Sophia

Scientific Method

Abigail was quoted in the Knoxville Sentinel today. She was dressed like Galileo when talking to the reporter. She was so proud that the way the reporter started his article was Galileo was there. “Oh yeah, he’s talking about me,” bragged Abigail. The irony of her later quote is what is killing me. I must blog about it. Don’t mind me as I ramble on about the whole experience. Sometimes this blog acts as my personal journal and our family historian. If you want the abridged version just read the next paragraph and scroll to the end.

I can only blog about this because Abigail is usually a great student. She always scores in advanced on her T-Caps. She is in all Honors classes. She got straight A’s her first quarter of middle school. So you can imagine our dismay when a few days ago, Abigail came home with her report card and there was a big fat F in Science. We were appalled.

My friend Rita said that when she saw Abigail at the school it
 reminded her of how they always depict God in the movies.
It wasn’t until I took this picture and added it to my blog
that I realized what she was talking about.

We have come to the conclusion that the grade is the fault of three bad combinations: 1- Our neglect due to the move. 2- Abigail’s complacency and 3 – We are pretty sure Abigail will eventually be diagnosed as ADHD.

What most people don’t understand about ADHD kids is that a lot of them are extremely bright. There is an ADHD subset that usually gets overlooked. They are the ones that do very well in school because they are so bright.

My husband was a kid like that. He was just recently diagnosed with ADHD as a 35 year old adult. Ritalin has been an eye-opening experience for LG. The first time he took the drug, he said to me, “Oh my gosh Alice, my mind is so clear. It’s crazy. Just imagine what I could have done if I had some Ritalin while in law school.”

Anyhow, back to the story. Abigail brought home this F. It was horrifying. I immediately e-mailed her teacher and talked to her principal on the phone. I am a little worried how this will effect Abigail’s placement at her new school after we move. The timing is awful, but hopefully we can get her new school to understand the extreme abnormality of this grade. The good news is that maybe now we can get her doctor and school to understand our concern for her ADHD.  They wouldn’t agree to look into the possibility when she had straight A’s, but now they will hopefully be able to see a little window into what we are dealing with on a larger scale.

When LG sat down with Abigail last night to review her individual assignment grades it was no surprise to us that Abigail said that on each low grade she had forgot to either turn it in, complete it, or study. She has science first period and even if she does pay close enough attention to instructions, which she often considers non-essential information, it’s gone by the end of the day. She is just not engaged by things that don’t require real thinking and she is simultaneously totally overwhelmed by the structure in this class. Her teacher has about ten things going on at once and it’s just too much for an ADD brain. Her teacher is great and really makes science come to life, but for an ADD kid, the way that she structures her class is brutal. It’s been an awesome on-going science project. Who knew that they actually do science projects in a middle school science class?

Let’s see. The Scientific Method at work:

1 Ask a question – Does Abigail have ADHD?
2 Do background research – Abigail is normally a straight A student.
3 Construct a Hypothesis – It would be unlikely that Abigail has ADHD given the facts.
4 Test your hypothesis by doing an experiment – Give Abigail a Science Teacher who assigns 6 projects per nine weeks and does very little to communicate with the parents or make sure that Abigail stays on task. See how she does.
5 Analyze your data and draw a conclusion – Abigail failed science yet still received either A’s or B’s in all of her more structured classes, therefore she probably does have ADHD or just hates science.
6 Communicate your results – That would be this blog post. Do you think I should e-mail it to the teacher? She would be so proud that real science was actually taking place. She might even use it for future class projects.

So, imagine our surprise when Abigail came home the same day as receiving her F all excited about her Galileo project. She was so excited to not just research Galileo but to dress up like him. She did awesome, huh? She got really creative and insisted on dragging out the Santa costume box. Of course it was at the bottom of the stack of moving boxes, but at her stubborn request we re-shifted the whole room to discover the needed beard and wig. Then she told us not to come to her presentation. I think she was trying to keep us away from her science teacher.

Well imagine our surprise when reading this in the newspaper article this afternoon: (Amongst our first failing grade ever, the irony is just a little too much)

Sixth-grader Abigail Gold donned a white wig and beard as she depicted famed early astronomer Galileo for the Living Space History Museum exhibit.

