The agony and the ecstasy, four year old style

    The wails of agony echoed off the tile clad walls, grating on my nerves. Writhing and sobbing, the world was coming to end fast for my Evelynn. Her pain had rendered her incapable of coherent thought; nothing but her affliction filled her mind and consequently her actions. I begged, pleaded and became irritable. You have not experienced true torture until you have tried to brush a four year old's hair. I don't know who was in greater anguish, me or Evelynn. Nothing could satiate her. Nothing.
    Fine, I was not going to brush her long hair or braid ('twist' as she calls it) her hair any more. This was ridiculous. I couldn't braid it because it needed to be brushed. I couldn't brush it because it had not been braided. And that child has the tenderest scalp I have ever come across, not to mention that she also has the finest hair. She will get at least four tangles before a half hour has past since I brushed it. I decided to cut it off. All of it. I cut five inches off her little head of hair. I was shooting for four inches, but a well timed interruption from Caelan resulted in the extra inch. A younger sister can always cause mischief just in teasing and taking what isn't hers, including the hair brush that Evelynn was holding for me.
    But now the cut has been done. She loves it. No tangles. No promise of tangles in her now short, fine hair. She is very pleased with the outcome. I'm not. She looks too grown up. Where is the precious face of my LITTLE girl? It's now shrowded in a cute, older hair cut. My eyes burn when I look at her. Her long hair was not good for her. The short hair is. Her long hair was not good for me, but neither is the short hair. I feel I've been cheated from this experience. I'm supposed to be happy. Right?

A Favorite Few

In trying to update the look of the blog and create another one (coming soon), I thought I'd share a few of my favorite humorus jabs at being a Mom.

Off the path of talking about my kids...

    As a historian, I love to delve into the lives of people. I'm what you would call a social historian. I want to know about how people were impacted by historical events, the era they influenced, the ideas they had, the emotions. Centuries have past, each generation claiming to throw off tradition and accomplish what no other generation before has dared to dream of.  Goethe said that "Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, its own hopes, its own desires" and "The destiny of any nation at any given time depends on the opinion of its young people, those under twenty-five." Looking out across history, this is true, no matter the time period or the civilization. If you've heard the saying "history repeats itself," that's really not off.
    Quotes from well-known/famous individuals smattered throughout time bring me great delight. There's a comfort, a settled feeling, that what we experience today is not new; that our struggles are the same, our ideals and goals, in essence, the same, never changing, static. No matter the time period, the words of humanity ring true today and some are, in fact, quite entertaining. The great people of the past were human, they were normal-- most of them not elevated to 'pedestal' status until well after their deaths.
    That being said, here are some of the quotes I have found interesting and enjoyable in recent weeks.

"The person who in shaky times also wavers, increases the evil, but the person of firm decision fashions the universe." ~ Johann von Goethe, 1749-1832
"The only thing necessary for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing." ~ Edmund Burke, 1729-1797
"We have the best government money can buy." ~ Mark Twain, 1835-1910
"There are basically two types of people. People who accomplish things and people who claim to have accomplished things. The first group is less crowded." ~ Mark Twain
"To succeed in life you need two things: ignorance and confidence." ~Mark Twain
"No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1804-1864
"Only the mob and the elite can be attracted by the momentum of totalitarianism itself. The masses have to be won by propaganda." ~ Hannah Arendt, 1906-1975
"Revolutionaries do no make revolutions. The revolutionaries are those who know when power is lying in the street and then they can pick it up." ~Hannah Arendt
"I never expected to see the day when girls would get sunburned in the places they now do." ~Will Rogers, 1879-1935
"The most radical revolutionary will become a conservative the day after the revolution." ~Hannah Arendt
"Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture, and, if possible, speak a few sensible words." ~Goethe
"If you start to think of your physical and moral condition, you usually find that you are sick." ~Goethe
"Nothing is more terrible than seeing ignorance in action." ~Goethe
"Lifetimes are made up of a lot of little lifetimes." ~Danny Kaye, 1913-1987
"Trouble and perplexity drive me to prayer and prayer drives away perplexity and trouble." ~Phillip Melanchthon, 1497-1560
"Faith is nothing else than trust in the divine mercy promised in Christ." ~Phillip Melanchthon
"Only under conditions or tyranny it is far easier to act than think." ~Hannah Arendt
"People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election." ~Otto von Bismarck, 1815-1898
"There is a Providence that protects idiots, drunkards, children and the United States of America." ~Otto von Bismarck
"When a man says he approves of something in principle, it means he hasn't the slightest intention of carrying it out in practice." ~Otto von Bismarck
"Speech is civilization itself." ~Thomas Mann, 1875-1955
"I think I've discovered the secret of life - you just hang around until you get used to it." ~Charles M. Schulz, 1922-2000
"Life is a long lesson in humility." ~James M. Barrie, 1860-1937
"The perfect normal person is rare in our civilization." ~Karen Horney, 1885-1952
"A government that robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul." ~George Bernard Shaw, 1856-1950
"Any girl can be glamorous. All you have to do is stand still and look stupid." ~Hedy Lamarr, 1913-2000
"Fashions have done more harm than revolutions." ~Victor Hugo, 1802-1885
"Laws are like sausages, it is better not to see them being made." ~Otto von Bismarck
"I love to go to Washington - if only to be near my money." ~Bob Hope, 1903-2003

