Hey Ya! Found It!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGnYw-OuCnI

Elves, Peanuts, and Band Aids

Elves:

We watched part of the movie Elf last night, and I have to say, it was way funnier the second time around than the first. I couldn't stop laughing last night, but when I rented it two years ago and watched it on Thanksgiving Day, I was sorely disappointed. Maybe it had something to do with the post trauma of almost having to visit the ER when Johnny (15 months at the time) landed face-first on a wine glass, shattering it to pieces but somehow coming out of it completed unharmed. We can laugh about it now, but we weren't laughing too much two years ago.

Peanuts:

We switched it from Elf to A Charlie BrownChristmas that I hadn't viewed in years. Despite Grace's mutiny at having to watch the Peanuts Gang (she claimed the Charlie Brown show was "poopy"), I got a total kick out of the kids' dancing scene during the Christmas play rehearsal. If I could find a clip of that, I'd post it here. Because each child is doing a distinct dance that is cute, but, well, totally freakish. I mean, what about the kid in the yellow shirt that has his shoulders all the way up to his ears dancing back and forth, looking kind of like Frankenstein? Freak-dancers. All of them.

Band Aids:

My holiday season is never completely kicked off until I hear "Do They Know It's Christmas" from Band Aid, and Grace and I finally heard it on the way to school this morning. It's the only Christmas song that gives me goose bumps the first time I hear it each season and it remains my favorite holiday song. I guess it just always takes me back to my first school dance--7th grade, 1984--(the year the song was released), and how it came on at the end and we were all dancing around. Whenver the song comes on now, no matter where we are in the car, I make my kids sit there and listen and sing with me until the song is over. This morning I told Grace it was my favorite Christmas song and she said, "It's my favorite, too, Mommy."

Can I Get a Blogroll Please?

Please note that I've finally added a Blogroll to the right. These are blogs from people I know, people I used to know, people I don't know but wish I knew and even possibly from people that I know but wish I didn't know. If you'd like your blog to be added, please send me the link (hint, hint, Otto and Grunt!)

The End of the Innocence

Santa brought me a digital clock radio for Christmas the year I was twelve. I loved it. That's the same year I found out the truth about Santa. The girl neighbor that lived across the street was two years older than I was and her brother was my age. S was like a big sister to me and I looked up to her in more ways than one (she was also tall). A few days after Christmas when some of us were hanging out at our house playing Monopoly and drinking hot chocolate, S told me that she was going to get me a clock radio for Christmas but her mom talked to my mom and my mom told her she'd already gotten me one. Alrighty then. It was official. The truth about Santa was finally revealed to me at the tender age of twelve. I suspected as much, but it still stung.

Johnny's my literal child. I think he'll figure it out first. He's three and he's already asking why Santa doesn't just come in through the front door. When I tell him it's because we lock the doors at night he asks, "Can't we just leave the door unlocked on Christmas Eve?"

My dad called home from his office a long time ago when Kate was five. It was around Christmastime and she answered the phone. I don't even think it was premeditated, and I remember him saying he didn't even change his voice, but he told Kate that it was Rudolph. I can still remember the look in her eye and the sound in her sweet little voice when she said, "Mommy! Rudolph is on the phone!"

S has no idea that she outed Santa. I see her and her family each week at church--maybe it's time for her to know. On the other hand, maybe not.

Best.Christmas.Ever.

Looking back, it had to be Christmas, 1982. Since there were three kids to buy for on an English Professor's salary, we learned early not to expect the expensive gifts our friends all seemed to be getting. Name-brand clothes (Jordache jeans, Izod shirts) we owned were hand-me-downs from our neighbor across the street. Those neighbors had everything and had everything first: Huffy bikes, MTV, Atari, boom boxes, their own TVs in their rooms, skis, curling irons, you name it. We spent a lot of time hanging out at their house.

So Christmas 1982 rolled around and the five of us exchanged gifts right there in our living room in front of our artificial tree because of Daniel's allergies, and maybe in front of a fire, because it was Boone and it often snowed on Christmas Day. I was 10 years old, in the 5th grade, and can't recall a single gift I opened that year. Maybe a diary, maybe a new jigsaw puzzle, maybe a latch-hook rug kit (I loved those things!) After all of the presents were unwrapped and we were all basking in the Christmas-Day-new-stuff glow, my dad casually walked over to our old worn couch, looked behind it and told us all three to come over. And as we did, we gasped at what we saw. Right there in our very own living room was a brand new Atari system! And not just any old Atari system (Atari 2600, like everyone else on our block had), but the hot new Atari 5200 that no one else we knew had! And so it was, the Lightfeet had Atari 5200, with games such as Pole Position, and Centipede, and Breakout (I became the Breakout Queen, and to this day, I'll challenge any one, any day, any time) and for a good two weeks, the neighborhood kids all wanted to hang out at our house.

