Although I usually post recipes on another page, Danielle Bean plans to host a Christmas cookie carnival, and it makes more sense to put this recipe here. The recipe is from Cookies! A Cookie Lover's Collection. I wish all cook books came with full color photos of the final product like this one does. Years ago, Bill came home from work after shopping at a book fair and told me he had gotten me a present. I took one look and asked if he got it for me or for him. It doesn't matter now; everybody here loves this book. The kids pore over it like it was a toy catalog.
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup vegetable shortening
1/4 cup light molasses
1 egg
2 cups flour
2 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground cardamom
1/4 tsp salt
granulated sugar
Heat oven to 350 deg. In a large mixing bowl, combine 1 cup sugar, shortening, molasses and egg. Beat at medium speed until well blended. Add flour, baking soda, salt and spices. Beat at low speed until soft dough forms.
Shape dough into 1 inch balls. Roll in granulated sugar. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 8 to 12 minutes, or until set. Cool completely before storing. Freezes well. Makes 5 dozen.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
The Birthday Meme
I was tagged by SFO Mom. As an aside, I despise Wikipedia, but I'll play anyway.
Here's how you play:
1) Go to Wikipedia
2) In the search box, type your birth month and day but not the year.
3) List three events that happened on your birthday
4) List two important birthdays and one death
5) One holiday or observance (if any)
My birthday is April 7th.
3 events:
1805 - First public performance of Beethoven's Third Symphony (Eroica).
1906 - Mount Vesuvius erupts and devastates Naples.
1933 - Prohibition was repealed for beer of no more than 3.2% alcohol by weight (or 4% by volume), eight months before the ratification of XXI amendment.
2 important birthdays:
1506 - Saint Francis Xavier, Spanish founder of the Society of Jesus (d. 1552)
1954 - Jackie Chan, Hong Kong actor
1 death:
30- Jesus according to the Bible (Do you see why I hate Wikipedia? I mean, really...what Bible says that Jesus died on April 7th, 30? Are there dates in your Bible? What calendar are they using?)
Holiday/observance:
World Health Day - April 7th of every year is designated as World Health Day and celebrated by the 191 member countries of the World Health Organization to emphasize significant issues in public health of worldwide concern. Observed annually since 1948.
You're it!
Celeste
Sarah
Here's how you play:
1) Go to Wikipedia
2) In the search box, type your birth month and day but not the year.
3) List three events that happened on your birthday
4) List two important birthdays and one death
5) One holiday or observance (if any)
My birthday is April 7th.
3 events:
1805 - First public performance of Beethoven's Third Symphony (Eroica).
1906 - Mount Vesuvius erupts and devastates Naples.
1933 - Prohibition was repealed for beer of no more than 3.2% alcohol by weight (or 4% by volume), eight months before the ratification of XXI amendment.
2 important birthdays:
1506 - Saint Francis Xavier, Spanish founder of the Society of Jesus (d. 1552)
1954 - Jackie Chan, Hong Kong actor
1 death:
30- Jesus according to the Bible (Do you see why I hate Wikipedia? I mean, really...what Bible says that Jesus died on April 7th, 30? Are there dates in your Bible? What calendar are they using?)
Holiday/observance:
World Health Day - April 7th of every year is designated as World Health Day and celebrated by the 191 member countries of the World Health Organization to emphasize significant issues in public health of worldwide concern. Observed annually since 1948.
You're it!
Celeste
Sarah
It's never too late to say thank you
On Thanksgiving day, our doorbell and phone both rang at the same time. Since the Caller ID said Private Name Private Number, we ignored the phone and focused our attention on our first guest to arrive. But when one minute later the phone rang again with Private Name Private Number, my instincts (my curiosity) told me to answer it.
It was our friend, Perry, calling from Afghanistan to wish us a pleasant Thanksgiving. Well, actually, he wasn't calling for us, he was calling for his family, who he hoped was at our house. Although we expected them soon, they were, unfortunately, not the first guests arriving just then.
I passed Perry off to Bill right after I confirmed that this was indeed a wretched Thanksgiving for him. I don't envy him at all. It is hard to be a single mom and hold the fort down while Uncle Sam sends your husband away for a year. There were many times I longed for a vacation and thought Bill was the lucky one since he didn't have to deal with the insanity that was (still is) my life. But honestly, never ever ever would I choose to be apart from my children for a year. Too much happens in that time, and I don't know how I could bear the pain of missing it.
Now, a weekend away...that sounds really nice...
Besides Perry's family, we also had my friend Stacy and her children here. Stacy's husband is in Afghanistan, too. I was very happy to be able to host this dinner for these friends. I'd have hosted every deployed soldiers' family in the area if my home and budget were big enough. I'm not happy that they need to be hosted; I'm just happy if I can distract them for a few hours.
Growing up, it was a tradition to go around the table during Thanksgiving dinner and list the things for which we were most thankful. For the past 8 years, I've been able to spend Thanksgiving with my parents, and we continued to do it. I'm willing to bet that my sister, her family and my parents did it last Thursday as usual. That's what makes it a tradition.
I considered carrying on the tradition here this year as well. But then I thought of my guests, and I really didn't want them to have to offer a litany of their blessings. The emotions are too high, and the setting - with Bill's parents, brother, sister, and aunt here as well - wasn't appropriate for that potential mine field. So, we gathered everyone in the kitchen where the buffet was assembled and offered the traditional Catholic blessing before meals with no extemporaneous ramblings before freeing the guests to fill their plates. I walked away to attend to something, and Stacy came up, gave me a quick hug and thanked me for being a good friend. The rapidity with which she dashed off to get some food for her little ones affirmed that public displays of thanksgiving would not have been a good idea.
Although I am sad that our military is deployed, and I'm not certain we're accomplishing much, I am very thankful that we have a proud military who voluntarily sacrifices so much for so very little personal recompense. And even if they don't seem to make a difference in Afghanistan or in Iraq, they do make a difference here in the United States. We are so accustomed to freedom here and so very oblivious to the conditions under which the vast majority of the world lives. We debate tax codes for churches while citizens of other nations pray they don't get caught worshipping in a manner in which they choose. We rally against censorship if a library wants to put filters on computers to prevent children from seeing pornography while citizens of other nations are arrested for simply owning a Bible. And we owe these freedoms, not to political activists who lobbied for changes and had sit-ins and hunger strikes, but to soldiers who fought and died for it. And while activists may keep the public aware of dangers from within our own society who seek to destroy our freedoms, it is our military which prevents forces from without from forcing us to live in constant fear.
I am also thankful for these military families who manage to keep on with life despite the hardship of deployment. We have an all-volunteer military only because of supportive families and strong women like Stacy and Perry's wife, Kim.
But most of all, thank you, dear Lord in Heaven above, that it's not my husband over there right now. I am so very grateful to have him here at home.
It was our friend, Perry, calling from Afghanistan to wish us a pleasant Thanksgiving. Well, actually, he wasn't calling for us, he was calling for his family, who he hoped was at our house. Although we expected them soon, they were, unfortunately, not the first guests arriving just then.
I passed Perry off to Bill right after I confirmed that this was indeed a wretched Thanksgiving for him. I don't envy him at all. It is hard to be a single mom and hold the fort down while Uncle Sam sends your husband away for a year. There were many times I longed for a vacation and thought Bill was the lucky one since he didn't have to deal with the insanity that was (still is) my life. But honestly, never ever ever would I choose to be apart from my children for a year. Too much happens in that time, and I don't know how I could bear the pain of missing it.
Now, a weekend away...that sounds really nice...
Besides Perry's family, we also had my friend Stacy and her children here. Stacy's husband is in Afghanistan, too. I was very happy to be able to host this dinner for these friends. I'd have hosted every deployed soldiers' family in the area if my home and budget were big enough. I'm not happy that they need to be hosted; I'm just happy if I can distract them for a few hours.
Growing up, it was a tradition to go around the table during Thanksgiving dinner and list the things for which we were most thankful. For the past 8 years, I've been able to spend Thanksgiving with my parents, and we continued to do it. I'm willing to bet that my sister, her family and my parents did it last Thursday as usual. That's what makes it a tradition.
I considered carrying on the tradition here this year as well. But then I thought of my guests, and I really didn't want them to have to offer a litany of their blessings. The emotions are too high, and the setting - with Bill's parents, brother, sister, and aunt here as well - wasn't appropriate for that potential mine field. So, we gathered everyone in the kitchen where the buffet was assembled and offered the traditional Catholic blessing before meals with no extemporaneous ramblings before freeing the guests to fill their plates. I walked away to attend to something, and Stacy came up, gave me a quick hug and thanked me for being a good friend. The rapidity with which she dashed off to get some food for her little ones affirmed that public displays of thanksgiving would not have been a good idea.
Although I am sad that our military is deployed, and I'm not certain we're accomplishing much, I am very thankful that we have a proud military who voluntarily sacrifices so much for so very little personal recompense. And even if they don't seem to make a difference in Afghanistan or in Iraq, they do make a difference here in the United States. We are so accustomed to freedom here and so very oblivious to the conditions under which the vast majority of the world lives. We debate tax codes for churches while citizens of other nations pray they don't get caught worshipping in a manner in which they choose. We rally against censorship if a library wants to put filters on computers to prevent children from seeing pornography while citizens of other nations are arrested for simply owning a Bible. And we owe these freedoms, not to political activists who lobbied for changes and had sit-ins and hunger strikes, but to soldiers who fought and died for it. And while activists may keep the public aware of dangers from within our own society who seek to destroy our freedoms, it is our military which prevents forces from without from forcing us to live in constant fear.
I am also thankful for these military families who manage to keep on with life despite the hardship of deployment. We have an all-volunteer military only because of supportive families and strong women like Stacy and Perry's wife, Kim.
But most of all, thank you, dear Lord in Heaven above, that it's not my husband over there right now. I am so very grateful to have him here at home.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Jump ropes
Recently, the kids have been singing:
Cinder-ella
Dressed in yella
Went upstars to kiss a fella
Made a mistake
Kissed a snake
How many doctors did it take?
1...2...3...4...5...
I think I taught this rhyme to Fritz years ago, and he must have pulled it from the deep recesses of his memory. In my neck of the woods growing up, it was a jump rope rhyme, usually sung by the two girls holding the ends of a long rope while the girl or two in the middle tried to break the record and jump to the highest count.
The only times I remember jumping rope during recess were the two years I attended a Catholic school in Canton, Ohio - second and third grade. There was no playground. The little kids (like me) played in a concrete courtyard, and the older kids played on the asphalt parking lot. There were balls and jump ropes, and that's it. No slides, no swings, no basketball hoops. We were highly encouraged to expend vast amounts of energy by jumping rope (mostly by the girls) or running in some sort of game with balls (mostly by the boys). I don't remember feeling deprived or bored. I also don't remember any public school I attended having jump ropes. They all had playgrounds.
Bill went to Catholic schools from 1st through 12th grades. Same deal: jump ropes or balls on an asphalt parking lot for recess. But he says they took the ball away because the boys were getting too sweaty. Yeah.
Fondly recalling those jump rope days and inspired by my kids Cinderella chanting, I went online and found these playground jump ropes just like the ones from those Catholic school days, but with lighter beads. I bought them as stockings stuffers - one for each of my 4 older kids. I also bought a "Double Dutch" set, so my kids can play together.
I've got an asphalt alley behind my house. Next up: plaid jumpers and navy slacks, and SMARTY PANTS will have a professional air.
Does anybody recall any jump rope rhymes from their childhood? I'd like to have a full repertoire to teach the kids.
