For Clara--an update

Well, it's a good thing I don't try to make a living by blogging. We'd have surely starved to death by now. There doesn't seem to be much point in blogging, since we live near our families now, but Clara has been asking me to update the blog, so I figured I may as well.

I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear that a lot has happened since my last post eighteen months ago. Ivy-Jane, for example, is now nineteen months old and walks and causes all sorts of trouble that nobody gets very uspet about because she's adorable. Levi will be three in a few months, and he's still as amazing as ever. He potty trained himself with no trouble whatsoever a few months ago, and he's all boy--much different than the girls.

Levi (Bubba) and Ivy-Jane (Janie Cake)

Violet is going into first grade, and she's missing so many teeth we call her "pumpkin." Gemma is going into second grade and is quite the gymnast.

Violet (Vida) and Gemma (Boo)

Clara is going into fifth grade (!!!) and Tabitha is starting middle school (!!!!!) and, like Gemma, they are also both very good gymnasts.

Tabitha (Taz) and Clara (Lucy)

Juliet, a social butterfly who makes good grades, will be starting seventh grade. Sophia is going into eighth grade and is on track. She's actually very fast.

Juliet (Hoolietta) and Sophia (Fifi, or as Levi calls her, Tortilla)

Eve is still making amazing grades and will be a junior. Zoe is still NOT making amazing grades (although she still has the POTENTIAL, which is worth squat without the grades) and in cheerleading.

Zoe (Reesie) and Eve (Evie Jo)

Kokopelli, the Jack Russell Terror, has actually calmed down a bit, but still enjoys running around the neighborhood when he can escape.

As for Rob and I, we very much regret leaving Florida for Colorado, but here we are. The good news is that I did accomplish my New Year's Resolution from my last post (lose the baby weight), and I now weigh just a few pounds more than I did before I became a mother. :)

Rob and Kyndra

New Years Resolutions

Every New Years Eve we all sit down together and write out our resolutions for the new year after reading our resolutions for the year that just passed. One of my resolutions for 2010 was "Have baby #10." It took all year, but that's one New Years resolution I managed to keep. Hopefully I'll be as successful with this year's resolution: "Lose the baby weight!"

Ivy-Jane's Birth

Ivy-Jane Ann Sheets was born on December 6, 2010 at 5:45 pm. She weighed 8 lbs 9 ozs and was 20" long. She has a full head of dark hair, like Juliet's, and I can't tell if her eyes are going to be blue or green or hazel or brown yet. She has a dimple in each cheek and one in her chin. She's absolutely perfect.

Her birth wasn't so great, though. In fact, it was my worst experience ever. The week before she was born I was super sick with a sinus infection, which landed me overnight in the hospital because all the coughing and sneezing was causing contractions. After going home, I spent the entire week in bed, sick and exhausted and worrying about the amniocentesis the doctor was insisting on doing before the scheduled c-section.

On Monday morning, the day of Ivy-Jane's birth, Rob and I drove an hour and a half to get to the hospital. My amnio was scheduled at 10:30, and I was incredibly nervous. I have to say it wasn't as bad as I expected, but it isn't something I'm willing to do ever again. I still don't understand the need for it, as I was 38 weeks and 4 days at the time. We went to the bookstore where we waited for the results. Finally, about 15 minutes before we were supposed to check into the hospital, the nurse called me to let me know the lungs were mature and the c-section would proceed as scheduled.

The c-section itself was horrific, more so than usual. It started going bad when the nurse insisted on putting the iv into my right hand instead of somewhere on my left arm when I wanted. The epidural was a nightmare, as always, but the anesthesiologist was horrible. After giving the epidural time to take effect, they scraped my belly with somthing and asked if I could feel it. I could. They modified the question: "Does it feel sharp?" It didn't, but I thought it was a bad sign that I could feel it at all, and I was still able to move my feet. No matter--they proceeded with the surgery as the anesthesiologist was talking on his cell phone making plans for the evening. He soon hung up, telling his friend that he was in the middle of a c-section, and began texting instead. At the beginning of the surgery, I could feel more than I should have, but as it continued, it began to really *hurt,* but nobody believed me because I was just the patient. What did I know? After they pulled Ivy-Jane out, the doctor asked the anesthesiologist to knock me out completely because I wouldn't stop screaming every time they touched me. How considerate. The anesthesiologist tore himself away from his texts long enough to knock me out.

I woke up right before they wheeled me into recovery, where I stayed for about two hours, and, for no good reason that I could tell, Ivy-Jane wasn't allowed in. This made no sense to me, either, because with all 7 of my other c-sections, I nursed the baby during recovery. After the two hours was up, I was taken into my room and Ivy-Jane was brought in. Rob, my dad, and Zoe and Eve were there, too. Zoe and Eve wanted to be there when she was born, and they got to spend the time I was in recovery watching her through the nursery window. My dad was busy cooing over the wrong baby in the nursery. Apparently he mistook a baby boy who was half black for Ivy-Jane. The girls said the baby's daddy kept giving Papa strange looks, wondering who that man was admiring his son.

