the inverse effects of praise

While preparing my lessons for the Beehives, I often check out some online resources, such as beginningsnew (website founded/run by a friend's sister who is a YWP - not that this makes her an expert, but I seem to have a similar way of looking at things as she does). There was a link on the side that led me to a rediscovery of some studies done on praise.

It seems logical and helpful to tell our kids that they are smart, in order to help foster a healthy self esteem and to help teach them that they can do whatever they set their minds to. In actuality, much research shows that praising EFFORT over ability is actually crucial. I've never been a big fan of psychological research. In mulling this over last night, it finally struck me that it's not psychological studies per se that cook my goose, it's poorly designed research in general that drives me bananas. I just have a stronger association between psych studies and poor design for some reason. So, I've been trying to be more open minded.

The studies referenced in this NY Mag article conducted by Carol Dweck totally intrigue me. Briefly, in one experiment, students were given ONE LINE of praise following a simple puzzle test. When they completed the task they were either told they 'must be really smart' or that they 'must have worked really hard.' When given the choice of a second test and told that one was easier, but that the other would teach them a lot, the majority of 'smart' kids chose the easy one, and 90% of the 'good effort' kids chose the harder one. Kids praised for their intelligence are more afraid of failing or looking bad - exactly opposite the effect parents are shooting for when by TELLING their kids that they're smart.

The entire article was fascinating to me, in particular the conclusion. After doing a significant amount of research, the author took a step back and looked at how she treated her 5 year old. The old adage 'Try, try again' seemed too trite, until she came across some research about persistence. There is an unconscious neural circuit in the brain that is activated when a reward is not immediate. This circuit is formed by intermittent rewards - if a subject is rewarded too frequently, they'll (a rat in this case, but people too) give up when the rewards stop. The author discovered that praising her son was a way of expressing her love for him, a way of playing catch-up for all the hours she wasn't with him during the day. HE didn't need the praise as much as she needed to give it.

This article just reminded me AGAIN of the real power of words. When Katie first started doing puzzles, I would say 'WOW! You're really clever!' when she'd figure out something that I thought was beyond her age. Of course, since I'm her mom and she's the first, I naturally think she's a genius to begin with - there is just a small amount of inherent bias here. Then I ended up with a two year old running around saying 'I sure am a clever girl.' Not that she isn't, but it's something she needs to figure out and know for herself.

The original article that sent me to the NY Mag article also has gotten my noodle cooking a ton, more in terms of the Beehives I teach. Girls/women are often told that they are 'special' and that they are 'naturally more in tune with the Spirit.' Never mind right now why that is, or whether or not that is true, but it has far-reaching consequences. A few - like probably 10 by now - years ago, a RS teacher made some statement to the effect of: 'RS is just more touchy-feely than Elder's Quorum' - with the implication being that RS is 'doctrinally light.' My friend Kari and I - sitting on opposite sides of the chapel (where the lesson was being taught) - in the same instant yelled out 'NO!' I think that silly attitude is used by a lot of girls as an excuse for not studying/figuring things out for themselves. Just as telling your child that she's smart is well-intentioned, I think that telling girls that they are naturally more spiritual - equally well-intentioned - can actually be an obstacle for them in learning how God talks to them individually. If an answer to a prayer doesn't come readily, then it must be because there is something wrong with them. How do you help someone understand patience and persistence and WORK if they think that they are just magically supposed to succeed? How do I in 30 minutes (max!) of class time a week help pound home the need for constant, consistant effort to figure things out for themselves? And sometimes it's going to be HARD!

So today, we ended up talking about how to stand up for others - including ourselves - by saying NO to things that are not OK for us. That being assertive is not the same as being rude. And in the background of my head I've been trying to figure out how to help a 12 year old understand that having a boyfriend 'because he's hot' is not the greatest reason in the world . . .

adventure time

Today we went to the zoo again - our first time since January, since it got warm for real. Our nice quiet private zoo of the winter is gone. Today's zoo was populated with school field trips galore along with a million other people. I've gotten spoiled parking right at the entrance; today we parked at Colorado Blvd. Literally. In order to deal with the crowds, which I am rarely a fan of, I made a little list of why today's zoo trip rocked.

• Having a membership. Psycho Kat can keep it in check and not have to see EVERY animal each trip, because we'll be back. To get an idea of how I USED to be, just ask Roger how many museums we visited during the course of a 3 day stay in DC about 8 years ago!


• We got to see a bunch of animals that have been hiding on other visits. A bunch of different cats were really active - the cheetah was even growling! - the little white fox by the polar bears finally stuck his head out, and the river otter put on a nice water show and hung out in his little glass-walled den for our viewing pleasure.


• Iron bladder Katie. I've been a little afraid of how we're going to handle the bodily functions with my posse on our adventures, but girlfriend held it for after 5 hours and didn't need to go until we got home. And then she went 3 times in 30 minutes once we WERE at home, because she didn't want to have a rest. Showing that she is also a regular 3 year old.


• One good thing about the increase in people is the excellent people watching opportunities. One of my favorites was the guy in the Harley wife-beater t-shirt walking hand in hand with his close-to-teen-aged son. Very cute.
  
