NaBloPoMo "Z"

Z is for Zyzzyva



And so, with the last entry in the online version of the American Heritage Dictionary, we conclude our NaNoBloPoMo Letters theme for the month of April. We now return you to our regularly scheduled blogging without obligation.

(It's a type of weevil, in case you were wondering.)

NaBloPoMo "Y"

Y is for You and Me




Who went?
You and I.
You went.
I went.
You and I went.

Who joined her there?
You and I.
You joined her there.
I joined her there.
You and I joined her there.

With whom did she go?
You and me.
She went with you.
She went with me.
She went with you and me.

For whom did she try?
You and me.
She tried for you.
She tried for me.
She tried for you and me.

NaBloPoMo "X"

X is for X-actly




I am exactly where I need to be
I need to be exactly where I am
I am a blessing manifest and
I can undress the moment naked
Time unwinds beneath my mind
And from within I find
The kind of beauty only I can find

I am exactly where I need to be
I need to be exactly where I am
I am surrendering so willingly
To be the perfect me inside
This now and truly
How else could it be
Destiny she blesses me
Destiny she blesses me

And when I try to fight or run
I only wind up back at square one
And when I think I know what's best for me
Fate, she takes me back
To exactly where I need to be

Lyrics are estimated (double-check me, Qacei!). Original lyrics by Amy Steinberg, who will be performing for an exceptionally grateful audience at LIFE is Good 2008.

Listen to the entire song

NaBloPoMo "W"

W is for Whoops



I forgot to blog. Or rather I remembered to blog but procrastinated. Or rather I prioritized my day in favor of spending time with the birthday boy. Yeah, that's it.

NaBloPoMo "V"

V is for Very Odd



Tonight was our immediate-family celebration of Frank's birthday (which actually takes place tomorrow). MJ and Chloe accompanied us for a Thai feast (way more dishes than we could eat, followed by coconut ice cream) and helped me to present a couple of gifts to the birthday boy, but then they got a better offer: a sleepover at Grandma's.

"That's okay," said Frank. "Your mom and I can have hot dinosaur sex in every room in the house."

The girls then proceeded to tell us in great detail what rooms, and what surfaces in those rooms, we are allowed to use. It was rather surreal.

But I figure what they don't know won't hurt them.

---

On another "odd" subject, have you read Dean Kootz' books about Odd Thomas? We recommend them highly.

NaBloPoMo "U"

U is for Unschooling (of course)




Some of my favorites:
If you give a kid a Nintendo by Mary Gold
I Am What I Am by Anne Ohman
They only have 2 chores... by Joyce Fetterol
Moving a Puddle by Sandra Dodd
Scooping Up Life by Ren Allen

And, okay, one of my own:
Accepted by Ronnie Maier

NaBloPoMo "T"

T is for Team Transitions



I'm still waiting to hear whether my team at work will be able to open up a full-time position for their favorite temp (me).

The Seahawks have released Shaun Alexander. I can't say I think it's a mistake, but, given the track record for Seattle trades, I wonder if we might live to regret it.

Mariners closer J.J. Putz is back on the roster. Frank and I were there for the action Tuesday night when he strutted back onto the field and got the job done against the Orioles. Unfortunately, the M's dropped the second game in the series last night.

The Sonics are leaving town. (yawn)

NaBloPoMo "S"

S is for Sweethearts



My buddy Steph took this amazing photo near her house in Athens, Georgia, where they, unlike many of us, are actually having spring.

The amorous two are a couple of anoles.

NaBloPoMo "Rr"

Rr is for Rrrrolling Our R's




Foreword
When I learned what Spanish I learned, "rr" was presented as its own letter in the Spanish alphabet. The difference between "r" ("ere") and "rr" ("erre"), I was told, was the amount of roll they get when spoken. Most r's get rolled at least a little in Spanish, but that double-r really gets rolled. Thus, "pero" is one word ("but") and "perro" is another ("dog"), and you tell them apart when spoken by how much tongue flapping goes on.

However, during my research last night, I discovered that the Real Academia Española does not include "rr" in its official Spanish alphabet. I wouldn't presume to criticize la Academia and do hereby acknowledge the superiority of their command of and authority over the Spanish language.

