Virginia Discovery Museum

I'd wanted to visit the Virginia Discovery Museum in Charlottesville under our (reciprocal) science- museum membership, but it had expired before we'd made it. The good news is that it costs $2 less per person ($2.50 less with AAA membership!) to visit the Virginia Discovery Museum than it does to visit any of the three Children's Museum of Richmond (CMoR) locations.

Like CMoR (but unlike Amazement Square in Lynchburg), the Virginia Discovery Museum is geared more toward toddlers or kindergarteners than other school-aged children. Even though my thirteen-year-old would've been bored out of his gourd, I was thoroughly charmed for several reasons. We parked right beside the elevator in the Market Street Parking Garage, which kicked us out into the beautiful, enclosed Downtown Mall:

Like CMoR, the Virginia Discovery Museum is all on one floor (ahhhh), and strollers are permitted (ahhhh). Overall, I just felt like it was an experience I could more easily navigate without a helper than so many others. As it turns out, however, I had an adult companion in my friend Karen, who deserves her own post sometime in the near future.

The Toddler Room and Karen's Daughter Izzie

Hallway

Open Studio

Left: TreeHouse Room, Right: Virginia Frontier area

Little C'Ville: Panera Bread (Amazingly realistic!)

Little C'Ville: Paramount (Popcorn on the floor just like in a real theater!)

More Little C'Ville (Panera/Paramount/Bee Corner)

I didn't manage to get good photos of either the pipe organ or the Airways tubes: both of which are so fun! But I enjoyed great success in photographing my very favorite part of the Virginia Discovery Museum: a kiddie carousel (the last of its type, supposedly) featuring 1910 Mangell's castings of Marcus Illion's horses.

I didn't realize (until another woman's child got on) that kids were allowed to ride!

Bottom line: you wouldn't be able to beat me away from the Virginia Discovery Museum with a stick. It's only a one-hour drive from my house. It takes 30-45 minutes for me to drive to the CMoR locations, where I spend more emotional energy in getting everyone inside safely and more money for admission. (I did have to pay $2 to park in the Market Street Parking Garage, but only because we were at the Virginia Discovery Museum for longer than the two, free hours I received with the museum's stamp. Still less than $20, total, for admission and parking!) I look forward to many, many more trips to Charlottesville with my little kids!

Amazement Square

In recent months, the little kids and I have visited two children's museums outside the Greater Richmond Area, so I thought I'd share some photos and observations from our experiences.

In March, we visited Amazement Square - The Rightmire Children's Museum in Lynchburg, Virginia, which is a two-hour drive from us. I don't know how I failed to blog about it before now except that my brother visited around that time, and then I got caught up in Easter festivities and spring break.

Anyway, I learned of Amazement Square from our friend Sharon, who rode along with us the day we visited. It's a large museum (four floors!) in downtown Lynchburg, and--while my two-year-old and four-year-old daughters found plenty to do--I thought it much better suited to elementary-school-aged children than the children's museums in the Greater Richmond Area.

I felt panicked for just a moment when someone at the front desk of Amazement Square told me I couldn't use my stroller, but he provided me (for free) both a backpack for the baby and a locker with a key. Chip was happy enough in the backpack, but--at four months--he was still a little floppy for it. Sharon tucked a blanket around his head and performed all the hard scrambles after the girls.

We had a wonderful time and didn't visit the Imagination Studio on the first floor or, for that matter, anywhere on the fourth floor, at all.

Learning How to Milk a Cow in the Big Red Barn

1) Voltageville, 2) Giant Kaleidoscope, 3) Light-up Steps, 4) Mirrored Wall

On Stage:The Rockstar Experience

Inside Listen to the Rhythm Music Studio

Inside the Paintbox

Clockwise from Left: 1) the Examination Room, 2) the Walk Through Heart, 3) Slide, 4) Outside Art

I thought Amazement Square well worth our two-hour drive, and I intend to return once or twice a year until the little kids outgrow its sort of fun. In the future, I'll arrange for longer days there because--as I've already indicated--we didn't explore the entire museum (and couldn't because I needed to be home by 3:30 to get Cade off the bus). I'd like to spend more time in Lynchburg, in general, which looked like an interesting town.

