Are You Married to Santa Claus?

Now that is a good question, my friend.
And one I considered before answering.
Not because I am under any illusions of being married to Santa Claus, but I was trying to figure out what prompted this little patron to ask me such a thing.  I don't look like a Mrs. Santa Claus.

So I thought a moment.  I got nothing.

Random just swooped in again and dealt his best.  Caught off guard, all I could do was laugh and admit that I don't have any ties to the man in the red suit.

You know I like to collect these little exchanges that bring a smile to my day (and hopefully yours when you imagine them)

 I liked the one where the boy came in and asked if we had any books about an obscure Explorer.  You know, a LaSalle, or Cortez, or Cabot.  As we were walking to the section, completely deadpan he says, "It's for a report."  I am not a sarcastic person with kids (and certainly not with one that I don't know) but a little mischievous voice inside laughed a little and said, no kidding. I never would have guessed.  Instead, we just got the book and I was rewarded with his sincere gratitude.

Last one, and then I'll stop.

One little girl asked me if we had any books from the 19's.  At first I thought we were having a Dewey Decimal moment, (if a little off in the numbering).  But she clarified, "You know, really, really OLD books from 1990 or something."
 
Ahh, yes.  The ancient tomes written in the distant 19's.  I think I can round something up.

If only because Charlotte's Web deserves a few more readers.

My Brilliant Baby

I don't really think Landon is brilliant.  At least, not in the sense that he is remarkably smart.

I have no idea how smart he is.

Just watching him develop from a little bundle of noisy need to a little person capable of occasionally reciprocating has been such a fascinating journey, every milestone seems genius.

Landon IS brilliant in the sense that he is often the brightest spot of my day.  The person who leaves me smiling...on the inside, long after my face has changed expression.

Needless to say, I'm pretty smitten.

Tonight, I thought I heard him singing after he was put to bed.  Singing?  Of course I had to check this out.  Jungle Book's "Bear Necessities" was playing on his goodnight cd.  Wheedle as I may, apparently the solo was a private affair and he wouldn't continue with me looking on....

even when I leaned into his crib and used his little foot as a microphone and sang my favorite parts with all the wonderful horns and "yeah mans!"

My reward: that belly laugh I wish was my ringtone.

My punishment for bugging him: "Foot!  Foot!" said so beseechingly every time I tried to let go of his foot "microphone" and leave his room.

Nobody else thinks I'm this funny, or wants to be with me to the last possible moment before sleep.

So shine on little brilliant baby; even in the dark you light up my life.

How a Gas Station Bathroom Inspired me to Blog

Oh, so many scattered thoughts--none of them make a coherent "POST".

Bathroom breaks on a long road trip: aren't these a dreaded bane?  You know it will be a mix of grunge, irritated gas station attendant, and the scramble to figure out if one is required to go IN and ask for a key or go around back and use a poorly labeled door, or go in and use a poorly labeled door....or what.

But we were on the road, and our destination was too far off to wait, so we stopped at a franchise gas station.

The bathroom was just NOT what I expected.  It took me a moment to realize it, so different was it from any gas station bathroom I'd ever been in.

Someone had painted all the walls with a floral mural.  Nothing professional, just a lot of swirls and and flourishes and a penchant for purple.  A sweeping signature.  Flowers everywhere, and even more color--an unexpected smile to an ordinary moment.

I am grateful for that maverick bathroom artist, though.  In a strange way,  she inspired me to keep trying with this blog.  I had gotten discouraged, wondering if my life was consistently worth blogging about...

But blogging isn't professional publishing.  I don't have a contract to write something that sells or I ought not try.

Maybe some other day that is a mix of grunge, irritation and scrambling, this post will be a reminder to bloom where we're planted, and make our own beauty.  Even if, like bathroom girl, we are more eclectic and exuberant than talented.

Avoiding Volcanoes and Making Me Smile

On the children's desk at the library I get all kinds of questions.  It's like a box of chocolates...and sometimes it is the earnest, deadpan seriousness of our youngest guests that make for the most interesting conversations.


Very small patron: I'm looking for a movie like Dinosaur King.  Do you have anything else in that series?

I look it up on my computer to discover that "Dinosaur King Volcanic Panic" was the only one in our collection from that series.

Me: We have other dinosaur movies you might be interested in, though.  Land Before Time, Ice Age, that kind of thing.  Should I check to see if any of those are available?

Very small patron: Land Before Time.....hmmmm.  I'm just not sure if I'm ready for that yet.  Does it have an active volcano in it?

