Time to celebrate

I think Hell Month is just about ended. It was a doozy.

Bill drove himself to work today, and managed just fine. I will no longer need to take him to and from physical therapy three mornings a week.

The boys' last fencing class was today, and the academy is not continuing their weekday, morning lessons. They begin their next session on Saturday at noon (and thank goodness, they will let Billy take the next level even though he is not yet 9). So, Saturdays are a bit crammed, but Thursdays are not. And Bill can drive (Praise the Lord, all you lands).

Tomorrow, Fritz should be mostly finished with Week 8, and the other kids will complete Week 7. We are 2 weeks off from where I planned to be, but I have to be happy with this. My van is really not a good classroom, and the kids have worked hard under bad conditions.

Right now, the house is mostly clean and tidy, and the classroom no longer looks like the enemy has targeted it with a propaganda leaflet drop. The dishes are almost done. Two out of three dirty clothes hampers are empty, and what is clean and dry is folded. The washer and the dryer are busy with more.

Even a big stressor of the month - filling the heating oil tank (or rather paying for the filling of the heating oil tank) miraculously resolved itself this morning when I reconciled my checking account and realized I hadn't entered one of Bill's travel reimbursements. The travel voucher covered the cost of the oil with some to spare.

Which is why I called Bill and suggested we finally "pay" the kids for their earned kids' meals at whatever fast food joint is between here and his work. We haven't eaten out in months, I think, (and I count take out as eating out), and the kids had been earning points to get their own meal with their own soda and their own toy for some time. I'm not sure what Bill and I will have, but as long as it's not cooked by me, I'll be happy.

Right now, life looks good.

Games children play

My children have a lot of games they like to play in the car.

First, there is the "punch buggy" game. I had never heard of this until I met my husband, and by then I was too old to find it amusing. My husband thinks it's a fine game, and he taught it to the kids.

Next, they added the license plate game. Shout out the state of any non-Virginia license plate you see. Today they had to hash out the rules over the D.C. plates they see. "It's not a state," argued one boy. "And we live in the D.C. area," argued the other. So, I guess D.C. plates are out.

The newest game is vehicle identification. Not normal cars, of course, but who can be the first to spot the other things on the roads?

My favorite game is the one using Obama campaign signs for target practice with their imaginary guns and other weapons. I don't know where they come up with this stuff.


They play ALL these games at the same time. I don't know if they keep score or not. So, on the way home this morning from Bill's office, this is what I heard:

"Truck!"
"Bus!"
"Maryland!"
"Truck! Taxi! Truck!"
"Maryland"
"Truck!"
"Punch buggy green!"
"Truck!"
"Truck!"
"Ambulance!"
"Fire fighters!" {Hail Mary, full of grace...}
"Pennsylvania!"
"Bus!"
"Taxi!"
"Taxi!"
"I already called that one.
"The yellow one?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Bus!"

Then as we approach the median whose grass is obscured by the two dozen blue signs planted in it...

"Everybody! Get ready to fire!" (That was Katie.)

And when we were close enough, the van erupted in a cacaphony of noises which my scant skills in onomatopoeia cannot do justice.

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

The header is something I just threw together to make it match, but I really like my new background. So, click over from your feed reader and leave me a nice comment. I did use the tutorial from The Cutest Blog on the Block, but I did all the work myself. And I've sprained my shoulder patting myself on the back.

Mary: getting bigger, growing up

Bill is learning to walk again. He's about on par with Mary: they do just fine if they're holding on to something else.

*******

Mary inches along on tippy-toe with her eyes right about at the level of the desk, her little fingers reaching out for the interesting looking objects she espies: cell phone, scotch tape, bobbin, coffee mug (full and hot), magnets, pens, Magnificat.

*******

We have these dolphin bath toys. Mary can successfully place a dolphin inside the floating ring. I'm impressed with her skill. Best yet, she's impressed with her skill. She cackles and claps to praise herself.

*******

Mommy's lap belongs to Mary. Peter is not welcome to share Mommy's lap. She pushes at him and fusses if he dares snuggle with her mommy. It was not long ago that she smiled and happily curled up at my breast with her body on Petey's legs and her arm patting his as we all cuddled together.