  
  


• The merry-go-round. Katie started talking about this as soon as we got in the car to head out. She stayed just as excited during our walk around the animals. I liked how Alex has no problem climbing things that SHOULD frighten him, going down the slide or things that move freak him out. You can't get the full flavor from the picture, but while Katie was grinning the whole time and just having a ball riding the non-moving rhinoceros, Alex was gripping my arm and sitting stone faced during the entire ride.





• Messiest ice cream cones EVER! We grabbed some cones for the hike back to the car after the merry-go-round. Alex is the world's greatest ice cream cone eater. The chocolate/vanilla swirl looked great running down his face and arms, all over his shirt, and even puddled on his shoe. Alex got to ride home with his shirt off.


• Loosing count of the number of people who made a variety of comments on the theme of Gee, you must be busy!' The winner for most irony goes to the woman pulling a train of 2 year old triplets, who said that I must be busy. On the ride home I kept thinking what a bunch of tools these people were, and then it struck me, I probably actually AM busier than when I was in grad school. Of course, I was a total slacker student. :)
  

daredevil

Alex is secretly a very daring guy. This past month now he's been running an experiment we call 'Does Oma REALLY love me?' In the Reese house, when it came to the flu Dad was in charge of clean up. Mom would run for the hills. Alex has been putting her resolve to the test.

Katie's birthday sleepover turned into 'Alex has the flu at Oma's house.' When I talked to mom first thing in the morning she said 'Alex seems to have a touch of the flu. He probably won't be making it to the Children's Museum.' She assured me that they were OK, and that I could take my time getting up there to pick the kids up. Five minutes later 'Mt. Vesuvius has erupted. GET UP HERE QUICK!' You can ask Roger for the translation of 'I'll be there in a second.'

Last Saturday was even better, however. Oma and Opa joined us for an adventure checking out 'houses on wheels.' Although this past year was a banner year as far as losing astronomical amounts of money goes, we would still like to get an RV sooner than later for family trips. We think we'd actually see our relatives more if we had a place out of their hair we could stay. And since Roger can work remotely, we figure we can just cruise around and park it somewhere for a week or so and have a grand time while he 'works.' But I digress.

Approximately 1 minute before the waitress brought our food at lunch, Alex launched another phase of his experiment all over Oma. If I had had more presence of mind I would have taken a picture. She was - rightly so - absolutely horrified. We're pinning the blame on Alex chugging Oma's raspberry lemonade. Too much acid too quickly. Regardless the cause, I'm really hoping that Alex is done testing the depth of Oma's affection.

Keep in mind that Alex is but one of three participants in the bodily fluid Olympics going on around here. We skipped the lighting of the torch and opening ceremony pageantry, but the games are still going on strong. I only bring this up because I keep thinking the following: To you folks out there who thought that my (former) job requirement of dissecting various types of rodents on occasion was completely disgusting, I shake my head in complete disbelief. I would GLADLY remove the spinal cords of another couple thousand fetal mice than continue this festival of magic that is ongoing at our house.

Luckily everyone is still mostly smiley.

adventures

This year we - me and the mouse in my pocket- have been trying to do at least one 'adventure' a week. Adventure meaning GO SOMEWHERE. Above you see our trip to the Stock Show back in January with Oma. The petting zoo was naturally a huge hit. Luckily we got to walk around trying to decipher poorly marked signs, pushing and dragging a double stroller, in order to find said hungry animals. This adventure also counted as 'exercise more' for mom.





We are still getting our money's worth out of our zoo pass. This winter has been so mild that we've been able to get there about once a month. In January we finally ventured into the Tropical Animal House. The snakes and the alligators were a huge hit.

Sometimes mom gets to go on her own adventures. The pottery-painting joint in town has added other firing projects to their menu of choices. They now fire glass - but only if you use THEIR glass, so I'm fighting the urge to indulge since I have plenty of glass for fusing - and have a silver clay setup. The silver clay could be totally addictive if I were a little more creative. And independently wealthy. Creating something - anything, except for dinner :) - really helps me maintain a little sanity.

one way to make me completely lose my mind

Most of the time, I feel like a reasonably intelligent adult person. I don't use much of my brain on any kind of a regular basis anymore, but when called into action, it usually responds in the proper manner. Sleep deprivation changes the speed at which answers are computed, but the correct answer is usually reached.

EXCEPT at a portrait studio! I lose all ability to think straight. I continually get sucked in by the $9.95 package deal.*

If there were ANY truth in advertising, that fine print would read something like '1% of customers actually walk out of here choosing that package. Surely you're not naive enough to think that you will come anywhere close to this price. You know that you can never choose just one pose. We'll do our best to get your kid to smile, and you'll pay more than you wanted to, but later you'll be OK with it.'

I know I'm not getting out of there spending only 10 bucks. I have some self-awareness. But should it really be a question between pictures and a flat-screen TV?

I really should just invest some time in becoming more proficient with PhotoShop. I recognize, however, that I am NOT a professional photographer, and it is nice to mark each child's growth with a real portrait once a year.growth. What I really need to do is work some 'kat math' on myself. I need to PLAN on spending $500, and when I come in under that, feel great about how much money I 'saved.'