And last, but not least:


 "When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear." ~Mark Twain

Hey, he said it... a long time ago. So that makes it okay, right?

The Three R's: Reading, Writing and Refining

    Education for us happens whenever and wherever. It's continual; there is always something to be learned. My girls are extremely inquisitive, and soak up any and most information. Any  'formal education' requiring daily lessons or books, has not really happened. Given that Evelynn is four, we've not had an 'official' school year or set goals for learning. Her persistence in wanting to learn to read and write helped to decide that now is a good time to get started. So our school year started this last Tuesday, our first goals aimed at reading, writing, arithmetic, and since I have an affinity for history, a start with the U.S. presidents and world landmarks.

    Evelynn is in absolute heaven over the alphabets and their sounds. She has impressed me with her knowledge of recognizing the letters, knowing their individual sounds, and even corresponding words for most of the letters. She knows that 'Q' has a partner, the letter 'U'. The title of this post, as you read, mentions refining. The refining would be my education, the ways I teach, the methods I use for patience (oh, my). Evelynn has had a good start, but why, of all the twenty-six letters in the alphabet, can she not recognize or remember the sound for 'A'? We have talked about the alphabet for years now. If she knows Q, X, K, W, and Y, what's the deal with 'A'?

    Writing has had an interesting beginning. She has written letters on her magna doodle for many, many months. So in my everything-has-a-place, perfectionist, stay-in-the-lines world, the writing tablet with the lines for learning to write upper case and lower case levels should have been sheer heaven. I happen to have a sincere love for blank, colleg-ruled paper that I can neatly fill up-- within the lines. Not so with Evelynn. It's "No, Mom... that's not how you write that letter." or "How about I write it like this?"-- the tablet turned, so the lines are vertical. What has she done to the beautiful paper?? "Okay, how about you just keep practicing your letters on your magna doodle." Thankfully, I have chosen to teach her cursive first. She loves swooshes and flourishes.

John Adams

    Caelan is not one to be left out of anything, so she takes part in all but the writing portion. My one room school house (dining room table) is learning the first three U.S. presidents and three world landmarks right now. The girls love it. I have flash cards with a portrait of the presidents and then brief, pertinent information on the back. Right now, we're going for portrait recognition. George Washington, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. One of the landmarks is Mt. Rushmore, where two of these presidents are carved. George Washington is down, no problem. Caelan says 'John' Washington every once in a while, but I'm impressed my two year old can remember and say 'Washington.' Evelynn can never remember John Adams, other than telling me she doesn't like his hairs. Apparently the fashion of the day for hair style is not to her liking. Caelan knows John Adams every time. We've finally hurdled past Thomas Jefferson, too. They get Thomas every time, it's just his last name. Surprisingly, Evelynn at first called him Thomas 'Mendelssohn.' It was a pleasant surprise to find she thought he was also a composer.

    Arithmetic at this point is just number recognition. Both girls can count to twenty, but recognition does try my patience. Maybe because of my own aversion to numbers? I hope not. Good thing their dad has no problems in that area. Reading, Writing and Refining... one week down, a bazillion more to go. Not a bad start.

