Too literal

 Noah did well enough on his math speed drill today to earn this.  

Of course, he followed the instructions literally, even though it was cold and raining.

Deep

Noah was having some trouble with his school work, and he started getting emotional.  I told him to go do something else until he was feeling calm.  About an hour later, he came back and did fine.  I delivered a long lecture about how you can't think logically and rationally when you're emotional, and that's why you shouldn't argue with your wife when either of you is upset.  I could see I was losing him, so I said, "The same principal applies with your sister".  He could relate to that.  He said, "So when Sarah comes at me screaming and crying about something I supposedly did, I should tell her we can discuss it later when she's calmed down?"  I said yes, and also that it would be useful advice in a few years when he's driving, that he should never drive when he's upset or angry, because if you're feeling, you're not thinking.  We talked about how God gave us emotions, and it's good to feel, but don't try to do anything logical at the same time.

Later, I asked him if he wanted to work on a very intricate color-by-number picture with me.  While we were working on it, with our heads close together, he mentioned that there are some spaces that are supposed to remain uncolored.  That comment led me to talk to him about having margins in life, and leaving white spaces so we can appreciate the colors.  I knew he got it when he said, "Oh, that's why we have quiet time every day, right?"  I said, "Yes, exactly", and he said, "Wow, you're deep today, Mom."

Just like Barbie

Noah was messing with my hair, and he said, "Mom, your scalp is just like a Barbie doll's, the way it has little holes that hairs come out of."  Nobody has ever in my life compared any part of my body to a Barbie doll's, so I guess scalp is better than nothing!

Tilled pork

This morning, I put a pork roast in the crock pot with some apple cider vinegar, onions, garlic salt, pepper, brown sugar, and liquid smoke.  I turned it on low and let it go for about nine hours.  A few minutes ago, I took the roast out and started pulling it apart with two forks.  The delicious smell made its way to Noah, who ran into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around me, and declared, "You're my best friend, Mom!  That looks so awesome!  And since you're tilling the pig all up like that, we'll be able to eat MORE of it, and it will seem like less!"

I told him that it's technically called "pulling", but I actually like "tilling" better, so we're having tilled pork sandwiches for dinner.  I put the shredded up pig back in the pot, added some barbecue sauce, and tested it.  I added some more salt and a pinch of sugar, at Noah's suggestion.  He thought I should add some butter too, but I told him there was plenty of fat in the pig.  He said, "Is there any recipe that can't be fixed by adding butter, salt, barbecue sauce, or sugar?"  I couldn't think of a single one. 

Cold science, bubbles, etc.

 Blowing bubbles in the living room for physical education today.

 Blew some outside into the below zero temperatures for science.  

We also took a cup of hot water out there and tossed it into the air and watched it turn into snow.

 The bubbles turn to ice shells!  This one blew back onto the rug so I could get a picture of it.

 This one blew back and stuck to the door before it froze.

 Sarah thought Marty might be interested in the bubbles.

 Shadow was terrified of them.

Shiloh didn't like them either.

Strange conversations this morning

Mike came in from shoveling, and we spent a good 10 minutes discussing nose prosthetics.  Some of the highlights were: What if your nose freezes off? Can they just mold you a new one out of some kind of claylike material?  How would they glue it on? It would be handy for picking purposes if it was removable.  It would also make trimming your nose hairs easier.  Would you still have nose hairs? Would they grow? It would be funny if somebody hit you in the nose and it caved in and you could just pop it back out.  Maybe you could make different shaped noses for different occasions.  It would be nice to have a cute little removable button nose instead of this big schnoz.

I asked Sarah if she wanted to go to Kuk Sool Won tonight, and she said yes.  I told her that classes might be canceled because it's so cold.  She said, "Oh no. Martial artists are tougher than that. I'm not even going to wear a coat!"  Two minutes later, I got an email saying that classes are canceled due to extreme cold.  I told Sarah and she scoffed, "Wimps!"

Sarah was curled up next to me, watching me play Candy Crush.  I was grumbling about how I've been stuck on level 452 for weeks, while my friend Penny passed it in a day.  I concluded my tirade with, "Is there anything Penny can't do?!"  Sarah promptly replied, "She can't do a cartwheel."  (Mind you, Sarah doesn't even know Penny). 
Me: How do you know?
S: Because moms can't do cartwheels.
M: I can do a cartwheel.
S: But you're not a real mom.  You're just a birth mom.
M: Ummmm....yeah.  I am YOUR real mom, even though I'm not your birth mom. 
That's how conversations around here can take a turn, and I'm left wondering how we went from Candy Crush to birth mothers in less than 10 seconds.