The first thing I asked for in the recovery room was to have the iv moved from my right hand to my left arm, but that didn't happen for many hours. In my room, it was very difficult for me to hold Ivy-Jane, because whenever I moved my right hand, the iv pushed in deeper and was awfully painful. My nurse, who had no bedside manner whatsoever, didn't like the position I was using to nurse Ivy-Jane and kept trying to reposition her. I finally got irritated enough to tell her that I had successfully nursed nine other babies, and I thought I could handle this without her interference. She didn't like me much after that. After Rob and my dad and the girls were gone, she took Ivy-Jane to the nursery to get her temperature taken and whatever else had to be done, and said she'd have her back in twenty minutes. After half an hour I called to ask for her back, and she snapped and me and told me she'd bring her in when she could. I called again after another half hour had passed: same response. I called several more times, and finally, after two hours, another nurse brought me my baby. Rob came in about twenty minutes later, and the nurse told him that she had "traded me" for another nurse's patient. It was another hour before my new nurse came in, but she was much better, and she moved my iv for me.

All in all, it wasn't a good birth experience for me, and there's no way I'd have another baby at that hospital. But Ivy-Jane is a little miracle, so it was worth it, anyway.

With Child

by Genevieve Taggard (1921)

Now I am slow and placid, fond of sun,
Like a sleek beast, or a worn one,
No slim and languid girl – not glad
With the windy trip I once had,
But velvet-footed, musing of my own,
Torpid, mellow, stupid as a stone.

You cleft me with your beauty's pulse, and now
Your pulse has taken body. Care not how
The old grace goes, how heavy I am grown,
Big with this loneliness, how you alone
Ponder our love. Touch my feet and feel
How earth tingles, teeming at my heel!
Earth's urge, not mine, – my little death, not hers;
And the pure beauty yearns and stirs.

It does not heed our ecstacies, it turns
With secrets of its own, its own concerns,
Toward a windy world of its own, toward stark
And solitary places. In the dark
Defiant even now; it tugs and moans
To be untangled from these mother's bones.

What a beautiful poem. And tomorrow my little Ivy Jane, our last baby and Levi's baby sister, will untangle herself from my bones. We can't wait to meet you, Ivy-Jane!

Long Overdue Update

I'm not much of a blogger! It's been a year since my last entry. So much has changed since Levi was born, and I haven't documented any of it here. Blame Facebook. :) Besides the fact that the kids have grown a lot in the last year, we've also moved back to Colorado, and we're expecting our tenth and last baby, Sugarplum, who is scheduled to be born by c-section on Monday, 12-6. (3D ultrasound pic at 31 weeks; she does have perfectly formed hands, in fact, but the u/s technician had to adjust for the cord that was in the way.)

Leaving Florida was hard on most of us. We left behind lots of friends (picture at left: some of my kiddos and some of the friends we left in Florida) and the beach and Disney and SeaWorld and all sorts of other great places we loved. It is good to be around family again (my and Rob's parents; my sister and brother-in-law and their five kids; Rob's sister and her hubby and their gorgeous son, Evan), and some very close friends (Char and Steve and their six kids: Jordan, Janae, Jacob, Jesiah, Jenna, and Jace). (Picture at right: Papa with Trevor, Clara, Levi, and Aubrey, the four cousins with September birthdays.) Actually, being around family and old friends is the only advantage I can think of. It's cold here and, at least in the small town we're in, there's not much to do. But next school year we're going to move someplace else, hopefully a college town so my girls might stay close to home after they graduate, but Zoe and Eve are both already talking about going back to Florida for college.

Pelli isn't even happy here. He doesn't like the cold, and once there's snow on the ground, we'll probably have to carry him out for his walks. Pelli is also suffering from horrible withdrawals from lizards. He loved, loved, loved eating lizards! There are lizards here, but one rarely sees them. At least Rob is happy here. For some reason, he likes the cold and the mountains. I like heat, humidity, and the beach.

Levi is almost 15 months old and he's still amazing. He's good sized for his age, and smart as a whip, as if there were any doubt he would be! His hair is brown, curly, and in need of a hair cut, but I won't let Daddy get it cut because that would ruin the curls. Soon enough he'll have to, though. Levi is into everything, and there are definitely differences between the way he acts and the way the girls acted at that age. He's more physical and thinks he can do anything he wants. Then he does. The girls were more cautious (with the exception of Eve, who was a crazy toddler). (Levi practicing being a big brother by pushing his own stroller, a week before he turned one.)

Violet is four now and her imagination is unmatched. She still talks constantly; that hasn't changed. She likes to decide what she's going to dream about each night before bed, and weaves elaborate dreams about her favorite things: fairies, elves, rainbows, flowers, makeup, pigs, swimming pools, castles... She's also pretty tech savvy. She loves my Droid X, and before bed each night, after she's decided on her dream, she plays games on it or edits pictures until she falls asleep. Whenever she talks to me about Levi, she says, "Your son..." You'll usually find Violet sporting a pair of pink bunny rabbit ears. (Picture at left: Violet read herself to sleep, just like Mommy does.)

