The things we happen upon

As a parent you think you have made yourself clear. Given your children at least semi-concise instructions. Instilled some sort of common sense obedient wisdom in their little selves.  One happenstance, stumble upon a scene, and you are proven entirely wrong. Entirely. This is the climax of your parenting, #nailedit moment. #ornot. 

Johnathan and I both experienced these today. Solidarity parenting, at least we can claim that. Saturday morning and I slept in, my arrival was late to greet my guys. They hadn't eaten yet. So I decided I would prepare a healthful breakfast. Yogurt parfaits, I sliced peaches, washed blueberries, spooned Dannon Light & Fit yogurt, and sprinkled Special K Granola. Oh yeah, except my boys wanted everything separate. So I spooned the fresh fruit in a bowl for each of them, with a side cup of yogurt, and hold the granola. 

After prepping their breakfast, my 10 week old was ready for hers, so I went into the living/reading room to feed her. This is the scene I happened upon once I finished. 

Apparently the fresh cut fruit was not sweet enough on its own. We needed to bring the sugar canister used for baking to the table and shovel spoonfuls onto our peaches and blueberries. Nice sugar "bowl".  Nice, "I don't like blueberries with sugar." Nice, I'm pretty sure they reverted to spooning sugar directly into their mouths. Healthful. 

The other instance which amused me, included my husband asking my 3 1/2 year old to turn off the sprinkler water. A couple hours later this is what he came outside to find. Water still "on", but the sprinkler was covered and not spraying. How can you not love this? #nailedit #ornot 

Summertime and the living's easy

Tonight is the last night of summer vacay 2014. Tomorrow we return to alarms, school, schedules, and all of this & that. It is enough to make a #mommaintheburbs take inventory. I had some stuff I wanted to accomplish this summer. I was probably ambitious, a little too much so. Especially as we started off this summer with a newborn addition to our family. Ambitions, as in my "patio school." A thirty to forty minute period of time when we would retreat to the screened in patio and...learn. Learn what you ask? Geography...grandpa covered that lesson. I followed up a couple times with our Melissa and Doug world map write-a-mat. Numbers...we made it through a fourth of a workbook and involved the 3 old, barely. Arts and the sciences. When I finally realized that academic retention wasn't the focus, and a more field work philosophy was our best bet, we started making considerable headway in our education. 

Summer swim team took up most of our mornings. Weekly and bi-weekly afternoon trips to the Children's Museum, Space and Rocket Center, parks, and neighborhood pool were some of the other highlights. 

I recall an afternoon of errands followed by 31 flavors (Baskin Robbins.) A park excursion followed by Sonic Happy Hour. An oil change followed by toy browsing at Walmart. A drop in to The Little Gym open house during a downpour. The zoo, Costco, Toys-R-Us, bowling, birthday parties, farmers markets, library, day camps, biking, and croquet. The seemingly simple, but when the addition of an infant is factored, these events seem momentous. Perhaps even, ambitious!?! Or not, there are refugee families making their way out of war torn countries as I type.

In contrast, we topped off the summer with a trip to the beach. Alligator farm, dolphin cruise, seafood scarf, and National Naval Aviation Museum. We returned back home only four days prior to the beginning of the new school year. I prepped by having the supplies and clothing already purchased. Today we lunched at Panda Express as per our 7 year old-2nd grade bound boy decided, and went on a hunt for a Salad Shooter. My circa 2000 model didn't make it in our last move, and our garden is yielding zucchini's so I had promised my boys homemade zucchini bread. Apparently Salad Shooters are a hard-to-come-by-commodity nowadays. We struck out at both Walmart and Target, in between getting our school bound boy a haircut. Oh yeah, we also grew a garden this summer. Ambitious? Perhaps even, momentous? Not when compared to the families eking out survival in Gaza, the Middle East, South America, Africa, inner and rural cities in the United States and other such under-privileged, or havoc wreaked communities. Yet the contrast doesn't make our time less significant, it just makes my perspective a bit more positive. Summertime, and the living's easy. Indeed. 

Hi-jacking the Hell on: from that "bad-dark-place" to "light & truth"

A friend of mine recently summed up her current reality as a "bad-dark-place". It is a terrible destination. I've been there. There are many routes. Sometimes you jump on the crazy train, and don't bail. Sometimes others put you in the boxcar. Sometimes you present your pricey ticket backed by cheap illusions, "all aboard", and have a lovely time, until you get kicked off and deposited in some train depot called desolation.

However you get there, by your own accord or with the help of others, it is a "bad-dark-place". It is palpable. By the time you get there, no amount of rationalizations or delusions can dispel the truth of where you stand. 