She and other students selected a person in history who had an impact on the space program, designed posters, dressed in period and gave oral presentations on their historical figures. 

Abigail said Thursday’s event shows science and math can be fun.

“I’ve always wanted to be a scientist,” she said. “A lot (of kids) think it’s boring, but it’s my favorite subject.”

When Abigail got done reading aloud about herself in the article, Sophia quickly chimed in:

“Abigail what it really should have said is ‘but it’s my favorite subject’, even if I did fail the last nine weeks.”

What I was thinking was that it’s a good thing that God gave Abigail such a bright mind because if anyone is ever gonna figure out how to beat ADHD permanently, it’s her. She has a love for science that I have rarely seen, even if it’s a failing kind of love.

Speak up Sophia.

Sophia is our quiet child. She is our low maintenance child. I am always worried that I am not giving her enough attention because to be quite honest, in a crazy house like mine, she is a breathe of fresh air. She is so easy to raise. I would never make the mistake of calling her perfect because nobody is perfect, but as far as being her mom, she is really really easy. She doesn’t require much but some food and water. Heck, she is lower maintenance than our dog. She is definitely quieter than our dog. She rarely barks. She noticed her picture and came over to read what I was writing. She says, “I do not bark.”

Well, I’ve blogged before about a big oops with Sophia. These slip ups seem to be happening more regularly. Just the other day I found myself at Walgreen’s purchasing lemon heads and chocolate ice-cream to say I was sorry for missing her school program. My husband was having a crisis and his brother stopped in on his way through town to say good-bye before we moved. With all the drama, I totally spaced that I was supposed to go to her day program to make up for the night before when I was at Abigail’s school program that took place at the exact same time. I don’t know how single moms do it; my hubby and I have to divide and conquer all too often. Well, I cried to Sophia, apologized profusely, promised to watch the video, and cautioned her that she may as well learn now that nobody is perfect and she is gonna be let down. I told her that there was only one person that would never let her down. And she said that she knew that. I said, “Well, who then?” She replied, “Jesus Christ.” Very good. I am not totally failing as a parent.

Unless you count what happened at church couple of weeks back. Sophia was assigned to give a talk to the other kids. I totally forgot. In my defense, I told Sophia on Saturday to remind me that evening and she forgot too. On the way to church on Sunday morning, I told Sophia we would just tell her leaders that we forgot or the other option was for Sophia to find a scripture to share during the first hour and just give a brief testimonial about it. Well guess what? In between the drive to church and the hour after the first meeting got out, I forgot again.

So, you can imagine my surprise when Sophia comes up to me after the three hours of church and tells me she was so embarrassed for her talk. Hard slapped open face palm to forehead kind of moment. And then I may as well have slapped myself across the face too for being such an awful mom. I apologized and asked her what she did. She said she just got up and talked and that Daddy had come to watch. What? Why didn’t daddy rescue her? They didn’t come and get me because I was teaching the women’s class, but they did go and fetch LG from the man’s class. He, of course, had no idea about all of the above on-goings and walked into the Primary room figuring that I had taken care of it.

As we talked about it on the way home from church, LG was a doting father. He said that she pulled it off rather well. She pretty much just rambled about how she knows the Bible to be the true word of God. (I would say that has to count for something that she even knew on her own to talk about such a serious topic). LG then went on: She then clammed up and got quiet. She turned her head to the side and whispered to the Primary leader, “I am so embarrassed.” The kids heard. They chuckled. It lightened the moment, and she was able to finish it out.

Sophia had succeeded in filling her alloted time. LG was proud. The primary children had been entertained. The primary leader had been fooled into thinking that Sophia was overcome by the Spirit of God, but just for a second until Sophia proclaimed her embarrassment. I was left once again hoping to improve as a mother, but overall I count it a success. Mostly because our whole family laughed consistently for an hour after church while Sophia retold the experience over and over again.

I am pretty sure that the next time she has a talk, she won’t forget to remind me to help her. Or and this is a big OR the next time Sophia will tell her Primary President she dropped the ball OR the girl is gonna get pretty good at winging it. It’s not like we haven’t given her plenty of opportunity for practice.

Tennessee Bridge
Please excuse my boo-hooing. This is going to be a very sentimental post.

I’m already crying and I haven’t even started writing yet. I’m a mess.

