...about deployment.
Fox News has an Army officer in Iraq providing diary entries once a week or so. He writes about attending memorial services for fallen soldiers:
The ceremony itself is fairly simple, with comments from the leaders and friends of the soldier, boots in front of a rifle with a helmet and dog tags, and a picture of the soldier in front of the flag he or she fought for. Roll call, a 21-gun salute, followed by a rendition of "Taps" and "Amazing Grace." No glorious speeches by generals in shiny uniforms, no motivational “now let’s go get ‘em, boys.” Simple, professional and absolutely gut wrenching.
Yeah, gut wrenching.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
staying at home
Danielle Bean had this good post on being a SAHM. Which is timely since SFO Mom addressed this topic on Friday, which lead me to Catholic Mom who talked about this earlier in April and linked to this article. My favorite quote from the article:
“If you receive the benefit of an expensive education at society’s expense, you should not be allowed to throw away that knowledge unpunished.”
Oh, trust me, being a SAHM is punishment enough! At least it better be...I'm banking on all these years of messy diapers, fickle toddlers and sleepless nights and the future ones with hormonal adolescents and disobedient teenagers as "time-served" in purgatory. That's the only hope I have that keeps me smiling instead of screaming!
“If you receive the benefit of an expensive education at society’s expense, you should not be allowed to throw away that knowledge unpunished.”
Oh, trust me, being a SAHM is punishment enough! At least it better be...I'm banking on all these years of messy diapers, fickle toddlers and sleepless nights and the future ones with hormonal adolescents and disobedient teenagers as "time-served" in purgatory. That's the only hope I have that keeps me smiling instead of screaming!
Prayer request
Please pray for my family as we suffer the stress of this move. Even with movers coming to do all the work, the transition has everybody out of sorts.
Pray that we all find our sense of humor soon.
Pray that we all find our sense of humor soon.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Older brothers are good for some things
Last night at dinner, Fritz was talking, but I wasn't listening. There was the usual chaos and confusion at the dinner table and all I manged to hear was "fence".
I begged his pardon and asked him to repeat what he just said. A little voice in my head suggested I should pay attention.
But again, the baby or the toddler demanded assistance and the only additional word I managed to hear was "climb."
That little voice got a little louder, and I had Fritz repeat his story one more time.
Fritz: When I climbed the fence...
Me: What fence?
Fritz: The new fence.
Me: What new fence? The one at the playground {the one designed to keep toddlers in, but the one that Jenny climbed our first time there} or the one in our new yard?
Fritz: The one here!
Me: Don't climb the fence.
Fritz: Why not?
Me: It's not meant to be climbed. It's to keep you IN the yard.
Fritz: Why?
Me: So I know where you are! And another thing, I don't want you showing anybody else how to climb the fence. They might get hurt.
Fritz: Oh, Billy and Katie can't climb the fence...
Me: That's good, but don't show them how...
Fritz: ...but they could when I lifted them.
wonderful.
I begged his pardon and asked him to repeat what he just said. A little voice in my head suggested I should pay attention.
But again, the baby or the toddler demanded assistance and the only additional word I managed to hear was "climb."
That little voice got a little louder, and I had Fritz repeat his story one more time.
Fritz: When I climbed the fence...
Me: What fence?
Fritz: The new fence.
Me: What new fence? The one at the playground {the one designed to keep toddlers in, but the one that Jenny climbed our first time there} or the one in our new yard?
Fritz: The one here!
Me: Don't climb the fence.
Fritz: Why not?
Me: It's not meant to be climbed. It's to keep you IN the yard.
Fritz: Why?
Me: So I know where you are! And another thing, I don't want you showing anybody else how to climb the fence. They might get hurt.
Fritz: Oh, Billy and Katie can't climb the fence...
Me: That's good, but don't show them how...
Fritz: ...but they could when I lifted them.
wonderful.
Bye bye baby
Pete is now officially a "big baby". He's not a toddler, but he's not a tiny baby either. He's been able to sit up and crawl for quite some time now, but that didn't quite put him in the "big baby" category. Even his ability to cruise around didn't quite promote him. No, for me, there are two things that really propel a kid from "little baby" to "big" babydom:
he can wave, and he can do high-fives.
For some reason, this social interaction more than the physical prowess associated with crawling or walking is a much bigger indicator of how he is growing and developing. And these things, his adorable wave or his little hand slaps each accompanied by the most joyous smile, are so inexpressibly sweet. So cute. So precious.
And oh so sad. Bittersweet.
he can wave, and he can do high-fives.
For some reason, this social interaction more than the physical prowess associated with crawling or walking is a much bigger indicator of how he is growing and developing. And these things, his adorable wave or his little hand slaps each accompanied by the most joyous smile, are so inexpressibly sweet. So cute. So precious.
And oh so sad. Bittersweet.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
What they don't know won't hurt them...
A few weeks ago my kids were eating green beans and rice for dinner, as usual, because the rest of the meal was yucky (according to them). Fritz said that when he was grown up, he would take his kids to Wendy's for chicken nuggets...but guesses that perhaps he'd eat stuff like what his Dad and I eat.
That was shockingly astute for a 7 year old, I thought. I'm sure when I was 7, I thought I'd eat all sorts of forbidden treats all the time when I was grown up.
Like Twinkies...
My mom rarely bought Twinkies. She bought them so rarely, in fact, that I can't recall her EVER buying them; I'm only saying "rarely" to cover the once or twice that she MIGHT have bought them. I never had a Twinkie in my lunch bag. I do remember being constantly disappointed that I didn't have a Twinkie in my lunch box. But Mom didn't buy them. And I'm sure that I thought when I was grown up I would buy them all the time. Eat them for breakfast. Give them to my kids.
Well, I'm all grown up, and I rarely buy Twinkies. I buy them so rarely, in fact, that I can't recall EVER buying them, except for yesterday. Yesterday, I decided that my kids needed a special treat for after dinner. Everybody is feeling the stress related to the move, even the kids. Bill and I are grumpy and impatient. The kids are bouncing off the wall and arguing a lot. Twinkies would solve everything and make us all feel better, I was sure of it.
Bill's mom never bought Twinkies either. So, when we found ourselves alone after dinner with the new box, Bill suggested that we eat one now when the kids wouldn't see so that we could have another one with them and they wouldn't know that we had 2 and they only had one.
I like the way this man thinks.
So we had a Twinkie each. And then we gave them to the kids, but we didn't actually have another one then. Later, the kids went to bed and we looked at the box. The box had had 10. We each had one (except for Pete), so there were 4 left. That meant one more for each kid...or that meant 2 more for mom and dad.
Can you guess who had those Twinkies?
That was shockingly astute for a 7 year old, I thought. I'm sure when I was 7, I thought I'd eat all sorts of forbidden treats all the time when I was grown up.
Like Twinkies...
My mom rarely bought Twinkies. She bought them so rarely, in fact, that I can't recall her EVER buying them; I'm only saying "rarely" to cover the once or twice that she MIGHT have bought them. I never had a Twinkie in my lunch bag. I do remember being constantly disappointed that I didn't have a Twinkie in my lunch box. But Mom didn't buy them. And I'm sure that I thought when I was grown up I would buy them all the time. Eat them for breakfast. Give them to my kids.
Well, I'm all grown up, and I rarely buy Twinkies. I buy them so rarely, in fact, that I can't recall EVER buying them, except for yesterday. Yesterday, I decided that my kids needed a special treat for after dinner. Everybody is feeling the stress related to the move, even the kids. Bill and I are grumpy and impatient. The kids are bouncing off the wall and arguing a lot. Twinkies would solve everything and make us all feel better, I was sure of it.
Bill's mom never bought Twinkies either. So, when we found ourselves alone after dinner with the new box, Bill suggested that we eat one now when the kids wouldn't see so that we could have another one with them and they wouldn't know that we had 2 and they only had one.
I like the way this man thinks.
So we had a Twinkie each. And then we gave them to the kids, but we didn't actually have another one then. Later, the kids went to bed and we looked at the box. The box had had 10. We each had one (except for Pete), so there were 4 left. That meant one more for each kid...or that meant 2 more for mom and dad.
Can you guess who had those Twinkies?
Friday, April 21, 2006
move update
Well, I got the keys to the new house today.
Move date is supposed to be this coming Thursday.
Supposedly, we will be able to make an appointment on Monday to have our cable/internet/phone installed. This is crucial to our accepting the move date next week.
All in all, the house is nice. I think the master bedroom is too small and I'm not sure that our stuff will fit in there, just because of the placement of windows and doors. All we really have is a queen bed and a dresser. That's not exactly an unreasonable amount of furniture?!? It's ok if my rocking chair has to go downstairs...but I would like it if my cedar chest could fit in there.
I think the kids' rooms are small too, but we'll manage. Again, door and window placement doesn't give much blank wall to fit things like dressers. I'm just not sure that builders/architects actually live in these houses.
But, the kitchen is fabulous - plenty of room, plenty of storage. Nice big fridge. The eating area has a big window with a seat long enough for four little bottoms. It'll be nice to not have to eat lunch in between the school work spread all over the dining room table.
So, this weekend: moving the kitchen stuff and the toys and any other items that we don't want the movers to touch.
Move date is supposed to be this coming Thursday.
Supposedly, we will be able to make an appointment on Monday to have our cable/internet/phone installed. This is crucial to our accepting the move date next week.
All in all, the house is nice. I think the master bedroom is too small and I'm not sure that our stuff will fit in there, just because of the placement of windows and doors. All we really have is a queen bed and a dresser. That's not exactly an unreasonable amount of furniture?!? It's ok if my rocking chair has to go downstairs...but I would like it if my cedar chest could fit in there.
I think the kids' rooms are small too, but we'll manage. Again, door and window placement doesn't give much blank wall to fit things like dressers. I'm just not sure that builders/architects actually live in these houses.
But, the kitchen is fabulous - plenty of room, plenty of storage. Nice big fridge. The eating area has a big window with a seat long enough for four little bottoms. It'll be nice to not have to eat lunch in between the school work spread all over the dining room table.
