Queen Kelley

I like lists, both making them and reading them. When I get to the end, I feel like I’ve accomplished something. For today’s list, I thought about sharing what with you. Then I figured why is a lot more interesting. So here’s my list of why, part 1.

1. Why I prefer reading and writing children’s literature. By children’s, I mean anything from picture books to teen fiction. I’ll admit I haven’t read much adult fiction, so my opinion is definitely biased. From the few pieces I’ve read, though, I have to say that children’s literature seems to offer more imagination, hope, and freedom to dream. Whether it’s fantasy, coming-of-age, or some other kind of tale, I’m completely pulled into books about or directed toward young people. In the best of these books, the characters are palpable, the life lessons subtle, the humor abundant, and the endings nearly always hopeful, if not necessarily happy. I enjoy writing for this age group for similar reasons. I’ve found that I don’t need explicit descriptions of sexual encounters to sense passion between individuals. I don’t need long, drawn-out, brutal death scenes to appreciate depth of loss. I don’t need excessive profanity to understand the fire behind a character’s words. The bottom line is that I simply think children’s literature is more fun and fulfilling to read. With limited reading time, I go with what I love.

2. Why Harry Potter is an obsession of mine. My infatuation with all things Harry Potter ebbs and flows with the book and movie releases. Recently, I’ve rewatched movies 3 and 4 and will soon watch 5 to get ready for the release of 6 next month. Of course, the books trump the movies any day, but time constraints don’t allow me to reread them in the way I’d like. As for Harry, there’s something incredibly moving about witnessing him transform from a small, awkward, and unaware young wizard into a force that defeats the wizarding world’s greatest enemy. Perhaps most fascinating is that he doesn’t actually evolve all that much. While his perspective on life and death and good and evil greatly matures, he is still Harry at the end of the series—awkward, slightly unsure, not at all self-glorifying. There are things to complain about regarding some of Rowling’s logic and lack of editing, but overall the series is powerful, captivating, and enduring. I look forward to reading the books with my kids in a few years. (As for the religious controversy over the books, I say it all comes back to Glenda’s question in The Wizard of Oz: “Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” Clearly, Harry is good, as hard as it is to be good in a world where evil is so tantalizing.)

3. Why I put my kids to bed at 8:00 every night. Plain and simple, they need the sleep, and the King and I need the time to ourselves. Additionally, my children wake up by 6:30 nearly every morning, regardless of when they go to bed, so why not get them down early and extend the night for everyone? Although you can never be certain of a family’s reasoning, I still cringe when I’m at a grocery store at 9:00 pm and see small children gallivanting around with their parents. Put them to bed already!

4. Why I believe in God. Science intrigues me. The more I learn about our amazing universe, the more I feel certain that there is a Higher Power behind it all. I simply can’t accept the fact that everything, from the enormity of the sun that sustains our life to the tiniest particles that make up our cells, randomly exploded into being. As for the particulars of how, when, why, and exactly what, most days I’m content to discover those things as God chooses to reveal them. I know many intelligent, logical, reasonable people disagree with this belief in a Supreme Force. But I believe. I’ve found that I can’t do otherwise.

5. Why I’m a Baptist. I’d like to say it’s because I admire Baptist principles like freedom of interpretation, separation of church and state, priesthood of the believer, autonomy of the local church, etc. Those are indeed lofty principles when applied to the way one worships God. To be honest, though, I’m a Baptist because I was born into it. Who knows how it would be otherwise. I might just as easily be a Methodist, Presbyterian, Episcopalian, Catholic, some other religion, or not a believer at all. I’d like to think I’d be attracted to the Baptist faith as an outsider, but my particular denomination of Christianity has a poor reputation these days. However, being mature enough now to explore other groups, I choose to remain a Baptist mostly because of the historic principles listed above.

6. Why I give money to childhood cancer research/support organizations. Everyone needs a cause—a place to direct his or her money, time, and passion. For the King and me, it’s childhood cancer groups. Our main inspiration appears occasionally on my blog. A little girl with a big story, Catie Marie Wilkins battled medulloblastoma (aggressive brain tumor) for nearly four years. She passed on at age four in January 2007, just a week before her younger sister’s birth. I still follow the family’s journey, which Catie’s mother Jenny writes beautifully on her blog. What these children face is beyond horrifying. What their parents endure is unimaginable. The strength they all exhibit is breathtaking. The King and I are committed to caring for these kids and their families as much as we can, and hopefully we can increase our support and involvement as our own children mature.

7. Why symmetry drives me crazy. My husband is an engineer. For his work, symmetry is essential and even at times a life-and-death matter. However, he brings this into the home. The rugs must be completely straight, the pictures perfectly aligned, the colors mirror images of each other. We laugh about it because my instinct is to bump things slightly askew, to scatter the colors, to break the reflection. It makes life more interesting and unpredictable. Of course, John would say just the opposite.

8. Why I wear my seatbelt and switch off lights. It’s my dad. From the time we were small, he insisted that we buckle up while riding, and this was before seatbelt use was the law or even popular. Luckily, the habit stuck with me even through my teen years, when many of my friends considered seatbelts annoying and uncool. Now I have the law on my side, so I will accept no excuses from my own kids. As a Georgia Power engineer, my dad also nagged about us leaving lights on in unused rooms. At this point, I probably use more energy than I conserve because I flip off the lights even when I leave a room only for a few minutes. Thanks, Daddy. (:

9. Why I care about the Earth. I have a hard time understanding why anyone, especially those who believe in God, think caring for the Earth is some liberal, new age way to live. For me, it merely makes sense. When I think about the technological advances that have consumed our world in the past century, our progress blows my mind. Accompanying our advances in America is, unfortunately, a tendency to produce more waste that takes years to decompose (if it ever does), to collect material possessions in excess of anything anyone would ever need, to use our resources as if they are limitless (they’re not), and to disregard the fact that people across the sea still can’t count on clean water, much less electricity to power their lives. Why any Christian would think it’s not important to care for the Earth is totally beyond me. I can’t do it all, but I’ll do my best to recycle, reuse, and choose my food and products carefully in this little corner where I live.