When my father in law e-mailed this photo, he had appropriately named it “looking west”.
 Maybe I should also get him to send me the other side entitled “looking east”
 as I am sure there will always be a part of me that will do both.

In 2003, LG and I, with our three little daughters crossed over this bridge for the first time as a family. The girls were so young: 4,2, and newborn. We had come across the country for law-school and Grandma Gold’s empty house was a perfect place for us to crash while we house hunted (an hour and a half away) in Knoxville. It was two doors down from my in-laws, which is about a mile beyond this bridge. We didn’t know it at the time, but we started a tradition. It had been a long trip, where we learned all sorts of car sanity games. We challenged Abigail to a Tennessee Bridge off. She must suck in all the air support she could and holler “Tennessee Bridge” as we drove over. She should not stop hollering until we safely reached the side closer to grammy’s house.

Well, here we are, almost eight years later. LG’s employment is going to drag us back to where we came from. We can’t complain. It’s a great job. We love Utah and we know it’s what God wants us to do, but it is very emotional…especially for a big sap like me.
My mother in law just posted a picture of the bridge on facebook and said they are closing it down. They have built a bigger and better bridge off  to the other side. All I can do is cry. And reminisce. And scream, “Nothing can be bigger or better.”
So many trips and holler contests are flying through my brain. Abigail is 4, then 5 then 11, ever increasing in volume and intensity. Sophia was 2 and couldn’t quite pronounce the words, but still hollered right along with her sister and now she quite possible has some of the best breathe control. Bella was probably just crying that first trip across, but her volume was likely as loud as it is today, even though the words now come out loud and clear: TENNESSEEEEE BRRRIIIIIIIDDDDDDGGGGE. 
Sometimes the girls were in soccer uniforms or church dresses. Sometimes the car was loaded down with winter gear and Christmas presents. Or food that we didn’t want to go bad in our fridge at home. Sometimes we had a cat with us and a dog. But never both the cat or the dog. Thank goodness. Sometimes they were in bathing suits and we may have even had the occasional birthday suit in there. I can smell the homemade loaves of bread that Faye sent home with us and the Thanksgiving leftovers. I am blinded by the black of most of the nights when we were headed back home while I calculated which caffeinated soda I would purchase at the corner gas station just beyond the bridge. The kids would already be falling asleep and wouldn’t even notice the bridge.
LG and I got really good at driving across that bridge super slow while the kids’ faces turned bright red and finally gave in to the need for oxygen. A parent has to do what they have to do for the occasional win. We would have to remind ourselves not to slow down if it was at night and the girls weren’t paying attention. The girls have now turned their attention to teaching baby Caroline the tradition.
I am not sure how many times LG told me of his trips to the little market close to the bridge while we drove by. “I always got my gas there when I was a teenager.” “Dad and I used to stop there for worms when we would go fishing.” “We used to drive our bikes down here when we were kids”, to which I would reply, “Are you kidding me? This highway is frightening.” The response would always follow, “Yeah Alice, I’ve told you a million times, we would take the back-roads; they are so much safer.” I would laugh inside because I don’t think that there are really any safe back-roads in the whole state of Tennessee; I have personally puked while trying them out in the car. That’s when I started driving everywhere so I could avoid car sickness.
But back to the bridge. They are tearing it down. They are tearing down a piece of our family. And I can’t stop crying, but I guess it is kind of fitting since we have to move forward. We can’t stay here forever.But even if we aren’t going to be Tennessee residents and even if we aren’t going to get to visit grammy and papa as often, we now know that at least a piece of each of our hearts will forever be floating down the great Holston River. I think I can hear it as it faintly rolls along to the tune of Tenneeesssssseeeee Briiiddddgee.
wah wah wah.

Dr. Seuss Day

As many of you know, March 2nd is officially Dr. Seuss Day. Our school decided to celebrate a little bit later. Today the kids had the option to dress up like a Seuss character.

I will be the first to admit that I was so happy when they confided in me that they didn’t want to dress up.

“It’s not worth it. It’s too much work”, they said.

I was happy counting my fortune and then changed gears and wondered if it wasn’t too late to convince them to participate. I started to worry if I was teaching my kids to be lackadaisical. All sorts of things started flying through my mind: chore charts, money lessons, bribing techniques, desperate measures, and many other memories associated with teaching the kids to work.