So, this weekend: moving the kitchen stuff and the toys and any other items that we don't want the movers to touch.
finally learning to love to read
I learned to read when I was 3 or 4 years old. I don't recall any formal lessons by my mom, but my brother, Pete, is 3 years older, so perhaps his school lessons and early readers helped me pick it up.
My husband learned to read in school. It was hard for him, and he HATED it. He has nightmare memories of his mom trying to encourage reading by forcing him to read the Hardy Boys and stuff like that. To this day, he considers his reading skills to be inadequate: he's too slow, he thinks.
I wanted my kids to love reading. I thought that if I didn't push too hard, provided a large assortment of reading material (I LOVE DK books - I think a lot of boys like to read about STUFF, not stories), read to them and demonstrated my own love of books, that everything would fall into place and my children would naturally love reading too.
And in the deep recesses of my heart, I really hoped my kids would be like me and just pick up on reading without too much effort. They are, after all, little Einsteins, right?
Fritz bolstered these dreams by knowing his alphabet by the age of 2. He could write the letters by the time he was 3. He loved to have me read book after book. But alas, his 4th and 5th birthdays passed with nary a hint that he understood that those letters combined their sounds to make words.
So, we began formal phonics lessons when he was 5. He had no trouble with the sounds that the letters made, but when it came time to blend those sounds into words, it overwhelmed him. We tried for weeks, and then we took a break, and then we tried something else, and then we took a break, and then we tried something else...and on and on. Even after he began to put things together, it was a constant struggle and not much fun at all.
Progress continued to be painfully slow, especially for this mom who, on the one hand, didn't want to push and really did agree with the idea that kids all progressed at their own pace (blah blah blah), but, on the other hand, honestly felt that HER kid was too smart to not be able to read (what was his problem, huh?).
I finished his phonics program in early March and we've taken a break from formal reading for a while, mainly because I'm trying to get ready to move. I bought a new reader for him, but decided I would wait until things were settled to delve into it. In the meantime, the kids have been left with the hundreds of kids books we own.
My husband and I have continued to read to them, and I've continued to encourage their own reading. I just haven't forced them to read anything to me.
And halleluiah, Fritz has finally found his reading pleasure: old joke books and Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. He and Billy have been sitting around, giggling, as Fritz reads about the antics of Calvin. They've been acting out and quoting the different gags (not too surprisingly, my clever son thought the one where Calvin takes Hobbes to school for show-and-tell, but then uses him for math help (7 + 3 = 73) was really funny).
My husband learned to read in school. It was hard for him, and he HATED it. He has nightmare memories of his mom trying to encourage reading by forcing him to read the Hardy Boys and stuff like that. To this day, he considers his reading skills to be inadequate: he's too slow, he thinks.
I wanted my kids to love reading. I thought that if I didn't push too hard, provided a large assortment of reading material (I LOVE DK books - I think a lot of boys like to read about STUFF, not stories), read to them and demonstrated my own love of books, that everything would fall into place and my children would naturally love reading too.
And in the deep recesses of my heart, I really hoped my kids would be like me and just pick up on reading without too much effort. They are, after all, little Einsteins, right?
Fritz bolstered these dreams by knowing his alphabet by the age of 2. He could write the letters by the time he was 3. He loved to have me read book after book. But alas, his 4th and 5th birthdays passed with nary a hint that he understood that those letters combined their sounds to make words.
So, we began formal phonics lessons when he was 5. He had no trouble with the sounds that the letters made, but when it came time to blend those sounds into words, it overwhelmed him. We tried for weeks, and then we took a break, and then we tried something else, and then we took a break, and then we tried something else...and on and on. Even after he began to put things together, it was a constant struggle and not much fun at all.
Progress continued to be painfully slow, especially for this mom who, on the one hand, didn't want to push and really did agree with the idea that kids all progressed at their own pace (blah blah blah), but, on the other hand, honestly felt that HER kid was too smart to not be able to read (what was his problem, huh?).
I finished his phonics program in early March and we've taken a break from formal reading for a while, mainly because I'm trying to get ready to move. I bought a new reader for him, but decided I would wait until things were settled to delve into it. In the meantime, the kids have been left with the hundreds of kids books we own.
My husband and I have continued to read to them, and I've continued to encourage their own reading. I just haven't forced them to read anything to me.
And halleluiah, Fritz has finally found his reading pleasure: old joke books and Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. He and Billy have been sitting around, giggling, as Fritz reads about the antics of Calvin. They've been acting out and quoting the different gags (not too surprisingly, my clever son thought the one where Calvin takes Hobbes to school for show-and-tell, but then uses him for math help (7 + 3 = 73) was really funny).
Thursday, April 20, 2006
full plate
Wow. I've actually got some pretty heavy-duty issues in my life right now.
Housing: our move is scheduled for next week. I just found out that there is no high-speed internet or TV service at my new house, and there won't be these services for, oh, weeks. And housing thinks that this is OK. I'm not sure about phone service either.
My rental property: I need to get up to Jersey and find new tenants. We'd like to put in a new kitchen, too. In our copious free time.
Swingset: I have a nice swingset in Jersey that I'm making arrangements to have taken down and re-installed here in Virginia at the new house that I'm going to refuse to move into until I can have internet and TV service.
Fritz: 1st Communion is only a few weeks away and the timing couldn't be worse.
Chicken Pox: Just found out that a friend in Jersey has exposed her kids to the virus and should have a pox on her house in a few weeks. I'd like to expose my 2 youngest ones - I stopped doing the vaccine after Katie when I learned it was made using fetal tissue. Again, we have a huge timing issue.
Blood pressure: Bill had it taken yesterday and it was higher than healthy (not bad enough to medicate, but worth attention). High-pressure job, limited sleep, long hours, no exercise...plus additional stress related to our rental property and our housing situation here. Plus the guilt he feels knowing he'll miss just about every soccer and baseball practice for the boys, and half of Fritz's baseball games.
OK, that's enough for now. I need to focus on today's schoolwork and what's for dinner and folding laundry. All these other things will fall into place...eventually...right?
Housing: our move is scheduled for next week. I just found out that there is no high-speed internet or TV service at my new house, and there won't be these services for, oh, weeks. And housing thinks that this is OK. I'm not sure about phone service either.
My rental property: I need to get up to Jersey and find new tenants. We'd like to put in a new kitchen, too. In our copious free time.
Swingset: I have a nice swingset in Jersey that I'm making arrangements to have taken down and re-installed here in Virginia at the new house that I'm going to refuse to move into until I can have internet and TV service.
Fritz: 1st Communion is only a few weeks away and the timing couldn't be worse.
Chicken Pox: Just found out that a friend in Jersey has exposed her kids to the virus and should have a pox on her house in a few weeks. I'd like to expose my 2 youngest ones - I stopped doing the vaccine after Katie when I learned it was made using fetal tissue. Again, we have a huge timing issue.
Blood pressure: Bill had it taken yesterday and it was higher than healthy (not bad enough to medicate, but worth attention). High-pressure job, limited sleep, long hours, no exercise...plus additional stress related to our rental property and our housing situation here. Plus the guilt he feels knowing he'll miss just about every soccer and baseball practice for the boys, and half of Fritz's baseball games.
OK, that's enough for now. I need to focus on today's schoolwork and what's for dinner and folding laundry. All these other things will fall into place...eventually...right?
tag
My sister tagged me via email.
Four places I have worked in my life:
1. McDonalds as everything except for management
2. A shoe repair store as a clerk
3. A hotel as a maid
4. A cherry farm as head cook (a job that prepared me most for my current job)
Four movies I could watch over and over:
1. The Princess Bride
2. Blues Brothers
3. The Sound of Music
4. LOTR trilogy
Four places I've lived:
1. Richmond, VA
2. Alsemberg, Belgium
3. Lohr am Main, Germany
4. Allentown, PA (well, we're living here in Allentown...)
Four TV shows I love to watch:
TV? I'm happy I could come up with 4 movies I'd watch more than once.
Four Places I've been on vacation:
1. Denver, CO
2. Disney World
3. Paris, France
4. Bratislava, Slovakia (but it was Czechoslovakia at the time and I was just passing through on my way to Svit)
Four websites I visit daily:
1. Raising Angels
2. SFO Mom
3. Danielle Bean
4. The Daily Eudemon
Four of my favorite foods:
1. Spaghetti with meatballs
2. Potato Salad
3. Fried Chicken
4. Chocolate
Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Visiting my sister Barb
2. Visiting Monica
3. Visiting Lena
4. Visiting my parents
Four friends who I have tagged that I think will respond:
1. Raising Angels
2. SFO Mom
3. Monica
4. Lena
Four places I have worked in my life:
1. McDonalds as everything except for management
2. A shoe repair store as a clerk
3. A hotel as a maid
4. A cherry farm as head cook (a job that prepared me most for my current job)
Four movies I could watch over and over:
1. The Princess Bride
2. Blues Brothers
3. The Sound of Music
4. LOTR trilogy
Four places I've lived:
1. Richmond, VA
2. Alsemberg, Belgium
3. Lohr am Main, Germany
4. Allentown, PA (well, we're living here in Allentown...)
Four TV shows I love to watch:
TV? I'm happy I could come up with 4 movies I'd watch more than once.
