Last Day

Last Wednesday was Elaine's last day of Pre-K 4. I can't believe it. Last summer I spent a fair bit of time, working with her on Kipper's Big Alphabet Book and by the end of the summer she still had no idea what any letter or number was. I could show her A fifty times in a row...nothing.

Enter Mrs. H., her pre-K 4 teacher. By the end of this school year, Elaine knows her entire alphabet, capital and lowercase letters. She can spell basic words. She can count to at least 50. And those are just the little things. She has learned and grown so much. She knows about weather and bugs and money. (She can sing a song to the tune of "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" that goes "Head, Thorax, Abdomen.") She knows about shells and shapes, pumpkins and penguins. She also knows many Bible verses by heart.

So here Elaine is on Wednesday, saying goodbye to the best pre-K 4 teacher in the world. Mrs. H. read a story about a teacher with a garden (her room is garden-themed) who got a packet of seeds from the principal in the fall. She planted and watered and tended her garden all year long and now the beautiful flowers have grown and are ready to grow. Now it's time for her to put away her tools for awhile until next fall when the principal comes down the hall with a new packet of seeds. She cried while she read it, and I teared up to because I have no more little girls to send to Mrs. H. for tending and growing.

They had all made a big memory book with pictures and journals from their year. (In the previous picture, Elaine is holding Buzzy, the class mascot. Instead of Circle Time, they have Buzzy Time. You're allowed to speak only if you're the one holding Buzzy.)

Even Mrs. H. commented as Elaine said goodbye on how much progress she had made this year. So now...she's ready for kindergarten in the fall.

On Thursday, Lucy had her last day of school. This girl did not have one bad day this year. Not one. Every single day when I would pick her up, I would ask "How was second grade today?" and she would fall back in her seat with a big sigh and say, "AWESOME."

Her teacher, Mrs. S., hugged her goodbye and told her she loved her. We walked to our car, and Lucy kept her head down. I could tell she wasn't feeling great, but before we even got to the parking lot she had burst into tears.

"I don't want to end second grade, Mom," she wailed. "I don't want to not see Mrs. S. every day anymore!"

I reported this later to my brother, and we both just looked at each other. "I know," I told him. "BIZARRE. I don't get it either."

That is a testament to their school--they'd rather go there than have summer vacation. Go figure.

But now it is summer, and I started by getting out a fresh, new, little notebook and writing down a daily plan of what we're going to do. I have a whole drawer full of little notebooks that my mom wrote similar plans for summers long past in. It makes me happy to know there's continuity even if it all falls apart and I'm tearing my hair out by August, at least I started out with a plan.

One of our main rules is almost no computer time, so I'm wrapping this up and getting back to our scheduled summer activities. As I type this, Elaine is sitting next to me, pen in hand, writing her numbers in a notebook and playing dot-to-dot. Can't wait to see what kindergarten brings this girl!

unTangled

This is a summary of how we all felt after this weekend. In the interest of full disclosure, shortly before I took this picture, I was right there in the bed with them.


This weekend I went to Living Proof Live while Darren and the girls hung out at a hotel and swam 8+ hours per day. I've pretty much been looking forward to this weekend more than Christmas. I'm not sure I've had a time in my life when I have felt more pulled, torn, weighted down, I don't even know what.

The first night of the conference opened with a video montage of these verses: Psalm 116:1-7 "I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live. The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came upon me; I was overcome by trouble and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the Lord: 'O LORD, save me!' The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you."

Then it ended with this photo (except with "un" in front of the title):
The next morning, the same montage was shown again at the beginning, except with these verses: Hebrews 12:1-2 "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

When I saw that I knew, as Beth said, that God Himself had invited each of us personally to this event. Between Friday and Saturday there were probably 4-5 hours of speaking and 2-3 hours of worship (interspersed), so I will boil it down to the main points Beth had. There wasn't one that did not apply to me personally:

1) God can untangle us when life's about to kill us.
2) God can untangle us when we're tangled up inside.
3) God can untangle us when our motives are in tangles.
4) The Cross has already cut the ropes of entangling sin.
5) Those untangled once can be well tangled again.
6) A grudge can entangle us where we need untangled most.
7) If destruction fails to entangle us, distraction will do its best.
8) God can make a mighty soldier out of anyone willing to get untangled.
9) Whatever tries to tangle with us, tangles with God!

