Something for everyone

After my last post, my sister sent me a link to CafePress.com where you can search "pregnant" and have over 16 thousand different designs on 284,000 products displayed. If you like shirts with things written on them, this is the place to shop. I don't agree with every sentiment, but the humor here was much better than the shirts found at Amazon.

There are shirts for expectant dads, expectant grandparents, expectant aunts and uncles, and expectant older siblings. There are shirts for "paper pregnancies" - those awaiting adoption (even expectant paper pregnancy grandparent shirts). There are pro-breastfeeding shirts, pro-homebirth shirts, pro-vegetarian shirts and other pro-whatever lifestyle shirts.

Some of my favorites (not necessarily that I would wear, but that I find amusing):

This Is What Happens When You Party Naked

Do Not Taunt the Cranky Pregnant Woman

Does This Baby Make Me Look Fat?

Yes, Actually, I Did Swallow a Watermelon
Watermelon Smuggler
No words on this one, just a funny graphic

It's Not Over Until the Fat Lady Screams (for dads)

My Husband Came Home From Afghanistan, and All I Got Was Pregnant
See What Deployment Does

I Am Not a Budda, Do Not Rub My Belly
Back Away From the Bump
Hands Off the Belly

Yes, I'm Pregnant. It's a Boy/Girl. I'm Due in May/June/July.

Yes, I'm Pregnant Again. Yes, I Know What Causes It. No, I Don't Have Too Many.

What Happens in Las Vegas Doesn't Always Stay in Las Vegas

I'm Pregnant...What's Your Excuse?

Designated Driver (aka Knocked Up)

Maternity T-Shirts I Won't be Wearing

Cris kindly recommended the Bella Band, an item I think I'm going to have to get for now and for later. It would be nice to have more than, say, two pairs of pants that fit me at any given moment.

While browsing Amazon, they had all sorts of links to maternity t-shirts that just may interest someone who would be buying a Bella Band. Somebody...but not me. Let's see...

Knocked Up (and the model looks really happy about it too)

Contraception Malfunction (I guess because there's no way she'd ruin that hot bod willingly)

Oops! I Did It Again (So sorry, world, I didn't mean to have another baby)

Pregnant (Not Fat) (I do sympathize, but it just seems so vain to have to announce it like that. I prefer having my kids say it - and they do.)

Morning Sickness: Making Hangovers Seem Pleasant (In other words: I'm not fat, I'm pregnant)

Not Pregnant: Just Had a Baby (In other words: I'm not pregnant, I'm fat - I don't need this one because I think the newborn glued to snuggled at my breast 24/7 says it for me)

Budda Belly: Rub My Belly For Good Luck (But I would like one that says: Warning: Raging hormones may make this pregnant woman slug you in the face if you dare touch any part of her overly sensitive body even if you happen to be 6 years old and flesh of her flesh)

Coming This Fall (This is actually kind of cute, but what if the next baby is due in the spring? Just not very practical.)

Future MILF (I had to look this term up - I'm so behind the times. And I'm really not, uh, crass (?) enough to wear that.)

Sex Ed Dropout (Ooo, and proud of it!)

And my favorite: the mudflap girl (you know, the one you see on tractor-trailers) with a big belly (ye-haw)


Here are a few that I might consider:

Highly Emotional (a nice reminder to that husband is who is so used to your big belly he forgets about those dangerous hormones that threaten your sanity)

Fertile Goddess (but the woman in the photo doesn't look pregnant, just well endowed)

Made Love Not War (Yes! Need this for my next sit-in!)


And these are too political for me, but I admire the strong women who would dare admit that it takes a man and a woman to have a baby, or that the blob of tissue growing inside is really a boy or a girl.

Today's agenda

More vomiting, so more laundry and hair holding and the spraying of Lysol. I feel like I'm blogging about vomiting a lot. (I'd link, but that's too much work.) I feel like everybody else is blogging about vomiting too. (Again, I'd link, but that's work, and you know who you are anyway.)

It's Katie this time. In her bed. I pulled everything out and half of it is in the washing machine right now. Her room still stinks, and I want to faint when I walk by it. I don't know what I missed, but it will have to wait until Jenny wakes up.

I don't know why, but my kids seems compelled to wake me up between the hours of 3 and 4 am recently. I can't get back to sleep after that. Today, unlike yesterday, my afternoon is clear, so my top priority for later just may be taking a nap. No, I mean my top priority definitely is taking a nap.

I'd rather shop for a bathing suit...

...than shop for maternity clothes.

I do have some maternity clothes, but they all look so BIG. I've been avoiding them. One by one, my regular clothes had either become too small or just looked plain ridiculous on me. So, I would dig into my big purple bin where I store a variety of clothes for every season in sizes ranging from 6 to 16 (because after gaining 45 pounds with every pregnancy, I do wear a size 16, even if it's only for a month or so) and would pull out another, bigger size (but still not maternity), and would manage for a little bit longer.

But last week, my choices were diminishing in the summer fashions. Even Bill's clothes were too tight in the waist (why did I fall in love with a skinny man?) or too big in the shoulder making me look like...I was wearing my husband's clothes. If it were fall, I think I could go another month or so, but with lightweight clothing, I was left with a stack of maternity clothes that I just couldn't bear to wear yet.

Besides being too big, they are old, too. I don't think any of them were bought new by me. And I've had most of them with every pregnancy, so I estimated that they are mostly at least ten years old. I'm not big into following the latest fashions and hottest trends, but...I do like to look decent. I really do want to avoid looking dowdy.

Bill came home at a reasonable hour on Friday, and I took advantage of this to head to the mall alone. I think I tried on every outfit in the store. First, I put on a pair of khaki capri pants and a maroon, empire waist knit top (the kind even non-pregnant women seem to be wearing nowadays). I looked in the mirror and with a depressed and exasperated internal voice remarked that I just.looked.so.pregnant.

To which the intelligent, practical, common-sense woman buried deep within that prideful, vain, emotional basket case staring at the mirror responded, "Duh! You are pregnant!"

And then I laughed at myself and stopped focusing on not looking pregnant and instead on looking attractive.

You know, like a well-dressed hippo.

Most ludicrous is the bald-faced lie these stores tell pregnant women: buy your pre-pregnancy size. Yeah, right. Most first-time moms probably go shopping when they are barely showing. They put that tiny pillow under the clothes and think they look so cute. They go home with a nice collection of things that will work for that season. By the time the weather changes, those clothes are getting really tight and uncomfortable, but it doesn't matter because they need new things for the new season anyway.

I bought size mediums, which is basically what I would be wearing if I weren't pregnant. But I know that by August, they will be stretched to the max. That's OK. I've got those BIG clothes just waiting for me. I'm set.

And as if to prove that new clothing "makes" a woman, an old friend drove down on Saturday morning from Pennsylvania to spend the weekend. Her kids came into the house, but she was loitering at the car collecting a few necessities. I walked out to greet her, and when she turned around, she looked surprised. "Oh, you look so skinny! I thought you'd be bigger by now!"

Dear, dear friend, I can't wait to see you again next month!

Tasty Tuesday

Since I'm moving halfway across the country in one month, I'm trying to use up things lingering in my freezer, refrigerator and pantry. Recently I'd been eyeing a second bag of frozen cranberries that I had gotten "just in case" for Thanksgiving dinner and never used. I found a recipe online, altered it a bit to avoid another trip to the grocery store, and made this yummy Cranberry Almond Bread. I'm eating the last of the first loaf right now for breakfast. The other loaf is in the freezer, and I'm debating whether to eat it all myself or share the love.

