The Man who Discovered Cheese

I like gender differences.  You may notice this if you've read me much.  I've met people that are annoyed at gender distinctions.  Some people like to claim that gender differences are merely learned behaviors.  The fact that boys smell their shoes after taking them off, try to belch the alphabet, and chew their breakfast toast into the shapes of guns at the breakfast table are learned behaviors.  Yeah, because my husband does those things - okay maybe he does the shoe thing.  The fact that girls find a way to make people figurines out of every, conceivable thing from popsicle sticks to grapes and play "family" with them - learned behavior.  Right.  What about the fact that we're born anatomically different. Learned behavior?  Obviously not.  How about hormonally different?  Learned behavior?  Not so much.  I once read that an unborn baby boy's brain undergoes a testosterone bath in utero that severs connections between the left and right sides of the brain.  In contrast, baby girls are born with these connections - virtual highways of communication - intact.  These connections are highways between the emotional/creative and logical sides of our brain.  As a result, girls more readily understand the implications of the physical realm on the abstract.  Girls more easily make relational and emotional connections to physical situations than boys.  (Incidentally, the same article claimed that as boys/men mature, these connections rebuild with time and with emotionally taxing experiences to the place where older men are much more sensitive and make connections between right and left brain much more readily.)  My 5 year old son has two older sisters and one younger - girls on both sides of him.  99% of all his playtime is spent with girls.  However, when they are playing house, his character - instead of coming home to his loving family after a hard day of work like they would prefer - "gets blowed up", and Levi (5) takes great delight in this.  Violet (3) will be the first to ask the "blowed up guy" how he's feeling... if he's okay... if he thinks a bandaid would help his blowed-up-edness.  A few minutes ago, Levi and Violet burst through the door, and he announced that he could NOT play with Violet anymore, because she, "let's me win at tag!!"  Well, whether or not she lets him win is debatable, because she is compassionate enough to let him win (which he hates), but she's also 2 years his junior which works in his favor (apparently much to his chagrin).   Levi often hurts himself.  I'm never quite sure if it's his actual body that hurts or if it's mostly his pride.  He comes through the door or down the hallway screaming at the top of his lungs several times a day.  Violet inevitably makes a fast break for the bandaid closet.  She comes running with a box of baindaids, and he screams at her that he doesn't need one of those.  She's in her greatest glory if he actually needs and wants a bandaid.  She's thrilled to open it and apply it herself.  She's dying to nurture something/someone.

We've come to a stage with our kids in which we're finally able to do some things.  Diapers are a thing of the past.  With the exception of Violet, the kids all know how to ride two wheel bikes, and we can go places without diaper bags/sippy cups/bibs.  This brings a mixture of happiness and sadness to me.  I was just old enough to start liking babies, and then I didn't have any anymore.  I lamented last night as we relaxed after the kids went to bed, "I want another baby!"  He smiled and said he said, "Yeah.  Babies are nice," but then he went on to remind me how nice it is to have some freedom with the kids... nice to be in this stage of our lives.  In fact, we've recently become members at both the Shedd Aquarium and the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago now - which is something I used to think only rich people did.  Turns out, if you have more than 3 children, it's the only cost-effective option you have.  It was more expensive to buy individual admissions for us and the children and pay for parking for one day than it was for us to purchase memberships for the year - which include all sorts of perks.  So... looks like we'll have to go to both a lot this year to get the worth out of it, but, hey, our kids are at the age where all we need to go is a couple bottles of water and some sunscreen (and maybe an extra change of clothes for the car)!  Voila... my temporary baby insanity is gone by the wayside.

We're starting to bike ride/hike with the kids a lot lately.  We could all use the exercise, and it's possible for everyone to keep up without needing carried a lot.  Two nights ago, we biked about 5 miles on the local bike trail, and that seemed just right for everyone.  Last night, we decided to stay closer to home, and we biked down our road about a mile and a half.   About a mile and a half from our house are two cool things to see... a creek and an eagle's nest.

(the eagle's next as seen early last Spring)

Last night we checked out the creek.  As we approached it from the south, Austin (15) spied something in the field next to the creek.  It was a

snapping turtle.

