Butterflies and Birthday Cake

Four is a big deal. And for this big four, all other activities came screeching to a halt so we could celebrate. It helped that soccer games for Tman and Madi didn't conflict. So CJ had us all to herself.

Butterfly sandwiches.

Bug hunt in the back yard.

Not one, but two butterfly cakes.

Much too often, CJ is the one left behind. As the baby of our family, she will be the last to do most everything. But that hasn't stunted her cheerfulness. She's a kick of joy. A blast of fieriness. A challenge, no question. But a girl with a laugh that melts my saddest heart.

Everyday I am grateful I chose to have just one more...because my life is so much better with her in it. Happy Birthday sweet girl!

My Day

Time is running away from me. Days seem to tumble into weeks. And while nothing monumental is happening, I know I'll look back at this time in my life and long for the small, seemingly insignificant moments.

So here are the "insignificant" moments of my day - the small details - the ones I don't want to forget.

My iphone at my bedside table plays a tiny melody at 4:30AM telling me it's time to wake up. The world outside is black and starless. Only the orange hue from infrequent street lamps colors the pavement. But I am not alone. As I jog (in a somewhat zombie-like fashion) the morning call to prayer from mosques throughout the city greets the darkness with haunting melody, like a banshee's mournful cry.

I make breakfast still wearing my running clothes. I flip pancakes while the windows brighten with the rising sun.

CJ tumbles down the stairs. She is a mass of tangled blond hair, sleepy eyes, and blankets which she has dragged from her bed.

The hair is going to be a challenge. And yep, she runs to hide at the first sight of the hair brush. Rapunzel hair (or Perpunzel hair in CJ jargon) has its price.

Preschool is giggles, glue, songs, recess, pink lemonade and zoo phonics. Book time is my favorite preschool moment, when all four little girls cozy up on the couch and I read aloud "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus"...twice.  

After school begins the whirlwind/marathon of snacks, multi-tasking with homework, and getting to and from soccer practices. Tman, Leasie, and Meya are flushed and warm from the non air conditioned bus ride. If all homework gets done, we catch an episode of iCarly together. I love to laugh with my children.

Evening slips into night. We assemble lunches in the kitchen together. I slice carrots while each child makes a sandwich. The kids remind me to avoid using plastic wrap - we're trying very hard to have garbage-less lunches. A small step toward green.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I go to tuck CJ in bed. My eye-liner is smudged. I look old and tired.  

I sing funny "light" song from My Turn on Earth (CJ's current favorite lullaby). Oldest four gather on my bed and after squabbling about who gets to sit where, we settle in for a few pages of Peter Pan (such a lovely, funny book).

Lights out, earplugs in at 9:30.  Only to start over again in 7 short hours.

My Grandma's Gift

"Have seconds," my Grandma would urge. And I always did.

Her table was set with the most delicious food. As a young child, when I would come visit during summer, her table held seasonal favorites like zucchini bread, watermelon, orange jello salad, and blackberry pie. I remember dinners outside on her back patio. The snapdragons in bloom. The corn on the cob piping hot.

But my favorite times with her were during my college years, when I would make the four hour trek from Provo to Idaho Falls, ID to spend a precious weekend with her. She spoiled me, and I loved it. Little peas and potatoes in white sauce, a Hormel ham baked until jerky dry, homemade macaroni and cheese, and if I was lucky (which I often was) chocolate icebox dessert.

I hadn't thought about chocolate icebox dessert in a long time. And I hadn't made it for years. Then a few weeks ago my Uncle Lee mentioned it on facebook, followed by a comment from my cousin Nicole.

I immediately put in an amazon.com order for vanilla wafers (since there are none here at the stores in Jakarta). The vanilla wafers arrived a few days ago.

I opened my recipe book and made the dessert. And I thought of my dear Grandma who always encouraged me to have seconds (and thirds), and had an incredible way of making me feel loved.

Here's her recipe:

1 cup butter
1&1/2 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 box vanilla wafers
1/4 cup water
4 squares of Bakers semi-sweet chocolate (or 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips)
4 eggs, separated

Separate egg yolks from whites. Beat whites until stiff and set aside. In mixing bowl, cream together butter, powdered sugar and vanilla extract. Set aside. In pan, mix together egg yolks, water, semi-sweet chocolate, and granulated sugar. Bring mixture to soft boil, stirring often, and cook until thickened. Remove from heat and add creamed sugar and beaten egg whites.

Spray bottom of 8X8 glass dish. Cover bottom of dish with a single layer of vanilla wafers. Cover the wafers with 1/3 of chocolate mixture. Repeat three times so there are three layers of wafers and chocolate. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours (overnight is even better). Serve with dollop of whipped cream. Chocolate heaven!

Running with a crowd

Near the end of my Saturday run, I rounded a street corner and found myself in a crowd of about one dozen young Indonesian boys. They stopped what they were doing to let me run past.

They called out "Hello Missus!" and one started to run with me. Then one by one they all joined. Soon I was surrounded by the boys running, laughing, darting, sprinting. One boy at my elbow grinned as he ran beside me. "Anda capat," I said. (You are fast!) In response, he pumped his scrawny arms more vigorously. The boys called out to one another, and I was swimming in a sea of smiles.