Angie is hosting the Tasty Tuesday recipe exchange blog party. She's even offering a prize to a random winner if you participate! Stop on over and check out the other recipes.

Memorial Day Weekend

Going to a parade this weekend?

There are no more fitting words than those of Abraham Lincoln:

"-- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- "

And as you put a lime in that Corona and wait for your burger to grill up, consider Jennie's words, and perhaps offer up a prayer.

Justice and forgiveness

I wholly applaud this man's forgiveness of the drunken driver who killed half his family.

I also wholly applaud the humble and contrite way in which the driver seems to be dealing with the mess he made: pleading guilty, apologizing, recognizing that his words are hollow, expressing gratitude to the man who forgives him.

And I wholly applaud the judge who sentenced the man to 10 years despite the victim's apparent belief that the man should go free.

The prosecutor's argument for sentencing:

"In this situation the state must look beyond the feelings only of the individuals who are most directly impacted by this event," Fisher told the judge. "Society has an interest in what is done beyond the feelings of the victims."

Forgiveness should not mean walking away from justice. This is not one man's crime against another man. This is one man's crime against society by breaking its laws. He owes society a debt that must be repaid, and we have chosen prison time as an acceptable punishment (which I prefer to hanging, or flogging). I would hope that I could be as forgiving as the victim in this case. But I would also expect and desire justice, which is a concept greater than one individual is capable of meting in this situation.

8 Things About Me Meme

I was tagged by Rosemary to list 8 things about me. I suppose I ought to avoid the obvious ones (I'm Catholic, I homeschool, I'm a military dependant)?


1. I have a difficult time answering the question, "Where are you from originally?" I was born in Cleveland, but didn't stay there long. I attended four different elementary schools in two different states, but I wasn't a military brat or the child of a corporate jet-setter. We just moved.

2. I suppress, sometimes not very well, an aggressive, argumentative, sarcastic, cynical, my-way-or-the-highway, stubborn, and highly-opinionated personality.

3. Although the color red complements my complexion, it does not complement my personality. It accents all the personality traits listed in #2, so I avoid it. I'm sure pink would look nice on me, but I just can't bring myself to wear that color either. I will wear lavender or sage, but I mainly prefer navy and tan and various shades of blue.

4. In an effort to combat those personality traits listed in #2, I have developed a neutral facial expression and tone of voice and have programmed non-committal "mmmm"s and "uh-huh"s and nods of the head into my automated response system. Likely, this has kept me out of prison for assault and battery against a myriad of obnoxious people who hold ridiculous, small-minded, ignorant or offensive opinions. Unfortunately, many people confuse this neutrality with tolerance of their ideas, and I just seem to get more of it.

5. I don't work as hard as I ought to on #2 or #4 with regard to my husband. He bears the brunt of my aggressive, obnoxious, and argumentative personality. Fortunately, he's a real man, and he can handle me.

6. I look forward to a day when Bill and I (and no children under the age of burdensome) can travel spontaneously and for extended periods of time throughout this country and others to really get a feel for an area.

7. I have no desire to ever work for pay again. I have even less of a desire to get sucked up into a mammoth charitable organization with the same headaches of a real job (bosses, deadlines, meetings, office politics), but no benefit of a cushy paycheck to make it all worthwhile.

8. If I ever use my engineering degree again, I hope it will be for a worthy cause, like building the infrastructure in a Third World country. I can definitely see myself living in South America designing water treatment facilities. Except for the bugs and other creepy-crawlies...I have a serious stumbling block with that part of the plan.


I know lots of people have already done this one, so I tag anybody who feels left out. Leave a note in the comment box if you want to play.

Army Wives - Army Strong

My latest post at G.I. June (Cleaver).

Reason #1 That I Won't Miss Washington

Bill (sighing): The problem with leaving this late is the traffic.

Time: 5:44 am.

Headcoverings

Interesting. I've been following threads of information about the wearing of headcoverings (or not) for women in church for some time now. For my generation, headcoverings were never the norm, except possibly for old women who dressed oddly (to a young person's eyes) anyway. But more and more I'm seeing literature that basically says it is immoral for women to go uncovered in church. I'm not one to appreciate being accused of immoral behavior, and I feel compelled to investigate further. That article does nothing to clear the waters. Are headcoverings simply a matter of fashion/custom? Or was this "change" just another bad reform of the 60s?

Personally, I'm wondering how old I have to be before I can wear a babushka. Bill seems to think I have to wait until he's dead.



Updated to add this photo of a babushka. That's the look I'm going for when I'm older. Classic style is never out of fashion.





Updated again to explain where I'm going with this. There was a time when Catholics, generally, would never use birth control. Although Church teaching has never wavered regarding its immorality, many Catholics today don't think twice about using it.

If I were to attend a church where the custom was to wear a headcovering, I would have no problem wearing one. I'm just having difficulty figuring out if this is truly a local custom (when in Rome) thing, or if, like birth control, its use (or not) has been dictated by secular forces rather than theological ones.

Updated, once again to include the link to canon lawyer Edward J. Peters' posting about this issue. Thank you, Denise, for bringing that to my attention.

I think I've come full circle on this. When attending certain churches, particularly outdoor Masses in vacation areas, the clothing is often very casual, even khaki shorts are "dressy," and I tend to dress similarly. When attending other churches and most people wear their Sunday best every Sunday, I make an attempt to follow suit. In other words, I don't have certain clothes that I wear on Sunday no matter what anyone else is doing, although I really would have difficulty wearing shorts to church unless it were a Mass at a camp or other truly rustic locale.

My current parish has very few women wearing headcoverings of any kind. Those who do are generally wearing flamboyant red hats. If every woman in the church wore a flamboyant red hat, I might be persuaded to wear a hat. But it wouldn't be red. And it wouldn't be flamboyant. If every woman in the church were wearing a black mantilla, I might wear a black mantilla. Or I might wear the very pretty blue Afghani headscarf Bill bought me instead. But I would cover my head.

I wholeheartedly agree with the premise of modesty and submission which seems to be tied to the custom. But if it is not an obligation to wear one, then I don't feel the need to stand apart from other women in a church and make that public statement.

ER visit - what better way to spend the evening?

I'm not sure what part of "straighten up your room before we leave for Scouts" included grabbing his brother by the arm and swinging him into the mini-Green Bay Packer's helmet clamped on his bed's foot board, but that's what Fritz did.

I heard the howling, and knew it wasn't good, but I waited. Even as I spied out of the corner of my little eye the two boys approaching me, I just didn't want to turn around. And then they stood next to me, and I looked and saw what appeared to be a victim from some slasher film standing there, but, no, that was my seven year old.

Calmly I had him sit, and turn his head so that the blood wouldn't get on the carpeting, even though I saw it pooling in his ear. Calmly I got a towel and had him hold it to the wound while I retrieved wet paper towels to try to clean up some of his ear...and neck...and hands. Calmly I thought how good it was that Bill wasn't here, since he really doesn't handle the sight of our injured children screaming in pain and bleeding profusely with as much detachment as I feel is necessary to be effective. Billy calmed down pretty quickly himself. If Mom's not too upset, it must not be that bad, right?

Finally, I took a gander at the injury, and for the first time ever, decided that a trip to the ER was really warranted. Normally, I prefer a wait and see attitude on most illnesses and injuries. Let's just take a few minutes to see if the bleeding stops or the leg still hurts or the arm is still dangling at that awkward right angle. But this one, no, I knew right away it needed something.

I tried to call Bill at his office, but he was off doing important things and out of cell phone coverage. I left a message on his cell phone voice mail anyway. I found a neighbor to watch the other kids, and headed for the hospital.

