Sep 17, 2015

Bedroom Makeovers

9/17/2015 — cori
I spent an inordinate amount of time painting this summer. Bennett and I had already planned to redo his room and bring it up to "Teenager Cool". It only took a week and a lot of squats, multiple trips to Home Depot for extra paint, a tiny mental breakdown over my ancient sewing machine, a few vinyl letters and a lot of tape and sweat - but we pulled it off. He was my right hand man. We did it all by ourselves (except for installing the vinyl letters - that needed Chuck's steady hand and detailed precision). His room is the perfect reflection of him. He can't help but smile every time he walks in it, passes it or does anything in it. But that's also who he is....he's a smiler, he does everything with a smile on his face (except painting - I don't believe I once saw him smile while we were painting).


Our school mascot is The Farmington Tigers. He bleeds school spirit. His favorite colors are black and orange - so that worked out pretty good for us. He didn't want to go with any tiger print though (I knew he inherited some of my design sense - animal prints are not cool). He picked all the colors (I only helped with the orange since it had to match the curtains I found).


I found those curtains pre-made at IKEA. Unfortunately, they were like 3 feet too long. I spent almost an entire day re-reading my 1930's sewing machine manual trying for the 759th time to remember how to insert the darn bobbin. I was spitting nails by the second hour of messing with my sewing machine. I think a sewing fairy must have appeared out of nowhere while my head was bowed in frustration and fixed my ineptitude that eventually allowed me to finish my course and hang up drapes that actually had a straight hem in the same color thread (that is a miracle)!


Chuck was also responsible for hanging the mini basketball hoop. I don't know if you noticed the theme yet, but it is something like "Basketball,Tigers Basketball, Michael Jordan, Basketball, Dirk Nowitzki, Teenage Appropriate, Basketball Cool"

And then I don't know what seized me, maybe being in 'Designer Mode' I just couldn't help myself, I asked Gavin if he would like a cool new room for the TWO YEARS he has left living with us. After I blinked away the tears upon realizing the stark reality of time, I think I heard him say, "Sure".

I know with makeover pictures you're supposed to show before and after shots. But it seems I always forget to take the before shot. I'm so excited and focused on the after. I'm sure I could dig some out of my picture archives, but...oh well, you're stuck with only 'after' shots in this update.


Gavin had very particular opinions. He wanted his room to be gray and he wanted to make the ledge on the one wall navy blue. He has a basement room that has always looked a little 'cave-like' to me. Not anymore. It now has the light and bright appearance of a normal room with a normal sized window.This room is such a vivid representation of who he is. He is calm. (disclaimer - he is not calm when he is painting. He is huffing and puffing like he is going to blow the house down. He is telling me all about how from now on he will pay someone to paint for him. He will never again paint a wall. However, he was super pleased with himself after seeing the finished product. I let him vent and then I let him feel the joy of a job well done). He picked out both pictures. I honestly didn't know he loved nature prints. I would have picked out those pictures. It also makes perfect sense with his new love - archery. 


We made the bow be like art work above his bed. It is a fun way to store and display his bow. I love how he has a remnant of his boyhood past displayed proudly on his top shelf. He organized his shelves the way he wanted them. It took much encouragement, but I was finally able to get him to rearrange his furniture in a way for optimal space planning. He is such a creature of routine/habit, that this was really hard for him. The only way he let me do it was by promising him that if he didn't like my new configuration, I would gladly put it all back the way he originally had it (yes - I was that confident he would like it). He ended up liking my way better and the rest is history.


He picked out that super cool hanging light at IKEA. It was his second choice. The first one looked a little more robotic and was way over budget. He put the entire light together on his own. We even took out the old light and installed the new one all by ourselves. We were beyond proud of that accomplishment. We didn't even get electrocuted. I also had the same battle with my sewing machine while working with Gavin's curtains. I won the battle in half the time it took me to do Bennett's. I consider that 'learning from my mistakes'. 