Each point was supported with multiple Scriptures (I had no idea there were so many verses either using the English or the Greek/Hebrew for "entangled"). My absolute favorite part was point 8: God can make a mighty soldier out of anyone willing to get untangled. This was based on 2 Timothy 2:1-4 "Timothy, my dear son, be strong through the grace that God gives you in Christ Jesus. You have heard me teach things that have been confirmed by many reliable witnesses. Now teach these truths to other trustworthy people who will be able to pass them on to others. Endure suffering along with me, as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. Soldiers don’t get tangled up in the affairs of civilian life, for then they cannot please the officer who enlisted them."

Then she showed us 1 Peter 3:3 "Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel—" The term "arranging" there in the Greek is "empleko," which is the same word used in the 2 Timothy reference "tangled up." It has the inference of intertwining. So Beth called two ladies out of the audience up on stage and did their hair. She had the brushes and the clips and everything. She said she's always wanted to be a hairdresser and have Ms. Beth's House of Hair. The first woman she braided her hair. The second woman she gave a high ponytail (not without a bit of teasing and back-combing first).

In the midst of everyone laughing and cheering, she turned them around so we could see their new hairstyles--then showed us how we can't take godliness and worldliness and braid them together and wear them in our life. To be a good soldier, we need everything pulled back into one God-ponytail. It was so fantastic (though when I tried to explain this awesome illustration and truth to Darren afterwards, he said, "Could this be done using power tools instead?" Definitely a girl thing.)
We closed on Saturday afternoon with a commissioning out of Hebrews 12: 1-2 and a final segment of worship. When we got there Friday night, Beth told us that the purpose of this weekend was not to go away and say, "I'm going to try and be a better Christian," rather to get to the heart of all our various entanglements, gain some clarity, begin to throw them off, fix our eyes on Jesus, and keep running that race.

At the ending, Travis and the worship team cranked up with this one, and if they hadn't, I think I would have had to just do it myself:



All in all, more than I could have even hoped for in this weekend. I feel energized and ready to throw off some entanglements. And throw in a nap here and there, too.

Things Fall Apart...and are put back together

I just finished spring semester at community college, and on May 31 I'll be starting my university class that I call "my baby" as in "my baby is being born on May 31." More on that later, but it's a class I'll not only be teaching for the first time, but I also wrote the curriculum for it.

A week or so ago, while I was putting the finishing touches on that class, I got an email from the university saying that they didn't have anyone to teach a class called "Literature, Life, & Ideas," and would I be interested and oh also, it starts May 19? I think you can pretty much guess what my answer was.

Now I'm furiously preparing for Literature, Life, and Ideas, and the first book I will be teaching this Thursday is Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart. And of course during this time, the girls have myriad end-of-the-year activities that I have to prepare them for, then my dad both moved and wound up in intensive care. So in the midst of going back and forth to the hospital and baking treats for Lucy's class and making sure Elaine is dressed as a cat for the Pre-K 4 alphabet parade, I'm running around the world, screeching, "I have to know everything there is to know about Things Fall Apart!" And no, the poetic irony of that title does not escape me.

There is so much I could say about Things Fall Apart--which is a great book and you should read it. It's essentially the story of an African man within a tribe in Nigeria in the late 1800s whose world falls apart with the arrival of white missionaries. The two missionaries (aptly named Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown) pretty much embody all the ugly stereotypes of missionaries and imperialists.

A big part of my job at this particular university, since it's a Christian one, is to teach the students how to respond to...whatever--literature, media, etc.--as a follower of Jesus should. I have a great respect for Mr. Achebe's work and opinion, and I'm not even saying I disagree with it. A lot of ugly things have been done in the name of Christ and through mission work.

My undergraduate degree is actually in missions, so I hope I can bring some of that to the discussion on Thursday. I've had about a thousand thoughts swirling in my head over this book, recent events, and recent conversations I've had, and I hope to sort through a little of that here.