Cinder-ella
Dressed in yella
Went upstars to kiss a fella
Made a mistake
Kissed a snake
How many doctors did it take?
1...2...3...4...5...
I think I taught this rhyme to Fritz years ago, and he must have pulled it from the deep recesses of his memory. In my neck of the woods growing up, it was a jump rope rhyme, usually sung by the two girls holding the ends of a long rope while the girl or two in the middle tried to break the record and jump to the highest count.
The only times I remember jumping rope during recess were the two years I attended a Catholic school in Canton, Ohio - second and third grade. There was no playground. The little kids (like me) played in a concrete courtyard, and the older kids played on the asphalt parking lot. There were balls and jump ropes, and that's it. No slides, no swings, no basketball hoops. We were highly encouraged to expend vast amounts of energy by jumping rope (mostly by the girls) or running in some sort of game with balls (mostly by the boys). I don't remember feeling deprived or bored. I also don't remember any public school I attended having jump ropes. They all had playgrounds.
Bill went to Catholic schools from 1st through 12th grades. Same deal: jump ropes or balls on an asphalt parking lot for recess. But he says they took the ball away because the boys were getting too sweaty. Yeah.
Fondly recalling those jump rope days and inspired by my kids Cinderella chanting, I went online and found these playground jump ropes just like the ones from those Catholic school days, but with lighter beads. I bought them as stockings stuffers - one for each of my 4 older kids. I also bought a "Double Dutch" set, so my kids can play together.
I've got an asphalt alley behind my house. Next up: plaid jumpers and navy slacks, and SMARTY PANTS will have a professional air.
Does anybody recall any jump rope rhymes from their childhood? I'd like to have a full repertoire to teach the kids.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Football, running and coffee creamer
Although it is painfully clear who won the Bengals - Browns game yesterday, I'm not certain who won the Bengals - Packers game played in my backyard around the same time. Both my boys seemed to have sustained minor abrasions. Billy, for once, was excited to see his own blood pouring from his lip. My suggestion that they tone down their tackle "football" to something a bit less aggressive fell on deaf ears.
At one point, I poked my head into the backyard and Fritz said, "Mom, look how muddy I am!" And then Billy said, "Mom, look how muddy I am!" I asked if the point of the game was to get muddy, and Billy answered in the affirmative with a look that seemed both shocked and bewildered that I didn't already know the answer to that question.
Later, Bill played with the boys and is now nursing an injured knee.
Of course, who I am to point out their foolishness? At least they had fun obtaining their wounds. The palm of my hand and my knee are still stinging from a fall I took this morning barely a tenth of a mile into my run. It would have been much better had I just stayed in bed that extra half hour. Instead of exercising myself and my dog, I hurt myself and put three holes in the only well-fitting pair of running pants I own. And my left ankle doesn't feel great either, having been rolled off the edge of the pavement causing my fall.
ugh.
On a good note (always must end on a good note), I have to chuckle at a man I overheard at the grocery store yesterday. He and his wife were contemplating various flavored coffee creamers as I reached for International Delight's Pumpkin Pie Spice. Having had too many of Starbuck's Pumpkin Spice lattes (and if you've had one, you've had too many: my SIL accurately compared them to crack - have one, get addicted), I eagerly jumped at the opportunity to inexpensively recreate the flavor in the comfort of my own kitchen. The man was rejecting the Pumpkin Pie Spice because he felt it was a Thanksgiving leftover. "There must be a reason nobody else wanted it," he said, implying the reason was that it wasn't good tasting. I actually paused for a nanosecond, contemplated the under $2 purchase and considered returning it.
But now, as I sit here enjoying this little luxury, I'm happy I didn't listen to the man. There are many reasons these creamers might be there - not just the possibility that the hoards tried the flavor and found it lacking. The risk of trying it was pretty insignificant; the pleasure of success is immeasurable. It's a shame the man was more willing to follow what he perceived, possibly erroneously, to be the crowd's opinion than to take a minor risk and find out for himself the truth.
And I suppose this is the lesson I need to learn today as I whimper over my injuries and wish I'd stayed in bed instead of wasting my morning. I could have gotten a half hour more sleep. But I could get a half hour more sleep every day. Instead, most days, I get up and I run two or three miles with success. Today, I was not successful. There is no guarantee that I will or will not have a good run when I head out at 430 am. But had I stayed in bed, there is 100% certainty that I would not have had a good run by the simple fact that I would not have attempted it.
To paraphrase Moses, we can choose life or death. I say, we can choose a premature death by not living life. God, help me to live.
At one point, I poked my head into the backyard and Fritz said, "Mom, look how muddy I am!" And then Billy said, "Mom, look how muddy I am!" I asked if the point of the game was to get muddy, and Billy answered in the affirmative with a look that seemed both shocked and bewildered that I didn't already know the answer to that question.
Later, Bill played with the boys and is now nursing an injured knee.
Of course, who I am to point out their foolishness? At least they had fun obtaining their wounds. The palm of my hand and my knee are still stinging from a fall I took this morning barely a tenth of a mile into my run. It would have been much better had I just stayed in bed that extra half hour. Instead of exercising myself and my dog, I hurt myself and put three holes in the only well-fitting pair of running pants I own. And my left ankle doesn't feel great either, having been rolled off the edge of the pavement causing my fall.
ugh.
On a good note (always must end on a good note), I have to chuckle at a man I overheard at the grocery store yesterday. He and his wife were contemplating various flavored coffee creamers as I reached for International Delight's Pumpkin Pie Spice. Having had too many of Starbuck's Pumpkin Spice lattes (and if you've had one, you've had too many: my SIL accurately compared them to crack - have one, get addicted), I eagerly jumped at the opportunity to inexpensively recreate the flavor in the comfort of my own kitchen. The man was rejecting the Pumpkin Pie Spice because he felt it was a Thanksgiving leftover. "There must be a reason nobody else wanted it," he said, implying the reason was that it wasn't good tasting. I actually paused for a nanosecond, contemplated the under $2 purchase and considered returning it.
But now, as I sit here enjoying this little luxury, I'm happy I didn't listen to the man. There are many reasons these creamers might be there - not just the possibility that the hoards tried the flavor and found it lacking. The risk of trying it was pretty insignificant; the pleasure of success is immeasurable. It's a shame the man was more willing to follow what he perceived, possibly erroneously, to be the crowd's opinion than to take a minor risk and find out for himself the truth.
And I suppose this is the lesson I need to learn today as I whimper over my injuries and wish I'd stayed in bed instead of wasting my morning. I could have gotten a half hour more sleep. But I could get a half hour more sleep every day. Instead, most days, I get up and I run two or three miles with success. Today, I was not successful. There is no guarantee that I will or will not have a good run when I head out at 430 am. But had I stayed in bed, there is 100% certainty that I would not have had a good run by the simple fact that I would not have attempted it.
To paraphrase Moses, we can choose life or death. I say, we can choose a premature death by not living life. God, help me to live.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
THE RULES
Last night, Bill and I herded the last of the kids into the boys' bedroom where the usual pre-bedtime melee was in full swing. We sat on the floor, since the beds were heaped with squirming, squealing lumps.
"Children, " I said, "come sit down here. We have an important matter to discuss." And dutifully, they all presented themselves in a line on the floor.
"Come sit here by me, Daddy," said Katie.
"Oh, no," he said, "I'm on this side of the discussion."
And so I began: "You guys have been giving us a hard time for weeks now at bedtime. I've been thinking it over, and I've decided that perhaps you just don't know what THE RULES are. So, I'm going to tell you all THE RULES, and then we will expect you all to follow THE RULES. In a few minutes we will say prayers, and then we will tuck you all into your beds and say goodnight. At that point, it is bedtime. THE RULES are that you will lie on your beds, close your mouths, close your eyes, and go to sleep. You will not talk. You will not go get a drink of water. You will not go to the bathroom. You will not stop by your brothers' or sister's bedroom on the way to the bathroom to see what they are doing. You will not come downstairs to tell us all the rule breaking your siblings are doing."
At this point, Katie raises her hand. She is on the verge of tears, but she's been on the verge of tears for five years now. She barely manages to squeak out her question. "But when are we supposed to go to the bathroom?" Katie happens to be our worst bedtime offender.
"NOW, Katie. You see, when we send you up to get ready for bed, we expect you to get ready for bed: wash up, pajamas on, teeth brushed, bathroom, drink of water, all that. So when we tuck you in and say goodnight, you're all ready to go to sleep."
"But what if we really have to go to the bathroom, Mom?" Fritz is old enough to reason that we don't really want wet beds either, so which "rule" is going to win? I know if you give a kid an exception to a rule, you will deal with exceptions for an hour every night, since that's been the problem for the last few months.
"Going to the bathroom after bedtime is against THE RULES. If you have to go, I suggest you not get caught. And the best way to not get caught is to go right there, hurry up and get back to bed fast. If you take a long time, stop to admire yourself in the mirror, swing by your sisters' room to tell them what you're doing or invite your brother to keep you company, you WILL get caught."
"Oh." Hmmm...breaking THE RULES but not getting caught...interesting concept...
"OK, let's review: after bedtime, are you supposed to stay in bed?"
"YES," comes a chorus of voices.
"Will you talk to your brother or sister or sing or jump around or read out loud?"
"NO," comes a chorus of voices.
"Good. Now, infractions are punishable - possibly by spanking. Everybody understand that?"
"YES," comes a chorus of voices.
And so, after prayers there was a bustle of final preparations for bed that should have been done earlier and will be done earlier tonight, and then the kiddies went off to bed. Five minutes later, Bill passed through and did some remindings of the rules, and five minute after that, I passed through and chased a few kids back to bed. And we heard some thumping from the boys' bedroom for about ten more minutes. And when we finally went upstairs, we found Katie in her usual spot - sleeping at the top of the stairs, because she's scared of the dark in her room.
{We allow her to leave the bedroom door all the way open and she's turned her pillow to be at the foot of her bed and right by the door - basically it is just as light by her head in her room as it is in the hall, but she prefers the hall. This photo was taken last month when she convinced Jenny to sleep with her in the hall.}
We did not spend an hour telling kids to be quiet, so I think it was a success, despite the minor infractions.
And thanks to Advil, the teething toddler made it all the way through the night without waking. Wow. I think I can take on the world after all this rest.
"Children, " I said, "come sit down here. We have an important matter to discuss." And dutifully, they all presented themselves in a line on the floor.
"Come sit here by me, Daddy," said Katie.
"Oh, no," he said, "I'm on this side of the discussion."
And so I began: "You guys have been giving us a hard time for weeks now at bedtime. I've been thinking it over, and I've decided that perhaps you just don't know what THE RULES are. So, I'm going to tell you all THE RULES, and then we will expect you all to follow THE RULES. In a few minutes we will say prayers, and then we will tuck you all into your beds and say goodnight. At that point, it is bedtime. THE RULES are that you will lie on your beds, close your mouths, close your eyes, and go to sleep. You will not talk. You will not go get a drink of water. You will not go to the bathroom. You will not stop by your brothers' or sister's bedroom on the way to the bathroom to see what they are doing. You will not come downstairs to tell us all the rule breaking your siblings are doing."
At this point, Katie raises her hand. She is on the verge of tears, but she's been on the verge of tears for five years now. She barely manages to squeak out her question. "But when are we supposed to go to the bathroom?" Katie happens to be our worst bedtime offender.
"NOW, Katie. You see, when we send you up to get ready for bed, we expect you to get ready for bed: wash up, pajamas on, teeth brushed, bathroom, drink of water, all that. So when we tuck you in and say goodnight, you're all ready to go to sleep."
