Lemonade stand

After playing bug bingo at the library this afternoon, we drove over to South Middle School, to check out what will become H's new elementary. We drove around the building trying to guess where a playground could go, etc. Nestled behind South is this short street with gorgeous old homes--large, well manicured homes and none of them are for sale. It was a pleasant surprise in this city of problems. This story though is about the boys on the corner. They were selling lemonade from a Staples box. We weren''t in a hurry and the girls were thirsty so we stopped. There were three of them: two brothers and a friend ranging from 7-10. Lemonade was $0.25. The girls each took a cup at which point the entrepreneurs informed us that we had to give the cups back because people had been taking them. I wonder how big my eyes got when they started whipping around the rag they used to wipe the cups clean. The girls had already taken several sips, so I merely suggested they get a bucket of warm water and soap to wash the cups. They were "raising money for the big white house with the pillars." I had seen it and inquired what the house needed. "We're raising money for our in-ground swimming pool, but he (the blond second grader) doesn't live with us so he gets a kick of our profits." Oh, OK. Then they told me they had made about $4.50 but the oldest had a half dollar someone gave him that he wasn't going to spend because it had Pope John Paul II on it. To which the other boy, who attends St. Stephens, said, "He's dead." And the third boy, who also attends St. Stephens said "He is?" I wish it wouldn't have been rude to laugh out loud because I swallowed so much laughter it hurt and now it won't come out.

Tidbits

I'll let you match the pictures to the tidbits!

The backyard neighbor gave us a fish, in a bowl, with food. Their college-age daughter won it and the parents really didn't want to care for it so now it is ours. The girls are thrilled. At first, H named it Jacksy. It was a name she made up. An hour later she announced she was naming it Hannah because she could tell from looking at the fish's eyes that she was a girl fish. T is trying to convince H to call the fish, Fred, the Fighting Fish. It might be working. Now I need to google Beta fish and figure how often we have to clean that bowl!

The girls went to a VBS last week at a nearby church. They loved it even though they had to wear a T-shirt everyday (they think T-shirts are shaped for boys!). It was a huge production with over 500 kids and a fun carnival on the last night.

My garden is growing. My seeds are sprouting at a rate of about 50%. Not so sure why. There are tons of ants in the garden, could they be interfering? Could it be too much rain? Maybe my dirt is bad? But it does have worms. Everything seems so small compared to the gardens I saw in Des Moines.

We went to the new Children's Museum this past Friday. We went with Lily and Chase and their moms (two kids from H's class). We had fun. The person who designed the exhibits did a great job. Lots of fun, especially for little kids.

No picture for this tidbit, but H did go off the diving board at her last swim lesson. I haven't been to the pool with her since, but she loves it know and apparently sends her whole time jumping off the board when Dad took her to the pool for three days in a row while I was gone. K starts crying if I mention taking swim lessons again.

mommy firsts

Did you record your children's firsts? First step, first word, first tooth. Most of us do. This week I've noticed quite a few firsts for me. No one records Mommy firsts. I wish I knew the date that I got to sleep through the night for the first time after being a mommy. More accurately, the first night H slept through the night. It was exciting in what it promised would come, but the reality is I woke up several times wondering if she was OK and wondering if I should risk pumping so I wouldn't be in pain and could sleep. Aaahhh. I don't really miss that phase of life.

Here are some recent mommy firsts for me. 1) Dropping both kids off at vacation Bible school and then leaving to do...whatever I wanted! June 24 and 25, 2008 2)Trying to hurry through the morning preparation to get somewhere on time, I put the hair gel on my face as if to wash it! June 21, 2009 3) While reading the paper and drinking tea both children came downstairs, dressed, PJs away, and one them even had her hair brushed. I hadn't said a thing. (Did you notice I was 1)sitting 2) reading 3) drinking tea) June 26, 2009. I like the idea of sharing mommy firsts with each other. What firsts did you have this year?

I think it is official-- I have entered a new stage of mommyhood where I don't have to do everything for my children. I know some women mourn the lose of a baby and the sweetness of toddlerhood. Not me, I can't wait for the adventures that are to come and the days when I can say, "Go take your shower" and it happens.

To my MOPS friends: recently I feel I am no longer qualified to be a MOPS mom, but I know the rules say I am.

Des Moines

I'm back. I loved being "single" for a few days and loved coming home to my fam. Top row: Helen, my refugee friend and her boys; me holding the 4-week-old Snodgrass twins (6 lbs now); Second row: the whole Drost family, the Snodgrasses, in one day they have as many people in their family as we do; Bottom: Kindle Hope Drost, 4 months old, the newest Drost and the first girl baby!