The Difference Between Girls and Boys

Grace: When I get bigger, I'm gonna be a Mommy, like you, and run a haff maraffon.

Johnny: I just licked ear wax off my finger. Does that mean I have germs in my mouf?

Benefits of having a girl: always finding a hair barrette or scrunchy when you're running late.

Benefits of having a boy: being able to find a spot, pretty much anywhere, for him to pull down his pants and pee.

Thanksgiving Top-5

We drove up to Ohio to visit David's family for Thanksgiving. Here's my Top-5 List from the trip:

#5 Grande Black Coffee at Starbuck's in Beckley, WV on the drive home
#4 Sandy's traditional meal
#3 My "headache" that bought me an entire morning in the hotel room by myself where I could
read what I wanted, and watch whatever I wanted on tv.
#2 The prosthetic noses that David fashioned out of Silly Putty
#1 The noise and the laughter coming from the basement where the kids were in Hog Heaven
playing with their cousins they'd just met.

Full of Thanks

I'm at home today, without a scanner, but if I had a scanner handy, I'd scan in pictures of the turkeys Grace and Johnny each made at school listing what they're thankful for.

If I remember correctly, Johnny listed that he was thankful for water and superheroes. I'm looking at Grace's right now, and here's what she lists:

1. I'm happy when my mom smile(s) and laugh(s) real hard.
2. I'm happy when my daddy plays dollhouse for a long time.
3. I'm happy when when my mom picks me up.
4. I like playing Simon Says with Johnny.

And I'm happy that they're happy and thankful about these things. Gobble Gobble!

November Rain

The title has nothing to do with this post, other than the fact that as I was driving home from the gym I noted that it was November and it was raining (and cold) and they've been playing a lot of Guns 'N Roses on the radio lately.

I just got back from they gym where I took this weight training class for the first time. Have you ever been a member of a co-ed gym where there was an "It" class--be it Spinning, be it Pilates, be it Step Aerobics, whatever--and you wanted to join it but felt self conscious and intimidated because you didn't feel like you were fit enough or didn't fit in enough, but always peeked in from the sidelines and heard the cool music pumping and the instructor's whooping and and wished you could be a part of the glory one day? Every gym I've ever attended, (that's two total) there's been one of those classes and it reminds me of the "cool" table in the junior high cafeteria, and I've never joined the "It" class.

Today I did. It was a small class due to the rain and the holiday, and everyone was nice enough and helped me figure out all the accessories: free weights, bars, big balls, small balls, jumpropes, ladders, ankle straps, etc. I did pretty well keeping up, but it was definitely not easy. At the end of the class, this very fit, athletic guy stood at the doorway, and the exchange that ensued went something like this:

Sherry: Hey, Buddy. Where have you been? I didn't know you were here tonight. When are you going to come take my class?
Guy: What class is it? (and he looks around the room)
Sherry: Hard Bodies. (He looks around again)
Woman in Class: Yeah, Hard Bodies with Sherry...can't you tell?

The guys looks around curiously and his gaze lands right on me and my jiggly bits (aka my stomach)

Me: Don't look at me, this is my first class.

Any Given Sunday

At first blush, yesterday looked like it would be any given Sunday, but at the end of the day, it was pretty darn memorable.

Church: I'm one of the teachers that rotates every third Sunday to "teach" Johnny's 3-year old Sunday School class. Teaching three year-olds basically involves reading a Bible-themed story, doing a craft, and singing with Miss Beth. Yesterday, it involved chaos control as every one of the boys in the class had major separation issues and cried most of the time. Yesterday's lesson involved Joshua and Jericho and a wall, and trumpets and tearing down the wall and all that. As suggested by the 'Class Pak,' I brought in blocks and noisemakers so the kids could build a wall, march around the wall making noise, and then--the best part of all--knock down the wall. Worked like a charm. We're into music in my family and we have lots of instruments around the house. Two guitars, a piano, four penny whistles, a flute, lots of drums, a couple of harmonicas, a zither, lots of maracas, egg shakers, etc. etc. etc. I picked through our music basket and put about 15 noise-making instruments in a bag and threw our cardboard life-sized bricks/blocks in the bag for the lesson.

