Merry Michaelmas!

Be sure to eat some blackberries...

According to an old Irish folk tale, blackberries were supposed to have been harvested and used up by this date, too, since it is told to children that when Satan was kicked out of Heaven, he landed in a bramble patch -- and returns each year to curse and spit on the fruits of the plant he landed on, rendering them inedible thereafter. So a dessert with blackberries would be perfect.

St. Michael the Archangel, protect us!

To-Do List: Oktoberfest

Clean House
Re-Clean House
Pay Bills
Cook Sauerbraten (half done)
Make potato salad (potatoes are cooked)
Make red cabbage
Thaw hot dogs and bratwurst
Reevaluate supplies (do I have enough for 120+ people?)
Make last minute shopping list (ice, more soda, rolls...)
Hang blue and white crepe paper throughout house
Make 90% of children's toys inaccessible for the party
School????????

The best ever pumpkin bread

Theory: 1 + 5 = 0

Proof:

take 1 mini-loaf of this pumpkin bread
add 5 hungry children
you will have 0 crumbs


Pete is willing to risk another broken arm to get to the pumpkin bread.

This is good stuff.

How much can he shove into his mouth? All of it!


Now if that recipe scares you (a whole cup of oil...3 cups of sugar!!), I have been experimenting with healthier substitutions.

The first thing I did was use 2 cups of whole wheat flour and 1 1/2 cups of regular flour. There was very little difference in the taste.

Next I reduced the amount of sugar to 2 1/2 cups, cut the amount of oil to 1/2 cup, and used 1/2 cup applesauce. Compared to the original, there is a taste difference, but the kids haven't noticed it, and it doesn't bother me.

Bill, who looked at me like I was a lunatic for even attempting to alter the original recipe...I mean, why oh why would I take a perfectly yummy recipe and ruin it by making it healthier, said that the altered recipe was acceptable for daily consumption, it wasn't the same devour-the-whole-loaf-and-beg-for-more kind of recipe. This is the recipe I make in mass quantities at Christmas time and have him give out to co-workers. He's very popular when he makes those rounds, and doesn't want to lose that momentary pied-piper-esque power.

So take his biased opinion for what it's worth.

If you just compare the sugar, oil and flour, the alterations reduce the overall calories by nearly 25%, the fat content by 48%, and the carbs by over 11%. And the flour alteration gives you more than 3 1/2 times the fiber. Since I use this recipe to make mini-muffins as a snack for the kids, these substitutions make a delicious dessert a healthier snack.

Halloween planning

It's unanimous: the kids think Petey should be this for Halloween. Sold out, of course.

Fritz wants to be Obi Wan. Billy wants to be Anakin.

Katie wants to be Princess Leia. Jenny said she wanted to be a kitty-cat, but changed to Princess Leia too.

I tried to convince Billy to be Luke and Fritz to be the older Obi Wan, but noooo... (He doesn't have the right colored light sabre, he says, and I'm not buying another one.)

...I could probably convince Katie to be Princess Amadala, but Princess Leia with the ear-muff hair is such an easy costume. Besides, Princess Leia is much cooler than Princess Amadala who dies of a broken heart...puh-leeeze! Anybody think Princess Leia would die of a broken heart? (And Billy is dead-set against Katie being Princess Amadala, since Katie would feel obliged to try to kiss him, often, and that is just really gross.)

So, it looks like we'll have multi-episode tricker-treaters this year.

Unschooling my preschooler

By the time my first-born child was three years old, he could identify every letter of the alphabet. He could count to twenty. He knew his colors and shapes. He was brilliant, I tell you.

Three months after his third birthday, my mother babysat him and his younger brother while I went off to the hospital to have my first daughter. While my husband and I were gone, my mother taught him how to write his name. I was sure he destined for a future of grandiose intellectual achievements.

That fall, he attended preschool at our church. Where we lived at the time, everybody sent their kiddies off to preschool, and the church's preschool was almost a requirement if you wanted your child to get into the church's elementary school. But sometime during his second year there, we decided to homeschool instead of enrolling him in the parochial school. I considered enrolling Billy that fall so he could have a preschool experience too, but wisely decided that any possible benefits outweighed all the drawbacks.

And so I began homeschooling my kindergarten and my preschooler.

It was an easy year. Fritz's kindergarten program took, at best, about an hour or an hour and a half to do. And Billy had no desire for formal schooling of any kind!

There were times I felt a twinge of guilt that he didn't seem to know his alphabet or his shapes as well as his older brother. I thought I wasn't giving him enough one-on-one time. Then I asked myself: how did Fritz learn all that stuff? Mainly by reading books with me. From the time he was a baby, he didn't want to listen to the story, so we looked at the pictures. Do you see a triangle? I would ask. Do you see a brown dog? Do you see a purple dog? Oh, no! How silly!

But I read books to Billy too. I asked the same kinds of questions. Billy was just a different kid, and our family was not the same family: Fritz did not have an older brother who would set up train tracks or build couch-cushion forts. Billy had a lot more playing to do than Fritz did.

The following year, my oldest was in first grade and I had two preschoolers. This was a challenging year! Katie was different than Billy, and she wanted to be kept busy. She wanted her own notebooks. She wanted her own "homework." And I just wanted her to go and play. The year after that, when I had two who were officially school-aged, was even worse. She demanded more and more time in the classroom, and I demanded more and more time with her out of the classroom.

For her, I finally bought a bunch of preschool workbooks and would give her 4 or 5 pages every day. Sometimes, I would just hand her construction paper and scissors and tell her to make squares or circles. As often as possible, I tried to include her in the lessons for the boys. I assigned her a poem to memorize like the boys. I read the Bible stories to her and had her draw pictures to go with them. I had her doing the phonics based reading lessons until they became too hard, and had her doing the art lessons centered around the letters of the alphabet.

This year, I'm even busier with "real" school as I do third, first and kindergarten. My fourth child is now preschool-aged. And I just want her to go play. She does have some workbooks. She's learning how to use scissors. And we have puzzles, math manipulatives and lots of books to keep her busy. Reading time is now usually only an hour before bedtime shared by all five kids (although Pete doesn't really want me to read the book, he just wants to sit on my lap for a minute pretending that I'm reading to him and then he sits on the floor and proceeds through the book at a pace that suits him).