A few years ago, Darren and I read Randy Alcorn's The Treasure Principle together. It's a short, little book that contains 6 keys:
1) God owns everything. I am His money manager.
2) My heart always goes where I put God's money.
3) Heaven, not Earth, is my home.
4) I should live not for the dot but for the line. (Dot is here and now, line is eternity).
5) Giving is the only antidote to materialism.
6) God prospers me not to raise my standard of living, but to raise my standard of giving.

I think that was a starting point for us to both live and think differently. As we have gone through various financial struggles personally and along with the rest of the U.S. (here in our city, gas was $4.25 a gallon last week. In the suburbs, it was $4.45) there is one underlying truth that I keep learning over and over: We are so rich.

My brother and his wife just returned from visiting her family in the Philippines. They stayed with her family, who own farms and a school, and also at a resort, but the poverty in that country is staggering. As my brother says, "You realize that when Jesus talked about 'the rich man' He really means us."

One organization we have both been involved with for many years is Compassion International. I love this organization for so many reasons, but one of the main ones is that it is not the white people swooping in and imposing their culture and ideas, but is rather an indigenous work.

Darren and I began supporting a little girl in Ecuador a few years after we got married. I think she was 5 when we began sponsoring, now she is 17. Her name is Lizbet. And a few weeks ago, we decided as a family, to sponsor a little girl in the Philippines. Her name is Gleramil. We loved looking through all the pictures and stories on the Compassion site.

We picked Gleramil because she is 8 years old, like Lucy will be in a few weeks, and also because we have a resident Filipina in our family who can give us all sorts of inside scoop. Oh and also because in Gleramil's picture she had ponytails, and Elaine said, "I like that little girl's ponytails."

Last week, we got our first letter from Gleramil's mom. A huge part of Compassion sponsorship is correspondence. As part of their blog community, they encourage us to write letters to our kids every second Friday. The kids can write as often as they want, but they are required to write to us 3-4 times per year, which the center where they attend helps them with.

In this letter we got to find out the names of Gleramil's parents and her siblings (we showed the letter to Chuck and Rome, and I said "Check it out; all the kids' names are combos of the parents' names." They laughed and said that is the Filipino way. Rome and her siblings are all combo names. She got lucky with a pretty name. Some of them...not so much.)

We got to find out Gleramil's favorite color, that she likes to play hide-and-seek, and that her favorite food is chicken joy (that is fried chicken from a popular fast food place called Jolly B--like how American kids like Chicken McNuggets. Rome said, "They serve it with rice," and Chuck said, "Yeah, surprise, surprise.")

Her mom wrote to us: "I am so happy and I am very thankful to you and to God that my child has a sponsor and I'm also thankful she was able to join Compassion. This is a great help to her studies and to us, her parents."

In the area where they live, most adults are unemployed. Those that are employed as day-laborers make an average of $55. A month.

We pray for these kids each day and keep their pictures on our refrigerator, but it's not just us, making a difference in their lives. They are making a huge difference in ours. We have some money we can share, but they give us love and friendship and perspective and prayer. Besides praying for them every day, I ask our adopted girls to pray for their sponsor mom and dad and sisters. We need it.

At our former church, we used to say the Apostles' Creed together every Sunday. I love all the words of that, but especially, "I believe in the holy, catholic church...the communion of saints." When we do missions in a human way, things fall apart. But when we let Jesus have His church, the universal church without walls or borders, it can be a little taste of what eternity will be like.

I will leave you with two things that have rocked my world this last week (also, I would say I spend waaaaay too much time on the Compassion site, but it is so worth it). The first is a blog post you can find here, one of my top 5 favorite blog posts ever. The second is a video you can find here. I just want to give you a glimpse of how things can be and hopefully lift your heart. Advisory (learned from experience): go grab a kleenex before you start reading and/or watching.

Oh, one last thing: Compassion puts together yearly trips where sponsors can visit various countries and meet their kids. I don't know if that dream will ever come true for us, but this year's trip is to the Philippines! It begins May 29. A band of bloggers and a photographer always go on the trips, so they'll be live blogging while they're there. If you're interested, you can follow it here. I wonder if they will meet our girl?

Both Sides of the Story

Here is an article I wrote recently.

