Hatching

We could've watched
these little guys hatch
all day! In fact, I think
we did.

I think the best parts of being a parent are the times when you get to do the things you really wanted to do all along, but have possibly outgrown, "for the kids." Like "finishing off" a bowl of Goldfish crackers, sledding, or, this past March, hatching eggs. (Yes, I know it's April. Hatching eggs is a lot of work, and I'm only now feeling caught up.) No self-respecting 4-H group would ever send home a carton of fertilized eggs with a regular grown-up, but if you have kids? Here, have them. 

Which is how I found myself tenderly driving home a grocery-store egg carton filled with relatively normal-looking eggs wrapped in a towel the first day of our spring break. (Isn't cute that they rode home in an egg carton?) I heard about the program from a Facebook group and, despite the fact that I didn't want to drive 30 minutes to a random spot in Missouri (twice) at very specific and somewhat inconvenient times to participate, I bit the bullet and signed up. Or, should I say, bit the pullet? Get it? Get it? (No pullets were harmed in the telling of that horrible pun.) 

 I didn't tell the girls until they caught Matt setting up the ol' incubator. Yes, of course we own an incubator. Doesn't everyone? Even our friends seem to know this about us, as once one called us just to see if we had one, because they'd found a random egg on their lawn and wanted to see if it would hatch (it didn't). Their excitement wasn't diminished by the fact that we also happened to have two types of tadpole eggs in a Tupperware on the kitchen counter, apparently the only place for science experiments in our house full of biologists. 

It's like a schoolbus for eggs.

 At any rate, I was to pick up the eggs Monday afternoon. I was so excited to be handed a dozen chick-nurseries that I forgot to ask what type they were. No matter--we'll love them anyway. Back at home, the girls helped me carefully mark x's and o's on them to help us keep track of the rotation schedule. The eggs were on day 13 of incubation, and would likely hatch around day 21. Naturally, we made all kinds of rookie mistakes--possibly adjusting thing incubator too high, and adding cold water instead of warm to increase the humidity, which of course made the temperature dip quite a bit. This was all within about the first 12 hours, and I was convinced that we'd already ruined everything. Omelet, anyone? But we kept on, possibly just because it would've been a huge shame to just give up. 

Naomi, who is grossed out by anything "human body," (which includes chicken body, apparently), helped turn the eggs once or twice, but began opting out the first time we candled an egg. Which was unbelievably cool, by the way--we could see veins, the air sac, and, eventually, movement! She also opted out of candling eggs once she got her first view of veins but, fortunately, stuck around for the hatching and the holding of chicks (spoiler alert).

We all quickly got into the habit of watching the eggs, as though they were going to do anything before about day 20-ish. [To be honest, I was watching the temperature, which Matt kept bumping down based on something he'd Googled, and I kept pushing up based on what the care sheet I was handed said.] I personally was surprised by how much time this took. Our first week of chicks happened to land on our spring break week, so ogling a bunch of eggs was no biggie. But the second week...it was a good thing we're ahead in most of our work, because nothing much other than math and writing got done.

This was partly because, as a part of the program I didn't quite understand at first, we actually had to prove that we used the chicks for education, and not just as temporary pets. In truth, I was pretty motivated to dig in anyway, and grateful for the excuse to make the project more academic--even more so because someone else required the work ("Girls, if we don't write papers/stories/etc. about what we learned, they might not let us have chicks next year!"). We spent hours watching chick (and salamander, and frog, and baby) development videos as Naomi closed her eyes, covered her ears, and hummed; reading about chickens and a lonely hawk who raised chicks; labeling the parts of an egg; looking at egg parts under a microscope; learning about chicken breeds and farms; and finally, writing up our projects. 

We learned a ton, but the most memorable experience was probably the video entitled "The Natural History of Chickens." What would you expect from this video? Possibly something about how chickens began as wild junglefowl and ended up in virtually every cooking pot, at some time or another, across the globe? Maybe something about different varieties of chickens, and their interactions with chickens? But not, perhaps, a woman who bathes her rooster daily, dresses him up and takes him on car rides, or a man who literally is able to sound exactly like a rooster? I guess we still learned a lot... and I'm glad to say it was too much even for Kalina.

Chick #1, newly
hatched!

Finally, after turning, candling, fretting, and then, most difficult of all, leaving the eggs completely alone, we were rewarded Monday morning, day 20, with a single hole in one egg--a pip. We hadn't wrecked them all, at least! But we did worry a whole lot more. By that afternoon, the pip had been extended, another egg had been seen to wiggle and, most adorable of all, we heard the cutest little peep from the pipped egg. What's more, the girls and I all were able to watch the egg get "unzipped," and observe through the tiny incubator window as a damp little chick pushed its way out of it's egg, and landed on the mesh floor of the incubator.

We immediately worried. It still had a little piece of egg on it! Would it cut itself on the mesh? Could it walk okay? It's running into other eggs--shouldn't they be left alone? Can it cut itself on an eggshell? It's lonely!!!

When you have 
chicks at Easter,
you take Easter
pictures. Grateful
to my neighbor for
the suggestion!

The only thing we actually needed to have worried about was the last one: our chick, instinctively looking for someone to imprint on, was indeed lonely. After the first hour or so that it spent stumbling around on its brand-new legs, he would meet our gaze when we peeked in on him as if to ask, "Are you my mother?" Even worse was the intense, freaked-out peeping. We felt pretty miserable for the little guy, but couldn't do anything about it--he would just have to wait for his brothers and sisters to hatch. One had already pipped, in fact!

We temporarily solved the problem of loneliness but dimming the lights, which seemed to help the little guy get to sleep. Still, it was probably a rough night. The next morning, Little Peep gained two new friends, which only created more problems, as he acted a bit rude, as though having been able to walk for 12 hours already meant that he could pick on those who had only been walking for 30 minutes or so. 

Our instructions directed us to remove him from the incubator when he was dry and fluffy. But the copious amounts of water I'd added to the incubator to help with hatching prevented Little Peep from drying out. Do I remove him?!? I sent a frantic email to the coordinator and, upon not hearing back within 15 minutes, decided to remove him anyway to our pre-warmed bin. Because of course we own a heat lamp, too.

Once the cats realized they 
couldn't eat the new chick,
they decided to befriend it.

