Cereal

Usually my wife is the one who blogs about the funny things that are just a daily part of having three small children, but I called dibs on this one.

I poured Kaylynn’s breakfast cereal this morning. Given the fact that my love of cereal almost eclipses my love of soda, there’s always a large selection of cereals here for breakfast. They aren’t the healthy ones, either (sugary cereal never killed anyone, and if it did, I refuse to hear about it).

A quick look atop my refrigerator at any given moment would probably yield my staple cereals, which are Fruity Pebbles (or Fruit Loops), Cocoa Pebbles (or Cocoa Puffs), Corn Pops, Frosted Flakes, Golden Crisp, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Lucky Charms, plus a few other random cereals thrown in for good measure.

This morning, the kids picked cereals that aren’t always on the roster. Ryan and Aidan opted for a somewhat healthier alternative, Honey Bunches of Oats, but Kaylynn saw a box of Crispix in a visible spot. “I want that one,” she said.

As I poured her cereal, Liesl said, “That kind is called ‘Crispix.'” Kaylynn’s eyes light up, and she said in a small voice full of wonder, “Ohhhhh… Christmas!”

Consider Crispix a new staple.

Suddenly schooling

Just like that, we decided to enroll the kids at the nearby public school.

When we first came to the realization that we wanted to stay in New Mexico for a while, we started talking about schooling options. Regardless of location, I guess there are really only three options: public school, private school or home school.

Home school seemed the most likely option at first. I’m not too sure about our ability to get out of the mud road here on any given winter day. What would be the good of putting the kids in a school that they can’t attend any time the road is too wet? And private school, which (speaking as a former private school student) has both advantages and disadvantages, just isn’t financially feasible right now.

I tend to approach home-schooling skeptically. I’ve known a lot of home-schooled children who turned out book-smart but socially stupid. It’s definitely not universal, but I think proper home-schooling takes a tremendous amount of planning, effort and time. Sometimes I can’t understand how anyone but the independently wealthy could spend enough time schooling their children and still have time to earn a living, unless the family never sleeps.

Still, it was the path we figured we would take, for this year at least.

And then Liesl looked up the school district’s website to see what school our children would attend if they went to public school. It’s called David Skeet Elementary, and it’s located about 10 miles from here on the north side of Vanderwagen, NM. I called to get information about the school, and I was reasonably pleased with the information I got. Plus, they offer school bus service that picks up right at the end of the mud road. It would be a shorter walk to the bus stop than it was to walk the children to school last year.

We decided to take this into consideration, and we didn’t deliberate too long before deciding we liked this option best. There are a lot of things we can teach, but there are some intangibles that I feel are developed best in a classroom setting with other children. I feel like last year at the public school in Colorado was very beneficial for both of the kids, but particularly Ryan, especially in terms of self-confidence and knowing how to behave properly in a group setting.

I guess I do have to consider that public school, by default, involves some level of misinformation that I will eventually have to help my children unlearn. However, I think this is probably minimal at their current ages. And I feel like having some basics, such as reading, social studies, and math covered at school will allow Liesl and me to focus more on their spiritual development. This certainly seemed the case last year.

My biggest hang-up was that I had heard some less-than-ideal things about the general underperformance of the Gallup-McKinley Public School District.

I logged onto a website that analyzes schools by taking test scores (among other things) into consideration, and then ranks each school on a 1-to-10 scale. Gallup-McKinley School District has an overall score of 3/10, compared to Jefferson County School District in Colorado, ringing in at 7/10. David Skeet Elementary, the local public school here in New Mexico, received a school score of 3, the highest of any surrounding elementary school.

Imagine my surprise when I looked at Lawrence Elementary, the school that Ryan and Aidan attended last year, and saw that it, too, received a score of 3, making it one of the more underperforming schools in Jefferson County. I guess, from a strictly surface-level analysis, I might be able to expect a similar quality of education here at David Skeet.

And then there’s the demographic information, which really sold me on the idea of putting the kids in school here:

David Skeet Elementary, in its most recent year, had 250 students. Out of these, 245 were eligible for the free or reduced school lunch program. 1 student was Hispanic, 3 students were black, and 246 students were American Indian. That’s correct, no white kids. Not even one.