Chloe did not get a room makeover this summer, but she kinda got one this past Christmas when she got her new loft bed. I wanted to remember what an 11 year old girl's bedroom looks like so I snapped a bunch of photos. Chloe has a wee bit of a problem with the whole pack-rat thing. She also loves to arrange things in ways that only seem to make sense to her. I love this precious little girl room. Not too long from now we'll be making it a "Teenage Girl" room. I want to just live in the moment right now.


She still plays with her stuffed animals, especially horses. She always has a ton of crap on her dresser. To her, this is clean. I don't see things her way. But it is organized and 'cleanish' so I let it go. 


This is possibly the cleanest I've seen her desk area since we put it together. She is the Queen of Trinkets. 


Here's a nice view of the side of her loft bed. Everything is in it's place. Having a decorator mom must be hard because I have an instinctual knowledge of what looks good and what doesn't. Chloe doesn't really care about my 'knowledge'. She likes what she likes and no one is going to change her mind. I love that about her. I love that I can't connive, control or convince her. She is so her own person and for that I respect her and love her all the more for staying true to herself.



Sep 11, 2015

School Starts

9/11/2015 — cori
The ease and calm 
of summer is gone.

In it's place 
is busy and haste.

Our eyes awake
when the dawn breaks.

The schedule of school
now becomes the rule.

Our minds grow strong
from teachers all day long.

We learn and we grow
from all that we know.

We practice and play
and learn new ways
to grow skills and strengths
that will take us to new lengths
in our bodies and minds.

Living strong and kind
is the goal of mine.

Thankful hearts will be in store
as summer rolls around once more.

The cycle will again repeat 
and our lives will be complete.


Chloe is in 6th grade already. I'm in denial. My baby is in middle school. She is still attending the local project-based charter school. This is her second year there and she is thriving. She is excited about taking new things like choir and creative writing and possibly being in the Color Guard. She's looking forward to track again in the spring and still loves to ride her bike and play with friends after school.


This is what I got when I asked Bennett to show me 'strong'. He's pumped to be at the top of middle school in 8th grade this year. He loves everything about it. They were given alot of choices about what classes they wanted to take this year. So far, (after 3 days in school) his favorite is Spanish. This is also going to be his break out year in basketball. He's spent so many hours this summer training it's ridiculous. He is physically and mentally ready to take on anything this basketball season brings his way.


Gavin is a junior this year. Let me repeat that: Gavin is a JUNIOR! OMG!!! I thought I was still a junior. How can he be? We are not the same. He had major scheduling issues this year and had to rearrange his entire schedule 2 days before school started. Unfortunately, he had to drop German 3 due to a conflict and now is taking 4 AP courses instead. He has always loved to learn and enjoys a challenge, thus why he choose such an aggressive schedule. But we have every confidence in the effort he puts into his studies. He is also Junior Captain of his Mock Trial team this year. See that red string dangling from his pocket. This is the cool new thing kids do these days. Everyone knows that the cool kids have lanyards for key chains instead of boring ol actual key chains like their lame parents. That is one sign that I'm not a junior any more. I don't own a lanyard. 


And yes, I started school again this year too. Not only as a teacher but also as a student. In addition to teaching English to immigrants and refugees part-time, I am also starting graduate school at Hamline University in St. Paul. It has been exactly 20 years since the last time I was in college. This is really stretching me. My first goal is to attain an Adult ESL certificate. We'll see where things lead from there.



Sep 10, 2015

Scaling Mountains

9/10/2015 — cori
Since we don't technically have mountains here in Minnesota, we have to make our own. Thus, The Pinnacle at REI. We love it here. Well, at least 4 out of the 5 'We's'. Let's just say that I'm learning to love it. I love the idea. I love the adrenaline rush, I love the exhilaration after completing something you previously thought you couldn't. But I'm still working on the the whole 'fear of falling thing'. That is why it is ever so helpful to be harnessed in. I love harnesses. I love knots. I love the person attached to the ground making sure I don't/can't fall and if I do she is there to reel me in like a fish. Sometimes I get a little floppy like a fish when all my limbs turn to jello. But I'm happy to report that all limbs stayed 'normal' this go around. No jello legs. No locked fingers. No uncontrollably shaky knees. No gag reflex.