"But what if we really have to go to the bathroom, Mom?" Fritz is old enough to reason that we don't really want wet beds either, so which "rule" is going to win? I know if you give a kid an exception to a rule, you will deal with exceptions for an hour every night, since that's been the problem for the last few months.
"Going to the bathroom after bedtime is against THE RULES. If you have to go, I suggest you not get caught. And the best way to not get caught is to go right there, hurry up and get back to bed fast. If you take a long time, stop to admire yourself in the mirror, swing by your sisters' room to tell them what you're doing or invite your brother to keep you company, you WILL get caught."
"Oh." Hmmm...breaking THE RULES but not getting caught...interesting concept...
"OK, let's review: after bedtime, are you supposed to stay in bed?"
"YES," comes a chorus of voices.
"Will you talk to your brother or sister or sing or jump around or read out loud?"
"NO," comes a chorus of voices.
"Good. Now, infractions are punishable - possibly by spanking. Everybody understand that?"
"YES," comes a chorus of voices.
And so, after prayers there was a bustle of final preparations for bed that should have been done earlier and will be done earlier tonight, and then the kiddies went off to bed. Five minutes later, Bill passed through and did some remindings of the rules, and five minute after that, I passed through and chased a few kids back to bed. And we heard some thumping from the boys' bedroom for about ten more minutes. And when we finally went upstairs, we found Katie in her usual spot - sleeping at the top of the stairs, because she's scared of the dark in her room.
{We allow her to leave the bedroom door all the way open and she's turned her pillow to be at the foot of her bed and right by the door - basically it is just as light by her head in her room as it is in the hall, but she prefers the hall. This photo was taken last month when she convinced Jenny to sleep with her in the hall.}We did not spend an hour telling kids to be quiet, so I think it was a success, despite the minor infractions.
And thanks to Advil, the teething toddler made it all the way through the night without waking. Wow. I think I can take on the world after all this rest.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
The things you do for love...
I think I'm going to gag.
I just ordered a present for my son Billy for Christmas. I ordered it from the Cincinnati Bengals online Pro Shop.
aaaackkk!!!!!
I just ordered a present for my son Billy for Christmas. I ordered it from the Cincinnati Bengals online Pro Shop.
aaaackkk!!!!!
Friday, November 24, 2006
The Stockings
The final product
Army Christmas Stocking
ACU camouflage pattern
$20 plus shipping and handling
This is what it looks like with the US ARMY tape on the top velcro and a unit patch on the bottom velcro. Those are not included.
This is what it looks like with "stuff" in it. The "stuff" is not included.Email me (on sidebar) if you want one. Lead times depend on how well my kids behave over the next week. All proceeds will go directly to a worthy military family (mine).
Angoraknitter and Jennie can claim free ones for their hubbies because they regularly leave such nice comments on my blog (email me your address, ok?).
2009 Updated link with new photo
My husband, my hero
When Bill was deployed to Kosovo in 2003, we lived in a wholly civilian neighborhood. Most people I knew did not know one single other person in the military - not a cousin or a nephew or even a brother of a friend.
When things went wrong with the house or household appliances, I first tried calling friends to see if they wouldn't mind loaning their husbands to come and take care of this or that. These were really good friends who helped me tremendously while Bill was gone and who would have gladly sawed off their husband's left arm if it would have alleviated some of my suffering. But in response to my request to fix a storm door, they ALL said, "He's just not handy like that." I couldn't believe they accepted that excuse.
Bill is not afraid of inanimate objects.
So when I pushed the button to start the dryer this morning and it made a horrible sound and emitted a burning smell, I fled to my brave knight and petitioned his assistance. He put down his freshly poured bowl of cereal and came to see what was the matter. I demonstrated the dryer's bad behavior, and he (God bless him) immediately, although a bit grumpily, motioned to begin battle. Soothed by his confident and calm demeanor, I bade him finish his breakfast first.
After eating and changing out of his pajamas, he took apart the machine to discover that a pencil had gotten sucked in - probably through the lint trap - and had jammed the belt. Can you imagine the jubilant cheers that arose upon news of his triumphant victory? Had I had fresh flowers, I'd have thrown them at his feet or possibly woven them into a crown. The bleak threat of hauling loads of wet clothes to a laundromat to dry was dissipated in a moment and there was joy in all the land.
At least in my neck of it!
When things went wrong with the house or household appliances, I first tried calling friends to see if they wouldn't mind loaning their husbands to come and take care of this or that. These were really good friends who helped me tremendously while Bill was gone and who would have gladly sawed off their husband's left arm if it would have alleviated some of my suffering. But in response to my request to fix a storm door, they ALL said, "He's just not handy like that." I couldn't believe they accepted that excuse.
Bill is not afraid of inanimate objects.
So when I pushed the button to start the dryer this morning and it made a horrible sound and emitted a burning smell, I fled to my brave knight and petitioned his assistance. He put down his freshly poured bowl of cereal and came to see what was the matter. I demonstrated the dryer's bad behavior, and he (God bless him) immediately, although a bit grumpily, motioned to begin battle. Soothed by his confident and calm demeanor, I bade him finish his breakfast first.
After eating and changing out of his pajamas, he took apart the machine to discover that a pencil had gotten sucked in - probably through the lint trap - and had jammed the belt. Can you imagine the jubilant cheers that arose upon news of his triumphant victory? Had I had fresh flowers, I'd have thrown them at his feet or possibly woven them into a crown. The bleak threat of hauling loads of wet clothes to a laundromat to dry was dissipated in a moment and there was joy in all the land.
At least in my neck of it!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Do you have a MOOS-stash?
Under normal circumstances, I and most people I know pronounce the word "mustache" as "mus-STASH." For a few weeks now, Fritz has been working on memorizing The Children's Hour by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow which includes this lovely line:
Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all?
When I first read it, it seemed more flowing to soften the "uh" sound to an "oo" so it came out more like "moos-STASH."
"MOOS-stash?" asked Fritz.
"Yeah, mus-STASH. He's defining himself by one feature on his face. It's a literary technique...blah blah blah," said Teacher-Mom.
"MOOS-stash? MOOS-stash!"
Yes, all he really cared was that he was now at liberty to pronounce a word differently. And now all my children, for weeks it's been going on, look for excuses to use that word.
Whenever they drink milk, a more-than-once-a-day occurrence, they ask each other, "Do I have a MOOS-stash?" "No," comes the reply, "do I have a MOOS-stash?"
"Daddy should grow a MOOS-stash!"
"Hey, the UPS driver has a MOOS-stash!"
I'm afraid to take them out in public lest they single out every man with facial hair and talk about him in loud voices with odd-sounding words!
Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all?
When I first read it, it seemed more flowing to soften the "uh" sound to an "oo" so it came out more like "moos-STASH."
"MOOS-stash?" asked Fritz.
"Yeah, mus-STASH. He's defining himself by one feature on his face. It's a literary technique...blah blah blah," said Teacher-Mom.
"MOOS-stash? MOOS-stash!"
Yes, all he really cared was that he was now at liberty to pronounce a word differently. And now all my children, for weeks it's been going on, look for excuses to use that word.
Whenever they drink milk, a more-than-once-a-day occurrence, they ask each other, "Do I have a MOOS-stash?" "No," comes the reply, "do I have a MOOS-stash?"
"Daddy should grow a MOOS-stash!"
"Hey, the UPS driver has a MOOS-stash!"
I'm afraid to take them out in public lest they single out every man with facial hair and talk about him in loud voices with odd-sounding words!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
ACU Christmas stockings
I'm almost ready to go:
I've got 30 yards of ACU fabric, 30 yards of faux fur, and 25 yards each of 1" and 4" wide gray Velcro.
We couldn't find our stash of 550 cord, so I need to buy some of that, and I also need more white and gray thread.
Bill took in a sample stocking today sans Velcro (it only arrived here an hour ago). I'm waiting for the green light to begin the tedious task of cutting.
I should have photos posted tomorrow and a final price. I need to time myself making them to evaluate my labor. The biggest pain is sewing through 4 layers of faux fur!
The PX is selling ACU pattern stockings for $18. I did a recon today, after my husband alerted me to this possible threat to my business. No faux fur. Big plastic pocket in the middle for a wallet sized photo of your "Most Valuable Patriot."
I'm not knocking it.
But mine is way cooler.
2009 Updated link with pricing/photo
Updated for 2011: I'm still selling these, folks. I can make them left or right facing. They are $20 + $2 to cover the cost for Paypal + $5.20 S&H. Just send me an email or leave a comment.
I've got 30 yards of ACU fabric, 30 yards of faux fur, and 25 yards each of 1" and 4" wide gray Velcro.
We couldn't find our stash of 550 cord, so I need to buy some of that, and I also need more white and gray thread.
Bill took in a sample stocking today sans Velcro (it only arrived here an hour ago). I'm waiting for the green light to begin the tedious task of cutting.
I should have photos posted tomorrow and a final price. I need to time myself making them to evaluate my labor. The biggest pain is sewing through 4 layers of faux fur!
The PX is selling ACU pattern stockings for $18. I did a recon today, after my husband alerted me to this possible threat to my business. No faux fur. Big plastic pocket in the middle for a wallet sized photo of your "Most Valuable Patriot."
I'm not knocking it.
But mine is way cooler.
2009 Updated link with pricing/photo
Updated for 2011: I'm still selling these, folks. I can make them left or right facing. They are $20 + $2 to cover the cost for Paypal + $5.20 S&H. Just send me an email or leave a comment.
Monday, November 20, 2006
It's in the DNA...
...it must be. How else to explain my 5 year old staring at a closet full of clothes and wailing, "I have nothing to wear!"
Today's big event: sitting around the house relaxing. What's a girl to do? Why is this mother so very unsympathetic with her plight? After all, one must be properly attired. You never know what the day may bring.
Ah, she's settled on her Green Bay Packers cheerleading uniform. Perfect.
Today's big event: sitting around the house relaxing. What's a girl to do? Why is this mother so very unsympathetic with her plight? After all, one must be properly attired. You never know what the day may bring.
Ah, she's settled on her Green Bay Packers cheerleading uniform. Perfect.
Looney
Jenny: Daddy, I'm the roadrunner!
Daddy: Are you?
Jenny: Uh-Huh!
And then she takes off running saying, "Mee-meep!"
Daddy: Are you?
Jenny: Uh-Huh!
And then she takes off running saying, "Mee-meep!"
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
Day 50, Week 10
I've scheduled a hard break after week ten - meaning we're taking all next week off. Hooray. Billy and Katie managed to get all their work done in a timely fashion, but Fritz, ever the foot dragger, had trouble getting his math done. He has six long division problems left for today (I'm sure he'll drag it out for the next hour). Then he'll have just one math test to do, and I'll probably make him do it tomorrow just to get it over with. In all fairness to him, we ran out of time for school on Monday and Tuesday and so he's had to do 5 lessons in 3 days. It's a lot of work.
I've been using Abeka math from the beginning. I think it's an excellent program. Last week, a friend told me that her 1st grader (Fairfax County public schools - among the best in the nation) is being moved up to 2nd grade math. The first graders aren't doing addition yet. Katie, my kindergartner, is about half-way through the very easy Abeka K math, and is doing addition.
Yesterday, another friend whose son, like Fritz, is in the 3rd grade (Fairfax County public schools) asked me what Fritz was doing in math. I showed her that day's assignment: adding numbers like $56.87 to $42.55, multiplying 23,765 by 6, basic word problems, what time does the clock say, write the Roman numerals from one to twelve, and dividing numbers like 5,421 by 5 (using remainders). Her son isn't even doing multiplication yet. Not even 2 times 5.