I love this idea for one simple reason: I do not, under any circumstances, hope to raise children with what I have unscientifically labeled “Snotty White Kid Syndrome.”

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against white people. I come from both English and Spanish parentage, and I look like my white relatives. But I cannot abide the smug sense of materialism and superiority that I see so prevalent in middle-to-upper class, mostly-white schools.

I saw more than enough of it last year, and I started to make some decisions about how I want to raise my kids. I don’t want to raise children who constantly “need” new toys. I don’t want to raise children who feel inadequate if their clothes aren’t brand-name and brand-new. I don’t want to raise children who feel the need to constantly assert themselves as better than their peers, always driven to do more and have more to measure up in a system that judges people by their possessions and not their character.

Could we do this in a school full of kids suffering from SWKS? I suppose so. But something inside me is just so much more drawn to the idea of sending my kids to a school with children of other ethnicities, especially kids who don’t come from affluent families. I think that, regardless of what the future might hold, my children could potentially benefit from being the minority for a year, at least.

I think of the missionary kids I knew growing up, most of whom turned out to be fine adults despite having been raised in a vastly different culture, and in conditions that most Americans would consider severely impoverished. Many of these kids turned out to be adults who somehow manage to stay focused on things that actually matter, and avoid the traps of American, materialistic consumerism.

I like that.

I found out that we’re a little behind the buzzer, though. Public school here started last week. Liesl picked up enrollment materials, and we’ll all go together tomorrow to turn in the paperwork. I’m not sure if the kids’ first day of class (as the “new kids,” no less) will be tomorrow or Tuesday, but we’re all looking forward to it.

Ryan’s Flowers

A freshly-picked flower bouquet by Ryan

One of my favorite things about living here is that we eat our meals together all the time.

I guess it’s something we could have done more often back in Colorado, but too much seemed to interfere with preparing decent meals and taking time to actually sit down together to enjoy them. Now, however, it’s usually a thrice-daily occurrence.

Ryan picks flowers every day. There are thousands of wildflowers growing around the ranch. She picks the ones that she thinks will make the prettiest bouquet and she brings them inside to decorate the table. Every day, there are new flowers to enjoy, each as beautiful as those of the day before.

Tonight at dinner, as I looked at the flowers she had selected, it seemed almost amazing to me for us all to be together as a family in a place where such beautiful flowers abound. There’s no florist or cash transaction involved; it’s as easy as going outside and picking them. It occurred to me that tonight’s bouquet, picked by my precious little girl, might be some of the prettiest flowers I had ever seen. It wasn’t just because of their natural beauty, but also because they reflected to me the beauty and innocence of the little girl who was so captivated by those flowers that she had to bring them inside for her whole family to enjoy.

As I thought it over later, that bouquet seemed to represent the meal we had enjoyed together. I thought about each time I get to sit down to dinner with such an amazing family. I get to enjoy the company of a wonderful woman who is so strong and yet so tender. I get to enjoy conversation with three children who constantly surprise, astound, amuse and inspire me with their brilliant interpretations of the world around them.

Each mealtime spent together is just as beautiful and incredible as the fresh bouquet of flowers that accompanies it. And just as having fresh flowers every day somehow never becomes routine or commonplace, so it also serves to remind me that each day is a new gift that will never come again, nor happen exactly the same way. Each meal and each conversation is a precious moment, each one so much more than I ever expected or could have possibly deserved.

From my earliest boyhood recollections, I remember my Grandpa Don beginning each mealtime prayer the same way: “Our gracious Heavenly Father, we are thankful for the privilege of being together.”

When I see Ryan’s beautiful flowers at the dinner table, I’m reminded just what a privilege it truly is.

Mud

A funny thing happens to dirt when it rains.

It was about 9:30pm. We turned from the paved Bread Springs Road onto the unpaved Pine Haven Road. The road did not seem to be staying in one place. I tried to relax and focus. Taking it slow, we made our way through the mud all the way to our turnoff.

Now we had to contend with the smaller, muddier Pine Haven Drive. I knew it had to get pretty bad in the rain. Before tonight, we hadn’t ventured out into the mud, but there have been some deep tire trenches from electric company vehicles on the road leading up to the ranch.

