What's up in March

Lizzy started softball practice three weeks ago, already making her daddy proud with her slugging.  Caleb starts t-ball practice next week, assuming it falls on one of the days he wants to do it, and not one of the days when he's violently opposed. 

We attended our church's annual talent show for the first time in many years--and I was also in it, for the first time in ever.  I was only talked into it because my face was not seen and my voice was not heard.  I was the arms in the classic "not-my-arms" skit.  (Clearly, it was a "talent-optional" show.)

We had our annual hot tub board meeting for our homeschool support group.  First we covered all agenda items that required writing; then we five ladies retired together to the hot tub with a post-it note containing the rest of the agenda.

It was a lovely time--better than most board meetings, I'd venture to say.  Unfortunately, we had a brainstorm at just about 10:00pm when we were about to leave that requires reworking our entire plan for the end-of-year picnic I was supposed to plan.  So I'm a little lost at sea about how to arrange an end-of-year picnic slash field day.  

But it was a nice board meeting.

We had a helpful snowstorm that dropped 4 or 5 inches on us--enough to close the library on book club day, which was a relief, as I hadn't finished reading the book yet (it was a bit longer than I thought).

It was also enough snow to make me give in after lunch and cancel the rest of the school day so we could go sledding instead.  

And then I had to buckle down, because, probably due to another miscalculation on my part, I only left myself two days to read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea in its entirety before Jeddy's book report on it was due and needing correcting from an informed teacher.

I scrapped yet another curriculum that hasn't been working and ordered a different one.  This one involves lots of gluing and coloring, which the child in question informs me that he doesn't like, so hopefully it's not a complete disaster.  I'm pinning my hopes on the very attractive Ziggy Zebra puppet.

May Ziggy not fail me.

I got an email several days ago reminding me of an article on children's ministry I needed to write for our church newsletter.  So, naturally, I wrote it the day before the deadline.  (Since I had to finish Twenty Thousand Leagues first.)

That was the first day of our two-week spring break.  

I spent that first Monday doing massive loads of laundry and all those normal housekeeping tasks that I never get done during school days--like wiping down the kitchen, sweeping the floor, etc.  It's surprising how satisfying it is to have a clean house.

[Satisfying for five minutes, at least.  Then it's just demoralizing when I blink and it looks the exact same as before.]

On Monday I also managed to research and make a very important decision, in between kids talking to me:  to order some bigger lunchboxes.  

I call them "Jeddy boxes."

But in fairness, I want them for myself, too, to make big salads.  For Jeddy, I'll just empty the fridge's whole supply of leftovers in one for him.

The rest of Monday I spent reading the eight or nine newspapers I was behind on (another thing I typically can't keep up with when school's in session)--and that's not counting the ones that blew away in pre-dawn windstorms.

Frustratingly, I have appointments seven out of ten spring break days, including four this week.  Monday: piano lesson.  Tuesday: orthodontist, where Jeddy got fitted with a creative new accessory on his braces to torture him.  Wednesday: audiologist for Lizzy.  Thursday: impromptu dentist appointment for Ada, who is sprouting an unexpected tooth.

Most of my free moments this week were spent trying to make an actual important decision about whether I need to enroll Jeddy in a co-op for eighth grade next year.  Half hours in between appointments when kids are also talking to me and I'm processing whatever the appointment was about are not ideal chunks of time to think straight, leading me to stay up waaaaay past my bedtime one night researching, considering, weighing options.  

It wasn't until today, literally five minutes before I had to leave for the dentist, that I made the decision, registered Jeddy for two online courses, and put the co-op question to rest.  Happily, I think we can get along without a co-op for another year at least.  Jeddy was just disappointed that I gave him a choice of which Latin class time to sign up for, because now he can't complain about it when it rolls around.  (So he says, although I'm confident he'll be able to find a way.)

I thankful that it's spring.  I hope the rest of spring break, and the arrival of April, will help shake off the winter blahs and refresh us for that final school push to June.