There's something about seeing toys from your own home in another setting that young children really dig. I've seen it at the cooking class with Johnny when he asks, "Mommy, is that our blenduh? Is that our wooden spoon? Is that our stainless steel bowl?" "Yes, yes, and yes." He just beams, and seeing that makes me beam. Yesterday at church, Johnny and Grace (she joined our class) got a real bang out of sharing their musical instruments and blocks with the other kids in the class. And have you ever met a kid that doesn't like to shake a maraca and knock down a block tower all at the same time? Yesterday's Sunday School class was a big, big hit. The rate of return far exceeded the effort of investment.

To top it off, Paula Spencer said hi and called me by name, and since I'd just finished reading her really good and highly recommended book Momfidence, (I found it!) it felt like a celebrity recognizing me. And then to top it off with a cherry, I got something out of the sermon that was about hope in the face of disappointment and all that.

Raking Leaves: I was going to go running while David raked the leaves with the kids, but seeing just how much fun they were having (the kids, not David), I decided to join them. The ground was damp and cold, but that didn't deter Johnny and Grace from frolicking full on in the leaf piles David raked up. Then Johnny found the mud. Like little piglets, neither could resist getting their hands, (and feet, and arms, and legs, and face, and tummies) deliciously feelthy. They both came running after me with muddy hands and my shrieks, "No! No! Don't touch me," only made them laugh and try even harder. I had on scrubs and sweats and instantly made the mental switch from don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-those-muddy-hands-and-I-MEAN-it! to don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-those-muddy-hands-with-a-twinkle-in-my-eye.

I let them get me. I let them bury me in leaves, head to toe, and wipe their muddy paws all over me. I let them take most of their clothes off and paint themselves silly with mud. We pretended like we were puppies digging through the leaves, just wide-eyed and laughing the whole time. I climbed a tree and acted scared of coming down. If you ever want to know what kind of messages you're giving your children, try switching gears and be the one who's afraid. They will say to you exactly what you've said to them. Grace and Johnny offered me their hands, and their hearts. They said, "It's ok, Mommy. You can do it. Use your courage. I'm proud of you." I got down from the tree and then decided it was time to start making a little fort out of cut bamboo (that we have in abundance in our yard) and the trees that make a perfect triangle in our yard. An hour gone by at least, David was almost finished raking, and it turns out, we needed his help to cut the bamboo even more. Johnny, Grace and I got started on our "A-Stand" fort but decided to call it quits, for now. It was time to clean up so I could put on my fancy clothes and get ready for the Elizabeth Edwards reading. As we padded through our hall to the bathroom, I thought about Paula Spencer and all the chaos and fun she and her family has. Reading her book made me feel ok with our chaotic, carpet stained house--lucky even--because the juice stains, markings on the wall, stuff everywhere, means there are kids around, and kids make me happy, and even though during the trying phases of mothering I often tell myself, "This too shall pass," I also know that that phrase applies to all the fun stuff too and that before I know it, my kids won't be begging to jump in leaves with me anymore.

Elizabeth Edwards: Even though I love getting dirty with kids, I also like putting on new dresses, precisely applied make-up and fixing my hair. Elizabeth Edwards spoke at the Siena Hotel last evening for an Orange County Literacy Council benefit, and the whole experience completely exceeded my expectations. All of the good things you've heard and read about Elizabeth Edwards are true: She's smart, funny, charming, wise, warm, and extrememly down to earth. She told us of a Senators' wives luncheon for Laura Bush that was part of a "work day," but that she showed up in overalls when everyone else had on expensive suits, some with sequined collars. She talked about being at UNC in the 70's and protesting the Vietnam War and feeling like she had to do something and then feeling part of a bigger crowd and how that connection and feeling a part carried with her when she found an on-line grief support group when her teenaged son Wade was killed, and then the universal sisterhood that she feels with women who have or have had breast cancer. She talked about at one point thinking that the most important thing she could pass on to her children was the idea that "anything is possible," but the terrifying reality of those three words. She talked about the unlikely and the likely pockets of support she's found throughout her life--the connections she's made--from her hairdresser, to her mailman, political figures, and how it's important to build bridges before you need them. She answered questions candidly and honestly and didn't tell the audience necessarily what she knew they were hoping to hear. She encouraged us to speak of those we've lost to each other--even if it's been ten years since your roommate's dad died--that not talking about the person who is gone is actually harder than remembering that s/he is not here. She talked about a lot of things and hit on so many levels and was just as gracious with her time as she could be. I was really impressed with her, as the entire audience seemed to be, and when I read what she wrote to me in her book Saving Graces, thanking me for being generous with my gifts, and about blessings and loss, I remembered that earlier today Johnny asked me what a "blessing was."