For Mother's Day 2011

(**All quotes taken from Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss.)

On the whole, there is nobody like one’s mother.


Other people will see your faults, but only your mother will have the courage to speak of them.


I do wonder if I shall ever really learn that Mother knows more than I do!


I realize that it is to her I owe that early, deep-seated longing to please the Lord Jesus, which I never remember as having a beginning or an ending, though it did have its fluctuations.


I don’t see how Mother can love me so, after the way I have behaved.


Dear Mother! She has gone now, where she always goes when she feels sad, straight to God. Of course she did not say so, but I know Mother.


Mother made no reply, except by a look which said about a hundred and forty different things.


I wonder if, after all, mothers are not the best friends there are!


Moral—Mothers occasionally know more than their daughters do.


I longed to have my children become old enough to fully appreciate her sanctified character.



I thought no human being was less selfish, more loving than she had been for many years, but the spirit that now took possession of her flowed into her heart and life directly from that great Heart of love, whose depths I had never even begun to sound.


It is a pleasant picture to see her with my little darlings about her, telling the old sweet story she told me so often and making God and Heaven and Christ such blissful realities.


The atmosphere in which we all lived was one which cannot be described; the love for all of us and for every living thing that flowed in Mother’s words and tones passed all knowledge.



My dear mother’s influence is always upon me. To her I owe the habit of flying to God in every emergency and of believing in prayer.


Surely the crown she has won by such a struggle must be brighter than the stars! And this crown she is, even now, while I sit here choked with tears, casting joyfully at the feet of her Savior!


My steadfast aim now is to follow in my mother’s footsteps; to imitate her cheerfulness, her benevolence, her bright inspiring ways, and never to rest till in place of my selfish nature I become as full of Christ’s love as she became.


I miss you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day! Heaven can't come soon enough now that you're there.

Lucy and Mom Day

Earlier this year, both girls begged me for some personal "Mama Time" that they wouldn't have to share with their sister. They share a room and activities and lots of other things, so it's important to me that they get their own special time on their own with Mom and/or Dad.

However, work and the weather have been conspiring against us until this past weekend. I've been waiting a long time to take Lucy to this particular spot, and Saturday was the absolute perfect day to go to The Little Traveler in Geneva. Lucy had never been before and didn't know what to expect.

"I can't really describe it, but I promise you'll like it, " I told her.

We got there right about lunch time, so we headed to the Garden Cafe first.

As we got our Sierra Mists, Lucy lifted her glass, clinked it with mine, and said solemnly, "To Freedom!" (She kills me.)

The cute bathroom:

We visited almost all the rooms--candy shop, gourmet food shop, antiques, china/glassware, flower shop, the Christmas shop (a big hit especially with the many little villages there), the baby shop, stationery, jewelry, and hats.

We stopped at the toy shop twice and handled all the Madame Alexander dolls two or three times. There were Wizard of Oz dolls and Little Women dolls (complete with Amy's Paris wardrobe!), dolls from around the world, and, interestingly, Henry the VIII's wives dolls (with heads intact).

"Who's this one?" Lucy asked, picking up a black-haired doll with Renaissance-style jewelry.

"Lucretia Borgia," I read off the tag (I thought she was supposed to blond?). "She was a poisoner," I added.

"Like, she killed people with poison?" Lucy asked.

"Mmm-hmmm," I said.

She digested that historical tidbit for a moment. "Well, I really like her outfit," she said magnanimously.


We, of course, visited the tea shop, where we got an end-of-the-year gift for Lucy's teacher. They had a special Wedding blend (but it was decaffeinated aka pointless).

After we'd exhausted all the shops, we strolled around town, chatting, taking pictures, and enjoying one of the only nice days of spring we've had here in Illinois.

St Mark's...



Pretty houses and flowers...



Bluebells!


This was Lucy's favorite because it was both yellow and had a balcony, her dream house:

I liked this one, and it was for sale! though sadly out of my price range (actually, it's lower than I thought it would be--hard economic times and all). (Also, I'm realizing as I add this picture that it looks a lot like the house we already have. No wonder I like it.)


After our walk, we stopped by A Moveable Feast for dessert and ate it outside on a bench in the sunshine.