I quickly snapped out of it. Should it really be a life crisis that my kids don’t want to do an optional dress up for school? It’s not like they’ve never dressed up before.

I quickly googled the master himself to see if any of his writings would back me up:

“Be who you are and say what you feel,
 because those who mind don’t matter
and those who matter don’t mind.”

I don’t care if the kids dress up and I am pretty sure that the people at school who may think it matters, really won’t mind if my kids don’t participate.

And just that fast I felt free.
It didn’t require going here or there.
Or eating green eggs or ham.
Or counting fish.
Or dressing up a cat in a hat.

It just required this mom to let go of her own issues to give her kids some space to underachieve.

If you want to read something funnier about Dr. Seuss that is slightly inappropriate for children (wink wink) go here. You will laugh.

Hiking with Maria
This is Maria.
Maria loves to hike.
She also loves our family,
even though she has threatened to never speak to us again
since we are moving to Utah, and leaving her beloved Tennessee.
Yesterday
we called Maria,
so she could take us to one of her favorite local trails.
She said it was kind of steep,
but I convinced her we could do it.
We headed to House Mountain.
Where the only trail condition is steep.
We all wore out our calves packing 30 pound Caroline.
Maria tried really hard to get a nice family photo for us.

I think she did a pretty good job. Given the incompetency of her models.

I am certain we would have quit before getting to the top without Maria’s help.
Or one of our kids would have fallen off a cliff.

Look she got a great shot. If only LG was looking at the camera this would have been the perfect photo to say goodbye to our life in Tennessee.

Even our dog  loves Maria.

Maria said it all would be worth it
when we got to the top.

I believe she was right.

The Snow Blues
After a month of almost consecutive snow days and Winter Break,
this mom is officially in Cabin Fever mode.
I even pulled out my old gowns as a new point of interest.

I have been in a foul mood.
I am not sure quite why.
It’s a combination of things, I am sure.
The lack of sunshine.
My house being at 60 degrees to conserve cash.
The cooking three meals a day,
EVERY day.
O.k. I’ll be honest:
no breakfast
just lunch dinner and the 4th meal.
The daily routine of
Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, and Cake Boss
should be envious.
(And just for the rest of you moms who are trying to survive
with a Netflix membership
because the remote
to the digital converter went missing ages ago
and you don’t have any real T.V.
the last of those three shows is the winner of
Best Entertaining TV)
And there’s nothing like a really long
run-on sentence to express the true sentiment
of my last month.
I’ve been dreaming of going to Carlos’ Bakery
for a warm lobster tail or crumb cake.
Of course, in my dreams,
I am decked out fashionably
with my hair done, make-up on, and nails brightly painted.
I guess if my mind really had some imagination
I should have been wearing a Miley wig
and some Wizard glasses.
Because that is what the kids would find entertaining.
But, in my dreams,
I am all alone.
Go figure.
And then I sit to blog.
Because maybe it will help me find myself.
Or at least pull me out of this mood.
And I stumble upon this old photo:

and I remember how awesome my kids are.
And how fast they grow.
And then the smell of a poopy diaper
brings me back to my senses.
Just as Caroline goes flying off the bottom of treadmill.
And for the millionth time
with my kids
we laugh.
And I think
it’s too bad
their teachers don’t get to
see them at their best.
And I tell myself
to embrace these snow days.
Because even though the days go by so very slow.
The years fly by.
And, next winter,
if I am lucky
The Tennessee weather God
may bring no snow at all.
But of course,
by then I may be living in South Dakota.
And LG will still be saying,
“Oh, but this is still nothing
compared to the Winter of ’88.”
And I will no longer wonder how my mom survived
with seven children
because I will be longing
for my childhood
in
Southern California.
Where snow days
don’t exist.

What a year.
Posted by Picasa

So, here is your Christmas card.
If you are a diehard,
you can print us out and put us up on your wall
so you can prove to all incomers
that you really do have friends.

This year was the kind
that we didn’t have a professional photo.
We also didn’t want to spend for the
cost of printing and mailing.

To put it lightly,
our family has been tried tremendously.
To put it honestly,
we have walked through hell
and we are hoping that we are on our way back.

