Big sister is positively overflowing with excitement and affection.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Mom and Baby
And Mamma. She does have a little hemorage in her eye you can see in this picture (Mitch, that is).
Mitchie Mitch shows her face!
... and a right pretty one it is too! Michelle Suzanne (or Susanne-- yet to be decided) Roise weighs 9 pounds 12 ounces and measures a shocking 23 inches long. Mother and baby are both in good health and doing well (sleeping, I think).
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Quotes of the Day
Lewis: "Nooooose-wipe!" (then, explaining further): "Bubbles."
Inge, watching me take my temp: "And what time are you?"
Inge, watching me take my temp: "And what time are you?"
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Haiku for Childhood Illness
Mom. Mom. Mommy.
Moooom, mommy... mommymommymommy.
MOM. mom. Mommyyyyyyyyyy
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Our New Nephew
Father and son-- this is my brother Andrew and his son, Jeremiah Andrew Konstantin Roise. I think they're calling him "Jack."
Saturday, March 19, 2005
The Horrors of...Jello?
I have two kids and a husband. They have all been sick. And of that threesome, can you guess which two react with real terror and a sense of impending tragedy to my offers of Jello? That's right--not my husband. I made some beautiful, wholesome, jiggly lime jello for my invalids this week. Like eating emeralds, right? Wrong. After the two small ones had declined politely even to smell it for about four days running, we served it today as non-optional: one tiny forced bite of green jello, about 1 cm. cubed.
Tears.
Gags.
Heartbreak.
A immediate and noticeable decline in health (in both of them, even though Lewis is already convalescent.)
Inge took soon thereafter to the couch, wiping her tears, and Lewis gagged twice on the next bite of chicken, just to show me he was in earnest about the green stuff. I still have a whole container of green jello--now growing somewhat runny--in my fridge. But what does one do with leftover jello (now somewhat runny)? Please, send recipes.
Tears.
Gags.
Heartbreak.
A immediate and noticeable decline in health (in both of them, even though Lewis is already convalescent.)
Inge took soon thereafter to the couch, wiping her tears, and Lewis gagged twice on the next bite of chicken, just to show me he was in earnest about the green stuff. I still have a whole container of green jello--now growing somewhat runny--in my fridge. But what does one do with leftover jello (now somewhat runny)? Please, send recipes.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
A Toast for Today
"A toast-- to my nephews: to the now and the hereafter: to this Sabbath and the resurrection."
Would you trust those eyes?
I hope you all like the pictures as much as I do. This one just seemed like it needed to be posted as well.
Covenant Child #1
And the big girl herself-- also prepared for the gathering of the saints to worship God (a week ago).
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Caroling, and other things
On listening a little more closely this morning, I found out something: Lewis's version of "Little Drummer Boy" has uncommon elements. He seems to sing something about "giving playdough...pa-rum-pum-pum-pum." One wonders what shape the story of Bethlehem is beginning to take within his head.
Speaking of little heads and their concept of the world, Inge has had Canaanites much on the brain of late. Thanks to a combination of Dr. Leithart's preaching and Peter's explaining, she knows that the Canaanites and the Israelites were fundamentally opposed; but even after much questioning of her father, she didn't seem entirely satisfied about why the Israelites were supposed to kill all the Canaanites. Because of this, and at Peter's prompting, she asked Mr. Wilson about it the other night. But let me back up: since Inge doesn't understand the subtle nuancing that creates a distinction between the words "ask" and "tell," first she told Mr. Wilson about it. She told him, in fact, that the Canaanites were bad boys, and so God told the Israelites to kill them, and they walked around and walked around, and then Jericho fell down. At this juncture, her father interrupted to elaborate on the earlier instructions, and so Inge composed herself to inquire. She does this by looking concerned, and tilting her head.
Inge: "Now. Now, now, whhhyyyy did God tell the, the (having some trouble with the names) the Israelites to kill the Canaanites?" (with an air of finality) "Why?"