Gemma is five and in kindergarten. She likes it, but she never wants to go. Every day when she gets home, she tells us how much fun she had and all about everything she did, and then she starts telling us how her head hurts, or her tummy, or her nose is stuffy, and she doesn't think she'll be able to go the next day. There doesn't seem to be any reason for it. She loves her teachers and has made friends. She just wants to stay home. The two years she stayed home with Rob were really good years for her, and I think she misses that a lot. (Picture at right: Gemma at Focus on the Family)

Clara turned eight in September and is thriving in third grade. She was an elf in a Christmas play last night, and by all accounts, she was perfect. I didn't get to go (I was teaching), but Nana and Papa and Daddy and all her sisters and brother were there. Her Aunt Shayla was even there because cousin Trevor is also in third grade and was in the play. Clara's doing great in school--nothing new. She's also becoming quite a good worker around the house, and she's very efficient when we put her in charge of doing laundry. I find this very impressive because I learned to do laundry (kind of) when I went off to college. When Rob and I were first married, he wore a lot of pink socks.

(Picture at left: Clara in red and Tabitha in grey, on Clara's birthday)

Tabitha is in fourth grade now and is nine years old. She's doing very well in school, too. So far she's made 100% on all of her spelling tests (that's my girl!), but she won't know until Monday what she got on today's test (my best guess--100%). She's still my artist and dreamer, very poetic and romantic. I'm looking forward to seeing what she does with that as she gets older.

Juliet is in fifth grade and is ten years old. It's her last year of elementary school. Bizarre. She's a crossing guard and she's on student council. She's making good grades. The future's so bright... Juliet's busy teaching herself gymnastics, and she's actually making very good progress all by herself, with occasional input from her big sis, Zoe. (Picture at right: Juliet--When she was little we sometimes called her RJ, Rob jr, because she's the one who looks most like Daddy, but I see me in there, too.)

Sophia, who is twelve, is in her first year of middle school! She seems to be having a good time, making friends, and going to formal dances (looking absolutely stunning, of course). She still loves to read, and reads way above grade level. Her grades at school aren't as great as they could be (failure to turn in homework), but she's not flunking out, either. She's always been flighty, but she's also really smart. It's hard to explain, but I'm not worried about her. She's going to do well in life. (Picture at left: Sophia at her promotion ceremony on her last day of elementary school)

Eve is in ninth grade (and remember that she should only be in eighth grade due to her age--she turned 14 on November 28) and I'm sorry to say she doesn't love school anymore. But it's because of the school, not because of her abilities. Last year in eighth grade she took several classes for high school credit, including English and Algebra (both honors). When we enrolled her in classes here, her counselor put her back in algebra, even though she'd already passed it with a high B both semesters (algebra was, in fact, the only class she made a B in; all of her other grades were As, and all of the classes she took were honors), and the counselor also put her in a class she described as an honors tenth grade English class for students who had already taken ninth grade English in eighth grade. After a week of algebra, Eve marched back to the counselor's office and demanded to be put in geometry instead. The counselor relented, but Eve's geometry teacher hasn't liked her since day one because she came into class a week late. Nevermind that she's passing it easily. Her English class, as it turns out, is NOT an honors class. It's a remedial class full of juniors and seniors who failed it the first time around. Eve and one other girl are the only ninth graders in the class. When I confronted the counselor about this, she said that it's because the other ninth grader was the only one in the entire district who took ninth grade English in eighth grade. I'm not sure how that could have played out, but it really does give me some great insight into this district. The next blow was when Eve, who was president of National Junior Honor Society last year, decided to run for ninth grade rep to student council. She didn't expect to win, since she's new here, but she's very competitive and wanted to campaign anyway. She and Zoe and her old friend Marissa (her best friend from before we moved to Florida) made a bunch of posters saying "Eve for Fresh Rep." The following Monday after school, I brought the posters to help Eve hang them. She was in tears and said she didn't need to hang the posters. It turns out, there were two spots for freshman representatives, and only two freshman in the entire class bothered to even turn in the papers to run. Eve wasn't happy at all. It made her hate the school even more. On top of it all, she's had a lot of health problems this year, including strep throat (originally diagnosed as mono) that made her spike a fever of 105 for several days. She was out for a week with that. She's always had bad allergies, but we've finally found a great ENT who has diagnosed Eve with chronic sinus infections and we've scheduled surgery to remove her adenoids and tonsils in January. There are other reasons Eve hates the school, and I'm behind her 100%. I know for a fact the school used to be much better than it is now, but it has gone downhill and I'm not happy having either of my girls there. One of the teachers told me that the district has done away with many of the AP and honors courses because only about 17% of its graduates go on to college. This makes no sense to me. Perhaps more students would go on to college if the school district encouraged it and provided the opportunities for students to delight in education.