I highly recommend hanging out for several days with another family. I was inspired in the never ending discipline journey for myself and my kids, I was comforted (this sounds a little pathetic) seeing other kids misbehave too, I was thankful for my family, though I do love you my friends. Visiting another family teaches you; it made me wish for the idea of that book It Takes A Village (to raise a child). I miss the intimacy of my friends in Des Moines and how they could make up for our weaknesses as parents. I miss the Sunday morning gatherings and the way the families serve each other. God hasn't given us that kind of intimacy since we left, but we keep praying.

I cried out to God for my new city of Ignored. Since I've left Des Moines, it appears to be prospering. The streets from the airport to downtown and all along the interstate that runs through the center of the city are lush with landscaping, flowers, and trees (even as the flood waters receded). Several of the formerly run down areas of town have been transformed into trendy restaurants and boutiques and there were people shopping in them! No empty strip malls, a low unemployment rate, good schools, a normal number of houses for sale and they haven't lost much value in the last year. I know Des Moines is a white collar town with the insurance industry at its helm--an industry that will always be "needed." But it has an inner city, a large foreign refugee population and gangs. Yet it is thriving. I long for Ignored to get turned around, to be able to say to all those people who abandoned it...see what some love from a few Christians did to turn this place around. Mostly I want the kids here to be hopeful. This part of Michigan is so low on hope.

Lastly, airports boggle my brain. So many people going so many different places. I like to people watch at O'Hare. It's like a city in glass tunnels. I wish I had had my laptop with me to write about all I saw. Part of my boggled brain though comes from the technology. People with ipods, laptop stations, cell phones, electronic books, text messaging, and most people trying not to speak to the person next to them. I try to greet everyone I sit by especially when I don't have kids to keep track of, but they don't always appreciate my intrusion! How sad.

Swimming

The girls have been in swim lessons for the past two weeks. They are doing well except for the jumping thing...H will NOT jump off the diving board. K will not jump off the side. They are petrified. In trying to coax H off the board I said, "Do it for Daddy, he would want you to be brave." Her response: " I don't care. I'm not doing it." Every lesson she climbs up the board, walks out as far as the railings will take her and then freezes. The wobbly board and looking down at the water make her reverse all the brave statements she has been making since the last lesson. It doesn't matter that the tiny four-year-old in her class happily leaps off the board or that she did it last year (she claims she doesn't remember). She has now been dropped off that board five times. But at least she keeps trying and always feel likes she can do until the moment of truth. But poor K spends every night sobbing about having to jump into the pool. She will happily swim and kick her way around that pool but she will not go under and she certainly won't jump. She too has been handed from lifeguard to teacher five times. All the other kids in her class will jump in so the teacher told them they could try the diving board next time. It was like she handed K a guaranteed nightmare. She says she cannot jump off the diving board until she is five (9 months away!) Their last lesson is Friday and T is taking them this time. The girls break down less and act a bit braver around their dad, we will see what happens.

And why you ask is T taking them? Because I am flying all by myself to Des Moines to visit my dear friend Candy and her family, including the newest addition (finally a girl!). Their basement got flooded in the rains this season so all seven of us will squeeze into the two bedrooms and living room on the main floor. I can't wait and I will get to visit my friend Helen, a refugee from Africa, and Erica with new twins. And quite possibly visit my favorite store...a tea house called Gong Fu Tea where I can restock. I'll be back Monday night. Meanwhile, T has to manage the girls, swim lessons, a birthday party and the first two nights of vacation Bible school. It isn't too hard until you remember that he must also remember food for K everywhere he goes. But I'm not worried, he's a pro.

Soccer Finale

I'm a proud momma. Soccer season is over. H scored her second goal and this time her daddy saw it. I actually didn't see it, well sort of. I saw the ball go in but honestly I thought the superstar player that was playing offense with her had kicked it. To add to my dismay, I had just quit recording with the video camera. All the same, H's beaming smile and her, " I made a goal for my daddy" was felicitous. I felt so relieved when H scored her first goal. I know H will feel inferior at various times as she grows up. But I always hope I can help her avoid it. I could see her dragging on that soccer field and so wanted her to know she could do it (but I wasn't sure she could). It was such a relief to have her score a goal this year, so she knew she could do it. Her skill from last season to this season has increased tremendously and now we both know she can be successful in soccer. The pressures of wondering if we are encouraging her to play a sport she can't succeed at are over...for now.

I am proud of H, but I am proud of T too. He coached a group of nine six-year -olds. He uttered more words of encouragement during the season than I think he has in some entire years. The parents loved him because he was organized, communicated well and actually taught the girls. The girls liked him because he played silly games at practice. H said one day, "Daddy's so good at soccer he could be a one person team" ( Before the game T would play goalie while all the girls tried to score-- they would squeal with delight when they occasionally made it past him.) T's enjoyment of coaching those little girls surprised even him, and next year he is going to try coaching both girls' team. Even after watching him this season, it's hard not to laugh at the thought of T and ten little four-year-olds who might cry when they get hit with the ball!