*******

I gave Mary some scrambled eggs for the first time the other day. "Good?" I asked her, and she smiled and clapped in response after every bite. My older boys had jarred baby food. Katie had homemade baby food. The last three have gone pretty much straight to table food. They have been my best eaters so far, although for some reason my three year olds develop weird food preferences. Peter has suddenly stopped eating tomato-based sauces (except ketchup, of course). The pasta must be plain, and he'll only eat the crust of the pizza. Jenny, now 5, is slowly coming out of her own food issues. So, I will enjoy this baby who loves everything I put in front of her knowing that in a year or so, she will throw a fit if I cut her pancakes the wrong way, and a year after that, she'll decide that she doesn't "do" pancakes.

*******

Mary has never been a fan of the car, and as she's gotten older, things haven't improved. I'm considering going to the Saturday Vigil Mass just so that one day a week, I don't (Mary doesn't) have to get in the car. It's tough being the baby in an active family.

*******

Mary likes soda cans. We don't normally have them, but there were leftovers from our Oktoberfest. Last night, she pointed to the one next to Bill and made her "gimme" noises. Bill said no, and she gave him a look of shock: No? What do you mean, no? I'm sorry, I can't process that. I always get what I want. I'm the baby!


She's getting big.

Baby's second "words"

There's a Bill Cosby routine about dads teaching their sons football. Working with them for years, practicing the throwing and the catching. Spending hours in the cold to watch them play. The boys grow up and get on their college teams. They make a big catch on a nationally televised show, and with the camera in their face, what do they say to the world?

"Hi, Mom!"

This is payback, of course. Moms are the ones with the swollen bellies and bulging veins. Three months of vomiting, perhaps a respite, then 4 months of sciatica. Hours of labor, the pain of childbirth. Then months of leaking and sore breasts. Mounds of diapers and hundreds of wiped bottoms. And inevitably, what is a baby's first word?

"Dada!"


Mary has been saying Dada for quite some time. I guess she sort of says Muh for me, but I refuse to accept that as a word. It's just babble. I mean, Muh? What is Muh?

But she definitely has a second "word" now. She lifts her shirt, tickles her tummy and says, "tikki!"

It's how I fill my days: tickling babies and laughing when they tickle themselves.

life with many kids

On the way home from ballet yesterday afternoon, I stopped by the library. As we left, the older woman in front of me turned, smiling, and said that another woman had said I had left one at home. And then she was gone before I could figure out what she meant.

As I made my way to the van, I realized that Fritz, who was not with me, must have been the "one I left at home" (he was camping).

Which meant that somebody had seen me there before with all six kids. I think I've taken all six there twice in the last four months.

Holy cow, I thought, I can't even keep track of how many kids my acquaintances have, let alone the offspring of a perfect stranger.

Somebody is always watching. And counting.


*******


I finally put something in the car for me to read while sitting and waiting. Mary has gotten past the "hold me constantly" stage which made reading difficult. And she's not yet at the "holy terror" stage which requires a delicate balance of freedom to roam and explore with vigilant supervision and loving restraint to prevent her from destroying property and injuring herself or others. (She's almost there, but not quite.)

Several times in the last few weeks I've been left to amuse myself while Mary happily played with puzzles or books. And I've been reading the various parenting magazines that were in the waiting rooms.

How to encourage manners in your child.
Why you should give your child every vaccination possible.
Healthy things to pack your child for lunch.

I am so beyond these magazines.

I'd like to see articles geared toward life with more than 2.2 children.

Bilocation: how to get four kids to four different activities at once.
Paying for piano: thrifty ideas from thrifty moms.
Orthodonture: does your child really need braces or can he wait until you're done paying for his sister's?

One article I saw was about disciplining other people's children. Years ago, I was uncomfortable stepping in when another parent was lacking. Gee, lady, can't you keep your tot from whacking my son with the sand shovel? Nowadays, I'm not so uncomfortable, I just don't want to. Look, lady, I've got six to watch, you have one. Pick up the slack!

One section in the article was about What to Do if You Lose Your Cool. Situation: mom drops off kid. An hour later, you find her kid and your kid climbing on the roof of the shed. You yell at them to get down. The article suggested that, at pickup time, you tell the other mom that you yelled so that she doesn't just get his side of the story and think you're a bad mom for yelling.