Here is our little 3-yr-old Katie. Trust me when I tell you that she does indeed have teeth. In the presence of pediatricians and photographers, however, she can neither speak nor fully smile. Maybe she was just worn out after a morning of singing and dancing.

irony

I just got called to be the Beehive advisor. This should be an interesting time, since I haven't been in Young Women's since I WAS one. I taught my first lesson on Sunday. Topic? Homemaking. Once I got over my own hyperness about the antiquated stories used as examples in the lesson, it actually turned out pretty well. The girls are all pretty sharp and fun, so I really think it's going to be a good time.

The ironic part? For dinner last night the kids had a 'picnic' in the living room of yogurt and strawberries while watching Sleeping Beauty. Certainly not what Martha would do, but the kids had a blast and the laundry all got done.

anonymity

The social-connection aspects of the internet are very intriguing to me. I have never been a 'chat' room person. It's just not my thing - this probably has something to do with my short attention span. I signed up on Facebook because someone I know - and now don't remember who - sent me some link to something that I needed to be a member to see. There appear to be MILLIONS of applications you can use on there - again, I am lacking the patience to check them out.

The blogging craze is also very interesting to me. I'm sure there are now any number of doctoral theses (for those SOFT sciences, of course) written on the impact blogs have had on social interactions and even on politics and the main-stream media.

I'm intrigued by this medium that has such a potential for good. One example of this to me is the case of the Nielsen family. A popular blogger and her husband were severely injured in a plane crash. Numerous readers and other bloggers banded together and held countless auctions to raise money for their recovery. Tons of money was raised in a very short time. It was very inspiring to me that such a supportive community could exist by means of the internet.

Following the nature of opposition, something that can be so good can also has the potential for ugliness. I'm not generally a big reader of the 'comments' of the blogs that I follow, because I'm mainly interested in what the originally writer had to say, and not so much others' reactions. Sometimes I'll read them for a good laugh. The potential for misunderstanding the written word is pretty high, particularly in this medium where often the reader (I should say of popular blogs) doesn't actually know the writer. Sarcasm is not always easy to detect, and some folks really get in a tizzy about something they didn't understand in the first place.

Lately I've been struck by the cowardice of 'anonymity.' I've read a number of anonymous commenters complain about the narcissism of the blogger to whom they were responding. That just seems obvious - isn't the act of writing a blog in itself narcissistic? Anyone who writes is presuming that someone else out there CARES and actually wants to read what's being said! But how much more narcissistic is it to assume that your COMMENT to a blogger is going to change their behavior? That is just baffling to me. The irony there would certainly be lost to these commenters. If you don't like what someone is writing, or you think they are totally self-absorbed, then QUIT READING! It's even easier than changing the channel on the TV for crying out loud! Just don't type in that URL in the first place. Click away from the page. Spend your precious time doing something else!

More bizarre and simply sad to me is the need to attack someone personally through an anonymous comment. Many people choose to write about their personal struggles or feelings in blogs. Recently a friend wrote about losing a friend of hers to an illness. She expressed heartfelt sorrow at the loss of this friend, and expressed how she makes sense of it. The FIRST comment was from some anonymous coward, self-righteous enough to point out what was WRONG with her and her expression of grief, but too spineless to even sign their name.

I believe the intent of anonymity is to help foster free speech - e.g., you aren't as likely to say what's wrong with your work place if your boss knows you're the one pointing things out. And it is certainly appropriate at times. It just saddens and really angers me when people use it as a shield to hide behind to lob insults.

I'll get off my soapbox now. Imagine how irritated I'd be if I actually ever wrote about anything more controversial than the theme of Katie's birthday cake or the excitement of Alex's first hair cut.

choice

I've been thinking a lot lately about choices, excuses, and balancing all the things I WANT to do along with all the things I SHOULD do. I have a lot of ideas in my head - some useful, some useful probably only for me (which includes my sanity, as well as actual practical applications), many just plain frivolous.

I have been known - a long LONG time ago, very far away in the past - to make excuses for things. 'I would have done XYZ, but I was curing your salmon.' Roger got a lot of backhanded heat. My excuses were pretty much habit - I wasn't consciously trying to blame him, I just had gotten in the habit of not taking responsibility for my own choices. (Just for the record, according to Rog I have made great strides in this area as far as pushing the blame on him goes.)

More recently I had some painting hanging over my head to finish the remodeling in the living room. The door have been built for months, but I didn't get around to painting them. And it was the kids' fault. 'There just isn't a window of time long enough to get it done.' Admittedly, things require more planning to get accomplished now that I have three little helpers. But it's all about asset allocation. I thought this post on CJane Enjoy It explained the 'problem' well. Kari had a good one on this topic too. Yes, children change what I can do in a given time. So sometimes I need to choose to let some things go. Things might not ALL get done, or be done to a different level, but it's still my choice, and it's no one's fault. It's just a choice.

It is certainly more of an adventure to get out the door with 3 in my posse, but it's my choice to get things together and do it, or just be a potato and stay at home and whine about how I can't go anywhere because I have small children.