Today's assignment made me drop my jaw: pre-algebra!
N + 5 = 12 + 6
Solve for N.
I can see that Abeka has been leading up to this moment for years. In 1st grade math, a child has to fill in the blank with the right number for problems like blank + 2 = 5. In 3rd grade, you get N + 5 = 18. Abeka is not having the student subtract 5 from both sides, and I am frustrated that it doesn't, since that's how I learned algebra. But for now, I'll trust the program and see where it heads (and I'll teach Fritz to subtract 5 from both sides!).
But here we are at the close of business on Friday with most of what we set out to accomplish in 10 weeks done. I look forward to "relaxing" next week - I have 30 yards of ACU pattern fabric due to arrive on Monday.
I've been using Abeka math from the beginning. I think it's an excellent program. Last week, a friend told me that her 1st grader (Fairfax County public schools - among the best in the nation) is being moved up to 2nd grade math. The first graders aren't doing addition yet. Katie, my kindergartner, is about half-way through the very easy Abeka K math, and is doing addition.
Yesterday, another friend whose son, like Fritz, is in the 3rd grade (Fairfax County public schools) asked me what Fritz was doing in math. I showed her that day's assignment: adding numbers like $56.87 to $42.55, multiplying 23,765 by 6, basic word problems, what time does the clock say, write the Roman numerals from one to twelve, and dividing numbers like 5,421 by 5 (using remainders). Her son isn't even doing multiplication yet. Not even 2 times 5.
Today's assignment made me drop my jaw: pre-algebra!
N + 5 = 12 + 6
Solve for N.
I can see that Abeka has been leading up to this moment for years. In 1st grade math, a child has to fill in the blank with the right number for problems like blank + 2 = 5. In 3rd grade, you get N + 5 = 18. Abeka is not having the student subtract 5 from both sides, and I am frustrated that it doesn't, since that's how I learned algebra. But for now, I'll trust the program and see where it heads (and I'll teach Fritz to subtract 5 from both sides!).
But here we are at the close of business on Friday with most of what we set out to accomplish in 10 weeks done. I look forward to "relaxing" next week - I have 30 yards of ACU pattern fabric due to arrive on Monday.
Blessings
I can't believe I've waited this long to post this news.
I am truly overwhelmed with blessings from God. In fact, I am so overwhelmed with blessings from God, that I frequently take them for granted. Oh, well, look at that, another miracle...ho hum...
On good days, I recognize the gift and offer suitable praise: not just a Hallelujah, but also by telling everyone I know about how awesome God is and the wonderful things He has done for me. Sometimes it takes me days or weeks to recognize the work of the Divine Master in my life. Most of the time, I realize that God is good, say a thank you, and then promptly move on with my life.
Such was the case this week.
As you may know, Fritz was diagnosed in July with a cyst in his jaw. In August, he had a biopsy and a week later we learned that it was a dentigerous cyst. He had a stent placed in his mouth to drain the cyst and to promote growth of his jawbone which was dangerously thin (no sports for fear of fracture). For seven weeks, we went once a week for a checkup at Walter Reed (an hour there and an hour back in travel alone). Then we had a three week respite, and then a month-long break. At his last two appointments, they took x-rays of his jaw.
On Monday, the oral surgeon looked at the x-ray and remarked, "It's gone!" In August, he had told us that it might take 6 to 9 months for the cyst to shrink. It has been less than three. He was a bit surprised. I'm not. God is that good. I'm happy, but not at all surprised. Well, I am surprised that He blesses me so abundantly given all the crap I give Him in return. But I'm not surprised that He has made it happen. Miracles are just another common everyday event around here: they're about as remarkable as the sun rising.
The oral surgeon turned to the new resident who had seen Fritz that day. He explained Fritz's diagnosis and treatment (Fritz is a learning case; I think every resident has seen him). I was elated when the oral surgeon said, "It turned out to be a dentigerous cyst, thank God." Yes, I silently agreed, thank God.
As we were driving to the appointment, Fritz had been asking some questions about his case. In the past three months, he has done a fair amount of complaining about the stent and his treatment. This time, he wasn't complaining, he was just asking about it. I told him that he was really lucky. I told him that the docs thought it might be cancer and that he could have been fighting for his life. I told him that the docs thought it might be an OKC, a hard-to-eradicate cyst, and he might have had to spend his whole life dealing with problems in his jaw. He finally got it. He finally realized that he is the recipient of a miracle.
Praise God.
The soonest they could get him in again is December 18th. They will sedate him, remove the stent and clean out anything remaining of the cyst. I'm sure he'll have to go back in a week for a follow up, but after that, he'll just go to his orthodontist to figure out how to get his adult teeth in his jaw properly. And that's that.
Besides thanking God for my son's health and speedy recovery, I'd like to thank all my family, friends and fellow bloggers who offered up prayers on his behalf. Most especially, I'd like to acknowledge the celestial assistance of two saints: St. Apollonia, the patron of tooth problems who will continue to be petitioned by me for her prayers until Fritz's adult teeth grow in properly, and St. John Newmann to whom our family prayed a novena before Fritz's biopsy when we feared he had cancer. I found the novena in a book I love: (Mention Your Request Here): The Church's Most Powerful Novenas by Michael Dubruiel. This book has been updated and is due for re-release later this month. I highly recommend it.
And now, back to life as usual. I wonder what fantastic, miraculous gift God will give me today...
...yawn...
I am truly overwhelmed with blessings from God. In fact, I am so overwhelmed with blessings from God, that I frequently take them for granted. Oh, well, look at that, another miracle...ho hum...
On good days, I recognize the gift and offer suitable praise: not just a Hallelujah, but also by telling everyone I know about how awesome God is and the wonderful things He has done for me. Sometimes it takes me days or weeks to recognize the work of the Divine Master in my life. Most of the time, I realize that God is good, say a thank you, and then promptly move on with my life.
Such was the case this week.
As you may know, Fritz was diagnosed in July with a cyst in his jaw. In August, he had a biopsy and a week later we learned that it was a dentigerous cyst. He had a stent placed in his mouth to drain the cyst and to promote growth of his jawbone which was dangerously thin (no sports for fear of fracture). For seven weeks, we went once a week for a checkup at Walter Reed (an hour there and an hour back in travel alone). Then we had a three week respite, and then a month-long break. At his last two appointments, they took x-rays of his jaw.
On Monday, the oral surgeon looked at the x-ray and remarked, "It's gone!" In August, he had told us that it might take 6 to 9 months for the cyst to shrink. It has been less than three. He was a bit surprised. I'm not. God is that good. I'm happy, but not at all surprised. Well, I am surprised that He blesses me so abundantly given all the crap I give Him in return. But I'm not surprised that He has made it happen. Miracles are just another common everyday event around here: they're about as remarkable as the sun rising.
The oral surgeon turned to the new resident who had seen Fritz that day. He explained Fritz's diagnosis and treatment (Fritz is a learning case; I think every resident has seen him). I was elated when the oral surgeon said, "It turned out to be a dentigerous cyst, thank God." Yes, I silently agreed, thank God.
As we were driving to the appointment, Fritz had been asking some questions about his case. In the past three months, he has done a fair amount of complaining about the stent and his treatment. This time, he wasn't complaining, he was just asking about it. I told him that he was really lucky. I told him that the docs thought it might be cancer and that he could have been fighting for his life. I told him that the docs thought it might be an OKC, a hard-to-eradicate cyst, and he might have had to spend his whole life dealing with problems in his jaw. He finally got it. He finally realized that he is the recipient of a miracle.
Praise God.
The soonest they could get him in again is December 18th. They will sedate him, remove the stent and clean out anything remaining of the cyst. I'm sure he'll have to go back in a week for a follow up, but after that, he'll just go to his orthodontist to figure out how to get his adult teeth in his jaw properly. And that's that.
Besides thanking God for my son's health and speedy recovery, I'd like to thank all my family, friends and fellow bloggers who offered up prayers on his behalf. Most especially, I'd like to acknowledge the celestial assistance of two saints: St. Apollonia, the patron of tooth problems who will continue to be petitioned by me for her prayers until Fritz's adult teeth grow in properly, and St. John Newmann to whom our family prayed a novena before Fritz's biopsy when we feared he had cancer. I found the novena in a book I love: (Mention Your Request Here): The Church's Most Powerful Novenas by Michael Dubruiel. This book has been updated and is due for re-release later this month. I highly recommend it.
And now, back to life as usual. I wonder what fantastic, miraculous gift God will give me today...
...yawn...
USPS with a great idea
I got a little post card from the post office in the mail yesterday. In fact, unbelievably, it was the only thing in the mail box. No catalogs, no bills, no circulars. Two days ago, we had only catalogs - about 4, I think.
Anyway, the post card contained news that makes me very happy: the post office will pick up packages from your house!!! They have two flat rate boxes which should be the right size for most of the little care packages I intended to send to family - one size is 8 1/2" x 11" x 5 1/2". So, I have to pay for the box instead of using the ones I've been saving and storing in my garage, and the flat rate of $8.10 (Priority Mail) might be a little more than what it would cost if I trudged down to the post office and waited in line for a half hour with 5 kids including a tantruming toddler and bi-polar preschooler. But one has to seriously consider how much it would be worth it to avoid waiting in line for a half hour with a tantruming toddler and a bi-polar preschooler. I often ask myself: if there were a 16 year old seeking employment who lived next door to me, would I be willing to pay him/her $10 to run this errand for me? If the answer is yes, then the extra shipping or service charge or whatever is worth it.
Hmmm...I'll have to remember this idea when my son gets to driving age. I don't know if we'll still be homeschooling him for high school, but I think an errand service could be an excellent way to make money: grocery store, post office, pharmacy, dry cleaners. Market his service to stay-at-home moms with little ones, and he'd have a steady stream of customers.
I've already resolved, when my daughters are old enough, to start a house cleaning business with them. If they spent a few years under my tutelage doing that, they could do it themselves and make some serious dollars. Why work retail or fast food for minimum wage when you can earn $30 an hour (under the table) vacuuming rugs? I really wish I had thought of this when I was in college. It would have been nice to have some extradrinking money.
Anyway, the post card contained news that makes me very happy: the post office will pick up packages from your house!!! They have two flat rate boxes which should be the right size for most of the little care packages I intended to send to family - one size is 8 1/2" x 11" x 5 1/2". So, I have to pay for the box instead of using the ones I've been saving and storing in my garage, and the flat rate of $8.10 (Priority Mail) might be a little more than what it would cost if I trudged down to the post office and waited in line for a half hour with 5 kids including a tantruming toddler and bi-polar preschooler. But one has to seriously consider how much it would be worth it to avoid waiting in line for a half hour with a tantruming toddler and a bi-polar preschooler. I often ask myself: if there were a 16 year old seeking employment who lived next door to me, would I be willing to pay him/her $10 to run this errand for me? If the answer is yes, then the extra shipping or service charge or whatever is worth it.
Hmmm...I'll have to remember this idea when my son gets to driving age. I don't know if we'll still be homeschooling him for high school, but I think an errand service could be an excellent way to make money: grocery store, post office, pharmacy, dry cleaners. Market his service to stay-at-home moms with little ones, and he'd have a steady stream of customers.