So what keeps you going? You can't just let yourself deconstruct. So what do you do? Hijack it the hell out?  There are multiple routes out of the desolate abandon. But this is where it gets tricky. Are you as the 90's GnR album so adequately expressed, "using your illusions"? Or are you treading out on truth? 

This is where you should anticipate some indecision. I don't know about you, but my mind, body, heart, & spirit seem to battle it out for the acquisition, attainability, and ultimate acceptance of a conferred upon truth. Something of a modern day drawn & quartering, rendered by all, a violation of the common good. Until they, finally, all white-flag, in amity. It is a sort of a pulled-in-all-directions, crossroads compromise. 

None of my components of self actually desire to meet this dark demise. The ultimate destruction. They won't always agree, but they, eventually, find a way to look to the light. Light & truth.

For me, light sometimes proceeds truth. The physical light somehow creates a ubiquitous aperture to truth. The way in which I can best describe this core, is through the scripture verse found in John 14:6, which reads, 
" Jesus saith unto him, I am the way the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me."  

I do not say this tritely. In conjunction with the Frank Lloyd Wright quote: 
"The truth is more important than the facts"

I can say this for a fact. Jesus Christ holds true to his promises.
 "Ask , and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you."- Matthew 7:7

And in my experience? That opening referred to has been a portal to light, knowledge, wisdom, answers, hope, light, and peace. Mind, body, heart, & spirit conjoin in a co-op and jump off the "crazy train" heading on the "road to no-where". Although, don't be fooled, the truth-train isn't going to be parked and waiting for your immediate arrival. It often requires a trek through the dark to the light at the end of the tunnel. But, your efforts will be rewarded and you will, eventually, get to the opening. "Seek and ye shall find", truth can sometimes proceed light.

" But he that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest, that they are wrought in God." - John 3:21 

"All Aboard!" Light & truth. Truth & light. This, that, & the other. Whichever it be, you need to hijack the hell on before you find yourself "Goin' off the rails on the crazy train. Hahaha" -Ozzy Osbourne

Homemade Sin

"At the table of hospitality in the South, kindness is the centerpiece filled with bright roses, rich greenery, and fresh babies breath. The essence of our breed of womanhood is to go out of our way to be kind to others either in word or deed." -Rhonda Rich

True dat Rhonda, except lets stop you right there. I'd like to counter that we replace the babies-breath-rose-bouquet (CrInGe), with something a bit more simple, and a tad less cliche. Wild flowers, daisies, sunflowers, or eclectic branches are friendly and cheap, lets go with those. Preach on sister...

 "Pretty is as pretty does," our mamas admonish us from the nursery up, reminding us often that beauty lies in how we treat others and not in the creaminess of our complexions or loveliness of our faces. My momma preached "pretty is as pretty does" as often and as stridently as she touted John 3:16." -Rhonda Rich

 16 ¶For ^aGod so ^bloved the ^cworld, that he ^dgave his ^eonly begotten ^fSon, that whosoever ^gbelieveth in him should not perish, but have ^heverlasting ⁱlife.

 17 For God ^asent not his Son into the world to ^bcondemn the world; but that the world through him might be ^csaved.

 18 ¶He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that ^abelieveth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the ^bname of the only begotten ^cSon of God.

 19 And this is the condemnation, that ^alight is come into the world, and men loved ^bdarkness rather than light, because their ^cdeeds were evil. -John 3:16-19

 "Of course, I welcomed knowing that I could be pretty in actions, since I was so plain in looks. Maybe I wasn't "as ugly as homemade sin," a favorite saying of my people and one I never understood, but my chubbiness, freckles, and overbite would never have put me on anyone's list of beauties. 

"Why do you suppose that so-and-so didn't do such-and-such ?" my sister, Louise, will say from time-to-time, talking about someone who has not responded to kindnesses with similar kindnesses. 

"Because not everyone thinks the way we do," I'll reply. "Especially like you think."

-What Southern Women Know About Faith, Rhonda Rich, p. 159 

This line made me simultaneously wince, blush, chuckle, and nod in absolute agreement. We all could use a regular dose of those words:

"Because not everyone thinks the way we do. Especially like you think."

Yet, even if no-one else thinks the way I do on this, I'm still going to take a shot at defining "homemade sin" to myself, to you, to y'all. Preach on sister. 