But for the purpose of this blog post, I'm pretending they don't exist.

The blog post
I am the only one in my family who can rrrroll r's. Frrrrom what I've rrrread, Spanish-speaking childrrrren learrrrn this skill earrrrly and easily, so I suppose I didn't rrrroll enough r's at my girrrrls while they werrrrre toddlerrrrs.

(Yes, this too is all my fault!)

Surrrre, they have otherrrr skills. MJ can fold up herrrr tongue so it looks like a 4-leaf cloverrrr, and she can make swan necks with severrrral of her fingerrrrs. Chloe can walk on herrrr toes without benefit of toeshoes, and she can get tearrrrs to squirrrrt forrrrcefully out of herrrr tearrrr ducts.

Still, I sorrrrt of thought any kid of mine would be able to rrrroll a decent r. Ya know?

But therrrre's hope! I've found this lovely little tutorrrrial for "anyone" who would like to add r rrrrolling to theirrrr rrrrepertoires.

You can thank me laterrrr, girrrrls!

NaBloPoMo "R"

R is for Rant



MJ came to work with me today, a brief post-Mayer appearance to confirm in person that, yes, I really am one of the only two people who are taking a "very serious" issue seriously.

So, here I sit at my desk, actually ready to leave for once before the carpool lanes open up to all traffic, with my very own carpool buddy in attendance, and...

wait for it...

There are no traffic jams.

I hate that damn Murphy.

NaBloPoMo "Q"

Q is for Quixote and Quotes



"He was spurred on by the conviction that the world needed his immediate presence."

Never realizing what a service she was doing for her blog-crazy mother, Chloe claimed last night that she could see Don Quixote standing in one corner of the basement. And her margaritas were of the virgin variety!

"Apparently, he had a very good time."

When we awoke this morning, our kitchen was a wreck due to our blender-concoction free-for-all last night. After shopping for a few hours during the day, we decided to forego our trip to the Mexican restaurant and have homemade margaritas instead. (There was no way we were foregoing those.) The rock-like ice cubes and frozen strawberries put up a good fight, but (after some, er, negotiation between Frank and me) were eventually pummeled into submission. Several times.

"His venture sounds like a banana peel awaiting its victim."

About midnight, Fergus decided he wanted more margarita. Woe! The adults had consumed everything all of the strawberries. So, Ferg and Effie and I trooped to the kitchen to see what we could come up with. Concoction #1 was a banana and strawberry-kiwi juice slushie, but Effie is not overly fond of bananas, so we dumped in a few spoonfuls of blackberry jam. Still too much banana, but Fergus liked that one pretty well, and the rest was distributed to some grateful teenagers. Concoction #2 was a strawberry milkshake for Effie and then a strawberry-and-apricot milkshake for Fergus, Chloe, and MJ. That one was a huge hit. But as mentioned above, the kitchen didn't fare so well.

"Here I am, rock me like a hurricane."

Did you know that, after a few margaritas, I am a natural at Guitar Hero? I have no doubt Craig will be posting incriminating evidence.

"You weren't so good, but now you are."

This last quote is from Fergus, apparently won over to the Ronnie side by smoothies, stories, and some tickles.

NaBloPoMo "P"

P is for Par-tay



The Mayers are here!

The action so far has included a Guitar Hero battle between beginners MJ and Chloe (currently tied at 87% accuracy on "Hit Me With Your Best Shot"), a couple of mini-snowball fights (no, not Sno Ball, snowball), wine sipping, slap-bracelet experimentation, a reading of Seven Silly Eaters, and bonding over of our enjoyment of Firefly.

Now we're off to T. Joe's and Half Price Books.

Good times!

NaBloPoMo "O"

O is for Occipital




I have nothing to say. I just thought this was a cool picture. The occipital lobe is in blue.

To see it animated go here. It revolves! It's really cool.

O is also for overwhelmed, something I feel from time to time. But using my occipital lobe to look at some other O things can help me calm down.




Oranges. Mandarin Oranges. Christmas stockings and Christmas joy and the sweet satisfaction of being able to get into an orange will little fuss.