At the first downhill portion, I sensed we might be in for trouble. I’m used to driving in snow, and figured that driving in mud must be a bit like driving in icy slush. Sure enough, the van turned a little bit sideways and slid slowly, carefully down the muddy slope. We straightened out just fine at the bottom, rounded the corner, and made it without incident along the straight part of the road.

Just inside the gate to the ranch, there’s a steep hump to get up and over. And that was the part where the minivan met its match. We went up, almost cleared it, and got stuck. I reversed to give it another try and got more stuck. Unable to go forward, unable to back up. Certifiably stuck.

So we got out, closed up the van, and walked in the mud the rest of the way to the Straw Bale House.

There were a couple of near-wipeouts, but nobody fell headlong into the mud as I feared. Liesl laughed pretty hard for a while, which made me laugh, which made balancing more difficult, but we made it. I carried Kaylynn while holding Aidan’s hand, and Liesl guided Ryan. Sticking to the weedy center of the road gave a little more traction. We arrived at the Straw Bale House about ten minutes later with nothing worse than muddy feet and shoes.

Here are some new lessons recently learned: The van doesn’t handle mud well. It’s nice looking, but not a very good all-terrain vehicle. There needs to be a flashlight in the van. We also need to have some boots and jackets with us if there’s the chance it will be muddy when we get back.

Hopefully the rain will let up and I’ll be able to move the van tomorrow.

Fireworks

We tried to do something so incredibly ridiculous to the children that I’m embarrassed to admit it.

In previous years, we’ve taken the kids some fun places to watch fireworks — Arvada, Broomfield, Loveland, and downtown Denver. All of these have been great shows, but the kids have always hated them.

They sit and plug their ears. They cry. They want to know why the fireworks are still going off, and how much longer will it be until they’re finished. I, on the other hand, LOVE fireworks. I used to buy the good, illegal fireworks in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where the only limitation on what you could buy was how much you could afford. I just cannot understand how any biological offspring of mine could not enjoy colorful, exploding things that make loud noises.

I didn’t feel like having a fight about it this year, so Liesl and I made a different sort of plan. On Thursday night, during Last Comic Standing, we saw a commercial for the “Macy’s 4th of July Television Extravaganza,” which was going to feature performances by several big-name country singers and a fireworks show. It was the perfect solution: sitting inside, able to make the fireworks as loud or as quiet as the kids wanted.

We broke this idea to the children on the morning of July 4th. Instead of excitement, they looked at me as if I had grown an extra eyeball in the middle of my forehead.

“Why can’t we watch the real fireworks in the sky?” Aidan whined. “Yeah, we HAVE to see the fireworks,” Ryan complained. “It’s the birthday of the USA!” Kaylynn caught on enough to know that pouty faces were in order, so she pouted along with her siblings.

And that was the end of our cheesy, stupid plan to watch prerecorded fireworks on television. We decided to go into town and watch the real ones.

About noon, Gabe called and invited us to their house for the afternoon. He, Beka, Liesl and I had a great time discussing movies, politics and the end of the world. Meanwhile, the kids played outside in the water. Gabe is a genius when it comes to knowing what kids will find fun. He has a big, plastic, dome-shaped tent that must stand at least twelve feet high. Inside the tent is a trampoline, and attached to the ceiling of the tent is the sprinkler. It’s brilliant, because even if it’s windy, the kids can play in the water inside the tent without getting too cold. And who doesn’t love a wet trampoline?

Just before dark, we and the Anasts loaded up all the kids and headed to Granny and Grandad’s house. They have a pretty good view of the fireworks display from their front yard, which is where we camped out. The Anasts’ oldest four and our three spread out on a big blanket. We grown-ups sat in more comfortable lawn chairs, I lit my pipe, and we settled back for the pre-show entertainment.

I hadn’t paid attention to the fireworks stands on the outskirts of town. I heard that fireworks were illegal in New Mexico the same as in Colorado, so I didn’t think these stands would be selling anything more than small fountains and sparklers. I was apparently quite wrong. All around, families everywhere lit off artillery shells that put my old Wyoming fireworks to shame.

And then the big show started. I was surprised and impressed. I expected a pretty small display given the fact that Gallup isn’t such a big city, but it lasted almost half an hour and had some really neat fireworks I hadn’t seen before. The kids all had a great time together.

