more theological questions

So we just tackled the whole "animals in heaven" thing.

Today, thanks in part to our church's "Journey to the Cross" program (which I really appreciate every year; thanks, Melissa!) I got a couple more problems.

On the way home, we were talking again about why Jesus had to die. In discussing the concept of sin, and the fact that every person except Jesus is/was a sinner, Miles pauses for a second. Then he says, "What about Juliet? She can't even TALK yet!"

Ummm...how to explain sin nature to a five year old?

Fortunately, I had a comeback, albeit a little facetious in nature! After a moment, I said, "But Juliet sins too, right? Doesn't she hit you sometimes? And she bit you this morning!" HA! I know this is evading the question, but it got the point across that even babies can be sinners, even if I happen to know that a baby's hitting/biting probably doesn't qualify as sinful behavior. Judge me, ye who have a better explanation!

A few minutes later, Miles pipes up again. "The bad king (meaning Nebuchadnezzar) wanted to make people worship him, but DANIEL only worshipped God. But WE have two gods: the God who created everything and the God who is Jesus. Which one did Daniel worship?"

Trinity explanations for five-year-olds? Is there a website?

I kept having thoughts of how to explain...and then kept remembering that each of my bad analogies was related to some important but deadly heresy I must have studied 15 years ago. I resorted to the non-explanation of "Well, they're both God, and they're both the same God. Jesus was the same God who created everything." I didn't bring up the Spirit at all.

Then Miles asks, "What about Nazareth?" This takes me a while to decipher, but I eventually figure out he means LAZARUS (hey, YOU say those two words next to each other - pretty confusing!) "Is Lazarus God too? He rose from the dead."

Hey, this one is way easier. "Remember, Lazarus didn't raise himself from the dead. Jesus is the only man who can do that, because he is the only one who is God."

At this point, I guess Miles was satisfied. Then Eleanor joins in the fray, adding "Yeah, when I'm grown up I'm going to die on the cross with Jesus!"

Ummm...OK, I'm not sure where this came from. I guess if we tell her she will go to heaven to be with Jesus, it might be logical that she also needs to die like/with him? Anyway, I assured her that she would die, like everybody, but probably not on a cross.

I'm ready for Scott to be home.

A morning of strange comments

Today, as I was picking the kids up from the childcare at my gym, a young African-American girl (probably about 6-7 years old) stared in disbelief as Eleanor yelled, "Mommy!" and ran up and hugged me.

She said, "THAT's your daughter?"

I said, "yep!"

And again, "THAT can't be your daughter!"

Again, I reply, "Well, but she IS my daughter!"

She tries once more: "HOW can YOU have a BLACK daughter???!!!"

I'm tired and not in the mood for a long discussion, so I summarize: "She is my adopted daughter! So she is black and I am white, and we don't look the same, but she is still my daughter."

The girl didn't seem mean-spirited; she was just apparently old enough to have a clue that biologically, Eleanor and I didn't line up, and not experienced enough to have ever met other families like ours, I'm guessing. Anyway, chalk one up for new adoption-comment experiences for me!

On the walk home from the gym, we see a dog. After a comment from Miles that the dog looks like Elmer, and where is Elmer now? Living with David and Gina still, I answer. And where is OUR dog now? Oh, honey, she died when you were still little, before Eleanor was even born.

But he has to push the issue. "So is she up in the sky with Jesus now?" I hedge: well, not in the sky; Jesus is everywhere. He's not satisfied. "Is Dagmar in heaven now?"

Sigh. I try to give the truth, as I understand it, as gently as possible: "I don't know where Dagmar is now, but I know that God made all the animals, including Dagmar and all the other dogs and cats, and that he loves them all and he will take care of them."

Eleanor cheerfully concludes, "So when I die, I can go be with her!" OK, we'll table this discussion for another time; we don't have any pets so it shouldn't come up anytime soon, right?

Finally, when we're almost home, we walk by a total stranger, an African-American woman who comments over her shoulder to us, "Hey, I have three more at home if you want 'em!"

Um? .....OK, I didn't have to respond; she was going the other way. I did have to explain to the kids that it was a joke, and we didn't really have three more brothers and sisters waiting for them. At least, not soon...

Athlete in the family

Since it was, yet again, a lovely spring day, Miles and I went for a jog this afternoon. He's been asking to accompany me, and since I'm pretty slow for an adult, I figured he could probably match pace pretty well. I think we'll let him join me next time I sign up for a 5k.