Outdoors. Any outdoors will do. Except maybe Seattle's outdoors. Snow is in the forecast again. Argh!








Out the English way. An escape with charm.








Oregon Country Fair. Enough said.








Octopus. Diver thrill, gentle sea monster. Or is it?







Olbermann. One of my current heroes. So nice to have someone saying so many of the things I want said.







Oliver Wood. Sure, I'm old enough to be his mother, but that doesn't mean he's not cute.







Olives. Love 'em.






Opals. Love them, too, but mostly they're on here because whenever I see one, I think of Steph.

NaBloPoMo "Ñ"

Ñ is for Niñas and Coliñ




In our family, we're surrounded by girls. When my nephew comes to visit, he'll be seriously outnumbered.

Presenting...

The Priest Point Beach Club*

Chiara!

MJ!

Chelsea!

Chloe!

Megan!

Madison!

Emma!

Ella!

Lila!

and Colin!

----------------
* in birth order with colors indicating siblings

NaBloPoMo "N"

N is for New (or Not)



When I look back over the last couple of decades with Frank, I see a lot of stability, consistency, habits—even ruts. We've lived in the same house for 17 years. We've worked at the same company, essentially, for about the same amount of time. Heck, we've even had the same car for 18 years.

What makes all that remarkable is that I am just a wee bit addicted to excitement and adventure. So, I can look back over those same years and see a lot of variation, changes, upheaval—even throwing-of-caution-to-winds.

We've left countless uncounted jobs. We've packed up our family and hit the road or water for multimonth adventures five times. (Interestingly, this behavior didn't start until after we had kids. Anybody who tries to tell you having kids forces you to settle down is just wrong.) We've taken more traditional vacations. We've bought and sold cars, motorcycles, boats, tent trailers, electronics, furniture, and countless other things we can't live without. And we've welcomed six different additions to our family.

Our life of perpetual motion.

And yet, we're set in our ways. We're homebodies. We're not terribly sociable (at least we haven't been until recently). We often lack motivation and energy.

It's an interesting duality in our approach to life. This is probably no surprise for me, but I am ever grateful that Frank likes it, too.

NaBloPoMo "M"

M is for M to the J



Here is it, the moment you've all been waiting for...

The Story of MJ's Arrival

Our story starts with the pill, or rather without it, and how I was convinced my confused body wasn't ovulating, so we were just going to have to wait to get pregnant.

Or maybe our story starts with a nice night Frank and I had together just after the Christmas craziness.

Or maybe our story starts with the stomach flu I suffered in January. "It's just not going away," I whined to my manager at work. "Could you be pregnant?" asked she. "Nah."

Oh, wait...

Or maybe our story starts with nephew-son Jerry. He was living with us and very sweet about taking care of me. He would run to Ray's Drive-in for my afternoon hamburger fix. (Hamburgers and ice cream sundaes were my cravings. And hot and sour soup.)

Or maybe our story starts with car repairs. You know how some women nest before they deliver? Well, I went out and worked on the car. Nine months and one week pregnant, and I was out there replacing bulbs and air filters and I don't even remember what all. The car had only been in our possession for about a week, purchased used from friends Bobby and Diane—a new family car for a couple that had up until then found increasingly creative ways to cart around large objects and a family of three (counting Jerry and an increasingly pregnant woman) in a two-seater car. (Sidenote: We also helped Jerry buy his first car the day we bought the Tercel. The previous owner: "When is your baby due?" "Today." He went pale.)

Or maybe our story starts with my dad and his wife, Reneé, who were up visiting from San Diego hoping to be in attendance for the big event. They were sleeping on our sofabed when I felt the first contractions Sunday night. I think they were even more excited than I was.

Or maybe our story starts with Stephanie's car. She and I went shopping on Monday to try to stimulate my exceedingly slow labor. She drove us from mall to bank. It was very bouncy (something I'd never noticed about her car before and couldn't detect after). But I suppose it was stimulating.

Or maybe our story starts with dueling Casio G-Shock watches. Jerry and Frank spent a couple of hours timing my contractions Monday night while I experimented with different positions under some deluded idea that I could get comfortable.