(Picture at left: Zoe, Jordan, Eve, and Marissa going to Homecoming)

Zoe is enjoying high school more than Eve is. She got very lucky and was able to get a special late tryout for the cheerleading squad. Of course, she made it, and she's had a very busy first semester with practices, games, and competitions. She's doing about the same in school as she always has, which is to say not spectacularly, but I'm pretty sure she'll graduate and make it to college... The no-dating rule is still in place, and will be as long as she's living under my roof (did I really just say that?), but she's starting to chafe against it just a little. We'll see how that plays out, but I don't expect major opposition from her. She's always been very level-headed and trustworthy for the most part. She is a good girl; they all are. Zoe has started engaging in an activity that I consider very risky, and it scares me and her Daddy and grandparents quite a bit: she's driving now. Yep, she has her learner's permit. She's actually a pretty decent driver, nice and cautious. But she definitely needs help backing out of parking spaces. And changing lanes. And turning corners. I'm getting nervous just thinking about it!

Rob seems super stressed out lately. It has been a hard year for us all. He's gone back to working full time, which he loves, but I think he misses the time he used to have with us, and especially with Gemma, Violet, and Levi, his posse. His days off are usually Thursday and Friday, which means the only time he has with the kids is after he comes home from work, and, as all parents know, these are the worst hours of the day: homework, dinner, bath, bed, drama, drama, drama. We were used to all of us being together before school, after school, all weekend, and every school break. Now I teach Thursday evenings and not at all on Fridays, so I do get those days with him, but it's not the same. (My guys: Rob and Levi at Elitch Gardens in September)

This pregnancy as worn me out, and I'm bigger now than I was even at the end of Levi's pregnancy, which is saying a lot. At my 35 week ultrasound, the technicians estimated that the baby weighed 7 lbs 14 ozs. I told the doctor that the baby's size OBVIOUSLY meant she was done and ready to come out NOW, but, typical doctor, he disagreed. As I said, we set the c-section date for December 6 (my first December baby), which the doctor says is 38 weeks and one day. I know that it's actually 39 weeks, but I'm just the woman who conceived the baby; what do I know? This is an issue because the doctor wants to do an amnio the morning of the c-section to test for lung maturity. This is not something I'm looking forward to. I'm scared to death of c-sections anyway, but now we're sticking a needle the size of Excalibur into my belly before the c-section to make sure that a 39 week fetus is mature enough. Insane. I'm terrified. Last Sunday I was positive that I was going into labor, so we went up to the hospital (nearly a two hour drive). I was definitely having contractions, but they turned out not to be doing much--not enough to warrant an immediate c-section. In addition, they seemed to be caused by all the coughing and nose blowing I was doing because of a sinus infection that I was diagnosed with the day before. All of the kids except Sophia also have it. I wasn't actually suffering too badly from the infection, but they kept me overnight monitoring the contractions and giving me meds for the sinus infection, and that was when the infection hit me really hard. Rob brought me home the next day, Monday, and today, Friday, is the first day I've really been able to function halfway normally (although I did manage to get in to teach two classes this week; I had to get a sub for the other two). It's the first day I've eaten because I was hungry and not because I realized I had to eat at least once, and it's the first day I've spent more time conscious than not. Hopefully I will be completely healthy in time to deal with staples in my tummy and a beautiful newborn who needs snuggled. (Picture: Pelli and my belly at 31 weeks; I have absolutely no pictures that include my face since I'm the one always behind the camera. I even took this picture.)

In January, I am going to start kind-of homeschooling the girls. They will all be doing public school online. I have three reasons for this. The first is that this is the only semester I can do this with the girls. I'm going back to work full time next year, and won't be able to do it. I wouldn't anyway, because I think it's important for the girls to be in school with teachers they have to learn to work with, other students, and activities. But I can right now, and it's probably my last chance ever. Secondly, this will give Rob some better quality time with us, which I think will make a huge difference in everybody's stress levels. Thirdly, it will get the girls out of what I consider to be crappy schools. I mean this only for the high school and middle school girls. The elementary school the little ones are at is just as wonderful as it always has been, and they have great teachers. I think the majority of the teachers at the middle and high school are probably good, too, but the lack of honors classes and the dearth of smart, motiviated, involved students worry me.

So that's a year's worth of catching up in a nutshell--a large nutshell, for a large, nutty family. I can't believe it's taken me so long to get back to my blog. I'd like to post pictures after Sugarplum is born and show how everybody is reacting to our newest family member. Levi has no idea what's coming. It should be fun!

Levi James

Levi was born on September 18 at 12:45. He weighed 9 lbs, 6 ozs, and was 22" long. He is my biggest baby, beating Tabitha, the former heavy weight champion, who weighed in at 8 lbs, 11 ozs and 21 1/2" when she was born in '01.

Levi shares a birthday with Clara, who was thrilled to get a brother for her 7th birthday. All of the girls are thrilled with Levi, as are Rob and I.