Little Peep clearly missed his friends, as his gentle peeps became loud, troubled peeps again, but the cats soon helped with that by nestling up to the bin and keeping him company. Actually, at first they tried to attack him through the plastic, but quickly learned that they couldn't get in (they're used to bird feeders so they know this game). What's more, we were able to hold the little guy, which seemed to help as well.

Chick-babysitting is
hard work, plus it
was naptime.

Throughout the day, and up until the next morning, 7 more chicks hatched, for a total of 10. (*sniff* It was a sad day when we turned off the incubator.) We were able to observe most of them. We became accustomed to their gentle peeping, and then the real fun began as we gained confidence in holding them. Only about the first 4-6 received names and birth stats, though, as pretty soon we couldn't keep track of them. Little Peep, Snow White, and Pipsqueak were some names. We tracked their first pip, the time they started unzipping, and the hatch time. 

Although they weren't supposed to need food for 72-ish hours after hatching, we put some in, seeing as they kept pecking around. Soon, they'd all learned to eat and drink. 

Chick naptime--but I think I
woke them up.

And being flock animals, they quickly adapted to each others' habits. We'd frequently peek in and see everyone napping in little clumps around the bin, only to all wake up like dominos if any one did. 

The date set to return the chicks arrived all too soon in all but one respect: their cage needed a good cleaning. We said difficult goodbyes and assured Naomi that they would be taken to nice farms or given to 4-H kids as pets. 

I think I was pretty much awarded Mom of the Year for this project, a label quickly forgotten the next time they opened a math workbook or something equally odious. But still, I'm pretty sure that somewhere, somehow, it counts.

Kids in the kitchen

Our Rice Krispie
castle to "help us
learn about castles!"

With temperatures in the single digits and the pandemic still very much present, we've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen nowadays. Sometimes I think I should just move in. But we've also made a lot of amazing food, which brings me to the topic of kids in the kitchen.

I first started cooking with Kalina by my side when I found myself ending up cooking often (3-7 times per day) and always with Kalina, well, by my side. Because she never left. In fact, once I even started writing in my head a cookbook of recipes you could easily complete with a baby in a front carrier, without injuring the baby (it had one recipe: PBJ). 

So Kalina spent many meals riding on my hip, as did her sisters. As soon as she was steady enough, I pulled up chair, barricaded it with other chairs, and stood her on it so she could "help," hovering over her lest squeeze herself through the small gaps and tumble off. And help she did! I'm pretty sure she could break and egg and measure baking soda accurately at 2 or 3, as could the others.

Of course, that's not the full story. Most of the early days of cooking with kids including watching them like a hawk as they spill an unknown and unmeasurable fraction of the baking soda on the counter, wiping up and recalculating after they break eggs half in the bowl and half out, and bringing out the broom at least once or twice, and often the vacuum.

So cold our bubbles flattened!

Which naturally generated some stealthy behavior on my part. The challenge, on occasion: to throw together something without the toddler at the time seeing--because sometimes I didn't have an hour and a half to make a batch of cookies. Once I nearly succeeded in making an entire batch of pancakes in blissful ease all by myself, only to be sabotaged when I was nearly finished. "I want to help!" -Elise. No biggie--the 2-year-old can certainly stir a batch of pancakes, right? Not without pulling the bowl off the counter and all over herself and the chair, she can't! Fortunately (for me, anyway), Matt walked in the door from work shortly afterward and was able to supervise a quick bath while I whipped up another fancy breakfast-for-dinner meal. Look at me go!

It didn't take the girls long to learn that baking = chocolate chips about 90% of the time. They quickly learned to love baking, and all the little tastes that go along with it. Still. Still the tastes. 

By age 5, Elise was creating her own cupcake recipes that we all somehow pretended to like (maybe we only liked the frosting?). First, she added too much milk and salt to the flour concoction. They took 30 minutes to "bake" (read: cook off all the liquid) and the texture was...less than cakey. But with enough butterscotch chips and apple chunks, paired with the frosting, they were tolerable. Next, too much egg. Matt "saved his for later" and "gave the rest to Grandpa," while I consumed some, hid the rest, and made sure Kalina's helping was 2/3 frosting so she could get it down without making any of the obvious comments. Then we adventured into such "extras" as baking soda and vanilla, and reasonable amounts of sugar and salt, which helped. By age 8 or 9, the cupcakes were quite tolerable, and at 10, she discovered the merits of lemon peel added to her "chocolate bite" cupcakes, which seems to have completed the recipe. She's even handed it out.

Naomi has been
sewing felt
animals completely
on her own! (The
purple puppy is
not one of her
creations...)

Fast forward a decade, and everyone is helpful. Actually helpful, as long as I'm not in a hurry. They can chop with real knives. They can handle raw meat (if they're not too grossed out). Cookies are not a problem. And Elise is finally willing to cook with, and learn from, a cookbook. (She still firmly believes that a recipe doesn't really count unless you made it up yourself, though.)

Things that haven't changed: We still make a pretty big mess (granted, sometimes it's because our projects are bigger) that no one wants to clean up. However, while the broom always comes out, the vacuum and mop often get to stay put. Also, the tastes--they've gotten both sneakier and bolder.

I've also still retained some of the habits of panic-cooking that I gained over years of just waiting for some meltdown or catastrophe as the veggies are burning in the pan or my hands are covered with raw meat. Even now, I attack the meal. No relaxing music while I leisurely and lovingly put together dinner. Even though I almost probably could, since meltdowns are a bit rarer (or at least different) nowadays, if I weren't simultaneously teaching pre-algebra, accompanying voice practice and guessing the answers to strange riddles.

I do, however, summon my patience, still, to let the girls help nearly as often as they want. Even if it means dinner will be 15 minutes late due to beginner carrot-chopping or biscuit-making. It's literally all I can do not to shove the child out of the way and take over, and I probably have once or twice over the years, but this is one of the ways in which being a parent grows you. Sometimes I even keep my voice patient as I say, soothingly (I hope), "I'm trying really hard to get this in the oven fast, Sweetie! So let's focus and get 'er done! Thanks for your 'help!'" Sometimes I hope they can't audibly hear the quotations around "help."

As Kalina has grown, she's enjoyed making meringues, deviled eggs, guacamole, and honestly anything that's a little bit "fancy." Her cookies will all be evenly shaped and beautifully decorated, and anything that's hand-shaped will look uniformly neat and tidy. But she's also good with chopping up veggies when called on for a special project, and enjoys peeling onions and garlic. She also made up a sandwich-themed PBJ casserole one evening, and has plans to make some more (ham and cheese, BLT, etc.).