Bill showed up just before the doctor's diagnosis. I was thankful to be able to leave to pickup the other kids and get them off to bed. Bill got to hang around for the ugly part - the treatment: five shots of Novocaine, and 5 STAPLES.

This excitement is killing me.

Week 31 - Remain Calm

I have spent the last 72 hours staring at my computer, and I'm kinda sick of it. Between hotel websites, camping websites, tourism websites, Kansas law websites, DMV websites, Army regulation websites, websites with forms, websites with telephone numbers, unsecure websites, and highly secure websites that require passwords with at least 2 capital letters, 2 small letters, 2 numbers, and 2 punctuation marks, I think I'm going cross-eyed.

I have hotel reservations in two cities, but I'm not 100% sure that those dates are accurate. I have camping reservations for a state park in Missouri for mid-July, because after all this moving, we'll need to unwind by exhausting our muscles going on long hikes, stumbling around in the dark with petrified children exploring caves, counting 1-2-3-4-5 children every 90 seconds swimming at a lake, slaving for every meal sitting around a cheery campfire, and getting a backache from sleeping on the ground enjoying the fresh air and the sounds of nature and the great outdoors.

I also have a very looooong to-do list with headings like "8 Weeks Before Moving" and "6 Weeks Before Moving" and "4 Weeks Before Moving" and since the movers likely come in approximately FIVE weeks, I'm trying hard not to look at those things not crossed off yet and panic.

Today we more or less begin Week 31 of a 32 week program. I should be elated to be finishing this early, especially since many subjects are done and some subjects, like history, are only fun stuff like reading books about Clara Barton and Robert E. Lee. But I'm looking at that to-do list, and I'm seriously considering eliminating things like the states and capitols flashcards because it's only review now and two more weeks of that won't really make a difference in long-term memory storage, right?

Actually, the next three days are so jam-packed with a combination of social activities and medical appointments, that I'm just not thinking straight. Perhaps by Thursday, I'll be back to my usual hard-line about doing every single thing on the syllabus by golly.

Now off to plan my morning and see what I might accomplish before this afternoon's running around.

Nothing New Under the Sun (except for giant monsters that attack Japanese cities)

Bill and I were discussing music and how Song X is the exact same song as Song Y, just change the names.

For example, Faith Hill's Mississippi Girl is basically Jenny From the Block.

I said it was like movies, and you could pretty much trace all plots back to Shakespeare. He covered everything.

Fritz wanted to know who Shakespeare was, and I said he was a poet and playwright from a long time ago ("The 1600's", interjected Bill - he lived from 1564 to 1616, good job, hubby). I said that he wrote a lot of plays and that many movies today had stories that were like the stories he wrote.

"Oh, so he wrote, like, Godzilla?"

No. You got me there, kiddo.

Why Toddlers Don't Write Fairy Tales

The Wolf and the Three Little Pigs

by Jenny

Once upon a time there was a wolf and three little piggies and the wolf ate the three little piggies.

The End.

A word to the wise

If you plan to wear a wrap dress to church, and it is likely that you will be juggling a small child on your hip throughout most of your time there, then I highly recommend you double knot the ties. Perhaps you might consider safety pins as well.

If the ties should happen to come undone (failure to heed my advice or simply an extremely active child), I highly recommend that you put the small child down before attempting to re-fasten the ties. If you don't, you will very nearly drop the child and this, although thrilling to many small children, will cause the woman sitting behind you to audibly gasp. And you will be embarrassed, not just because your dress is coming undone, but because there was an obvious witness to the whole comedy.

Trust me.

Travel info bleg

I'm trying to plan our journey westward in the first week of July. We'll need to spend a few nights somewhere between here and Kansas. It looks like St. Louis would be a good place to hole up for a few days. Anybody ever done anything there besides see The Arch? I'm looking for a hotel that has suites, too - most places don't like it when you sleep 7 people in a room, and I can't put the kids in a separate room yet.

Suggestions? Ideas?

Cry me a river

I just don't get it. All those suicide bombers in Israel? Muslim. Terrorist attacks in Spain, London? Done by Muslims. Terrorists attacks on U.S. property abroad and at home over the last 20 - 30 years? Generally done by Muslims (notable exceptions to include Eric Rudolph, Ted Kaczynski, Tim McVeigh and others). The recently foiled plan to infiltrate Fort Dix, New Jersey and cause death and destruction? Muslims.

But so what? Why on earth would intelligent, rational human beings throughout the world feel that followers of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) needed to be watched a bit more closely than, say, the Amish? Islamophobia - it's kind of like fearing rat poison. It's pretty harmless in a sealed container on a high shelf behind a locked door. But it's not something you keep lying around on kitchen countertops.

I'll start fearing Catholics when they start promising eternal rewards to those who kill innocent civilians. I'll fear the Jews when synagogues start preaching hate. And I'll start fearing evangelicals, JWs and Mormons when they stop trying to convert me and instead try to annihilate me.

OK, I can squeeze that party in after dinner - is 15 minutes good enough?

For birthdays, the kids get to pick dinner and dessert. As long as the request is reasonable, I will accommodate it. Billy asked for, and got, pancakes for his birthday dinner. Cake seems to be the traditional choice, but perhaps as they get older they might consider pie or cobbler or hot fudge sundaes.

Fritz asked for Church's chicken. I suppose I could be offended that he wants fast food fried chicken instead of my own homemade version. But I don't actually fry my chicken - I bake it in the oven. And I'll be the first to admit that deep fried chicken is really really yummy. Childhood obesity does not generally occur in children who visit fast food joints an average of once a month, even if those 12 annual visits tend to be concentrated around family vacations, cross-country moves and birthdays.

And since it's not only a ball game night, but also a Scout Pack Meeting night, I've got to squeeze dinner and birthday cake and presents all in by 530 pm. To have no dinner clean up to worry about saves me one more headache on a busy night.

And this is why I felt okay about cutting Fritz's Dairy Queen ice cream cake a night early. We'll sing again, and even light candles on the leftovers if he wants, but I won't feel badly about following up the serving of the cake with an urging to hurry up!

I do feel badly that my husband wasn't around when we cut the cake. He's rarely home before 7 pm and didn't expect tonight to be any different. But when I told him we cut the cake, he told me he would be able to come home early tonight and was disappointed we had already done that. Have you given him his presents yet? he asked. No, I said. But I was planning to, I thought. I think it's a bit cruel to give a kid a gift right before bedtime or right before he has to walk out the door for a game. Fortunately, Nana and Grandpa's gift arrived via FedEx earlier, and he had plenty of Legos to assemble today. I don't think he'll mind too much about having to wait until tomorrow to dig into the set we got him.

And now, it's time for me to wipe down kitchen counters and crack the whip on house-straightening. Hurry up! We've got to go go go!

Happy Birthday, Frederick Joseph!

Today, you are 9. Sometimes I think it is amazing that you have been a part of my life for so long. But other times, I feel as though I've known you forever. As my first-born, you have changed me the most, first, by making me a mother, secondly, by forcing me to always think of someone else's needs before considering my own, and continually, by growing and changing: just as I think I have finally gotten a handle on raising an eight-year-old, you go and turn nine!

You are old enough to light the candles on your birthday cake all by yourself, and you have no idea how terrifying this is to me.

Happy birthday, big guy. May the next nine years be as wonderful as these first nine years.

Sometimes a rain-out is a good thing

Evidently, ours was not the only game called on account of rain tonight. Like Danielle and many of the moms who commented on Margaret's post, I, too, love baseball season. I loved going to the games when my dad and my "uncle" (close family friend) coached my "cousin." I loved going to see the (always losing) Cleveland Indians play at home, the dozen or so times I was able to go growing up. I loved going to see the minor league team, the Richmond Braves, play when we lived there. I love having a game on during the weekends and watching a few innings of whoever play whomever.