I was thankful for Sharon's assisstance on the day in question and won't return (at least for a couple years) without a helper: even if that helper is Cade. At thirteen, Cade's probably outgrown much of what Amazement Square has to offer, but--unlike the Virginia Discovery Museum in Charlottesville, which is its own sort of wonderful--I think he could find ways to enjoy it. I'll write about the Virginia Discovery Museum, soon.

Random Beauty

I wish I had time to blog all the beautiful things I experience, or even photograph. I try to keep up, to document the beauty of our days and relationships, but loveliness slips through the cracks. I'd get discouraged if it weren't such a good problem to have: this business of being overwhelmed by blessings.

I thought I might try and put together a post of random (as yet unblogged) beauty from the last two weeks of my life.

04/29/13: Baby Aubrie

I prayed so hard for this baby, and even as I took photos of butterflies at the Tennessee Aquarium over spring break, I was thinking of her and how, after her birth, I'd like to give her wings. Her sweet mama was gracious in giving me the opportunity to try. This is actually a composite of three different photos. 

05/04/13: Zoo Trip with Daddy 

The three little children and I go to the Metro Richmond Zoo very often, but Jim had been to the zoo only once before: on May 1, 2010, when I was pregnant with Charleigh. Here's a photo of Jim and Clementine from three years ago.

 Here's a photo of Jim and Chip from the other day:

 And here's a photo of Jim and the girls:

Jim's weight loss is dramatic; isn't it? I don't know how much he weighed three years ago. What I do know is that he's lost over two hundred pounds in the last twelve months: fifty going into his gastric-bypass surgery, and more than one hundred and fifty since.

I'm so proud of him. He was incredibly brave to take that step, and I know he did it out of his profound love for us. He's looking more and more like the man I dated nineteen years ago, but I've always seen that man in him. What I appreciate more than his appearance is his new-found ability to keep up with us. I couldn't help but remember, the other day, how often he had to stop and rest on his only other trip to the zoo.

Lord, we give thanks to You for Your faithfulness and help.

I love dearly this photo because our little Charleigh is skittish around animals and birds. Daddy made her brave.

I wanted to share these photos, too, because remember how I blogged about our IMAX experience at the Science Museum of Virginia? The film we saw, Born to Be Wild, was in part about a woman who cares for orphaned orangutans. So it was meaningful for the girls to have this experience just four days later:

May 11, 2013: Date Night

Jim and I ate dinner on the patio of Champps and spent some time walking around the outdoor  fashion park. We had Baby Chip with us, but he's an outdoor man just graduated to an umbrella stroller, so he was perfectly content and quiet. Jim took this photo with my cell phone:

May 12, 2013: Mother's Day

Jim brought me breakfast in bed: an omelet and sugary strawberries. The six of us went to church and, afterwards, to a one-hour play called Cinderella: The Fairy Godmother's Tale. Here, the girls with "Cinderella":

That night, Jim prepared an amazing dinner of salad; baked potatoes; and grilled corn, steak, and shrimp:

It was my first Mother's Day with Baby Chip and, therefore, with all the children this thirty-nine-year-old body will ever bear. I studied their faces and thanked God: at last, we are all here. I thought, as I do often, of those who continue to wait for someone. Please know: if you're waiting, I'm praying for you.

Andrea and Vanderhoop

This is my first cousin Andrea, to whom I refer often as my sister. She's the closest thing I have to one. She spent a lot of time with my parents, brother, and me when I was growing up, and Cade and I lived with Andrea and her daughter Brandi for about 1.5 years after my ex-husband and I separated. Also, far as I know, Andrea and Brandi are the only relatives I have within an hour's driving distance.