Juxtaposition; i.e. Camping with Little Girls

    Camping, the point where man and nature come together once again. Man to bask in the glow of a campfire and the out of doors, and nature to be horrified by all things pink and princess. Codorus State Park in Pennsylvania was descended upon by the Brannon family as a weekend getaway. After camp had been set up, there were things that seemed out of place, not as rustic as to be expected. Of the chairs that ringed the campfire, two were a lovely shade of lavendar and graced with Sleeping Beauty, Belle, and Cinderella, their ball gowns billowing out, not from dancing but from a cool forest breeze and an overactive, smoke producing fire. A princess carriage in the form of a pink tricycle, took the girls to once upon a time and far, far away. Of course, to get to the castle in the distance, the one riding the tricycle wore a crown of protection, in distinct Disney Princess pink.
    The tent with its manly Cabela's label affixed proudly to the deep green rip/stop material belied what was inside. Our sleeping beauties slumbered on a pink, princess air mattress, keeping their little bodies from uncomfortable peas (or rocks) underneath. The girls' 'special blankets,' which when left at home become a travesty, are fluffy, one spinkled with pixie dust from Tinkerbell and the other promising that "Dreams Do Come True" in true princess fashion. The youngest Brannon slept in a cherry blossom bedecked and ruffled crib.
    Walt Disney would have been proud to see our campsite and to hear the girls many comparisons of nature to the princess movies. Pocahontas liked trees and ran 'just around the riverbend.' That lightning bug's name was Ray, like from Princess Tiana. Taking a break in the tent was like Snow White at the Seven Dwarves' house. Perhaps Disney's marketers would be a little more proud any way. Although, the girls should probably not be told that we ate one of Bambi's relatives for dinner while out in the 'wild.'

Siblings

Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way. ~Pamela Dugdale

    Since we've all been home, there have been some intense moments of sibling teasing, rivalry-- whatever you want to call it-- just plain not getting along. The instigator is Caelan. The victim is Evelynn more than half the time. Caelan really enjoys rocking Evelynn's little world. It's something we're working very hard to correct, but there are moments when you just want to laugh. It's cute when they're two, but it won't be so cute when they're older. Tonight's incident made it very difficult not to laugh. Okay, maybe I did laugh, but I had to leave the room.
    Both girls were eating dinner while I was folding laundry. Evelynn's typical cry of someone done completely wrong filled the kitchen. Caelan thought it would be fun to ignore the food in her bowl and take Evelynn's. This is a particular favorite of Caelan's; to take/eat something that Evelynn is playing/eating with. Evelynn, to Caelan's delight, was horrified at the injustice. Caelan had some serious wicked giggles, full of mirth. And per the usual, I told Caelan not to take her food or continue to pick on her sister. Caelan just laughed, "Otay." The okay was not in her eyes, even as I saw her reach towards Evelynn's bowl again. The warning words of "you better not or you will be in trouble" followed and Caelan laughed again, "Otay."
    I tried to impart the wisdom of why she shouldn't tease her sister, why it's not nice to take things from other people, especially if the only reason is to make them upset. The child still laughed, "Otay." She is clearly not taking this instruction. So I told her it was not funny. Caelan looked at Evelynn, giggled and said, "Yes, it is funny." The look of daggers did not pierce the child's nerve. I took one step towards her and it was amazing the difference that one step made. "Otay, Mama, it's not funny. I'm sorry Evelynn." Yes, I had to leave the room. One day, maybe-- hopefully-- she'll get it and Evelynn will forgive her for all the wrongs.

"She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child." ~Barbara Alpert

Dear Hearts and Gentle People

In August 2004, I found myself moving from sunny, southern Texas to the 'North,' as if it were a distant, foreign land. Pennsylvania-- north of the Mason Dixon. Everything was new and unique, far different than what I had always known. So far it has been an epic adventure. Many life changes have taken place there. I've had three children-- three "Yankee" children as they have been jokingly named by well-meaning family and friends, but "you can't help where you're born." Our girls might not be G.R.I.T.S. (Girls Raised In The South), but we try our best to expose them to the genteel manners of the South about twice a year.