I've already resolved, when my daughters are old enough, to start a house cleaning business with them. If they spent a few years under my tutelage doing that, they could do it themselves and make some serious dollars. Why work retail or fast food for minimum wage when you can earn $30 an hour (under the table) vacuuming rugs? I really wish I had thought of this when I was in college. It would have been nice to have some extra
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Crunch and Munch
It is recess time. I sit at my computer eating Crunch and Munch. I'm not happy that this huge can of Crunch and Munch is even in my house. I bought it to help support my sons' cub scout troop. After weeks of sitting unopened in my living room, I finally caved last night and exposed the sweet joy contained therein. I told my husband, after I consumed half the can, that he was to take it to work with him today.
He forgot. I forgot.
So far, three of the kids have tasted the Crunch and Munch. Pete likes it. Fritz refused to try it, and I had to practically force one tiny piece into his mouth. He continued to believe that it was yucky. This demonstrates to me why some people can persist in believing something despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. It's all mind over matter.
Jenny tried it after I used the word "candy" to describe it. She didn't like it.
Katie just walked in and tried it. She doesn't like it.
I called Billy in, and he likes it. If this child were not so bizarre in every other aspect of his personality, I would be thanking God that I had one normal child.
Unfortunately, I think I have none (it's way too early to make the call on Petey).
Time to end recess. Still a good quarter of the can left to eat after lunch...now I have to fight Billy for it.
He forgot. I forgot.
So far, three of the kids have tasted the Crunch and Munch. Pete likes it. Fritz refused to try it, and I had to practically force one tiny piece into his mouth. He continued to believe that it was yucky. This demonstrates to me why some people can persist in believing something despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. It's all mind over matter.
Jenny tried it after I used the word "candy" to describe it. She didn't like it.
Katie just walked in and tried it. She doesn't like it.
I called Billy in, and he likes it. If this child were not so bizarre in every other aspect of his personality, I would be thanking God that I had one normal child.
Unfortunately, I think I have none (it's way too early to make the call on Petey).
Time to end recess. Still a good quarter of the can left to eat after lunch...now I have to fight Billy for it.
Movies, TV and vocabulary
I found a trackerball at eBay for cheap. It's the same as my current one, so all I'll have to do is pop the new ball into my old mouse and not deal with the mess of wires behind my CPU. Now I just have to wait for it to get here, and hope my hand doesn't hurt too much.
A few minutes ago, Billy asked me what "affiliated" meant. I explained it to him and asked where he learned the word. He quoted some lines from The Incredibles, giving me yet one more reason to love this movie.
I enjoy movies as much as anybody, but have always considered life to be too short to watch them more than once. I'd rather read a good book five times than watch a good movie twice. However, when one has kids, repetition is forced upon you. If it's not TV shows or movies, it's books or songs over and over again. My mom had (still has, perhaps) The Cat in the Hat memorized. I used to recite The Big Red Barn to Billy as he impatiently flipped the pages of the book when he was Petey's age.
But I don't mind watching The Incredibles over and over. Perhaps it's because I've never actually seen the whole thing from beginning to end without pause. I've seen the whole movie, just not all at once. {Insert grumbling about little children here.} But I just think it's a really good story.
I liked it so much, I actually purchased the DVD which is not normal for me. Aside from strictly children's shows (Thomas, Disney, even a Spongebob or two), the vast bulk of DVDs we own were bought by Bill. I assure you, I had no say in the decision to buy the complete collection of Mr. Bean. I'm happy to own the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but Bill gave them to me for Christmas. I don't buy DVDs, but I also rarely have the time to watch them. Our Netflix rentals sit here for weeks.
Recently, I threatened the kids with removal of the TV from the living quarters (specifically, I said I was going to put it in the garage). The kids have certain times of the day they are permitted to watch TV: before school, during lunch, and after school. Rarely is the TV on after 6 pm. If friends come over to play, which happens frequently, the TV is usually off. If the weather is nice, the TV is off. On the weekends, the TV is on football, unless the weather is extremely nice and then I put my foot down and we all go outside. But those hours of TV viewing are sacred to my kids, and the idea of not having a TV was horrifying.
Billy suggested that I would be in big trouble with Dad if I put the TV in the garage. I probably would be! But I said I was willing to deal with his wrath. I also said that I could easily put our one TV in our bedroom and lock the door. {Idle threats: I really don't want a TV in my bedroom - I may never conceive again!} Then he said that I would really miss the TV. I pointed out to him that I almost never watch it in the first place. I think this fact hit home, and his attitude became a bit more cooperative.
Now if only all the shows they watch would teach them 5 syllable words, I'd probably never threaten to remove that valuable resource. Alas for them, I'm confident that most of their new words will be ones they've heard me use or read in a story. Even if we have to read those books over and over again.
A few minutes ago, Billy asked me what "affiliated" meant. I explained it to him and asked where he learned the word. He quoted some lines from The Incredibles, giving me yet one more reason to love this movie.
I enjoy movies as much as anybody, but have always considered life to be too short to watch them more than once. I'd rather read a good book five times than watch a good movie twice. However, when one has kids, repetition is forced upon you. If it's not TV shows or movies, it's books or songs over and over again. My mom had (still has, perhaps) The Cat in the Hat memorized. I used to recite The Big Red Barn to Billy as he impatiently flipped the pages of the book when he was Petey's age.
But I don't mind watching The Incredibles over and over. Perhaps it's because I've never actually seen the whole thing from beginning to end without pause. I've seen the whole movie, just not all at once. {Insert grumbling about little children here.} But I just think it's a really good story.
I liked it so much, I actually purchased the DVD which is not normal for me. Aside from strictly children's shows (Thomas, Disney, even a Spongebob or two), the vast bulk of DVDs we own were bought by Bill. I assure you, I had no say in the decision to buy the complete collection of Mr. Bean. I'm happy to own the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but Bill gave them to me for Christmas. I don't buy DVDs, but I also rarely have the time to watch them. Our Netflix rentals sit here for weeks.
Recently, I threatened the kids with removal of the TV from the living quarters (specifically, I said I was going to put it in the garage). The kids have certain times of the day they are permitted to watch TV: before school, during lunch, and after school. Rarely is the TV on after 6 pm. If friends come over to play, which happens frequently, the TV is usually off. If the weather is nice, the TV is off. On the weekends, the TV is on football, unless the weather is extremely nice and then I put my foot down and we all go outside. But those hours of TV viewing are sacred to my kids, and the idea of not having a TV was horrifying.
Billy suggested that I would be in big trouble with Dad if I put the TV in the garage. I probably would be! But I said I was willing to deal with his wrath. I also said that I could easily put our one TV in our bedroom and lock the door. {Idle threats: I really don't want a TV in my bedroom - I may never conceive again!} Then he said that I would really miss the TV. I pointed out to him that I almost never watch it in the first place. I think this fact hit home, and his attitude became a bit more cooperative.
Now if only all the shows they watch would teach them 5 syllable words, I'd probably never threaten to remove that valuable resource. Alas for them, I'm confident that most of their new words will be ones they've heard me use or read in a story. Even if we have to read those books over and over again.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Hiatus
I'll be taking a few days off from the computer. A few days ago, Pete and Jenny removed the ball from my Trackball and played catch with it. Since they aren't very good at the "catch" part of catch, it fell on the porcelain tile (the one small bit of it in the entire house) and cracked the outer shell of the ball rendering it completely useless for anything, but most especially for use as a Trackball. I have a generic mouse, but using it makes my hand (and forearm) hurt really badly. Typing is okay, but clicking, highlighting and dragging and dropping really cause me problems that don't stop when I walk away from the computer.
{Sigh}
Jenny gets in moods where the only thing I can expect from her is trouble. These moments can last for hours, but fortunately their frequency is diminishing to perhaps once a week. If one of her trouble-making sessions coincides with one of Pete's nothing in the house is safe! The rest of the time, though, Jenny can be pretty amusing and charming.
Yesterday afternoon, she lay down on the kitchen floor and stretched her arms out toward her feet and over her head. How big am I, Mommy? This big? I assured her that yes, she was that big - a big girl.
Then...can I have gum?
Her heart's desire is to be big enough to be allowed to have gum. And too soon she will be.
{Sigh}
Jenny gets in moods where the only thing I can expect from her is trouble. These moments can last for hours, but fortunately their frequency is diminishing to perhaps once a week. If one of her trouble-making sessions coincides with one of Pete's nothing in the house is safe! The rest of the time, though, Jenny can be pretty amusing and charming.
Yesterday afternoon, she lay down on the kitchen floor and stretched her arms out toward her feet and over her head. How big am I, Mommy? This big? I assured her that yes, she was that big - a big girl.
Then...can I have gum?
Her heart's desire is to be big enough to be allowed to have gum. And too soon she will be.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Friday
Since Bill was home on Friday, I reduced the boys' already light workload to just math.
And since Bill was home on Friday, I left him in charge of school and went to the grocery store. Bill sat the boys down, told them to do their work, and walked away. Several minutes later, he returned to check on them and discovered they had accomplished very little. Billy, though, was very proud of his doodle of the Flash that he had made on his math worksheet. Bill was so frustrated that he grabbed an eraser and removed all traces of Billy's artwork!
The math pages eventually got done. I'm not sure if the boys learned anything new to add to their expanding knowledge of math, but I think they learned one thing: Dad is one substitute teacher you don't want to have!
Friday afternoon we went to Gunston Hall which had been the home of George Mason. George Mason wrote the Virginia Declaration of Rights which is strongly echoed in The Declaration of Independence and was the basis for the U.S. Bill of Rights:
George Mason was one of three delegates to the Constitutional Convention who refused to sign the Constitution because of the lack of a bill of rights (as was later added). Gunston Hall is a much smaller historical site than the nearby Mount Vernon, but the intimacy of the property and it's lesser fame gives one a greater access to the wealth of knowledge contained therein: in other words, there were no lines.
We didn't stay long: neither the children nor ourselves were up for a long visit. But we got a good enough flavor of the place to feel it was "done," and left enough to warrant a future visit the next time we live in the area. As we were driving off the property, Bill slowed the van to a crawl and pointed to two deer - one on each side of the car. Since they were standing perfectly still, it took a bit for the girls to spot them. Finally one started moving, and Katie asked why.
Me: I guess he doesn't feel we are a threat any more.
Fritz: What's a "threat?"
Me: A danger.
Katie: Why would a deer think we were a danger?
Fritz: Some people kill deer!
Billy: Yeah, they eat it!
Fritz: They eat the meat!
Billy: That rhymes!
Fritz: Eat...meat! It rhymes!
Me: It's quite a feat, to eat, the deer's meat.
Fritz: Sweet!
Bill: What a treat! How neat!
Of course, the backdrop of this rhyming game is the look of horror on Katie's face now that she knows Bambi could be dinner.
And since Bill was home on Friday, I left him in charge of school and went to the grocery store. Bill sat the boys down, told them to do their work, and walked away. Several minutes later, he returned to check on them and discovered they had accomplished very little. Billy, though, was very proud of his doodle of the Flash that he had made on his math worksheet. Bill was so frustrated that he grabbed an eraser and removed all traces of Billy's artwork!
The math pages eventually got done. I'm not sure if the boys learned anything new to add to their expanding knowledge of math, but I think they learned one thing: Dad is one substitute teacher you don't want to have!
Friday afternoon we went to Gunston Hall which had been the home of George Mason. George Mason wrote the Virginia Declaration of Rights which is strongly echoed in The Declaration of Independence and was the basis for the U.S. Bill of Rights:
That all men are by nature equally free and independent and have certain inherent rights, of which, when they enter into a state of society, they cannot, by any compact, deprive or divest their posterity; namely, the enjoyment of life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety.