We drove home, and Lucy borrowed my phone so she could call Elaine and tell her all about it.

"Didn't we have the best day, Mom?" she sighed when we got home.

Yes, we certainly did!

(Watch for "Elaine and Mom Day" coming soon!)

The Long-Awaited Day

Aunt Julie arriving yesterday evening. She drove up I-90 in her tiara.

We got up at 4:00 a.m. Coverage started at 3 here, but we figured we could easily look up the Queen's proclamation on what their titles would be online.

Slightly sleepy but excited:



Appropriate snacks and England's No. 1 tea:


Special wedding cookies sent by Julie's mom:


The sun is now up, and Yo-Yo is worn out from the festivities:


All week long I've endured people's snarky comments and FB status updates on what a silly waste of time this wedding is and how they don't care. I've bitten my tongue, even though most of them are the same people of whom I have to read their constant inane updates about overgrown, overpaid boys, playing incomprehensible sports games. Are there royal weddings every week? I think not. Hey, you--get off of my cloud.

On the radio the other day, they had people call in and say why they cared about the royal wedding and of course there were the women who said, "It's because every girl and woman wants to be a princess!"

Um, no.

It's because this is an historic event--seeing the future King William married in the same abbey where William the Conqueror was coronated.

It's also because, for whatever reason, since I've been a child this family has fascinated me. I got up while it was still nighttime 30 years ago to watch Diana and Charles's wedding. I watched the public announcement of William's birth. And of course I watched the heartbreaking ordeal of two teenage boys, walking down the streets of London behind their mother's coffin--with a little handwritten card, saying "Mummy" on their flowers for her.

I watched for the chance to see them all make that same procession but for a happier occasion today. As Julie said, "We needed to see him come through the streets, but happy now."



Finally, for all the naysayers, isn't it just nice for a change for the world to pause for a moment and watch something joyous rather than some hideous catastrophe?

And, of course, there was also this (breathtaking!):

Yay!

Congratulations to the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge!

Now back to your regularly-scheduled cynicism.

A Fallen Hero

In the midst of tornadoes all over the South and lots of excitement (at our house anyway) about the royal wedding tomorrow, I woke up this morning to hear that one of my heroes, David Wilkerson, died in a car accident yesterday. He is the author of The Cross & the Switchblade, a book that greatly affected me, along with Run Baby Run, written by Nicky Cruz, and Second Chance by Israel Narvaez. Both Cruz and Narvaez were friends of David Wilkerson and some of his early converts.

According to his bio, David Wilkerson was an Assemblies of God preacher in a little country church, who left to minister to gang members on the streets of New York. His work there eventually grew into Teen Challenge, a ministry that is still thriving today. On their website, they say: "The family of Teen Challenge USA is immeasurably saddened today at the loss of our founder, Rev. David Wilkerson. Rev. Wilkerson was killed in a car accident in which his wife, Gwen, was also injured and is in serious condition. “Brother Dave” was used by God in 1958 to reach out to gang members in New York City. Through that singular act of obedience, tens of thousands of those bound by drug, alcohol and other addictions have found freedom through Jesus Christ–there are 233 centers in the US, and 1187 total worldwide, providing help to as many as 25,000 people needing deliverance through the power of God."

Though I never met him or heard him speak, I was greatly influenced by this man's life and ministry--he is a big part of why I went to Moody Bible Institute and hold a degree in Urban Ministries.

I'm thrilled he's in heaven now and pray for his wife and family. Here is David Wilkerson's last blog post, dated yesterday.

Lifted Up

Last night I slept badly, I woke up early this morning without the aid of my alarm--fortunately, because I discovered also that it's broken--and I looked out the window this mid-April day to see grey skies and snow on the ground.

Add to that that this is the girls' spring break and I had hoped to do all sorts of fun things involving the outside with them, and it's supposed to be cold and rainy the whole time. Plus, I can't help but think of this time last year when everything started its downward spiral, and that fills me with anxiety, and combined with a bunch of other things, I just felt low and discouraged to start this Monday.