Those who live in the North are sweet, wonderful people, but it might take a few weeks or even years to find out. The natives are private, quiet, they don't dangle their hearts out in front of them, nor do they stretch out their arms to hug complete strangers, telling them "I know your Mama." If they did, the Northerner being hugged would be wondering how they knew Mama or more importantly how does that information make a hug from this stranger okay? Those in the North have big hearts; it just takes time for them to warm up. It's a slow progression. Everything has a time and place, and more than likely it's not now-- they won't be randomly striking up conversations in the produce section of the store, they won't answer you if you're from the South and you ask them where they got their hair done or about that cute purse. When Northerners speak, you better listen up. It will be blunt, to the point-- grating on the ears of the Southerner and their melodic, soothing ways of speaking. Northerners don't waste words. Well, at least until you've known them for a while-- a long while.


After six years of being away from the South, I've felt very aware of my 'Northerness,' even my husband made mention of that. I lived in Texas for 24 years, so you would think my 'Southerness' would run deep enough to hold back the 'Yankee' tide of manners and culture. This most recent trip down, however, has me wondering. Something is missing, or, rather, that some things have changed. I feel caught somewhere between North and South. I love both places, but when I'm in either place I have to remind myself what is proper social protocol. For example, women in the South love to talk. They can talk about anything and peppered with the right amount of "bless your/her/his/its hearts" and a reference or two to 'Mama' or 'Daddy,' they can just about say anything they want to (for good or ill). This is generally for people who are at least acquainted. It's not near as much fun to tell a stranger that 'so-and-so' ran off with another woman and left his wife with two young children, bless her little heart.


For those less acquainted-- strangers-- it really doesn't take long to know quite a bit about about others. I met (and I use the term loosely because I've never seen her before and still don't know her name) an older lady of very fine Southern ways. In less than thirty seconds, I found out that she was cold, had intended on taking a sweater with her when she left the house but forgot, was too busy for naps, worked at a grocery store as a cashier, that she was too old to be the only register open on a Saturday morning of a holiday weekend and told her boss that she really couldn't be doing all that by herself again. This was where I stalled. I felt I should know what to say, do. I was surprised and weirdly fascinated with my confusion on how to respond. Is she talking to me? Why is she telling me this? Is she expecting me to say something? If I do say something, what should it be? Who is this woman any way? What is she really trying to say? But that was it. She fell silent. I never said a word. The interaction ceased. What was the point in telling me all that? Was that purely a social exchange? Like talking about the weather? It would have been a lot simpler to just say "Bless your heart" and let it go, but no, I've lost my Southern finesse in summoning a sincere, non-confused "Bless your heart."


Some may mock the Southern ways but  buried beneath my adopted Northern attitudes and my native, out of practice Southerness, I found the simpleness of Southern speech and their lives deep in my soul, begging me to remember. In a little white house, on a piece of land that has been occupied for decades, I remembered why life here is simple, solid. Life doesn't get any sweeter than honey from Uncle Jay's bees nor is it as flavorful as the tomatoes grown in the summer sun. Life is lived in a steady course day after day. While some things have changed, their morals and principles have never wavered. Faith is simple. It is what it is because, well, it is. In her quiet, unassuming way, Aunt Katie told me about her life in less than thirty seconds. "Things may get hard. Life has a way of bein' hard, but that's okay. As long as you got the Lord beside ya, everything will be just fine. Y'all be all right." I knew what to say that time. A simple "Yes, ma'am." Simple wisdom from a simple woman.

Standing there in Aunt Katie's kitchen, an old tune ran through my mind, Bing Crosby weaving his way through her words and Uncle Jay's stories of being in the Navy during WWII and growing up in backwoods Arkansas.  

I love those dear hearts and gentle people

Who live in my hometown

Because those dear hearts and simple people

Will never ever let you down

They read the Good Book

From Fri to Monday

That's how the weekend goes

I've got a dream house

I'll build there one day

With picket fence and ramblin' rose

I feel so welcome each time that I return

That my happy heart keeps laughing like a clown

I love those dear hearts and gentle people

Who live and love in my hometown

Home, home, sweet home

Home, home, sweet home

So while I find myself caught hovering on either side of the Mason Dixon, I have to appreciate the talkative nature of the Southerners for they truly are dear hearts and gentle people.