Mr. Wilson, we are happy to say, proved his wisdom by answering much like Daddy. He told her that he would only like to expand on her dad's response by saying that it was because the Canaanites were bad boys...and girls.
Speaking of little heads and their concept of the world, Inge has had Canaanites much on the brain of late. Thanks to a combination of Dr. Leithart's preaching and Peter's explaining, she knows that the Canaanites and the Israelites were fundamentally opposed; but even after much questioning of her father, she didn't seem entirely satisfied about why the Israelites were supposed to kill all the Canaanites. Because of this, and at Peter's prompting, she asked Mr. Wilson about it the other night. But let me back up: since Inge doesn't understand the subtle nuancing that creates a distinction between the words "ask" and "tell," first she told Mr. Wilson about it. She told him, in fact, that the Canaanites were bad boys, and so God told the Israelites to kill them, and they walked around and walked around, and then Jericho fell down. At this juncture, her father interrupted to elaborate on the earlier instructions, and so Inge composed herself to inquire. She does this by looking concerned, and tilting her head.
Inge: "Now. Now, now, whhhyyyy did God tell the, the (having some trouble with the names) the Israelites to kill the Canaanites?" (with an air of finality) "Why?"
Mr. Wilson, we are happy to say, proved his wisdom by answering much like Daddy. He told her that he would only like to expand on her dad's response by saying that it was because the Canaanites were bad boys...and girls.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Fashion and Poise
Isn't talking fun!? Maybe this is why we have such a hard time getting her to eat.
Sunday Afternoon
A successful Sabbath feast--Lewis is full and the bottle is empty-- don't jump to conclusions.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Gratifying Moments
Well, it sometimes happens. Buried amid those multitudinous "other" moments--the ones where your demure, well-controlled children burst a gasket in public and act like Walmart Kids on a Saturday morning pop-tart high --there are also times when they shine: truly, beautifully, and unexpectedly. Times like these...
...Lewis, having behaved himself like a perfect gentleman all through dinner, very decently selects out the five minutes before our company departs, and expends it by lying on his stomach with an un-illustrated copy of Leave it to Psmith before him, open halfway through, to all appearances simply picking up the story where he had last left off.
...Or then, there's Ingrid, hanging out with me while I clean up the family room. Though I hadn't looked for it for several days, it suddenly struck me that it might be worthwhile checking with Inge about a prized book of poetry I lost two or three weeks ago. I make simplistic overtures. "Inge," I begin, "Mommy lost a black book; have you seen it?" And my daughter replies, with utmost cordiality, "Was it your Ezra Pound?" (It was.)
...Lewis, having behaved himself like a perfect gentleman all through dinner, very decently selects out the five minutes before our company departs, and expends it by lying on his stomach with an un-illustrated copy of Leave it to Psmith before him, open halfway through, to all appearances simply picking up the story where he had last left off.
...Or then, there's Ingrid, hanging out with me while I clean up the family room. Though I hadn't looked for it for several days, it suddenly struck me that it might be worthwhile checking with Inge about a prized book of poetry I lost two or three weeks ago. I make simplistic overtures. "Inge," I begin, "Mommy lost a black book; have you seen it?" And my daughter replies, with utmost cordiality, "Was it your Ezra Pound?" (It was.)
Monday, February 14, 2005
New post further down
Title: Lewis. It got lost under the pile because it's been in drafts for a while.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
From the inner chamber
Overheard, from the bathroom: a peremptory voice declaring, "Hey! I'm in there!"
Inge had perceived an imaginary assailant outside the door, and in truth her fancy was not too farfetched, for within seconds there was a very real Lewis without. Lewis, like most children, has a radar device whose sole purpose is to detect the shutting of the bathroom door. Someday I'm going to run an experiment to support and quantify this hypothesis, but in the meantime I'm satisfied with the level of proof I've got: My children, at least, can and do know about every single trip I take, within no more than fifteen seconds and often less. Furthermore, they save all their requests until such time as they can convey them through the bathroom door--if, I mean, the door is locked, as it happily sometimes is.