When asked on a random night if she'd like to help with dinner, though, she'd rather read 90% of the time.

Unless, of course, we're making something exciting--like world cuisine. Every February we cook delicious Russian food, to go along with the frigid weather, and this February I think we outdid ourselves. 

Pelmini and borscht! So
yummy!

We always make borscht, pelmini, and blini, and this year added in piroshki, which were a bit high-maintenance, but super popular. Elise has been trying so hard to like pelmini, and found she finally did this year! She also almost likes borscht--enough to fix herself a nice bowlful, and eat a few bites. Kalina enjoys it all, as long as there are plenty of potatoes in the borscht. Naomi likes anything bready and fruity. Truly we're ready to open a Russian restaurant because it's all so yummy, and not too hard with the fact that the girls are usually actual helpers, and not the "wink-wink, nod-nod" types of helpers, unless of course I'm in a hurry.

Doesn't she look like
someone out of a
Beatrix Potter book?

Naomi in the kitchen is a bit of a different matter because she's in this easily grossed out phase (it's been a long one and a doozy) and won't touch anything that has even touched meat, or even sat on the same cutting board, even if the meat has been cooked. She also won't touch veggies that she doesn't eat (so, most of them). She won't help make anything she doesn't want to eat, except under duress, and wants to add chocolate chips to everything (don't we all?).Other than that, she's a great kitchen helper! She'll always have plenty of baked goods to eat.

The kittens are clearly
ready for warmer
weather!

What Naomi does like is to break eggs, and then let the slime drizzle through her fingers before submerging her whole hand and playing with the yolk. That's what she likes to do, but only manages to when I don't catch her at it. Potatoes? Disgusting. Raw egg up to her wrist? Sign her up!

And finally, possibly the best thing about kids in the kitchen, other than all the fun projects we take on, and the companionship, is the fact that at lunchtime I can say, "Go make lunch," and they can each pull together something reasonable and balanced efficiently and with hardly any help. Elise goes for grilled cheese, Kalina might boil herself an egg or pasta, or make some guac if there's an avocado, and Naomi instantly thinks bread and jam (to which I usually make her add peanut butter). And while they think that means they could totally survive on their own, at least I know it's a step in the right direction. 

A Covid Christmas

Even Covid can't stop Christmas! After a year that was strange, and yet somehow not wildly different, I think we all expected Christmas to be equally weird. But it wasn't entirely. Here's the breakdown:

We like to learn
Christmas traditions
around the world,
and this year we
celebrated St.
Nicholas Day!
Naomi (and Elise)
made this cute St.
Nick ornament.

Years past: Christmas crafts. Every year we make crafts, usually on a large scale for family members, and on a small scale for home decoration. This year: We'd learned how to make yo-yo Christmas trees in a sewing class so we ramped up production, and with everyone helping, made a whole bunch. We distributed them before Christmas instead of making people wait. And we substituted a really cool set of Scrabble coasters that we also made for one tree, the trees being somewhat girly. Done. Naomi, especially, also made the occasional Christmas craft, as is common, and we made a ton of crafty cards for a nursing home. The only real difference in our crafting was the fact that I also made fun Christmas face masks and a Covid Christmas ornament (a gingerbread man wearing a face mask--super cute!). Because I refuse to hang a toilet paper ornament on the tree, or anything that whines too much.

Spread cheer, not
Covid.

Years past: Christmas caroling. Usually we find a way to go caroling at a nursing home with a group. This year: We realized that caroling is really an outdoor activity anyway, and that nursing homes have windows. I organized an outdoor caroling event in early December. The weather was nice enough that many residents were able to listen to our singing through cracked windows or even on balconies. We sang at the tops of our lungs through masks, and thanks to some really enthusiastic girls, I think the residents were able to hear us! We also stuck homemade cards in baggies to the outsides of windows to be quarantined for a couple days before being brought inside. We were thanked through happy tears--apparently no one else thought of this and the residents have been somewhat neglected by the outside world. 

Naomi ready for the
Zoom piano recital.
The puppies totally
distracted her about
1 note from the end of
Away in a Manger!

Years past: Christmas performances. Whether a tiny ballet showcase or a large-scale production, we always have something to watch our kids perform in at Christmas. This year: We enjoyed a piano and voice recital via Zoom, and the fact that many family members were also able to watch. Two of us loved seeing Kalina's orchestra concert in person, while the rest watched from home. While we regretted not being able to attend more things in person, we counted all our blessings that Covid hadn't hit while Elise was acting in The Best Christmas Pageant Ever or Kalina was dancing in The Nutcracker. 

We rolled beeswax
candles and Kalina
made the advent box
with Matt!

Years past: The Nutcracker. A contingent of our family has always attended a version of the Nutcracker ever since Kalina was about 3. She's always loved it (and sat remarkably still even at a tiny age--even now I'm astonished she was able to soak it in that young!), and so have her sisters. We've seen productions both large and small, and some that mirror the Nutcracker but change the plot. It's all been amazing. This year: As we were studying Christmas around the world, we remembered that the Nutcracker ballet was born in Russia. A quick Google search found us tickets to the Moscow Ballet, from the comfort of our own couch. Best part--in our pajamas if we wish! (Kalina loves the Nutcracker, hates getting dressed up--and her sisters don't always love it, either.) So we carried on the tradition with one of the best ballet companies in the world--not bad! We watched it New Years Eve because we, amazingly, ran out of time before then.

Years past: Cookies. We always bake a variety, and often deliver them to neighbors. This year: We cleared this activity ahead of time with the neighbors, so no one felt uncomfortable receiving anything. We also took extra precautions while preparing the cookies. And as most have stayed with us, we've paced ourselves as we've worked our way through them. Yum!

The perfect tree amid rows of
perfect trees. Piney goodness!

Years past: Christmas tree. We usually get a tree at a store. We used to visit a farmer's market, until we realized that they really were waayyyy cheaper and not too much less fun at Lowe's, plus a good compromise to stop Matt from throwing in the towel and buying artificial. This year: Actually, this story starts more than a decade ago, pre-kids, when Matt and I made several attempts to chop down our own Christmas tree at various farms in North Carolina. We never found one that would really work--even with all my sentimentality, and turning the scraggly side to the wall, I just couldn't accept any of the twiggy beasts we'd deemed the "most workable trees in the entire field" into my home. So we gave up. But last year, when Matt read an article about Christmas tree farms during the holidays, he decided of his own accord we should give it another try (knowing, of course, I'd hop right on board--just as though I'd suggested to him we spend the day fishing).