Or maybe our story starts with our arrival at the hospital about 26 hours after my labor started only to discover that I wasn't dilated. At all. The nurses sent me off to walk the halls for an hour. It was a surreal time, walking along very slowly with Frank at my side, thinking I was in such pain. (Ha!) At my next exam, I showed some progress, so they admitted me.

Or maybe our story starts with the arrival of my mom and Stephanie. Except I'm a little fuzzy on when that happened.

Or maybe our story starts with "These contractions are pissing me off" as I sat in the tub in the dimly lit room. (I have no idea if the "dimly lit" part is true. I only know that it's dimly lit in my memory; I didn't become aware of the daylight until after MJ was born.) My mom was on the phone to somebody (note to self: if there's ever a next time, do not allow people to call the birthing room) and yet another contraction hit and suddenly I had just had enough.

Or maybe our story starts with "Somebody tell me it's too late for drugs." Definitely.

But our story definitely starts at 11:36 a.m. on Tuesday, September 15, 1992. The big moment. I had Stephanie on one side and Frank and my mom on the other. The room was full of people (again, only an impression). The cord was wrapped around the baby's neck. "Oop, we have the cord wrapped here," said the unflappable midwife, cutting the cord early while my mom hid behind me so I couldn't see her terror. I was never worried, either because I was too tired or because the midwife was calm.

And then MJ was born. "It's a girl," said the midwife. "It's a girrrlll," Stephanie and I crooned in unison.

They put her on my tummy (another reassurance, because they definitely wouldn't have done that if she'd been in danger). She was a little gray but pinked up quickly as they did their measurements. Then they gave her back to me and we started bonding. I don't remember his words, but I remember that Frank spoke. And even though she'd been ignoring a dozen voices all around her, at the sound of his MJ turned to look.

She was daddy's girl even then.

NaBloPoMo "Ll"

Ll is for Me Llamo



Ronnie is the name I gave myself in middle school. My Uncle Ross called me Ronnie Ann when I was little and I hated it (or pretended to). But when the time came to choose my own identity, I became Ronnie.

That I didn't become "Ronni" or "Roni" shows that, even then, I was a word nerd.

And those are just too cute, don't you think?

To my mom and some other relatives, I am still Veronica and probably always will be. I have had times of feeling like Veronica is the person they wish I were, but now that I've gone through my own daughter's name change, I know it's just hard to retrain your tongue. (The poor thing went from Marjie to Mar-Jay to Mm-Jay to—finally, months later—MJ.)

I have had other names over the years. Most recent is my screen name in the online unschooling community. I am dragonfly, or "df" for short. I started out anonymous out there five years ago, but now I am dragonfly and she is me. And I don't care who knows it.

But mostly I am Ronnie.

NaBloPoMo "L"

Where L represents Last Week's Hours



Chloe is considering putting in some time at the high school next year. She's curious about what it's like. So, Friday night, she said she wants to learn some more paper math in preparation for this. She mentioned reading one of the "Princess Diaries" books in which Mia is struggling with an algebra problem. Chloe said she found the problem as confusing as Mia did.

It turned out to be about order of operations, and the phrase Chloe stumbled over was "solve exponentially." So, we talked about exponents, and a little lightbulb went off because of the similarity between 2x2x2x2 and the 2+2+2+2 that Chloe does in lieu of memorizing the multiplication tables.

And then I explained about the order of operations. I forgot (as I am wont to do) how physical Chloe's understanding of math is, so I scribbled out these equations:

3+5*7=38
(3+5)*7=56

and started explaining about parentheses first, then multiplication and division, then addition and subtraction. She was frowning at me and clearly scornful that those parentheses should make all that difference. And then I said, "Just imagine that last week you worked 5 hours a day for seven days, and then on the eighth day, you worked 3 hours. And for the second one, last week you worked 3 hours on Tuesday and 5 hours on Wednesday, and you made $7 per hour."

Oh! Click.

It's something that has come up again and again in our unschooling, and I believe it's the root of most kids' struggles with math as it's presented in school. Most kids are physical, hands-on people. Working with numbers in the real, physical, hands-on world is natural and intuitive. But throw those numbers on paper, make them abstract, and it just doesn't make sense.