Pelli, though, is less than thrilled. At first he thought Levi was a gift for him, because we called Levi "baby," which is what we call Pelli's hedgehog(s). When we put Levi on the floor that first day home from the hospital, Pelli snapped the foot of Levi's feet jammies in his mouth and tried to run off with him. Luckily, he missed Levi's toes, and he'd barely had a chance to move before the girls all tackled him (they were all sitting around Levi in a big circle). Now Pelli only cautiously sniffs at Levi, but gets right up in the middle of everything when Rob tries to play with Levi. I don't think Pelli would hurt Levi, now that he understands Levi is not a hedgehog, but he's not getting the chance to prove himself.

All my babies have been easy, with the exception of Eve, who was colicky, but Levi is even easier than the girls were. He rarely cries, and when he does, it's easy to figure out why. I've never heard him cry for no reason. He mostly sleeps through the night, rarely waking up to eat. As long as I'm bragging on my little Snuggleupagus, I shouldn't neglect to mention that he is really strong. He's had great head control since day 1, and can bear a lot of his own weight on his legs.

The only problem with my bitty boy is that he sometimes pees during diaper changes, and it doesn't just pool around his bum, as happens with girls. No, Levi's pee shoots straight up in the air, sometimes hitting both him and me in the face. Yuck! But all I have to do to avoid such unpleasantness is cover him up with a diaper wipe while I change him.

The very best thing about Levi is his baby smell, especially his baby breath. Just like his big sissies used to smell. There's nothing better in the entire world.

I went back to work when he turned one month, and I hated being away from him at first, but I'm getting used to it now. It's not so bad because I have to focus all my energy and attention on the high school kids, and my workday is shorter than if I worked in an office. Also, Rob sometimes brings Gemma, Violet, and Levi to see me at lunch time, which is soooo nice!

Levi has thick, dark hair which may or may not be curly. Right now, Clara is our only curly kid. Levi's eyes are bright and seem to be turning hazel or brown. Zoe has my blue eyes; Clara's are green; Eve and Violet have Rob's hazely green eyes, but theirs are greener than Rob's. The other four girls (Sophia, Juliet, Tabitha, and Gemma) have deep, chocolately brown eyes.

When each of the girls was about six weeks old, we got their pictures taken in a cute little pink dress that Rob bought for Zoe when she was born. Each girl wore her first pair of shoes, a size 0, for her picture. Before Levi was born, I got him a cute little blue and white checked short overall with an elephant on it (I collect elephants), and his first pair of size 0 shoes. But sometime before he was born, he outgrew those shoes, so I had to buy him a pair of size 1s for his picture. He got his picture taken last weekend, at 7 weeks instead of 6, for no good reason (I feel a little bad that we didn't do it at 6 weeks, but not too bad, because Sophia was also 7 weeks for hers). His picture turned out adorable because by some miracle, the photographer captured him with a full-face, open mouth smile. Gorgeous! I'll post it here after we pick it up and I scan it in (hopefully sometime before he turns one).

To make a long story short, Levi is absolutely perfect, and I am deliriously happy. Same story, different baby. :)

Metaphors by Sylvia Plath

I'm a riddle in nine syllables,
An elephant, a ponderous house,
A melon strolling on two tendrils.
O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!
This loaf's big with its yeasty rising.
Money's new-minted in this fat purse.
I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf.
I've eaten a bag of green apples,
Boarded the train there's no getting off.

I love Sylvia Plath, and this is my favorite Plath poem. Nine syllables in each line, nine lines--this poem describes exactly how I feel, and look. ("A ponderous house," "a melon strolling on two tendrils," "a cow in calf"--totally me right now!) But this is my last night of riding the train. Tomorrow I unboard.

I can't wait to see baby Levi James!

Before Babies/After (and During) Babies

Left: Me at the beach in '92.

Right: Me at the beach in '09.

I wouldn't trade my beautiful, amazing, wonderful children for anything, but it would sure be nice to look like that again!!

“Large Families Do Not Create Low IQs”

And all these years I thought my kids were going to be stupid just because there are so many of them.

That’s a relief, I guess.

Well, that would be a relief if the study didn’t go on to proclaim, “Low IQ Parents Create Large Families."

So now when rude people count the kids when we’re out in public and then ask us if we’re crazy, we can answer, “No. We just have low IQs.”

This study was first published nine years ago, but as a low IQ parent to a large family, I hadn’t come across it before. Or maybe it’s because I’m the busy working mother of a large family. Either way, the result is the same: I’m nine years late weighing in on this. But I will weigh in on it, regardless, because intelligence in America is a subject I’ve often pondered over. Actually, I’ve seriously stressed out over it because there are so many unintelligent young people in our society, and they will be the policy makers and lawyers and doctors and teachers of tomorrow. For that matter, I’ve met plenty of people in these types of positions today who are incompetent and unintelligent.

