Chant CD

My friend Rachel's brother is a priest, and he lives at St. Michael's Abbey in Orange County, California. The Abbey is releasing a new chant CD, called Anthology, due out on February 10th.

Here is a YouTube audio sample.

And you can buy it here or here or here.

They also have a Christmas CD.

On the Fashion Runway...

I look back at childhood photos and wonder what my mom was thinking in her selection of my clothing. I don't care that all the other children were wearing bell bottoms and polyester and brown and orange, she should have been able to rise above the chaff, right?

I am certain that my own children will do the same thing. For the record, I neither selected nor approved this outfit. This child has her own fashion sense, and I take no responsibility for her "look."

And this one, who is increasingly difficult to capture in a decent photo ("Mary, stop moving!")...well, let's just say that I'm glad this underwear is clean. And I'm doubly glad it isn't mine.

Watched Pots...

...do eventually boil.

Jennie had her baby yesterday - Thursday. Not Wednesday or Saturday, as she predicted. Must be a boy.

Waiting for details...

...but in the meantime, CONGRATULATIONS!!!!

Tara's here? No, Tarragon.

A few weeks ago, I signed up for six weeks of fresh vegetables delivered right to my home from a local farm via this site. They have a "winter" program, stuff grown in their greenhouse. We received our first delivery yesterday, which was mainly salad greens - and that's fine. We eat salad. There was a small bunch of carrots, which everybody has been sneaking as though they were candy, so I don't think they'll last a full 24 hours, unless I hide them.

They also sent a bunch of fresh tarragon. Any suggestions on what to do with it? Tarragon has not been a key ingredient in my usual repertoire of dishes, but I'm always willing to try something new.

These 6 weeks are a test-run to see if we use the majority of the produce. The spring-summer program costs over $1000 for 18-20 weeks (not exactly sure). I can't afford to waste that kind of money if we don't eat the stuff. Based on this week, though, I like what I see. I'd prefer to grow my own, but between the shady garden plot and the deer who frequent our yard, I'm concerned I'd spend a lot of time working, and have little to show for it.

Which reminds me: I claimed that the only thing that would inspire me to shoot a gun at an animal was a rabid one preparing to attack my toddler. That's untrue. Years ago, when I had my own garden in a nice sunny spot, I attempted lettuce for the first time. It was easy to grow, and my little row of leaves was coming up nicely, and I was salivating over the thought of a minutes-fresh green salad in a few weeks. One morning, I went back to do some weeding and pruning when I looked over at my row of lettuce. It was gone, nibbled down to the ground by a groundhog we saw frequently in the area, and one that Bill had once gone after with a shovel. At that moment, I could have throttled the thing with my bare hands. So, I'm willing to bet that even Bambi himself partaking of the fruits of my labor would find his hind quarters peppered with buck shot.

Getting ready for Sunday

Bill has posted two Superbowl videos. Do NOT watch the first one with children in the room (uh, Bill: warnings might have been helpful. If Jenny throws out a few choices phrases later, I blame you).

But the second video is impressive, mainly because of the ages of the performers, listed at the end (between 11 and 13 years old). They almost make me want the Steelers to win. Almost.

Baby's First Sled Ride

Time to De-Ice My Drive

My steeply sloped driveway is a thick sheet of ice. Bill got out Tuesday morning before the snow came and has been parking up on the street for the last two days. There is a tree strategical placed in the middle of the bottom of the drive, so if you lose control, that would likely be the thing to halt your slide.

Right now, it is below freezing, but the sun is on its way up and the temps are expected to climb a few degrees above the melting point. Hopefully the sunny day and the just-warm-enough temperatures will make clearing that drive of ice an easy task. The kids will be sorely disappointed to lose their sledding hill, but we have Tuesday's rescheduled piano lessons this afternoon and Scouts tonight.

I'll be a bit sad to see the sledding hill go, too. Not only were the kids entertained for hours yesterday afternoon, they all went straight to bed.

Quotes to remember

Last weekend, I finally got around to C. S. Lewis' Abolition of Man. Two quotes I want to remember:

"When all that says 'It is good' has been debunked, what says 'I want' remains. {snip} My point is that those who stand outside all judgements of value cannot have any ground for preferring one of their own impulses to another except the emotional strength of that impulse. We may legitimately hope that among the impulses which arise in minds thus emptied of all 'rational' or 'spiritual' motives, some will be benevolent. I am very doubtful myself whether the benevolent impulses, stripped of that preference and encouragement which the Tao teaches us to give them and left to their namely natural strength and frequency as psychological events, will have much influence. I am very doubtful whether history shows us one example of a man who, having stepped outside traditional morality and attained power, has used that power benevolently. For without the judgement 'Benevolence is good' - that is, without reentering the Tao - they can have no ground for promoting or stabilizing their benevolent impulses rather than any other."