Thanks to Disney, and Roger, and Oma, and Kat making different choices, the cupboard doors are now painted. The laundry will be done again. The house will be picked up again, and Katie and Alex will detox from their movie overload. Now I guess I have to stop whining about not exercising. And I will need a reminder occasionally that it is a CHOICE to let the glass business rest for a season . . .

In case you're wondering, today's choice is pajamas, Bambi, hot chocolate and laundry.

future katie

At lunch the other day I saw a mother/daughter pair with a resemblance as strong as that between mom and Mag. The girl was probably 14 or 15. She was wearing all black, with the exception of the hot pink tight/black fish net combo on her legs and the pink flamingo purse she was working. I was struck by her because it wasn't even a school day and she was rocking her look, just on an outing to get lunch with her mom. Maybe she was going to cruise the mall afterwards, who knows. I was struck even more by the fact that she was confident enough to work that look, but not enough to tell the Qdoba girl what she wanted on her soft tacos - her mom acted as translator over the glass partition. Interesting.


I got to thinking of 'future Katie' the teenager. What clique will she fall into? Every parent - most particularly moms (but then again my sample group is skewed in that direction) - has different hopes of what group their kid will fit in with as they get older. Mag and I were laughing about how for us, we just hope our kids are smart. Others want their kids to be popular or pretty. I actually really hope Katie ISN'T one of those 'popular girls,' because of all the nonsense that can go along with it. Of course I want her to have good friends, but I don't think having friends and being 'popular' necessarily have anything to do with each other.

What I find most amusing about myself is that right now, I would be totally cool with helping 'future Katie' dye her hair blue or magenta or whatever color she wanted. Sheesh! It's just hair. But PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't try out to be a cheerleader! Be a jock or a nerd instead!

Or at least confident with yourself in whatever you choose.

candy

It's a good thing I took that candy poll, because the only dipped candy I made this year was a SINGLE pan of caramels, which were way too soft, and did not dip well. I'm just telling everyone that it was Mag's maiden voyage of dipping. It appears my digital thermometer is not the miracle invention I had pegged it to be.

I have been working steadily to remove the evidence - a soft caramel might possibly be even more delicious than it's firmer counterpart. Maybe I'll give them another go after I procure my tempering machine. I will for sure be trying the dipped marshmellows. I might even share the results.

rental non-rant

I hesitate to actually state this out loud, but instead of killing us off this month, the rentals are going AMAZINGLY well. In November, our 2 best tenants told us that they would be moving out. One set bought their own place - we're happy for them, but I was also crossing my fingers that their closing wouldn't go through - and the single guy needed more room. The 2 bedroom just wasn't enough space for him and . . . whatever he needs space for. Your guess is as good as mine.

Every other vacancy we've had has taken a month to clean up after the old tenants and then fill with the new ones. A month with no rent. We were faced with a double whammy for December, on top of a potentially very busy Thanksgiving spent doing repairs and painting.

Both tenants left the units spotless and in good repair. All I had to do was get the carpets cleaned. We didn't even have to paint! For both units, the former tenants were out one day, and the new ones could move in the following day. You might be thinking 'whoop-dee-doo. What's the big deal?' I, however, am still in grateful shock.

more max

I've been thinking a lot again about the talk given by Elder Oaks in Conference Oct 2007 titled Good, Better, Best. Briefly, he talks about being conscious of choosing the BEST things for us and our families out of the myriad of good options out there. Whether or not you are 'churchy,' this is still good advice.

Somewhat ironically, I was thinking about this alot right after I had just posted about my new-found infatuation with a video game. Saturday afternoon while Katie and Alex were napping, I just relaxed with Max while he napped. I wrote a little, thought/day dreamed about stained glass projects I'd like to work on but won't for a while, read a little, and thought a lot. David may not believe this, but I didn't even tune into another new-found friend, the "Retro-Active' alternative music channel on the digital cable. And man is that a great music channel!

This is how Max and I spend Saturday afternoon. You can't get the full effect from that picture, but boy does that Max smell delicious. He hadn't even had a bath yet. It's too bad 'smell-o-vision' hasn't been perfected yet, because then you too would want to just gobble that boy up!

Believe me, I totally recognize the need for 'me time' in order to maintain what limited sanity I've got. And stained glass - and a variety of other projects - are part of how I do that - but I have really adjusted the amount of time necessary to stay 'being me' way down. I have been/and will be me for a very long time. These young versions of my kids will not last as long. Alex already looks like he should be driving a car. Katie talks like she's ready to start dictating her first novel. Max is already 30% bigger than when we brought him home. (Thank goodness I don't gain 30% of my weight in a month!)

I'm so grateful that I have the chance to stay home with them, and that I have a partner in molding them that thinks this is important too, and so he makes decisions/WE make decisions together so that that can happen. I'm grateful that Rog is always trying to find ways to spend more time together as a family; that he plays so much with the kids; that he feels a strong need and desire to hug his kids and tell them as well as show them how he feels about them. I love that he takes the time to include Alex and Katie in the 'man-tivities' already - knowing myself how much 'help' they provide sometimes.