Today was a blessing.

Ok, Now Simon Says "Don't" Vomit

Guess what Johnny did at the first of what was supposed to be two birthday parties attended today? Yep. Lesson learned: When kids say, "I'm sick," sometimes they mean it.

Random Friday Three

1. I just got carded buying a bottle of Pinot Noir. (Admit it: you've been a fan too, ever since the movie Sideways came out). My question is, do I really look that much younger than my years, or could it have been all the tension, stress, and built-up aging that had just been washed away during my 90-MINUTE MASSAGE! (That I got for 20% off by paying for it during Lucy's Card Week).

2. Ohio State vs. Michigan: The "Game of the Century." My dad reminded me why I should even care. Because we lived in Columbus from 1974-1980 and used to see High Street get boarded up during these match-ups, and we used to go to the games and cheer with my dad endearingly (and spill hot chocolate on bald guys in front of us...but that's another story)

My dad: "O-H!"
We Kids: "I-O!"

This game will be way more exciting than anything Carolina has put out all season, so, "GO BUCKEYES!"

3. Johnny dropping the F-Bomb in the privacy of my car: funny
Johnny dropping the F-Bomb at school: not funny
Johnny's classmates dropping the F-Bomb and saying they picked it up from Johnny (who
picked it up from Daddy): time to start washing some little (and big) mouths out with soap.

Momfidence Is...

I discovered Paula Spencer about a month ago when there was a little flyer in Johnny's Sunday School class announcing that she was doing a book reading at a local indepedent book store to promote her new book, "Momfidence! An Oreo Never Killed Anybody and Other Secrets of Happier Parenting." Paula's not only a Chapel Hill resident, writer, and mother of four, but she goes to my church. I found out that she writes a monthly column for Woman's Day magazine and has written hundreds of freelance parenting articles, the same sort to which I aspire.

I've talked to her twice at church, once when she mistook me for another blonde thirty-something mom with young chidren (that explains the big smile on her face when I walked in the room and sat down beside her to sing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes," only to discover she thought I was someone else).

Then I recently approached her at our church's Halloween Festival to tell her that I was really enjoying reading her book...emphasis on WAS enjoying it...but that it has mysteriously disappeared somewhere into the Cooley Bermuda Triangle, to which she replied, "I understand. Why do you think it took me 10 years to write this book?"

It's a great read, but I'm only halfway finished as I've had to resort to going to Barnes and Noble on my lunchbreaks for a Starbuck's coffee and a couch to catch up on a few chapters since I still can't find my copy at home. I relate to so much of what she writes, like filling the bath water up with bubbles, and letting the kids splash around to clean themselves, no parental scrubbing necessary; or letting them eat candy for breakfast the day after Halloween; and keeping the house just straightened up enough so that one doesn't trip over any UPO (unidentified plastic objects) but not giving a second thought to hospital-cornered-made-up beds, or sending young children to school in adorable preciously smocked outfits.

I relate to and laugh at her stories but at the same time am one of the moms with habits that she eschews, like collecting sea shells on my recent trip to the Outer Banks with high hopes of glue-gunning them to a one-of-a-kind homemade picture frame, or keeping our pantry stocked with organic foods, flaxseed and Kashi's Go Lean breakfast cereal, or, God forbid, letting my child sleep in bed with us.

Paula good-heartedly satrizes "Attachment Parents" who "wear" their babies and do the family bed, and breastfeed through the toddler years while she clearly favors commonsense approaches to making parenting easier if that means storebought birthday cakes and sitting on the benches at the playgrounds while the kids "work things out" on their own. The truth is, I was a sling-wearin, playground-hoverin, grinded my own baby food mom, and we still let Johnny crawl into bed with us in the middle of the night. At the same time, I also Ferberized Grace (it worked!), let my kids drink real root beer once in awhile, and sometimes don't make them brush their teeth every single night. (They're gonna lose the baby teeth anyway, right?)

Paula's blog is snappy, refreshing, and funny, even if I don't agree with everything she says...plus, when I mentioned that I'd like to write for magazines too, she told me that if I ever wanted any help or advice, just to call...

Momfidence is...
Being happy that you're a little bit Carol Brady and a little bit Roseanne Barr
and the wisdom to know when to be whom.

End of October

Nut Jobs

OBX Race: We Did It!

Yesterday David ran the Inaugural OBX Marathon, and I ran the Half. We went with our friends Chris and Leisa, who both also completed the Half-Marathon. We're all appropriately tired, sore, and proud of ourselves.