Four Places I've been on vacation:
1. Denver, CO
2. Disney World
3. Paris, France
4. Bratislava, Slovakia (but it was Czechoslovakia at the time and I was just passing through on my way to Svit)
Four websites I visit daily:
1. Raising Angels
2. SFO Mom
3. Danielle Bean
4. The Daily Eudemon
Four of my favorite foods:
1. Spaghetti with meatballs
2. Potato Salad
3. Fried Chicken
4. Chocolate
Four places I would rather be right now:
1. Visiting my sister Barb
2. Visiting Monica
3. Visiting Lena
4. Visiting my parents
Four friends who I have tagged that I think will respond:
1. Raising Angels
2. SFO Mom
3. Monica
4. Lena
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
don't give us your poor, your tired, your huddled masses
I worked legally in Germany during the summer of 1990. They were pretty hostile to foreign workers back then (even me), since the collapse of the Iron Curtain and the unification of Germany had flooded the western portion with cheap labor and lots of welfare recipients. My German was OK. It was a rough summer. All my friends were other foreign workers (from Brazil, Venezuela, Slovakia...and one from the former East Germany who loved to listen to me speak German because it was "so sweet"). I think the immigration policy in this country needs to be revamped. I don't think we should tolerate illegal immigration, but I think we should allow for guest workers. I don't think taxpayers should have to educate or medicate all of Mexico too, but I don't think churches should have to check ID at their soup kitchen doors.
my competitive side
Curses to my husband who suggested, in the most innocent manner, that I do speed work to decrease the time it takes me to run a mile. He had to know that I would blatantly ignore this suggestion if it came from anyone else but him. But for some reason, I take his plain recommendation and consider it a double-dog dare.
So, I did some speed work yesterday, and I wanted to puke. But I'll do it again. Of course. When he found out that I was doing it while pushing the jogging stroller, he laughed. He went running once with the stroller. It is much harder. So, he laughs at his foolish wife who does everything the hard way.
But he did concede that he's pretty impressed. And I think he's expecting me to keep up with him come October when we'll do the Army Ten Miler.
Fortunately, no strollers are permitted.
So, I did some speed work yesterday, and I wanted to puke. But I'll do it again. Of course. When he found out that I was doing it while pushing the jogging stroller, he laughed. He went running once with the stroller. It is much harder. So, he laughs at his foolish wife who does everything the hard way.
But he did concede that he's pretty impressed. And I think he's expecting me to keep up with him come October when we'll do the Army Ten Miler.
Fortunately, no strollers are permitted.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
apparently, I have nothing better to do
A Bit Of Both |
| Calvin & Hobbes, like a scruffy yin and yang, are in perfect balance within you. Like Calvin, you're weird, a bit insecure, and can be a trouble-maker. But like Hobbes, you're down to earth and sensitive. It's a risk to say it here, after just a ten question test, but I'll bet you're smarter than most. Both Calvin and Hobbes are crafty, clever characters, and any one made from equal parts of each is a force to be reckoned with. |
 |
From GOP Soccer Mom.
Talk about yin and yang...I gave the test to Bill and he answered just about every question exactly opposite of how I answered and ended up with the same results. So, where I am Calvin, he is Hobbes and vice versa. I'm the one with the cockamamie scheme...but he's ruled by his heart. Too funny.
Easter pictures
There wasn't one picture with all the kids looking cute, so I'm posting a couple of pictures and hope that each kid looks cute somewhere. Fritz won't pose nicely for the camera, so no good shots of him at all. Billy loved his little outfit (he picked it out) and was happy to pose. Katie expects to be in every shot...of course, she photographs so well. It's tough to get a picture of Jenny - she usually won't cooperate. And Pete is a baby and good photos of babies are all luck and timing.
figured it out
I finally realized what was causing my sidebar to shift down - those silly event tickers I added. I am now going to go back and delete them all.
back to reality
Well, I guess I have to do schoolwork today. Also on tap: sorting and organizing the living room and dining room where all the school supplies are kept.
Last Monday I called to see if I could get the keys and the predicted response was no, try again next week. I didn't call yesterday, because we were on our field trip, but I'll call today. Drove through the neighborhood last night and I predict the response will be no, try again next week.
Last Monday I called to see if I could get the keys and the predicted response was no, try again next week. I didn't call yesterday, because we were on our field trip, but I'll call today. Drove through the neighborhood last night and I predict the response will be no, try again next week.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Egg roll
Dear American Taxpayer,Today is tax day. Thanks for your payment. I really appreciate it.
We just got back from the Egg Roll on the White House lawn. We had a good time. I thank you for all the free goodies and the fun memories.
I'm not sure why you had such an extravagant party or why you do this every year, but thanks for having us over. Maybe next time it won't rain so much.
Happy Easter!
Easter Monday - the secular side
After a wonderful week free from formal education, you can imagine the resignation in my son's voice as he asked:
"Mom, do we have school today?"
He was confident that the answer would be yes. His tone was one of defeat. He knew arguing with mom about schoolwork was futile and even dangerous...a battle likely to end in piles of extra assignments for mom thinks the best way to appreciate 2 hours of schoolwork is to do three instead. And then slave-driver mom says:
"Son, today for school you will participate in a tradition that is over a hundred years old. Today you and 10,000 other children will roll eggs on the lawn of the White House."
Hooray for school! Let's just hope it stops raining.
"Mom, do we have school today?"
He was confident that the answer would be yes. His tone was one of defeat. He knew arguing with mom about schoolwork was futile and even dangerous...a battle likely to end in piles of extra assignments for mom thinks the best way to appreciate 2 hours of schoolwork is to do three instead. And then slave-driver mom says:
"Son, today for school you will participate in a tradition that is over a hundred years old. Today you and 10,000 other children will roll eggs on the lawn of the White House."
Hooray for school! Let's just hope it stops raining.
CCC discussion
I added this button to my sidebar...if you can see my sidebar. I can't. It's all the way at the bottom and I've been unable to fix that. Sorry. I'll keep trying.
Anyway, I've added this button to my sidebar:
The Catechism of the Catholic Church was instrumental in my conversion. So, if you are looking for truth, I highly recommend the ongoing discussion there. Otherwise, stay far away. You wouldn't want to be brainwashed! ;-D
Anyway, I've added this button to my sidebar:
The Catechism of the Catholic Church was instrumental in my conversion. So, if you are looking for truth, I highly recommend the ongoing discussion there. Otherwise, stay far away. You wouldn't want to be brainwashed! ;-D
Easter Monday
By the time I got to Mass yesterday morning, I was in a terrific mood. The kids were pumped up on sugar and happy as could be. Getting out the door to Mass was easy - the kids couldn't wait to put on their Easter clothes and were dressed before breakfast. We were able to leave early enough that we got there before it was completely full.
Seated behind us was a couple with one child who is the same age as Peter. Their son and mine had been baptized at the same ceremony last August. I saw them all the time at this Mass but never sat very close to them. Although the wife appears to be my age (35!) give or take 5 years either way, the husband is salty-haired and has a weathered face. At the baptism, I remembered wondering if he was the grandfather (at a military post, it is not uncommon to see women and children and no dads, not because dad doesn't like going to Mass, but because dad is in Afghanistan or Iraq or some other equally wonderful place), but since I've seen this couple together at many Masses in the last 9 months, I've concluded that they are husband and wife.
Wow, this man was full of joy. I could feel it. It was in his voice as he recited the prayers. It emanated from him and truly warmed my soul. It was like sitting in front of a space heater only instead of pouring out heat, he was radiating love.
I've met very few people capable of transmitting that feeling just by their presence or by reciting rote prayers. It was pretty cool.
All I could think was: here is an older man married to a younger (but not young, let's be honest) woman who is given a gift from God - a baby boy. How could he not be joyous? How wonderful to have a beautiful family even if that precious time in your life didn't come until you thought you'd be too old to enjoy it? Was Abraham half as joy-filled as this man?
After Mass, Bill asked me if I noticed a badge he was wearing. I had, but didn't know what it was. I guess if you've served in the military, you are authorized to wear a badge on your civilian clothes that shows off the highest medal you've acheived. His badge indicated he'd been awarded the Silver Star. I'm willing to bet that he has some interesting stories to tell.
Saying Mass was an older black priest - my favorite here on post. All the other priests skip the Confeitor routinely. He never does. I love this prayer. I've always loved this prayer. It is wonderfully appropriate for Mass during Lent. I was awe-struck at how appropriate it was for Mass on Easter morning. Maybe it was the love-radiator behind me who helped me to feel the grace that accompanies the humility in confessing our sinful nature.
The rest of Mass was the normal routine of pacifying the baby, corralling the toddler and occasionally correcting the behavior of the older children. Bill was distracted by the "deacon" who was wearing a collar and whose stole did not cross his body...but neither of us were able to pay attention (with our eyes) to the consecration to see if he was a deacon or a priest. Very odd. Katie and Fritz stayed in the pew during Communion and got into an argument about who would sit where. I relocated Fritz to a neutral third location, but Katie continued to softly sob because she wanted to sit in my seat and I wouldn't let her. Girls.
At the end of Mass, the man behind me apologized if he contributed to the delinquincy of our toddler. Jenny had charmed the pants off of him with her antics and by amusing his son. Seeing an appreciative audience only inspired her to do more. But he was still exuding joy, so I couldn't be mad at him - or even at Jenny who obviously felt his joi de vivre as well. And then he declared ME a saint. But since I'm not dead, it's pretty easy to argue against that one. Maybe some day. God willing and if the creek don't rise.
Seated behind us was a couple with one child who is the same age as Peter. Their son and mine had been baptized at the same ceremony last August. I saw them all the time at this Mass but never sat very close to them. Although the wife appears to be my age (35!) give or take 5 years either way, the husband is salty-haired and has a weathered face. At the baptism, I remembered wondering if he was the grandfather (at a military post, it is not uncommon to see women and children and no dads, not because dad doesn't like going to Mass, but because dad is in Afghanistan or Iraq or some other equally wonderful place), but since I've seen this couple together at many Masses in the last 9 months, I've concluded that they are husband and wife.
Wow, this man was full of joy. I could feel it. It was in his voice as he recited the prayers. It emanated from him and truly warmed my soul. It was like sitting in front of a space heater only instead of pouring out heat, he was radiating love.
I've met very few people capable of transmitting that feeling just by their presence or by reciting rote prayers. It was pretty cool.
All I could think was: here is an older man married to a younger (but not young, let's be honest) woman who is given a gift from God - a baby boy. How could he not be joyous? How wonderful to have a beautiful family even if that precious time in your life didn't come until you thought you'd be too old to enjoy it? Was Abraham half as joy-filled as this man?