And if I didn't have laundry to fold, dinner to stir up, diapers to change, and a myriad of other tasks that seem so important, I would love to spend an hour playing catch or a family pick-up game. It was I, after all, who spent an afternoon with Fritz when he was only about 3 and had him throw the ball left-handed, then throw the ball right-handed, then bat left-handed, then bat right-handed, over and over again, until I rightfully concluded that he did indeed favor a righty throw and a lefty bat-stance. And what's really odd about that is that there is another kid on his team this year who is the same way.

I am very thankful that this year the boys can be on the same team. Two games and one practice a week times one team is quite enough. Last year I ran the boys to separate games and practices (although Billy did soccer instead). Next year, Billy will probably stick with baseball (he can play soccer in the fall), and we'll be back to running to two different games and practices. Katie has mentioned T-ball...if I can just hold her off one more season, then Billy will go back and forth between Fritz's and Katie's teams and I'll only have to juggle two teams, not three.

Despite how much I love baseball, the 6 to 8 weeks of the season are pretty hectic. I plan simple dinners on game nights: pizza, tacos, pasta. I do as much prep and cleaning in the afternoon as possible. I serve out of Tupperware containers to make clean up easier. I try to assemble shoes and water bottles and snacks well in advance of departure time. I try to keep the baseball gear and the diaper bag in the car at all times. And frequently, when the day is over, my children go to bed a bit dirty.

When today's forecast called for thunderstorms, I skeptically looked at the sunny sky and put the ingredients for pizza dough in the bread machine. But by the time I was confirming who wanted what toppings, I wondered if putting the pies in the oven this early was necessary. And by the time we sat down to eat, I was certain we would be losing our power due to the wind and rain (we didn't).

With dinner eaten by 530 and nowhere to go and nothing to do, I seized the opportunity for everyone to have a proper scrub down including hair washings. I realize that that statement sounds absurd to anyone who has only one or two children, but I'm certain there are more than a few baseball moms who have placed their half-naked toddlers on the sink counter and washed them up "good enough." I hear my own mother's words coming from my mouth as I call "Feet, face, and hands!" to those old enough to wash themselves up. There are weeks I feel I'm Aunt Polly, and I'm herding a bunch of Tom Sawyers into the washroom on Saturday nights to make 'em decent before church the following morning.

As an incentive for a quick house-tidy, I promised everyone we could cut into Fritz's ice-cream birthday cake a day early (more on that tomorrow). And with everyone clean, in their pajamas, and satiated with ice cream, we dove into a competitive game of Blokus (a game I highly recommend for whole families to enjoy together from ages 5 and up). Then the kids played Sorry! while I brushed and braided the girls' clean hair.

It was a peaceful, relaxing and unexpected end to what would normally have been just another crazy day. And even though at least two of them are still awake an hour after goodnight kisses, I've been able to type up this post undisturbed and will myself now go up to rest my weary head.

Comedy hour

Toddlers seem to be naturals at slap-stick comedy. Something that I don't find remotely amusing in grown men (Larry, Curly or Moe), and something that is silly and worth a smile in elementary-aged children, is downright hilarious when the entertainer is 2 years old. We've got one of those.

Little Pete also knows when he has captured his audience. He knows those laughs are for his antics, and he hams it up even more. His face contorts into his funniest expressions, his movements get wilder, and his energy-level seems infinite. And his absolute favorite time to perform is when his entire family is gathered and seated quietly: when it's time for bedtime prayers. Instead of reverent children turning their innocent minds to offer pure prayers to the Creator, our family's prayers are frequently choked out between guffaws and snickers.

The other night, Pete was using a miniature rugby ball as a prop. He would throw the ball, watch it careen off whatever surface it randomly hit (crib, dresser, his brother's head), then stagger/waddle/run over to wherever it landed, and then repeat. When I said, "Pete, it's time for prayers," he stopped dead in his tracks for a second, threw the ball at his own head, and then took a huge prat-fall to the ground, making funny faces the whole time. Everybody laughed.

I sighed and made the following speech:

"There is a temptation to laugh. Petey is funny, but we are supposed to be praying. Have you noticed how I pray? I squeeze my eyes tightly shut so I can't see the silly baby. Try to focus on the prayers and not look at Pete. If you have trouble, close your eyes, tightly! Try to resist the temptation to laugh. Don't look at the baby! Now, let's have a contest (my kids love contests). Let's see who can go the longest without laughing. Okay? In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. Our Father, who art...."

And then, already, laughing. I opened my tightly squeezed eyes to see MY HUSBAND as the culprit. I shot him a look of death - the kind that demands to know what kind of a role-model he is and offers the answer of not-very-good - and returned to praying with closed eyes. Except for him, who thought even my chiding was funny and unashamedly continued to barely suppress his chuckling, the laughter was minimized and my two girls insisted that they had won the contest because they had managed to control themselves (that contest thing - gets them every time). I admit that at one point, sensing a pause in the action, I peeked to see what Mr. Stand-Up was doing and had to swallow a laugh myself.

Eventually, 2 year olds turn into 3 year olds and the same actions just aren't quite as funny. Eventually, his occasional moments of imitated piety with perfectly folded fat fingers and serious expression will be routine.

Eventually, though, there will be another toddler to take his place, and I'll be giving the same speech all over again.

The Truman Primary

In the check out line this weekend, I happened to see the cover of Newsweek: Wanted: A New Truman. Pictured along the top were the current contenders for the Presidency. Which one of them has what it takes to be another Truman?


What?!? I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were looking for one of those. I asked my husband what he thought they might mean by this. Maybe because Truman ended a war? he guessed. Yeah, by dropping atomic bombs and completely obliterating two cities (which also happened to have the highest percentage of Catholics residing there, but what's my point with that anyway?). Is this what they want to do? Should we withdraw all the troops from Iraq and then just wipe it off the face of the earth? It's a technique...


I didn't buy the magazine, but the article is now online.

Rudy Giuliani notes that Truman was unpopular in his day, but if he hadn't stood up to the Soviets in the late 1940s, asks Giuliani, "Who knows how much longer the cold war would have gone on?"

Gee, by my calculation, the cold war raged another 4 decades. But okay, if we want to credit Truman with keeping a lid on it, sure.

The case of the now sainted Truman, the Platonic presidential ideal of 2008, is an example of just this phenomenon. In 1953, when Truman left Washington for Independence, Mo., few were unhappy to see him go. His administration was accused of corruption and the Korean War was stalemated.

Wow. We've now got a St. Harry to whom we can turn for intercession in finding a decent leader for our country. Isn't that peachy? St. Harry, please not Rudy, please not Hillary, please not Obama...St. Harry, please isn't there somebody good? Not somebody like you, but somebody good?

Buffeted by war, unhappy with President Bush, many Americans—Democratic,
Republican, independent—seem hungry for a Trumanesque figure, a truth-telling,
bare-knuckled president who will give it to us straight. The question now is
whether anybody in the 2008 field can measure up.

The article then goes on to discuss the various figures vying for the top dog slot and how they compare to our beloved saint. The writer of this article, Evan Thomas, was born in the early 50s. Do you think this might be a case of wearing rose-colored glasses? I guess I'm pretty lucky that I was born during the Nixon presidency. We lost that war he presided over. Yes, I know he didn't start it, but between that and the Watergate scandal, his cause for canonization is pretty much kicked out the door, thank goodness.