She can't recognize all the letters of the alphabet, and she's over 3! And she hasn't yet mastered making the letter J for Jenny - not exactly a difficult letter to copy. Yes, there are times I feel she may be getting short-changed. But I know it will even out in the end. Billy picked up on his phonics lessons much faster than Fritz did, perhaps because he had heard the lessons already when I did them with Fritz. Katie seems to be doing well on the lessons that I did with Billy only a year ago. And all of the kids are benefiting from listening to the history and science lessons I give to Fritz (and Fritz benefits from listening to a review of the lessons I give to the younger kids).

Preschool isn't about formal lessons, even if the child is demanding them. The important things they learn at this age are learned through everyday living and interactions. Jenny really wanted to help me in the kitchen the other day. I was slicing onions and could not have her do that. So she kept me company in her usual spot on the other side of the kitchen counter on a kitchen chair. She played with the drinking straws and hid them. She asked me where they were. She found one, and counted one. She found another and counted two. She found another and counted three. I played along, reinforcing her counting, asking her if she had found them all, feigning ignorance over where she had hidden the others.

This is preschool. This is learning in a fun way, using a game of the child's design. The workbooks, the scissors, the pattern blocks - these are all busy work to help me get formal lessons done with the other children. Her education is really happening in the kitchen, or the car, or the backyard.

Troublemakers Anonymous

They say that knowing you have a problem is half the battle. How about knowing you are the problem?

Last night at dinner, Bill and I were discussing children, in general, and difficulties, in general, about having them around.

"He's not the problem," I said, nodding in Pete's direction. I didn't say who was the problem, I didn't even stare at the offending party or parties. But Bill and I traded knowing looks across the dining room table.

"I'm the problem," said Jenny.

"Hmmm...do you think you might someday not be a problem?" I asked.

"Nope," said Jenny.

Great. We may know we have a problem, but the problem is unwilling to change...and that's a problem.

A Dictionary of Modern Baby Talk

(for 12 to 15 month old children and their parents)

Aiyahaahh!!!: 1. A phrase, usually, accompanied with pointing gestures, meaning, "I want that, and I want it now!"

Choo-Choo: 1. Train. 2. The sound a train makes. 3. A phrase meaning, "I am trying to play with my train, why do you insist on trying to change my diaper instead?" 4. A phrase meaning, "No, I won't take a nap, I want to play with my train." 5. A phrase meaning, "I want to play with my trains here in this room, but I am lonely. Stay with me or send me a playmate."

Daddy: 1. Father. 2. A phrase meaning, "I want my father."

Doggy: 1. Greta. 2. Any other canine.

Eeeyaahaa!: 1. A phrase meaning, "Get me out of this high chair right now."

Hat: 1. Something worn on the head. 2. A phrase meaning, "No, I won't wear that." 3. A phrase meaning, "Look, what I stole from my sister! It looks so much better on me, don't you think?"

Juice: 1. A beverage made from fruit. 2. Any beverage. 3. A phrase meaning, "I am thirsty, please may I have something to drink?"

Nose: 1. An organ found in the middle of the face used for smelling. 2. A phrase meaning, "Look where I can stick my finger to elicit funny faces and complaints from all my family members." 3. A phrase meaning, "Bring your face a little closer so I can see how far my finger fits in there."

Ow: 1. An exclamation of pain. 2. A phrase meaning, "I need a kiss right here because I fell down."

Shoes: 1. Clothing worn on the feet. 2. A phrase meaning, "Let's play the switch-footwear game for the next hour!" 3. A phrase meaning, "Good morning, how are you? I'm well rested and can't wait to start the day. Please get me dressed immediately! See, there are my shoes! Breakfast can wait!"

Stinky: 1. A phrase meaning, "I need a diaper change badly." 2. A phrase meaning, "I need a diaper change badly, try and catch me!"

Unhunhunh: 1. A phrase meaning, "I am trying to climb on this chair to reach that high place. Why are you standing there watching me and not helping me?"

Islam Vs. Christianity: Finding Common Ground

If you need a good laugh, go over to Happy Catholic's site and check out the YouTube clip there. I have no idea how to bring it over here.

Warning: having parties may be hazardous to your security clearance

Back in April, I described an interview I had with a man regarding my neighbor who was seeking a high level security clearance. Did I know if he ever tried to overthrow the government? Does he have any foreign interests?

At the time, Bill was filling out a form for a similar clearance. A few days ago, Bill had a face-to-face interview with a woman who went over his form line by line and asked him about every single response.

You didn't write your mother's maiden name down? Why? Are you hiding something?

Oh, no, sorry. I guess I missed that line.

And then she wrote down that he claimed to have forgotten to fill that part in.

Why didn't you write your wife's address in this section?

It says to give the wife's address if we are divorced or separated. We're still married, and my wife lives with me.

You should have written N/A.

And then she wrote down that he felt the section didn't apply to him.

This went on for one agonizing hour. Then she wanted to talk to somebody who has known him since he began working in the building. He called up to his buddy, Brian, with whom he worked for over a year. They shared a desk - literally sat inches away from each other. All phone conversations with my husband that year were three-way conferences by default.

Brian was interviewed in private, but shared some of the better questions with Bill afterward. Basically, they seemed the same as the ones I answered about my neighbor last spring. What makes this particularly amusing is the timing of certain questions.

Not this Saturday, but next, we're having our Third Annual Oktoberfest. Brian attended last year's party, and has already RSVP's for the upcoming event. So far, I have 60 people marked as coming (half of them kids), but I expect more will be calling me over the next few days. Last year we had about 85 people.

The invitation this year, all my design - Bill had nothing to do with it, is full of quotes on the glory of drinking beer. I actually, personally, can't stand the stuff, but it was a funny invitation. Bill suggested that it was too much about beer, so I added a post script: It's not all about beer. We'll have wine and schnapps, too. I thought that was even funnier.

For me, it's all about the food. I'm making Sauerbraten, Hot Potato Salad, and Red Cabbage among other things. Since the vast bulk of our guests are military-types, many of whom have done tours in Germany, my yummy cooking is a big hit. But, honestly, so is the keg of Spaten beer.