We got back to the Straw Bale House and into bed a little before 11. Lying in bed, listening to artillery shells still bursting in the distance, I smiled to myself, thankful for all of the freedoms that allowed me to have such a fun Independence Day with my family.

And I grinned a little at the knowledge that if I come up with an exceptionally stupid idea like watching fireworks on television when there are real ones outside, my kids are smart enough to smack me on the head and bring me back to reality.

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You can click the photos below for slightly larger versions.

Ryan, Kaylynn and Aidan

Ryan and Aidan watching fireworks

Liesl and Rob during the fireworks show

The Outhouse

Outhouse at the Turpen Ranch in Pine Haven, NM

You probably take your indoor plumbing for granted. I know this, because I used to be the same way.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not lamenting my current situation, because we DO have indoor plumbing here. We can still flush our toilet just like we could in Colorado. I think I just appreciate it a little more because the alternative is situated a mere 150 yards from the Straw Bale House.

Liesl tells me that when she was younger, the outhouse was the only bathroom out here. It’s not bad for an outhouse. Not fancy, by any means, but a few simple decorations inside make it comfy. It was one of the first things the kids explored when we got here. I guess they had never seen one before.

Ryan has a phobia of bathrooms in general, and I figured that an outhouse would be especially troublesome for her. It turns out she likes the idea of a toilet that never has to be flushed. Now that I think about it, the flush factor might be the actual problem. When she was first learning to use the toilet, she sat on one of those auto-sensor toilets in a fancy bathroom. It flushed itself while she was still seated, and I think we’re still seeing the effects of that traumatic experience today.

I myself don’t do public toilets in general, and I avoid outdoor toilets like the plague. I can count on one hand the number of times in my adult life that I have had to go so badly that I couldn’t wait until a more reasonable toilet could be found. Call me a sissy, but I want a toilet that’s clean, bug-free, and where I don’t have to view the deposits of the patrons before me.

Porta-potties are the worst. I would take an outhouse over a porta-potty any day of the week. Portable toilets are always filthy, and they’re specially designed in such a way as to ensure that even if you enter backwards with your pants already undone, you’ll still brush up against every sticky surface while inside.

My fear of outhouses has much less to do with cleanliness and everything to do with spiders. In Colorado, spiders and I got along just fine. On the rare occasion that I glimpsed a spider inside the house, I was the kind of guy who would take it outside rather than kill it. I have since become a certified Spider-Stomper because there are just so many and I’ve received more than my fair share of spider bites already. But that’s a different blog entry for a different day.

I am petrified of spiders in outhouses, especially because black widows love to nest in them. I thought that maybe this was just an urban legend, but numerous firsthand experiences related online have convinced me otherwise. In an online article posted by a doctor in the nearby town of Grants, NM, he confirmed that he treats a number of black widow bites every year, with most of them having occurred in outhouses.

Last weekend, Granny Turpen invited us to watch her favorite movie, The Milagro Beanfield War. It was a fun movie, set in New Mexico and filmed here, too. One of the characters, a wise, old man named Amarante, confirmed my outhouse fear when he warned a young Peace Corps volunteer, “Don’t leave your shoes on the floor over there because of the scorpions. And when you use the outhouse, don’t let your testicles swing up under the wood because of the black widows.” It was supposed to be a comedy, but that line fueled nightmares for the next two nights.

So every time I use the flush toilet here in the Straw Bale House, I now appreciate the toilet in a way that I never did before.

I guess I’m learning to appreciate — well, not really the finer things in life, but rather the things that I always took for granted, things like not getting a spider bite when I sit on the toilet.

Photos of the Straw Bale House

I’ve promised many of you pictures, and others of you have been asking for them since I started the blog. Here they are, without further ado.

This is the Straw Bale House, the place that (for now, at least) we call home. It’s a two-story building with a single-room loft and a ground floor that is also single-room, except for an enclosed bathroom.

Here’s a better angle from the southeast corner.

The ground floor is accessed through the turquoise door on the east side.

The loft isn’t accessible from inside the ground floor, but rather from the deck. Yes, that means we have to go outside to get upstairs. That stops being weird after the first few days.

This is what you see when you walk in that turquoise door and look to the right inside the house.

It’s all pretty much there in one room: kitchen, dining area, and sitting area.

There are lots of bookshelves inside, and they were already full of books when we got here. We have all been reading a ton.