I'm not declaring Truman good or bad. I'm not going to take a definitive stand on whether the Atomic bombs being dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki truly ended the war faster and ultimately saved American lives. I mean, I think they did do that. But I'm not sure that the ends (ending the war with fewer American casualties) justified the means (destroying two cities filled with civilians, many of whom just happened to be Catholic...blood-thirsty, war-mongering Catholics, I'm sure).

But I am saying that another Truman is surely not what America really wants and needs. Is it? Basically, if ol' Saint Harry were on the ticket, would you vote for him?

National Wear An Apron Day

Don't forget to tie one on!

And stop by and say hi to The Kitchen Madonna who started it all.

Mother's Day

My mom doesn't remember the bracelet I gave her once. I had gone on a field trip to the aquarium and used my souvenir money to buy her a bracelet made from sea shells. I'm sure it looked stunning on her!

She does remember the time my brother gave her a pin with a raccoon on it. My dad couldn't believe it when she wore it to church. It's a mom thing.

Yesterday morning, my husband and my son, Fritz, were the first (after me) out of bed. They gave me the usual good morning hugs and kisses. Bill picked up the paper, and Fritz turned on Disney. The TV reminded viewers that it was Mother's Day, so my two men dutifully wished me a happy mother's day. Several minutes passed and down came Katie. She immediately came up to me, gave me a big hug, and wished me a happy mother's day. Bill was astonished that she could think of that first thing in the morning. "She's a girl," I said. Yes, I knew there was a good reason to have daughters.

Katie had a present for me, too. Dangly angel earrings she had made herself at a friend's house under the tutelage of the friend's older sister. In blue - my favorite color. Aren't they lovely?

Of course, she asked if I would be wearing them to church, and of course I did. It's a mom thing.

On a related note, my sister sent me this e-card. I laughed so hard, I cried. And it kept the kids amused for at least 15 minutes or so - long enough for me to slip away for a short nap.

Rated R jokes

I'm sure you've heard this one:

What's an Irishman's idea of foreplay?
"Brace yourself, Mary!"

It's just a joke, and no offense is meant to lovers of the Emerald Isle, of course. And being a joke, I'm sure something like that never really happened.


Here's another one:

Pregnant woman (looking in the mirror at her expanding mid-section): How did this happen?

Her (partially Irish) Husband: Take off your clothes, and I'll show you!

Again, it's just a joke, and people don't really have conversations like that.
Certainly not in this house.

Pediatrician follow-up

I just got off the phone with the pediatrician as a follow up to the kids' physicals on Wednesday.

I'm drained. Drained.

First, we talked vaccines. She had to pull their records which is why this conversation was postponed for two days. Why did I have problems with the chicken pox vaccine and the MMR (and now, I also realize, the Hep A)? She was polite while listening to my explanation of the moral dilemma I face regarding vaccines made from aborted fetal tissue. By the way, if you don't know it yet, the new rule in the last year has been a booster between ages 4 and 6 for the chicken pox vaccine. One isn't good enough. What a surprise.

I directed her to www.cogforlife.org which explains things better than I can. She was interested, which I find comforting. She had also contacted the CDC looking for information, which I found highly professional and very kind. She gets my two thumbs up. The CDC had claimed there were no alternatives for measles and mumps, but www.cogforlife.org says otherwise. I told her that I was going to wait until I got to Kansas, because Jenny can't get these shots until late September anyway. I'll not fight this fight more times than I have to.

I really wish I had never done research on vaccines. Ignorance is bliss.

And then she voiced concerns about Billy's height and weight - concerns I share. She thought a consult with an endocrinologist would be good. Hello, Walter Reed, again. I might as well do this now, before we go.

But the emotional toll that these questions impose upon me are just too much. I know everything is fine. I know it. I trust it. But I have to have him tested, and maybe he'll even need treatment for something. Because everything being fine, doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It just means that I'll get through it. Despite tears and worries and headaches and trips to Walter Reed.

Easy money

Among the long list of questions asked at my initial OB appointment was if I had any hobbies or activities that would be affected by my pregnancy. With as straight a face as I could manage, I replied that my part-time job as a stripper was beginning to suffer.

New York wants to make strippers get a license to dance. I skimmed through this article which offers not much of interest to me, except for the quote that dancers at one club earn six-figures, which they don't necessarily declare on their tax returns. Holy cow. How do you convince a twenty-something young woman that this is just not a good way to make money?

New Blog Spotlight

G.I. June (Cleaver) - Homefront support from a team of moms who love our country.

And if you don't know Jennie's little army, you should read this. What she describes is all too familiar. "Like lifting a scab," is how my husband described my reaction to reading it. Ay-yup.

Hot Off the Press

Press Release

Right now, women across the United States and the blogosphere are searching thrift stores, ebay, and their mother's linen drawers for aprons to wear May 14th. Some are making their own. Wearing their aprons inside and outside of their homes, Apron Moms will celebrate their pivotal role in making a house a home.

As the search for domestic bliss continues, a search that includes cleaning and decluttering, cooking tasty nutritious meals, educating children, and the care and feeding of husbands, women will celebrate the difference they make in the lives of their families. They know an apron is like a uniform that conveys authority, unconditional regard, and motherly wisdom all at once. Apron Moms know aprons are about cooking and cleaning but they are also about emotional availablity, hospitality, and femininity.

On Monday, May 14th, apron wearing women will drop children off at school,
go to the post office and grocery store, and greet their families at the door
wearing their aprons. Some will go to their work outside of the home. But
regardless of where they spend most of their day, they will post pictures on
their blogs of the places they boldly wear their aprons.

There will be a virtual cocktail party at 5pm CST to giggle about our experiences, to toast the internet's role in bringing us together, and to plan next year's Apron Mom March on Washington.

The devil very well may wear Prada but authentically feminine women wear
aprons!

For further information, please email the Kitchen Madonna at kitchenmadonna@mac.com.

Alas, next year I won't be in the DC area to host any marchers, and photos for the boys' baseball team are right at the time of the virtual cocktail party. I'll make a virtual gin and tonic and toast apron-wearers throughout history while the boys pose for their mug shots. Do I dare wear an apron to such an event?

If you don't have an apron, maybe it's time to check out KM's Etsy shop. Surely, she has a style and pattern that will suit your kitchen. Be sure to tell her that I sent you.

Time for chores

My day began with Billy throwing up. And doing so rather untidily. He's rarely sick, so I'm trying not to alarm myself with irrational fears that he caught some incurable and deadly disease at the pediatrician's office yesterday when he crab-walked on the floor. I'm usually pretty calm about dirt and germs, but the two places where I pretty much freak-out (as much as I am capable of freaking out) about my kids touching things, especially the floor, are doctors' offices and public restrooms.

I think the pregnancy hormones are making me a bit more panicky than normal.

Thankfully, there is absolutely nothing on my calender for today. Just school.

And my ever-growing to-do list. So, I'll push-up my sleeves, get out the rug shampooer, and start tackling those chores before the sun's beckoning rays drag us outside. And today, Petey will get his nap, yes, indeed.

Cool, calm, collected...and clean

After getting my IV of coffee this morning, I set to work paying bills online and balancing my checkbook and other thrilling activities that are pretty mindless. Around 730 am, I realized that Pete wasn't awake yet, even though he's usually up and about long before 7 am.

Despite nearly 9 years of mommydom, I had a momentary wave of hysteria pass through my body as I thought that possibly something terrible had happened.

And then I instantly calmed myself by remembering that he's been skimping on naps recently (my fault, not his), and his poor little body was just trying to make up for his missed rests.