And with full knowledge, as a past attendee, of the upcoming festivities, Brian is asked questions like: Does he ever throw parties? Does he ever drink?

Hmmm...

My children make me calmer...

For all those women who think they could "never" handle more than one or two kids, here's a study that suggests the more kids you have, the better a mother you become (if you are a rat, that is):

Hormonal changes occurring in female rats after they give birth to and nurse their offspring may cause long-term endocrine and neuroendocrine changes that help produce better mothering skills with each pregnancy and reduce the mother's anxiety levels as she matures, according to scientists at Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at Tufts University and the University of Otago Medical School.

From Danielle Bean, who really should be napping with her 11 day old son instead of blogging.

Carnival games people play

Bill's all set to win some stuffed toys for the girls next time a carnival comes through town.

His job requires him in the office by 6 AM. Since "rush-hour" begins in this area before 5 am, he needs to leave here between 515 and 530 am to get there in time. Last night, not atypically, he got home at 8 pm. By the time he walked the dog, ate dinner, and glanced through the mail, it was time for bed. This is our sad, usual routine which affords us about 6 hours of sleep before the alarms start going off at 4 am.

Alarms...with an "s".

Bill is a heavy sleeper normally, and when he routinely gets only 6 hours of it, there is no way he will respond to one alarm the first time it goes off. He once had a roommate who would immediately wake up and get out of bed at the first alarm. Bill's solid 45 minutes of hitting the snooze button drove him crazy. Heck, 45 minutes of interrupted sleep drives me crazy too, and he starts getting jabbed in the ribcage after the second or third snooze alarm. I've even been known to push him out of bed or use other even more impolite methods to make him get up. And there is no way I would tolerate the alarm going off at 330 am so he could be sure to be up by 415 am, especially now that I try to get up with him and go for a run while he's getting ready for work.

So, his solution is to have multiple alarms going off in a carefully orchestrated sequence beginning at 4 am. He has a total of 4 alarms on 3 different clocks with 2 different snooze intervals. Basically, we have alarms going off every 2 or 3 minutes, instead of the usual snooze interval of 5 to 9 minutes. Although he is no less exhausted, he is usually irritated enough that he gets up within 15 minutes.

Whatever it takes.

Hence every morning he spends 15 minutes honing his skills at rapidly smacking his various alarms in order to silence the one that is making the racket. Perhaps the carnivals don't offer Whack-a-Clock, but I'm sure Bill will do just fine at Whack-a-Mole.

Grammar problems

I think I need to reconsider the Abeka Language Arts program I'm using.

Abeka is OK. They are fundamentalist Christian types. I don't mind if the kids are learning the calendar in Math and for December, they talk about the birth of Christ and show Nativity scenes. It's nice.

This is the first year that my curriculum calls for Abeka in Science. I don't mind that it says "God gave us eyes to see...etc." It's nice.

I decided to also use their Language Arts, on the recommendation of my very good friend and fellow homeschooler, whose oldest daughter is in the 6th grade. This friend is a devout Catholic and a former schoolteacher. I trust her judgment. I need a grammar program outside of what my curriculum offers, because I fear the standardized tests that are required by the state. My kids must pass! Grammar is a big component of these tests.

Today, Fritz will learn that the months of the year and the days of the week are always capitalized. He has already learned that the word "I" is capitalized. He will practice on sentences like: I was saved on the first Friday in July. And: All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

Hmmm....maybe I'll go browse over at Seton later.

Always on my mind

I just got a forwarded email about Kotex-brand feminine products which apparently were offering tips on the pull-off adhesive backing strips for how to have a better, healthier time of the month. I can not confirm or deny the existence of these friendly ideas, since I don't use that brand. According to the email, drinking extra water, avoiding caffeine, and getting exercise were all suggested as ways to feel better.

You can imagine that the female author of this email was not in support of these tips and felt that eating chocolate, curling up in a fetal position and crying was a much better way to handle the hormonal cycles. The author also suggested that providing Pamprin and a shot of Bourbon in the packages (which she also felt should be plainly wrapped and not all colorful and flowery) was a much better marketing tool...and she considered switching to the Always brand instead.

Well, I happen to use the Always brand when I need to, and I can tell you that a few weeks ago, I was pretty annoyed by what I found on their adhesive-backing strips:

"Have a happy period."

WHAT?

Who in the world thought THAT was a good idea to put there?

First of all, even if you happen to be grateful that you are not pregnant, exactly what is happy about shedding your uterine lining? Cramping, bloating, mood swings...and I'm really not going to get into details about the blood, since I'm sure that 99% of the people who read this blog know what I'm talking about.

This is not a happy time, even if, as I said, you are happy to not be pregnant.

And then it got me thinking about how many many women are NOT happy to not be pregnant. How many women who peel that adhesive-backing are actually very sad that they have not conceived? How many women have suffered through years of infertility and every period is a reminder of what they don't have?

How many women are suffering a miscarriage when they see those words? So sorry you lost a baby...but turn that frown upside down! Ridiculous.

I can just imagine the conference room and the ad guys and gals hanging around and brainstorming over take-out Chinese. You know, Kotex has these cute little tips on their adhesive-backings...we need to come up with something too. And then they think of their customers: females between the ages of 13 to 50 - a very disparate group. And yes, likely, a very high percentage of these females (I really can't call a 13 year old a women) are not seeking pregnancy (hopefully zero percent of those between the ages of 13 and 18 are). In fact, perhaps, these ad people don't know anybody who really wants to be pregnant.

Children are, after all, such a burden...

Well, I second the motion to add a little shot of Bourbon to each package. That, and maybe a prayer card for patience with annoying packaging...

Happy 3rd birthday, Jenny!

I was at a birthday party the other day, and the mom was lamenting not having had time to work on her child's baby book. Baby book? That's why I blog!

Day 9, Week 2

Fritz: I only have one more sentence to write and then I'm...DA DA DA DONE!

(Like Beethoven's Fifth (not 9th like I said earlier, thank you, Barb) - it was cute.)

Unfortunately, he is making this pronouncement at nearly 3 pm. And he's done with his writing, but we still need to read the rest of Lief the Lucky which I've been reading in bits and pieces today to break up the sheer monotony of hearing myself tell him over and over to finish doing his work.

ugh.