George Mason was one of three delegates to the Constitutional Convention who refused to sign the Constitution because of the lack of a bill of rights (as was later added). Gunston Hall is a much smaller historical site than the nearby Mount Vernon, but the intimacy of the property and it's lesser fame gives one a greater access to the wealth of knowledge contained therein: in other words, there were no lines.
We didn't stay long: neither the children nor ourselves were up for a long visit. But we got a good enough flavor of the place to feel it was "done," and left enough to warrant a future visit the next time we live in the area. As we were driving off the property, Bill slowed the van to a crawl and pointed to two deer - one on each side of the car. Since they were standing perfectly still, it took a bit for the girls to spot them. Finally one started moving, and Katie asked why.
Me: I guess he doesn't feel we are a threat any more.
Fritz: What's a "threat?"
Me: A danger.
Katie: Why would a deer think we were a danger?
Fritz: Some people kill deer!
Billy: Yeah, they eat it!
Fritz: They eat the meat!
Billy: That rhymes!
Fritz: Eat...meat! It rhymes!
Me: It's quite a feat, to eat, the deer's meat.
Fritz: Sweet!
Bill: What a treat! How neat!
Of course, the backdrop of this rhyming game is the look of horror on Katie's face now that she knows Bambi could be dinner.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Veteran's Day
Yesterday was Veteran's Day Observed, and Bill had the day off work.
Today is the actual Veteran's Day, and Bill has to work. I'm a bit grumpy about it, but I'll offer it up for all the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines who fought for our freedoms or served our country in the armed forces especially my own Dad (Air Force), my Mom (an officer and a gentleman in the Navy), and my Father-in-Law (Army). Thank you all for your many sacrifices.
Bill is attending a ceremony in Missouri honoring four Medal of Honor recipients:
Bill's sister, Margaret, will be coming over tonight for dinner and cake to celebrate her birthday. Hopefully, Bill will be home before she leaves.
Be sure to thank a veteran today. If you don't know anyone, you can always send an email to a deployed soldier.
Today is the actual Veteran's Day, and Bill has to work. I'm a bit grumpy about it, but I'll offer it up for all the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines who fought for our freedoms or served our country in the armed forces especially my own Dad (Air Force), my Mom (an officer and a gentleman in the Navy), and my Father-in-Law (Army). Thank you all for your many sacrifices.
Bill is attending a ceremony in Missouri honoring four Medal of Honor recipients:
The Stars and Stripes Museum/Library will honor four deceased Medal of Honor recipients from the Southeast Missouri area: Sgt. Darrell S. Cole of Flat River, Pvt. Billie G. Kanell of Poplar Bluff, PFC Richard Wilson of Cape Girardeau and 1st Lt. George K. Sissler of Dexter. Ceremonies begin at 2 p.m. with the celebration of the Stars and Stripes newspaper's 145th anniversary. A ceremony honoring the Medal of Honor winners will follow at 2:30 p.m., with Dexter native Lt. Gen. Clyde Vaughn, deputy director for operations for the U.S. Army National Guard, as the featured speaker.
Bill's sister, Margaret, will be coming over tonight for dinner and cake to celebrate her birthday. Hopefully, Bill will be home before she leaves.
Be sure to thank a veteran today. If you don't know anyone, you can always send an email to a deployed soldier.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
To Dad
My sister, Elisabeth, said it best when she declared, "My Daddy stole fire from the sun!" My other sister, Barbara, and I agree completely. Our first and best hero ever is Dad, and today is his 60th birthday.
There are some things Dad taught me for which I am grateful. For one, Dad taught me to have a very healthy and generous amount of disrespect for authority. Lots of people talk about not trusting government or big business as a theory; for me, though, it is a tenet that these entities must be warily monitored at all times. In fact, I stopped supporting the death penalty - not because of the exhortations of Pope John Paul II (I was very very sad that I disagreed with him) - but because, in 2000, columnist George Will successfully argued (to me) that government by its very nature was incapable of making an error-free judgment, and, in the case of capital punishment where you can't ever assign monetary reparation in the event of a mistake, it was grossly unfair to allow someone to be executed by mistake.
As a teenager, my Mom would often muse that perhaps my blondish hair and blue eyes might have spared my life in Nazi Germany (we're not German, she was just using this as an example), but surely my lack of respect for authority would have had my head on the chopping block. Since I'd have much rather died than collaborated with that regime, I would have had my Dad to sincerely thank for my premature death.
But Dad is pretty clever, and I'd like to think he taught me a thing or two about not getting caught. Perhaps, had I lived in Nazi Germany, I might have done much good (if I could have managed to keep my mouth shut). "If you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin', " is one thing my Dad always said. I think he must have driven my poor Mom nuts. I cheated once in the 5th grade, and I didn't get caught, but my cohorts did. I never ever cheated again, and if I had, I think my Dad would have been really disappointed in me. Dad's lesson wasn't so much that one should cheat to get through life, but that sometimes you have to do what you have to do regardless of the rules. And sometimes, it is better to not be overt about not following the rules. Those who publicly ranted about the Nazis found themselves in Dachau; those who were quietly opposed sheltered Jews and saved their lives.
My Dad also taught me everything I know about courage, loyalty, and standing by my convictions all the time. When my friends got caught cheating and I didn't, I stepped forward and confessed my role (Dad's probably cringing over that: I think men have a different code whereby the fewest number of guilty parties hang as possible and the others chastise them for getting caught and commend them for not ratting the others out). My teacher was so overwhelmed by my actions, she (female teacher of course, I doubt this would have worked with a male teacher) wagged her finger and told us to go and sin no more.
Perhaps Dad would have behaved differently in that situation, but it is his behavior in other smaller things that is reflected in my loyalty to my friends that day. I have never in thirty-five years heard my Dad issue an oath stronger than "Jiminy-Christmas!" or "Criminy!" Dad was in the Air Force, and he was a para-rescueman. He has stories about bar-fights. I can't imagine that he didn't curse when he was a younger man. But at some point, perhaps when he became a Dad, he must have decided that swearing was inappropriate, and he stopped. Forever. If it's wrong, it's wrong all the time.
Dad isn't Catholic, but he vowed to raise his children Catholic. By golly, he stuck to that vow. Never in my teen years could I get him to agree with me that the Church was wrong about some point. That would have been counter to his vow.
When I went off to college, Dad started going to Mass regularly. Years later, I observed him abstaining from meat on Fridays and giving up things for Lent. At some point, he told me he believed in the Real Presence. I just couldn't understand why he didn't convert, except that perhaps he felt that Catholic rituals were optional unless he converted, and then they would be mandatory. Dad is finally going through RCIA now, and will receive the sacraments in April. I fully expect to find my own observation of the Catholic faith challenged for the better as he strives to follow the faith he vows to follow, and I see my own shortcomings in the shadow of his commitment.
But the greatest thing my Dad ever taught me was about love and respect. The more dysfunctional people I meet, and the more functional people from dysfunctional families I know, the more I become aware how lucky I am to have had a mother and a father married and raising their family together. I'm not saying Dad is the perfect dad or the perfect husband, but he honors and respects my mother, and his behavior toward her and the tone he set in our house growing up has been the benchmark by which I have judged my own husband and home life. It's hard, sometimes, for my husband to compete against the man who stole fire from the sun, but he'll be judged by our daughters, not by me.
Happy birthday, Dad. I love you.
There are some things Dad taught me for which I am grateful. For one, Dad taught me to have a very healthy and generous amount of disrespect for authority. Lots of people talk about not trusting government or big business as a theory; for me, though, it is a tenet that these entities must be warily monitored at all times. In fact, I stopped supporting the death penalty - not because of the exhortations of Pope John Paul II (I was very very sad that I disagreed with him) - but because, in 2000, columnist George Will successfully argued (to me) that government by its very nature was incapable of making an error-free judgment, and, in the case of capital punishment where you can't ever assign monetary reparation in the event of a mistake, it was grossly unfair to allow someone to be executed by mistake.
As a teenager, my Mom would often muse that perhaps my blondish hair and blue eyes might have spared my life in Nazi Germany (we're not German, she was just using this as an example), but surely my lack of respect for authority would have had my head on the chopping block. Since I'd have much rather died than collaborated with that regime, I would have had my Dad to sincerely thank for my premature death.
But Dad is pretty clever, and I'd like to think he taught me a thing or two about not getting caught. Perhaps, had I lived in Nazi Germany, I might have done much good (if I could have managed to keep my mouth shut). "If you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin', " is one thing my Dad always said. I think he must have driven my poor Mom nuts. I cheated once in the 5th grade, and I didn't get caught, but my cohorts did. I never ever cheated again, and if I had, I think my Dad would have been really disappointed in me. Dad's lesson wasn't so much that one should cheat to get through life, but that sometimes you have to do what you have to do regardless of the rules. And sometimes, it is better to not be overt about not following the rules. Those who publicly ranted about the Nazis found themselves in Dachau; those who were quietly opposed sheltered Jews and saved their lives.
My Dad also taught me everything I know about courage, loyalty, and standing by my convictions all the time. When my friends got caught cheating and I didn't, I stepped forward and confessed my role (Dad's probably cringing over that: I think men have a different code whereby the fewest number of guilty parties hang as possible and the others chastise them for getting caught and commend them for not ratting the others out). My teacher was so overwhelmed by my actions, she (female teacher of course, I doubt this would have worked with a male teacher) wagged her finger and told us to go and sin no more.
Perhaps Dad would have behaved differently in that situation, but it is his behavior in other smaller things that is reflected in my loyalty to my friends that day. I have never in thirty-five years heard my Dad issue an oath stronger than "Jiminy-Christmas!" or "Criminy!" Dad was in the Air Force, and he was a para-rescueman. He has stories about bar-fights. I can't imagine that he didn't curse when he was a younger man. But at some point, perhaps when he became a Dad, he must have decided that swearing was inappropriate, and he stopped. Forever. If it's wrong, it's wrong all the time.
Dad isn't Catholic, but he vowed to raise his children Catholic. By golly, he stuck to that vow. Never in my teen years could I get him to agree with me that the Church was wrong about some point. That would have been counter to his vow.
When I went off to college, Dad started going to Mass regularly. Years later, I observed him abstaining from meat on Fridays and giving up things for Lent. At some point, he told me he believed in the Real Presence. I just couldn't understand why he didn't convert, except that perhaps he felt that Catholic rituals were optional unless he converted, and then they would be mandatory. Dad is finally going through RCIA now, and will receive the sacraments in April. I fully expect to find my own observation of the Catholic faith challenged for the better as he strives to follow the faith he vows to follow, and I see my own shortcomings in the shadow of his commitment.
But the greatest thing my Dad ever taught me was about love and respect. The more dysfunctional people I meet, and the more functional people from dysfunctional families I know, the more I become aware how lucky I am to have had a mother and a father married and raising their family together. I'm not saying Dad is the perfect dad or the perfect husband, but he honors and respects my mother, and his behavior toward her and the tone he set in our house growing up has been the benchmark by which I have judged my own husband and home life. It's hard, sometimes, for my husband to compete against the man who stole fire from the sun, but he'll be judged by our daughters, not by me.
Happy birthday, Dad. I love you.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Time for prayer
A few days ago, I began mulling the need to pray extra hard for a particular prayer intention. This special intention would be a long-term prayer commitment, and I thought that a daily rosary would be the best way to do it. It's a serious matter, and really needs the weight of many many rosaries to be offered up.