And the concluding three sentences:

"If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To 'see through' all things is the same as not to see."

Link

A friend's article.

To think, I almost threw it out

I was cracking the whip assisting my daughters in the tidying of their room. Everything has a place. Nothing was in it.

"Is this pretty?" I asked.

They admitted it was not.

On top of the dresser, among other things, was a lone sock.

"Katie, put this in the hamper." I ordered requested nicely.

"But it doesn't have a match," she moaned explained. And keeping it on the dresser solves that problem? {Sarcastic comments are kept to myself.}

"I KNOW it doesn't have a match. It's mate is on the dryer, where it has been for a month, waiting for this one to cycle through the laundry."

"Oh."

Oh, indeed.

Desperation Dessert

When the crowds will riot without something sweet, but bedtime is in an hour, this was just right. And the yield of 24 mini-brownies meant no tempting leftovers for breakfast (that's a good thing). If you have more than 6 kids and one hungry husband, you might want to double the recipe.

Changefest '09

Jon Stewart is truly the funniest man in America.

Thanks for the laugh, Jennie.

Change: one voter at a time

Yesterday a repairman came to fix an appliance. We talked, because I talk to everybody. He is a Muslim immigrant from Afghanistan, one of seven children, his mother is now dead, all his siblings live in the US. His wife runs a daycare (God bless her - that is something I would never do).

Since he'd been here for a long time, I asked him if he had voted. "Of course," he exclaimed with all the enthusiasm of one who relishes that freedom so many Americans disregard. "For Obama," he added.

I nodded neutrally, but he sensed I was not a big fan of our new President and wondered why.

"I just can't vote for somebody who thinks it's OK to kill unborn babies." This is my stock line. It's the truth, it's succinct, it's not politely evasive. I'm tired of being polite.

The man's jaw dropped. "Obama thinks this is OK?"

"Well, yes," I said. It hadn't occurred to me that people just didn't know all the issues. I remembered when I was a foreigner in a country where I struggled to understand the nightly news, where my conversational German failed me over lunches where politics were discussed. I doubt that I could possibly have resembled an educated voter, had I the opportunity to participate in elections.

"That's against my religion," he said. Of course it is. "Unborn...born...it doesn't matter...it's the same...to kill that life..." And he struggled, his vocabulary unable to wrap itself around such weighty concepts. I don't think they include words like sacred in ESL classes.

Soon he was done, and he left. But I think he might start looking up new vocabulary words. And I think he might start paying attention to other news. And I think, maybe, in four years, he may vote for somebody else.

Photo Update

No ER trip, no stitches.

I was not prepared to leave the house when disaster struck yesterday. Pete was still in bed. The girls had not eaten breakfast. And I hadn't had my second cup of coffee.

By the time we were ready to go, the cut on Mary's head looked a little better. I went to a friend's house (that was pre-planned anyway) and, with her approval, decided stitches probably wouldn't be necessary.

I couldn't get her to sit still for pictures. But here is her scabby mug.

The boys are lucky they didn't aim their projectile any lower. OT law would be enforced: an eye for an eye.

ER Trips are never on my to-do list

Bleeding head wounds that may require stitches before my second cup of coffee make for an unpleasant morning.

Bleeding head wounds on the baby that may require stitches before my second cup of coffee make for a really unpleasant morning.

Bleeding head wounds on the baby caused by her goofing around older brothers that may require stitches before my second cup of coffee make for a really really really unpleasant morning.

The only thing keeping them alive is that she isn't crying any more and the wound isn't still gushing. And that Bill isn't within a hundred miles.

Say what?

I could never be a TV commentator. First of all, if I said something really stupid, I would die of embarrassment. Secondly, if I were working with someone who said something really stupid, I would have a difficult time not being obnoxious and sarcastic.

We turned on the TV as various people were making their way to the steps of the Capitol. Laura Bush. Lynne Cheney.

As Jill Biden walked along, the commentator said:

"There is the future wife of the Vice President."

I knew what she meant, of course, but Fritz sure was confused. It was a great lesson in making sure your modifiers are placed properly. Had I been there, I might have responded:

"So, are you saying that Dick Cheney is going to pull some David-Uriah scheme and snatch her for himself.....OR, are you saying that the Vice President-elect is not, in fact, really married yet?"


And then, as the President-elect appeared on the Jumbo-tron and the crowds went wild, the other commentator said:

"Unbelievable! {pause} But we expected nothing less."

Me: "So, Jim, are you saying that you expected the unbelievable? How does one manage to do that?"