Chris drove the four of us from the Raleigh area to Kill Devil Hills while our kids stayed home with aunts, uncles and grandmothers. We four told stories, and laughed, talked about politics and our kids, and enjoyed a leisurely drive to the coast. The weather was gorgeous on Saturday, sunny and in the upper 70's. After going to the Race Expo to get our numbers, chips, and look around at all the vendors, we checked in to our hotel and had just enough time to take a quick walk on the beach before attempting to find that pasta dinner we'd heard runners need the night before a race.












Before dinner, we drove out to Kitty Hawk then over the three-mile bridge into Harbinger to visit my friend Trish and her family who moved into their new house from Raleigh just a month ago. The Eldridges were great: beautiful new home, beautiful family, settling in to a slower-paced life in the Outer Banks, all was good. They suggested this great restaurant called Tortuga's.

Very hungry by that point, we set off for Tortuga's or whatever else that came our way that looked good. The first place was too expensive and everywhere else was just too crowded. We never did find Tortuga's, but we pulled in to an Italian restaurant and walked up to see how long the wait was. We stood and stood and stood and couldn't get a single employee to look us in the eye. Yes, we saw that they were busy, but how long until a table might be free? More people came in behind us and then even more. Pretty soon there were at least twenty potential patrons standing in line just to get the word on how long the waiting list was. No. one . would. look. us. in. the. eye. or. give. us. the. time. of. day. After no less than twenty minutes of standing there (I know, we could have walked out earlier), a frazzled waitress said, "Do you have reservations?" "No," we replied. "Well, we're not seating anyone unless they have reservations."

Fine, but couldn't she have told us that twenty minutes earlier?? We drove around some more getting hungrier by the minute and almost settled on crabs from Dirty Dick's, but when all was said and done, we made a "run" for the border and ended up at Taco Bell.

We were in our rooms by 8:00 PM and asleep not long after.

The 5:00 AM alarm came too soon, and looking back, how foolish the four of us were to waste the opportunity of a child-free Sunday morning of sleeping in in favor of getting up pracically in the middle of the night! Especially when we knew the forecast was calling for thunderstorms! Are we totally nuts? We made it to our shuttles, though, everyone dressed for success, including Barbie nipple bandaids for David. We wished David good luck, and were off to the starting line.

Leisa's knees were bothering her, so she didn't pretend to try to run with Chris and me. Chris was committed to a walk/run combintation, and I was committed to running with him. I'm so glad I did, I couldn't have done it without him. This is the guy I met my sophomore year in college, the guy who was a JV cheerleader for awhile. The guy who always had energy and tried to cheer people up during late-night fire drills. The guy who wore his (clean) underwear on his head into the dining hall one morning as a joke and the same guy who talked me into jumping into the Mill Creek Apartment swimming pool in February one year a long time ago. If you needed a coach, someone to keep you on pace and to encourage you the entire way, there's no one better to do that than Christopher Tyler Jones. So, Chris and I stuck together the whole time, thanking people who cheered us on, pumping other runners up, and just basically keeping the mood fun and light the whole way. About mid-way, he said that at our pace, we would finish the half-marathon in about two and a half hours. That wasn't good enough for me. I wanted to average a 10-minute mile even with taking minute-long walking breaks. So, we picked up our running pace at around mile 7. After gagging down a gel pack (hate those things!) I felt strong and great, and like I could "break away" at the end for an even better time. That was our plan. Chris said, "Just stick with me." My heart felt good, my legs felt pretty good, just a few aches and pains on the righ side of my body. Even going up the dreaded hill went fine. Then at about mile 12, he really kicked it, and I kept up with him until the last half mile or so and that's when I told him to go ahead. My breathing felt a little labored and I felt like I might throw up, so I slowed it back down and ran on in over the finish line by myself.

Here are everyone's stats:

David: 4:14:58.25
Chris: 2:19:57.65
Sarah: 2:20:48.15
Leisa: 3:02:29.55

It did start to rain very hard soon after Chris and I finished our race. So, Leisa and David got caught in it. I have to say that the most difficult part of the day was not the running, it was the waiting, cold and wet, for almost two hours, for David to run around the bend and finish. I was so anxious for him to finish (for his sake and ours) that I misidentified him three times! When I did spot him, however, I can't tell you how proud of him I was, and how excited we all were to cheer for him on the last stretch.

I think we all accomplished what we set out to do, and I think our times will be better next time. Yes, I think there's going to be a next time.