Have you ever tried not to laugh and know that eye contact with anyone will crumble your resolve?  That's what happened when this tiny little girl said this completely seriously to me. I glanced at her mom and we both had to look away because we were going to lose it.  The randomness of it just struck us as pretty funny.

Me: I'm not sure how active the volcanoes are.  Your other dinosaur movie had a volcano.  Is that what makes you know that you don't want any more movies with volcanoes?


Very small patron: Well...just not SUPER active.  I don't think I want to see a VERY active volcano.


Me: Okay.  Got it.  I bet we can find just the thing.


And so we did.

7 Across

I was working the online reference service for the first time today.  Ready to tackle the really tough questions.  I had gone to training on the software.  I had been reading my training manual on how to provide good reference service online.  I was sequestered in our quiet room and I was ready.

The second question seemed totally cryptic and I thought, Ahh...this is what I have been reading about.  I need to get more information to find out if this is for a school project, or personal research, or what.  I was ready to follow all protocol and make sure I understood, what exactly, the person wanted to know.

"Can you tell me a little more about what kind of information about x you are looking for?" I typed.

Not really. I'm working on a crossword puzzle and that's all the clue says.

Reference librarian?  Not so much.  More like crossword puzzle consultant.

Okay...it's a start.  Maybe I can work my way up.

Two Lines

Just two lines on a home pregnancy test, but they mean everything.
Yes, you're pregnant.
Yes, Landon may get a sibling.
Yes, the adventure begins again.
Yes, yes, yes.

Until it doesn't mean any of those things.
I told Bill I was pregnant and we sat in awe at the wonder that a new life was forming in my body.

And then I got a nagging feeling that the two lines on the test didn't look exactly how I had remembered from before.  I don't know how long it took us to use Google images to check our results against hundreds of  pictures delivered in .25 seconds.  I do know it took quite a bit longer for it to sink in that I was, in fact, not pregnant.

Unfortunately for us, we have used two different kinds of pregnancy tests.  Two lines meant pregnant on one, THREE lines would have meant pregnant on this one. (In a decluttering kick I had long since thrown out the box and instructions for my last little test)

I felt like I had just gotten off a very unsatisfying roller coaster ride: the nervous anticipation, followed by the ecstatic bliss, and then..nothing. Like the ride ended mid "wheee!" and we felt ridiculous for even being so happy.

The day hung heavy around us and we didn't feel like saying much or doing much.  We realized more keenly how much we want another baby. We felt a flare up of fear that maybe our baby-making days are done.  We felt a flare up of guilt that maybe we had never been grateful enough for how easily Landon had been conceived.  We felt a flare up of irrational thoughts that are probably too silly to mention here.  Irrational things just never make sense out of context.

But they were just flare-ups.  It's not like we really believed any of it.  Mostly, we were disappointed.

In the end, I had to remember that we had prayed about trying to have another baby.  We had put the fear aside (the fear that has only ever become a part of it since my miscarriage) and said we were putting the outcome in God's hands.  All of it: boy or girl, single or multiples, now or later.

I sat there realizing that even after our concerted, and supposedly well-timed efforts, the outcome is quite certainly: later.

Or maybe: Never.

I had to remind myself, we put the outcome in God's hands.  If that is more than lip service, then I have to be grateful for what he gives, and what he withholds. I can't write the script and then ask him to come in and produce my show.

THIS is my family.  Right now.  Bill, me and Landon.  I don't want to be sitting on the edge of contentment, waiting for it to be something else, something more.  I don't want to miss one moment to cherish and appreciate the people God has already given me while I'm waiting to see if we get any more.

Maybe we will.  Maybe we won't.  It's not an outcome I can control.

You can bet I'll know what kind of pregnancy test I'm using before I ask myself that question again, though!

Trains, bus and stroller: rollin' downtown

During Bill's Spring Break, we wanted to have another family adventure.  Outings with Landon always make us so happy, because he is discovering things anew, and that makes us look with new eyes, too.

This time, we took the light rail train to downtown Denver.  Bill won some free tickets for filling out a survey.  Landon was so excited to be getting on a train.  He wanted to name everything he saw from the window.




On the train



Lunch at Mad Greens: the BEST restaurant for fresh, delicious salads!

We browsed the Denver Art Museum gift shop.  (You can go in that part for free)



Coming back around with 22-month-old Landon



7 months pregnant with Landon



We rode the 16th Street free shuttle.  I bought Denver postcards for my postcrossing hobby.  We just mingled with the crowds of people who were all going somewhere, and doing something. 