This is the one thing about homeschooling that really grates me. Why can't he just be happy to learn? What's so hard about copying a few sentences or reading a few paragraphs? I always loved schoolwork. Seriously. I would race to see how fast I could do math worksheets. I would go through books faster than Gutenburg could print them.

OK. I was a dork.

And Fritz doesn't hate all of school. He likes history, geography, and science. Those are the subjects where mom reads him interesting stuff.

He doesn't mind memorizing poems or Greek and Latin roots. He doesn't mind listening to stories from the Bible and illustrating his own Bible book.

He hates piano. He hates writing. I think it's a fine motor skill thing.

He hates doing math work sheets.

There are no comprehension problems here. It's all motivational problems. And that's what's so frustrating. I think I can be patient if he actually had comprehension problems...well, no, probably not.

Ugh, again. I was just a highly motivated learner, and am doing everything I can think of to inspire in my children a shared love of learning. And it's not working.

Patience. Time. I know.

In the meantime, I'm trying to think of a practical way to get this kid to keep his nose to the worksheet and just.get.it.done. Without screaming.

Ideas?

I laughed out loud...

...at this comment by Eric Scheske regarding the Muslim violent uproar over the Pope quoting a Byzantine emperor who characterized some of the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad, Islam's founder, as "evil and inhuman:"

That’s like a person protesting allegations about his drunkenness by drinking a bottle of whiskey.

Don't call us, we'll call you

I am blessed to live in a neighborhood with a plethora of teenaged girls who want to babysit. When it was only 4 kids to watch, they all pretty much told me $5 an hour. That's a really good deal for 4 kids! Of course, if it was much more than that, I wouldn't be able to hire them very often, since the bank account has been known to run dry.

One girl charged $6.50 an hour, but she washed, dried and put away all the dishes, too. Definitely worth paying extra money to come home at 10 pm to sleeping children and a clean kitchen. Most of the girls haven't figured out that putting the dishes in the dishwasher and the toys on the shelf will almost always guarantee repeat business.

Now that I often leave all 5 kids, I pay at least $6 an hour. Pete can be a handful. He still wants mommy and has the toddler-stamina to be miserable for hours on end.

The girl I'm having watch the kids on Saturdays for dog school is the oldest of 5. I chose her mainly because her 3 younger siblings are close in age to my kids and the youngest is only months older than Pete. She's pretty experienced at distracting fussy babies. And she knows that moms don't like messy houses. When the kids found out who was coming they said, "No! Not her! She makes us clean!" Hehe.

Because there are so many potential babysitters, I feel badly for any new girls who are trying to move in on the market. On Friday, about 530 pm, our doorbell rang. A middle school girl from down the street was selling stuff from a catalog as a fundraiser for school (I guess the government handout just isn't enough). As I was browsing the catalog of scented candles and wrapping paper, she looked around at my kids.

"Five kids, huh?"

"Yeah."

"That's a lot of kids."

"Yeah." (I suppose.)

"Do you ever need a, uh..."

"Babysitter?"

"Yeah!"

"Sometimes. How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Have you ever babysat a bunch of kids before?"

"I babysat three at one time."

"Mmmmm..." (If you can do 3, you can do 5 - at least my 5 who are usually well behaved for babysitters, except for Pete.)

"Once I babysat a 2 month old. But he slept the whole time. I was lovin' that."

"Yeah. I'd be lovin' that too! (I don't happen to have any sleepy 2 month olds who need watching, though.) Hmm...how 'bout I write your number down and I'll maybe call you sometime? What's your number?"

"Uh, I don't know..."

"Did you just move in?"

"Uh, about 2 months ago...I can bring it over later?"

"Ok. How much would you charge?"

"$5 per hour...well, that would be for 2 kids. I'd have to charge $2 per kid." (Well, now, $2 x 5 = $10 per hour. Hmmm...)

"Mmmm...well, here's the money for the wrapping paper."

"Thanks. Do you guys homeschool?"

"Yes, we do." (Do I have a scarlet H on my shirt or something?)

"Is it math time?" (This briefly puzzles me, since by Friday evenings all of the school stuff is totally cleaned up - woo hoo - TGIF - party time!!! And then I realize that my kids are playing with pattern blocks which had only arrived via UPS an hour before.)

"No. They just do this for fun."

"Oh. I'll bring my number over later."

"Buh-bye."

If I ever pay a 13 year old nearly twice the minimum wage to watch my kids, I swear I will withhold all the necessary taxes, social security, etc that I can as a private employer. Jeesh. These kids are so clueless. The babysitting supply is high. Prices should be pretty low. And you can make more money under the table, so to speak, as a babysitter, than you could flipping burgers at Mickey D's. But don't push it by expecting more than the fair market value.

For now, I'll stick with Miss Oldest-Of-Five-Who-Makes-My-Kids-Clean. She still owes her mom $40 for the Palm Pilot she needed for high school. At least her mom made her pay for it.

A different kind of military draft

Atlanta Journal-Constitution
September 14, 2006
Army Fights To Gain Troops

U.S. military leaders seek strategy to boost wartime size

Gen. Dan McNeill, head of Atlanta-based Forces Command, said Army officials want to be able to use National Guard combat units more frequently. Those units are under the control of individual state governors.

"If we are going to prosecute this long war, we need relatively
unencumbered access to the citizen soldier formations," said McNeill, whose command oversees training and mobilization for all Army forces in the continental United States.

It may go even farther than that, said Loren Thompson, a defense analyst with the Lexington Institute, a Washington-based nonprofit, nonpartisan public policy group that focuses on national security.

"There is speculation among Pentagon insiders that [President] Bush may mobilize the National Guard after the elections," Thompson said Wednesday.

"This war has gone on so much longer than anyone anticipated and the demand on our troops in the field are so great that the Army is just wearing out," Thompson added.

To mobilize the entire National Guard is, in effect, drafting over 330,000 people. These are people who have real lives: police, firemen, accountants, factory workers, IT technicians, teachers, clergy. Many of them make more in their civilian employment than they do in their part-time jobs. Yes, they all signed up to be "civilian soldiers," and they signed up to help the country in a time of war. But the vast bulk (75%) have already done a deployment within the last 3 years. The vast bulk have already served more than was ever thought necessary.