I wanted to log in to the Scripture memory site I'm in (memorizing one verse every two weeks) because I was a few days late in entering my verse for April 15. I got out my 3 x 5 card spiral where I write all my verses, and as I flipped them over to get to a fresh card, I found this little surprise:



If you can't read that photo, it says in Lucy's best, newly learned cursive:

"For my mom: I love you're [sic] verses! Keep up the good work! I love you! Do you love me? I know you'll say yes."

And my verse for this two weeks is:

Psalm 3:3 "But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head."

For some reason, today that verse sounds a lot like me saying--For God: I love You! Do You love me? I know You'll say yes!"

Then on the way to work, I listened to this song. I listen to the version by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, but here's the original. By the time I got to the stoplight at Spring Brook and Alpine, I was doing my best caucasian interpretation of Calvin Hunt (soloist), no doubt noted by the policeman who pulled up next to me.

So, if you're feeling discouraged today, I hope this lifts your head like it lifts mine:

Beverly's Birthday

Today is children's author Beverly Cleary's 95th birthday. Here is a nice article in the NY Times, profiling her.

I began to read Beverly's books as soon as I could read. My first was Ramona the Pest. Ramona's kindergarten room was just like mine; I grew up on Blanchard Street, which could have doubled for Klickitat Street, and my brother was kind of a dead ringer for Henry Huggins, a smaller, beleaguered boy with good ideas that didn't quite come through and a paper route.

I adored Beverly's pre-teen and teen books (so innocent! so funny!): Fifteen, The Luckiest Girl, Jean and Johnny, and my favorite, Sister of the Bride. I can remember standing at the library shelves, looking at the many, many Beverly Cleary titles and deciding which one I was going to read (or rerererereread).

I own many of them now, and my girls can't get enough of them either. Of course, they ARE Beezus and Ramona--Lucy, the smart, serious, long-suffering big sister, and Elaine, the pesky, vocal younger sister who thinks she's a cat in curlers. Recently when Lucy had to pick one of the 50 states to write about, she chose Oregon. When her teacher asked why, Lucy said, "Because that's where Beverly Cleary is from," (and added to me later: "Mrs. Shockey knows I'm all about the books, Mom.")

So far, I think their favorites are Mitch and Amy (loooove it) and one you don't hear of much, Emily's Runaway Imagination. That one is a little departure from the contemporary, middle class American dramas and is set at the beginning of the 20th century, but it is a hoot. The chapter where Emily gets the pigs drunk at the Ladies' Aid Society meeting is worth the price of the book. I also have to give a special shout-out to the 50th Anniversary audio version of Henry Huggins, read by Neil Patrick Harris, who is brilliant. He does all the voices, and no matter how many times I hear the chapter "The Green Christmas," I laugh out loud.

Despite how times have changed and the influx of junk there is out there for kids, I love how in the NY Times article, a librarian says she still can't keep Beverly's books on the shelves. She is an author whom I never have to pre-read before I read to my kids.

Happy 95th birthday, Beverly Cleary!

Which are your favs?

To Read and To Watch

First off, I have become hopelessly addicted to these books. I have no control. I keep telling myself that I need to pace myself; I'll want some great mysteries to read for summer, but I keep going to the library and checking them out, three at a time, charging through them, then going back for three more. I highly recommend them, and, while I bet it would be nice to read them in order, it doesn't seem necessary.

Then, there is this coming up, beginning on Sunday night. I.am.so.pumped.



I was really little when the first Upstairs, Downstairs came on, but I've spent some of this winter trying to catch up via Netflix. It's an interesting exercise. The first episodes were shot in black and white, which was kind of distracting. It's all extremely low budget, and the actors seem to be overacting (and speaking extra loudly) as if they were on stage instead of on film. However, it is one of, if not, the most-loved Masterpiece series of all time. Over one billion people have seen it. That kind of blows my mind. So I am completely excited that they've decided on an updated version, yet still starring Jean Marsh and (the incomparable) Eileen Atkins, the original co-creators of the show. The script is written by Heidi Thomas who wrote my beloved "Cranford."