In like a lion

March arrived in signature style, with a windstorm that dented the grill and robbed us of much of our sand pit.

February was taken up this year in a very exciting, week-long field trip, followed shortly by a week of standardized testing.  I'd say I was pretty successful in warding off the February blues.

But now it's March.  

And March isn't any better than February.

The fell seasonal spirit is sweeping through even our Sunday school halls, where small children are behaving like wild beasts, turning on their loving teachers with bared teeth and howling protests to circle time.

My own kids haven't been outside for six months.

And it's so fricking cold.  And brown.  And dull.  And windy.  And cold.  And the 10-day forecast stretches out with little snowflakes and "snow/rain mix" and 40 degrees, with no change in sight.

It makes me ache for summer that doesn't end.

A time with no more cold, no more darkness, no more drear.  

When we don't feel the desperation of summer days slipping out of grasp.  

When the toil ends and the garden blooms eternal.  

I walked to the one place in town with a blooming daffodil.

If time ever seems to stand still, it's in late winter.  The trees have been brown so long I hardly remember what green looks like.  Everything is dry and twiggy and lifeless.  It doesn't look like it will ever change.  Each day is as cold as the one before.

But the plants know something I don't know.  Their annual unspoken faith swells in quiet buds: delicate little flowers that will require light and warmth to survive--and they choose this most barren of depressing months to emerge, calmly planning to be in place to greet the coming, though as-yet-unseen spring.

Capital odyssey, part 4: Capitol & art

Thursday in D.C. dawned mercifully sunny.

We got an early-morning FaceTime with Daddy and then relaxed with a granola breakfast in around a sunny table.  After Jeddy's online math class while I did schoolwork with the girls, we hopped the Metro (thankfully, without umbrellas) to Capitol South.


We lunched at the highly-rated We the Pizza.

Then on to the Capitol!

There was a guy at the door with the biggest gun I've ever seen who asked me if I was carrying any aerosols or... something else that I can't remember, to which I squeaked out a petrified negative.  Inside there was heavy security, and we were told that if our very flimsy adhesive tags came off of our coats, the Capitol police were authorized to arrest us.  

Alrighty then.

Each tour used nifty little headsets so we could hear only our own tour guide but lots of tours could be going all at once.

We saw the rotunda

and the old House and Senate rooms.

old Senate chamber

And we visited the gift shop, where I bought Caleb and Lizzy enormous chocolate Capitol domes, but we could find nothing interesting for Jason.

Next stop was the National Postal Museum, which was a big hit.

It had airplanes,

a stagecoach,

a mail train car,

a dogsled, trucks, and a package sorting station, where you had to throw boxes into the correct bags as quickly as possible.

That part was a big hit.


After hitting the Corner Bakery Cafe for snacks, we headed home via Metro, even changing trains at Metro Center without losing anyone.


After navigating Capitol security, personal headsets, a guided tour, All the Mail Things, a bakery menu, and Metro Center at rush hour; without anyone getting shot, arrested, lost, or run over..... I was pretty whipped.  I couldn't even face making dinner until after we had read our new book (On the Loose in Washington, D.C.) and had a FaceTime with Jason, who looked as tired that night as I was.


I finally gathered the strength to fix some soup and heat up some bread.

And dessert was taken care of.

I got the littles to bed while Ada loaded the dishwasher and Jeddy did his math, and then we all collapsed.

On Friday I woke up at 5:30am, mentally packing.  My alarm went off at 6 to pray and read the Bible, and after a shower and some fried eggs, we were packing for real.  It took us two trips to the parking garage to load up the car, and then we headed back onto the Metro to spend our last day in the city looking at art.

I had downloaded the National Gallery of Art's app that has a great audio guide for kids which we intended to follow.  Unfortunately it was slightly unclear whether one was actually allowed to use said app... some docents seemed glad that we were learning to appreciate art with the provided resources.... others, not so much.  I eventually compromised by listening to the tour on tiny tiny volume.  