A quick report on the homefront: We didn't call Kate too many times, but each time we did, there was an air of all-Hell's-breaking-loose. I think she forgot how demanding and exhausting it is to take care of two very active children, and how there's just no such thing as "running into Weaver Street to get a quick cup of coffee." Nothing's that simple with Grace and Johnny in tow. Apparently, Grace ran off from Kate in the Chik-fil-A line at Southpoint Mall and in the time it took for Kate to blow dry her (very short) hair, Grace had methodically ripped out every single page to Johnny's beloved book "Cars and Trucks and Things That Go," and then laughed about it when Kate reprimanded her. Welcome to our world.

David and I promised to bring the kids back a surprise, so in addition to giving them our race finisher medals, we gave them each a new Whoopie Cushion that we picked up at Walgreen's. Take one guess at which surprise they liked better.


The best thing about returning home (second of course to the hugs we got from the kids) is that Kate washed and neatly folded every piece of our laundry--a task that hasn't been properly done in over five years. The kids and Kate had a good time, I think, and I think she'll agree to come back...in a year.

Shut Up, and Read!

Most of you reading this know that I've been a long-time volunteer with the Orange County Literacy Council. When I returned from my one-year stint as a VISTA Volunteer in rural, northwest Florida, I immeditately connected with the local OCLC and soon became a volunteer in the Family Reading Program, later a trainer on the tutor training team, later a board member, and now, ten years later, I'm the chair of the fund development committee. Ironically, in these past ten years, I haven't actually helped an adult learn to read, but I did in college and in Florida. One day I'd like to get back to that, the heart of literacy volunteer work, in my opinion.

Adult Literacy. Adult Illiteracy. Breaking the Cycle of Illiteracy. I think most Americans, conservative and liberal alike, would agree that being able to read and write well is very important. I think we'd all agree that Reading Is Fundamental. But are we really tuned in into how important this issue is and how linked this issue is to a whole host of other issues in our community like poverty, crime, school success, the economy, racism, etc? Personally, I think the word "literacy" is one of those words that when you hear it you think it's important but you may gloss over all the implications this word packs into the big scheme of being a full citizen in Twenty-First-Century-America. I'd like to stop using the word "literacy" to reach people to become involved, but shift to the connection people have with "reading" and try to light the fire from that angle.

We have to reach the adults that for whatever reasons have made it into adulthood without being able to read and write well. What I like about the OCLC, is that we exist to help adults mean their own personal literacy goals, however large or small those goals are. If they want to pass their driver's test, tutors can help them meet that goal. If they want to pass the GED, (high-school equivalency exam), that's another level of tutoring. Many people express interest in reading the Bible (let's not start with the King James version, please!) or a story to their children.

Parents: can you imagine if you did not the have the skills to read a story to your kids? Do you know how bad you would wcieg uriems eodkgm psodlgmd tkwosisim bjdigmdh oskdmg bjeure, dinogn? Tragic! Breaking the cycle of illiteracy begins with reading to your children. Every day. I've done quite a bit of work with comprehensive Family Literacy programs where the model integrates four components: adult education, early childhood education, parent and child together time, and parenting time. Studies show that approaching "literacy" as a familial unit is more effective than an isolated approach. In other words, the whole, (holistic) is greater than the sum of its parts.

When I started volunteering for the council, I was part of the Family Reading Workshop Team and we were a traveling dog and pony show that went around Chapel Hill and Hillsborough putting on workshops to people that lived with or worked with young children, stressing the importance of reading to them. Often. We didn't teach people how to teach kids to read, we just shared the gospel about how important it is to read to your children every day. I was committed to the work back then, but now, as a parent of young children, the fire has been lit in a whole new way. I know I'm preaching to the choir, because I know you parents read to your children, (and I know you're steps above thousands in the Chapel Hill community by virtue of just being able to read this blog), but--take literacy enthusiast, Mem Fox, the author of many children's books but also the author of a fantastic book that I read recently called "Reading Magic." Ms. Fox states,

" If parents understood the huge educational benefits and intense happiness brought about by reading aloud to their children, and if every parent-and every adult caring for a child-read aloud a minimum of three stories a day to the children in their lives, we could probably wipe out illiteracy within one generation." Right on, Mem!

And for those of us who can read and enjoy reading, do we really need to be convinced of how wonderful it is to read with young children, especially your own? It's staggering how many ways new parents, particularly moms, can feel guilty about what they are or aren't doing with their children. I'm telling you, never once have I questioned whether I was doing the right thing when I was reading to Grace and Johnny. Reading to them is my panacea of parenting, a perfect activity that has immesurable rewards for all of us. Of course I want them to become good readers and writers and students and all that. But the sheer joy of cozying up with them in a chair or in bed to read Shel Silverstein poems, or Richard Scarry's "Cars, Trucks, and Things That Go", or "Miss Nelson Has a Field Day", or any of the hundreds of kids' books we have, it's priceless, just priceless.