Kind of a hodge-
podge, but beautiful
to us for all the
memories the
ornaments hold!

I set a reminder on my phone, not that I was likely to forget this promise. In an amazing turn of events, Christmas-tree-chopping lined up perfectly with our Covid avoidance strategy, so we found a farm and made the trip. Apparently Christmas trees grow much, much better in Kansas than in North Carolina, because within 5 minutes we'd found dozens of workable trees. We could've had one chopped and been on our way in under 20 minutes. However, not only did I want to maximize the time spent strolling among Christmas trees, I also was on a mission to find a white pine that would be full enough for our tastes. 

It turns out that all the naysaying the kids were doing was correct: there was not a white pine full enough to hold all our ornaments and fill out that corner of our room. Maybe they don't exist. In the meantime, we did find our perfect Christmas tree, plenty large and not too sharp (another requirement of the girls). Matt did most of the sawing, but Kalina and Elise helped.

Christmas tree and all, we were loaded onto a hayride where we met an astronaut. Of all the randomness. He'd been in space several times. He's friends with the Christmas tree farm owner and helps out every opening weekend (except next year he'll be a little inconvenienced by a trip to the ISS, and might not be able to make the round trip). 

I sense a new family tradition has been born! Add that to the list of highs for 2020.

Years past: Christmas movies. When the kids were really little, we usually watched a Veggie Tales Christmas show several times per season and called it good. More recently, we've traded the repetition for variety and we've found some favorites, including Elf (debuted for us last year), Rudolph (which Matt--if he watches--and I have to bite our tongue to keep from making snarky comments about and so destroy the Christmas magic) The Muppets Christmas Carol (which Naomi still doesn't like much, and probably won't for a few years), Arthur Christmas (which is probably about the only cartoon Matt sits in for because it's pretty hilarious even for grownups) and The Star (which we first saw in a theater and is just really well done for a humorous Christmas movie about the nativity). This year: With all our free evenings, we managed to squeeze in a couple extra movies, including a newer but not-Jim-Carrey version of The Grinch. This did require careful planning using a dry erase board, but we managed. Matt and I also screened a couple that have been popular in their day (the 90s and early 2000s) but were mildly amusing nowadays at best. At least compared to Elf.

Elise is the second angel from
the right!

Possibly the biggest hit this season My Sweet Holiday, a Hallmark-turned-Lifetime movie that Elise starred in. Okay, so maybe she didn't star, but she did appear, as did Naomi, Kalina, and I if you really squint. Elise's scene was truly the best part of the whole movie, unless you count the scenes in which they're demonstrating how to make yummy chocolates. We were mostly just really relieved she made it in, as depending on the camera angle, that was not a guarantee by any means. I'd promised her the large treat of her choice to share if the rest of us made an appearance but she didn't. Although I think we would've had to take a rain check on it judging by the number of Christmas cookies in the house.

A chilly, but surprisngly
nice night at the
Arboretum! The masks
kept us warm, and I'm
considering creating a
fleece-lined variety.

Years past: Lights. We always find time to drive through a variety of displays. This year: It's the perfect social-distancing activity! We visited two outdoor display, masked and outdoors--one with our AHG troop and the other at the Arboretum, plus Matt was even more willing than usual to trek around town. We did not, however, spend 3 hours in line for a larger display, as we did last year. Sure, we have extra time on our hands. But maybe still not that much extra time. 

Merry Christmas!!

Years past: presents. Generally, I dislike Christmas shopping much before Thanksgiving--although I'm occasionally ensnared by a rare find or a good deal. Shopping is usually finished before Christmas week, which is when all the wrapping happens. This year: Having heard that mail and package carriers would be overwhelmed, and goods would be in short supply (have we not all learned our lesson with the giant toilet paper mess of March 2020?), I resolved shop as early as possible. Instead of hiding all the toy catalogs that arrived shortly after Halloween, I instead handed them over to the girls encouraged them to go ahead and make their lists ASAP if they wanted any say in what they received. It wasn't until weeks later that I was handed final versions, but fortunately I know my kids.

I wasn't finished by Thanksgiving, but a lot of the packages were at least in the mail. Ironically, I didn't check the last box until a day or two before Christmas--because even during Covid last-minute gifts get added in or switched around. The tricky part was monitoring the package arrival. Due to a couple issues, I double-ordered one, and had to reorder another. Only one gift arrived late--and it was waiting on our step the morning of December 26. So in the end, the kids' Christmas haul was pretty good!

Years past: Seeing Santa. We usually manage a visit with the jolly old elf in some way--although this is never a major highlight for the girls (the don't always see the appeal of talking to a total stranger, even if that stranger is "Santa Claus"). Still, we have fun with it. This year: I'm sure there would've been creative options if we'd looked hard enough, but I was ready to pass until a (not at all uncool) neighbor dropped off some Santa, reindeer, and Christmas tree cat costumes for us to borrow. So the girls each had a 60-second spotlight with "Santa Claws," as represented by both cats because even the calmer one got grumpy after a minute or two. We loved this arrangement (see how the girls are even a little dressed up?), but the cats are rreeaaallly hoping Santa's back in person next year.

Years past: Christmas Eve. Usually, we scramble around finishing up last-minute tasks, before everything halts to a standstill as our tires squeal out of the driveway, in our rush to church. Because we're invariably all on edge from having to dress up and make it out the door on time to get seats together. This year: We'd actually had a little more time to choose and coordinate outfits, to the extent that Elise and I dressed alike (don't worry--no one was left out who didn't want to be, and Easter matching will be much more Naomi's style, anyway), and Naomi actually wasn't freaked out about her shoes. That felt amazing. 

Matt always cracks jokes as the
shutter is about to click, making
us all laugh and getting natural
smiles. Also, Matt's gift to me
of a tripod is totally earning
its keep this year.

Elise calls them our
poinsettia dresses.

Since we wouldn't be seeing anyone and our church has put in place lots of covid precautions, we splurged and actually risked crowds to attend church in-person. The most surprising thing was how empty the church was for Christmas Eve, but we know lots of people were participating online. Naomi was excited to hold a candle by herself for the first time. She concentrated so hard that I think her candle was actually probably safe than most of the candles in there.