Here is my new best friend. She ties pretty knots. If I'm going to be tied to a harness, I at least want the knot to be pretty. However, I can tell in this picture I look a little doubtful. We do not want a harness malfunction. Especially since I will be scaling the wall that says, "ok for 5+". You've got to start somewhere. I've decided baby steps are the best course of action (remember Bob? in What About Bob - my favorite!). I'm keeping my goals small and attainable. Notice, I'm not showing you a picture of me on the wall, it's embarrassingly smaller than what the rest of the family scaled. 


I'm so proud of my girl. She is so strong. And she can climb much harder walls than me. She is very good at this. Kind of ironic that she's scared of her tooth falling out, but not these heights.


Chuck is not even wearing Adventure Pants yet he is owning this climb. Way to go, Baby! He even had a sore/bruised/injured thumb and still managed to make it to the top pretty fast.


You would have thought Gavin was in a race to get to the top. He is so fast at rock climbing. He looks like spider man, seriously. His 7 year old self would have been super stoked to hear me say that!


I love this picture. It looks like God is shining down on this rock telling Bennett, "This is the one Bennett. Climb it" as Bennett looks on with reverent awe. He is also scared of heights, but you would never had known it by his ascension up this rock face. 

I like climbing at REI, danger is sort of out of the picture and fun is all that is left. That's my kind of thrill-seeking. I have a feeling though, that that's not enough for the rest of my people. It doesn't fit in with our family motto which states: "We're not having an adventure unless mom is scared." 

Sep 7, 2015

Mistaken Identity

9/07/2015 — cori

So, we were at church today (looking just like this and sitting in this order) and someone asked us the most ridiculous question. First of all, we are all dressed so casually because it was supposed to be an outside picnic/church service until it decided to thunderstorm all morning, so that didn't happen. Chloe and Bennett were off somewhere else leaving Chuck, Gavin and I sitting by our lonesome. Someone I had never met before leans over and says, "Hi, I've not met you before, are you guys brothers and sister or just friends?"

And I was like, "Um, excuse me???"

And she went on to repeat her question exactly the same way. It was at this point that I realized she wasn't joking.

While gesturing with my hand, I responded with, "Uh, we're his parents."

"Oh." says lady who has no clue about people's ages.

Awkward moment ensues.

I don't know if she assumes that Gavin just looks older and more mature than he is or we just act and look younger and less mature than we are.

We're still laughing.

Aug 31, 2015

The Tree Fort

8/31/2015 — cori
We pass this house multiple times a day on Ninja's walk. It makes me want to puke. This is like the "perfect" tree fort or elevated play house or whatever you want to call it. It even has a patio, roof with shingles and windows. Obviously it isn't finished yet. I'm sure they plan to brick this little piece of perfection or at the very least put up all weather siding. I'm sure it will also include real glass windows, possibly some furniture and maybe even a tiny HVAC system. And the worst part of the whole thing is the the mom is building it all by herself! Overachiever. She even has a tool belt and a power nail gun thingy. I saw her on scaffolding the other day. First of all, what mom has time to do a project of this nature and magnitude with 4 kids to care for? Secondly, where did she learn such incredible carpentry skills and lastly, why am I so jealous?


The reason for my jealousy probably stems from the fact that our own tree fort pales in comparison. 


Most people think it's a deer stand that we've created in the woods. They would be wrong. Chuck just isn't finished with it yet. It's a work in progress (for over 1 1/2 now). We (the Chuck part of we) still have to put up a railing. Chloe will be 16 by time this piece of art is completed and Gavin might be graduated from college. I hope he's not building it for me and him.


If you notice, I'd like to point out some special features that our deer stand has that the other 'perfect' tree fort lacks...such as the classy rusted out pot hanging off one post on string. Also, we like to recycle our plastic Target bags, as you can plainly see it dangling off the edge of the unfinished post. And since we're going for the 'classy' look, we figured an empty plastic bucket laying around under the fort should also come in handy for something at some point (possible bathroom?). Sometimes Chloe puts her camping chair up there for seating. Another nice touch.