Thank goodness this means little to my family personally. Bill is already full-time National Guard. We chose this life. We budgeted for this life. But I am outraged at the possibility that every National Guard soldier and his or her family may be thrown into complete chaos and fiscal hardship involuntarily. And they'd still have the audacity to call it an all-volunteer force.

Young officers attending the conference were told by Lt. Gen. Thomas Metz, second in command at the Army's Training and Doctrine Command, which oversees recruiting and training soldiers, that "the rest of your life will be spent in this war."

And that's the official opinion about when this will all end.

P.S. Don't get me wrong. I support wiping out bad guys the world over. I don't want to live in fear of terrorism, fear of traveling, fear of opening my mailbox, whatever. I don't mind fighting for our freedoms. Just come up with a better plan, boys, than screwing up the lives of 330,000 people without their true consent simply because it's an easy solution. And don't risk a domestic crisis by removing National Guard soldiers from their home state and leaving that state unable to deal with a natural disaster like Hurrican Katrina.

I guess today is just a day for complaining.

Promise: I'll take a soothing bath tonight after the kids are in bed, and the jolly Michelle will be back.

No medical degree, just sarcasm

Billy: Mooooommmmm! My mouth hurts.

{He doesn't have his third set of molars yet, and I checked inside his mouth to see if he was sprouting anything. Nope. And he kept pointing to his cheeks instead of his gums. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, and began to assume he was delaying his schoolwork.}

Me: Well, I think it's really bad here, Bill. I'm pretty sure this condition will kill you in 80 years.

Billy: Eighty years! I'm going to die in eighty years! Ooooh, nooooo! I'm going to die....Fritz, did you hear that? I'm going to die in eighty years!!!!

I tried not to fall off my chair from laughing.

Me: Billy, do you know how old you will be in 80 years?

Billy: No...

Me: Older than Grandpa.

Billy: Which one?

Me: Both of them.

Billy: (finally laughing at the joke) Oh! Oh! I'll be older than Grandpa! Oh! Ha ha ha.

Dying is ok, as long as you are older than old.

Rant

In contrast to the Duggars, who fall in the "Quiver-full" category, are the Shakers, who believed in celibacy, even for married members.

Of course, celibacy means no intercourse, which generally means no children either (one notable exception!). Hence, the number of Shakers in the world today is seven (down from a peak of 6,000 in the 1830s).

My point is this: if you don't procreate, you are relying on converts to carry on your values. Chances are, your values will go the way of the Shakers.

But that's ok, my kids will support you in your old age: they'll pay their taxes and social security tithe; they'll be soldiers and defend your freedom to live how you want; they'll vote and ensure you have the freedom to say whatever you want to say (even if you fling hateful diatribes in their direction); and hopefully, they'll have the Christian fortitude to love you despite how you feel about them.

Because that's the way this evil Catholic mom is brainwashing them to behave.

{Note: blogger doesn't like me today, and I can't link to my post from yesterday about the Duggars...in case you want to know what in the world has set me off.}

Healed!

Here's Pete with no cast. What a big boy. I have to take him back in a month for another torturous session with the X-ray machine to check the healing, but so far so good.

music to my ears

Fritz: Mom, can I have some more chicken?

I've waited over 8 years to hear that.

Lemon Chicken with Thyme for dinner tonight.

I just don't get it

Bill sent me an email asking me if I remembered the family with a bunch of kids and a website about their life...

...of course I remembered the Dugger family with 15 kids. But I couldn't remember their names or other details, so I went to ProLife Search (which is powered by Google), and started typing in things like "family with 15 kids," "mother of the year with 15 kids," "one big family," "TV show about a big family," etc. One of my searches gave me this link, which is a thread discussing the show that aired on Discovery (?) Channel about them.

The vast bulk of the writers (one of whom nicely listed a link to the Dugger's website, which is what I wanted, so it wasn't a complete waste of my time being there) were incredibly, hatefully, judgmental. I just don't get it.

I mean, why the hate? Why the leaping to conclusions about what kind of people they are? I don't expect everybody to think this is a great thing (I personally don't desire to have 15 children myself, but maybe I would feel differently after I had another 5 or 6!). But this family is labeled as ultra-conservative, scary, religious freaks, bad bad bad bad bad. Basically, the accusation seems to be that by the very fact that they have "irresponsibly" had so many children, they were guilty of child abuse, neglect, and the ultimate sin of failing to expose their children to real life.

Now, I don't want to characterize all these people who used choice curse words and other impolite speech in their diatribes about the personal decisions made by one family as hypocrites, but I would like to point out that many of them salivated at the idea of exposing these overprotected rugrats to alternative lifestyles including homosexuality. Again, I just don't get it.

I mean, please just take a brief glimpse in the mirror, folks. How can they spit venom, call them all these names, accuse them of abusing their children...and then get even more mad that these conservative, religious nuts don't accept alternative lifestyles with open arms? Um, to each his own, as long as the Highest Power you follow is yourself? If God commands it, and you follow it, you are wrong, but if you do something because it makes you feel good, then the rest of us should happily accept your personal choices?

I'm not trying to judge the Duggards one way or the other. I know lots of people (some are fundamentalists Christians, some are Mormons and some are Catholics) who do happen to feel that having as many children as possible is God's Will (I don't even know if this is truly the Duggard's position or not). I don't happen to agree with that. Being open to life does not mean seeking pregnancy as often as possible. Most women achieve a natural infertility due to breastfeeding, and that seems to me to be part of God's plan. I disagree, but I don't hate the Duggards for their beliefs. I'm not threatened by their beliefs.

Is all this hatred out of fear? I just don't get it. I don't understand how the criticizers can also be upset with what they assume is hatred on the part of the Duggards to others not like them. It's ok for me to hate you, but not ok for you to hate me?

Can we talk about this in December?

Billy: Mom! I forgot about Saint Nicholas!

Me: Mmmm? (As in: where are we going with this?)

Billy: Mom! Is Saint Nicholas Santa Claus?

Me: Yup. (Seriously: where are we going with this?)