On the way to and from, we drove past several drive-up or drive-through services that looked pretty fun, and didn't get caught in the traffic of the gigantic church near us because it was holding services entirely online. We enjoyed seeing the variety of responses, and the creativity and care churches showed for the variety of people they serve.

Matt traditionally recites
Twas the Night Before
Christmas to the girls every
Christmas Eve. They check
him to make sure he gets it
right.

Years past: Seeing family. Usually we see, at the very least, Grandpa and the whole Odegaard-Stoutenborough clan, for significant amounts of time. We also see friends and family on our way to or back from Minnesota, including staying with friends for New Year's Eve. This year: Wah-waaaahhhh. (That noise that everyone makes when someone loses out big-time.) Whenever I ask the girls what their favorite thing is about Christmas, they say that it's seeing people. Except sometimes Naomi says presents, because she's 7. Fortunately, having been prepped for about 9 months that things don't always work out, they rolled with the disappointment that Covid wreaked after an appropriate amount of emotion. 

And we were grateful to see people when and where we could, with a fun Zoom meeting with the Odegaard-Stoutenborough branch of the family on Christmas morning (which included some adorable one-liners from the cousins!), and seeing Grandpa and Marianne from a distance and outside Christmas day. 

Zoom only made our Secret 
Santa more mysterious...

We also got to try out a Secret Santa with the Hanks side of the family for the first time, and opened the gifts via Zoom. The best part was possibly when Naomi gave Matt a worm farm, or possibly when Matt gave Naomi an automatic flopping fish to use with the cats. Although Kalina would say the best part was the convoluted clue she was given as to the identity of her secret Santa--and it'd be hard to disagree.

And we did finally get to see Grandpa and Marianne and spend a nice afternoon of hot chocolate, hot chocolate cookies, snow, and presents. Not a bad wrap-up to our Christmas break! (Pictures not included (yet), I think because I'm out of space in my Google account--yikes.)

Years past: New Years. For the past few years, we've spent the evening with friends, either actually staying up until midnight (last year) or setting the clock ahead a couple hours and celebrating at a more manageable hour. This year: The girls insisted on midnight, even though, or possibly because, we wouldn't be seeing friends. I'm pretty easily convinced to kick back for a long evening of snacks, movies and board games, and my kids don't get (super) cranky from lack of sleep, so they won me over. Not so Matt, but he made it for a while!

Having not had to cook any New Years meals for as long as I can remember, and totally not in the mood for fancy meats or anything requiring effort, I decided that cheese fondue could make a fantastic debut in our house that evening. I ran to Wal-Mart for cheese and party supplies (which they conveniently provided in one of those party-in-a-box kits). Yes, our evening was somewhat reliant on Wal-Mart cheese, but in all fairness, the one 5 minutes away is the nicest I've ever been in. People in $400,000 houses not far from us routinely grocery shop there. So I could trust it, too.

We decided after I returned that the ultimate dipper would be hot pretzels but alas, I'd neglected to pick any up from the frozen section of the store! What would we do?!? Elise and her new cookbook to the rescue! She'd seen a recipe for them she'd been wanting to try anyway, and as we had nearly 3 hours until dinner, it just made sense!

Elise and her
magical baking
book!

We cooked it all up, and pretty soon, we were wrangling cheese strings up to the chandelier (not pictured, also due to Google space restrictions), and chowing down on Elise's amazing pretzels (which I think were a bigger hit even than the fondue). When we all hit the "wall of cheese," as Matt dubbed it, we attempted to calculate how many ounces we'd each eaten. Although we would've guessed a good half-pound, we'd actually probably barely consumed that much even as a group. So we're good, right?

Even the cats opened a
present! (ignore the
random finger) The
girls had wrapped it with
treats scattered in the
paper.

The rest of the evening was spent blowing New Year's horns. Less so, finishing music practice that had been neglected earlier while I caught up with Aunt Nancy before her outdated phone presumably expired, playing games, saying goodnight to Matt, and then watching the Moscow ballet. And that's honestly about all it took. In the 15 minutes before midnight, everyone scrambled around writing in diaries and gathering stuffies for bed. We watched the ball drop, enjoyed some sparkling grape juice while Pentatonix sang Auld Lang Syne, blew our horns some more (in the basement, because at least one of us was trying not to wake Matt), and popped some confetti poppers. 

Then we spent the next 20 minutes brushing teeth and being forced to wind down under threat of getting sent to sleep on the floor in another room. Because Mommy was ready to be done Mommying, lovely evening though it had been.

The next day, everyone except Matt slept until close to 8:00, and we only endured one bout of irrational grumpiness brought on by fatigue, and it was relatively easily soothed. 

Although we're hopeful that in 2021 we'll be able to see more people and inch closer to "normal," we can't say 2020 has been such a bad one for our little family. We built lots of character, put our creative resourcefulness to good use, learned a lot about loving your neighbor, and had tons of fun along the way. We know that's not the story for everyone, but God has been good to our family and we can't complain (nearly as much as other can, anyway). It's been a pretty pretty good year. 

Nevertheless, on top of our list of New Year's resolutions is to see people more, and/or see more people, in 2021! When it gets warm, that is....

Orchestra at last

Kalina after her concert.
She was delighted by
the knowledge that 
everyone was going to
completely clash in their
Christmas outfits and
bright orange masks!

Ever since Kalina has been old enough to understand that music is different than other sounds we hear, she's reacted to it. First, but a super-smooth dance move I didn't see anywhere else. Then, by singing and humming, in tune. With great rhythm, no less. 

Although she's not one to just pick up and start playing of her own volition, with a couple nudges, and the occasional strong persuasion, she flourishes. Kalina began piano at nearly 5 and picked up on it quickly. She stopped wanting to practice a few weeks in, but, after the 3 or so years we've required of all our kiddos, she didn't push (too hard) to stop.

In her low moments we always reminded her that learning piano would help her with other instruments as well as develop her brain.

Then I heard about a highly reviewed homeschool orchestra program that I just knew Kalina would love. Right? She agreed that it might be a good idea to try, and when it finally gcame time for Kalina to bring home a rental viola, sure enough, she was able to dig right in. 