Can you see the fort/playhouse/deer stand from our back door? Nope. That would be on purpose. It might bring down the value of our house if seen by an appraiser. It is so far in the backwoods as to be secluded. It is also deep in the mosquito territory and behind our pile of wood to burn. Did I mention it was built on an incredible slope? I don't think miss perfect tree house builder had slope issues to deal with. She has a perfectly even lot to build her perfect little tree house upon. Also...did you see any trees in her 'tree house'? Not a one. We (Chuck), on the other hand, have masterfully built our tree fort around not one, not two, but three different trees. Talk about overachieving!

Migratory Pain Syndrome

8/31/2015 — cori

This most wonderful handsome guy has a problem. He has diagnosed it all on his own. I'm rather proud of him. I think he may be on to something. This could possibly change the world....well, at least all those in the over 40 crowd. 

You see, ever since he turned 40 some two years ago he has noticed odd, little pains throughout his body for no reasons at all. Each morning he awakes to find a new and different pain. One day it might be an excessively twitching eyebrow, the next day his knee locks up and chooses not to work all day and still another his pinky toe is in massive pain affecting his walk. 

He has appropriately named his malady, "Migratory Pain Syndrome". He is a namer of things. Now that this affliction has a name it is easier to cope with. It becomes more of a new, daily surprise. I might wake up saying, "Hey Babe, what seems to be hurting you today?". And he'll assess his fragile condition and give me the daily MPS Report. It's become quite the hilarious tradition.

Not that I'm complaining about getting older. I love getting older. I love the wisdom, experience, depth and insight that comes with age. What I don't love is how our bodies need a little higher degree of maintenance. This is how we are embracing it. One random body pain at a time.  

Aug 27, 2015

Camping In August Sucks

8/27/2015 — cori
Six months ago some friends asked us to go camping with them Up North. We told them we'd love to but warned them of the Mallott Camping Rain Curse. They told us not to worry. They would cancel out our bad luck. They've been to this location every year for 8 years and it would be fine. They didn't seem to understand our incessant bad luck while camping here in Minnesota. Oh well, we figured we'll just wait and see. If you pick mid-August to go camping, you should be guaranteed heat and sun. Not in Minnesota.

A tiny little Arctic Blast decided to swoop it's way down on the exact day we headed out for our latest camping adventure. Imagine that?! We've had gorgeous weather the past several weeks, but on the third week of August, all beauty left and was replaced with Old Man Winter reaching his crooked, ugly claws into our highly anticipated camping weekend.

The day we left to drive the 3 hours north the expected high was 55. In August!!! I don't think it ever really made it to 55. Also, we had a 25 mile an hour wind gust to deal with. Oh, and it was a lovely shade of gray all day long. Windy, cold and gray just makes things feel even colder. I tried to stay optimistic, I really did. I even came up with a list of three things to be thankful about:

1. there are no mosquitos when it's this cold
2. sunsets are usually pretty with this much cloud cover
3. we're together

See...I tried. To make matters even worse, there wasn't even one teeny tiny hiking trail to be found. Not a one. We are hikers. Big time. *Big Sigh*. Oh well. After setting up camp, we walked over to our friend's campsite and all sat in their pop-up which had heat. Forget a campfire, we need propane!

Technically it was nicer the next day. The sun came out. Woo-hoo! But it wasn't necessarily warmer. And the wind was still going strong. This second day we planned to go out on the pontoon boat and fish. Actually, that was supposed to be the plan for the first day and the second day we were supposed to get a speed boat and water-ski. This was an activity I was especially looking forward to being that I've never been water-skiing. But the water apparently had just thawed out from this past winter and was un-swimmable unless you had on a wet suit or are native to this region.

COLD was the theme of this whole disastrous adventure. On the third day we woke up to 38 degrees. We don't have heat in our tents. Nor did we bring winter coats. However, as we packed up to go home, it was warming up nicely. By time we left it was a balmy 70 degrees out. We just have the worst luck ever.