Then I thought of Jenny throwing up in her sleep while lying on her back. That sort of a thing killed Elvis; God was looking out for her last night, I am sure. And then I remembered that Billy had thrown up before bed and how my husband's stomach was upset and I had told him (around 3 am) that we obviously had some sort of virus in the house.

What if Pete had the virus too? What if he had thrown up in his sleep? What if he hadn't been as lucky as Jenny? Those cold fingers of fear encircled my heart and began to slowly squeeze it.

I had not yet showered. I knew that if I went into his room and peeked in on him, he would wake up and it would be another half hour until I got in the shower. I knew that if I went into his room and he were dead, I likely would not get a shower today at all! And what could I really change about his vital signs by postponing my shower? At the very least, I wouldn't be apologizing to the police for my appearance and smell if I took a shower first. It would be one less stressor in the tragic situation, knowing that my armpits were powder-fresh.

And so I took my shower, and when I was done, Petey was happily playing with Fritz downstairs. Fritz said he woke up one minute after I went upstairs.

It's a good thing I didn't debate much longer.

Pregnancy Insomnia

It all started with Katie coming in just before 2:30 am and saying, "Mom, Jenny sounds like she's throwing up." She was. While sleeping on her back. I had to wake her up to wash her hair and change her sheets and clothes.

The next thing I knew, it was 4 am and I was still awake and trying to get to sleep, and Bill's alarm started going off because he needed to get up. I relocated to the couch so his half hour snooze session wouldn't prolong the onset of my much needed slumber.

I'm not yet thinking straight, and I have a jam-packed day with no time for naps. I'm "taking" my coffee now and soon hope to rejoin the land of the coherent and non-babbling.

Good morning, world.

Forgive, or Forget?

In the not too distant past, I forgave a transgression against me. Or so I thought.

It was a whopper of a transgression, and yet the magnitude of the crime made it that much easier to be relatively calm and charitable about the whole event. It's all those pesky little sins to which we hold tight because we can wrap our fingers around them: a hurtful comment, a thoughtless gesture, even an impersonal traffic violation on the part of a stranger can fire us up all day long. But if someone does some egregious thing and especially if they somehow manage to be defensive about the situation whether from embarrassment or from affected ignorance of how terribly their actions have hurt you, it is too difficult to carry that burden of anger. It is simpler to just forgive their sin and move on. Or so I thought.

Well over a decade ago, a very silly close relative of mine did a youthfully foolish and illegal thing. She used my name and social security number to obtain credit at local department stores, where she then racked up a load of debt. I was mad and didn't want to have much to do with her for some time. I let the police handle the situation, and I trudged away with shoulders sagging from the weight of resentment and shock.

Two years later, I was getting married. This relative had repented and changed. I thought about the rest of my life, straining hard to see into the far distant future. I thought about the anger and the difficulties in dragging that baggage with me everywhere I went as I had been for two years. I decided I didn't want to maintain a strained relationship, and so I included her in my wedding. Everyone lauded me my generous act, and the relative was very grateful. But I knew two things. One: it is not very heroic to decide to stop expending your own personal energy in a negative way. Two: choosing to forgive does not bring instantaneous healing.

In fact, the first step in choosing to forgive seemed to be choosing to forget. I could will myself to not view this person as a thief. I could will myself to focus on her positive behavior and characteristics. I could will myself to act polite and charitable and even pleasant. But our relationship was not what it had been before the whole sordid affair. Charity is one thing; actually liking someone is quite another. That part took quite some time. Naturally, the process was speeded by a willful desire on both our parts to make it so. And thank God for these miracles, since she's now my best friend.

Fast forward to last year and this other situation and this other person who did something even worse. I knew, from experience, that the anger wasn't worth the effort. And so I forgave her. Or so I thought.

In the last week, an email prayer chain from my old parish has included this person in the list for serious health reasons. My reaction has been less than kind, I must confess. It's not that I wish ill upon her; it's more that smug satisfaction that comes from thinking what goes around comes around. Perhaps if she were a bit more right with God, bad luck would not constantly darken her skies with storm clouds. Perhaps these health issues "conveniently" come at a time when she needs extra sympathy and generosity from her latest scam victim.

Awful. Plain awful.

These thoughts are so shockingly uncharitable that I have been forced to really look at myself and how I have personally handled the situation in my heart. Obviously, I have not forgiven her. Obviously, I have not even taken that first step of forgetting the transgression - of thinking of her in a charitable way. Instead, I took a step in the opposite direction and forgot the sin by putting it and her completely out of my mind. No, I haven't been burdened with anger and resentment, because I have opted to pretend that it never happened.

Pray for your enemies. Not pray that they treat you better or that their lives improve so that your own life will improve, but rather pray for their health and their well-being for their own sake. Since she is not a close relative and wasn't even a close friend, I don't think that the sort of healing that I sought in my other situation is necessary. But if we are to share in the Kingdom, I will have to spend all of eternity with her, right? I hope that by praying for her health, I can take the first step toward a truer forgiveness and possibly be able to pray the Lord's Prayer without shame.

"...forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..."

Bad Hair Day

Although mohawks seem to be popular with the elementary-schoolaged crowd around here. Not sure the look is going to cut it in this house.

Getting old, going blind

My husband is 2 years and 7 months older than I am. As he ages, and as his body begins to show that age, I hear the warning alarms for the rapidly approaching demise of my own youth.

Recently, he was diagnosed with arthritis in his knee. I guess it's common among athletes to suffer early onset of this in particular joints that took a significant beating. Fencing and cross-country running seemed to have done it for him. Nevertheless, hearing the term "arthritis" - an old person's problem - applied to your husband is a bit hard. On the one hand, there are days I feel quite old with my own aches and stiffness. On the other hand, I'm in my 30's - I'm young! He's in his 30's - he's young! Young people do not have arthritis.

Also recently, he has noticed difficulty in reading printed material. He knows it's time to get his eyes checked and that he will likely be prescribed reading glasses. Now, besides arthritis, I can't think of another problem that screams "old person" than the inability to see small print that is right under your nose. I've been teasing him a lot about it. We've been playing the "can you read this?" game.

For years, we've played the "can you see that?" game. I am horribly near-sighted. Without my glasses, objects three feet away are blurry. My husband, Mr. Perfect Eyes, has found this to be amusing and fascinating. He would ask me to describe my world as I would see it without corrective lenses. To him, it was incredible that clear white letters on huge green street sign were not only not readable, but that I couldn't even discern that there were letters there at all. Average costs for LASIK surgery are about $2000 per eye. I've recently been considering starting a special fund to have this done. It would be nice to be able to see the clock on the bedside table.

Yesterday, I had my own eye exam. It's been more than 18 months, and it was time for a bit of tweaking to my prescription. The doctor, in his list of questions, mentioned I was still a little young, but...am I having any trouble reading things? I told him about my teasing my husband for just this issue, and he severely advised me to stop laughing at him. When you need reading glasses, and I don't say "if," I say "when," he will be laughing at you! Yes, doctor.

For now, though, thank goodness, I am spared the bifocals. Perhaps I'll save my pennies and have that corrective surgery done just in time to replace my near-sighted lenses with far-sighted ones. And then the laugh really will be on me.

Cinco de Mayo

Me: Oh, it's the fifth of May. Should I make something special to celebrate?

Bill: Coq au vin in honor of the French who won the war?

I served him burritos for lunch.

Going to the midwife

Last week, I tried to go to my first OB appointment. I called and asked for an appointment with the same midwife who cared for me with my last pregnancy. Reason for the appointment? they asked. I'm pregnant, I said. First appointment? they asked. Yes, I said. They gave me a date and time.