Inge had perceived an imaginary assailant outside the door, and in truth her fancy was not too farfetched, for within seconds there was a very real Lewis without. Lewis, like most children, has a radar device whose sole purpose is to detect the shutting of the bathroom door. Someday I'm going to run an experiment to support and quantify this hypothesis, but in the meantime I'm satisfied with the level of proof I've got: My children, at least, can and do know about every single trip I take, within no more than fifteen seconds and often less. Furthermore, they save all their requests until such time as they can convey them through the bathroom door--if, I mean, the door is locked, as it happily sometimes is.
Lewis
When Lewis considers the heavens, he sings, "Bingle, Bingle, Liddo Dow." This, being translated, is the first line of Twinkle, Twinkle. He does this whenever he runs across something that looks to him like a star, be it a heavenly body or a starfish.
He loves to sing, and can be found at odd hours singing random phrases tunelessly, such as "Hooooly, hooooly," "A-B-C," "Holy Ghost," and "Hallelujah."
At night Lewis prays for his Uncle Andrew and Aunt Blessin's.
That little thing on your tummy? It's called a bally-bettin.
"Weenh! Weenh!" still means "what is this?"--as it has for months. The etymology is uncertain, but the meaning, unmistakeable.
Lewis has two favorite books: one is his "truck" book, and the other's name I have forgotten, because we know it by "Read! Bees!" It's the one about the bear that tries to find the bee hive while being tailed by two geese and three mice, and they all end up in a pile of trouble.
Lewis punctuation is of interest. For one thing, he puts an exclamation after each word, like this:
"Dump! Truck!"
"Want! Read! Bees!"
"Want! Lap! Please!"
"Drink! Want! Please!"
These sequences can occur in almost any order, but once begun they are repeated indefinitely, as in "Drink! Want! Please! Drink! Want!..."
One pair of words that sticks together without punctuation between is "fly-'gin." Lewis loves to "fly again," which means sitting on Daddy's lap and playing with the flight simulator. Peter has had the demo version for a couple of weeks now, such that it shuts down after five minutes of play--thus the origin of "fly-'gin." But I got him the full version for Valentine's Day; and this morning I found Lewis sitting resolutely on his lap, flying-'gin, and here's the funny bit: his eyes were drifting closed every two or three minutes because the engines were putting him to sleep. He wouldn't leave, though. Asleep or not, he still wanted to fly-'gin.
He loves to sing, and can be found at odd hours singing random phrases tunelessly, such as "Hooooly, hooooly," "A-B-C," "Holy Ghost," and "Hallelujah."
At night Lewis prays for his Uncle Andrew and Aunt Blessin's.
That little thing on your tummy? It's called a bally-bettin.
"Weenh! Weenh!" still means "what is this?"--as it has for months. The etymology is uncertain, but the meaning, unmistakeable.
Lewis has two favorite books: one is his "truck" book, and the other's name I have forgotten, because we know it by "Read! Bees!" It's the one about the bear that tries to find the bee hive while being tailed by two geese and three mice, and they all end up in a pile of trouble.
Lewis punctuation is of interest. For one thing, he puts an exclamation after each word, like this:
"Dump! Truck!"
"Want! Read! Bees!"
"Want! Lap! Please!"
"Drink! Want! Please!"
These sequences can occur in almost any order, but once begun they are repeated indefinitely, as in "Drink! Want! Please! Drink! Want!..."
One pair of words that sticks together without punctuation between is "fly-'gin." Lewis loves to "fly again," which means sitting on Daddy's lap and playing with the flight simulator. Peter has had the demo version for a couple of weeks now, such that it shuts down after five minutes of play--thus the origin of "fly-'gin." But I got him the full version for Valentine's Day; and this morning I found Lewis sitting resolutely on his lap, flying-'gin, and here's the funny bit: his eyes were drifting closed every two or three minutes because the engines were putting him to sleep. He wouldn't leave, though. Asleep or not, he still wanted to fly-'gin.