Homemade Sin: those actions which you likely have either a "love/hate" relationship with, or an intense desire for, and/or inclination towards, which when acted upon, brings you into a position of enmity with yourself, and with God. Homemade Sin is either a product or by-product of pride. Often with the acute inability, or reluctance to bend, kneel, and humble to the changes that He/She/We has in store for you. Changes which essentially include sacrificing your "homemade sin." Homemade Sin can often be a type of an indulgence, or a lack of control over emotional responses. It turns the most ugly when it is an action which places us in enmity with others and ourselves. Essentially our souls are our home. And if we craft and cultivate, and ultimately indulge in an act which places us at war with others, and with an element of our very self, such as our heart, mind, spirit, or body, then aren't we essentially sinning against our home? Against our self? Homemade sin is a form of self-deception. Some people will never feel at war for their self. For their soul. If you haven't? You've lived in a different existence than I. For me, the decisive rejection of and repentance from "homemade sin" is deep-dark-dirty soul work. Still, there is sacred ground in treading it. Especially, if it means putting your homemade sin on the pyre. And if I haven't mentioned already? I'm no pyro.
-as defined by, Janelle Jensen Fritz

Art-N-About

On our first day of summer vacay we took a field trip to an art museum. It wasn't until we arrived for our personal tour by my docent friend at The Kimball Art Museum that I realized it was maybe just a tad ambitious to take a two year old on a guided tour of the permanent collection gallery. On the drive there my six year old also made it clear that this was not his number one field trip venue as he said, "Looking at paintings is not my favorite, it is your favorite, Mom." I couldn't really argue with that, but I also couldn't turn down a personalized free tour directed to young children. I must say I felt quite a bit better as I witnessed her having to pry her own 6 year old off her legs after the first tour and cram him into our friends mini-van so that she could begin our tour. This wasn't my 6 year old and 2 year olds first time in an art museum. That being said we've had mixed experiences. Ranging from an embarrassing display at The Modern where we were essentially kicked out, to a fun filled afternoon during the Bellini exhibit at The Kimball during their Family Festival. Parents, as you know,  it can go either way. Art museums are not the only place that the pendulum swings on behavioral bliss to tantrum turmoil with a toddler in tow. So sometimes we take the plunge and hope for the best. 

We landed on the best side of things this time around. Even as we started with a wardrobe compromise that resulted in an eclectic pairing that would have been less noteworthy had I just allowed Z his initial selection. For some reason I thought perhaps on a cultural outing we could for-go the basketball shorts for one afternoon. So Z then decided that he should get to chose to wear his cowboy hat. Far be it from me to squelch his artistic expression. Besides, it proved prop worthy during his theatrics at the statue out back the Kimball. That is until he began pontificating the art. His sized up assessment was, "Mom, this statue is a woman." 
"Oh, how do you know?" I don't know why I prompted, I knew perfectly well why, I guess I just wanted to know how his critical thinking was coming along!?
"Because it has breasts." Right you are son. His critical thinking is coming along fine. And...now why don't we head inside for the tour. During which, I was pleasantly surprised that my six year old stayed intent with the group and chose a Caravaggio as his favorite piece. We Fritz's love our rebels. 

The Cardsharps. Caravaggio. 1595. The Kimball Art Museum, Permanent Collection.

My two year old made it through the gallery without any of his screeching sounds that we are attempting to remove from his "I'm displeased" repertoire. I don't know when he transitioned from a normal cry to this high pitch ear hell, but I'm praying eradication is possible. He even sat serenely on the ground and doodled on a paper while I listened to a fascinating history of the French painter Elisabeth Louise Vigee Le Brun, the only female artist on exhibit in the permanent collection at The Kimball.

Self-portrait. Elisabeth Louise Vigee Le Brun. 1781

After we exited the gallery we went over to the gift shop to browse and were pleasantly surprised with the hard to find off-line and year-waiting-period at the library "Elephant & Piggie" books by Mo Willems. A pre-school educator friend of mine has children that hoard these books in her classroom. The pictures are silly, and the stories simple enough for my Kindergartner graduate to read by himself. He read through a couple and I let him choose one to bring home. He chose "Happy Pig Day!"

   

Not only did we think the book was fun but the idea of a pig having his own special day resonated as just last Fall, my then five year old declared one morning in October,  "We already had Mothers Day and Fathers Day. Today should be Kids Day!" And so it began. While he was at school I painted a banner (very quickly, please don't judge my talent by this.) And put out Oreo's with sprinkles over-top. Ta-da, Kids Day! 

Our final stop on our art circuit is a must with children. The large sculpture outside The Modern in Fort Worth. It is genius and if I had the funds? I would commission one for a playground in every major city. You enter the center of the sculpture and it creates an echo chamber. My kids happily stomp, run, shout, jump, dance, and laugh in pure joy. 
FYI: If you do choose to play the video of them dancing, then I might suggest turning the sound way down or off. You will miss their dubstep beat, but you will also dodge the amplified version of the two year old screech.

Something about the interior of the statue even transforms adults into a trance of child-like wonder. Instead of turning pretentious crusty looks on these exploring little souls they usually join in clapping, stomping, and jumping. It is a sculpture that is an instant smile maker. As are "friend fries" from In-N-Out to end our Art-N-About field trip.