I'd taught her a few violin skills a while back, which she actually remembered. We also attended a class offered by the music store about the care and keeping of a violin. She's shown the utmost diligence in adhering to the guidelines--sometimes annoyingly so (putting the entire thing completely away just to make a quick trip to the bathroom mid-practice-session).

Kalina quickly learned a new clef, thanks to her masterful transposition skills, and gradually began to make the instrument sound tolerable, while I attempted to provide just the right amount of instruction to keep her going, but not so much that I overwhelmed or irritated her. Sometimes I succeeded. I promised her that although our schedule conflicted with homeschool orchestra at the time, she'd be able to sign up for it the next year (so, fall of 2020).

But with the good ear Kalina has for music, she knew her playing wasn't up to standards. Which made her want to try harder, right? Nope. She put on a brave face for a month or two, but then she was kinda ready to be done. And who can blame her, honestly? "I feel like I'm getting good at piano, but viola...?" She wasn't wrong--we all know something like learning an instrument is a long haul.

After the usual pep talk ("I know this is hard, but I really think you'll think it's worth it when you play in orchestra next year, and if not, you can quit, plus you're really sounding better all the time"), she'd begrudgingly pick up her instrument again.

Repeat every few weeks.

We inched along in the music book the music store had prescribed, with Kalina hesitant to forge ahead, and me walking the tightrope between patience and non-threatening nudges toward progress.

We did have a few highs: she found a few gems in the beginner book, including a round she could play endlessly with me on piano (unfortunately for her, I couldn't). She started to think of herself as a viola player.

But keeping the practice routine going was a chore for both of us. Finally, to save our sanity, I started giving Kalina a week off a month. She only reluctantly picked up her instrument at the end of that week, but at least found the arrangement somewhat fair and so didn't argue (much).

By early summer, Kalina was nearing the end of her music book, as well as her rope. I encouraged her to skip to the end, since the final pieces were more interesting and therefore more motivational. But also more intimidating. Lest I sound pushy, I'll take a moment to remind us all that Kalina was born with perfect pitch, perfect rhythm, and a strong appreciation for classical music. She's no slouch.

Unfortunately, the steam Kalina had been coasting on evaporated in the lazy summer heat. This time I could tell nothing was going to work: no refreshing breaks, or cool pieces, or pep talks. 

And if it hadn't been for the fact that orchestra would be starting in just 4 weeks, I think we would've handed in the instrument and pretended it never happened. But at least we would've stayed friends.

As it happened, not only was it finally, finally time to sign Kalina up for orchestra, but she'd need to perform a low-key audition just so the conductor could place her in the correct orchestra for her level. "Can she come tomorrow?" the conductor asked over the phone. Knowing my girl, I bought her an extra day or two to let her get used to the idea.

With her self-respect on the line, she practiced without needing an extra nudge. 

I knew the audition would be low-key, but what I didn't expect was that due to the fact that I try not to overuse air-conditioning, my temperature would be slightly elevated when we entered the store and I would have to wait outside. Fortunately, Kalina's was fine, so Naomi, Elise, and I killed time in the car and the conductor came outside to chat from a distance after they were finished, and let us peek into the large orchestra room while enumerating their covid precautions. 

And as often happens in life, but is by no means assured, Kalina's hard, if occasionally reluctant, work paid off! She was placed in the intermediate orchestra, and given a few tips on holding the bow. 

And my hard work, too, by the way. Because it's been real. And now I get to officially call myself a viola teacher, which is probably enough to make any actual viola teacher cringe.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that I wasn't able to enter the store, we'd have to return at a later time to fit Kalina for the next-size-up viola. 

At home, my temperature was perfectly normal--but the 20-minute round-trip drive meant I wasn't eager to return the same day. Still, I appreciated their caution, especially since we were going to be sending Kalina in for orchestra once a week.

When we arrived the next week to claim a larger viola, I blasted the air conditioning, and we were all admitted into the store. A viola was quickly found, and when Kalina played it her eyes lit up--the larger instrument meant a richer, mellower sound, plus shiny new rosin, and she was hooked, at least temporarily.

We celebrated with frozen yogurt at the nearby place, and the girls giggled at the fact that they weren't allowed up to the counter to pick out toppings ("No Children [and their grubby little hands and uncovered sneezes] At Toppings Station," a sign warned us). They had to call their topping choices out to me from 10 feet away, and then we all ate outside.

Practicing went better as Kalina enjoyed her new instrument and began digging into the first few exercises in the orchestra book she'd be using. The month or so left to wait before orchestra began, however, dragged on. But just as Kalina was again about ready to throw in the towel, I was able to remind her that orchestra was the next week...and then the next day. 

Nervous? Absolutely. But guardedly excited, Kalina responsibly packed up her instrument and music, forgetting nothing and eagerly headed out the door. 

Was I nervous? Thank you for asking! Actually, I felt as though my career as a mom hinged on this event. I'd taken the risk of nudging, urging, pushing, and pulling Kalina into orchestra--not without her acquiescence, but sometimes against her immediate desires (to go read instead). But the question remained: how well do I know my own child?!?

I walked Kalina to the door, and she bravely headed in. While I bravely headed back to the minivan.

The weather was beautiful and I'd left Naomi and Elise home with work-at-home Matt, a few short assignments, and a Magic Schoolbus DVD. The commute back and forth to orchestra class is significant enough that I didn't want to drive back and forth, so I spent my time at the park planning for my writing class and chatting with a new homeschooler (there are a lot of those nowadays).

I would imagine we've all guessed it: Kalina came out of orchestra ecstatic about her opportunity to play with a group. But also intimidated by the amount of music she'd need to learn by next week. We might have to pick up our pace--something deliberate Kalina has not encountered before, as she usually prefers to take her time and learn something 100% (and remember it pretty much forever) than rush through--and her piano teachers have always appreciated and accommodated that preference. 

This proved to be a stretching experience. But Kalina seemed to show up (mostly) prepared for each class, plus her skills improved greatly. Being a "caring" [read: nosy] mom, I asked her each time I picked her up if she was keeping up okay. In subtle ways, of course. It sounds as though although the cello section wasn't quite pulling it's weight all the time, Kalina probably was. Or she's old enough to do a great cover-up job when telling her mom about it.

Plus, she took it seriously enough that she was uncomfortable with the idea of going in unprepared. So although Kalina still doesn't relish practicing, the weekly class is enough to keep her going. I got to hear play-by-plays of the progress they were all making on the way home.