Also, Chloe will never take mathematics on faith; she won't memorize the rules and "just do the steps." She always wants to know why. Since I was a champion at memorizing the rules and just doing the steps and it never occurred to me through all those years of math classes to ask why, we are often at cross purposes when discussing math.

Thank goodness for Frank. We call him Mr. Encyclopedia Brain around here. He almost always knows why.

Anyway, our little algebra conversation continued with my showing her a variety of elementary algebra problems. She started reminiscing fondly about a little alegbra conversation we had a couple years ago, where I'd used little drawings of Christmas trees and zombies instead of numbers. I explained that I'd had to do that, because when the numbers were in there, the girls kept just giving me the answer. I'm sure you can imagine the conversation.

"Okay, so if you have x+2=7..."
"It's five."
"I know, but with algebra, you're supposed to show your steps and..."
"But it's five."
"Right, but right now we're less concerned with the answer than the process, so..."
"IT'S FIVE!"
(pause)
"Okay, so if you have x plus 2 equals Christmas tree..."

Chloe laughed over this little story and listened very attentively as I explained about the equal sign being the fulcrum of the teeter-totter and you must keep the teeter-totter level, and here are the steps for solving for x.

And then it was her turn to work one.

x-4=8

"It's 12."

I think maybe she's an accountant instead of an algebraist.

But it was a fun conversation.

NaBloPoMo "K"

K is for Kazdin Kan't



I get Dear Prudie delivered to my Inbox. I agree with her about 60% of the time, with the 40% where I disagree usually related to her parenting advice. Last week's installment was a case in point (third letter). She refers a worried aunt to the Web site and work of Alan Kazdin, a clinical psychologist who has written a book called The Kazdin Method for Parenting the Defiant Child.

Now, I have read only the excerpts that I found online, but I can already tell that this guy's training is getting in the way of his connection with his own kids, and he's attempting to spread those ill effects around.

See if you can spot my issues with his approach.

"My first daughter was supposed to be going to sleep in her crib. But I was standing there at cribside, enthralled, marveling joyfully at this little creature. She was squirming, making sounds, and looking at me, in no way moving toward sleep. My wife entered the room and fired off two questions: 'What are you doing?' and 'Is this the way to get her to sleep?'...

"As a clinical psychologist, a scientist who studies human behavior, I supposedly knew not to do this... But what came most naturally to me was to stand there gawking at my wonderful baby daughter, even though this was rewarding her for not going to sleep...

"But when it comes to shaping and changing a child's behavior, what comes most easily and naturally to parents is often the opposite of what works best."


No. No. No. No. NO.

Let's imagine this same scene in an attachment-parenting household.

First off, subtract the crib. What comes most easily and naturally to parents is to HOLD THEIR BABIES. Too much of society encourages us to mistrust this instinct, but it's there for a reason. You don't see our ape relatives plopping their babies on the nearest flat surface while they go about their business! No. The baby stays with mom or dad. For us and for apes, holding the baby is vital to the baby's well being and ability to thrive.

Secondly, let us please recognize that this baby was Wide Awake. She was communicating. Bonding. Thrilled to be with her daddy. And the saddest part is that even though her daddy was also thrilled to be with her, somebody came along and made him feel wrong for that.

Thirdly, please oh please, beware of "what works best." A child's "good" behavior is not a measure of his or her happiness, self-esteem, productivity, or future success. In too many cases, that "good" behavior is simply a coping mechanism that gets them through the day.

I know this man's heart is in the right place. His method is not about punishment, and it's geared toward kind, positive reinforcement. But it's not about forming true connections with children. He's encouraging us to treat our children the way we would a dog or rat we are attempting to train.

Ick.

There is a better way. Truly, there is. It is a more natural and a more effective way.

For more information about attachment parenting, see the Attachment Parenting International web site (especially the 8 principles) or an unschooler near you.

NaBloPoMo "J"

J is for Juno, Jambalaya, and Joy



Juno comes out on DVD in 4 days! I can't wait!

I get to see the "Jambalaya!" lady and her amazing family in 7 days. I can't wait!

JOY!