The information I need to draw strong conclusions on this matter is not available to me without heading to the nearest university and hitting the scholarly journals, something I won’t be doing anytime soon. I would like to know, however, how many large families and how many “normal-sized” families were followed for this study, and how many children, on average, the large and normal sized families had. I would like to know where they found the participants for this study. Face it, if they paid participants, they’d be more likely to find families that were low-income, which is also associated with low IQ. So, I would also want to know the average income of both sized families. Race, ethnicity, nationality, and religion were not mentioned, either, and these factors also influence IQ.

The results of the study that I have been able to find do not give any indication what percentage of the children from large families were found to have low IQs, normal IQs, and high IQs. There was no report as to the IQs of children from “normal-sized” families, nor was I able to find out what they considered “low IQ.” My guess is an IQ under 100 would be considered low, and above 100 would be considered high.

My opinion is that the majority of Americans have low IQs. IQ is not stagnant and can be raised by things like going to graduate school, doing crossword puzzles or Sudoku, and learning a foreign language. On the flip side, then, I would assume that you can also lower your IQ by watching stupid television shows, playing certain (most) video games, and spending too much time on some Internet sites, particularly on social networking sites like MySpace and You Tube.

Most of the high school and college students I’ve taught are not readers. I know this because it’s one of the first questions I ask when a new class starts. I spend a lot of my time encouraging and requiring students to read, but it’s a losing battle. They weren’t brought up to read. Their parents don’t read. They don’t read well. I’m very upset when I have students read aloud and they stumble over words that they should have mastered in 2nd grade. Remember, I teach 10th and 11th graders, some honors classes, 12th grade AP students, college prep courses, and college level English Comp and Literature classes. The vast majority of students in each of these classes cannot read at the appropriate level and are, in fact, reading far below where they should.

In 2005, I read an article by Sam Dillon in the New York Times entitled “Literacy Falls for Graduates From College, Testing Finds” that I found greatly upsetting, but not surprising. It stated,

When the test was last administered, in 1992, 40 percent of the nation's college graduates scored at the proficient level, meaning that they were able to read lengthy, complex English texts and draw complicated inferences. But on the 2003 test, only 31 percent of the graduates demonstrated those high-level skills. There were 26.4 million college graduates.

The college graduates who in 2003 failed to demonstrate proficiency included 53 percent who scored at the intermediate level and 14 percent who scored at the basic level, meaning they could read and understand short, commonplace prose texts.

Three percent of college graduates who took the test in 2003, representing some 800,000 Americans, demonstrated "below basic" literacy, meaning that they could not perform more than the simplest skills, like locating easily identifiable information in short prose. (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/16/education/16literacy.html?ei=5088&en=0e36586fe81ccdb3&ex=1292389200&adxnnl=1&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss&adxnnlx=1134784871-U7g5x6gt0q+4+Khj28BJvQ)

The article quotes Grover J. Whitehurst, the director of an institute within the Department of Education that helped oversee the testing. Whitehurst said that in part the decline could be blamed on “a rising number of young Americans [who have] spent their free time watching television and surfing the Internet.” He also surmised that “substantial declines in reading for pleasure” are “showing up in our literacy levels.”

My point is that many Americans are unintelligent. I’m working from memory here because I can’t find any Internet sources I trust. (I could go out to the garage and dig out my old psych texts from college, but they’re outdated, anyway.) The average IQ is between 85 and 115, with 100 being the most common score. IQs of 50-70 indicate mild mental retardation. 115-124 is considered above average, while 125-134 is gifted, 135-144 is highly gifted, and 145 and above is genius. Americans are not participating in activities that would raise their IQs. They’re participating in activities that dumb them down. Turn on any TV channel right now and you’ll see what I mean. (Okay, not any channel. Some channels have quality programming, but you still shouldn’t watch them nonstop.)

You may have noticed that I’m spending much more time than is normal for me blogging today. This is because my online Intro to Lit class turned in their essays in which they write a statement of theme and explore how the different literary elements work to help the reader understand the theme. I have twenty students who turned in their essays. I promised myself I’d grade five essays a day so I could be through in four days. I get irritated and worn out reading the essays. I’ve graded five so far, and the highest score was an 80%. I simply can’t get myself motivated to grade today’s five essays. My students in my online classes usually write at a higher level than the students I encounter in the face-to-face community college classes I teach. I don’t know why that is, but still, they aren’t writing as well as they should as college students. If you’d like to get an idea of the average writing skills of my high school and college students, go to any online newspaper, pick an article, and read through the comments left by readers. Admire the spelling, the grammar, and the logic that go into these. Of course, people who don’t read can’t write well. They have nothing to model their writing after.

Another complaint I have about many people I’ve met is that they’re very willing to believe anything they hear on TV. Hey, it’s easier than doing a little research and thinking for yourself. Besides, if you’re not intelligent enough to “read lengthy, complex English texts and draw complicated inferences,” research is a waste of time for you, anyway.

Now to get back to my original topic: Low IQ parents create large families. Well, low IQ parents also create small families. Bottom line, most people have low IQs, or at least act like they do and raise their children like they do. Therefore, Rob and I have pledged not to stop at nine children because we have to outnumber the idiots out there.

Evan!!