Like I said, awesome sunset. There will be alot of these since I'm trying to stay positive.

I stayed on the dock for a long time soaking it all in. This was my happy place. 

All the cold seemed to melt as I stood here gazing at the heavens with a smile on my face.
There are another 30 sunset pictures on my camera. You're lucky I only posted 3.

The campsite. It was nice and large.


Chloe also took advantage of the sunset with me.

Bennett climbed a tree at sunset


Chloe and I took a selfie at sunset. 

Sitting around the campfire at sunset. (Notice the 'sunset' theme yet?)
Those with shorts on and short sleeves were just plain crazy.

Day Two on the pontoon

Gavin's first ever fish. No, he didn't catch it with his bare hands.
He used a fishing pole and bait. He says he'll never fish again though.

Bennett getting a lesson from Dad on how to cast.
He called his fishing pole his Fish Stick. Only Bennett.

Apparently his fish stick worked great because he caught the biggest fish of everyone.
He caught a Rock Bass. I guess you don't eat these fish because we threw everyone of them back.

Chloe's first ever fish. You can tell she's not so sure about it. She also said she'll 
probably never fish again. She feels bad about putting a hole in the fish's mouth.

The obligatory flower photo. I'm drawn to sunsets and flowers. I can't help it. I love beauty 
and this is where I find it. Unfortunately, I don't find fish beautiful.


Chuck and Gavin way up in the perfect climbing tree.

Finally Making Progress

8/27/2015 — cori
You would think we have been on hiatus from our bathroom remodel project being that I haven't posted nary a picture in over 3 months. And you would be correct. When the sun is out and it is hot, we are outside. All other priorities are trumped by the sun. We take advantage of any and all time we can get outdoors where we can feel hot or warmish because it is such a rarity.

However, all is not lost on the bathroom front. Luckily for the bathroom, we've had several rainy weekends and have been more or less forced in doors. Not that we haven't been working on it here or there over the summer, but it's just not anything to write home about. Who wants to see pictures of cement board being put up over studs? Who wants to see Chuck agonizing on the garage floor as he painstakingly cuts each board with a razor blade. There might be more appropriate tools to use to speed up this process.  If there were - we didn't know about them. So, since this part of the job was about as much fun as getting your wisdom teeth pulled out, we kinda procrastinated just a wee bit.

But alas, it is done and the water-proof material has been layered on top of that. Now the real fun has begun. But before we could do most of the real fun, we had to do alot of math. Think of our shower stall as one big jigsaw puzzle. It took so much measuring for us to figure out where to start the tiles and in what order. No one told us all this math would be necessary in order to have a beautiful bathroom. But we persevered and made it through to the other side.


Chuck is letting me do most of the tiling since his hand is still tired from cutting all the cement board. Plus, he realized I'm actually good at that. My days of only being the helper are apparently over. I'm a legitimate tiler now. I feel so much more accomplished rather than only being sent to get the tape measure or the level or tape off the doorway in plastic.


Chuck is more the details kind of guy. Therefore, he does the small stuff well. I'm more of a big picture kinda girl...thus, being allowed to do the big tiles and the overall design of the room suits me best. We're quite the team. At this rate, I bet we'll be done by October. Need I remind anyone that that is the original date I set for project completion? Ms. Big Picture forsaw the whole summer hiatus thing happening and adjusted her expectations accordingly. I'm just sayin'.

Aug 18, 2015

On Wanting To Fit In

8/18/2015 — cori

The other day we were visiting with some neighbors who were talking about how moving to this small town wasn't what they were hoping it would be. They said that people here were too 'clicky', not welcoming enough. They felt snubbed. They still feel like outsiders after more than 10 years of living here. We discussed how alot of small towns have that and how its one of those things you just accept when you move there. You take the good with the bad, right? You realize that over time, maybe people will become more accepting of you once they get to know you.

Later on the conversation moved to the topic of our individual heritages and where our families were originally from. One of the people spoke up and said, "Enough with our old ethnicities, we're Americans now and those ethnicities don't matter. Too many immigrants nowadays want to come here and force their customs and ways on our country. They need to be more American.  It didn't used to be like this. Back in the old days people tried hard to assimilate and become more American."