Recall from my earlier posts: I don't mean a "run". I do indeed mean a "jog": a slow shuffle barely faster than walking; probably in the 12 minute mile range.

But I just checked my map, and we went 3.4 miles, only pausing at the occasional traffic signal. That's pretty far for a five year old, and for his leg length, a pretty decent pace. I'm very proud of him! A few times on the way home, he'd suggest stopping to sit on a bench, or say he hoped a light would be red so we could stop. But no complaining, and he had no problem "towing" me up hills or "sprinting" so we could make it across a street before the light turned red.

We played games counting squirrels and birds and American flags, and just chatted about this and that - it was easily the most enjoyable run of that length I've had. He's good company!

The only down side - and this was actually kind of cute - is that he wants to hold my hand the whole way. Which messes up my rhythm and feels a bit awkward, so I tried to talk him into just holding hands as we crossed streets and not on the in-between bits.

A good day

I feel like I complain a lot on this blog, so, in contrast, I wanted to share about the lovely, almost-perfect day I had:

I woke up before my alarm clock and had some quiet time, and got the oatmeal started. Then woke up the cheerful children, who LOVE oatmeal. Score one! I finished Eleanor's last three braids at breakfast while we listened to Suzuki melodies, Irish fiddle tunes, and the orchestral excerpts from the "Jack and the Beanstalk" show at the CSO we'll be taking the kids to on Saturday. Miles helped me get all the beads on her braids - he loves making "padruns" (patterns) on the little plastic beader tools.

We made it out the door on time to CBS (and I actually finished my whole study on time); today the preschool kids had what Miles grandiosely termed their "show" for the moms. It involved marching in, reciting a Bible verse or two, and singing a couple songs. Eleanor was front and center, holding the sign for her group. Miles stood on the far end and rather in the back, not smiling and not looking at the audience...but he knew every word and every hand gesture.

We came home, after virtuously NOT stopping for fast food even though it is always lunchtime and we're hungry on the drive home Thursdays. Leftover pigs-in-blankets inspired no complaints (gross, right?) and Eleanor went to nap early, saying that she was super tired. Then Compliant Cheerful Miles (as opposed to his alter egos, Oversensitive Miles, Hyper Distracted Miles, and Angry Rebellious Miles) and I did some subtraction homework (working on borrowing) and had a very good violin practice session. I went upstairs to get some stuff accomplished while he read and practiced more in his room.

A bit later, when I came downstairs, he showed me the pile of paper he had made for me: "It just kept printing out, mom, so I put it here on the table for you." Thanks, hon; those are our taxes, done at last! He then asked me to do more violin with him, so we did that until Nora woke up.

The kids played nicely (I let them walk around barefoot in the rain out back) while I cleaned up a bit, and then we all loaded into the stroller to jog/walk to the gym. I surprised them by stopping at the park on the way and getting out a favorite dinner: homemade "Lunchables"! (That's what they call it when I give them a variety of crackers, meats, and cheeses, and tell them it's a meal instead of a snack.) They showed off a bit on the monkey bars, then we headed to the gym for some kickboxing fun. Where, incidentally, I got complimented on Nora's hair, and I quote, "Pretty good for a white girl!" High praise indeed, people.

After a relaxing twilight walk home, the kids got PJs on and we read a devotional book and the short "I Love You" book I used to read them as babies...then bed with (almost) no complaining!

To top the whole day off, I remembered that I had one beautiful sea salt caramel in my purse (from CBS), and that I had already tracked it in my food journal, so I HAD to eat it now!

OK, God, now how do I repeat this day?

how do mothers accomplish ANYTHING?

OK, so I had a beautifully empty day on my calendar. I envisioned myself working out, doing meaningful special together-time projects with the kids, cooking something that doesn't involve following directions on a box, learning my Bach, and re-styling Eleanor's hair, which is getting fuzzy and dilapidated (don't want to be the bad white mama now!) And now it's 9:30, I'm exhausted, and I can't figure out what I did all day. So I'm trying to estimate:

Getting dressed and ready to go: 5 minutes
Cooking/cleanup/dishes/feeding children: about 2.5 hours total
feeding/changing/actively playing with baby: about 2 hours
Workout at gym: 1 hour
jogging to/from gym with kids: 1 hour
shower: 20 minutes
working on "school" type stuff with kids: 45 minutes
trying unsuccessfully to get violinist to focus: 30 minutes
gardening/seed planting project with kids: 20 minutes
Adoption paperwork: 30 minutes
working on CBS study: 30 minutes
braiding Eleanor's hair: 2 hours
writing down what I ate: 15 minutes
breaking up fights/arbitrating/sending kids to time out: 45 minutes
blogging: 10 minutes

reading: zero
watching TV: zero
playing video games: zero
working on thesis: zero
laundry: zero
cleaning bathrooms: zero
learning my music for rehearsal Friday: zero

That adds up to about 13 hours I think, and I've been awake since 7:30, so we're missing an hour in there somewhere. Maybe that's my problem: the missing hour. Actually, that probably involved answering emails, taking a few phone calls, and politely telling the two Mormon "elders" that I was too busy to chat. Is waking up earlier really my only option for clean clothes, clean bathrooms, finishing my degree, and not getting fired from my music gigs?

a couple notes

This morning:

Eleanor, squealing in mostly-fake terror: "Mommy, there's a spider in my room!"

I look. I see no spider, nor anything else crawling.

Miles, in his bossy big-brother way: "Count the legs. If it has 8 legs, it's a spider. If it has no legs, it's...uh...a fuzz. Or a hair."

Eleanor: "Ummmm....it has two antennae and five legs!"

Miles, disparagingly: "Then it's the fan. That's the only thing that has five legs."

I would like to include some Juliet anecdotes here, but so far she mostly just sits, cheerful and grinning at us while she eats her fingers or perhaps a shoe. She is working on creeping, but so far only manages to go backwards, and gets very annoyed about it.

Still zero luck on solid food with her. For a couple weeks, we tried just sticking chunks of whatever we were eating (that was not a baby-taboo food, that is) onto her tray. Every single time, she throws up. So the doctor suggested we try very liquidy rice cereal for several weeks. She does the usual baby tongue-thrust thing and doesn't eat that either. And yes, if it gets too far back in her throat, she starts retching again. I guess it's possible that she just isn't ready for solid food yet, but she's 7 1/2 months old, so that's a little unusual. I'm beginning to wonder if there could be something with her tongue or throat that's shaped weird and triggering her gag reflex too easily. We'll give the rice cereal a couple more weeks, and then bug the doctor again. She is taking in plenty of formula, at least, and can finally hold her own bottle - yay!

Miles: first violin solo recital!

Miles has now been playing violin for five months (he started when he turned five - it was his birthday present), and today he had his first solo recital. And he really rocked it! He takes a private lesson once a week and is also in the weekly group beginner class. And I have to take a moment to brag, since this IS my blog, and bragging is kind of what blogs are for sometimes: although he is the youngest in the class AND started the most recently (everyone else started in August, at the beginning of the school year), he was the only one who got to play TWO songs at recital (and he was playing the most advanced rep of the beginners). He'll be playing a few songs with the "intermediate" group (mostly 7-10 year olds, it looks like) at the upcoming April group recital, and probably moving up to join them in a few more months.

Here he is! OK, I have no idea what's up with the leg-thing he's doing in the first song - maybe that's the way his nerves express themselves? But he did a nice job, and his pitch is not too painful for a beginning string player!



Yes, he was forced to wear the outfit, and complained about having to dress up. He wanted to wear pajamas. To borrow a phrase from my mom's friend Kaye, "Oh well!"

A joke no one else will think is funny

Today, on this lovely spring-like afternoon, I went for a jog and took Miles with me on his bike. On the way home, he was complaining about a very loud car, and I took on the Daddy role briefly and explained about mufflers. I felt rather proud of myself.

A few blocks later, a van screeched to a halt, brakes squealing. I explained that that car probably needed new brakes, and that was why it sounded like that.

Miles answered, "Yeah, it sounds JUST like macaroni cooking in a pot!" Um...?

It took me a second, but I got it. And now I will explain it to you:

We have a magnetic induction cooktop (which, incidentally, I LOVE when it's not being repaired). When a pot of water is boiling, and steam is escaping between the lid and pot, because of the magnetic vibrations it makes this very high-pitched metal-on-metal squeal until you reach over and adjust the lid.

Precisely like a van in need of a brake job.

So yes, Miles, that guy's brakes did sound like cooking macaroni.