Still, the kids have demonstrated impressive retention.  Lizzy pointed out a portrait of Napoleon in a book at home that we had seen in real life that I didn't even remember at first.

It was amazing how much beautiful art we have there. 


We lunched on sandwiches, chips, and cookies at an espresso bar downstairs, and then went back upstairs to view still more art.  By the end, Caleb was flopping on the couch in each room, not even moving when we moved to the next gallery.  It was probably time to go. 


We Metro'd one last time, found the car, and gratefully drove out of the city before the worst of rush hour hit. 


Homecoming was sweet; we were glad to see our bunny again; we unpacked and I felt immense relief to be home.

Capital odyssey, part 3: museum day

On Wednesday we had breakfast in and a bit of school time before we went out.  Caleb worked on letter magnets; Liz had a reading lesson; Jed and Ada did math.

FaceTiming with Daddy

As the day was rainy, we used our new skills to ride the Metro again, adding in the additional challenge of managing umbrellas--a very tall order indeed.  

Open umbrellas take up a lot more space on a sidewalk (or escalator) than just a little person; it's impossible to hold hands with umbrellas; it's all too tempting and easy to poke our neighbor in the eye with our umbrella; the umbrella cuts off a major part of our field of vision when we need to cross a street; and as often as not, the umbrella is used merely to collect rainwater that is then tipped down someone else's back.

How thankful I was that it only rained one day.

The main destination on this rainy day was the National Museum of American History.

1989 Batmobile

We started with the first ladies' dresses, so Jeddy could get that out of the way.  Then we visited "The American Presidency," where we saw Abraham Lincoln's stovepipe hat.

We saw the Gunboat Philadelphia, which was sunk during the Revolutionary War and recovered 159 years later to put on display.  It was looking a little worse for wear.


We also saw the gigantic flag that inspired Francis Scott Key to write "The Star-Spangled Banner"; it also looks a little worse for wear.  You can tell it's been through a perilous fight with bombs bursting in air.


Last stop before lunch was "Within These Walls," a reconstructed home displaying how its various inhabitants lived over a span of nearly 200 years.  The kids were astonished at the 1940's kitchen, that their grandpa was born into a home like that.


We lunched at the museum's Jazz Cafe--very sophisticated, and quite yummy.


After lunch we found the John Bull steam locomotive, which was only the beginning of the museum's transportation wing.

Caleb was ecstatic.

In the afternoon, we rode the Metro again to go see the Library of Congress.  Walking from the Metro stop, we passed a lot of restricted government parking lots, with serious, tire-stabby roadblocks.  Caleb kept asking if we could go in there and I kept having to say, "No, you have to be special to go in there."  He finally asked in a sad little bewildered voice, "Are we not special?"


First priority in the LoC was to find a snack.  We merely glimpsed a soaring, glorious entryway, before following directions to the sketchy underground tunnels where there was a coffee shop deep in the Congressional bowels.  But, desperate times.


We took a guided tour, during which I discovered that I don't actually know how to turn off the flash on my camera, so rather than get thrown in international prison for flashing the words right off the pages of the Gutenberg Bible, I resorted to using my phone camera.

By the end, Caleb was so very, very tired.

He did comment later that the Library of Congress has a "fancy ceiling," which knowledge may probably be imputed to him lying flat on his back on the priceless Italian mosaic floor.

Our day of touring ended, we had only to return via Metro, during (c)rush hour...with umbrellas.

I was so thankful for our posh pad and dinner in.  Ada washed and peeled vegetables, Lizzy set the table, Jed found the area of a bunch of trapezoids, and Caleb retired to his room to play cars while I baked chicken. 

After dinner we cleaned up and got ready for an early bedtime for everyone.  I had just time enough to be annoyed that someone was playing some kind of brass instrument on the street corner that sounded like Mardi Gras going on, before I was out like a light for my best sleep all week.