I didn't say much in response to what this person said because number one, I was too taken back by such vitriol towards people he doesn't even know, yet hates. I was aghast at animosity towards others who want to be accepted by people around them when he was just complaining about the exact same problem. I was amazed at the level of racism that permeates every facet of our country when our country only exists because of immigrants. The only true people native to this land we've shoved onto small parcels of undesirable land (don't even get me started on our treatment of Native Americans - it's purely shameful). 

Since my tongue was tied the day this person spewed his opinions in my direction, it took several days for me to find my footing and figure out how I wanted to respond. My heart was broken. I didn't want to respond in anger or ignorance. That would make me exactly like this other person. This post is my response.

Being that I work with and know alot of immigrants as an ESL teacher, I know quite a bit about what they go through moving here to America. Many of them never even imagined themselves here but were forced out of their native homelands by war, death threats, or starvation. Others I know wanted to come because other family members live here or because they have an American spouse. Still others came with hopes of starting fresh with the hope of the 'American Dream'. Everyone has a story.

I know one lady who was chosen to come to the US from a Somalian refugee camp before her husband and son. If she refused to come, she may never be chosen again. It's been 5 years since she moved here and every single day she waits and wishes for her family, hardly ever getting the chance to talk to them. She works long hours at a factory and still finds time to go to school every day of the week before work to learn better English. She was never allowed to go to school back in Somalia. Yes, she wears a hijab. Yes, she is of a different skin color. Yes, she is Muslim. But I didn't think any of those things disqualified her from living in the U.S. We are supposedly a nation of tolerance.

I know a 63 year old man who had to stop going to school at age 7 and start going to work after his father was injured on the job. He grew up in Pakistan. After getting married he moved to Dubai and raised his 4 children on the salary of an auto mechanic.  He worked for the same company for 30 years and never once knew how to read or write in his own language of Urdu. He can speak 5 languages. He can manage over 100 employees. He moved to America to live with his son after he retired. He is happy to live with his extended family (his son married an American lady) as is their custom. He takes his grandchildren to school every morning. He works the night shift at Walmart so he can have health insurance to still care for his wife. He works all night and comes to school in the morning for 3 hours. He now knows how to read English and gets tears in his eyes when he explains to people that he knows how to read now. He goes to the library every week to check out new books to read while on his dinner break at Walmart. He has an infectious laugh. He loves to travel. He loves to cook food for his entire mosque on special days. Is he not American enough? 

I know a lady who's parents left her and her sisters behind with her grandparents when she was 5 years old to come to America and try to earn enough money to send back home to Mexico so their children could eat. They scrimped and saved for years in order to be able to pay for visas for their children to come to the US at a chance for a better life. It took 14 years until the family could be together again. This lady worked two jobs and went to school after moving here legally. She learned survival English but still feels insecure and comes to school to help improve her English. She lives with a constant sense of not being good enough. 

These people migrate towards others they feel they have commonalities with. They attend the same church, temple, mosques with like-minded people. Just like we do. They live in housing they can afford, just like we do. Oftentimes, they are scared in this new country and so they congregate with others who are similar to them. Just as I would do if I moved to a new country. The first person I saw that spoke my language and had similar likes and dislikes and understood my culture is the person I would want to be around. Little communities grow up out of these commonalities. 

It is not 'these people' trying to change America to be more like their culture. 'These people' are just used to a certain way of life and are trying to keep some of that familiarity in tact while also trying to assimilate in an often-time starkly different culture. It is completely understandable. Yet, we'd rather accuse them of not being American enough. What does that look like exactly? How do you be American? Do you have to be white, drive a nice car, live in an expensive house, speak flawless English, have a 9-5 job and be a Christian? 

Our civil liberties include among other things the freedom of assembly, to dissent with our government on issues, to worship as we choose. Why does the government care which clothes I choose to wear? They don't usually, unless those clothes are Muslim looking. Why are we so suspicious? Is this a new fear? Don't we wish we could go back to the 'good old days'? America's hatred of immigrants has a long and ugly history that seems to be glossed over and forgotten about.