Then home again, home again, jiggety jig...with a little boy who was asleep before I even got him to his crib.  We're all a little worn-out from our big city adventure, but I can't wait to hear what his take will be on it all when he gets up from his nap!   

Happiness on the Cheap and Free

We thought about the zoo.  It was a gorgeous day and animals would be memorable and fun.  But when we considered the $26 admission fee we knew there must be something else we could do that would still be a family adventure.  As it turns out, we got both: the animals and memorable fun, at The Littleton Historic Museum--for free.

At this functional 1890's farm we saw cows, horses, turkey and sheep.  Including new Spring lambs!

After touring only part of the farm with promises to ourselves to come back (because my favorite part I could repeat any number of times was watching Landon take it all in), we headed to the grocery store.

More animal fun!

For just one penny I could watch my little guy experience surprise, and then delight.
We went all out and bought three rides.

A day we enjoyed.  A day I hope we'll remember.  So far, Landon's sharpest memories were expressed over dinner to our neighbor when he said, "Tow--poopy.  Poopy tow," multiple times for emphasis. (I don't think I  need to detail what he got an up-close and personal view of at the farm.)

My sharpest memories?  Little snapshots of my family enjoying an outing--with a few cents and a lot of wonder.

How Well Do You Know Roy?

Roy G. Biv
Presumably, that reminds you of the colors in the rainbow.  If it doesn't, well--bonus for you: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.  That little name may help you remember them sometime.

But without googling it, would you be able to say if the red starts on the inside of a rainbow arc or on the outside?

As we approach St. Patrick's day, one starts giving more thought to rainbows.  When this question popped into my head, I couldn't decide what the answer was.

I was rescued by this beautiful array of images.

What are the little things that have snagged you up?
You probably have the visual memory for rainbows, but maybe you can't remember if an avocado is a fruit or veggie.  (Ok, I can't decide that, either)
Maybe you have forgotten if a kilometer is shorter or longer than a mile. 
Maybe you know that this symbol ~ has a name, but the name presently escapes you.

How did we ever satisfy our curiosity, win disagreements with our dearests, calculate, translate, convert or cite before Google?

Were we more or less curious when the answers were not .23 seconds away from our inquiry?

I'm kind of wondering if I googled that question if anyone has been writing on that topic.....

Around the World With a 5x7

The happy anticipation of a little piece of the world finding its way back to my mailbox--

This is what I am feeling.

This is where I gained it: Postcrossing's Homepage

Postcrossing is an online service that allows you to put your name in the hat, and then it will randomly choose someone, from somewhere on the globe, who would like a postcard sent their way.  A real, live paper postcard.  After they get your card, you become eligible to receive a card.

I couldn't resist.  You might know how much I love randomness  and the unexpected, and what could be more random and unexpected than getting a postcard from a stranger in Belize on a Tuesday??  And maybe you know how I am always so delighted when I get international visitors to this blog. So of course I'd love to get mail from people around the world, too.

I sat down and wrote four postcards.  You can have five going at any time, but I want to purchase some truly worthy ones tomorrow.  I mean, my little card could be the bright spot in someone's day...might as well try to make it worth their visit to the mailbox.

I think I hear the theme song for "It's a Small World" playing in my head right now....
Will the world feel smaller when I can share post cards with people thousands of miles away?
Or maybe this will be remarkably horizon-expanding.

Either way, I'm in.
With the climbing price of gas, I think I'll pay for my vacations with a postage stamp.

Three Scenarios

Last night as I got into bed Bill said seriously, "Ok, I've come up with three scenarios."
"Three scenarios for what?"
"Three scenarios in which you could get your sanity back."

I started to laugh.  Not a courtesy laugh, but a genuine, oh-my-it-has-been-too-long laugh.

My sanity? Just how crazy does he think I am?

As I lay there enjoying the smile the laugh had faded into, something rustled above my head.  Apparently I had gotten into bed with my sunglasses still on my head.

"I guess most people don't go to bed with sunglasses," I say good-naturedly.
"Yeah, most people don't keep wearing them well after dark, either," he replies.

Maybe I'm a little crazier than I thought.
Surely I'm not the only one who uses sunglasses as a hair accessory? 

The ironic thing is, the sunglasses weren't even what prompted this conversation!

As it stands, Bill continues to devise optimistic plans for me and my missing sanity.