Naomi, Elise and I settled into a Thursday-morning routine of dropping Kalina off at orchestra, and then heading to the nearby park for nature study, drawing, science, poetry, literature, writing, PE, a little math--or whatever fit into the morning. Most of the time, the weather cooperated well enough, and either way, the van was warm. They LOVED this (except when we studied bugs--that was not Naomi's favorite) and although it took a little extra creativity and preparation on my part, I usually did, too. 

In this way, Thursday mornings were good for all of us--Kalina would come out of orchestra just glowing, and Elise and Naomi enjoyed a different type of learning, plus some sister bonding.

Kalina's on the right, hidden
by a music stand, and in direct
sunlight. But she's there!!!

We were so excited for Kalina's concert for two reasons: the first was that we'd actually get to see her play. The second was because two of us would get to attend in person, with careful covid precautions. Elise and I were the lucky two: Matt and Naomi would watch from home. Additionally, lots of family were able to watch from their own homes, which we think is just an awesome silver lining of this pandemic.

The playing was impressive, and it's clear the conductor was proud of the kids' work. Kalina played well and came out on a cloud of air: "I feel like I could play in orchestra for the rest of my life!" She's already counting the days until the next class, in mid-January. And practicing!

While we wait, we're enjoying playing Christmas music together (with me on piano) and Kalina's working on some new techniques. She's sounding great, too. I'm just so grateful she's found an activity she truly loves, and that the rest of us are enjoying as well!

Thankful for Thanksgiving!

Although Thanksgiving was different this covid year, we could at least recognize the holiday--and for that we're truly thankful. And to be honest, our outdoor Thanksgiving was seriously amazing!

Of course, Thanksgiving is really all about the attitude. Fortunately, our "trying-to-be-positive-no-matter-what-even-if-just-for-the-kids" mindset and our actual circumstances collided in pleasant ways, so that our regular dose of gratitude was only amplified by the uncertainty of it all.

[Note: kids really do have a way of bringing out the best in all of us, if only because if we so much as nudge the complaining train, it caravans into the next continent and no one has a good time for hours afterward.]

The girls did this without my
knowing. Pretty amazing!

Thanksgiving preparations started back in October, with a million little conversations initiated by, "What do you think we should do for Thanksgiving?" I may have spent as much time mulling over plans and possibilities as I did actually celebrating, but I'm accepting this as just part of the holiday this year. And I'm grateful that we were at least faced with real options to mull over. 

Ten days out, we began checking the long-term forecast daily, and this is when we realized that our best option--spending the day outdoors but doing most of our usual stuff--might actually happen. Usually, the forecast reverses itself as the day approaches, but this time it didn't.

I went ahead and purchased a 20-pound bird. (Partly hopeful thinking, and partly because I got a killer deal.)

A big part of our plans this year included a two-week mini-lockdown for everyone planning to attend, so we made our excuses for a few activities, found lots of good reasons for Matt to work from home, and began the process of getting our groceries via pickup, something we hadn't done since spring.

Of these, the shopping was the hardest task. Websites don't usually let you specify, "please choose pears that are mostly ripe, and definitely not rock-hard," or, "please don't tip the fresh pizza on its end." Bummer. And from what I hear, they're letting just anyone teach, nurse, and grocery shop nowadays, so our grocery cart occasionally needed a little in-person editing. But fortunately only a little.

And of course, we did our usual crafts, decorating, story-reading, and all the rest, so we barely missed going out in public. I'm pretty sure several of us would prefer to do all of our holidays this way. And life.

We prepared the girls that things would be a bit different, and they happily rolled with all the arrangements except the ones that included not seeing people they really wanted to see. "Is anyone coming?" they'd wonder, sometimes through a disappointed puppy lip and other times an exasperated eye roll. We made no promises, other than that there would be pie.

But we were able to assure them that Grandpa, Marianne, and Aunt Nancy were doing their very best, and that we were glad everyone else would be safe at home.

We counted the days, each one becoming more hopeful that this might actually happen. We even planned arrival times. That was big.

Cooking Day arrived, and the girls joyfully helped make a double batch of the cranberry sauce they love, as well as a couple desserts. Elise insisted that we were doing cooking class for school, while I was pretty sure we all had the day off. Naomi, the sweetheart, actually asked if we were going to do school on Thanksgiving. The part of me that didn't want to seize the opportunity ("Don't worry, only a little school and then you'll have the rest of the day off!") felt a bit ashamed that she'd even have to ask. At least we're instilling a work ethic.

And pretty soon we were doing all kinds of strange things like setting up the tent for Aunt Nancy, sewing Christmas face masks, collecting firewood and deciding which portion of the yard we'd eat our meal in. Text messages flew. We passed around a thermometer, and when everyone's temperature came out relatively normal (or a bit chilly, in Kalina's case), the countdown began. Aunt Nancy was on her way, and only harrowing holiday traffic and an evening stood between us and our holiday plans. She would arrive after midnight, unless she decided to stop somewhere.

We all felt like we were waiting for Santa--and we might as well have been, looking at the joy on everyone's faces.

I woke up all the time that night, each time wondering if there were a way I could peek out the window to see if her car was in the driveway without waking the cats. There wasn't. 

On Thanksgiving morning, the girls were dressed and out the door lightning fast after I mentioned that, "Aunt Nancy is going to want a fire in a few minutes." And just like that, Thanksgiving was here!

With all of the laughing, catching up, and general silliness. There was less snitcheting of food, and no showing everyone the various pets and all corners of the house (I was good with that). 

Since we were eating outside and downstairs from the kitchen, Kalina made a menu so people could check the boxes for their preferences. This was so fun I would almost do it in a non-Covid year.

Other than eating Thanksgiving dinner, our day consisted of several walks and lots of fire tending, plus masking up for our limited food prep (but at least we had Christmas masks!). And lots of traditions, like:

Takeaway Bingo! With Uncle Tom and Clarissa participating from afar, it was still a great chance to say hello (including to Uncle David, Aunt Debbie, and Kurt and Joy & family) and to keep some of the fun of the day. 

While we were hampered a bit being outside--balancing lots of things on our knees and trying to point a laptop--we muddled through and it seems as though everyone actually ended up with items they wanted. We had forgotten to bring scissors outside, but managed thanks to a potentially 1000+-year-old arrowhead I'd had on hand to be evaluated by Grandpa. Appreciate the help, native Kansan! Your tool has withstood the test of time--something my scissors might not do.