That being said, I did have the parents bring up Guitar Hero Sunday night. I do still need to stand a fighting chance against Mark come Christmas! (By the way, Dad/Opa scored 25% and got booed off the stage on that same Poison song. But he did indeed try it!)

This photo is not a very good indicator of the magnificence of this boy's smile - the photographer really needs to work on her lighting choices and 'click' times - but the Max-ster has officially started smiling on purpose. Opa claims he got some real smiles Sunday night, but it wasn't official until he did it for me. He's been smiling in his sleep for weeks, but that's not nearly as gratifying as having him look at your face and flash one at you!

And by the way -thanks to Julie for reminding me - I updated the album to include more pictures. The newest ones are at the end.

time travel

picture from imageshack

Well, Mag was right once again.

While Mag was out here visiting us when Max hatched, she took a night off from ‘baby dancing’ to go down to Denver and hang out with some friends. When she got back she said they had spent a good amount of time playing Rock Band. I had the passing thought ‘What the? Are you guys 14-year-old boys or something?’

Mag, I ask your forgiveness.

Thursday mom came up and watched the kids, so Roger and I dined and then cruised Best Buy. Rog was looking for some boring computer thing for work, when my ears picked out the tones of Billy Idol’s White Wedding off in the distance. So I went a wandering. Rock Band, huh? Well, let’s just see what this is all about. I am no good on the drums. But the guitar? I’M A NATURAL! Roger and I played a few rounds, and would have probably closed the store down but we didn’t want to kill off mom entirely.

Friday night we headed up to Boulder to hang out with Oma and Opa – WRONG! We went up there to play Mark’s GUITAR HERO! When dad got home, he asked what we were up to. Katie’s response: ‘Mom and dad are rockin’ out.’That’s right, Katie. I can still rock.

Roger was going to put Guitar Hero on his wish list, until I KICKED HIS BUTT! Even on some ridiculous song by Poison. POISON! Seriously? Yeah, I nailed it. I just tried the ‘easy’ level, but did try medium on a little Pat Benetar ditty and STILL nailed it! All those years of violin lessons paid off after all. I guess it will have to go on my wish list – maybe when we draw names for the Reese family people will be feeling generous. Or just do a combined present for Roger and I. It’s just a suggestion . . .

NOW who’s the 14 year old boy?

NOW i think i'm ready

A friend of mine has been having a freak out, because after a number of LAME-O boyfriends she's finally dating a great guy, so naturally this freaks her out. Things are going too well, and after years of WANTING to not be dating anymore, the possibility of the next 'phase' of life starting - 'losing independent Kris' (in her mind, she doesn't know yet that you DON'T) - is freaking her out.

I totally relate to this. Rog and I dated for a few years, during which time I often thought WHEN are we going to decide this once and for all? We're going to get married, so what is going on here? Then, when we actually sat down and started working on 'the terms' of our engagement - some people are romantic, others are more logical - I completely freaked and put 'go ring shopping' on hold for a while. That little list item just made things TOO real. Irrational? Maybe. Freak out? Oh yes.

So now that I'm 38 weeks along and seriously look like I'm ready to burst - at least that's what all the kind people I run into everywhere say, verbally or just with their large saucer-sized eyeballs jumping out of their heads - I've been experiencing the freak out. Torn between ready to be done being pregnant, and NOT ready for the process that involves. I'm not so concerned about not sleeping - I'm not usually a huge sleeper, and since Roger's genes dominate and these collaborations of ours start out GIGANTIC (the first two munchkins slept decently - 4-5 hours or so - from the beginning) - I'm banking on this kiddo being equally large, and equally tired from trying to maneuver that massive noggin' he or she is surely sporting. Katie will also probably score many of her dream days of just watching movies back to back to back. At least one child will get to experience her current idea of heaven. If I just let Alex take all the knobs off the amplifier and climb on everything he can see, that number will rise to two.

I think the real cause of the freak out is THE LIST that has been still swimming around in my brain. Which is so close to completion, that now I think it's time for running that marathon or whatever magic works to get this party started. I could still read Colin Powell - and REALLY get fired up about the current lack of leadership that seems to be a defining characteristic of politics these days - but that one can also wait, and I'll be OK.

LIST ITEMS CHECKED OFF LAST WEEK:

Loaded bookshelves. Art, church, biographies, WWII/European history, travel treasures (the maid has resolved to pick up a Swiffer at least once every 6 months). Ahhhh. Looking like we live here again. The amazing Rog finished the doors, so the painter COULD still prime and paint and then it would be totally done, but thankfully the neurosis doesn't run that deep. I will live if I don't get to them for a while.

Food. One pot of marinara, one cooked chicken, a vat of cheese sauce and two days later there are 11 aluminum squares full of pasta dishes in my freezer. Hopefully we will be in the mood. The stuffed shells with cheese sauce is sounding good right now. And if not, Papa Murphy's is just a couple blocks away, and I could probably alternate between the veggie and Mediterranean DElite pizzas every day and be quite satisfied.