I don't pray the rosary daily. I have tried many times to commit to this. I know that world peace (and the liberation of Russia!) hangs on my daily rosary, and I am ready to have the whole war in Afghanistan and Iraq blamed on my failure to do it. It's all my fault - and yours too, if you don't pray the rosary daily. If only we all prayed the rosary daily, there would be no war, right? As my husband once said when pondering all the many chaplets and prayers that one could say daily plus daily Mass and other sacrifices one could make for the salvation of one's own soul: if you spend that much time in prayer, you would most certainly go straight to Heaven, since you would have no time to commit any sin. But I digress. And my particular intention is not world peace, although that is certainly a lofty goal and does happen to be in my daily prayers as a matter of routine.
In the back of my head is this desire to pray the rosary daily and an internal argument with myself about the practicality of this commitment. And so I sat while I ate my lunch and happened across this discussion at Danielle Bean's website about making time for prayer. I'm not too happy with some attitudes in some of the comments: some people seem to condemn those of us who aren't spending hours a day in formal prayer, and some people seem very willing to forgo formal prayer as impossible. Neither attitude is particularly helpful to those of us struggling with this issue and seeking ideas on how to improve.
And then I read one comment: who doesn't have the time to offer up a 15 minute rosary? Holy cow, I thought, a 15 minute rosary? How do you say a rosary in 15 minutes? I try hard to be reverent, to really meditate on the mysteries and imagine the sights and sounds, to conjure the emotions I would have felt had I been there and the significance of the event. It takes me 20 to 25 minutes to say a rosary! I rarely have that much time to myself, except when the kids are sleeping. And if the kids are sleeping, and I sit quietly for a few minutes, I am at serious risk of falling asleep myself!
And then I realized my mistake: I'm trying to say the perfect rosary. Without practice. Even after 10 months of running, I can't run a mile in 9 minutes (or 2 miles in under 19 minutes), but I don't expect to do so. In running, I seek daily improvements, always challenging myself, but never setting unrealistic goals. Why would I expect my prayer life to be any different? How can I expect to achieve 30 minutes of serious meditation if I haven't tried to do 10?
And so, I finished my sandwich and went to my room. It was a good day to start a rosary for my special intention. Pete was napping, and Jenny had also fallen asleep on our way back from voting. The other kids were getting their daily dose of TV, and I had 15 minutes until the show was over and we'd be back to the school grindstone. I quickly lisped out a rosary in the quiet of my bedroom. I prayed fast and it only took me 11 minutes. No, it wasn't perfect. But I was able to focus better on the mysteries (since I only spent 90 seconds on each one), and I did complete the entire thing without dozing off - a miracle in and of itself.
Is perfectionism holding you back from a more fulfilled prayer life? Consider joining me in a daily rosary if you don't already. World peace (and the liberation of Russia!) depends on it.
I don't pray the rosary daily. I have tried many times to commit to this. I know that world peace (and the liberation of Russia!) hangs on my daily rosary, and I am ready to have the whole war in Afghanistan and Iraq blamed on my failure to do it. It's all my fault - and yours too, if you don't pray the rosary daily. If only we all prayed the rosary daily, there would be no war, right? As my husband once said when pondering all the many chaplets and prayers that one could say daily plus daily Mass and other sacrifices one could make for the salvation of one's own soul: if you spend that much time in prayer, you would most certainly go straight to Heaven, since you would have no time to commit any sin. But I digress. And my particular intention is not world peace, although that is certainly a lofty goal and does happen to be in my daily prayers as a matter of routine.
In the back of my head is this desire to pray the rosary daily and an internal argument with myself about the practicality of this commitment. And so I sat while I ate my lunch and happened across this discussion at Danielle Bean's website about making time for prayer. I'm not too happy with some attitudes in some of the comments: some people seem to condemn those of us who aren't spending hours a day in formal prayer, and some people seem very willing to forgo formal prayer as impossible. Neither attitude is particularly helpful to those of us struggling with this issue and seeking ideas on how to improve.
And then I read one comment: who doesn't have the time to offer up a 15 minute rosary? Holy cow, I thought, a 15 minute rosary? How do you say a rosary in 15 minutes? I try hard to be reverent, to really meditate on the mysteries and imagine the sights and sounds, to conjure the emotions I would have felt had I been there and the significance of the event. It takes me 20 to 25 minutes to say a rosary! I rarely have that much time to myself, except when the kids are sleeping. And if the kids are sleeping, and I sit quietly for a few minutes, I am at serious risk of falling asleep myself!
And then I realized my mistake: I'm trying to say the perfect rosary. Without practice. Even after 10 months of running, I can't run a mile in 9 minutes (or 2 miles in under 19 minutes), but I don't expect to do so. In running, I seek daily improvements, always challenging myself, but never setting unrealistic goals. Why would I expect my prayer life to be any different? How can I expect to achieve 30 minutes of serious meditation if I haven't tried to do 10?
And so, I finished my sandwich and went to my room. It was a good day to start a rosary for my special intention. Pete was napping, and Jenny had also fallen asleep on our way back from voting. The other kids were getting their daily dose of TV, and I had 15 minutes until the show was over and we'd be back to the school grindstone. I quickly lisped out a rosary in the quiet of my bedroom. I prayed fast and it only took me 11 minutes. No, it wasn't perfect. But I was able to focus better on the mysteries (since I only spent 90 seconds on each one), and I did complete the entire thing without dozing off - a miracle in and of itself.
Is perfectionism holding you back from a more fulfilled prayer life? Consider joining me in a daily rosary if you don't already. World peace (and the liberation of Russia!) depends on it.
Jesse Tree
Advent is coming faster than you can blink. I almost always scramble every first Sunday of Advent getting the Advent wreath out and trying to find candles. Today, I am going to make sure that I have everything I need to avoid the unholy scene that will unfold without proper planning.
Yesterday we received another Leaflet Missal catalog. I love this company, but don't know why they have to send us another catalog every 3 weeks, especially when I don't often have a chance to sit down and peruse it! I literally dropped my jaw when I saw this Jesse Tree project. YEARS ago I made my own very very similar Jesse Tree. So similar in fact that I am highly suspicious of which friend may have told which person about it and turned it into this project. My Jesse Tree is a banner with a green felt Christmas tree on a dark blue starry background. But my symbols were photocopied from a book, colored by my little kids, and mounted on felt. These symbols are beautiful! I really think I'm going to ditch my homemade one for this one, at least to replace the symbols (seriously, a few of the symbols were colored by the 3 and under crowd - you can hardly see the symbol under the scribble!).
If you've never done a Jesse Tree, I highly recommend it, and this kit is good for those who don't have the space for a three-dimensional tree (often a bare tree branch is used to hang ornaments). I truly believe that we each, every day, have chances to say "Yes!" to God, to offer Him our own Fiat. The Jesse Tree uses symbols to represent people who also offered their Fiat to God: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, Ruth, Daniel, and, of course, the perfect Fiat of Mary. I like to use the Jesse Tree as another countdown to Christmas, adding one more symbol every day. It gives us a chance to read some great stories from the Old Testament and to ponder anew the magnificent Divine plan for our salvation.
Yesterday we received another Leaflet Missal catalog. I love this company, but don't know why they have to send us another catalog every 3 weeks, especially when I don't often have a chance to sit down and peruse it! I literally dropped my jaw when I saw this Jesse Tree project. YEARS ago I made my own very very similar Jesse Tree. So similar in fact that I am highly suspicious of which friend may have told which person about it and turned it into this project. My Jesse Tree is a banner with a green felt Christmas tree on a dark blue starry background. But my symbols were photocopied from a book, colored by my little kids, and mounted on felt. These symbols are beautiful! I really think I'm going to ditch my homemade one for this one, at least to replace the symbols (seriously, a few of the symbols were colored by the 3 and under crowd - you can hardly see the symbol under the scribble!).
If you've never done a Jesse Tree, I highly recommend it, and this kit is good for those who don't have the space for a three-dimensional tree (often a bare tree branch is used to hang ornaments). I truly believe that we each, every day, have chances to say "Yes!" to God, to offer Him our own Fiat. The Jesse Tree uses symbols to represent people who also offered their Fiat to God: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, Ruth, Daniel, and, of course, the perfect Fiat of Mary. I like to use the Jesse Tree as another countdown to Christmas, adding one more symbol every day. It gives us a chance to read some great stories from the Old Testament and to ponder anew the magnificent Divine plan for our salvation.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Reunion
The kids couldn't stand the idea of a photo being taken without them in it. 
Even this head shot of us had Pete standing on a chair right next to me.Pat and Jenny.
Bob and Gina.
I realize that many women who read this blog are, like me, Catholic homeschool mothers of many. At the risk of offending you by stereotyping, conjure in your mind an image of what a Catholic homeschool mother of many looks like. The first adjective that springs to my mind is dowdy. I see glasses, long hair pulled back, long skirt or jumper (denim, of course), and sensible flats. And, except for the jumper (which Bill has strictly forbidden), I think I'm looking in a mirror! So I tried hard to not look that part. Check out that skirt: you can see my calves! Whoa! That's practically a mini! And those shoes? Can you tell? They're flimsy little strappy ones. A reflection of my inner wild child, I tell you!
I must have done a good job of projecting a more polished image than usual; most people were suitably shocked when we said we had 5 kids and homeschooled. Keep in mind that my husband attended a Catholic high school. I don't think anyone else there had more than three kids. Sad.
I think Bill had a good time. Too late, but in preparation for the 25th, Jenny and I plotted amusing scenarios such as pretending to be someone from the class (or better yet, maybe a younger classmate) or suggesting that we come to the reunion with each other's spouses and then leave with our own (in an attempt to create scandal). It sounds funny...but maybe next time, Jenny and I will stay home while the boys go. I don't mind that Bill wants to attend, but I have serious doubts about ever attending one of my own. I just don't know if I want to open up all those doors to safely locked memories...
Monday, November 06, 2006
In brief...
This morning I've got to get the dog from the vet who boarded her this weekend and shop for 3" wide white fluff and 1" wide gray velcro. And do school...
I'll post some photos later and recap the weekend and the reunion.
For now, if you've already been to Danielle Bean's website, you've seen these already. If not, here are two must-see links:
The Second Catholic Homeschool Carnival. This will be absorbing any free time I have today.
Children of God For Life's FDA Alert: The FDA wants the public's opinion about the use of aborted fetal cells being used in vaccines. Most states are mandating the chicken pox vaccine, but the only one available was made from aborted fetuses. Most doctors use the MMR vaccine, which also was made from aborted fetuses. Unless we speak up, there will continue to be no moral alternative to these vaccines. If you've ever resisted giving your child one of these vaccines, you know how much pressure and guilt is applied to parents to go against their conscience. I don't want my child to suffer these dreadful diseases either, but a moral stand is a moral stand, and sometimes the consequences of a moral stand are unpleasant in this world. Here's a chance to tell the government exactly what we think about corporations like Merck who have little to no regard for the moral sensibilities of those subjected to the laws their PACS successfully lobby to enact. Send the FDA a letter TODAY!!!!!
I'll post some photos later and recap the weekend and the reunion.
For now, if you've already been to Danielle Bean's website, you've seen these already. If not, here are two must-see links:
The Second Catholic Homeschool Carnival. This will be absorbing any free time I have today.
