it, but it's true -- children grow up too fast! Seeing my "little" girls all dressed up like this gives me a glimpse of the women they will become ... all too soon. Although it must be said the hours prior to the recital were practically Elise's undoing. She was an emotional wreck! As we scrambled around the house getting ready I finally pegged her: she wanted me to say she was more beautiful than Emma. I told her I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't! Yet no amount of "You're both beautiful" and "I love you!" would help. Thankfully the drive to the auditorium was long enough for her to reset. Elise also ended the recital very pleased with how she did, and I was grateful for Emma's sincere compliments to her. So grateful! 

What I appreciate most about the girls' ballet experience is this: for every sequin and tube of mascara; for every yard of taffeta and swipe of shimmery eyeshadow, are hours and hours and HOURS of work with no immediate, easy reward -- a year's worth, almost. Emma had two 1-hour classes a week, with one at 8:30 on Saturday mornings. And getting up was no easy task, I tell you.

So, now we're coming down from the recital high. The girls were stars, but now it's back to the every day. I know though, that their poise and self-assurance on stage can touch most anything else in their lives, especially when hard work goes alongside.

What I hope my girls learn is this, that beauty backed by substance is the very best kind.