Our Visitors

Our family had a great treat this summer. Rob's little sister, Chastity, and her four year old, Evan, who is three weeks younger than Gemma, came to stay with us for ten days. We had a great time while they were here. The girls adore Evan, and I don't think I've ever met a better behaved four year old. It also gave the girls a chance to see what it's like to have a boy around. Okay, I learned a few things, too. One day when Chastity and Rob were out, Evan needed me to take him to the bathroom and I was a bit nervous, because I didn't know what he'd need help with. Turns out, he only needed his pants buttoned and unbuttoned. Also, boys don't have to use toilet paper after they go pee. I guess that's a good thing to know, but it seems kind of unsanitary to me.

Our Itinerary

We went to a nature trail one day where we saw several critters, but the highlight of that trip was seeing three manatees! Chastity has always wanted to see a manatee, so we were really lucky.

Another day we went to the zoo. It's a small zoo where we have an annual pass. Evan loved it because he got to see bald eagles. There is a petting area there, and the kids got to pet goats and

alpacas and llamas. At one point, the goat she was petting started eating Juliet's ponytail. I didn't feel she was in any immediate danger, and tried to take a picture. A dad standing right beside

Juliet, though, felt she needed rescuing, and did just that, as I was saying, "No! Don't save her yet! I want a picture of that!" Well, Juliet's hair is VERY long, and all the goat could really do was chew on it. It would have made a good shot. An alpaca tried to eat Clara's hair, but nobody saw it happen, and she managed to extricate it herself. I would have helped her immediately. Her hair is much shorter than Juliet's. Rob loved the goat. He made me take about fifteen pictures of him with the goat. I don't think the goat cared much for Rob. Rob had no hair to feed it. There was a snake in the petting section, and its handler set it on the ground so the kids could all see it. Out of nowhere, with no warning at all, Violet decided to hop over the snake. Thank goodness she didn't land on it. Needless to say, the handler put the snake up after that.

The temperature that day was a sweltering 90 something. For the first time ever in my life, my hands swelled up so badly my fingers looked like white sausages. I found it quite alarming, but every day afterwards that we spent out in the heat, my fingers did the same thing. The doctor said it's okay; drink more water.

The most exciting thing that happened at the zoo was when a wild gorilla got loose and attacked Zoe on the boardwalk!

The day after the zoo we went to the science center, mainly to get out of the heat. Guess what? The air conditioner at the science center was out that day. Of course. My fingers puffed up like sausages. The kids enjoyed themselves immensely, though. Violet particularly enjoyed making a Mr. Potato Head from all the pieces available at that display. We also got to see feeding time for the alligators. Stinky, but neat. Evan's favorite thing was fixing a car.

We spent two days in St. Augustine. At least, we would have spent two days in St. Augustine, but it took us most of the first day to drive there. It shouldn't have taken that long, but we made many, many potty stops on the way, and we had to stop and fix the air conditioning in the truck, and stop to eat, and stop to buy honey roasted almonds. You get the idea. When we got there, we headed straight to the hostel where I'd found cheap rooms that would let each of us have a bed to sleep on. But when Rob and Chastity went in, they said it wasn't what I'd expected when I booked it, and there were creepy looking old men all over the place. We had to pay $40 to cancel the reservation. We ended up in two rooms with two double beds each at a chain hotel, but the kids got to swim in the pool, and they were exhausted at bedtime anyway.

I love St. Augustine. We got to see the Castillo de San Marcos and walk around the historic district. But it was really much too hot, and the highlight of the entire trip was eating at a nice restaurant in the Spanish quarter. We were all cranky, hot, and tired. We didn't get to take the ferry out to Fort Matanzas, and Evan was sorely disappointed, because that was something he'd been looking forward to. The ferry, that is, not Fort Matanzas. I told Chas they have to come back down when the weather is better. Like in December.

The day after we came home from St. Augustine, we had to take Zoe to cheerleading camp. She was gone two whole nights. She's never been on her own for so long before. She handled it much better than I did. That evening, we went to Downtown Disney so Evan could ride the ferry. He enjoyed that and the Lego store, which is unbelievably expensive. Then Chastity treated everybody to dessert at the new T-Rex Cafe. The kids loved it. I was sad Zoe wasn't there. Downtown Disney is best at night in the summer. Not unbearably hot. This is one of my favorite places to go on date night.

On Chastity and Evan's last day, we picked Zoe up from cheer camp and got to watch the different squads compete. The girls were all very impressed by the cheerleaders, and every day since Zoe's been home, they've had her teaching them and the neighborhood girls cheers, and they've planned their own fundraisers, along with the neighbor girls, to buy cheerleading costumes. They even had a peprally in our driveway yesterday. Better than that, they were all also very impressed with the university that sponsored the cheer camp, and they all want to go there when they graduate from high school. This is great because the four oldest ones have been asking me what they have to do to be able to go there, and we get to talk about grades and extracurricular activities and community service and saving money and applying for scholarships. I had seniors at the high school who didn't know these things, so I'm glad the girls are getting the idea now, when there's time to prepare.