It was the kind of year that made me grateful
for a simple family snapshot.
Even if it was
as an afterthought,
and we ended up with a crappy backdrop,
and the sun was in our eyes.

You see
we were on our way to church,
together.

And together
is
huge.
It’s more than anyone can ask for.

This morning
I realized that I wanted a living record
of the end of this year,
as I looked at my daughters
and the love of my life.
We were all in the colors,
black, white, and red.

And I saw that as a great representation
of a very hard year.

We are all
still trying to do the right things.
Together.
And that pretty much sums it up.
God has held us together
in the palm of His hand.

And I am extremely
humbled
and
grateful.
And happy.

I look forward in faith.
Even if the sun has been blinding.
And what better Christmas message is there?

My daughters would not be any more beautiful
with a professional photo to prove it.
My marriage would not be as strong
without the trials and intense work.
My friends would not have reached out to us
in such love
without our pain.
Our gratitude for loving parents
would not be as deep
without the struggle.
And our testimony of a loving God
would not be as intimate.

I think we have every reason
to
rejoice.

Jesus Christ makes all things possible.
He is love and light.
He will blind you
if that is what it takes
to heal you,
to love you,
and
to know you.

And when you get through it,
you will be grateful for a sun so bright.
Even if it hurt temporarily.

Merry Christmas to you.
Especially if the sun is blinding your eyes.

Lesson With a Flair

Abigail has been making dinner on Sunday nights.

I got really stressed about her learning to cook before she goes to college.
I am not sure why since that is at least 7 years away,
but it’s all good since it gets me out of dinner duty on Sunday.
Abigail loves to search the cookbooks for something.
She is completely opposite from me.
I like to cook the same thing over and over again
so I don’t have to refer to a recipe.
Anyway, last Sunday, Abigail found a recipe for
Chicken Catchatore. Or however you spell that.
I have never made it before, how would I know.
We decided to tweak the recipe a bit
because we don’t shop on Sunday
and we didn’t have all the required ingredients.
However we did have ginger.
Abigail wanted to add it.
LG kept saying to add more.
I told him that ginger is really strong
but he wanted more.
We ended up chopping and sauteeing
what Abigail calls
a whole leg of ginger.
About an eighth of a cup.
We fried it up with garlic and onion
and the diced tomatoes
and added some spinach
and then added the leftover Thanksgiving turkey.
And Abigail declared proudly to her sisters
that we would be eating
turkey catchatore with a flair.
I said, “One big flair of ginger,”
as I secretly added some brown sugar and milk
to lighten up the overwhelming ginger.
Abigail and Bella then got into it
about what kind of noodles were being served.
Abigail assured Bella that they were linguine.
Bella argued back, like she had some kind of authority in the matter
knowing full well that Abigail was
the one to fetch the noodles from the box.
Before I knew it, Abigail and Bella were having it out
about noodles.
I then hollered,
“Fine, you are both right
the noodles are NOT linguine,
from now on in our house
they will be called:
‘Love one Another, who gives a crap what kind of noodles they are’ “.
End of story.
As we ate Bella says,
“So we are having
Turkey Ginger Catchatore over ‘Love One Another, who gives a crap kind of noodles they are.”
And Sophia in typical Sophia fashion.
Always with perfect timing
and always keeping the peace
says “with a flair.”
So from now on, our noodles will remain nameless
(don’t they all taste the same anyway)
and anything that has ginger in it
will be with a flair.
And I call that one productive Sabbath.

How to dress up like a cow
We recently took a trip to Chick-Fil-A
for some free chicken.

All you had to do was dress up like a cow.

It was in this setting that I realized,

that moms can try as hard as they want:
they can make costumes
and help coordinate efforts

but, they can
never
even
try to
replace
dad.

LG is such a good sport.
Or he really just likes free chicken.
Nobody got his costume.
Except for this other dad,
standing close by
in his sissy
jersey spots.
He let out a good manly chuckle
at the sight of LeGrand,
being the man that he is.
I think he is going to rethink
his costume next year.
I wonder how many men
will show up as bulls
next time?
But, remember,
you saw it here first.
LeGrand needs all the manly points
he can get
in this household
full of women.
Like our 4 daughters
always say,
“even our cat and dog
are girls.”