Finished Alex' 'first year' book. Digital is so the way to go. On this item, the neurosis ALMOST won. I made the book on Snapfish, because they were 40% off (still are until 9/15). And then looked again - after cursing the lack of layout choices - at Shutterfly, and reconnected with an old friend. Shutterfly rocks for this particular photo project. Tons of layout, background and edge choices. They have decent promotions - just check on Google - and a couple bucks off through 9/24, but even if they didn't it is still the way to go. A MILLION times better. No hyperbole here.

Tiny kimono sweater. Thank you mag and your latest obsession Ravelry.com. This bad boy is now officially done. The new kid will have ONE non-hand-me-down. Had I not almost yakked coming down the mountains it would have been done sooner. (Note for Kat: I still really want that Bavarian hand-carved mirror at the antique store at the top of the hill, I just don't want to pay $800 for it. Go to Germany and find my own. THAT will save me some dough.) I'm not sure on the ties - the pattern used red, but that wasn't working for me. Using the same green just seemed too boring. The sweater and the photo book were really dueling it out there for a few days, but they both ended up coming out on top.

(My Bavarian princess on Sunday, since I got all nostalgic for Germany after checking out that antique shop.)


Batteries. Camera/recorder charged and ready to go. I guess now I can pack for that 10 minute drive.

All I have left to do is dye the gray, so I can keep up my facade of being 25. ;)


Here's a picture of the hardanger for Betsy. Finished size: 13.5 x 29. The linen is something crazy like 30 threads/inch. Might even be smaller.

And by the way: Roger is ready for totally obsessed Kat to take a sabbatical.

technologically NOT totally illiterate!

Grammatically possibly. Rog suggested that it might be easier for folks -family - to receive updates on what we're doing by inserting an email subscription option. I told him that it was his department, being the computer guy, but I decided to see if I have any functioning synapses left at this point in my life. Happily, the answer is YES! After 5 minutes of sweat and hard work, the widget has been added and tested.

So knock yourselves out. Sign up if you'd like, and then you don't have to check back every hour - like I'm sure you do - to see if we've done anything interesting, like hatched another baby.

Today's only adventure thus far was me chewing out a missionary in gospel essentials during my lesson, but maybe we'll save that story for another day. Like the day when I might feel a smidgen of remorse. Don't be holding your breath on that one.

crazy nesting kat

Last night while 'patiently' waiting to fall asleep, I started thinking about my 'things to do before I hatch' list. This thought process brought about the realization that I seem to get more ridiculous with each pregnancy. Roger will of course be shaking his head, thinking 'I could have told you that MONTHS ago had I wanted to sleep outside!'

With Katie, I think my main project was to paint her room, and find a dresser. There MIGHT have been, oh, 600+ bulbs planted that fall, but since I was only 5 months pregnant at the time and made Roger and James do the majority of the digging it doesn't count. I spend a fair amount of time doing 'normal' nesting things like making wee sweaters and booties for the coming princess.

For Alex, we did some pretty serious remodeling - totally redid our bathroom, changed out the fixtures in the other bathroom, got rid of the disgusting carpet (does blue loop carpet really need to exist?) and put in Pergo. The project MIGHT have dragged on longer than a certain pregnant girl had anticipated, making her a little nuts, but overall a pretty easy remodel. One color of paint involved, some cutting of tile, some cutting of boards. And a few more sweaters, fit for a little prince.

This time around, naturally another remodel was necessary. We - meaning Rog, although I am the official wallboard-screwer and first-coat-of mud person - put up a couple of walls to create a third bedroom and two closets. As long as we were doing that, we decided to put in an entertainment center/cupboards/bookshelf unit against the new wall. MAN! There has been no end of painting on this bad boy. I think in the last 6 months every room but the kitchen has gotten some tweaking - at least 50% of the house has been painted. I still have some final touching up to do on the shelves, and then the baseboards and the trim/casings for the doors. I finished a hardanger project because I figured it was now or a year from now, and now I'm remembering a sweater for Alex that I was going to finish for this winter for him. And then I think MAYBE I should actually whip something up for this new baby of his/her own. So what did I work on today? Did I pull out clothes in the appropriate size for the new one? Did I go through patterns and yarn for a new sweater? NO! I spent hours digging out the old lame strawberries in order to transplant the larger variety and expand the blackberry patch.

While I was doing this - thanks to Mary Poppins before lunch and a plethora of worms and grasshoppers after lunch to entertain the troops (I hope Alex didn't eat TOO many of them; guess we'll find out later!) - I was thinking what it would be like to just hire a couple of guys for a day and have THEM do this little project. They would knock it out in probably half a day and I could just supervise and be bossy and munch on my bon bons, as we stay-at-home moms usually do. Then I got to thinking about how grateful I am that I CAN go dig around in the dirt. I might be Shamu and BEYOND slow at this point, but things just take longer. I can still do them myself. As much as I like the IDEA of someone else doing it, I'm very glad that I am physically able to do pretty much what I want. Even in this enlarged condition.