After Mass, Bill asked me if I noticed a badge he was wearing. I had, but didn't know what it was. I guess if you've served in the military, you are authorized to wear a badge on your civilian clothes that shows off the highest medal you've acheived. His badge indicated he'd been awarded the Silver Star. I'm willing to bet that he has some interesting stories to tell.
Saying Mass was an older black priest - my favorite here on post. All the other priests skip the Confeitor routinely. He never does. I love this prayer. I've always loved this prayer. It is wonderfully appropriate for Mass during Lent. I was awe-struck at how appropriate it was for Mass on Easter morning. Maybe it was the love-radiator behind me who helped me to feel the grace that accompanies the humility in confessing our sinful nature.
The rest of Mass was the normal routine of pacifying the baby, corralling the toddler and occasionally correcting the behavior of the older children. Bill was distracted by the "deacon" who was wearing a collar and whose stole did not cross his body...but neither of us were able to pay attention (with our eyes) to the consecration to see if he was a deacon or a priest. Very odd. Katie and Fritz stayed in the pew during Communion and got into an argument about who would sit where. I relocated Fritz to a neutral third location, but Katie continued to softly sob because she wanted to sit in my seat and I wouldn't let her. Girls.
At the end of Mass, the man behind me apologized if he contributed to the delinquincy of our toddler. Jenny had charmed the pants off of him with her antics and by amusing his son. Seeing an appreciative audience only inspired her to do more. But he was still exuding joy, so I couldn't be mad at him - or even at Jenny who obviously felt his joi de vivre as well. And then he declared ME a saint. But since I'm not dead, it's pretty easy to argue against that one. Maybe some day. God willing and if the creek don't rise.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
What's the worst that could happen?
Any mother who ever has that question cross her mind should really think twice before proceeding with something.
I was helping Billy help Jenny who wanted a microwaved pancake. Billy doesn't get much opportunity to use the microwave, so I was giving him instructions from 2 rooms away while doing Katie's hair. I knew this wasn't a good idea, but I asked myself: what's the worst that could happen?
Two minutes later...
"Mom, there's smoke!"
I hope the Lily of the Valley scented candle will improve the odor of my home.
Update: For a while my house smelled of burning Lily of the Valley. But it seems ok now.
I was helping Billy help Jenny who wanted a microwaved pancake. Billy doesn't get much opportunity to use the microwave, so I was giving him instructions from 2 rooms away while doing Katie's hair. I knew this wasn't a good idea, but I asked myself: what's the worst that could happen?
Two minutes later...
"Mom, there's smoke!"
I hope the Lily of the Valley scented candle will improve the odor of my home.
Update: For a while my house smelled of burning Lily of the Valley. But it seems ok now.
seder for Catholics
I've been reading this book, Come to the Table: A Catholic Passover Seder for Holy Week by Meredith Gould.It's pretty neat, and I think I'll incorporate some of the readings into our dinner tonight. The kids know that it's matzohs and grape juice for dinner. They love being able to drink from my real wine glasses (I live life on the edge).
We've spent every Holy Thursday recalling the Israelites Exodus from Egypt and talking about the meaning for us Christians, but I've never used a formal guide.
I am just very sad that Bill will likely not be home in time to eat with us, and probably won't even be able to go to Mass tonight. Since we've had kids, one or the other of us goes to Mass and then the other goes to Eucharistic Adoration after Mass is over. But Bill hasn't been home from work before 7 pm all week, and tonight will probably be the same. But we'll ask ourselves, anyway:
Why is tonight different than all other nights?
Tonight's challenge: make tonight different than all other nights. You don't need to eat lamb and matzohs. Read the story of Exodus. Think about the passing through the Red Sea as a foreshadowing of baptism. And keep watch in the garden, unlike Simon Peter who could not keep watch for one hour (Mark 14:37).
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
collections
The kitchen is half done.
And I've noted a few collections:
16 cookbooks, not including the two I put in the giveaway pile or several (well, 3 or 4 or 5) small paperback ones. But this total does include 2 copies of Joy of Cooking. My old copy is falling apart, but the new revision did some totally different stuff and I don't know if I want to get rid of some of what is found in the old version. I think 16 cookbooks (give or take a few) is reasonable for someone who likes to cook and bake. I do find lots of recipes on-line. I guess my count is 17 if you include my binder with loose recipes.
16 different bottles of booze. I keep saying that I'm going to make myself a nice drink, like a gin and tonic, but it never happens. They just sit there, taunting me. Recently, Bill has been indulging in Manhattens (yuck). I think 3 bottles are for that drink alone.
6 different types of mustard. We like mustard, although we've been consuming one type most often: Schaller & Weber's Bavarian-Style Sweet & Spicy Mustard. yum yum.
4 different types of vinegar. If you've never tried champagne vinegar with tarragon, I highly recommend it for use in salad dressings. Delectable, but expensive.
20 different glasses for wine or cordials or shots...but mostly for beer. Heaven forbid you drink a Guiness out of a Duvel glass or a Chimay out of a pilsner glass.
And I've noted a few collections:
16 cookbooks, not including the two I put in the giveaway pile or several (well, 3 or 4 or 5) small paperback ones. But this total does include 2 copies of Joy of Cooking. My old copy is falling apart, but the new revision did some totally different stuff and I don't know if I want to get rid of some of what is found in the old version. I think 16 cookbooks (give or take a few) is reasonable for someone who likes to cook and bake. I do find lots of recipes on-line. I guess my count is 17 if you include my binder with loose recipes.
16 different bottles of booze. I keep saying that I'm going to make myself a nice drink, like a gin and tonic, but it never happens. They just sit there, taunting me. Recently, Bill has been indulging in Manhattens (yuck). I think 3 bottles are for that drink alone.
6 different types of mustard. We like mustard, although we've been consuming one type most often: Schaller & Weber's Bavarian-Style Sweet & Spicy Mustard. yum yum.
4 different types of vinegar. If you've never tried champagne vinegar with tarragon, I highly recommend it for use in salad dressings. Delectable, but expensive.
20 different glasses for wine or cordials or shots...but mostly for beer. Heaven forbid you drink a Guiness out of a Duvel glass or a Chimay out of a pilsner glass.
wet willy anyone?
Fritz: Mom, do you know what a wet willy is?
Me: Yes.
Fritz: What?
His tone was a challenge. I think he thought I didn't know. I think he thought I might ask him what it was.
My response was to lick my finger and reach for his ear. He ran, calling out: How did you know?
I am old and wise.
Me: Yes.
Fritz: What?
His tone was a challenge. I think he thought I didn't know. I think he thought I might ask him what it was.
My response was to lick my finger and reach for his ear. He ran, calling out: How did you know?
I am old and wise.
Arbeit macht man frei. Gott sei dank.
On tap for today is cleaning the kitchen. I don't think I'm going to get the work done as well as usual. We're moving in a few weeks, and the houses are being demolished, so leaving the cabinets spotless isn't necessary. It seems a bit pointless to spend several hours scrubbing and cleaning if I only get to enjoy it for a short time. I'm going to try to get the fridge and stove done, though. But most important is the sorting and organizing that has been put off. Ugh.
I didn't get much work done yesterday. I was babysitting a neighbor's daughter. Her son was having surgery and she and her husband were at the hospital all day.
I'm falling way behind in a book that Bill and I are reading for Lent: The Power of the Cross by Michael Dubruiel. The only chance we have to do it is at night, but we've both been so exhausted that even if we manage to stay awake for the 10 - 15 minutes it takes to do a day's reading, our comprehension levels are at a pretty low level. In other words, it's doing nothing for us.
But a few days ago, there was the following quote:
But now having been freed from sin and enslaved to God, you derive your benefit, resulting in sanctification, and the outcome, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:22-23
And the discussion question that followed was: What does it mean to be a slave to God?
Slaves don't have a choice in their work. They do as they are told. Their time is not their own, their labor is all at the bidding of the master. Their "free" time is not a right, but a privilege.
Being a slave to God means doing the work that needs doing whether we like it or not. So, Bill is happy that these neighbors will likely move at the end of the summer, because he thinks it means that it is one less person who will say "Help!" and turn to me, his wife, for that help. I think he thinks I do too much. And I do have trouble saying no, even if it means I won't get my spring cleaning done or I'll have to forego attending a monthly meeting that I want to attend.
But I told him that there will always be people who need help, so having these needy neighbors move away won't change much. He could move me to rural Wyoming and as long as I have an internet connection and access to a post office, I'll fill my days with some activity or another (care packages for the troops or something). Because I'm a slave to God. And there are times that it isn't much fun.
Work will make you free. Thank God.
I didn't get much work done yesterday. I was babysitting a neighbor's daughter. Her son was having surgery and she and her husband were at the hospital all day.
I'm falling way behind in a book that Bill and I are reading for Lent: The Power of the Cross by Michael Dubruiel. The only chance we have to do it is at night, but we've both been so exhausted that even if we manage to stay awake for the 10 - 15 minutes it takes to do a day's reading, our comprehension levels are at a pretty low level. In other words, it's doing nothing for us.
But a few days ago, there was the following quote:
But now having been freed from sin and enslaved to God, you derive your benefit, resulting in sanctification, and the outcome, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:22-23
And the discussion question that followed was: What does it mean to be a slave to God?
Slaves don't have a choice in their work. They do as they are told. Their time is not their own, their labor is all at the bidding of the master. Their "free" time is not a right, but a privilege.
Being a slave to God means doing the work that needs doing whether we like it or not. So, Bill is happy that these neighbors will likely move at the end of the summer, because he thinks it means that it is one less person who will say "Help!" and turn to me, his wife, for that help. I think he thinks I do too much. And I do have trouble saying no, even if it means I won't get my spring cleaning done or I'll have to forego attending a monthly meeting that I want to attend.
But I told him that there will always be people who need help, so having these needy neighbors move away won't change much. He could move me to rural Wyoming and as long as I have an internet connection and access to a post office, I'll fill my days with some activity or another (care packages for the troops or something). Because I'm a slave to God. And there are times that it isn't much fun.
Work will make you free. Thank God.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Pray for the Troops
"A world at prayer is a world at peace."