It was a little way off the road and down a steep ditch.  He went down to check it out, and the rest of the kids (except Violet) were able to follow him.  Mark wanted Austin to pick up the turtle and bring it over for Violet to see it.  Austin looked at him doubtfully, and Mark said, "If you just pick him up by the back sides of his shell, he can't hurt you.  Go ahead!"  I said, "Um, I'm not so sure about that."  He urged Austin on, and, after a bit of taunting, Austin reached down and grabbed the sides of its shell.  I'm not sure what happened next, because it happened so fast, but either the turtle jumped or Austin jumped or they both jumped.  It hissed, snapped, and Austin dropped it like a hot potato.  His heart undoubtedly in his throat, he glared at Mark, and Mark laughed hysterically.  Austin then began to taunt Mark to get him to come down and try it too.   Mark and I took Violet down to check it out, and Mark decided (after a little begging from his wife) that he would try to keep all his fingers.  (Incidentally, this is another male-thing, I find: the taunting-into-doing-something-dangerous thing.  I can scarce imagine myself saying to my girls, "I dare you to poke that hornet's nest," or "I bet you can't jump this ravine on the four-wheeler."  I am thankfully inclined to consider the possible consequences.  My guys seem to get a high off of daring each other to do the ill-advised.)  The boys poked at the turtle a bit with a corn stalk, and it snapped off the stalks in its mouth.  Violet also took a stick and touched its shell, and it turned around and hissed at her.

All-in-all, it was a pretty fun lesson about snappers.  It reminded me of a few years ago.  When we lived in town, Mark had taken the older kids down to the river, and they'd returned home with a cute, little, unique-looking turtle.  It looked like one of these little guys.

Turns out, he had told the kids they could keep it.  Turns out it was a baby alligator snapping turtle.  Upon further investigation into what it would require for care, we decided that, in order to give "Snappy" a good home, we would need to plan to live about 100 years, have a large bathtub we did not intend to use, supply him with an almost unlimited supply of raw fish, amphibians, and reptiles for food, be personally resistant to salmonella infection, and have fingers that are impervious to being bitten off.  "Snappy" was returned to his home at the river, because "his mommy and daddy were missing him".

Okay, so back to the bike ride.  Our road is great for biking - when you're going away from the house.  When you're coming toward the house, on the other hand, it's a steady, uphill climb for about the last 1/4 mile... all the way till we get home.  I made a deal with Claire (8) that if she didn't stop the whole way up the last incline stretch I wouldn't either.  So we biked, without stopping, up the incline.  About halfway up the hill, I inhaled a bug of some sort.  Some people might have found this daunting.  I, on the other hand, was grateful for the distraction.  All the hacking and spitting while I was biking took my mind off the burning in my legs and lungs.  I was up the hill and home before I knew it.  We made it up the hill - no problem - and realized that, although we'd biked farther the night before, we got a better workout last night.

Last night at supper we had some Caesar salad - which has Parmesan cheese.  We somehow got on the subject of cheese, and the girls and I decided that it had to have been discovered by a man.  What woman would smell something and say, "Hmmm... this smells like my shoes.  I bet it's delicious."  Sadie (11) is OCD about her food.  She likes me to ensure the quality of her food before she tastes it.  She wants to know that it's not nearing expiration, does not contain any foreign material, and will not disappoint.  Well, last year we had garden broccoli, and it gets these tiny, green worms in it.  I washed and scrubbed, and yet she found a microscopic green worm.  This has ruined her trust in my ability to inspect food; so she does it herself.  A few weeks ago, there was a question as to when the next home school field trip was.  When I said the date, she piped up, "That's the same day the sour cream expires - and the corn chips I think."  She memorizes expiration dates.  I defy them.  Yet, she is my daughter.

Mark and I divide duties around here.  He does "man stuff".  I do "woman stuff".  Sometimes he crosses over to doing dishes, laundry, etc. (what we consider "woman stuff), but he never lets me do man stuff.  "Man stuff" by definition 'round these parts is taking out trash, mowing lawn, shoveling snow, etc.  Now, I don't have trouble doing these things.  In fact, in my first marriage, I did it all.  I mowed.  I took out trash.  I maintained vehicles.  I shoveled snow.  Even when I was 9 months pregnant, you could have seen me doing any of these things.  However, since I married Mark, I've not even been schooled on the new lawn mower.  He simply says, "You have a husband and two sons.  You should never need to mow."  Do I want to do these things?  Sometimes, but mostly I have enough other things to do to keep me plenty busy.  Mark is great at man stuff.  He can fix (or learn to fix) anything I can imagine.  Before I notice some thing's in need of repair, he's ordered the part to fix it.  Last week, he took a scooter that I'd run over with the van, and he cut a piece of wood to fix it.

Leviolet helping dad fix the scooter

I don’t know what you notice about this photo, but what I noticed in all of the photos I took of this project was that Levi was looking up at him like his dad was the god of scooter repair.   It reminded me of this photo of Levi and Mark when Levi was first learning to smile.  Mark could get him to smile better than anyone else. 