Actually, there were no 'good old days'. Maybe for a few white people, but not for a large majority of the population of our country. When people use this line of reasoning, it is based solely on opinion, an ideal, a romanticized version of reality. It is ignorance of the facts. Here are some facts from the 'good old days':

Roosevelt (before he was president) issued this speech in St. Louis in 1916, "I stand for straight Americanism unconditioned and unqualified and I stand against every form of hyphenated Americanism...Unless the immigrant becomes in good faith an American and nothing else, then he is out of place in this country and the sooner he leaves the better." I guess this is where we get our idea of people needing to 'act' American. I guess it means you can have no fondness for your native country. This speech was given right before America entered WWI. Nativism was rampant and fear of 'hyphenated Americans' was all the rage. Hyphenated Americans were German-Americans at the time. You can substitute any country nowadays. Patriotism equalled exclusion of anyone not like us.

Ever heard of the Alien and Sedition Acts? This government proclamation made it illegal for any one from Germany  who was not a 'naturalized citizen' to posses firearms, criticize the government in writing, use aircraft or wireless devices or reside in certain areas of the country. If people in your town heard you speaking any other language other than English you would be ostracized and worse. Often times people were accused and sentenced for crimes they didn't commit just because they were German. Does any of this sound familiar? We repeated this exact same brand of patriotism against immigrants or 'alien enemies' in our country multiple times since then; WWII, McCarthyism Era, post 9/11. Our own government sent thousands of it's own American citizens who happened to have Japanese, German or Italian heritage to internment camps during WWII - just because they weren't 'American enough'.

My own great-grandparents came to America during this uninviting time of the turn of the century, pre-WWI, when being different could cost you your life or your livelihood. No wonder they told my grandparents when they were children to only speak English, no more Polish. The way their new country treated them affected the way they raised their children. It's unAmerican to be proud of your heritage, supposedly. At least that's what many people were led to believe by the media, the government and their neighbors.

I'm not claiming that all immigrants are saints. I'm aware that its a much more complex issue. But I believe that you wouldn't judge another as harshly if you actually took time to know the 'other'. If you have met only horrible, unthankful immigrants, then I guess I can understand having a negative outlook on this topic. But if you don't know one immigrant, haven't taken the time to hear their story, eat at their table, look at the world through their lens, then you cannot hold a legitimate opinion about them until you do.

If we really did treat others the way we wished to be treated imagine how much nicer the world would be. Patriotism shouldn't mean exclusion of others because of their differences.  That's as immature as children on the playground. If we saw children treating each other as harsh as adults do, we'd put a stop to it, teach them to be kind, point out that we can learn from differences. We all need each other, we just don't know it yet.

Aug 12, 2015

Bibliophile

8/12/2015 — cori

Yesterday Chloe spent the better part of the afternoon laying out front on a quilt spread on the cool grass with a book in front of her and her camera ever close by.  She took this awesome photo while contentedly enjoying her time outside.

We might appear that we have a problem.  We have books lying around all over this house.  I woke up this morning and went to sit in the front room to drink my tea and read, as is the custom, and this is what I beheld:

4 books laying haphazardly on the coffee table

5 books piled up by the chair

as well as the ever constant stack by my chair

This is what I love most about my house. There are books in every corner of every room on every surface being read, waiting to be read, and/or on a shelf after being enjoyed. This makes my heart happy. The rooms might look a little cluttered, there may be some random book on the floor, counter top, or side table but you will never see me exasperated by it.  I will be smiling and content because it shows me that my children are always growing their minds, always learning, always seeking new ideas and adventures, always enveloped in imagination. 

The summer has been a wonderful time of immersing our selves in books for pleasure. Chuck often comes home from work to find all of us sitting in the front room curled up with our own books, lost in some other time. It's peaceful. It's our happy place. He can't wait to join us. I'm so thankful we all share this love of reading and that it binds us together. Not only do we love to read together, we love to share what we learn from what we're reading. We have some of the most fun, informative, interesting, challenging, inspiring conversations based on what we're reading. 