(Ahem.)

This is a public service announcement. If your kid is doing something dangerous at my house (and I don't care if you're there or not), I'm going to yell. And I won't tell you about it later, because I will have forgotten all about it.

Saints, Alive!

The homeschool group did it's All Saint's Day party last night. In attendance:

St. Martin, preparing to cut his cape in half (store bought several years ago - see Bill)

St. Boniface Pius X Ignatius of Antioch, whose feast was yesterday (also store bought and reworked - see Medusa) Billy had trouble deciding.

St. Elizabeth of Hungary (yes, I made it, no, I'm not proud. It is, quite honestly, poorly done.)



Mary, Mother of God (Bill bought me that scarf in Afghanistan, the dress is Princess Leia with a trim added)




St. George (Bill made this suit of armor SEVEN years ago out of poster board. He is a clever man. Fritz wore it, but all the other children have shunned it, until now. I have saved it, dutifully protected with crumpled newspaper. Our grandchildren might wear it. Or perhaps I'll have it framed in a shadowbox.)




I wanted Mary to be a dragon for George, but she would have none of it.


My sewing machine has been going non-stop for weeks, it seems. I'm not done yet.

I can always count on Peter...

...for a Grand Prize laugh.

Thanks, Laura.

Another Yuktoberfest haiku

Too much chocolate

Cool porcelain feels so good

Soothes upset tummies

(photo: Peter, last Halloween, age 2)

Go see Laura for more seasonal haikus.

Yutoberfest haiku

Saint Elizabeth

Desires a gown for the ball

I'm sewing all night.

Go see Laura for other bad haikus

Need a laugh?

Check out the photo that Bill posted, and see if you can come up with a witty caption. I think he's offering an empty Percocet bottle as a reward for the best one.

Mary Moments Carnival

The Rosary Edition

Just think about it

"Do you pray the rosary every day?" the priest asked me.

"I try to," I answered brightly, happy to be able to honestly answer in the affirmative. I'm not always successful, but it is a goal, and I'm best when I can go for a run. I pray when I run.

"Do you pray it with your husband...with your kids...or just by yourself?" he pressed.

"Just by myself," I sheepishly admitted. That's MY time.

"Well, you know, it would be good to say it with the children...just think about it..."

{sigh}

I DON'T WANNA! Mentally, I threw myself down like my three year old, kicking my feet and writhing from side to side. Really, no matter how far along the path I may think I have come in shunning selfish behavior, I find myself right back at square one: ME AND WHAT I WANT.

I want peace and quiet. I want meditation. I want quiet whispers at the mouth of a cave on a mountaintop.

I do not want 20 minutes of fussing and fidgeting and correcting pronunciations (or remaining calm and ignoring all of the above). I do not want little eyes rolling and little mouths moaning at the torture their mother is putting them through.

But actually, my three older children love to pray the rosary. It is the next two, who are very young, who do the fussing. And the fidgeting. (They all do the bad pronunciations.)

And so, I thought about it.

I discussed it with a friend. Well, actually, I told her just how impossible it was. After all, I was struggling to develop a habit of morning prayers with the children: morning offering, praying for the Pope and his intentions, Guardian Angel prayer. Five minutes, that's all I had. I couldn't possibly do a 20 minute rosary every morning. Or afternoon. Or evening.

But then I thought, maybe a decade. That would only add about 5 more minutes. Couldn't I do that?

And immediately an opportunity arose: Bill's physical therapy. Three mornings a week, we all drive him over for his knee. The other two weekdays also have us in the car.

So we have expanded our morning prayer to include one decade of the rosary. We alternate what mystery we "meditate" on. We go around for the Hail Marys: Fritz, Billy, Katie, even Jenny, then Bill or I before we go around again for ten. It was a seamless transition, and the kids love it, even Jenny (after our first session where I basically said we would sit there until she did her part and, after about 3 minutes, she finally gave in and hasn't been a problem since).

Today, in fact, we did it with such ease and so quickly that I wondered: couldn't we do two decades? I'll have to think about it...

Beauty among the dung

Skip the political "news" and the stories about collapsing world economies.

Do not read about the monster of Austria or the latest suicide bombings.