And lastly, before switching over to the national, and thankfully comment-free, coverage, the local commentator referred to the huge crowds being displayed on the screen from cameras on the Washington Monument, and said:

"Huge crowds...like I've never seen before...and never will again."

Interesting prediction.

Me: "So, Jane, are you saying that a woman could never draw a crowd this size? Or an Hispanic? Or a Native American? Or even a white guy who got more than 52% of the popular vote? Are you saying that even President Barak Obama, if he is as wonderful as he makes himself out to be and does all these fantastic things for the country, shores up the economy, ends poverty, makes peace with the world, frees us from the tyranny of oil dependence, and gets every blessed citizen free and top-notch health care, even he could not manage to ever, ever draw a bigger crowd than he did today when half the country is grumbling into their coffees or doing the best they can to put on a happy face? OR, are you saying that you, personally, are quitting your job as a commentator and will never more look upon crowds and judge their size?"

And that's when I would be fired from my job.

So, instead, I'll just blog about other people's silly statements, happy that I'm not the one at whom people are laughing.

Happy Federal Holiday

"What's tomorrow, Mom?" Fritz asked me yesterday.

"Martin Luther King Junior Day."

"Oh, so that means nobody has school!"

"You have school."

"But it's a federal holiday!" he complained.

"Your dad has to work, so you have school." Life is unfair.

Yesterday, Bill drove to a remote location to help man a backup-to-the-backup operation center in the event that catastrophe strikes the DC metro area on Tuesday. Terrorists could bomb the area, but have no fear, the National Guard stands ready and waiting. At least he's not one of the thousands of Guardsmen who will be standing on street corners politely pointing out the line for the few Porta-Potties.

I had really wanted to take the older kids to the Inauguration. Bill went four years ago, and this was my turn, by golly. But over the last few months, as the restrictions became public and as the predictions for the crowd size grew, my interest quickly became tepid. Even if Bill did not have to work, the clincher would have been the kids' piano teacher, a young, black woman, saying she was going to stay home and watch it on TV. Well, if she thought the best place to view history-in-the-making was from the warm comfort of her own living room, who was I to drag three kids through freezing temperatures, snow flurries, and crowded streets?

So, even though the area schools are closed today and tomorrow (and, for some reason, next Monday and Tuesday as well), my students will be complaining hard at work. And, through the magic of television, we will take a field trip tomorrow to the Nation's Capitol to see the world's finest example of freedom and democracy: the peaceful installation of a new American President.

Why do I even bother to read these stupid articles?

FOXSexpert: The 6 Most Common Sex Myths

What about that headline sounded appealing to me? I should have known there would be something stupid in there.


Myth: You Can't Get Pregnant if You Aren't Ovulating

She’s not ovulating so she can’t get pregnant — Not!

Fact: While pregnancy is likeliest to occur during the six days leading up to, and including, ovulation, a female can get pregnant at any point in her menstrual cycle. This includes the week of her period.

Even if couples want to take a chance and avoid unprotected sex around day 14 of her menstrual cycle (when she is most fertile), the fact that many women have irregular cycles makes this a dicey decision. Even women who have regular menstrual cycles may not ovulate on the same day each month.


Let me set the record straight: with the exception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, it takes one sperm (from the man) combining with one egg (from the woman) to make a baby. When an egg is released, we call that ovulation. No ovulation = no egg = no baby. Got it?

Try this:

Myth: Predicting ovulation is easy.
Fact: Uh, no. I have a few children to prove it.

Myth: Counting days and assuming ovulation occurs at the same time every cycle will tell you when to avoid intercourse.
Fact: No. NFP is much more sophisticated than that.

Myth: Avoiding intercourse for a "few days" around expected ovulation will prevent pregnancy.
Fact: More like a week. Or two.

Myth: A woman can't get pregnant while menstruating.
Fact: During the first few days of a normal menstrual cycle, this is generally true. The problem is that stress can trigger bleeding, as can hormonal changes and other factors. Ovulation may still occur at these other times.


Moral factors aside, NFP is the healthiest way to avoid pregnancy. But, get the facts, take a class, and read this book.

Myth: Catholics have big families is because they are ignorant.
Fact: Catholics have big families because they are blessed.

Stiff Competition

The world is full of people with the freedom to drop everything and move to Australia for 6 months.

I was one of the many people who helped crash the one server set up to handle the gazillion hits this job application received.

My research shows so far that Australia permits homeschooling, that there is a ferry to the mainland where I could find a Catholic Church, and that I could take the kids along. I have to pay their way, but the $100,000 salary (for 6 months of non-labor) should cover that cost fairly quickly.

The job starts July 1st, and since I expect Bill to be gone during those 6 months, the timing couldn't be more perfect.