#thankfulthisismylife

#lovebooks

Aug 11, 2015

Girls

8/11/2015 — cori

This has to be my single most favorite thing about having a girl - always holding hands.  We hold hands everywhere we go, on a walk, at the grocery store, downstairs to watch tv, while hiking, at church....there's really no place you shouldn't hold hands. And it's not of the 'protective variety' as you do when your kids are like 1 or 2 and you need to hold their hands to corral them and keep them safe while crossing a street or in a parking lot. It' s initiated by Chloe every single time. She wants to hold my hand.

When the kids were younger and I was being touched all the time all day long, it used to make me feel rather smothered.  But as they get older, no longer physically need me to help them with as many things, the less we touch, the more I miss it.  When the kids are little, you take for granted all the touching (carrying, kissing boo-boos, wiping crumbs off their face, cuddling, wrestling, rocking to sleep) and often times you wish you could have a break because it wears you out.

But as they age, the more touch you seem to crave. Both of you still need those assurances that you're wanted, needed, loved. I'm not a very 'touchy' person naturally but my children have taught me to be better at that. I once read that the older your children get the more they need you to purposefully touch them to remind them of how much you still love them.  Even though they are pulling away and trying to find their own independence, they still yearn for your gentle, calming, reassuring touch. 

With that in mind, I try to rub Gavin's back as often as possible, hug him when he leaves for school and when he comes home. Often times I catch him doing the same for me, initiating a hand hold, rubbing my arm, holding me close to him with his arm over my shoulder. Bennett is the King of Touch; actually, maybe only the Prince...his Dad wins the trophy for the King of Touch. But Bennett has to always hug me, multiple times a day...he needs it like he needs to breathe.  He always offers to rub my feet and hands. I am well aware of his love language.

But it's Chloe who always wants to hold my hand. I thought she would grow out of it and it would become 'uncool', but no, we're still holding strong.  Just today, while waiting at a stoplight, I saw a mom and her teenage daughter crossing the street...holding hands.  A huge smile came to my face. I know all about them now...they are connected.  They have a strong heart to heart bond and it comes out in wanting to hold hands all the time.  


It must be a girl thing.

Aug 6, 2015

Mall Girl Talk

8/06/2015 — cori
This shirt, like, totally describes my life right now. Like, you wouldn't even understand. 

See, like, everyday when the kids (like, especially Bennett and Chloe) are like, making their lunch and whatever...they like, talk all "mall girl" the whole time.  And I'm like, "Hey guys, like, are you speaking all valley girl?" 

And then they're like, "As if! That is so last year, Mom. It's called 'mall girl' now."  

So I'm all like, "Whatever!" 

And then Bennett's like, "That's totally, cra cra." 

So I'm like, "I don't even know what that means." 

And he's all, "I know, right?!" 

And then Chloe busts out with, "Oh no you dit-ent!" and he's all, "You know it!". 

So I go all cra, cra and join in with, "Can you like, not!" and then Chloe encourages me to keep up my old school valley girl with, "work it girl!"

Then Bennett looks at me and is like, "BT Dubs, I love you're hair girl. We're over!" 

So I'm like, "Whatever!"

We then head downstairs to eat lunch while we watch our daily episode of either House Hunter's International or Brain Games pretending the past 15 minutes never happened. It's highly unfortunate that I have yet to record these two cra-cra's talking like this because it is absolutely hilarious and goes on and on and on. Bennett has THE best mall girl voice and body language imitation. Figures. Some people have all the luck. 

The kids were literally shocked that I actually could match them with my valley girl speak, all be it ancient history. They may have new phrases now.  And I'm learning, but the voice, that can't be taught.  It's a gift.  And I'm workin' it! 

Remember....this is my lunch existence every day this summer. Have mercy on me. I can't help it any more. Sometimes it even rolls into our conversations while we're playing cards or riding bikes or making dinner. And then I'm all like, "Can you like, not!"



Blog Archive