Grandma Opal

I know most kids think their grandma is the best ever, but they're wrong, because mine was.  I grew up living next door to her, so she was quite literally always there for me.  My bedroom window faced her bedroom window, and we would wave good night to each other and send various messages in our own form of sign language.  Somehow, she always had time for me and everyone else.  She was a great listener and truly cared about people.  When I was young, I thought she was perfect (even now, I still believe she was very close to it!).

We used to take a lot of walks together, and from my childish perspective, I thought she was the fastest walker in the world!  One beautiful fall evening, we were out walking, and we noticed the pavement ahead looked like it was moving.  As we got closer, we saw a huge herd of fuzzy caterpillars migrating from one side of the road to the other.  We stopped and stared.  There must have been thousands of them.  Grandma Opal wondered right along with me about how and why there were so many crossing the road at the same time. I've never seen anything like it before or since.  Grandma had a great sense of wonder and curiosity.  She was always looking things up in books.  She would have loved Google! 

Grandma took each of us grandkids on a birthday trip every year, starting when we turned six.  I remember going to the zoo, going to movies, having a picnic on Grandview Drive, and other special times with Grandma for my birthday. The tradition she started lives on; my parents take each of their grandkids on a birthday trip every year, and I intend to do it with mine someday.  When we graduated from 8th grade, Grandma Opal made each us of a scrapbook, full of pictures, stories and notes we'd written, programs from recitals, articles from newspapers, etc.  I still have my book.  In it is a poem that Grandma Opal wrote about the first birthday trip she took me on:

I remember one Mother's Day when I was about five years old,  I went to Grandma's house crying, because I didn't have anything to give my mom.  She pulled out the box of craft supplies she kept under her bed and helped me make a Mother's Day card, and I felt better.  She always made everything better.  One winter when I was sick in bed and couldn't go out to play in the snow, she made a big snowman outside my window
with a sign that said "Get well soon!"  One summer day, it was my job to ride my bike to the Harding farm to buy a dozen eggs.  I put them in the basket on the front of my bike and started home.  The gravel road was bumpy, and I hit a hole and the carton of eggs went flying up in the air.  It crashed hard back into my basket, and every egg was broken.  I was afraid I would be in trouble for breaking the eggs, so I was upset.  Grandma Opal worked at the post office, so I stopped by there on my way home to ask her advice.  She thought for awhile, then said, "Well, you could tell your mom that you have some good news and some bad news. The good news is...we're having scrambled eggs for supper!" 

I'm sure all of us grandkids have memories of playing library and dress-up in her attic.  We had many family gatherings at her house for holidays, birthdays, and celebrations of all kinds.  She kept her basement pantry shelf stocked with cherry Juicy Juice, because she knew we liked it.

She was the family seamstress.  She hemmed and mended lots of clothes for her children, grandchildren, and our spouses.  She even made my prom dress when I was in high school.  She let me pick the fabric and the pattern, and she even let me help with the sewing, although I'm sure it would have been easier without my "help." 

Whenever I had a big load of dirty dishes to wash, I would call Grandma.  She would always say, "Oh, I have some dishes to do too. Let's talk while we wash, so it will go faster."  I used to think it was quite a coincidence that she always had dishes to wash at the same time I did.  Now I think maybe she just pretended for my sake.  I still can't wash dishes without thinking of her and wishing I could talk to her. She used to be a great conversationalist.  She loved to tell stories and write them down.  She passed that love on to me. 

I was with her just a few hours before she died.  I played the songs she liked to hear on my harp.  Even after her mind was gone and she stopped talking, she would always sing the words to "Going Home" when I played it:

Going home, going home,
I'm just going home.
Quiet-like, slip away-
I'll be going home.
It's not far, just close by;
Jesus is the Door;
Work all done, laid aside,
Fear and grief no more.
Friends are there, waiting now.
He is waiting, too.
See His smile! See His hand!
He will lead me through.

Morning Star lights the way;
Restless dream all done;
Shadows gone, break of day,
Life has just begun.
Every tear wiped away,
Pain and sickness gone;
Wide awake there with Him!
Peace goes on and on!
Going home, going home,
I'll be going home.
See the Light! See the Sun!
I'm just going home. 

I cry because I miss her so much, but there is deep peace and joy in my heart, because I know she's with Jesus. She knew Him and trusted Him, so I know I'll see her again and get to be with her for eternity.  The last thing I said to her on the night I knew she was going to die was, "Go be with Jesus."  And she did.