The New Digs

I think it's official, although it still makes me nervous.
How it Fits has moved here.

Cheating

So there's this other blog I'm playing with.

Shhhhh. . . Don't tell Blogger.

Happy 300th!

Apparently, you're supposed to do something exciting when you post your 100th post. Being the clueless young blogger that I am, I missed that milestone. So in honor of the 300th How it Fits post, Naiah Cadence shall make her fabulous debut as a comic strip character.

Happy 300th!

Comic design: Jason and the iMac
Fallish photography: Rebecca
Glamor in pink boots: Naiah

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

The Adventures of Naiah Cady

The End

Pray for Malachi

Roxanne has a tiny friend named Malachi, who is 14 months old. Malachi was just diagnosed with AML, the same disease God 'smote' for Aaron Boydston and his family, despite the gruesome odds. Please pray that God would deliver Malachi, just as he delivered Aaron.

Ummm. . .

"This booger is broken. I'm going to throw it in the trash."

-- Jonah, age 3

I Have Crossed Over

You know you're podunk when you see quail running around the parking lot and think, "Oooh, free meat!"

The Handyman

Naiah (18 months) brought me a Stanley screwdriver she had found.

She said, "Papa." (Papa is the kids' name for my dad.)

I said, "This is a tool, a screwdriver. It's Daddy's."

Naiah: Daddy's?

Me: Yes. This is Daddy's tool.

Naiah: Papa.

Me: No, it's Daddy's.

Naiah: Daddy's?

Me: Yes.

Naiah: No. Papa.

Me: Daddy's.

Naiah: Papa.

Adventure Time

Nathan Stryker linked to this on his blog. So random. So fun.

Identical?

At the dinner table, as Sarah picks at her pizza. . .

Jason: Uh-oh, Sarah. I think Sissy is getting bigger than you.

Sarah: What?

Anna: But we're both twins!

Me: Yeah, but if you eat lots of food, and Sissy only eats a little food, you'll grow bigger than Sissy.

Anna: I will?

Sarah: Really?

Jason: Really.

Anna: Sissy, you can have my pepperoni. And my sausage. You can eat all of my meat.

MUD!

Just another girly day at the mud hole.

No clothes were stained in the making of this post. (Yes, it is a miracle.)

ABC

I thought about doing this one. Then I was tagged by Lisa S. (Hi, Lisa!) So I did.

A- Available or married? Married, but I've never really been available.

B- Best Friend? Jason Kerr (Well, Hestermom, if husbands don't count.)

C- Cake or Pie? French apple pie, a la mode

D- Drink of Choice? Thai iced tea

E- Essential Item? Sewing machine, or mixer. It's a tie.

F- Favorite Color? Red

G- Gummi Bears or Worms? Worms

H- Hometown? Ojai, CA/DeKalb, MS

I- Indulgence? Currently, Aunt Susan's oatmeal cookie recipe, rolled in powdered sugar, and baked gooey-crisp

J- January or February? February

K- Kids & names? Anna, Sarah, Jonah, Naiah Cady

L- Life is incomplete without? Death

M- Marriage Date? June, 2000

N- Number of Siblings? My very talented little brother, John

O- Oranges or apples? Eh. Not a fan.

P- Phobias/Fears? House fires, while the kids are asleep upstairs

Q- Favorite Quote?
Time in the hand is not control of time,
Nor shattered fragments of an instrument
A proof against the wind; the wind will rise,
We can only close the shutters.
-- Adrienne Rich, "Storm Warnings"
R- Reason to Smile? Fabric-- lately fleece, but always batiks

S- Season? Autumn

T- Tag three people! Jenn, Lisa H., and Sarah Grace

U- Unknown fact about me: I had braces my last year of high school and first year of college. It really sucked.

V- Vegetable you hate? Canned anything.

W- Worst habit? Losing track of time, for entire days

Y- Your favorite food? Cha siu fan (roast pork rice), at the cafeteria at HKBU

Z- Zodiac? Libra. Not into it.

Short Narrative, by Jonah

One day, I was broken. My nose fell off. But Daddy fixed me.

-- Jonah, age 3

More Catching Up

Pepparkakor, inspired by Stephanie.

A Christmas card, from Anna to Sarah.

Christmas Morning (finally)

We have photos! And a card reader to upload them! If only I understood photography!

Naiah the nonchalant.

Princess Anna and Princess Belle.

Super Jonah versus Buzz Lightyear.

T-rex meets his lunch.

Shell Shock

I haven't been blogging lately, because I'm so overwhelmed and angry and disillusioned about the past few weeks with the teenagers we work with, that I'm scared of what depressing or fatalistic things I might write. I'll try to be factual without getting crazy.

One girl's father told her he doesn't want her anymore, and signed custody over to her abusive mother and her mother's abusive boyfriend, who she escaped from last summer, when she came to live with her dad. Her mother told her she doesn't want her either (she gets more money and party time with her friends this way), and sent her back to her father, who again told her he doesn't want her, but had no choice but to take her. She's twelve, addicted to hard-core porn, and sexually assaults boys her age. She obviously didn't get that way all by herself. No one seems to be trying to get counselling for her. I'm not even sure if it's available here.

Another twelve-year-old girl was looking forward to a Christmas visit from her mother. She has only seen her mother a handful of times since infancy, and couldn't stop telling us about the upcoming visit. Instead of a visit, she got a phone call from her mom. I learned about this over a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough. She didn't cry about it, or even dwell on it much. She just said it, like it was the most mundane thing in the world. "My mom called and said she's not coming. She never wants to see me again. She doesn't even want me to call her." Then she went back to pining over her boy-interest.

A third twelve-year-old has been bounced through five or six homes in the last year-- all extended family-- and is now living with her dad's new wife, who is living in a half-finished house around the corner, while they wait for her dad to complete his prison term. They rarely have food in the house, and have to cross the street to use the shower.

And that's just a few of the girls. The boys are a whole other story, and just as deeply in need. But they all walk around like everything's fine.

What the heck are we supposed to be doing here?

Potty Language

Naiah (18 months): Poo poo!

No response.

Naiah: Poo poo!

No response.

Naiah: Diaper with feces!

The Negotiator

Naiah is 18 months old. Just before bedtime, she tapped me on the arm.

Naiah: Cookie, please.

Me: No, baby. No cookies right now.

Naiah: Cracker, please.

Me: No, Naiah. You're going to bed in a minute.

Naiah: Milk, please?

Me: Oh, okay.

Dora vs. Science

Sarah: . . . And then the mean witch put a spell on the castle, and put it up on a cloud, and it stayed there! . . . Wait. . . How could a castle sit on a cloud? It's WET AIR!

Narrate, Punctuate

One day there was a princess named Dora. She needed to go to a party at the castle. She said, "How will we find the castle?" And what do we use when we don't know which way to go? The map! That has an exclamation point. Now say, "MAP!" with an exclamation point! MAP!

--Sarah, age 5, telling Naiah tall tales