Photo by Anjie Kay

Andrea stopped in, today, with her best friend, an eighty-one-year-old Native American named Vanderhoop. He may well be the most fascinating person who's ever graced my door. This is Vanderhoop, holding Baby Chip:

 

I could write many things about our wonderful visit, but the thing I want to share most is the conversation I overheard between my daughters, after Andrea and Vanderhoop left. The girls were playing in the other room, and Clementine (age 4) asked Charleigh (age 2): "Did Andrea come today?"

"Yep," Charleigh said. "She came. And her fadder [father] came." Clementine didn't respond at all.

Now, obviously, Vanderhoop and Andrea look very differently, but my little girls paid no nevermind. All they could see was the love between these two people. And that love was bright and strong enough for them to conclude: Vanderhoop and Andrea must be father and daughter. 

Would that it were always so.

Reflections on Marriage Counseling

As I shared a few weeks back, Jim and I--in an attempt to make our "ever after" go as happily as possible--have been working with a counselor. Considering we haven't yet addressed the first issue*, I'm amazed by how much the counseling has helped, already. I wish we'd gone years ago.

You may be wondering why I'm blogging about this, and truth is: I don't really know. I do believe with all my heart that, as believers, we do ourselves and others a disservice when we pretend we're perfect. I don't want my hurts wasted and like to think that--by laying them out like this--I make it easier for God to use them. I seek accountability. I desire prayer.

Anyway, our first session was all about the three of us getting to know one another and deciding to work together. The counselor offered no advice or suggestions beyond encouraging our being nice to one another until the next session. We'd made the first step, he said, and we needed to rest in the knowledge that we were on the right road, that things were going to get better.

Those simple words really helped me, and Jim and I didn't have the first argument before our second session. It felt like some of the pressure had been relieved. We were hopeful and especially attentive and kind toward one another.

During our second session, Jim and I took a lot of notes regarding a specific process of communication called reflective listening. We'd been collecting hurts and resentments for a long time, our counselor said; our first goal should be to stop accumulating them. He gave us some homework and sent us home to complete it. We had another excellent weekend, but a few days before our third session, we tried to discuss an event of the day and had a communication fail.

When our conversation started to get heated, Jim called a time-out, which is part of the reflective-listening process. I was perturbed: we hadn't followed the process up to that point, and Jim wasn't particularly inclined to follow it after. I pretty much refused to accept the time-out until Jim followed the rest of the process correctly.

Our third session with the counselor was painful for me because the counselor disapproved of my refusing to accept the time-out. Einstein defined insanity, the counselor said, as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, and fact is: I've always refused to let things drop for any reason or length of time. I pretty much demand to be heard, understood, appeased, etc....not that it's worked out for me.

The counselor reminded me: if I have a problem, it's my problem. I need to ask the other person to help me with it and respect his or her need for the time and/or space to do so. He said: any answer or response I get from demanding is unlikely to be the one I want. Finally, he encouraged me to trust him, Jim, and the process itself. We won't leave things unresolved from here on out, the counselor promised, regardless of how many times that's happened in my past.

All in all, his words forced me to take a hard look at myself, my past, and the unhealthy patterns I've learned and lived. I cried and cried, and--at the end of the session--I really just wanted to go to bed. But I reckon they call them growing pains for a reason.

One more note: the time-out part of the reflective-listening process, when carried out properly, should make it possible to 1) talk about the troublesome issue at a later time, and 2) talk easily about other things, in the interim. I love those concepts.

*No worries: I don't intend to write out our issues at any point, just share some of what I'm learning.

Thoughts on Motherhood for ALL People

I was mixed up, but the Jehovah's Witnesses helped straighten me out. I invite them in, always, because I think we have things to learn from one another, also because they love my family and me: I can tell.

Somehow, don't ask me how, I'd come to believe that God had intended for Adam and Eve to live alone in the Garden of Eden, that after their banishment, He changed His plan and essentially cursed Eve with motherhood and all its pains.

Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children. Genesis 3:16a

I'd assumed that Adam and Eve needed workers in the form of children because their life of ease had come to a screeching halt. But, in fact, God had intended from the day of their creation, Day 6 (Genesis 1:31), that they become parents.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply. Genesis 1:27-28a

The children God mentioned in Genesis 3:16 were a promise, not a punishment, to Eve. The intense pain (of pregnancy and childbirth) was the punishment.

The Jehovah's Witnesses helped me look at motherhood in a whole new way. I know: not every person is a woman, a mother, or both, but every person has, or will, pass through the body of a woman to get here and therefore has, or had, or will have a mother.

Whoever you are and whatever your situation, you are meant to be here. Your presence carries no hint of curse, shame, or shadow. You are a promise fulfilled. You are a fearfully- and wonderfully-made (Psalm 139:14) gift to this world, and God loves you.

In fact, God loves you so much that He gave His Son a mother. Consider with me: God gave His Son the only experience common to all people since Adam and Eve: passage through the body of a woman. Not everyone has, or will, die (consider Enoch and Elijah), but everyone has, or will be, born. God could have sent Jesus--who existed before He was born of Mary (John 1:1)--another way, but God didn't; He sent Jesus helpless, infantile...just the same way He sends all of us: through a woman.

You might even say: God loves you so much that He gave Himself a mother. A mother was the one thing God didn't have until His trinitarian experience through the person of Jesus. 

Motherhood is a gift to all people. It is the means by which we have all arrived in this place. Won't you celebrate with me, this year, the God-given gift of your life?

Happy Mother's Day, Friend.

All Stress

I'd visited faithfully but hadn't busted her out of the adult home for a good while. When it comes to adventuring, I tend to err on the brave side and know: if it scares me, I shouldn't do it. Given that I didn't trust my legs while pregnant, many things scared me, and it took awhile for me to feel ready, post Baby Chip. But last Tuesday, I felt ready.

She'd wanted to return to the Science Museum of Virginia since our trip there two years ago, and--although we no longer have a family membership--Jim had bought a Groupon that was nearing expiration. I called ahead to let her know I was running a little late; I didn't want her to be angsty and fussy like she gets. She was ready to the rain bonnet and snowmen sweater when I arrived; I signed her out, and we were on our way.

We explored the entire museum, breaking to eat the lunch I'd packed and watch both Born to be Wild on IMAX and a rat-basketball demonstration (which squigged me out completely). We enjoyed ourselves so much, but I had to remind myself more than once of these wise words from Oprah:

All stress comes from resisting what is.

The tensest moments, for me, revolved around the IMAX. I'd gotten tickets for the noon showing without considering: Miss Joyce prefers to eat lunch between 11:30 and 12:00. It was challenging (to say the least) to eat lunch, fulfill our bathroom needs, and travel to the dome on time. When we got there, the door was locked.

I waved down a busy-looking man behind a glass wall and watched a look of annoyance cross his face, but--after he came out--I nodded toward my three little ones and Miss Joyce and said: "I'm so sorry we're late; we tried to get here on time. My hands are just really full." He unlocked the door.

Well. No sooner did we get situated in the dome when I realized: I no longer had my wallet. I whispered a quick prayer; left the girls and my camera with Miss Joyce; and--with Baby Chip in my arms--hurried out of the dome and back up the steps. Almost unbelievably, my wallet was sitting just outside the bathroom, on the very top step where Baby Chip and I had waited for Miss Joyce and watched the girls play.

I hated waving down the man behind the glass wall, again, but the door to the dome had locked behind me. After he came out, I took a deep breath and told him about my wallet. Then I said: "I feel a little crazy busting someone out of the adult home when I have three tiny children, but the Lord is with me."

"Yes," he said, smiling, and unlocked the door a second time.

I took this photo from the step where I left my wallet.