Billy: Mom! Saint Nicholas is in Heaven!

Me: Yup. (This isn't looking too good...)

Billy: That means Santa Claus is in Heaven!

Me: Yup. (Wow, good logic there, kiddo. There are some adults who can't manage that.)

Billy: How does he get down here with all our presents?

Me: Do you believe in miracles? (Can we talk about this in December?)

Billy: I don't know how he does it, but he does it...

All work and no play

My neighbor's son got in big trouble the other day at school.

He was running...

...at recess.

He's a kindergartener.

Yeah, I think he's borderline hyperactive...some Ritalin will fix that up right quick.

And then they'll complain about childhood obesity...

It's always a day away

Last night, Jenny laid out clothes and said they were "for tomorrow."

This morning, she picked out different clothes to wear. I pointed to the other clothes and asked her why she wasn't wearing them.

"They're for tomorrow," she replied.

She needs to get with Katie and learn that today is tomorrow.

Patriotism 101

Today, I am wearing tan pants and a light blue shirt. To be more specific, I am not wearing red or white or navy blue. Why? Mainly because I got an email telling me to wear red, white and blue today to show my patriotism and support of the troops or whatever.

I'm not going outside and hanging an American flag today, either. Truth be told, there's already one out there, and I'm too lazy to take it down (well, too short). I wouldn't normally want to take the flag down, but when someone tells me I ought to be flying it, then I want to do the exact opposite.

I'm not going to drop everything today at noon for a moment of silence. And I'm not going to think fondly of all 3000 victims of 5 years ago and know in my heart that they are all in heaven as another email boldly proclaimed. I wonder if the author of that email also thinks that 70 virgins greeted these martyrs when they got there?

(Ouch, yes, that was biting, I'll admit.)

I WILL pray for the victims and their families all day today, as I do on other days throughout the year. I WILL pray for peace. I WILL pray for justice. I WILL pray for freedom and for our country.

And I will pray for an end to spam emails.

Or rather, I will pray for an end to emotionalism, as described by Eric Scheske in this Catholic Exchange column from a year ago. I really don't want to spend the day crying, as I did 5 years ago. I really don't want to spend the day angry, as I did 5 years ago.

Patriotism is love and loyalty to one's country. Time and again, the sages warn those seeking marriage that love is not an emotion, it's a choice. This applies equally to patriotism. I choose, happily, to live in this country. I will defend the cause of freedom in any way I can (primarily by voting in every election). Symbols like the flag and wearing our nations colors are fine and dandy. But like wearing a wedding band, it is not the outward display that makes you committed to a cause, but rather the actions of daily life.

Have you hugged a soldier today? I did. Now that's showing support of the troops.

sound familiar?

Friday, 3 pm.

It's afternoon cleanup time where I (and 4 helpers) spend 10 minutes straightening up the day's messes in order to make room for more.

Where to start?

First the classroom (aka: the dining room). Katie is tasked with picking up the castle made from base ten blocks, and the other helpers are sent to different rooms with specific chores. I spy the magnetic pieces of our United States map puzzle all over the floor, pick up a handful and put them on top of the puzzle board on the table (a future job for Fritz). Next to the board are scattered pencils which I gather and place in the pencil box while filtering the other debris in and amongst them: a damp kitchen towel, a dirty cup and straw, a broken crayon, a CD (relocated from the den by Pete), and some random pieces of trash.

I snap the pencil box shut, put it on the school shelf, and stoop down for another handful of puzzle pieces only to discover an abandoned dress, socks and pink tennis shoes. I pick up those instead and take my now full armload to the kitchen. Trash in the proper receptacle, dirty laundry thrown in the laundry room just off the kitchen, dirty dishes in the sink and I'm off to the den to replace the CD.

In the den, I see a huge stack of CDs, pulled out of the bookshelf by the baby earlier in the day. Throw them on the shelf (in no particular order), and then pick up a dozen colorful daggers along with the rest of the Pop-Up Pirate game. Close the door to the shelf and remind myself again to put a rubberband around the cabinet handles to prevent this from happening tomorrow. I straighten up a few piles of paperwork on the floor, turn a despairing eye on the mess on my desk, and head back to the dining room. Along the way, I find a few more items of clothing and more shoes which get placed on the steps to go up later.

Back in the dining room, I pile the rest of the states on their board and call Fritz in to assemble the puzzle. I thank Katie for cleaning up the base ten blocks and ask her to take the Playmobile residents of the now demolished castle back to their former home upstairs. The last remnants of schoolwork are placed in the proper folder or cubby to safely remain for the weekend. Billy cleans up the 100 pieces of a Fantastic 4 puzzle which had been scattered all over the only large non-carpeted floor besides the kitchen and bathrooms - the tile entryway. Jenny puts the animal block puzzle together, and all the puzzles are returned to the puzzle cabinet, which needs straightening badly (some other day).

Finally, I put the chairs under the table and head to the living room. A not-oft used room, thankfully, I gather a sippy cup and a few more random items of clothing, put the talking sit-n-spin and the pretend lawnmower off to the side, and check the bottom of the double stroller (which is usually parked in there) for hidden treasure and discover another pair of shoes. Shoes on the stairs, clothes in the laundry room, cup in the sink...where I find Jenny who really wants to do the dishes. I tell her she has to wait until I do the breakable ones.

Next stop: the family room. Helpers put cushions back on the couch, take light sabers out to the garage, pick up dozens of books and return them to the shelves. I gather more shoes and clothing (you'd think we had no closets, dressers, or hampers in the place) and some miscellaneous trash and go to my last stop: the kitchen.

Torture time is over for the kids, and I release them from cleanup duty. Jenny, though, really wants to do the dishes and is waiting impatiently for me to permit her. I load the breakable bowls and glasses into the dishwasher, handwash the muffin tin from this morning and the heavy skillet from last night (forgive me, Flylady, for I have sinned...), and hide the dish soap lest she use all of it as she's been known to do. She gets to dive in and play wash dishes, while I clear the counter of peanut butter, bread, Ovaltine, Cheerios and Corn Flakes boxes, raisins, and undesirable peels from apple slices (some opt to eat around the peels instead of enjoying the entire slice). The counter and kitchen table get wiped down removing the last traces of jelly, peanut butter, mayo, milk, and bread crumbs.