I went. The midwife wasn't there. They had scheduled me for a paperwork appointment. First day of last period? How many pregnancies? How many births? Any complications? Any allergies? Planned pregnancy? How do you feel about it?

I was mad - not about the pregnancy...about the appointment. Had the appointment-person told me she was doing this I would have asked to do both the paperwork and actual exams on the same day. I do need to find childcare for five children each time I go.

Today I did see my midwife. She asked if it was okay if a nursing student did my exam. I was really pretty happy with this. My midwife happens to be my next door neighbor - ah, army living! She is very professional, but still, living next door to the woman who does your pap smear is a bit...awkward. She spoke with me long enough to ask me when I intended to go down and get my blood drawn, since the paperwork lady put in my referral to the lab, and I didn't go. I hemmed, hawed, dodged and evaded answering as best as I could and basically put the discussion off until next time. I have no intention of having my blood drawn before I move to Kansas. I'm a difficult patient. And a big wimp. I don't give up my blood easily. I know I need to have an antibody screen in July, so I'd rather get ALL bloodwork done at once.

The nursing student was a really nice lady. She had to ask me all those obligatory questions: I can't get mad at her for them. There's a test called the AFP Screen...? No, thank you, I said. Because of your...age...you could go to Bethesda for a level 2 ultrasound and have an amnio if you'd like...? No, thank you, I said. One happy moment was when she was listening to my heart and observed that I obviously exercise - do you run? she asked. As a matter of fact, I do, I said.

And then: You're too far along to use an ultrasound for dating the pregnancy (I don't need to have the pregnancy dated, I thought), but if you'd like to have a peek at the baby, we could do that...? No, thank you, I said. For that, I got raised eyebrows. I do want to see the baby, actually, but I had the kids with a friend, I would have to walk down the hall to another room, it would take more time...and I'm not 100% sure that ultrasounds are perfectly safe and don't want to frivolously subject my child to them...did I mention that besides being a difficult patient, I am a firm believer in a minimalistic approach to healthcare? Sick people go to the doctor, you know. Healthy people stay away from doctors and their technologies. It's just a theory...

But finally, finally, we listened to the very strong heartbeat, and that was enough. Yes, those flutters I feel are tiny kicks and not the gurgling of digestive juices. Yes, that hard lump I feel when I lie back and press on my stomach is a growing baby. Soon that lump will be even bigger, and I'll be forced to dig the maternity clothes out of the bin. And soon the kicks will be stronger and my children will share in my excitement that comes from actually feeling a tiny new life develop in the womb.

And sooner than I think, I'll be waiting, probably just as impatiently as Cris, for that tiny new life to join us here in this world.

All things in moderation, but...

When Danielle Bean did her post last week about children and TV, there were some people who said that they didn't even own a set. Some people were critical of these people and felt that children needed exposure to things like TV so that they don't go off the deep end in TV viewing when they are older (or something like that).

My kids watch some TV, and I'm happy to have the chance to blog while they do it. But I see no problem with no-TV homes, either. I really don't feel that TV is so important in our modern lives that the lack thereof will cause permanent developmental damage in our children, nor do I think that no-TV will result in TV OD in a newly independent adult. I have a curry-free home. I'm not overly concerned that my sons will seek wives from India to overcompensate for what I failed to provide them as children.

But one thing I know for sure is this: children who have no TV in the house would not tune into Disney and see hard-core porn instead. I would be devastated if this happened to my kids, and, whether my husband liked it or not, would never, ever subscribe to cable or satellite TV as long as I had children living at home. When one of my children "accidentally" hits another child, I sometimes detect a defensive attitude in the offender who says, "I said I was sorry." I often say, "Sorry doesn't take the pain away. You must be more careful and more aware of others around you." No apology by the cable company can take away these images burned in a little child's mind. I hope that every home affected by this had a parent right there able to turn the channel quickly. I know that I am often in the next room when my children are watching their "safe" programming. I may have to rethink how comfortable I am with that arrangement.

What did you learn in school this year?

Last fall, after I tried to burn my house down, the fire department came out to check my smoke detectors. I was talking about school and kids with one of the guys and he said, "I'm in the third grade!" I said, "Me, too!" Even though I have a college degree and I feel that I have continued the learning process past my formal school days, I know that I am right there with my oldest child learning things I either never knew or forgot long ago. And since I will be repeating these lessons over and over again to a succession of children, I really can't imagine that this "new" information, seen through adult eyes, won't stick with me for much longer than it did the first time I was exposed to it.

Since I use the Baltimore Catechism for religion, and since I was educated in the '70s and '80s and that mainly through CCD classes, pretty much everything I teach from that book is stuff I didn't know. Well...Who made you? God made me. I got that. But the concise and clear answers to much of what we believe and why we believe it were never transmitted to me. I really enjoy religion class.

In math and grammar, I'm happy to report, I haven't learned much. I have had to check the answer book on occasion to clarify a punctuation rule or a part of speech, but not very often. The teacher's math book is only used so I can check answers quickly and not because long division or averaging numbers is particularly difficult.

But of all the subjects, Fritz and I share an immense appreciation for history. I liked it back in my school days, too, and studied it quite a bit in high school. In college, I just didn't have the time to take any classes given my heavy core curriculum load, except for one class, The History of the Low Countries, which I was able to take while studying abroad in Belgium (one of the Low Countries). Awesome class.

In the last three years, history for Fritz has been primarily American History and more specifically the time around the American Revolution. Each year, the curriculum gives more details about the 1700's and expands the student's awareness of where that era is in relationship to all of world history. When Fritz was in kindergarten, he summarized his knowledge of history like this: "First there was Adam and Eve, then there was Jesus, then there was George Washington, then there was us." By now, I'm sure he can name a few more people between Adam and Christ, and our history lessons have exposed him to the Vikings as well as the big players from Europe who claimed the Americas and explored, settled, and fought over them: the Dutch, the Spanish, the French and, of course, the English.

These are lessons that I learned over and over again throughout my school days, but it is great to read about this period of history with a much greater awareness of the global implications of certain events, for example, France's historical interest in aiding the Americans over the English in our revolution or the American Revolution's influence on the French Revolution.

One of the books we recently read was If You Lived at the Time of the American Revolution. I really like the If You Lived... series. I've found them to be chock full of information but written clearly enough for young students to comprehend. At the end of this book, the authors state their intention of presenting a balanced view of the conflict and presenting non-Patriots in a fair manner. On Amazon, reviewers either gave it 5 stars or 1 star, depending on how they felt about the treatment of the Loyalists. Those who thought it was good, thought it was balanced. Those who thought it was bad, felt that the Patriots were portrayed as bad guys and that it only mentions the negative circumstances surrounding the lives of the Loyalists. I will admit that there is little mention of any suffering on the part of the Patriots. According to the book, about one-third of the colonists favored independence, one-third were loyalists, and the remaining third attempted to be neutral. Surely for every Loyalist's child who wasn't permitted to go to school, there was a Patriot's child who had a similar experience. There were pockets of like-minded people, and human beings throughout history are not known for their kind and generous behavior toward those who think differently.

But since the winners write the history books, I don't feel that a few kind words on behalf of real human beings who had valid reasons for choosing to support the crown will damage a young student's budding sense of patriotism. And as for myself, this and other literature we read this year have made me ask myself where I would have placed my own loyalties in 1775.

I consider myself fiercely patriotic. I've lived "on the economy" in other countries for long enough to know that as bad as it might be here in some ways, it is better than any other alternative. This is home, and it doesn't matter whether it is Ohio or Virginia or Pennsylvania or New Jersey or Florida or Kansas, it is all home. But Belgium is not Germany is not the Czech Republic is not England and none of them are the United States. I am eternally grateful for all the hard choices made by the people who lived here in the late eighteenth century who suffered, fought and died to create this country. I would really like to think that I would have been a Patriot and would have done my best to contribute to its founding.