Rest assured that the price of gas will go down, and then up, and then down, and then up.


But do take a moment to read this love story.

Po-TAY-toe, Po-TAH-toe (let's call the whole thing off)

This story about a lost manatee reminded me of another lost manatee several years ago.

There was a lost manatee. He swam up the Atlantic coast. He got into the Hudson River.

Bill told me about him. He told me about how they tracked him from Florida. I couldn't believe it. It just seemed so impossible that they could have followed the animal for so long.

The problem was: Bill said manatee, but instead of picturing this:

I pictured this:

Manatee...Macaw...

How could they track something so small? I asked.

No, I haven't lived it down yet.

Dear Children,

This is why I don't like you to use my camera. I don't know why you would feel compelled to touch the lens and get it sticky, but you do. It is very difficult for the automatic point-and-shoot contraption to focus on something past your fingerprint. I know it makes me sounds like a mean mommy, denying you your artistic freedoms and all, but your aunt gave you a camera. Failure to charge it does not give you permission to use mine. Here are our Oktoberfest pictures.

Wouldn't they have been really lovely if they were in focus?

{sigh}

Well, at least we all had a good time.

Buddy, can you spare a dime?

In the mail yesterday came a solicitation, the kind where they enclose a coin and want you to send it back five hundredfold.

The cellophane window was ripped open and the dime was gone.

Hard times call for desperate measures.

shocking quote

"I think the responsibility that the Democrats have may rest more in resisting any efforts by Republicans in the Congress or by me when I was president, to put some standards and tighten up a little on Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac," Clinton said recently.

Excuse me? Did the former President just say that partisan politics might have played a role in today's economic crisis? Please note that he doesn't say he himself played any role.

This is what is absolutely despicable about politicians who play these games. They would rather see their country suffer than stoop to cooperate with the "enemy."

It's not supposed to be this way. Really, it's not.

Note: I can't get the hyperlink thingy to work. I'll try again later.

The Big 1

October 2007

November

December

January 2008

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

Avoiding mental atrophy

By the time I sat down to look at Bloglines last night, I was tired. I clicked on The Daily Eudemon and groaned at a long post that required brain cells.

I went to bed instead.

That long post had an equally long Part II post which I just finished reading, since my brain functions much better after some sleep.

In summary: existentialism and the Little Way.

Good stuff. Stretch your mind today.

Carnival

Sarah is looking for submissions to the Mary Moments carnival over at Behold Your Mother:

Mary Moments: the Upcoming Rosary Edition

The rosary has a special place in my life, and I can't wait for this month's Mary Moments carnival! We'll be celebrating the rosary with our monthly Mary Moments at Behold Your Mother.

Share your stories, your reflections, and your enthusiasm.
What is your "relationship" with the rosary?
What are some tips you have to share with others?
How has the rosary impacted your life?

Submit your posts by October 10 using the online form or by emailing me at peerybingle [at] gmail [dot] com. If you don't have a blog, I'd be happy to host your guest post here at my blog. We'll have Mary Moments live by October 15.


She even suggests combing your archives if time is a constraint!

Please don't forget the slice of lime

The kids all like Kenny Chesney's music. I do too. We all sometimes need some music that doesn't require thought. But I can see why some people restrict their children's music diet to Bach, Mozart, Strauss, and all that. If your three year old is going to be singing at the grocery store checkout line, wouldn't Handel's Messiah be nice? It would be perhaps a little less embarrassing than:

Sit right here and have another beer in Mexico...

Which is the only line he knows, so he repeats it ad nauseum.

Owl bet they can catch that mouse

Years ago, my dad (or my mom?) gave me the book Club the Bugs and Scare the Critters. It has lots of useful information about natural pest control, although at least half the suggestions will not appeal to those who think killing rodents is not nice. Even I balk at some (most) of their ideas.

But it's good to know what works.

Ever since this incident, I've been reading (and re-reading) the section on mice. According to the book, gadgets that use sound waves to deter mice are a waste of money. Peppermint oil, though, is a natural repellant. I can see me putting cotton balls soaked in that on the kitchen counters, especially at night. Might even be nice, although it may make me hungry for candy canes.