Children of God For Life's FDA Alert: The FDA wants the public's opinion about the use of aborted fetal cells being used in vaccines. Most states are mandating the chicken pox vaccine, but the only one available was made from aborted fetuses. Most doctors use the MMR vaccine, which also was made from aborted fetuses. Unless we speak up, there will continue to be no moral alternative to these vaccines. If you've ever resisted giving your child one of these vaccines, you know how much pressure and guilt is applied to parents to go against their conscience. I don't want my child to suffer these dreadful diseases either, but a moral stand is a moral stand, and sometimes the consequences of a moral stand are unpleasant in this world. Here's a chance to tell the government exactly what we think about corporations like Merck who have little to no regard for the moral sensibilities of those subjected to the laws their PACS successfully lobby to enact. Send the FDA a letter TODAY!!!!!
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Road Trips and Reunions
Tomorrow morning the kids and I are heading to Pennsylvania to visit with a good friend. I'm excited because the last dozen times I've seen her, it seemed I would have a hasty cup of coffee and then run out to take care of my rental property while she babysat my kids. Then I'd come back to her house, grab a quick meal, gather the kids and leave. Not much fun (for either of us!). Thank goodness, she is a real true good friend who doesn't mind too much being abused like that. And her kids are good friends with my kids, so they had fun.
This time, we're sleeping at her house, and there's no rushing around to other places. At some point, surely, the kids will all be sleeping, and we might enjoy an hour of uninterrupted conversation. Surely.
Saturday morning, we'll head out and pick Bill up at the train station. We do have to take care of some rental property business, but hopefully this won't take too long. We'll go over to Bill's parents' house and visit for a bit. Bill's parents will watch the kids while we get together with friends at a bar in New Jersey. Then we'll all head over to Bill's and his buddies' 20th high school reunion.
Bill and I went to his 10th reunion. We had been married just over a year and had no kids. It will be interesting to see if anyone has changed as much as we have! The reunion is just a buffet reception at a local hotel, but the best part will surely be the pre-reunion private party with old friends. I really like the one friend's wife, and I'll get to meet the other friend's girlfriend.
A few days ago, we also received information about Bill's 15th college reunion.
{I'll interrupt myself quickly to explain that Bill did not begin college immediately upon graduation from high school. Heprocrastinated drifted aimlessly took his time and made a deliberate and thoughtful college selection. It's a good thing too, because had he started college when he was 18, I'm certain some other intelligent, attractive young co-ed would have scooped him up before I found him.}
Our college hosts all the reunions at the same time. Each different class has their own private parties, but lots of activities are done all together. For example, there is a big reunion parade for all alumni and their families through the small town where the college is located. Afterward, there are various activities on the campus with each class doing their own thing. The reunion letter highlighted pong as one of the fun events for the Class of 1992. Just in case you didn't attend a big party school, pong is ping pong but with beer and the object being to get as drunk as possible.
I suggested to Bill that we wait until his 20th reunion to see if perhaps his classmates had grown up any by then. We laugh at our quarterly alumni newsletter where classmates announce the happy news of their engagement or marriage or perhaps the birth of their first child. We're so far removed from those "new beginnings" days. I seriously think it may be another decade before we and these peers can meet on similar ground.
It certainly will be interesting to find out.
This time, we're sleeping at her house, and there's no rushing around to other places. At some point, surely, the kids will all be sleeping, and we might enjoy an hour of uninterrupted conversation. Surely.
Saturday morning, we'll head out and pick Bill up at the train station. We do have to take care of some rental property business, but hopefully this won't take too long. We'll go over to Bill's parents' house and visit for a bit. Bill's parents will watch the kids while we get together with friends at a bar in New Jersey. Then we'll all head over to Bill's and his buddies' 20th high school reunion.
Bill and I went to his 10th reunion. We had been married just over a year and had no kids. It will be interesting to see if anyone has changed as much as we have! The reunion is just a buffet reception at a local hotel, but the best part will surely be the pre-reunion private party with old friends. I really like the one friend's wife, and I'll get to meet the other friend's girlfriend.
A few days ago, we also received information about Bill's 15th college reunion.
{I'll interrupt myself quickly to explain that Bill did not begin college immediately upon graduation from high school. He
Our college hosts all the reunions at the same time. Each different class has their own private parties, but lots of activities are done all together. For example, there is a big reunion parade for all alumni and their families through the small town where the college is located. Afterward, there are various activities on the campus with each class doing their own thing. The reunion letter highlighted pong as one of the fun events for the Class of 1992. Just in case you didn't attend a big party school, pong is ping pong but with beer and the object being to get as drunk as possible.
I suggested to Bill that we wait until his 20th reunion to see if perhaps his classmates had grown up any by then. We laugh at our quarterly alumni newsletter where classmates announce the happy news of their engagement or marriage or perhaps the birth of their first child. We're so far removed from those "new beginnings" days. I seriously think it may be another decade before we and these peers can meet on similar ground.
It certainly will be interesting to find out.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
(Un)Holy Day of Obligation
This morning I soooo wanted to start attending daily Mass daily just so when my kids complained that "We have to go to Mass every day," it would be true.
And then I went to Mass and remembered again exactly why I don't go to daily Mass daily. Yes, I suppose if I did it more often the kids would be better behaved. That's a theory that I fear would require much accumulated time in Purgatory to prove or disprove. You see, for every grace obtained by attending Mass and receiving Communion, I blow it by spending the entire time committing venial sins. Can one truly find God while plotting to murder one's progeny? When life imprisonment begins to sound appealing (benefit #1: no kids, benefit #2: I'm willing to bet that many prisons have daily Mass), you have to seriously consider the cost/benefit of going to Mass with kids.
Since today was a Holy Day of Obligation, I have no problem with obeying that directive. I feel that my act of compliance out of love of God and Church outweighs any discomfort, embarrassment or distractions I suffered for the 45 minutes. But most days are not days of obligation, and to attend Mass tomorrow, for example, would be an act of insanity, I believe. Perhaps in a few years I'll be able and willing to torment my children, as they now torment me, by truly going to Mass every day. Paybacks are unpleasant. But, for now, I'll tough it out on Sundays and leave the rest of the days to obtain God's graces in some other way.
And then I went to Mass and remembered again exactly why I don't go to daily Mass daily. Yes, I suppose if I did it more often the kids would be better behaved. That's a theory that I fear would require much accumulated time in Purgatory to prove or disprove. You see, for every grace obtained by attending Mass and receiving Communion, I blow it by spending the entire time committing venial sins. Can one truly find God while plotting to murder one's progeny? When life imprisonment begins to sound appealing (benefit #1: no kids, benefit #2: I'm willing to bet that many prisons have daily Mass), you have to seriously consider the cost/benefit of going to Mass with kids.
Since today was a Holy Day of Obligation, I have no problem with obeying that directive. I feel that my act of compliance out of love of God and Church outweighs any discomfort, embarrassment or distractions I suffered for the 45 minutes. But most days are not days of obligation, and to attend Mass tomorrow, for example, would be an act of insanity, I believe. Perhaps in a few years I'll be able and willing to torment my children, as they now torment me, by truly going to Mass every day. Paybacks are unpleasant. But, for now, I'll tough it out on Sundays and leave the rest of the days to obtain God's graces in some other way.
New Month's Resolution for November
Ah, a new month. A fresh start in some small aspect of my life.
A few weeks ago, my sister proposed a novel writing challenge as my November resolution. I guess it's a big thing. The objective: to write a 50,000 word novel by the end of November. Here are some FAQs, if you seem inclined (you can sign up to participate through the end of November). Some of my favorite quotes off their website:
Can anyone participate in NaNoWriMo? No. People who take their writing (and themselves) very seriously should probably go elsewhere. Everyone else, though, is warmly welcomed.
If I'm just writing 50,000 words of crap, why bother? Why not just write a real novel later, when I have more time?
There are three reasons.
1) If you don't do it now, you probably never will. Novel writing is mostly a "one day" event. As in "One day, I'd like to write a novel." {snip}
2) Aiming low is the best way to succeed. With entry-level novel writing, shooting for the moon is the surest way to get nowhere. With high expectations, everything you write will sound cheesy and awkward. {snip}
3) Art for art's sake does wonderful things to you. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. It makes you want to take naps and go places wearing funny pants. Doing something just for the hell of it is a wonderful antidote to all the chores and "must-dos" of daily life. Writing a novel in a month is both exhilarating and stupid, and we would all do well to invite a little more spontaneous stupidity into our lives.
And I can no longer find it, but there was something earlier on their website about doing it because randomly quoting your own novel at parties is so much fun.
Well, I was all ready to jump on the NaNoWriMo bandwagon, but Barb, the big mistake you made was giving me too much time to think about it! I started thinking about all the other things I planned to do this month, and quickly decided that this November was not a good month to try to carve out free time. First off, I need to get production going on camouflage Christmas stockings. And secondly, I had set aside the week before Thanksgiving to try to figure out how I was going to make this dress for my niece's First Holy Communion using my sister's wedding dress.
So this month's resolution is to get all my sewing projects completed! That's a challenge enough. I am flattered, though, that I have inspired others to think about new month's resolutions (even to the point of them recommending one to me!). I see that Jennie has already listed her new month's resolutions (see her sidebar), and did get all of her October resolutions done! If you want to know what the new months' resolutions are all about, check out my July post. And if you want to see what other things I've done, well, there's this handy dandy "post label" thing now and all you have to do is click on "New Month's Resolutions" at the bottom of this post, and all related posts will come up! Cool!
Let me know if you decide to do a new month's resolution. And if you take on the NaNoWriMo challenge, please let me know that too!
A few weeks ago, my sister proposed a novel writing challenge as my November resolution. I guess it's a big thing. The objective: to write a 50,000 word novel by the end of November. Here are some FAQs, if you seem inclined (you can sign up to participate through the end of November). Some of my favorite quotes off their website:
Can anyone participate in NaNoWriMo? No. People who take their writing (and themselves) very seriously should probably go elsewhere. Everyone else, though, is warmly welcomed.
If I'm just writing 50,000 words of crap, why bother? Why not just write a real novel later, when I have more time?
There are three reasons.
1) If you don't do it now, you probably never will. Novel writing is mostly a "one day" event. As in "One day, I'd like to write a novel." {snip}
2) Aiming low is the best way to succeed. With entry-level novel writing, shooting for the moon is the surest way to get nowhere. With high expectations, everything you write will sound cheesy and awkward. {snip}
3) Art for art's sake does wonderful things to you. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. It makes you want to take naps and go places wearing funny pants. Doing something just for the hell of it is a wonderful antidote to all the chores and "must-dos" of daily life. Writing a novel in a month is both exhilarating and stupid, and we would all do well to invite a little more spontaneous stupidity into our lives.
And I can no longer find it, but there was something earlier on their website about doing it because randomly quoting your own novel at parties is so much fun.
Well, I was all ready to jump on the NaNoWriMo bandwagon, but Barb, the big mistake you made was giving me too much time to think about it! I started thinking about all the other things I planned to do this month, and quickly decided that this November was not a good month to try to carve out free time. First off, I need to get production going on camouflage Christmas stockings. And secondly, I had set aside the week before Thanksgiving to try to figure out how I was going to make this dress for my niece's First Holy Communion using my sister's wedding dress.
So this month's resolution is to get all my sewing projects completed! That's a challenge enough. I am flattered, though, that I have inspired others to think about new month's resolutions (even to the point of them recommending one to me!). I see that Jennie has already listed her new month's resolutions (see her sidebar), and did get all of her October resolutions done! If you want to know what the new months' resolutions are all about, check out my July post. And if you want to see what other things I've done, well, there's this handy dandy "post label" thing now and all you have to do is click on "New Month's Resolutions" at the bottom of this post, and all related posts will come up! Cool!
Let me know if you decide to do a new month's resolution. And if you take on the NaNoWriMo challenge, please let me know that too!
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