Pie came along with dark, and we noticed that in the encroaching darkness and chill, the party dwindled. Still, there was plenty of time for just chatting around the fire until the last holdouts (Nancy and I) literally did burn every last bit of firewood we could safely stick in the pit. 

The next day we enjoyed more firewood, a raucous game of burrito-throwing (don't worry, the burritos were fake and up to the challenge), and launching rockets into trees (and occasionally not into trees) before pulling out the leftovers.

Short and sweet, but still my favorite holiday. 

Crafty Naomi

Naomi whipped up
a pumpkin headband.
Pretty sure everyone
7 and under is going
to want one of these!

It's another typical day. An open glue bottle, a tape dispenser and a child-sized pair of purple scissors stand like islands in a lake of papers and drawings. Colored scraps scatter across the floor like leaves in early fall, and the occasional misplaced popsicle stick or pipe cleaner decorates a chair. Naomi is hard at work, creating Pinterest-worthy craft projects and not picking up after herself at all. 

It all takes me back to the moment Naomi discovered her hands. Most babies take weeks to learn that they own a pair of hands, but Naomi found hers on Day 3. She seemed to smile at the same time, which I would attribute to gas, but she sure seemed happy and there's photo evidence to prove it. (See this post: https://odegaardbaby.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-first-week-home.html)

Little Naomi doing her
thing.

I do think there are some things that hold true about a child from the very beginning, and this was one of Naomi's.

Because it didn't take long, relatively, for the baby to begin putting her hands to good use. Sometime in her second year of life, I believe, she perfected her pencil grip (I've seen 8-year-olds with much worse--none of mine, of course). Shortly after, she discovered tape, and we kept Amazon busy mailing us 8-packs to refill our dispenser for about the next 2-3 years. Everything needed tape, and lots of it--why use a little, when a lot is more fun? Besides, when Mommy is busy schooling the big sisters, tape seems like an awesome idea. Around this time she also decided scissors were a good idea, and paint, and soon she was off to the races creating.

But it hasn't been all rainbows and unicorns. Naomi's perfectionistic tendencies often get in the way of perfectly good art. In her dramatic 3s and 4s, upon creating a work she didn't entirely approve of, she'd:
1. Scream, cry, tantrum
2. Rip/crumple offending artwork
3. Shove it under the couch/into the trash as far as she could.

4. Ramp up and/or repeat if I tried to smooth things over.
Now that I look back, it was adorable. In the moment, especially if I had already been mentally planning a display for the artwork, which of course was always good enough for Mommy, not so much.

She still occasionally struggles with perfectionism, but fortunately her skills seem to align fairly well with her expectations most of the time. Unfortunately, the mini-meltdowns that ensue aren't much less explosive than they were a couple years ago, just less frequent. On the plus side, less-than-perfect artwork sometimes ends up in the recycle bin, albeit torn and crumpled. Or she allows me to "set it aside for a bit," and once, notably, hours later even took my suggestion for how to fix a drawing that was too close to the top of the paper for a unicorn horn to fit on the puppy. ("Why don't you just cut out a horn from some other paper and glue it on?") I'll say it again to emphasize the sheer novelty of the moment: she took my suggestion.

This girl couldn't
wait to dive in to
the bag of cotton
balls I brought home
for her!

Whenever I have free time, Naomi asks for a craft project to do. But not just any craft project: "A 3-D craft, Mommy." At which point, I'm expected to just whip out an idea for a charming little critter or object she can make out of the supplies we have on hand. 

Fortunately, she's super resourceful in coming up with ideas of her own accord, making sweet little creations that look like they came from a book. A while back Naomi made paper kites every day. Before that, she made animals out of paper cups and toilet paper tubes.  Nowadays it's pom-pom critters, rubber stamp stories, and stringed musical instruments (that Elise tuned to actually play a song!).

She's often inspired by the materials in front of her. Beyond Scotch tape, her first love, she's been excited by: paper plates, paper cups, popsicle sticks, pom-poms, pipe cleaners, googly eyes, toilet paper tubes, shoeboxes, popsicle sticks, cotton balls, string/cord/yarn, and any drawing materials. 

Naomi crafts on all occasions, but virtually always on the onset of a holiday or new season. She's tuned into the months of the year so she can break out new art inspirations. "Is it fall yet? How many more days?" For fall this year, so far, she's made a leaf pile, complete with a pipe cleaner/popsicle stick rake, a mini garland of leaves for her Calico Critters house, a squirrel in a tree, a couple pumpkins, pom-pom apples and pumpkins, decorations for the house, and many pictures, among other crafts. Most of these have been entirely her own design, but she's also happy to recycle old crafts, such as the cotton-ball igloo she remembered from 2 years ago and remade a few weeks ago. Along with a pom-pom seal to live in it and a cotton-ball iceberg. 

This creates the natural problem of what to do with:

1. The messes, on top of messes, on top of messes. 

2. The actual crafts.

Fortunately, Naomi is pretty decent at cleaning up after herself, when compelled. Naomi: "But Mom, didn't I already clean up this room today?" Me: "But you got everything out again." Naomi: *sigh* "I guess you're right." Nevertheless, even adults become stymied when looking at the table after she's finished a project (or 5). Matt has long since stopped trying to figure it out (I'm pretty sure it'd all end up in the trashcan if I pushed it), and I often have to step in just so the poor girl isn't overcome by her prolific crafting. Like, actually buried by it. 

As far as the actual crafts, Naomi used to count them all by name. "Mommy, remember that little puppy puffy I made a long time ago, and it was blue and pink?" Me: "Um.... kinda?" Naomi: "Where is it?" 😳

The best of Naomi's spring
crafts. Can you count the
bunnies?

So I'd keep them in a box out of the way for a loooong time, just to make sure we were really done playing with them. Because if you spend the time to make a family of puffball animals with coordinating googly eyes, you actually do want to get them out from time to time. The downside is that a reasonably sized box fills up in about a week. During particularly busy times, when I can't sort through the precious projects, a certain closet in the basement has come in reallly handy.

And after that, there's always the camera (see photo). By this time, Naomi really has forgotten, but that doesn't mean I have.... A photo makes parting with the sweetness easier, plus, of course, there's always room to save a few small/flat things.

Naomi has said she wants to consider being an art teacher when she grows up, and I could see that. For now, I'm just delighted to let her decorate the house, Naomi-style.