- Father Patrick Peyton
An explanation of a special request for prayers at Catholic Exchange.
And the website with more details.
Pray for the families of deployed soldiers too. Their crosses are very heavy.
- Father Patrick Peyton
An explanation of a special request for prayers at Catholic Exchange.
And the website with more details.
Pray for the families of deployed soldiers too. Their crosses are very heavy.
fighting distraction
Although the entire house is asleep, I find myself fighting a million domestic distractions while praying the rosary.
How will I survive the day's agenda?
How much laundry is piling up?
What am I making for dinner?
Do I have any errands that need to be run?
Will Pete sleep late enough for me to do X and Y AND Z, too?
And as I'm supposed to be mediatating on the last decade - Jesus dies on the cross - I find myself with only 3 more Hail Marys and I don't think I've done an ounce of meditating. I look at the crucifix, and I have this thought:
The women were standing vigil at the cross. It was afternoon and the Sabbath was coming soon. They needed to be home with all their work DONE by sundown. They wouldn't be able to do it the next day, the day of rest. And I really can't imagine that for a minute they thought about the undone laundry or the dough left to rise but never baked or the water that needed fetching. The most important thing for them was to be there at the foot of the cross, praying, weeping, supporting each other.
And why, oh WHY, can I not give 15 minutes of my day to this meditation?
How will I survive the day's agenda?
How much laundry is piling up?
What am I making for dinner?
Do I have any errands that need to be run?
Will Pete sleep late enough for me to do X and Y AND Z, too?
And as I'm supposed to be mediatating on the last decade - Jesus dies on the cross - I find myself with only 3 more Hail Marys and I don't think I've done an ounce of meditating. I look at the crucifix, and I have this thought:
The women were standing vigil at the cross. It was afternoon and the Sabbath was coming soon. They needed to be home with all their work DONE by sundown. They wouldn't be able to do it the next day, the day of rest. And I really can't imagine that for a minute they thought about the undone laundry or the dough left to rise but never baked or the water that needed fetching. The most important thing for them was to be there at the foot of the cross, praying, weeping, supporting each other.
And why, oh WHY, can I not give 15 minutes of my day to this meditation?
Monday, April 10, 2006
a good day
Not a bad morning. All kids' bedrooms done. Bathrooms done. All errands attempted (one failure).
Need to finish my room and tax stuff.
Must get baby to sleep.
dinner........
Need to finish my room and tax stuff.
Must get baby to sleep.
dinner........
about the move
Since Amy asked...about my move and my "pre-move prep ticker":
I live in military housing that is slated to be demolished and replaced with newer housing. I could do a lot of complaining about this here, but maybe I'll save that for another post. It's not my house, so there's not much I can do about it.
Half of my neighborhood has already been relocated to another neighborhood of new housing that is about 3 miles away. Both neighborhoods are on post, but it takes about 10 minutes to get from one area to the other because the speed limits are generally 30 mph or less and there are stop signs and traffic lights along the way.
There are about 25 families still here waiting to be moved. We have been told that today, April 10th, the keys will be available and we can begin to move our things in. Private movers have been hired, and they are responsible for moving all of our stuff, including packing it. Anything we decide to move will be for our own convenience. I plan to move everything in my kitchen, because it will be much easier than sorting and unpacking all those boxes. I also plan to move the drawers and their contents to all the dressers the day before our move so that our clothes won't get packed away.
My move date has been set for April 27th - April 29th. I was at the house yesterday and it looks done (doors were locked, I peeked through the blinds), except for the house number. Other houses on that block are NOT done yet, though, so I don't think I'll be able to get the keys until they're complete (maybe another week). All of my other neighbors live in 2 other blocks, and those look totally done.
The big problem is that we were told the movers can move 4 families per week. We are being told that all families must be out by the end of April. Perhaps as many as 5 families will have Army movers come and take their stuff, because they are moving away this summer. But there are probably 20 families who are supposed to move in 20 days. So, I'm a bit skeptical that I will actually move by the end of April. I'm going to push for it though, because Fritz's First Holy Communion is May 14th and I will not move any later than May 8th (or they'll wait until May 18th).
Since I have movers coming, all I need to do is organize and get rid of things. I have listed every room and broken the room down into "tasks". In my bedroom, I have 2 closets, 1 dresser, 2 end tables with drawers, one small storage table and a cedar chest. That's 7 seven tasks. Completing a task means that I have gone through that closet or dresser and pulled out everything that doesn't belong there and organized what remains. In the kitchen, I've listed each pair of cabinets as a task. Some tasks are 5 minute jobs, and some - like the fridge - will take an hour or more to do (I'll scour the fridge as part of my spring cleaning).
Yesterday I dropped 2 bags of clothes off at the thrift store. I have some toys and books to donate to the babysitting at church today. And I really need to get my tax info to my dad today. Talk about unloading excess baggage!
I live in military housing that is slated to be demolished and replaced with newer housing. I could do a lot of complaining about this here, but maybe I'll save that for another post. It's not my house, so there's not much I can do about it.
Half of my neighborhood has already been relocated to another neighborhood of new housing that is about 3 miles away. Both neighborhoods are on post, but it takes about 10 minutes to get from one area to the other because the speed limits are generally 30 mph or less and there are stop signs and traffic lights along the way.
There are about 25 families still here waiting to be moved. We have been told that today, April 10th, the keys will be available and we can begin to move our things in. Private movers have been hired, and they are responsible for moving all of our stuff, including packing it. Anything we decide to move will be for our own convenience. I plan to move everything in my kitchen, because it will be much easier than sorting and unpacking all those boxes. I also plan to move the drawers and their contents to all the dressers the day before our move so that our clothes won't get packed away.
My move date has been set for April 27th - April 29th. I was at the house yesterday and it looks done (doors were locked, I peeked through the blinds), except for the house number. Other houses on that block are NOT done yet, though, so I don't think I'll be able to get the keys until they're complete (maybe another week). All of my other neighbors live in 2 other blocks, and those look totally done.
The big problem is that we were told the movers can move 4 families per week. We are being told that all families must be out by the end of April. Perhaps as many as 5 families will have Army movers come and take their stuff, because they are moving away this summer. But there are probably 20 families who are supposed to move in 20 days. So, I'm a bit skeptical that I will actually move by the end of April. I'm going to push for it though, because Fritz's First Holy Communion is May 14th and I will not move any later than May 8th (or they'll wait until May 18th).
Since I have movers coming, all I need to do is organize and get rid of things. I have listed every room and broken the room down into "tasks". In my bedroom, I have 2 closets, 1 dresser, 2 end tables with drawers, one small storage table and a cedar chest. That's 7 seven tasks. Completing a task means that I have gone through that closet or dresser and pulled out everything that doesn't belong there and organized what remains. In the kitchen, I've listed each pair of cabinets as a task. Some tasks are 5 minute jobs, and some - like the fridge - will take an hour or more to do (I'll scour the fridge as part of my spring cleaning).
Yesterday I dropped 2 bags of clothes off at the thrift store. I have some toys and books to donate to the babysitting at church today. And I really need to get my tax info to my dad today. Talk about unloading excess baggage!
Spring Cleaning
Need some tips on spring cleaning?
Today's To-Do List:
The 4 Bedrooms: organize, change sheets, clean windows, dust.
The 2 Bathrooms: organize and clean
Errands:
dry cleaners
deliver baked ziti for charity dinner
drop off toys/children's books for church babysitting
Today's To-Do List:
The 4 Bedrooms: organize, change sheets, clean windows, dust.
The 2 Bathrooms: organize and clean
Errands:
dry cleaners
deliver baked ziti for charity dinner
drop off toys/children's books for church babysitting
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Persistence
Persistence is such an admirable trait.
It is the drive that differentiates between a good athlete and an Olympic champion.
It's what gets someone from fry-cook to owner of a chain.
It's what produces great talent out of someone who isn't a "natural" - whether it be in the arena of sports, art, music, or just simply life.
Try, try, again, and eventually, you'll get good.
Persistence is what keeps a mom's hair from going too gray too fast, or her face from getting too wrinkly too soon, or her mind from going bonkers before she hits 40.
Moms need persistence to deal with the never-ending cycle of "Mom can I? - no - please? - no - please? - no - pretty please? - no" or to deal with a toddler's tornado-like ability to wreak havoc on a calm and clean household. Well, a mom doesn't really need persistence, but if she doesn't have it, she will be more likely to respond to such situations with yelling and pulling her hair out.
Persistence is a virtue in the adult world. I think I have a lot of persistence. I can blithely say no for the 239th time to a lollipop before dinner, and I'm pretty amused and amazed at my children's repeated requests for something as if the world changed in the last 5 minutes making roller-blading down the park slide a safe thing to do or whatever. As long as the badgering is polite and not whiny or abusive, we can play the game all day. I will admit, though, that if all 4 kids hit me at once, I have to start doling out time in the penalty box. There is a limit to my sanity and peace of mind.
Persistence, however, in a child is not appreciated as a virtue. The child who can ask 239 times for a lollipop before dinner is usually considered annoying, not admirable. Moms don't really want persistent juveniles, but of course would want persistent adult children. Or rather, we want our children to be persistent when learning to play a musical instrument or learning to hit a tennis ball or struggling with math or soliciting customers for their lawn mowing business. But we don't want them to be persistent when they want to do things we don't want them to do.
Well, a persistent kid is a persistent kid in all (or most) things. The key is to focus on the positive - think to the future! Know that their persistence really needs to be encouraged, so that it will develop into a strong and admirable adult trait.
This is a pep rally for me. All of my kids are persistent. Some more so than others. Billy is particularly persistent when he wants something. Jenny isn't often willing to accept no for an answer.
And Pete, only 9 months old is beginning to show early signs of persistence. He knows where the toilet paper can be found and that, if he manages to get a loose end, he can unroll the whole thing. He knows where the toy room is and gets really upset if his siblings close the door to keep him out. And he knows where Katie's Playmobile palace is and boy, oh boy, does he want to play with all those cool little pieces, especially those itty bitty flowers that roll so nicely on his tongue. And if mommy sits in front of the palace to block his access, he will crawl all over her and fight like mad to try to get around her.