There's been a bit of competition between this and Downton Abbey, which has sort of a similar theme--the lives of the wealthy family upstairs and the servants downstairs. Jean Marsh got a bit squiffy about it in an interview, saying Downton is a poor imitation of Upstairs, Downstairs, so Hugh Bonneville (Lord Grantham from Downton) tweeted: "I thought Jean Marsh was bigger than that - running down Downton while bigging up Upstairs? Downton never downed Up when upping Down." Then Eileen Atkins volleyed back, "In the music hall, you have a warm-up act and then you have a star turn. I feel that Downton has been a fantastic warm-up." Whatever, I'm thrilled about them both and can't wait to watch the new Upstairs, Downstairs, which will be airing April 10, 17, and 24. You can read more about it here.

Lastly, we're going out on a limb this week and watching some network TV. (I basically have sworn off network TV for most of this past year, with the exception of one season of Dancing with the Stars solely because of this and this, which I am embarrassed of, but there you go.) But this Tuesday starts the second season of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. We didn't watch the first season where he went to Huntington, VA, which is the unhealthiest city in America, and helped revamp their school lunch program. In this second season, he's heading to Los Angeles. In the new issue of Better Homes and Gardens, they feature Jamie, some of his healthy, kid-friendly recipes, and an easy guide to planting your own small vegetable garden. Darren agreed to dig us the garden, and I ordered the seeds that Jamie said to (Darren said, "You know you can buy seeds at Farm-n-Fleet, Alice.") Jamie claims that anyone can grow vegetables, that if you just put a seed in the ground and give it water and sunlight, 8 1/2 times out of 10 it will grow. Those of you who know my plant-growing odds, I could certainly be in the 1 1/2 failure group, but the girls and I are going to give it a whirl. In fact, that's my blog plan for the summer--showing you a step-by-step of our garden plan and planting, any harvesting (I'm thinking positive!), and then our healthy cooking we'll be doing.

I told Lucy, "Food Revolution starts this Tuesday, and I'll let you stay up an extra hour to watch it. I will tell you that it's reality TV and Jamie Oliver is known to say inappropriate words, so we may end up not watching it and just seeing small clips and reading his articles."

Lucy said, "Inappropriate words like the s-word and the d-word?"

Me: "Um, I think sooooo" (frantically thinking, "how does she know the s-word and d-word already?") until she said softly, "You know, Mom: S-T-U-P-I-D and D-U-M-B."

Here's a clip of Food Revolution (I am all about the clips today!)


There you go--plenty to read and watch for this spring!

The Results Are In!

I must say, I could do without another week like this one ever again. Sometime in the night on Sunday, I got sick. I taught my class on Monday morning, then came home and crawled back in bed, not to get out again until Wednesday night when I had promised to sub for a friend (both Wednesday AND Thursday nights).

I took my big jug of lemonade with me and took cautious sips the whole time. That and three Archway windmill cookies are what I've had to eat this week. "Mama threw up in the shower," Elaine helpfully reported to the rest of the family, so it's better this way. Right now I'm at the point where food seems like a nice concept that I'm sure I'll embrace again at some point in life, but...not today.

And in the midst of it all, Darren has been Mr. Mom (and doing a great job), and Lucy has been reading, reading, reading. This morning before school I tallied everything she'd done (and I know I've probably missed some things) over the last eight days, and here is the total:

2,009 pages!!

We are so proud of her. She did not win (humph!) individually in the second grade, but her class beat the other second grades out for the most pages read, so they do get either a pizza or ice cream party (see? That sounds kind of good...but not good enough to try it)--their choice.

Today was the big Read-a-thon assembly day where all the students and teachers dress up as book characters, and the prizes were awarded.

Here is our girl aka Nancy Drew. Now you know she did have absolutely the cutest costume:

Besides the magnifying glass (borrowed from my dad), she also had a small notebook marked "Clues," in which she wrote down what everyone else's costumes were so she could come home and tell me about it. She said that when the winning second grade was announced, her class screamed louder than any of the others in the school, their teacher included.

Lucy does get some other prizes, including a gift certificate to a mini-golf place and a free meal at Sonic, which...nope. Doesn't sound good yet.

So, that was Read-a-thon 2011, and she is already planning for reading domination next year, plus what costume she will wear.

Normally I'd have a celebration dinner for her, but...