Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

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The other day Eden marched into the kitchen where Paul was standing and announced, “I’m hungry!”

“Well, what do you do when you’re hungry?”  Paul asked in a fatherly/this is a teachable moment/leading sort of way.
But this is the Bean. “I tell someone I’m hungry!” she said.
He hid a smile and helped her get her something to eat, but first he came and reported the exchange to me.
Wonderful Bean.
Excellent Daddy.

https://alisonhodgson.com/2008/07/422/

There are surprises and then there are SURPRISES…

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We have established a new chore system inspired by my good friend, Sherry.  It’s brilliant.  Work is completely voluntary and the payment is in poker chips which can be exchanged for money or screen time.  There is immediate feedback as well as positive peer pressure.  Since it is voluntary there is no coercion and since any computer, video or T.V. viewing depends on it, there is motivation.  One of my favorite aspects is that the kids can earn one chip a day just for keeping their rooms clean.  How brilliant that they are learning that a little work, every single day, pays off royally.  

Christopher is living paycheck to paycheck, but his room is neater than it has been in years with nary a nagging from me nor a bit of help.   Lydia’s room is always clean and now she is reaping the reward for that as well as her innate industry.  Most wonderful of all is that I am getting my house cleaned as my kids are developing a good work ethic.  The big kids have lots of options but it’s been a little harder finding jobs for Eden.  There are a couple that we reserve for her like picking up all of Jack’s toys at night and using the hand vacuum on the floors, but that’s about it.  Because of this, and frankly for my own sake, I’m not holding her to the limitations on screen time.  The other day I was exhausted and allowed her to watch a couple videos.  Again, there’s a payoff: normally the big kids would be fussing about her selections, but this time they were just thrilled that the viewing was free.
Despite her exemption from the general system, Eden is throwing herself right into it.  Last night I noticed her hustling off with the Swiffer but didn’t really think about it.  Later I heard her banging around near her bedroom and ignored that as well.  It was only when I heard a gush of water hitting a floor that I paid attention.  She was in the half bath with the door shut.  I opened it and quickly took in the sight of her shoving the Swiffer around – just the rubber, no pad – the floor swimming in puddles of water, dust and Jack’s fur.  Oh the humanity!
“I’m cleaning the bathroom,” she announced with pride, “to earn a chip!”
“Honey, you need to check with me before you start a job.”
“But I wanted to SURPRISE you!”
I sighed.  What do you say to that?  I grabbed a towel and told her to dry the floor.  As she lay down in a puddle to reach, I shuddered and checked out the rest of her work.  The sink looked very clean and tidy.  Her toothbrush and paste were carefully set on one side and on the other she had neatly arranged a bar of hand soap and some flossers on a floral plate.  Soon the towel and the mopper were sopping.  As I delivered it to the laundry room, Eden stretched out on my bed for a rest and soaked it down to the mattress. 
Not so cheerfully, I shooed her off to get fresh pajamas then fetched fresh sheets and the hair dryer.

Stray puppies I have found on my doorstep this week:

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A Pug named Princess who told me her life story while I dug out a new garden bed.  It’s a tear jerker.  Her mother, a Rottweiler, abandoned her and all her siblings (a Golden Retriever, a Black Lab, a Rottweiler like her mom, a Boxer and a Dalmation- some litter!) in a basket to go off and marry a “handsome dog.”  How she and her siblings managed to travel the world in that basket to my door is quite the story and I’m sure she would gladly tell you when you have an hour (or two) to spare.

A Pink Labrador named Pinkie Pie.  She showed up on outside my bedroom door, barking sweetly.  “Pretend you’re going to check the mail,” is a common command.
A Bear Bull named Bear.  “It’s kind of like a Pit Bull, but different.”
A Golden Retriever named Golden.  (Don’t judge.  You try coming up with a new name every day for a couple of years.)
A Blue Labrador whose name escapes me.
A Rottweiler named Roger, “Because they sort of rhyme, but they don’t rhyme,” who took every pillow off my bed and made a kennel under my bedside table.
And this morning, a Black Labrador named Max because, “Some people call their girl dogs Sam or Max and I want to sound like Jack.”  She is one month old and was born on January 10 (Jack’s birthday).  When I told Paul her age and the date of her birth he raised an eyebrow.  Max was busy nuzzling his feet by way of a greeting.  I had found her while he was in the shower.  He had to have her back off as he was only wearing a towel.  Fortunately Max is a confident girl without any of the abandonment issues you might expect from a stray puppy.   

Some of Eden’s Photography

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She saw these clouds and begged for the camera.
Like any good photographer, she captured what was at hand, in this case, the flight magazine.  She really liked this page and took some better pictures of it, but I liked the bit of the seat in this one.

I was reaching for the camera as she snapped this last one.  The flash, illuminating this image in the dark cabin was arresting.  It felt like I was having a vision, and I know now, I was.  This is what we can be: walking together, following the light and being lit by it.

Wild Kingdom

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There are a lot of stray puppies in my neighborhood.  Just about every morning I find a stray puppy in a laundry basket just inside my doorstep.  I always take them in and spend the day getting to know them.

It’s a variety of breeds of I have adopted: Black Labs, Purple Labs, Chihuahaus, Westies and lately, a rash of Golden Retrievers.  You might think that a stray would just be happy to be taken in to a safe home.   These puppies are, but they’re also full of directions.  “Pretend you’re going outside to check your garden and you find me.” I am often instructed in a whisper followed by a string of high pitched barks.
This morning the stage direction started just after breakfast, when I was trying to iron a shirt for Paul.  “Pretend you’re going out into the woods for a walk and you think you see a dead dog, but it’s really me sleeping.”
“If I found a dead dog I would run screaming.”
“No.  Pretend you wonder what’s in that den and then you see me.”
I assumed I was talking to a puppy, but it was actually a baby bear.
“I’m all alone because…” she paused to think up her story, “my Mama and Daddy and brother and sister bear are all dead.”
“What happened!”
“Bad guys shot them and turned them into meat…actually they were good guys.”
“That’s so sad!”  I had finished ironing so I bent over Jack’s kennel, where she was sitting waiting to be found.  “Oh my goodness!  What’s this?  Is that a baby bear?”
She crawled around, blinked and turned her head winningly.
“Here girl!  Come on girl!”  I clucked and patted my leg.
She slowly crawled out of the kennel.  “I was scared that you were going to turn me into meat.”
“Never!”  
We walked, well I did, she crawled, past the bathroom where Paul was standing in a towel, shaving.  I made the introductions and explained to him that the her family had been turned into meat.  
“That’s sort of surprising,” he said, “bears aren’t normally prized for their meat.”
“Well, that’s what happened.”  I said.  Baby Bear just blinked up at us.  
Since then she has made quite the den out of an upside down chair, a couple blankets and several pillows.  She even has a small crystal vase with flowers tucked into the upended part of the chair.  Wild animal animal she might be, but that doesn’t keep her from appreciating the finer things.