Yes, persistence is the hallmark of the most successful people in the world. Persistence is good...persistence is good...persistence is good...
It is the drive that differentiates between a good athlete and an Olympic champion.
It's what gets someone from fry-cook to owner of a chain.
It's what produces great talent out of someone who isn't a "natural" - whether it be in the arena of sports, art, music, or just simply life.
Try, try, again, and eventually, you'll get good.
Persistence is what keeps a mom's hair from going too gray too fast, or her face from getting too wrinkly too soon, or her mind from going bonkers before she hits 40.
Moms need persistence to deal with the never-ending cycle of "Mom can I? - no - please? - no - please? - no - pretty please? - no" or to deal with a toddler's tornado-like ability to wreak havoc on a calm and clean household. Well, a mom doesn't really need persistence, but if she doesn't have it, she will be more likely to respond to such situations with yelling and pulling her hair out.
Persistence is a virtue in the adult world. I think I have a lot of persistence. I can blithely say no for the 239th time to a lollipop before dinner, and I'm pretty amused and amazed at my children's repeated requests for something as if the world changed in the last 5 minutes making roller-blading down the park slide a safe thing to do or whatever. As long as the badgering is polite and not whiny or abusive, we can play the game all day. I will admit, though, that if all 4 kids hit me at once, I have to start doling out time in the penalty box. There is a limit to my sanity and peace of mind.
Persistence, however, in a child is not appreciated as a virtue. The child who can ask 239 times for a lollipop before dinner is usually considered annoying, not admirable. Moms don't really want persistent juveniles, but of course would want persistent adult children. Or rather, we want our children to be persistent when learning to play a musical instrument or learning to hit a tennis ball or struggling with math or soliciting customers for their lawn mowing business. But we don't want them to be persistent when they want to do things we don't want them to do.
Well, a persistent kid is a persistent kid in all (or most) things. The key is to focus on the positive - think to the future! Know that their persistence really needs to be encouraged, so that it will develop into a strong and admirable adult trait.
This is a pep rally for me. All of my kids are persistent. Some more so than others. Billy is particularly persistent when he wants something. Jenny isn't often willing to accept no for an answer.
And Pete, only 9 months old is beginning to show early signs of persistence. He knows where the toilet paper can be found and that, if he manages to get a loose end, he can unroll the whole thing. He knows where the toy room is and gets really upset if his siblings close the door to keep him out. And he knows where Katie's Playmobile palace is and boy, oh boy, does he want to play with all those cool little pieces, especially those itty bitty flowers that roll so nicely on his tongue. And if mommy sits in front of the palace to block his access, he will crawl all over her and fight like mad to try to get around her.
Yes, persistence is the hallmark of the most successful people in the world. Persistence is good...persistence is good...persistence is good...
Friday, April 07, 2006
happy birthday to me
Today is my birthday. I'm 35 years old.
No, no, it's ok. I don't expect anyone to know or remember my birthday (well, except for my immediate family). I realize that I'm not the center of anyone else's universe. And I don't know the birthdays of even close friends, so it's ok if they don't know mine.
Usually, my birthday is pretty awful anyway. It's not that bad things happen, it's just that it doesn't feel like a special day. It's just life as usual.
Last year, for example, there was a mandatory meeting for parents with children in the baseball program on my birthday. It was at 6 pm. I didn't want to cook on my birthday, so we went out to eat. But Bill didn't get home until about 530 pm, so dinner was drive-through Wendy's which we ate in the parking lot. Bill then got into his car (we brought 2 cars) and went to the meeting, while my 4 little children and my swollen pregnant belly and I went to Baskin Robbins for ice cream. And Bill ordered me some gifts, but they were late (because he waited until the last minute, of course).
This is my typical birthday.
But this year, probably because he knew he had no free time and also because there are stores like Hallmark and CVS and others right inside the Pentagon where he has a lot of downtime, Bill took care of everything in advance, and I'm having the best birthday ever.
First of all, he wished me a happy birthday as he was kissing me good morning. Then, when I joined him downstairs for breakfast, I saw 2 presents and a card on the dining room table. Wow. Here's one of my presents:
To understand this, let's go back a few nights. I was cutting fruit to make a salad for breakfast the next day. I was careless. I sliced my finger - badly enough to need stitches. I went to the emergency room (drove myself!), but when I got there, I thought that it had started to heal. I told myself I was being a wimp (I've never had stitches) and carried on. But when I got to the actual waiting room and saw how crowded it was for 930 pm, I decided that I had better things to do and went home. I searched our first aid supplies and realized that we didn't have gauze and adhesive tape. As I put a bandaid on, I grumbled to Bill that we needed better supplies for the next time. He also said that it was a good thing that he hadn't bought me those knives I wanted for my birthday. I agreed. Surely, if I were using real good sharp knives, I would be missing the tip of my pointer finger.
My other present was a set of real good sharp knives.
Gosh, I don't even want to know how much they cost. But I am so happy to be able to get rid of the haphazard, eclectic and less-than effective collection I currently use.
But the morning gets better. Shortly after he left, Fritz woke up and presented me with a card (bought by Dad at the Pentagon) and signed by him.
About a half hour later, Jenny woke up. She came downstairs, gave me hugs and kisses and smiles and sat on my lap for several minutes. Oh, she's no longer a baby, but I love this cuddling that I get most mornings. And then she remembered something and went back upstairs. I was worried that she was going to wake the baby or her sister or make some mess...I almost called her back. But she came down a minute later and presented me with a card! So sweet.
Then Billy and then Katie followed with their cards. I guess at bedtime last night there was whispering and conspiring that I managed to miss. That's pretty amazing.
After everyone was awake, Fritz played "Happy Birthday" on the piano and everybody sang to me. Very cute. And, yes, a very happy day.
No, no, it's ok. I don't expect anyone to know or remember my birthday (well, except for my immediate family). I realize that I'm not the center of anyone else's universe. And I don't know the birthdays of even close friends, so it's ok if they don't know mine.
Usually, my birthday is pretty awful anyway. It's not that bad things happen, it's just that it doesn't feel like a special day. It's just life as usual.
Last year, for example, there was a mandatory meeting for parents with children in the baseball program on my birthday. It was at 6 pm. I didn't want to cook on my birthday, so we went out to eat. But Bill didn't get home until about 530 pm, so dinner was drive-through Wendy's which we ate in the parking lot. Bill then got into his car (we brought 2 cars) and went to the meeting, while my 4 little children and my swollen pregnant belly and I went to Baskin Robbins for ice cream. And Bill ordered me some gifts, but they were late (because he waited until the last minute, of course).
This is my typical birthday.
But this year, probably because he knew he had no free time and also because there are stores like Hallmark and CVS and others right inside the Pentagon where he has a lot of downtime, Bill took care of everything in advance, and I'm having the best birthday ever.
First of all, he wished me a happy birthday as he was kissing me good morning. Then, when I joined him downstairs for breakfast, I saw 2 presents and a card on the dining room table. Wow. Here's one of my presents:
To understand this, let's go back a few nights. I was cutting fruit to make a salad for breakfast the next day. I was careless. I sliced my finger - badly enough to need stitches. I went to the emergency room (drove myself!), but when I got there, I thought that it had started to heal. I told myself I was being a wimp (I've never had stitches) and carried on. But when I got to the actual waiting room and saw how crowded it was for 930 pm, I decided that I had better things to do and went home. I searched our first aid supplies and realized that we didn't have gauze and adhesive tape. As I put a bandaid on, I grumbled to Bill that we needed better supplies for the next time. He also said that it was a good thing that he hadn't bought me those knives I wanted for my birthday. I agreed. Surely, if I were using real good sharp knives, I would be missing the tip of my pointer finger.
My other present was a set of real good sharp knives.
Gosh, I don't even want to know how much they cost. But I am so happy to be able to get rid of the haphazard, eclectic and less-than effective collection I currently use.
But the morning gets better. Shortly after he left, Fritz woke up and presented me with a card (bought by Dad at the Pentagon) and signed by him.
About a half hour later, Jenny woke up. She came downstairs, gave me hugs and kisses and smiles and sat on my lap for several minutes. Oh, she's no longer a baby, but I love this cuddling that I get most mornings. And then she remembered something and went back upstairs. I was worried that she was going to wake the baby or her sister or make some mess...I almost called her back. But she came down a minute later and presented me with a card! So sweet.
Then Billy and then Katie followed with their cards. I guess at bedtime last night there was whispering and conspiring that I managed to miss. That's pretty amazing.
After everyone was awake, Fritz played "Happy Birthday" on the piano and everybody sang to me. Very cute. And, yes, a very happy day.
Holy Week Meme
...even though it's not...yet...Holy Week.
Tagged by SFO Mom.
Lent is almost over and this Sunday is Palm Sunday already! I thought it would be fun to share what we do special to commemorate the Passion and Resurrection of Our Lord.
1. What do you do with your new blessed palm from Palm Sunday? It goes behind the crucifix on our dining room wall. If we have more than one, I'll put them behind other crucifixes or our big icon from Kosovo (known to Bill and I as THE Icon).
2. What do you do with your old one from last year? I burn it and put the ashes in my garden.
3. What do you do during Holy Week in preparation for Good Friday? Spring cleaning to rival that of any kosher Jew, watch The Passion of the Christ, have a special Holy Thursday dinner with lamb, matzohs, and sparkling grape juice, put purple cloths over the icons and crosses, night prayer vigil until midnight.
4. How do you commemorate Christ's Passion on Good Friday? No TV or computer, Stations of the Cross at noon stopping after the 11th station and completing them at 3 pm, strict fast (bread and water).
5. When do you color Easter eggs? Holy Saturday afternoon. I let Bill do most of the work with the kids. We've done pysanki in the past - I love it. But our kit is buried and I'm not digging it out due to our impeding move. Maybe next year.