I will not follow the suggestion of putting out instant potato flakes and a bowl of water. Apparently, the flakes will expand in the stomach causing a rupture and a torturous death. Not my style.

I have seriously considered getting a cat. But not all cats are mousers. A friend suggested one of the strays in her neighborhood. That increases the odds they know what to do. Hmmm...

The book says that some dogs are good at killing mice. I have a dog. She has demonstrated an ability to catch small furry things. Maybe I don't need a cat, methinks.

This morning, I finally met IT. I had started a load of clothes last night, but failed to close the lid. The washer and dryer are in a closet to the right of my kitchen counter where I have my coffee pot. I was on my way to get my cuppa when I noticed the lid. Closing it, it immediately began the spin cycle, startling IT. As I was pouring my coffee, I noticed IT, and IT noticed me, stopped short, made an about-face and disappeared among my laundry baskets on the floor.

My brief, but classic, cry of eek woke Bill (sorry, honey) and brought the dog. But she, like me prior to this past Monday, was not expecting a non-human life-form, and could not understand what my pointing and gesturing was all about.

To appease my mouse-loving Franciscan commenters, I just ordered a non-lethal trap. I'm not sure exactly what I'll do with the ones I trap (release them on the median of a busy highway?), but I'd prefer to handle a live mouse than a carcass.

I didn't intend to make a long post (this one was begun hours ago), but one more possibility for mouse disposal presented itself this morning. We were getting ready (in that insane chaotic way a household of 8 gets ready) to take Bill to physical therapy when the dog started barking. Wondering what could have gotten her riled, beyond the usual repertoire of local dogs barking, cats howling, joggers passing and kids acting like maniacs, I stepped out of my bedroom and looked out the sunroom window. There, perched at the top of a post holding our bird feeders and staring right at me, was a barred owl. It took my breath away. I tried to get Bill over to see it, but the kids report that another owl attacked it and the two fell off the deck and away. Such excitement for 7 am!

Anyway, if an owl or two wants to show up every morning, I could plan a release then. It wouldn't be cruel. I'd be helping the food chain, that's all. The book doesn't mention getting a pet owl to help you out, but I'll bet they're the best mouse catchers of all.

U Can't Do It

"Awwww! I missed my turn!" It's only the second time going to fencing. I got in the next left turn lane.

"Mom, you can't do a U-turn here." The kid noticed the sign at the same time I did.

We moms work so hard to establish a sense of "other" worldness: recognizing that you are not the center of the universe, being aware of how your actions affect others, noticing things happening farther away than the TV screen, and, of course, understanding that if everybody obeyed the rules, we would have a much nicer world in which to live.

But, by golly, why do they have to take these great leaps forward in their social development when you are late and wishing to make a U-turn where it clearly says not to?

I listened to the kids talking about what I should do. A U-turn here was clearly out of the question. Perhaps that road to the left connected to the road we needed? Or maybe we could make a legal U-turn over there.

As I listened, waiting for the light, I myself wondered the best course of action. What message does it send to children to break the law? Would I not scar them for life or certainly teach them that rules are optional? How could I expect obedience when I myself did not demonstrate it?

What would you have done? What do you guess I did?

It can't be October already

It can't be. Because if it's October, then there must be feast days like the Little Flower on the 1st (no, not today, some other day) and heavy hitter Teresa of Avila on the 15th (of some other month). And sandwiched exactly halfway in between (on the 8th) is the birthday of a little girl whose middle name is Therese.

But not this month.

No, sirree, we do not have any babies turning into toddlers this month. Nope nope nope.

New Month's Resolution for October

Is it possible to go an entire month without complaining?

I shall try. It will be a difficult month. I may as well embrace the cross.


What is a New Month's Resolution? Every month I look at where I need to focus my attention. Perhaps I've been procrastinating on certain chores. Perhaps I need to spend some extra time with one or more of the kids. Perhaps I'd like to try a new habit. New Month's Resolutions are not grandiose plans to lose ten pounds or declutter the entire house or give up smoking (of course, I don't smoke, but if I did, this would not be the venue in which I would give it up). New Month's resolutions are short-term commitments; they are easily attained goals; they focus on what is needed right now, instead of what is best for a lifetime.

Do you have a new month's resolution?