We added a television for watching movies.

This is the wood-burning stove that sits in the northeast corner.

Because of the way the house is constructed, using strawbales for both framing and insulation, this house retains temperature unbelievably well.

I’m told that during the winter, even when the outside temp drops to zero, the inside is never below 45° even without a fire. With the stove lit, it gets snug and toasty in no time at all.

The kitchen isn’t really much of a kitchen compared to the one we left behind, but we prepare three meals a day here nonetheless.

The well water is fine for washing but not too pleasant to drink, so we buy gallon jugs of spring water in town.

Matt and Scott were kind enough to bring our microwave out before we arrived, so we actually eat our leftovers now.

Here’s the couch where we watch movies. It’s actually a sofa sleeper, but the mattress went upstairs to become a bed for Liesl and me.

This angle faces the southeast corner, and you can see the door in the background. Hopefully you’re being able to get a feel for the layout.

By the way, I think you can click these pictures for a slightly larger version.

Here’s the desk where the computers live. This is immediately inside the front door against the south wall.

That sliding door to the right of the bookshelf is the bathroom.

The keyboard was here when we arrived. The kids love to play it, and it keeps them away from my own (expensive) keyboard.

Kaylynn calls this house the “Strob House.”

Here’s a quick glance at the bathroom. I include this only to reassure you all that we do, in fact, have indoor plumbing.

The iron-saturated well water has the unfortunate tendency to stain things a very dark maroon, and I was told the toilet was beyond beautifying. I spent two hours using scrub pads and CLR, and the bowl looks almost new. I may blog about that later. Laugh all you want, but you know you’ll still read it.

Here are the stairs. They lead to what I have named the Smoking Deck (see my previous blog post with that name) and to the door that opens into the loft.

The huge satellite on the corner is a recent addition. It was basically the only option for high-speed internet out here, and it’s the equipment that allows me to send these photos through cyberspace to your computer. How crazy is that?

Here are two of my favorite little monkeys looking down at me from the Smoking Deck.

Aidan made the jump from being a city boy to a country boy almost immediately. He loves to wear his cowboy hat and can most often be found playing with either his cap gun or his bow and arrow. 

Ryan likes the outdoors too, but is also learning to do needlepoint and to sew.

Here’s what you see when you reach the top of the stairs.

There’s a porch light that illuminates the deck at night, but it also has the unfortunate consequence of turning the deck into a moth magnet. The pipe smoke helps to keep them away, though, and my favorite is just to sit out here under the moonlight.

Yes, that’s a roll of toilet paper in the windowsill. I’ll explain this momentarily.

And this, my friends, is the Smoking Deck itself.

One of my projects will be sanding, staining and sealing the deck. The weather has taken its toll, but I think a little TLC will help it stay in nice shape.

The bucket is called the Thunder Mug. The only bathroom is downstairs, and that’s not a fun trip at night, so the happier option is a nice chamber pot. (Hence the toilet paper.)

Here’s the doorway leading into the loft, which serves as a closet and bedroom for all of us.

Yes, that is correct. We all share the same bedroom. That has been a blast for the children, and a bit of an adjusting experience for Liesl and me.

We’ve gotten to the point where we’re able to get it cooled off quite a bit by bedtime, and that’s helpful for getting a good night’s sleep.

Here’s the back half of the loft, which serves as the bedroom. It’s carpeted with a pretty heavy pad underneath, and the kids each have their own sleeping bag sets. Liesl and I use the mattress from the sofa sleeper.

If we decide to stay past the summer, perhaps our sleeping accommodations will have to be improved. For now, though, the kids think it is awesome getting to have a “campout” every night.

This is the front half of the loft. Clothes and shoes on the right, a chair and some stored items on the left.

Liesl bought a sewing machine with her birthday money and is thinking of sewing some new curtains for the loft. She already sewed a new diaper bag that’s spiffy.

I have absolutely no idea where we would put a baby if we were still here in December.

And last, here’s one more look at the deck from inside the loft. You can see just a bit of the view we get to enjoy, with the meadow in front of us and some forested area beyond.

So that’s the Straw Bale House, folks. Hope you enjoyed looking as much as we enjoy being here. I will post photos of the rest of the ranch sometime soon.

We love you all, miss you all, and wish you were here!