Little Monkey/Little Fish

Little Monkey.  We've said it affectionately about Landon for most of his mobile life.  I guess it doesn't hurt that I like most representations of monkeys, and didn't mind transferring those fond feelings to Landon.  (Not "like" as in I collect them fiendishly and have a monkey-themed kitchen--just "like" as in I might buy a notepad with monkeys on it before I'd buy one with penguins)

Tonight, my Little Monkey started earning a new nickname: Little Fish.

In the bath he discovered that he can float on his back.  Have you SEEN anything cuter than a sweet baby face framed in bubbles with the look of pure satisfaction at having discovered a new ability?

Of course I wanted Bill to see it.  We clapped.  And praised.  And all three of us shared huge grins.  Bill went back to cleaning the kitchen. (sweet man)  Maybe more endearing than his first discovery, was Landon wanting Daddy to come back and keep watching him try to master it.

He stuck his soapy head out of the bath and shouted his loudest, "Daddy!"  When Bill didn't come back, he wanted me to know he was hoping Daddy knew what he was working on. 
"Daddy, bubbles.  Daddy wah-er."  He would show me his float again and keep talking about Daddy.

I know he was happy to soak up my praise for floating.  He was absolutely thrilled to show Daddy.  Any which way, I'm just happy we got our "something better" so quickly.

I think I know a Little Fish who might get swim lessons for his birthday. 

Something Better Tomorrow

Terrible Twos.  I've heard that phrase so many times, and applied to a whole range of toddler ages.  I think Landon may be coming into his own more difficult phase at 22 months.  He has so many more things he wants to try, a will he is constantly trying to assert (without the language to clearly specify his plan) and not many skills for coping when things don't go his way.

He's developing more, apparently.  But most of the time, his experiments toward this end feel so unproductive.  I mean, how do you tell a toddler that screaming and thrashing about is not an effective way to get what he wants?  Especially, when sometimes, if this mama walks in the door at 7:00 pm after a long day's work and wants peace for the 30 minutes we'll get to see each other, it is.

Today was one of those long days.  Maybe it was for Landon, too, because he seemed out-of-sorts and particularly cranky.  Watching tears stream down his face as he cried about nothing and everything has the power to reduce Bill and I to two quietly resigned, teeth-grinding adults who must make every effort to not take out our frustation in snappiness with each other.  It's a helpless feeling to watch your son have a meltdown and have exhausted all ideas to improve the situation and none worked.

But bedtime finally came.  And while I would have loved for the lead-up to have been peaceful and snuggly, and following our comforting routine, I was grateful all the same.  Grateful that Landon was so worn out that he would only sob for five minutes before conceding to much-needed sleep.  Grateful that he could go to bed and we could try for something better tomorrow.

Two Wild Beads

Yesterday afternoon I had this conversation:

Kid library patron: I'm looking for a book about Maracca.

Me: Morocco?

Patron: Yes, that's it.  It's for a report I'm doing.  I don't even know where that is.

Me: It's in Northern Africa. Let's see what we can find.

So we found three sources.  Lots of pictures, lots of maps.  One little girl well on her way to knowing a thing or two about Morocco.  Including how to say it.

But that isn't an unusual exchange.  I work at a library after all.

THIS is the strange part:

 When I looked in on this blog the next day, what country showed up as having someone from there visit in the last 24 hours?

Morocco.

~ ~ ~

Last night I posted to my dad's blog: "I miss being able to check in with you."

Within two minutes of hitting "post" the phone rang.
It was my dad.
Calling from the Philippines.  Calling from the following day, noon.
With no idea that I had just read and commented on his latest blog post.

We checked in.  

~ ~ ~

The events of our lives string together to make reasonably predictable patterns.  Or unreasonably unpredictable chaos.  But either way, we kind of get used to seeing what we see.

I love the wild little beads that get thrown in now and then that make me wonder, "How did that get there?"

For Unexpected Detours

I think I have seen this piece a long time ago, but it is such a beautiful way to think about many, many things that don't go the way we hope for or expect. 

"Welcome to Holland"


By Emily Perl Kingsley, 1987. All rights reserved.


I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......


When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.


After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."


"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."


But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.


The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.


So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.


It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.


But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."


And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss. But...if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

Backseat Back-Up Singer

We had an eight-track player when I was a kid.  With only a few 8-track cassette tapes to play in it.  One of them was the soundtrack for The Sound of Music.

So it was with a great deal of nostalgia that I put the cd in my car player on the commute home tonight.  I found myself singing with all the wholesome gusto of my ten-year-old self those classic tunes like Do-Re-Mi and Favorite Things. 