You know what? It's time to start chopping onions and grating cheese for dinner.

And lo, I hear the sound of CDs being thrown on the ground...

The Nativity of Mary

Thy birth, O Virgin Mother of God,
heralded joy to all the world.
For from thou hast risen the Sun of justice,
Christ our God.

Destroying the curse, He gave blessing;
and damning death, He bestowed on us
life everlasting.

Blessed art thou among women
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb.
For from thou hast risen of Sun of justice,
Christ our God.

Background Checks

If ever there was a goody two-shoes, I'm it - at least in the last decade. I'm the sort of person who will drag all the kids back into a store to pay for an item that I forgot on the bottom of a grocery cart. Even in my days of youthful indiscretion, I was never arrested or affiliated with a questionable organization.

My record is squeaky clean.

And yet, my every fiber of being recoils at the idea of having a background check done on me. I don't need to be hiding drugs in my body cavities to resent a strip-search. My privacy and my person is violated.

My last church required background checks and training for any adult who worked with children on a regular basis (defined as more than a few times a year). As a CCD teacher, I had to submit to this. I didn't mind that...too much. I understand that it is necessary. As a teacher, I would be alone with children. As a teacher, I would be gaining the trust and confidence of children. I was happy that my parish was getting smart and proactive and doing what they could to prevent the abuse of children. And the training class, although emotionally difficult to endure, was very educational and empowering (it is empowering to understand exactly what behaviors in others are triggering that internal alarm).

But I belong to a homeschool group that meets at a building on post and is part of the child services. The child services runs the before-and-after-school care as well as most of the sports and educational opportunities for kids (from soccer to gymnastics to dance). Their building is filled with classrooms for their before-and-after-school kids which sit empty during the school day. The homeschool group is allowed to use the building at this time, but all families must comply with the child services rules: No children under 4 permitted in classrooms (not child-proofed). Parents must stay in the building at all times. No children left unattended. No corporal punishment to be used on any child.

These are all fine, and I have no problem agreeing to abide by them to use the facility. {Side note: one mother said that she had been told that the "no corporal punishment" rule included her restraining her child in her lap. She had a young child in full violent meltdown and was told she could not calm her child by this method. The rep from the building denied that being the policy, but somebody got all uppity.}

But there is also a vague policy about background checks. Of course, they have a background check policy for any adult who works with children. That makes sense. The homeschoolers have a co-op, and those involved in that type of classroom situation should have to comply under the terms of the building use. But I questioned the president about the rest of us. I have no intent on participating in the co-op. I have no intent on ever escorting somebody's children to the bathroom by myself (I've got 5 of my own to worry about, I don't need to watch someone else's kids!!). I may attend a party or a playdate at this building, but I don't see myself being alone with children other than my own (they follow me everywhere I tell you!). I don't feel that the background check policy applies to parents who are simply attending social events with their children. I did not need to have a background check done on me when Katie took a dance class there, and I sat in the hallway and waited for her. I should not have to have one done on me to take my kids to a party.

But the president decided to err on the side of caution and told me that anybody who uses the building should have the check done. So, I would not be able to take my kids to a Christmas party unless I complied. And her point is this: wouldn't we all feel safer if we knew that everyone had had the background check done?

Yes, I suppose.

I suppose I would feel safer if we all submitted to a strip search before entering the building, but I sure as heck wouldn't be happier!

Am I wrong? Is the background check becoming the latest big WHATEVER in our lives, like taking off shoes, walking through metal detectors, and having our diaper bags scanned?

Any suggestions for a good retort to her "we'll all feel safer" position?

Day 1 Week 1

Today is the day we begin the official school year. Learning, of course, takes place year round.

This will be my fourth year teaching, and my first year with three school-aged children plus a preschooler. I'm sure it will be quite the adventure.

I begin every school year much as I began school when I was a student: with the full expectation and confidence that this will be the best year ever. I love to learn, and I get to learn right alongside my kids. Experience tells me that there will be days where school is more drudgery than fun, but for right now, today, I can't wait to begin!

UPDATE: Oh, thank goodness. It's noon and Fritz has completed all his work for today. Billy was done by our 1030 am recess break. I think Katie was done by 10 am. Katie and Jenny will be tough to keep busy this year.

Billy dug in his heels first thing this morning saying he hated school! I'm very glad that we got off to a good start and the day went smoothly, not too hard. I didn't hold anything back - we did a full day's work. I was concerned that several subjects and workbooks were being picked up where we left off - so no review or slow beginning like when you start a subject anew. His reading lesson was tough, but we went slowly and I didn't push it. He did fine.

Fritz didn't magically develop the ability to stay on task and work independently in the last three months. Too bad. I hate pulling teeth. Fortunately, after 3 years, I've learned how to explain a lesson and then give him some time to work on it. If he's not doing his job, we move on and all his assignments pile up at the end, and if he chooses to spend the afternoon sitting and staring at his work, that's his problem. At least I can get supper started without worrying that I haven't covered his history lesson.

All in all, though, a good start, an early ending. Would that all days be this pleasant...

Who's on first?

Last night, Bill asked who would watch our kids this morning when we took Fritz to an appointment with the oral surgeon. I explained that finding a babysitter for 7 am on the first day of school would have been problematic at best.

So, this morning found us all in commuter traffic on our way to the hospital. The radio was on. They announced the day.

Billy: Mom, is it really Tuesday?

Me: Yes, today is Tuesday.

Fritz: When do we start school?

Me: Wednesday.

Fritz: When's Wednesday?

Me: Tommorrow. You guys are lucky. Everybody else is starting school today.

Fritz: How about Zack?

Me: Okay, not Zack. They're going on vacation this week. Everybody else is starting today.

Fritz: How about Jacob?

Me: Yes, the school opens today. He'll be there.

Katie: Erin's friends, who are also my friends now, said they are starting school tomorrow.

Me: Did they mean yesterday's tomorrow which is today?

(Pause while she cogitates.)

Katie: Mommy! Is today tomorrow?

Me: Yes, Katie, today is tomorrow.

Billy: And when are we starting school?

Me: Wednesday.

Billy: And when's Wednesday?

Me: Tomorrow.