We'll see if I have the same opinion tomorrow when my back weighs in . . .

adventures in babysitting

Well, I have finally entered the world of hiring a babysitter. Yes, it is long past time - sheesh, Katie is 2.5 yrs old already! We are totally spoiled, and we know it and totally appreciate it.

Since Oma and Opa live 30 minutes away, we have until this point gone out when they were available to watch the kids. This spoiling includes the occasional sleepover as well - which most times have been used to work on remodeling projects, as opposed to sleeping in or jetting off to exotic locations, but yes, we are spoiled and we know it.

Thursday we went to the dinner theater WITH my parents, necessitating the actual hiring of a teenager for the evening.

I was a horrible babysitter in my day. I skipped pages while reading bed time stories so that they would end sooner. I put the kids to bed as quickly as possible. I was NOT interested in playing with the kids - just making my (on a good night) whopping $1 an hour. My goal was to get the kids in bed as quickly/painlessly as possible so I could study or watch TV. And I HATED the places that didn't have anything good to nosh on. I didn't mind watching the kid across the street so much because he was an only child, and his mom would actually pay for me to take him to the movies from time to time. Free movie AND $1/hour! What a deal!

My cousin Ralin was an awesome babysitter. I went with her once on one of our family trips to Utah, and I was amazed. She played with the kids. She even seemed to like them! When the kids were in bed, then she REALLY got to work - the kitchen was cleaner than when we came! The house was spotless when she was finished. This was a whole new concept for me.

I, now being on the other side, want a teenager in my neighborhood like my cousin! I understand that I'm asking a lot here. In the negative column: two small fry, both in diapers, so they both have to actually be watched AND entertained and changed on occasion. On the positive side: early bed times, easily distracted, WAY easy to skip pages with if necessary. :) Also on the plus side, we have lots of ice cream, candy and Izze laying around. Should cover even a sitter as bad as I was.

Now, what does one pay for such service these days? I don't have a clue. I went with $5/hour. This for two kids who had already been fed, who were changed right before we left, and who went to bed 2 hours after we left. For the next 3 hours the gal got to hang out. She was not Ralin, but the house was still standing when we got home. Hopefully the pot was sweet enough that she'll be willing to come back.

super rog vs. the evil repairman

(Thanks to Julie for doctoring up the picture for me!)

Mom's washer had some problem a few months back. The repairman came out and replaced the 'bearings.'

Another month goes by, and the washer is acting up again. This time the repairman says that the motor is shot and will cost $300-400 to fix. So, Carol upgrades to this little front-loading beauty - just the washer.

Roger was naturally intrigued. I mean, her previous washer was a Maytag. Aren't those babies supposed to last forever? And this one was only like 10 years old. His favorite kind of puzzle to solve. He poked around online and found that new motors are $125. Once he started tinkering around with it, he ended up just taking apart the transmission, greasing everything up like crazy, and putting it back together. Cost of repair: $0.

Aside from tooting Roger's 'man skills horn', this little adventure reminds me of how maybe repairmen are actually LOWEST on the 'slime list' of professions, even after realtors and lawyers - poke poke. In college, I quickly learned to take a boy along with me anytime i needed to talk to a mechanic about my VW bug, and preferably a tall one. One of these trips was particularly memorable, because I hadn't taken a boy to the FIRST mechanic. A nice tall specimen accompanied me for the second opinion - a guy who know NOTHING about cars, while by then I had a decent knowledge of how the Bug ran, just not the tools or inclination to fix it myself. The mechanic addressed his entire conversation to my friend, while I was the person answering his questions and detailing the problem. The estimate was about $1000 less than opinion #1 and did indeed fix the problem.

Since hooking up with the Rog, particularly AFTER he became convinced the Saab is indeed a fun car, I've not had to deal with mechanics. I did go to have my tires rotated once, and the guy told me I needed to replace all 4. I smelled a rat, and sent Roger back to the exact same tire store, and they rotated the tires without any fuss - or attempts at convincing him that he was risking his life every centimeter he drove further on those tires - at all. ARGH.

So what's the deal with repairmen/mechanics? Did mom's repair guy make a good faith mistake, or did he just not want to flip the washer over to get at the transmission. Did he decide the repair required was just not worth an hour of his time, or did he honestly think it was the motor - which is located in the FRONT of the machine, by the way, and which I could probably even change out without too much trouble (assuming the wires are the same colors as the existing one).

Do they get away with it because it's just not worth a lawyer's time to go after the $500-1000 difference between reality their 'estimate?' And how would you even prove your case in small claims court? So, most people just suck it up and take it, generally not having a method of recourse. Aside from hoping for an HONEST repairman the next time . . .

what's in a name?

I think now that August has hit it's fair to say the countdown is on. I have maybe 6 more weeks to go before hatching, and STILL we are almost totally blank as to what to name this mystery baby.

A friend of mine just had a baby boy, and she and her husband are at a total impasse as to his name. He'd like to name their baby after his brother, who committed suicide last year. She does not have the same rosy memories of this brother from childhood, and so primarily associates that name with the sad end of his life. And so the debate continues . . .

How much does a name affect a child's life? It's amazing all the criteria that come into play when choosing a name. Instinctively I think most parents want it to be 'cool' or 'unique' or something this new little person can feel proud of or inspired to live up to.