Giggles

As a young child I sometimes got the giggles--a delightful disease where everything is funny and you can't stop laughing. It was often induced by the presence of a friend, but not always. I don't laugh a lot as an adult. I am not a jokester. I can only think of one time in the past ten years where I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants, thanks to the antics of T and his friend Andy Fuchtman. I wish I laughed more. I had a friend in Montana who made me laugh a lot, our senses of humors were a good laugh and she had infectious laugh and smile. It feels so good to laugh, healthy even. I wish I laughed more though I am not sure I can change such a thing.

Sometimes, especially when praying or talking with H in the last 20 minutes of her awake day, we both get the giggles. Genuine-I-can't-stop-laughing giggle fits. My girls do elicit laughs from me: big loud guffaws where I swear some of the stresses of the day come out. Or little giggle fits shared with my girls which feel like gifts that should be treasured.

One time at Applebees, I ordered this shrimp and spinach salad (super yummy). T stole one of my shrimp, I loudly protested and tried to fight him for it. He won. The girls were bent over laughing. Making someone laugh hard is delightful too.

I'm so glad God gave us an opposite for crying. This message is inspired by Tuesday night's giggle fit.

Garden

Seed packets are deceptive. They give you you just enough information so you can imagine the pretty picture growing in your yard. This will be my second year of vegetable gardening and I still feel like I am guessing all the time. I read somewhere that when picking a seed packet or variety of plant, pay attention to what isn't said. For instance on tomatoes, it might say "compact, robust producer." But it doesn't mention that it is not disease resistant, it also doesn't say, "known for its superb taste" which means it only tastes so-so or worse. Or green beans, no matter what variety you choose, it never tells you that soaking the seeds for a few hours will help them sprout faster or that beans don't like a lot rain prior to sprouting (so much for the beans I planted last Thursday!). It puzzles me, one would think the garden-related industries would want us to be successful. Is there some intiation you have to go through to be privy to the secrets of the garden-world? I definitely haven't been privy.

My garden is all planted now and all I can do is pray and wait. I committed several garden mistakes: I rototilled a garden with live grass and didn't spray it with anything before planting, I planted spring/fall veggies now as it gets hot ( I read about the different seasons after the fact). My friend Candy told me about a book called Square Foot Gardening. I love the method of dividing the garden into square feet and being able to fit more plants than in a typical row method. It was time consuming to set up and if it doesn't stop raining and storming those little seeds will all get washed away and nothing with grow anyway. It was nice to have a strategy as opposed to the first year's method of "what spot looks good for this veggie." I wanted the girls to help me more in the planting. They have each helped a little but what overwhelms me is when they both want to help at the same time. I get all panicked with so many little hands and little tiny seeds (like carrots). In Montana, I planted carrots: the first planting never grew because the seeds were too deep (1/8 of inch is almost setting the seed on top of the dirt and sprinkling for cover). The second planting never had greens on top because the prairie dogs ate all green things not in the squash family. I hope this garden is more successful. I still suspect those rabbits are biding their time 'till the lettuce is sweetest. FYI those posts in the very back of the yard are for the tree house and the area in the very front with the tiny pot is reserved for the girls to dig in!

Yesterday was T's birthday. I wanted to take his picture because 1) it was his birthday and even if he doesn't care, I was determined to record its passing 2) he looks so different from last year (he's lost about 70 lbs but feels like he is half his previous size when I hug him). I am so proud of him...and he looks sooo handsome. But he still won't smile for the camera. The girls of course use any reason to be fancy! And Daddy's birthday is certainly reason to celebrate. We had a big lunch of potatoes, New York Strips, asparagus, applesauce. I bought T an individual lemon cheescake from the health food store and the girls had marshmellows (I offered to make Brown Crispy Rice treats with chocolate chips, but they just wanted marshmellows!).

Milestones

H made her first goal in soccer last night. YEA! I was more excited than she was. She said making a goal made her feel like she was getting better. The bummer: it was the one of the games they scheduled when Tom was teaching so he missed it.

Kindergarten is over. So much learning. H wasn't excited. She doesn't like getting older. She doesn't like change. She cried because she will miss her teacher. I spent the afternoon helping Mrs. Suchocki pack boxes for the big move to new-old building. It will be farther away---thank goodness for car pools (and the much-loved Jack). The day ended by giving each kindergartner a sheet of bubble wrap and then they all jumped at the same time. They laughed and giggled, but the sound was defeening and made my ears ring! Here are pictures of H on her last day. The face painting is from last night's ice cream social at school. Note to Grandma: if you click on the pictures, a bigger version will appear.