Kids
Kids don't think straight, and they can't see properly. You're lucky if you can teach them to hear. Somehow and from somewhere--my parents will think they know where--Inge inherited the carefree ability to:
...be standing on top of the shoes she's looking for, and still not see them.
...wash the toilet with bits of tissue dipped in the bowl and carefully wrung out, in the mistaken assumption that she's doing a good, though time-consuming, deed.
...to draw with crayons all over her white sheets, and not look guilty when I come in.
...to think that when someone is sleeping, you can whisper to them, and they can answer you, and it won't mess up their nap. Related, to think that when an adult in church, on the phone, or during your brother's nap, makes frantic gestures at you to be quiet, what they mean is to keep talking, but in a whisper.
...to scoot the piano bench on which Lewis is sitting ever closer to the piano until her brother is dangling from it by his heels and fingernails, his shrieks of alarm splitting the air, and never notice anything wrong.
...to climb the stairs during my naptime, with an ingenuous and charming desire to let me know that she had found "Jingle-Pooh" (presently our most coveted toy); and when banished, to stand at the bottom, jingling Jingle-Pooh, as if in proof that she hadn't made the story up.
...be standing on top of the shoes she's looking for, and still not see them.
...wash the toilet with bits of tissue dipped in the bowl and carefully wrung out, in the mistaken assumption that she's doing a good, though time-consuming, deed.
...to draw with crayons all over her white sheets, and not look guilty when I come in.
...to think that when someone is sleeping, you can whisper to them, and they can answer you, and it won't mess up their nap. Related, to think that when an adult in church, on the phone, or during your brother's nap, makes frantic gestures at you to be quiet, what they mean is to keep talking, but in a whisper.
...to scoot the piano bench on which Lewis is sitting ever closer to the piano until her brother is dangling from it by his heels and fingernails, his shrieks of alarm splitting the air, and never notice anything wrong.
...to climb the stairs during my naptime, with an ingenuous and charming desire to let me know that she had found "Jingle-Pooh" (presently our most coveted toy); and when banished, to stand at the bottom, jingling Jingle-Pooh, as if in proof that she hadn't made the story up.
More boogers
This morning I caught Lewis hiding something largish under his pillow. His aspect spoke of practicality, and (possibly, although I hope not) force of habit. Any guesses?
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Boogers
We didn't have naps today; we had boogers. More specifically, Inge had boogers, so I didn't have a nap. Both times I considered drifting off, an urgent whisper from the other side of the house forestalled me; and I rounded the corner to see my daughter on her back in her bed, triumphantly brandishing her forefinger at me with a fresh offering attached.
This situation led to the highly unusual circumstance of me spanking someone for having boogers. Never done that before. (For all you justice buffs out there, in point of fact I got her on the technicality of picking her nose a second time, not just for being in possession of...um...well, you know.)
This situation led to the highly unusual circumstance of me spanking someone for having boogers. Never done that before. (For all you justice buffs out there, in point of fact I got her on the technicality of picking her nose a second time, not just for being in possession of...um...well, you know.)
A Classic Exchange
Loud Scream heard from the upper rooms. I dash (in a manner of speaking) up the stairs. Lewis is weeping tragically. Inge looks in fine form.
"INGE," I intone majestically. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO BUDDY?"
"Weeeeeellllllllll....," she says, playfully cocking her head at the rug and skewing about like a waterlogged toy boat.
"Inge!"
"Weeeelllll....Buddy hit me."
"Ah. And what did you do him?"
"I patted him on the head."
"INGE," I intone majestically. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO BUDDY?"
"Weeeeeellllllllll....," she says, playfully cocking her head at the rug and skewing about like a waterlogged toy boat.
"Inge!"
"Weeeelllll....Buddy hit me."
"Ah. And what did you do him?"
"I patted him on the head."
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