6. When do you buy Easter candy? Sometime when I don't have the kids in tow. I guess I'll try to do it this weekend.
7. What is the first thing you plan to do Easter morning? Wake up! Then eat some candy for breakfast before going to Mass (I'll be sure to wait an hour!). This year, I offered to provide some food for the people who have to work at my husband's office on Easter Sunday, so we have to run that up right after Mass. And then we'll have a buffet spread at my house with Bill's parents and siblings and two families whose head-of-house is deployed and any other bachelors (geo- or otherwise) that Bill knows.
Tag, You're It!
Amy at Raising Angels
Maureen at Trinity Prep School
Michelle at Running Commentary (once a Catholic, always a Catholic!)
and I'd really like to know what Satan's plans are.
Tagged by SFO Mom.
Lent is almost over and this Sunday is Palm Sunday already! I thought it would be fun to share what we do special to commemorate the Passion and Resurrection of Our Lord.
1. What do you do with your new blessed palm from Palm Sunday? It goes behind the crucifix on our dining room wall. If we have more than one, I'll put them behind other crucifixes or our big icon from Kosovo (known to Bill and I as THE Icon).
2. What do you do with your old one from last year? I burn it and put the ashes in my garden.
3. What do you do during Holy Week in preparation for Good Friday? Spring cleaning to rival that of any kosher Jew, watch The Passion of the Christ, have a special Holy Thursday dinner with lamb, matzohs, and sparkling grape juice, put purple cloths over the icons and crosses, night prayer vigil until midnight.
4. How do you commemorate Christ's Passion on Good Friday? No TV or computer, Stations of the Cross at noon stopping after the 11th station and completing them at 3 pm, strict fast (bread and water).
5. When do you color Easter eggs? Holy Saturday afternoon. I let Bill do most of the work with the kids. We've done pysanki in the past - I love it. But our kit is buried and I'm not digging it out due to our impeding move. Maybe next year.
6. When do you buy Easter candy? Sometime when I don't have the kids in tow. I guess I'll try to do it this weekend.
7. What is the first thing you plan to do Easter morning? Wake up! Then eat some candy for breakfast before going to Mass (I'll be sure to wait an hour!). This year, I offered to provide some food for the people who have to work at my husband's office on Easter Sunday, so we have to run that up right after Mass. And then we'll have a buffet spread at my house with Bill's parents and siblings and two families whose head-of-house is deployed and any other bachelors (geo- or otherwise) that Bill knows.
Tag, You're It!
Amy at Raising Angels
Maureen at Trinity Prep School
Michelle at Running Commentary (once a Catholic, always a Catholic!)
and I'd really like to know what Satan's plans are.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
bashing gnosticism
A homily from the Gospel of Judas:
It's ok that Judas betrayed Jesus, because he was helping in God's plan for salvation.
And all my sins, past and present, are ok, because they brought me to where I am today and made me who I am, who I need to be, to fulfill God's plan for me.
And all your sins, even the ones that hurt me, are ok, because you're just fulfilling God's plan for you.
In fact, you really don't have any control over your life at all. Just do whatever, because God will manipulate whatever you do to fit His divine purposes.
Reality check: this makes no sense.
I spent years trying to prove Catholicism was WRONG. Once I started to test to see if it was RIGHT, I couldn't get it to flunk. Of course, you have to follow an argument logically - you can't jump into the middle of an issue like capital punishment and expect to find understanding. You could begin with capital punishment, but you'd have to work the logic backwards. It would take some time and patience. Or I suppose you could just read Thomas Aquinas who did much of that footwork for us.
But back to the Gospel of Judas. From a personal standpoint, everything sounds great. It's OK if I commit adultery. God must have wanted me to have a relationship with this person or He wouldn't have put him in my life. It's OK if YOU commit adultery. It's none of my business. But...is it OK if my husband commits adultery? If my marriage is the victim, could I be so happy to let God's will be done? Of course not.
So, out goes Judas' Gospel. It doesn't make sense...not in a baffling God's-mysterious-ways kind of way, but in a practical, everyday sort of way. "Treat others the way you want to be treated" - that works. "It's OK to sin because it's God's will" - that doesn't.
It's ok that Judas betrayed Jesus, because he was helping in God's plan for salvation.
And all my sins, past and present, are ok, because they brought me to where I am today and made me who I am, who I need to be, to fulfill God's plan for me.
And all your sins, even the ones that hurt me, are ok, because you're just fulfilling God's plan for you.
In fact, you really don't have any control over your life at all. Just do whatever, because God will manipulate whatever you do to fit His divine purposes.
Reality check: this makes no sense.
I spent years trying to prove Catholicism was WRONG. Once I started to test to see if it was RIGHT, I couldn't get it to flunk. Of course, you have to follow an argument logically - you can't jump into the middle of an issue like capital punishment and expect to find understanding. You could begin with capital punishment, but you'd have to work the logic backwards. It would take some time and patience. Or I suppose you could just read Thomas Aquinas who did much of that footwork for us.
But back to the Gospel of Judas. From a personal standpoint, everything sounds great. It's OK if I commit adultery. God must have wanted me to have a relationship with this person or He wouldn't have put him in my life. It's OK if YOU commit adultery. It's none of my business. But...is it OK if my husband commits adultery? If my marriage is the victim, could I be so happy to let God's will be done? Of course not.
So, out goes Judas' Gospel. It doesn't make sense...not in a baffling God's-mysterious-ways kind of way, but in a practical, everyday sort of way. "Treat others the way you want to be treated" - that works. "It's OK to sin because it's God's will" - that doesn't.
battle gear (life is a battle)
Yesterday I wished for the Army uniform in other colors. My husband informed me that I could get it here. Unfortunately, it's the old-style uniform, and I think the new style is better. I'm considering the shorts, though. The pockets aren't big enough for diapers, but they could hold just about everything else. Like I need to make my hips look wider...
...I didn't see any sippy cups with carabiner clips, but I also got pretty bored looking at pages and pages of gear: camo face paint kits, bayonets, firestarters! This is not a website for boys between the ages of 10 and 15. Maybe I'll get some tried and true canteens and hook them on. Bill has a Camelbak, but the kids with the crumb-filled mouths will likely gunk up the tubing.
...I didn't see any sippy cups with carabiner clips, but I also got pretty bored looking at pages and pages of gear: camo face paint kits, bayonets, firestarters! This is not a website for boys between the ages of 10 and 15. Maybe I'll get some tried and true canteens and hook them on. Bill has a Camelbak, but the kids with the crumb-filled mouths will likely gunk up the tubing.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
national security
Recently, Bill has been filling out a form to apply for a higher security clearance. You have to include the names, addresses and phone numbers of dozens of people: neighbors, friends, relatives. They want to know every address going back quite a number of years. They want to know people who knew you when you lived there. It's insane.
Bill is helped by having filled it out several years ago and having kept that last form. So the names and addresses of neighbors from that house or this apartment are already done.
This afternoon, a man rang the doorbell. He presented an ID and asked if he could ask some questions about a neighbor. I guess our neighbor filled out a similar form for something - security clearance or a certain job or whatever. I don't know if he used our name specifically, or if the man just drove to our neighborhood and looked for somebody who was home.
Have I ever seen him intoxicated?
Do I know if he drinks?
Uses drugs?
Does he live within his means?
Have foreign connections?
Is he married?
Is his wife American?
Has he ever tried to overthrow the government (we BOTH laughed at that question)?
What kind of reputation does he have?
Do I know of anyone trying to blackmail him?
I found it all pretty amusing, especially when I thought of someone being asked those questions of my husband.
So, folks, this is what people go through to get the top jobs, to get the top secrets. It's kind of hard to get to the top in the government as a spy...it happens, I know. But this is the kind of scrutiny that's given. Interesting.
Bill is helped by having filled it out several years ago and having kept that last form. So the names and addresses of neighbors from that house or this apartment are already done.
This afternoon, a man rang the doorbell. He presented an ID and asked if he could ask some questions about a neighbor. I guess our neighbor filled out a similar form for something - security clearance or a certain job or whatever. I don't know if he used our name specifically, or if the man just drove to our neighborhood and looked for somebody who was home.
Have I ever seen him intoxicated?
Do I know if he drinks?
Uses drugs?
Does he live within his means?
Have foreign connections?
Is he married?
Is his wife American?
Has he ever tried to overthrow the government (we BOTH laughed at that question)?
What kind of reputation does he have?
Do I know of anyone trying to blackmail him?
I found it all pretty amusing, especially when I thought of someone being asked those questions of my husband.
So, folks, this is what people go through to get the top jobs, to get the top secrets. It's kind of hard to get to the top in the government as a spy...it happens, I know. But this is the kind of scrutiny that's given. Interesting.
pretty please with sugar on top...and a cherry
The daily ritual.
Billy: MOM, MOM, MOM, I can't get a bowl down!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: What would you like me to do?
Billy: Get me a bowl.
Me: (intent staring)
Billy: Please.
Me: Please, what?
Billy: Please get me a bowl down.
Me: Sure, honey. Here you go.
Billy: I want Coco Puffs.
Me: (intently staring)
Billy: Please.
Me: Please, what?
Billy: Please can I have Coco Puffs?
Me: Sure!
Billy: Ugh, I always forget those words!
Me: That's why I always remind you. Ugh to you!
Billy: MOM, MOM, MOM, I can't get a bowl down!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: What would you like me to do?
Billy: Get me a bowl.
Me: (intent staring)
Billy: Please.
Me: Please, what?
Billy: Please get me a bowl down.
Me: Sure, honey. Here you go.
Billy: I want Coco Puffs.
Me: (intently staring)
Billy: Please.
Me: Please, what?
Billy: Please can I have Coco Puffs?
Me: Sure!
Billy: Ugh, I always forget those words!
Me: That's why I always remind you. Ugh to you!
Lent - real life application
God has given Bill and I a really big issue to deal with this Lent.
We had a LOT of money stolen from us. By a friend.
I won't go into details, but it's a high enough amount that our ability to pay our bills has been affected. It really stinks.