Their flipflops slapped the pavement. Those that were barefoot had soles as black as the asphalt. Soon they trickled off, stooping to rest with hands on knees. Even the boy at my elbow slowed to a walk. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath.

When I turned around and encouraged, "Detang" (Come on!), he shook his head and said "Capai" (tired). But he flashed a smile as he waved me on.

It was the best few moments of my Saturday run.

A Room of my Own

It was a surreal experience to set up my own classroom. Butterflies in my stomach. Christmas morning excitement. And of course a few moments of nausea-inducing dread. Even though I have taught for five years, it was all at a community college. This meant that I didn't really have my own space. I had a large "bag of tricks" and my laptop that I toted to a new classroom each semester.

But now, my own space. Oh the possibilities.

Desks to arrange...shall I put them together in table-groups? Should I make a U?

Bulletin Boards. Let's just say I have become quite adept using a stapler.

A couple plants...because I love green.

Gigantic pillows for a comfy reading corner.

The first of many quotes hung in a prominent location:

You see things; and you say, “Why?”

But I dream things that never were; and I say, “Why not?”

George Bernard Shaw

And on my door an invitation:

If you are a dreamer,

come in.

If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you're a pretender, come sit by my  fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!

-Shel Silverstein

Each time I walk into my room, I get that thrilling tingle. A room of possibilities. A room for learning. A room for inspiring.

I can't wait for my students to arrive. Because really, it's not just my room. It's our room.

Summer in Indonesia

The kids are screaming upstairs. Well, it's more of squealing. And until anyone comes to me crying, I will assume it is pure sounds of fun. (How's that for good parenting?)

I had a friend ask via email how my summer has been since getting home. I have been so busy recording our trip (and it is taking me much much too long), that the rest of our summer has drifted into oblivion...at least blog-o-sphere oblivion. So let me take a short intermission of trip-blogs to write what we've been doing the past three weeks.

We have been swimming. Since Jakarta is not very conducive or cooperative to outside playing at parks or long walks, we try to go to the pool as often as possible. And oh the imagination games that occur when there are no waterslides or lazy rivers to entertain us. Titanic, mermaids, and Shark-Attack!! are some of their favorites.

We have been celebrating. I woke up absolutely panicked (heart-pounding, gasping for breath) one morning after a vivid dream. The nightmare? In my dream all my children were all grown up. The panicked feeling remained with me for a good part of the morning. I had some serious reflection moments and realized that this nightmare is going to come true...just not for a few more years. And I felt strongly that I needed to make this summer count. Make some memories. Enjoy childhood. Enjoy my children. That sort of thing.

So we've had a camping day where we set up the tent inside and roasted hotdogs and marshmallows over the gas burner.

We had a Christmas day where we listened to Christmas music, ate cinnamon rolls for breakfast, made snowflakes, and had a special ham dinner. Today we are celebrating Pioneer Day, and this Friday we are having a 4th of July re-do day.

We have been playing boardgames and reading chapter books. We are doing fun things and enjoying the non-scheduled, laziness of summer. I guess you could say I've just been trying to live this summer to its fullest. And in my home, that means making the most of the quiet times, surviving the crazy times, and holding on to memory-making as though I were wielding a sword used to fight off the vicious passage of time.

Oh how grateful I am for summer.

Grandma and Poppy

My parents have taken me to many amazing places. I had the priviledge of spending part of my childhood in beautiful Sitka, Alaska. And instead of normal summer vacations, our family had "adventures." Some of these included float plane rides to remote lakes with Forest Service cabins. During my teenage years, they took me to Cape Cod, MA where I fell in love with Boston and East Coast autumns. We continued the tradition of adventures with ski trips to Nestlebrook Inn and winter/summer drives out to P-town and the Coast Guard beach.

Then when I was in college, Mom flew out to meet me in England. We had the craziest, most wonderful time together walking to St. Peter's Cathedral, seeing "Oliver," and taking a train ride up to Scotland. We quite enjoyed flanking a Scottish guard in a kilt. And we were reprimanded by the local police for attempting to hike up a hill that had clearly been blocked off from public use. Oops.

Adventures. Stories. Memories.

So it seemed a special, full-circle kind of moment to have my parents join us in Italy for more family adventures.

Of course, I realize my parents were not just there to see me or Italy. The grandchildren were a large draw! And oh how my kids loved their "Grandma-Poppy-time." Grandma held Amelia's hand on all of our walks (taking breaks only to wipe the sweat off - it was hot!), Tman wore his hat, purchased by Poppy, with extra pride. Leasie loved driving the four-person bike with her grandparents. One of Madi's favorite outings was seeing Michelanglo's statue of Moses with just her Mom and Grandparents. And CJ hugged each of them any chance she got.

And my favorite moments with my parents? It would have to be my morning runs with Dad, our double-date dinner with the Colosseum looming in the background, and watching the sunset for the last time on our roof.

So Mom and Dad, thank you for all the adventures. All the stories. All the love!

Until our next adventure...