10. Why I take a break from reading to read. The King simply shakes his head at me when, after a couple of hours of nightly editing, I crawl into bed to open a book and read for a few minutes. Let me assure you that there is an enormous difference in reading  someone’s writing in order to correct it and reading someone’s writing in order to enter another world. There is nothing—not movies, not vacations, sometimes not even time with friends—like sneaking away into the world created by a fiction author. I’m so thankful for books and only wish I had more time to read them.

To be continued….

I promise I’ve asked this question a hundred times in the past four days. We decided to introduce Ladybug to underwear this week. Not plastic, diaper-like pullups. Not even thick, padded training underwear.  Real underwear, with the likes of Elmo and Ariel plastered all over them. Beginning Monday morning, off came the heavily soaked diaper, and on went the undies. Ladybug was proud to wear them, proud to display them, and proud to soil them. Even with Nana and Pappy’s presence and encouragement, it took her a while to accept the repercussions of relieving herself without sitting on the toilet first. We even brought out the baby potty, which I despise, because she asked for it. After all, the little girls in her two potty-training books (Ashley and Prudence of My Big Girl Potty and Once Upon a Potty, respectively) got their own tiny potties. My preference would be to go straight to the toilet, albeit endowed with a smaller, cushiony potty seat. At least then Ladybug’s productions could go right where they belong. But no. My child has to use the little potty. She used it in the den. She used it in the kitchen. She even used it outside by the sandbox. Why is it that I can wipe this child’s bottom without grimacing for more than two years, but when I see the same stuff in a white plastic pot, I can barely keep from heaving?

Tuesday was a great day for Ladybug with many potty triumphs and only one accident. On Wednesday, though, she woke up with no apparent memory of the previous day’s accomplishments. And of course that was the day Nana and Pappy (my parents) chose to leave me all alone with the stubborn learner and her overzealously helpful big sister. It was a hot day, as June days tend to be in middle Georgia. We went out to the kiddie pool in our shady backyard. I asked Ladybug a dozen times if she needed to sit on the potty, which, conveniently, waited in the shadow of a nearby tree. “No,” she responded every time, and went back to making mud with pool water and the sand that blankets the playset area. (No one actually played in the kiddie pool.) Shortly thereafter, while I was chatting with my dear King, she squatted in her frilly Ariel swimsuit, looked at me, and said, “I poo poo.” I quickly hung up on my husband, hoping to catch her before she smushed it all into a goopy mess. (I didn’t.) What fun it was to try to clean her and her swimsuit and the floor where, of course, the swimsuit fell offending side down as I struggled with Ladybug. She was upset, and so was I. Finally, I regained control of myself and assured her, “It’s okay. Everyone has accidents.” Then I hugged her tightly and told her she was doing a great job with the potty. (She wasn’t.)

Thursday started off badly, with a urine spot on the floor in three different rooms before lunchtime. I nearly gave up and slapped a diaper on her. Fortunately, it was almost naptime, when she wears a diaper anyway. The day ended well. Once she awakened from her nap, she had no more accidents, even with the distraction of house guests. This morning, she seemed to be in the same mindset, in tune with her body, but eventually she forgot and had three accidents. Fun. We’ll try again after today’s nap. Maybe I can do this. Or maybe not. Either way, Ladybug doesn’t seem to care one iota.

I had planned to write an eloquent plea for donations to Catie’s Cure Classic, a golf tournament organized by my friend Jenny and her husband Tre’. They do it in memory of their sweet Catie, who died at age four from complications of medulloblastoma, a cancerous brain tumor. The tournament raises funds for CURE Childhood Cancer, an organization that helps finance research for innovative treatments and also directly supports families in emergency situations involving their sick children.

I’ve no need to write an eloquent plea, though, because my dear King did it for me. Please read his post, “Dragons that Won’t Fade,” and consider supporting this cause, even with a few dollars. Or, as the King says, if you aren’t already, get involved in caring for children in some way. It makes the world a much better place.

Since the beginning of the year, the King and I have attempted to refinance our home. After weeks of miscommunication with the various agencies involved, we finally completed the process and received enough cash back to remodel our kitchen. The most heavily used room in the house offered worn linoleum, damaged laminate countertops, and outdated stained wood cabinets. We didn’t need a makeover in the kitchen, but we desired one, and fortunately we were able to do it. The actual remodel involved about a month and a half of steps, including the temporary relocation of essential appliances like the stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher (yes, the dishwasher is essential in my house!); the removal of cabinet doors for sanding and painting (which made finding items so easy that I was tempted to leave them off); four days that the girls and I spent with my parents while a contractor laid the tile flooring; one day in which contractors installed the new quartz counters and sinks; and two days for the King and I to paint while the girls spent time with his parents. At long last, and thanks to many people (the Baucoms and Heather for decorating assistance; the grandparents for their babysitting), our country farm kitchen is transformed into a crisp, clean, useful, and pleasant space. All that remains is caulking, a few paint touch-ups, and the construction of a special cabinet/shelf to hold art supplies and cookbooks. I am truly grateful!