The issue is not what to do. I guess there might be some debate about what legal action to take. I've been arguing that legal action will only waste more of our money. A judge will rule in our favor, but it's not like there's money in the bank, you know? It's not like the person has a brand-new BMW that we could put a lien on.
The real issue is how to deal with the anger.
Bill wrote an email which vented his anger. It said all the nasty things and called all the nasty names that he could think of. He didn't send it, of course. (My outgoing email problem has not been resolved - still...talk about needing a class on anger management!!!...but it's good, because he just might have, oops, sent it). He actually had to get up and walk away from the email, though, because he recognized it for what it was - just plain nastiness.
I think he felt better though getting his feelings expressed, even if it was just to me and to God. He told me, "I feel like I got punched in the jaw." I said, "You got slapped on the cheek." But we agree, turning and offering the other cheek - which to me means getting over the anger - is so very hard.
We want satisfaction, retribution, justice. Most of our anger stems from not being able to attain that. Forgiveness is so much easier when wrongs can be righted. Repay the debt, and you'll be forgiven. Pay for the damage, return the stolen property, say I'm sorry...and then we can be friends again.
But here I have to forgive someone who can't fix it. And that, more than any rosaries or fasts or tithes, is Lent, practically applied.
We had a LOT of money stolen from us. By a friend.
I won't go into details, but it's a high enough amount that our ability to pay our bills has been affected. It really stinks.
The issue is not what to do. I guess there might be some debate about what legal action to take. I've been arguing that legal action will only waste more of our money. A judge will rule in our favor, but it's not like there's money in the bank, you know? It's not like the person has a brand-new BMW that we could put a lien on.
The real issue is how to deal with the anger.
Bill wrote an email which vented his anger. It said all the nasty things and called all the nasty names that he could think of. He didn't send it, of course. (My outgoing email problem has not been resolved - still...talk about needing a class on anger management!!!...but it's good, because he just might have, oops, sent it). He actually had to get up and walk away from the email, though, because he recognized it for what it was - just plain nastiness.
I think he felt better though getting his feelings expressed, even if it was just to me and to God. He told me, "I feel like I got punched in the jaw." I said, "You got slapped on the cheek." But we agree, turning and offering the other cheek - which to me means getting over the anger - is so very hard.
We want satisfaction, retribution, justice. Most of our anger stems from not being able to attain that. Forgiveness is so much easier when wrongs can be righted. Repay the debt, and you'll be forgiven. Pay for the damage, return the stolen property, say I'm sorry...and then we can be friends again.
But here I have to forgive someone who can't fix it. And that, more than any rosaries or fasts or tithes, is Lent, practically applied.
technology overload
The top of our microwave is our "readiness center". It's key storage, cell phone storage (and power station), need-to-take-with-me-tomorrow storage. Occasionally other things get dumped there too, but I try to keep it tidy and uncluttered so you can find the important stuff.
Last night Bill was trying to find room for all his electronic gadgets, some of which needed to be charged. It was frustrating for him. I would have helped, but I was trying to slice fruit for breakfast.
Unhelpful Wife: "You have too many gadgets."
Unhappy Husband: "I have exactly how many gadgets I need for my job!"
Well, he has one extra gadget than his day-job requires...but I want him to have it for me: his cell phone. I do like to be able to reach him, especially to find out if he'll be home in time to take a child to some activity!
Being a general's assistant executive officer requires him to have a Blackberry and a cell phone (in case the Blackberry doesn't have coverage - a bit of overkill, I think). And since he is required to pay for all personal calls made or received on his work cell phone, he has his own (he already had it anyway, so no change there).
It's a good thing those uniforms have so many pockets. In fact, if they made those shirts in a lighter fabric in a nice blue color, I might get one. And the pockets on the pants are definitely big enough for a diaper and a small pack of baby wipes. Then I would just need to find sippy cups with carabiner clips to hook on my belt loops and I'd be free from toting a diaper bag around. This would allow me to chase wayward children who wander into parking lots.
Technologically speaking, I'm a bit slow on what the different things do nowadays. (Boy, do I sound old or what?) Seriously, I can't tell you the difference between an MP3 and a CD. I really don't know why anyone would want to take photos with their cell phone (a digital camera is much better). And I don't feel the need to receive (or send) text messages while I'm at the grocery store.
But I do like the Blackberry. And so does Bill. He gets stuck outside meetings all the time waiting for his boss. And while he waits, he goes through his email (most of which is work related) and he does his job. But he can also get my notes, and links to amusing articles I send to him. He doesn't always have the time to read them or respond to them, but it's nice having that open line.
Last night Bill was trying to find room for all his electronic gadgets, some of which needed to be charged. It was frustrating for him. I would have helped, but I was trying to slice fruit for breakfast.
Unhelpful Wife: "You have too many gadgets."
Unhappy Husband: "I have exactly how many gadgets I need for my job!"
Well, he has one extra gadget than his day-job requires...but I want him to have it for me: his cell phone. I do like to be able to reach him, especially to find out if he'll be home in time to take a child to some activity!
Being a general's assistant executive officer requires him to have a Blackberry and a cell phone (in case the Blackberry doesn't have coverage - a bit of overkill, I think). And since he is required to pay for all personal calls made or received on his work cell phone, he has his own (he already had it anyway, so no change there).
It's a good thing those uniforms have so many pockets. In fact, if they made those shirts in a lighter fabric in a nice blue color, I might get one. And the pockets on the pants are definitely big enough for a diaper and a small pack of baby wipes. Then I would just need to find sippy cups with carabiner clips to hook on my belt loops and I'd be free from toting a diaper bag around. This would allow me to chase wayward children who wander into parking lots.
Technologically speaking, I'm a bit slow on what the different things do nowadays. (Boy, do I sound old or what?) Seriously, I can't tell you the difference between an MP3 and a CD. I really don't know why anyone would want to take photos with their cell phone (a digital camera is much better). And I don't feel the need to receive (or send) text messages while I'm at the grocery store.
But I do like the Blackberry. And so does Bill. He gets stuck outside meetings all the time waiting for his boss. And while he waits, he goes through his email (most of which is work related) and he does his job. But he can also get my notes, and links to amusing articles I send to him. He doesn't always have the time to read them or respond to them, but it's nice having that open line.
Ode to Manhood
Here's a nice posting on being a real man, not a guy:
And I offer a cheer to my husband, who isn't perfect, but whose imperfection generally stems from not being womanly enough...and that's ok!
Finally, as a great writer once said, "If my father was the head of the house, my mother was its heart." A man isn't the soft comforting lap the kids sit on to be rocked to sleep, or the kiss that makes owwies all better. He may be called on to do those things sometimes, but he's not really constructed for it. A man is the solidity in his family, the rock that can't be broken. He's also the wall that shields them from storms, and the roof that keeps their heads dry. Which usually means getting rained on or wind-beaten himself. If you don't do that, a woman has to, and it's something they're not constructed for.
And I offer a cheer to my husband, who isn't perfect, but whose imperfection generally stems from not being womanly enough...and that's ok!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
off with her head
My body feels normal from the neck down. I just wish I could take my head off.
This begins my third day with a sore throat. All the glands, lymph nodes or whatever around my neck are swollen and tender. My head hurts. I'm tired.
Just decapitate me. I'll feel much better.
This begins my third day with a sore throat. All the glands, lymph nodes or whatever around my neck are swollen and tender. My head hurts. I'm tired.
Just decapitate me. I'll feel much better.
Monday, April 03, 2006
April Fools
There are some pretty funny stories here about real April Fool's Day jokes played by the media on the unsuspecting population.
Thanks to Eric Scheske.
Thanks to Eric Scheske.
one year and a day
May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.
Missing you.
more pictures
A few more pictures.
Billy kept telling me, "Look, Mom." And I kept saying, "No! I'm looking at my daughter (who is about to fall into the tidal basin)." Bill's picture shows me saying this (impatiently) for about the fifth time.
And Pete decided he'd be social this day. He made the day of an elderly man by practicing his new thing: nearly waving (whereby he raises his arm, but can't do the motion part).
Billy kept telling me, "Look, Mom." And I kept saying, "No! I'm looking at my daughter (who is about to fall into the tidal basin)." Bill's picture shows me saying this (impatiently) for about the fifth time.
And Pete decided he'd be social this day. He made the day of an elderly man by practicing his new thing: nearly waving (whereby he raises his arm, but can't do the motion part).
cherry blossoms
Cherry blossoms in full bloom this weekend.
We sat in stop and rarely go traffic for more than an hour and a half. No kidding. We ate our picnic lunch in the car.
And Moby was running at nearly full capacity - eleven of us piled in!
Here is Jenny-Of-The-Filthy-Face and
Bill and his sister Margaret with most of the kids. Katie is a mini-Margaret. There is no doubt that she's my husband's child (not that there ever WAS a doubt...).
And here are our friends: Caleb and little Josh and mom Stacy. In the traffic, while we ate lunch, I HAD to pull Pete out of his seat and nurse him. I was sandwiched between the two rear-facing car seats in the row behind the driver. It was tight. Pete fell asleep, thankfully. But then Josh started to cry. Stacy and I somehow managed to switch seats (she was in the front passenger seat) and she pulled Josh out.
Meanwhile, Fritz said he had to go to the bathroom, so poor Margaret in the back row had to hold a cup for him. What fun.
I had considered taking the metro, but we really needed the strollers and that makes travel a bit more difficult. If it were just one kid in a small stroller, no problem...but double strollers are a bit unwieldy.
brotherly love
The great thing about having older children is that they can do this.
My old back is spared and two brothers have a great time.
And toddlers are handy for that game babies play where they throw something on the ground and have you pick it up and give it back to them...only to have them throw it on the ground again...repeat...repeat...repeat...
technical difficulties
My internet provider is having trouble and so I can't send outgoing emails without performing technical gymnastics. Since there are some emails that I HAVE to reply to in a timely manner, my energy and patience is sapped. So, something I normally enjoy becomes tedious. If you don't hear from me (hey, Barb, thanks for that recipe), don't take it personally.
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