Mark's a great dad... to all of our kids.

the day Levi was born

Mark with Claire

parasailing with Austin

Levi smooches

Violet smooches

But then he doesn't get it from anywhere strange...

my father-in-law snuggling Violet

I feel blessed that He loves our children and treats them with so much tenderness.  When he acts like a man, it makes me feel more feminine.  I can't count how many times he's thought I was sleeping, and I felt him pulling the blankets up to my chin.  He never leaves for work in the morning without tucking blankets around me and kissing me.  When he provides tenderly for me, it doesn't repulse me and make me want to take charge.  It envelops me in love and makes me want to be more lovable.  I am glad that our sons have a good role model.  For their sakes, I hope there are some women left who want to be taken care of someday, because they'll do just that.

Levi giving Austin baby kisses

Austin and brother

Daddy and Levi loving on their babies

Levi pushing Violet around

Austin and Levi riding a hog

Levi posing with Violet

Levi "doing school" with Austin

brothers watching a movie

brothers in front of Grandpa's love boat

Last fall, when Austin was taking driver's ed, I took him to his class 2-3 times/week.  His teacher was a middle-aged man - very gregarious and somewhat on the flirtatious side.  A few of the times when I would pick him up from class, the teacher would say, "Wow!  You look too young to be Austin's mom," or "You're in such good shape to have so many kids!"  Although this obvious flattery was somewhat nice to hear, to some degree, it was creepy.  (For the record, for Austin to have been my biological son, I would have been just barely 18 when he was born.)  On the last night of driver's ed, I took all the kids with me to pick him up.  I got out of the car to thank his teacher... shook the teacher's hand, at which point his teacher pointed out again how he couldn't believe I had so many children, and then his driver's ed teacher hugged me.  Levi immediately piped up from the back seat, "WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING MY MOM?!"  Classic.  That doesn't even touch the time Austin followed a random stranger out of Menard's to confront him about whistling and making a remark at me in Menard's.  They're blessedly honest and fiercely protective.

I believe in creation.  I believe there's a God.  Because I believe these things, I believe the differences between male and female are not just coincidental or cultural or learned.  I believe He intended these differences to somewhat define us.  Don't get me wrong.  I know men that are killer chefs/cooks and crafters.  I know women who can hunt and/or fish with the best of the men and clean the kill afterward (and my mom is one of those women).  However, I realized a few things as I was sitting in church last Sunday.  Some of the kids snuggling up around me - especially Levi.  He kept laying his head on my chest and sighing long - at rest.  I told Mark on the way home, "Women are built with pillows.  When we're grandmas we have even more pillows.  Isn't that great?"  I am starting to appreciate my female "cushion" more lately.  I used to hate any extra padding.  As women we're told that we should work our butts off (literally) in order to lose our fat and look less cushiony.  I joke that I used to pray for dimples, because I thought they were so cute, but that I should have been more specific, because God finally gave them to me but in all the wrong places.  My kids seem to appreciate my cushion.  I can remember snuggling up next to my grandmas and appreciating their extra padding.  We are built for nurturing.  If we choose not to do it, it's denying what we were built to do.

The other thing I noticed in church - that we are all born to worship.  From the earliest civilizations on record, people all over the world built temples, idols, shrines, towers, and altars - places of worship to their god(s)/goddesses.  These days, worship looks more like grabbing the latest People Magazine to see what is happening with the "beautiful people" or raising your hands/lighters, etc. at a concert, or putting money, time, and effort into a person or people or group or cause.  Humanism as a religion, it turns out, started with the Greeks - who made superhuman statues and paintings of humans that were so perfect they were called "gods".  Humanism is also the most popular religion of humanity today.  "I elevate me.  I am the most important person I know."  We were born worshipers.  We automatically assign worth to everything/everyone around us... admiring and adoring those things to which we assign high worth.  We all instinctively know that there is something/Someone of higher worth and value than ourselves.  All we have to do is look around to realize that something/Someone infinitely smarter than we formed what we see around us.

The dictionary definition of worship is "the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity (God or ancestor)".  The words lack when compared to the acts of worship that people are capable of when confronted with the God who created us.  Beyond reverence or even adoration there is worship:  what we were created to do - who we were created to be.  There is beauty when fulfilling the purposes for which one was created.  Can things be used in ways other than their intended function?  Yes, but it's kind of depressing.  I could use a pen to clean out my ears, but wouldn't it be better used in writing a sonnet?   I could use a piano as a display shelf for knicknacks, but wouldn't it be better used in playing Debussy's Claire de Lune?  I could use me to be brash, manly, and serve only myself, or I could try to fulfill my Creator's purpose for me.