Katie: But, Mommy, today is tomorrow.

And I Don't Know's on third.

Check it out

This week's Carnival of Homeschool is here.

A note on comments

It's a good news/bad news thing.

The good news is that I turned off that pesky word verification thing for comments.

The bad news is that is turned on comment moderation.

It's not that I feel I have to screen comments before they appear here. It's just that blogger is only notifying me sporadically when people do comment. So, I'll get an email showing me one person's comments, and I'll go to the post and discover one or two that I didn't know about. And chances are, if somebody comments on something more than a few days old, I'll never know.

I love feedback from my posts, enough that I want to be sure to see it. Even though you won't have instant gratification in seeing your comments, this is probably better than your comments going unread. Please comment away!

Home(school) decorator

I never mind waiting for a doctor or other appointment if the waiting room is stocked with interesting home decorating magazines (and if my children are either not with me or are happily occupied with something else). Flipping through pictures of gorgeous kitchens, organized mudrooms, elegant living rooms, and spacious bathrooms gets me to daydreaming about my "perfect house." That "someday" house.

Although there are some styles that don't suit me or my background or where I live (Southwest and African themes just don't work for me), most of the time I argue with myself as to what style I really like. For example, I find the sleek, simple and clean lines of Contemporary, Japanese and Swedish designs really please the organized and uncluttered side of me. Cottage and Country styles appeal to my desire for comfort and a house for living (not for show). And Traditional or Victorian styles harmonize with my old-fashioned nature.

Despite hundreds of hours logged at pouring over various magazines throughout the years, I've yet to see any that truly capture my own style of decorating. I guess "Eclectic" might be a good catch-all phrase, but I think there may be better, more descriptive identifiers for the various stages of my home decorating life.

My first apartment, as a new college graduate, I shared with my sister. It was done in what I like to call the Dumpster Diver style. At first, few of the pieces were actual curbside retrievals, but after a while, my sister became quite adept at locating not just new items to add to our collection but also young male owners of pickup trucks who were willing to do all the hard work.

After a few years, I moved from the Dumpster Diver style to what my husband's parents call Early Married. This consists of two different Dumpster Diver collections joined with some cast-offs from sympathetic family members plus furniture left behind from previous tenants/owners of your apartment/house. Also, your combined incomes enable you to buy used furniture, like a matching crib, changing table and dresser set for your great expectation.

After children arrived, and one big salary departed, I found myself stuck with Early Married well past what one would consider the newlywed stage.

Then, for a brief period of time, I flirted with a comfy version of a traditional style, but rapidly moved into my current style: Homeschooler. My dining room walls have a nice print alphabet with animals for the different letters. This will soon be joined by another alphabet in cursive. There is also a big calendar where the kids can add the date as the month progresses, and of course, there is a big clock. Once school is underway, we'll add maps and samples of their schoolwork to the walls.

Instead of knick knacks, cabinet-tops are filled with math manipulates, puzzles, a pencil sharpener, and a CD player for listening to the Music Masters CDs. At some point this year, we'll add a globe.

The Homeschooler style is not usually restricted to one room of the house. Other rooms may have more art displays, art-in-progress and art supplies on any free flat surface and science projects in windows, closets or on top of the piano (the ultimate out-of-baby's reach spot). And no Homeschooler style home would be complete without piles and piles of books.

The most notable aspect of this style is shelving: everywhere, burgeoning. This year, with three elementary aged children plus a preschooler, the amount of easy readers, workbooks, manipulatives, pens, pencils, crayons, markers, glue, scissors, paper, and whatnots is becoming overwhelming! I just bought a new 8 cubby organizer from Target, and each kid picked out his or her own color canvas basket to store loose items (you can buy them individually at the store). But it's not enough. Fortunately, this shelving unit is stackable, and I'll be adding another one for 16 cubbies of storage. Where a non-homeschool family may have a beautiful china cabinet displaying grandma's favorite gravy dish or an heirloom porcelain tea set, I'll have a 4' x 4' grid of pigeon holes.

I'm not complaining, really. I don't have an heirloom porcelain tea set to display. I love teaching my kids, I love books, and I even love math manipulatives. I just didn't realize that these things would one day become my decor! And although most decorating styles make some sort of statement about who you are, few are quite as overt in proclaiming your lifestyle to a random guest.

My house is far from the house of my daydreams, whatever that may be. I definitely don't plan on continuing in the Homeschooler style once I am no longer homeschooling! But even if my real house is not my dream house, my real life is my dream life.

I can wait patiently for an heirloom porcelain tea set to adorn my shelves in my "someday" house. And if I had the capital, I'd start up a home(school) decorator magazine. There's an ever growing market...

New Month's Resolution for September

Is it September already? I am very sad to see the end of summer vacation rapidly approaching. We have all enjoyed the time off from nose-to-the-grindstone lessons. In fact, in planning the school year and the lesson plans (I'm not done yet), the first thing I did (so far, the only thing I've done) is plan when the breaks are! Now, I do love school and learning and teaching and short days with long, dark evenings that are perfect for snuggling on the couch and reading Kidnapped. But I will miss the days without an agenda, the ample supply of playmates for my kids, and the afternoons at the playground spent chit-chatting with other moms while worrying if the baby was going to break his other arm by falling off the platform.

Last month, I resolved to plan my dinners for this month. I also resolved to pre-prep as much as possible and to make weekly grocery lists for the fresh ingredients needed for those meals. I'm happy to say that I did complete this onerous task, but it took me almost all month! I just don't have an entire weekend to devote to shopping and cooking to get it all done at once, so I did it a bit here and there. I am already reaping the rewards of this planning, and dinner-time is not quite the hour of dread that it often can be.

This month, I'm resolving to do something challenging, but not so. For September, I resolve to pray the Morning Prayer with my husband every day. This only takes about 5 minutes, but I admit that we're not consistant in doing it. The challenge lies in doing it every day. The weekends, especially, are difficult since we get up later and the day is underway from the first moment with children demanding attention and us needing to get ready for things (like church). Perhaps I'll bring our copy of Magnificat to bed with me and set the alarm to ensure those 5 minutes of peace before beginning our busybusybusy lives.

Do you have a new month's resolution?