Jack Russell Terror: Kokopelli

I didn't really know what we were getting into when we got Kokopelli, our Jack Russell Terrier, three years ago this coming October. I'd done my research. I knew that Jack Russells had lots of "personality" and were "feisty" and "energetic." What I didn't know was that these terms are euphemisms for "insane."

He was just weaned when we brought him home from a kennel in Rockvale, and he was filthy. We put him in our big garden tub and the water turned black. I had to refill the tub three times to get him clean.

Pelli seemed normal enough the first few weeks we had him. He was afraid of everything, including our Dachshund-Pomeranian mix, Chupacabra, who was three months older than him. (Chupa was hit by a car and killed last year.) But soon Pelli started to show his true colors. One morning I let the dogs out for their morning run. Our house was located on half an acre and was set well up from the street, which wasn't very busy. About five minutes later, I heard a lot of honking. I ran down the driveway, and there in the middle of the street was Pelli, all five pounds of him. He was facing down a short line of cars and trucks, barking. He thought he owned the street. After that, of course, we quit letting him outside without his leash.

From the time he was a very little puppy, he has loved Rob, his daddy. He demonstrates this love in kind of a strange way: every time he gets the chance (i.e., every time Rob sits or lies down), Pelli likes to nibble Rob's ears. He doesn't do this to anyone else. He also absolutely LOVES napping with Rob. Look at the couch any weekend afternoon, and you'll find Rob and his boy cuddled up, sound asleep.

Pelli isn't all bad. He's great with the kids. Violet is always trying to play with him, hug him, kiss him, dress him up. You know, typical three-year-old girl stuff. Pelli puts up with her as long as he can, then gives a warning growl, which she never heeds. After the warning growl, he "nips" her; that is, he puts his teeth on her arm without putting any pressure at all. The result is Violet thinks she's been bitten, although there is no mark and no pain and no tears, and she decides to find somebody else to play with.


But Pelli is, um, eccentric. About a year ago I bought a dog toy for Pelli at Wal-Mart. It was a squeaky hedgehog for about $3. He went CRAZY when I gave it to him. Within two weeks, he'd "killed" it. The stuffing and squeaker were all torn out, but he still played with the empty corpse. Now we have a supply of hedgehogs we keep in a bag on top of a kitchen counter. When he kills a hedgehog, we have backups. When he gets a new hedgehog, he spends all his time putting it beside somebody and watching it, waiting for that person to throw it. If ten minutes elapse and the hedgehog hasn't been thrown, he'll give a few sharp barks and settle back into watching. Or he'll find someone walking around, dropping the hedgehog at their feet hoping they'll kick it so he can run and get it. At night, he'll stay awake, putting the hedgehog by my feet, hoping I'll kick in my sleep so he can fetch. When he can't get anyone to play, he buries the hedgehog in a blanket and entertains himself, growling and trying to free it. It's not that nobody is willing to play with him. It's just that nobody wants to play with the hedgehog for 24 hours straight. Besides, after the first ten minutes, the hedgehog is slickery with Pelli saliva. We have to hide the hedgehog and put Pelli in his crate so he can get some sleep when the hedgehog is new.

The behaviors I've detailed so far are relatively harmless. Since we moved to Florida, Pelli has become a kind of neighborhood terror. The biggest problems happen when Pelli escapes the house without his leash, which happens much more frequently than I'd like, mainly because neighborhood kids haven't learned to shut the front door quickly after themselves when they come in and out. My kids know better: whenever they want to open the door, they holler, "Hold Pelli!!"

A few months ago, Pelli had a crush on Joy, a pretty golden retriever who lives down the street. Joy was in heat, and one day, Pelli got out of the house. Rob chased after him, but Pelli disappeared into the doggie door at Joy's house. The neighbors weren't home, and Pelli would not come back out. Luckily, Joy was crated, so Pelli couldn't get at her. Unluckily, Pelli marked his territory by peeing all around her crate. Rob apologized profusely to the neighbors, and took our carpet cleaner over to take care of Pelli's mess. Still, how embarassing! Pelli spent quite a lot of time in his own crate after that incident.

About a month ago, Pelli got out again. Rob and I were getting in the truck to run an errand when it happened, so we followed Pelli down the street in the truck. He stopped in a driveway, and Rob pulled the truck over, got out, and told Pelli, in his deepest, meanest voice, "I'm going to beat your ***!" Pelli promptly rolled over on his back, and Rob picked him up and started cooing at him, because Rob isn't really mean, and he loves his doggie boy. Rob and I hadn't noticed, but the garage door was open. When Rob picked Pelli up, the front door of the car that was in the garage opened, and a Hispanic lady stuck her head out of the car and called to Rob, "Oh, you're talking to the puppy! Oh, that is a good thing!" Rob and I were surprised, and after Rob apologized for startling the lady, we had a good laugh, but we're grateful that the lady didn't call the police when she thought Rob was after her. Yikes!