'How about naming the baby X?'
'Nope. That's the same name as a: former boyfriend, girlfriend, friend who went bad, loser in school, poorly made automobile, lesser State of the Union, city with high crime rate, etc.'

And OF COURSE you have to check for potential rhymes, to try and preempt and hopefully eliminate future school yard nicknames.

Katie and Alexander are both named after specific people, for specific reasons. #3 is giving us - probably mostly MOI - fits. The few names I'm coming up with that I like I am drawn to just because they sound 'cool,' and not for any other specific reason.

Does a person's name really matter for their future success in life? The authors of Freakonomics would argue no. Previous researchers attempting to measure the perception of different names sent out identical resumes, with either traditionally white names or more immigrant or minority-sounding names. The 'white' resumes always garnered more interviews. However, using regression analysis on data collected from birth certificates in CA from 1961 onward (data included obvious things such as gender, race, birth weight, name of parents and marital status, as well as zip code and method of payment - indicating socio-economic status - and education level) Levitt (Freakonomics, an economist) and Fryer (researcher who studies race) found a different result. (For a brief overview, check out this link from Slate.) While a person with a 'white' name fares better on average economically than one with a 'black' name, this is NOT due to the name itself. 'The kind of parents who name their son Jake don't tend to live in the same neighborhoods or share economic circumstances with the kind of parents who name their son DeShawn.'

The parents, or circumstances of the parents, matter, not the name. So I guess I can go with 'Tongue Depressor,' or 'Magnet,' safe in the knowledge that it's not the name that will mess my child up, but ME! :)

post script: I forgot what fun NAMETRACKER is. Just pop in the name you're curious about, and out pops a chart of popularity for the last century or so. Someone should have checked 'Alexander' and caught that total spike that peaked around 1990. If we can make the nickname transition to Xander before school starts, we'll be ok. :)

'fulfillment'

I've been thinking about this word a lot the past week. A friend of mine came over to help me paint - man, there is no end to painting! - and we talked a bit about 'fulfillment.' Her husband isn't sure she feels 'fulfilled' staying at home with their kids, despite her assurances to him that for her, this is the most important thing she can be doing right now. Not that it doesn't make her crazy at times - she is human after all and not a robot.

I suppose some people are fortunate enough to have found jobs/careers that 'fulfill' them. I have always found that for myself, fulfillment does not come from the outside. That is, I have to take active steps to 'fill Kat.' If I don't, crankiness ensues. If i do, the world is a happier place - at least MY world is. There were two gals in my former lab that talked often of their love of day care. They often dreaded the weekends, because then they would have their kids full time. These were good mothers who loved their kids, but they weren't used to hanging out with them all the time. I've always been curious how much of the 'labeling' of each side (stay-at-home vs. 'working' mom) is a defense mechanism to assuage some of the guilt that each feels about their personal choice, but for these gals stay-at-home mom were bon-bon eating, manicure getting, all-day shopping, super-snotty lazy butts who were too dumb to have 'real jobs.' How could they not carry their weight in society by having a job? How could they possibly be happy just staying at home with their kids?

Needless to say, we did NOT have many conversations about my post-Katie-hatching plans. The PI (boss) left and I conveniently ran out of funding at the same time that I was due, so that gave me an out. To them, I was 'wasting' my education by not going back to work right away (the two gals I'm thinking of in particular were technicians, which means primarily that their job is to carry out the experiments that someone else thinks of and later interprets.) Most interesting to me was the support I got from the new PI of the lab, a fellow Ph.D., who said that he would happily trade working for a few years in order to stay home and raise his new son, and the MD investigator who cut her hours after the birth of her twins so she could spend more time with them.

I understand that it's a personal choice for everyone, but if I was working full-time right now, and let's pretend that I could find a research position with a 30 minute commute, I would see my kids approximately 2.5 hours a day. One hurried hour or so in the morning, trying to get everyone fed and ready and out the door, and about an hour and a half at night, which time wouldbe spent making dinner, trying to get them to eat it, and putting them to bed. That to me is insanity. As a postdoc, the only real extra nonsense I'd have to try and squeeze in would be travel to the occasional conference. As a professor, I'd get to juggle committee meetings, travel, and who knows what else.

Fulfillment? What kind of fun happens in the craziness of getting up and going to bed? Everyone is at their most demanding - myself included. No wonder the lab gals loved day care - if the ENTIRE day was going to be that, who wouldn't want to ship the troops off to let someone else deal with the nonsense. I'm not saying that some days don't FEEL just like that half hour before bed. But even if I was some cutting edge research genius instead of a 'cell poker' studying the effects of low oxygen on lung muscle, how could that make me feel like more of a 'complete' person than watching Katie and Alex have a tea party, or watching how excited they get when they figure something out?

This is not to say that changing a million diapers a day makes me dance around the house singing like Snow White. But for me, working outside my home isn't the answer. Figuring out what DOES energize me and then doing something about it is. That and setting realistic expectations for what I NEED to fill me up. Of course, Dove dark chocolate miniature ice cream bars help too.