In between songs a little voice piped up from the back, "More sawns?" Landon was with me and I could hear additions of "Do!"  and "Ray!" being sung with such sweet, unsyncopated enthusiasm, I couldn't help but get caught up in a new wave of "Man-I-love-that-little-boy" : a sentence Bill and I pass back and forth like the baton of our shared parenthood.

A few of my favorite things?

It's a long, long list and Landon sparkles throughout. 

Little Monkey



Always worth investigating...














thoroughly!





Goin' Commando

My world shrinks when Landon is sick.  Though I know that he is not in grave danger, it still exacts a higher toll of emotional and physical energy to care for a toddler who suffers.  This week, it started with vomiting, and has carried on to dramatic exits from the other end.  For an extreme diaper rash that wasn't improving, the nurse prescribed a list of things to do to promote his recovery.

Most effective, but also perhaps most difficult to carry out, was the advice to let Landon go diaperless for as much as possible.  Now my little guy is reminding me of an untrained puppy, making little cleaning projects for us at irregular intervals.  The washing machine and dryer have been running for two days straight!

Landon was crabby, and clingy, and always uncertain about what would make him happy, but adamant that by crying and wordlessly pointing to something just beyond, relief would come.  There's only so long I can wander about my house looking for that elusive "something" that would make Landon stop crying in my ear.

In a last ditch effort for some peace, I rolled the tv out of the closet.  It is the second time we've used it this year, so I hoped its novelty would be enough for Landon.  It was.  And for me, too.  We snuggled on the couch and watched nothing in particular while pointing out nouns to each other.

But when I saw an ad for the season premiere of The Amazing Race starting Sunday, I made a plan.  I love how that show allows you to not only see all over the world, but is also an interesting study of people under tremendous pressure.  I've seen a few scattered seasons online.  I had no idea our tv could even get that channel.

We had an early dinner, I got Landon to bed on time, and had the icecream served up in bowls.  I was ready.  Bill rolled the tv out of the closet again.  At five til "showtime" I turned on the tv to begin flipping through channels since I had no idea where it would be.

I ended up seeing the last five minutes of the show.

What a goofball that I didn't even know how to translate "8/7 central" as the start time to mean 7:00.  I picked 8.

My first attempt at network television in years and I catch five minutes of the show.

I wanted to "travel" the world.  Instead, the biggest thought I ended up with was wondering if it would be worth changing Landon's diaper in the middle of the night.

Yes, my world truly does shrink when he is sick.

Oh, well....I have my own 12-hour race to run tomorrow.
No million dollar prize, but I'll have two boys very happy to see me when I check-in tomorrow evening.

And hopefully one of them will be back in diapers.

The 100 Pages Club

That's what these stacks of books on my dresser are likely to become members of.

It's new.  I just created it. I'm the president and the secret password to get in is: Uncompelling.

I mentioned that I'm working on creating a list of the best children/teen books for 2010/11.  It is a huge task (I'm actually on a large committee) and of course I'm behind schedule for how many books I would be proud to recommend.

So--new tactic.  I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner.  I'll give a chapter book 100 pages.  If, by then, I don't care enough about the story or characters to want to keep going, the book gets added to the club.

Unfinished.

Midthought, I will abandon these books to their own company and move on to the next hopeful.

The piles of unread books are tall, and some are precarious.  For my own safety I have got to make more headway on this project.

But still, it feels so strange to be tossing them out before they get to prove that they really redeem themselves with a great ending.   

I'm grateful this is not the approach we take with people.

I Never Know What I'll Hear

Random and I go way back.  I've loved Random for so long, I stopped noticing how random, Random is, sometimes.  But if I find myself unexpectedly smiling, it's often because of Random. 

I was giving a library tour to little cub scouts the other night, and they had the opportunity to earn one of their badges by raising and lowering our flag.

The troop leader earnestly asks, "Why are there 13 stripes on the flag?"
And little guy pipes up, "For the 13 countries that were here before Columbus discovered the rest of them."

What?

 I can't help but smile because Random has popped his funny head up again, this time with a bit of convoluted non-history.  I'd want to talk to that kid all night, seeing as he and Random are probably pretty good friends, too.

Instead, they properly fold the flag.  They unfold the flag.  They raise it on the pole.  They sing a song.  And shivering, they all tumble back into the library.

 One thing I know and love about Random: his unpredictability is one of his best charms.  And he's been charming me my whole life. 

So chances are, I'll be smiling this way again soon.