Reading to children is the most important twenty minutes of a parent's day, in my mind. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

So I'll get off my soap box now but leave you with some of our favorite kids' books in our house...and a personal request from me to you to read to your kids every day, and support your local literacy program!!

1. Goodnight Moon
2. Have You Seen My Cat?
3. Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!
4. Drummer Hoff
5. Big Red Barn
6. Barnyard Dance
7. The Bear Snores On
8. The Pigeon Has Feelings Too
9. Chrysanthemum
10. Harry and the Lady Next Door
11. Sheep in Jeep
12. Giggle Giggle Quack
13. Where the Wild Things Are
14. Hop on Pop
15. You are My I Love You
16. What Mommies Do Best
17. What Daddies Do Best
18. The Mitten
19. No Nap!
20. The Snowy Day

Kickin' Ath

I worked like a dog last week getting ready for a big event that the Lucy Daniels Foundation sponsored this past Saturday, our inaugural lectures on "Potential Space," the first one titled "Art as Healing & Healing as Art." Each year for this lecture, we're going to pair a creator of things and a psychoanalyst. This year the creator was Thomas Sayre, local and world-renowned sculptor, and the anaylst was Salman Akhtar, MD, also a poet and of Indian descent.

Each day last week I worked until @ 7:00 PM, drove home to tuck my kids in bed, then continued working until about 10:00 or 11:00 PM when I fell into bed, to begin the routine in the morning. This year, I'm the director and the assistant so I get the pleasure of hosting the event, hob-nobbing with the big dogs, welcoming the audience of 120 + people, handing out honoraria checks, etc. you know-director-level responsibilities. But as the assistant, I was responsible for putting together all of the packets, printing the name tags, and keeping up with over a hundred details involved in making the event happen. Anyone who has done any type of event planning (personal weddings included) knows that the devil is in the details.

So the week went pretty well...David and the kids even had flowers delivered at work last Thursday. The card read, "Sarah, Kick ath...yeth! We love you! -David, Grace, & Johnny," and each time I read it I think of the young woman who had to write out the card. It makes me smile. The flowers themselves make me smile too.

So the week was chugging along and by all accounts I was kickin some major ath. Then I woke up Saturday morning with a headache from here to Montana. One that made me sick to my stomach. I started the most important day of my career thus far vomitting in the bathroom thinking it was going to be impossible to pull it together to finish the 75 things I needed to get done by 12:00, not to mention have the presence of mind/body/spirit to stand up and do the welcome and introductions. David told me that he'd help in any way possible. He told me that I could overcome the headache/upset stomach if I just relaxed and really set my mind to it. I was a determined little bird and had no other choice but to buck up and deliver. I left the house at 7:30 AM (not to return until 11:00 PM), and drove to work praying, meditating and listening to
number 10 on the Garden State sound track. Over and over and over and over. It has a very calming effect on me.

It was the most remarkable turn-around that I've ever been a part of. I pulled it together and by 9:00 AM I was running up and down stairs handling all the last-minute details like a champ. So what happened? Do I believe in God? Yes. But I also believe in myself a great deal and can't help but wonder that when we pray to God to help us get through this or that, could we really be chanelling profound energy from within our own deepest, highest spiritual states? Did I just suggest that I was God? I'll leave you with that to chew on for a bit.

If Saturday had been any other day, I would have stayed in bed and felt miserable all day. Instead, I rightly earned another feather in my cap in the spirit of "whatever it takes." By all accounts, I kicked some major ath.

Elizabeth Edwards Supports the Orange County Literacy Council

Join us to meet Elizabeth Edwards, new author (of the fall release, acclaimed memoir Saving Graces) and dedicated reader (two of her favorite books are Anne Lamott's Bird By Bird and Eudora Welty's The Optimist's Daughter). She will speak at the Orange County Literacy Council's Fall Fundraiser, held for the first time at the elegant Siena Hotel. The program will benefit the Orange County Literacy Council and the work they do to break the cycle of illiteracy throughout the county.