But no matter how I look at it, I can not support actions like the Boston Tea Party which breaks both the seventh commandment which forbids the unjust taking of another's property as well as the 4th commandment which includes obedience to lawful superiors. Perhaps if I were twenty years old in 1775, I would be cheering the heroes of that raid, but I can't imagine that this 36 year old devout Catholic would be in favor of it. It is one thing to boycott a product and quite another to destroy it.

But in my final analysis, I look at my view of current events. I am conservative and religious and vote accordingly. But I do not always agree with the loudest voices belonging to this side. I don't agree with every plank in every platform and certainly not with every vote by every Republican in Congress. There are times I think we make some poor choices as a country, but I still think it's the best place on earth. I think about the polls that show "only" a 39% approval rating for the President, and think I might be in the category of the 59% who disapprove (it's all how the question is worded...and what about being neutral as an option?). And I compare that to the one-third who supported the American Revolution, and I think the President is doing better than General George Washington would have been doing if the Rasmussen Report had been around back then. I do think I would have been a Patriot, and I have faith that our country, despite the doom and gloom predictions from all sides, will do just fine as we suffer through these difficult years of foreign war and domestic strife.

OK, I'm finishing the 3rd grade, I've learned a lot about the American Revolution, and I vote in favor of breaking ties with England. How about you? What grade are you in, what did you learn this year in school, and are you or are you not in favor of the American Revolution?

Decisions best not left to 7 year olds

Billy: I want to have 25 kids.

Me: You do? Unlike Fritz, he's never expressed a desire to marry or have children.

Billy: Yeah!

Me: Well, get a wife first then.

Billy: Oh no. I mean in this family.

Um, no.

My son, the hack

About 2 1/2 years ago, we replaced our crumbling, heavy, ten year old TV with a lightweight, flat screen LCD set. It is our sole TV. It came with a V-chip.

The V-chip is a nice thing. It doesn't replace parental guidance and discernment, but it is convenient for those times when a young child inadvertently begins surfing the channels or an older child intentionally starts looking for alternative programming. We don't get any premium channels, but it's not R-rated movies that concern me so much. A brief visit to a country music video channel might coincide with the playing of Trace Adkins' Honky Tonk, Badonkadonk, which is eyeful enough for adults and completely inappropriate for kids.

Up until a year ago, we had no problem with the V-chip, which we set at the most conservative level for all programming. Even Y-7 shows were screened. When you change channels, the programming comes on briefly - perhaps for 3 or 4 seconds - and then the screen goes blank awaiting the secret code if the rating is higher than the settings allow. Convenient for adult viewing after the kids go to bed, typing in the code frees all channels until the TV is turned off.

When we moved to this new house a year ago, our one option for TV (aside from satellite) was with the phone company and their fiber optic network. Soon thereafter I noticed that Bill would turn on a cop show or something like that after 9 pm, and it wouldn't ask for the code. We checked the settings and did all the troubleshooting we could think of. The V-chip worked on some channels some of the time, but not always. I theorize that the problem lies with the phone company not broadcasting appropriate ratings. I considered launching a campaign to have them clean up their act, but decided that it wasn't worth the hassle. The V-chip is a convenience, but isn't my primary means of controlling what my children watch. They watch certain shows at certain times of the day, period.

But I do allow Fritz, the oldest child and the earliest riser, some freedom in channel surfing in the early morning. He knows the PBS stations and Disney and Nickelodeon (which doesn't begin it's Nick Jr programming until 9 am), and I will let him go between them. {Is the desire to flip between channels innately male, or what?} Once the younger kids get up, though, he needs to restrict his viewing to more appropriate shows (no Jimmy Neutron, for example).

For some reason, although we can watch drug deals, sex and violence without restriction at night, Bob the Builder was recently deemed too dangerous for viewing by my anonymous TV provider. Because the V-chip takes those few seconds to kick in, Fritz can see the show for a moment before the screen goes blank. Now, Fritz is too old for Bob the Builder, but he still enjoys it, and once Pete (my other early riser) is up, his viewing choices diminish. He and Petey will sit and watch the show together: Fritz will sing the theme song and interact with his younger brother the whole time. It's quite cute. Fritz knows the show is on, but can't view it. For a bit, we could fiddle with the channel and get it to come on, but in the last week or so, you had to type in the code to watch the show. So I did.

Fritz wanted to know the code. I told him that there was no point in having a code if he knew it. We've been back and forth on this for several days now. The code was the factory set code of "0000" - not exactly a tough thing to decipher, but it's been working for 2 1/2 years now, right? But 2 years ago, I didn't have a nearly 9 year old who desired to know the code. I wasn't particularly shocked when he announced the correct code to me this morning. Won't he be upset when that code doesn't work tomorrow morning?

In another 2 years, perhaps he'll be clever enough to not tell me that he knows the code. Perhaps in 2 years, I'll be clever enough to have him think I don't know it either. Just a half step ahead, that's all I need...

New Month's Resolution for May

I didn't forget to post this earlier, I was just busy cleaning my house for a party. Now, why on earth did I clean my house prior to 25 to 30 children coming through it with handfuls of potato chips and cups of purple Kool-aid? I guess because I love that Dyson so much...

It's the first of the month, and I love the opportunity that a new beginning affords. No big plans, just focus on one small thing for one month. This month, I'm going to concentrate on ending this school year and getting ready for next year. We're plugging along nicely in our curriculum...well, I'm forcibly dragging my boys through these last few weeks. But we're not behind and barring unforeseen emergencies, we should finish at the end of the month. I've promised them a trip to the National Gallery of Art on June 1st as our final reward, and I'll even let them pick out something from the gift shop if they earn enough smiley faces in the next four weeks for cooperative behavior. It is so hard to get them to focus on math and handwriting when the warm, sunny outdoors beckons them (and me!).

Then in early June, I'm going to the IHM Conference where I can place a book order and get free shipping. I will finalize my shopping list this month, and be all ready to order next year's supplies. I hope this will reduce the temptation to browse and splurge-purchase that awesome music program that I will never use or those really nice math manipulatives that will only be strewn about the schoolroom by the toddler on a daily basis.

Come July, we're moving to Kansas. Strangers will come and box my things and put cryptic lables on them. There is no guarantee that all the school supplies will be packaged in their own boxes or have similar labels. I might open a box and think it's only candlesticks, tablecloths and serveware...but buried underneath all that may be a math textbook and all the blank notebooks I stocked up on at some end of season sale. My husband begins classes on August 13th, and I plan to do the same with the kids. Not being able to locate school stuff is a sure-fire way to drive this homeschool momma bonkers. So when my order from the conference arrives, I will add to it the books I already own that I will need for Billy and Katie. These items will be carefully set aside with a clear label and will travel with us so I know exactly where everything I need is.

So, finish school, make a booklist, and set aside texts needed for next year. I'll worry about moving next month.

Do you have a new month's resolution? Last month, Cris resolved to have her baby, but it didn't work out that way. I'll bet she succeeds this month, though!

I have all the clues I need.

Was it the toddler in the kitchen with the dinner fork?

...or...

The toddler in the boys' bedroom with the wooden sword?

...or...

The toddler in the girls' bedroom with the toy train?

...or...

All of the above?

Because when bodies are dropping like flies around here, it is pretty obvious whodunnit.

The only things left to ascertain are when and where he will strike again...and who will be his next victim?

The older kids have their orders. If you see Petey with something in his hand: Run!