Planets

Once a week, T tells stories or reads stories to the girls before they go to bed. Often the stories are about a princes and her Pegasus and they teach lessons. For a bit more on this see my post with video called Movie Time, from April. Lately, the girls have been making up their own stories about the princess to tell T. They are painful and enchanting. Their stories meander and go on and on and on and it's hard not to tune out. But if you don't, sometimes there is a plot. H's have been getting more story-like lately. Here is the story (minus all the embellishments) from last week, I think she was listening when someone taught her about planets.

God told the princess that she needed to go say "hi" to the moon. So she got in her rocket with Puffy Cloud. First the rocket went to Mars, but it was too hot there. Then the rocket went to Pluto, but it was too cold there. Finally the rocket went to the moon, but it was the wrong moon, then they visited another moon, it was also the wrong moon. Finally, the princess landed on the right moon. She said, "Hello moon." Then she went home.

Margaret Feinberg

Has anyone heard of this lady? I just finished reading a book called Unchristian: What a New Generation Thinks about Christianity..and Why It Matters. Good stuff. But not a light read. Below is part of a blog entry that appears in the book, it is written by Margaret Feinberg. I haven't had time to see what kind of a Christian she is, but she intrigues me. She contributes several times to the book and I like her perspectives. She's written books like Organic God and God Whispers. Here's an excerpt from her blog, it rings true of my experiences and desires. So go ahead, please let me know when I am being a hypocrite. I probably haven't noticed.

I thought that becoming a follower of Jesus would help me kick the sin habit, providing the inoculation I needed, but in some ways the symptoms just grew worse. I realized how much I was infected and how it was affecting my attitude, my relationships, my life. So the truth is that I'm fighting. I am fighting sin with everything I've got. Some days I fare better than others. Odds are that if you're calling me a hypocrite, then you caught me on one of my worse days. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I let you down and disappointed you. But the truth is that I'm not giving up or letting go. I've encountered a God who promises that the battle ends in victory--life instead of death. So call me crazy--but I'm holding on to that promise. I'm also trying to uphold the standards God has set. They're pretty high, and some days I find myself laying on the ground, staring at the celing. But then I feel an urge, an energy, to get up and fight once again. I could use your help. The next time you see me behaving like a hypocrite, pull me aside and gently let me know. I 'd really appreciate it.

Not So Quiet

This post really isn't a quiet musing. It's more of an angry I want to scream because I don't know what to do post. I'll work through this backward.

Happily, both my children were born in the spring so in the early days of June, I walked with H and newborn K to the park near our house in Des Moines. It was our first trip to the park with just the three of us. I brought just the essentials: snacks, sippy for H, sun hats, diapers, wipes and an emergency change of clothing. Usually I keep my wallet in the daiper bag, but that day I remember thinking, it's safer at home. School wasn't out yet so the park was empty. Gleeful at the opportunity to play outside H (2-years at the time), wanted help on the monkeybars. I put K on a blanket nearby and started to help. A teenage boy rode by on his bicycle. He rode by again a few minutes later. I noticed him. Based on his looks, I stereotyped him to be a dropout thug. Then I berated myself for being judgemental. I went to catch H on the slide. Teenager on bike rode by again, slowed down, swiped my diaper bag and sped away. Knowing H would scream if her mother ran AWAY from her without catching her, I ran after that boy, screaming "Hey, that's just a diaper bag, there is nothing in there you want, look through it." I ran after him all the way to the corner and then told some men hanging out on there porch that that boy had taken my bag. Wanting to be heroic, ten African refugees jumped in their car and chased him. It would have been comical, if I wasn't in the story, I ran back to my screaming, bewildered H and obilvious K feeling terrible for abadoning them. There is a long list of reasons why running after the biker wasn't smart, but it felt good. I did't just stand there. The men never did find the boy, probably they didn't really even know who they were looking for, but we found our abadoned diaper bag and all its contents less than a block from the park.

Ignored is a rough town. We knew that when chose to live here. It is a town that needs help, love, Christ. I have come to expect violent, head-shaking crimes that hurt my heart and ridiculous ones like stealing the newly planted flower baskets from the bridges. Yet, I still read about them because they affect the people in this town. The crime this past Sunday though makes me want to chase down a criminal and beat him to an inch of his life. At 6 pm, a group of kids were playing on a corner, about a dozen of them ranging in age from 3-14. I don't know where the parents were, they may or may have been nearby. Doesn't matter. The kids were bouncing basketballs. A car drove by, shot 3-4 times into the group and drove away. A twelve year old boy was killed. His name was Quintae, he was being raised by his grandparents. He was a star student. The best math student his teacher,a 14-year veteran, had ever had. Witnesses can't even agree on what the car looks like. I suspect people are hiding facts, scared to be the rat. There isn't even a lead for the killer. I hate sitting here, God. I know this simmering anger is righteous. David regularly asked you in Psalms to deliver him from his enemies. I think this town has enemies. Deliver us Lord.