November 19, 2006
5pm until 7pm
The Siena Hotel
1505 East Franklin Street, Chapel Hill

Tickets have just gone on sale for this limited seating event. Advisory Board Member Frances Gravely will introduce Mrs. Edwards, who will share stories from her life as the wife of John Edwards, as a cancer survivor and as a new resident of the Chapel Hill area. Mrs. Edwards' book focuses on the grace she encountered when friends and family and strangers supported her after her husband and John Kerry lost the 2004 presidential election. Soon after, she learned she had breast cancer. It is this combination of involvement of friends and strangers alike – a saving grace – that makes the OCLC work.
Tickets are $65. Call 919.933.2151 for reservations.
Seats are limited.

People Falling Down

I'm working on some substantial posts, but for now, I'll leave you with this.

Have I mentioned that we like to laugh in my family? We especially like to laugh at "people falling down"aka "America's Funniest Home Videos." For years my dad has been taping theses episodes and then showing them in Boone at family gatherings. Grace and Johnny have caught on that watching "people falling down" with Mommy, Daddy, Granddabs, Uncle Daniel and Aunt Kate ranks right up there with dancing around naked with pull-ups on their heads as some of their favorite things in the world to do, and I have to agree with them. When have you belly laughed that hard and that consistently as when watching "people falling down?" It makes even the most respectable well-composed adult laugh in that way that catches one off guard--a laugh in which one loses control, and even their breath, momentarily--a laugh that is irrepressible but comes from very deep within (and is, of course, the very best kind) and even gets funnier when you see the person beside you losing it. The best way to watch "people falling down" is with a rewind button. You just can't seem to get enough of the guy slipping on the ice and the look on his face. If you haven't watched it in awhile, grab your kids, and settle in on Sunday nights, 7:00 PM on ABC.

Our Pez Collection

Fact is Funnier Than Fiction

I don't see myself ever writing stories or blog posts about made-up people, because the people I encounter every day provide all the material I need.

Since when did Trick-or-Treating start before it got dark? I didn't get home from work yesterday until almost 6:30 PM...with all of the candy to pass out, and supper, picked up from Harris Teeter. David and the kids were nowhere to be found. Lots of people were already walking around our neighborhood. I lit a candle and put our jack-o-lantern out by our mailbox, turned our porch light on and emptied the candy into a bowl, changed clothes, and then wondered why everything felt so rushed. A few minutes later, David, Batman and Belle came walking back up and they had already been out for close to an hour. What? David said that when he, Grace, and Johnny drove up at 5:30 PM, there were already kids walking up our driveway. He rushed inside and the only candy he could find was the loot that the kids got at the parties we went to this weekend. So he started to give away their private stash! Also, he told me, he panicked, and gave some little girl some crayons. That weren't even new. From Grace's and Johnny's private stash. On the radio the other day, I heard a DJ talking about the guy at the end of the street that runs out of candy and starts handing out pennies. They warned everyone to buy enough candy so they don't become their street's weird-guy-that-gives-out-pennies-for-Halloween. David became that guy! By the time that I got home, Trick-or-Treating was almost over! But we did get some customers and my kids helped me pass out candy. Grace was giving out huge fistfulls, but the kids didn't mind, and I didn't either because I didn't want all the extra candy hanging around our house.

And since we're all into "ET" at our house, we started pretending that ET and Elliott were out in our neighborhood Trick-or-Treating. Grace wanted to be Gertie, Johnny wanted to be Elliot, and they, of course, wanted me to be ET. Please tell me that I in no way resemble something that looks like this.

Today I took Grace and Jonny for their annual physicals. Grace is 44 1/8 inches tall and weighs 38 lbs. Johnny is 42 1/4 inches tall and weighs 44 lbs. He's a rough and tumble little hoss, but he still wants to be held and cries tears when he gets his shots. It was very difficult getting through their check-up without losing my cool. Luckily there was this moment during the eye exam where I laughed out loud and got shot a dirty look by the nurse:

Nurse: Ok, Grace, it's your turn. Stand on that black line, and cover up one of your eyes with your hand. Ok, great. Now look at this chart. Do you see the shapes?

Grace: Yeth.

Nurse: Ok, great. Now what shape am I pointing to?

Grace:

Nurse: Ok, Grace, am I pointing to a circle or a square?

Grace: A rectangle

And speaking of delightful developmentally delayed people...after dropping the kids off at SFFA, I swung by Whole Foods for lunch. The bagger must have thought the salmon, fruit, and pasta I was buying looked really good, because out of the blue she said,

Bagger: What did you have for dinner?

Me: (pause) Oh, you mean for dinner last night?

Bagger: Yes.

Me: Oh, I had quesadillas.

Bagger: Mmm. That sounds good.

Me: (pause) What did you have for dinner last night?

Bagger: Rice. But it wasn't very good. I'm hungry. You have a great day.