Downsides: I would miss autumn. I think I'll recover though (while lying on the beach). Also, the interview process includes some activities that sound vaguely Survivor-esque (lame, oh lame). And, most unfortunately, the interviews begin on May 3rd, and my daughter's First Holy Communion is on May 2nd. That really throws a kink in the works, but Bill assures me that we would simply delay her FHC until I returned and that all my family who are planning on traveling from Alaska and Florida and Pennsylvania would happily change their itineraries at the last minute to accommodate my job prospects.

(I suspect he doesn't think I'll get that far. I don't know why he would think that. They're looking for people who like adventure. There are so many young, beautiful fools willing to eat bugs on national TV or perform other ridiculous acts in the name of entertainment that I think that sort of behavior is passé. How many people any more are bold enough to travel around the world with a half dozen little kids? You want to see knuckle-whitening tension? Keep track of a handful of non-swimmers at the pool or beach. Are any of these hard-bodied twenty-somethings capable of getting through an hour-long trip to the grocery store without losing a child or losing their mind? You want entertainment and adventure, come see how I live!)

Deadlines are February 22nd. I have to submit a 60 second video. I'll let you know if they post it for viewing. Wish me luck.

Job Opportunity

I have found the perfect way to keep busy while Bill is deployed.

I hope they won't mind the kids tagging along. Anybody know what the homeschool laws are in Australia?

Blessed Naptime

Mary is officially a holy terror.

I can't work at my desk. She wants up - not to snuggle, no. She wants to push the buttons on the printer, or remove the ball from my Trackball. Or she bounces, pointing, and saying, "Eh! Eh! Eh!" I'll pick up Safe-Indestructible-or-Unimportant Object #1, and she'll shake her head no. I'll pick up Safe-Indestructible-or-Unimportant Object #2, and she'll shake her head no. I'll repeat, until I finally pick up something unsafe, or breakable or important, and yes, of course, that is the thing she wants.

I can't do the laundry. She scatters clean, folded laundry faster than I can put it in the basket. She puts on the dirty clothes or tries to put them in the dryer. If the dirty clothes are hers, she runs away with them as though I was trying to steal them. And she tries to climb in the dryer.

I can't do the dishes. She empties the dishwasher of clean or dirty dishes. She doesn't care, on the floor they go. She did try to put away some plastic plates in the proper drawer today, but they were dirty. She climbs on the lid and starts picking up the breakable glasses and mugs from the top rack, then throws them down when she's done looking. And she drinks whatever liquid may have collected on the lid of the washer or the bottoms of the cups.

One minute, she'll be playing on the kitchen floor, and the next, I will turn and find she has silently climbed on top of the garbage can and is pulling at the green bananas. I told her no, but, apparently, she thinks that means, "You figure out how."

It's not the climbing that is so bad, it's the premeditation, the cleverness. When Fritz was this age, I had to teach him to move a step stool to where he wanted to go. This child has needed no such instruction. The other day I caught her attempting to go from the stool to a chair in order to get to the CD player.

If she's not playing in the sink, it's because somebody left the toilet lid open and she's splashing around. Today she dunked a brand new roll inside.

She empties drawers and cabinets. She climbs into the pantry and rips open boxes. Our dog has gained five pounds eating cracker crumbs. She prowls through the house just looking for trouble, dragging the spoils of her last scene of pillage with her.

If you're laughing, it's because you aren't cleaning up her messes.

She's on her third outfit today. The first got wet in the bathroom sink. When will these children learn to close the door?

The second got covered in peanut butter. Her trusty stool helped her reach the open jar.

When Fritz took her picture, she laughed, the little imp.

I can't keep up. And her naps are simply not long enough. For me.

Hello, Monday

"That's her third bowl," he complained, knowing such excesses were not permitted.

"Yes, but she threw up the first one," I explained.

Let me know if you find any "crown-of-thorns" embellishments...

In our slightly blue-collar, suburban neighborhood where we own our house in New Jersey, I used to smile in amusement at the seemingly coordinated home decorations which changed seasonally.

On January 1st, the Christmas decorations came down, and up went various "wintery" things. Perhaps a flag with a snowman. Or snowflakes on the door and windows.

On February 1st (or the nearest weekend), these were traded for hearts and cupids.

Then came shamrocks and leprechauns, then Easter bunnies and eggs, then a generic "spring" look - flowers, mainly.

Sometime in May, before Memorial Day, a red, white and blue theme dominated. This would stay up throughout summer and come down right after Labor Day.

For the fall, there would be bales of hay and corn stalks, pumpkins and mums. Many people added cobwebs and ghosts and fake tombstones for Halloween, then replaced these with cartoon turkeys on the windows and a cornucopia flag for Thanksgiving.

And of course, right after Thanksgiving, the Christmas decorations went up.

I did not do this. In fact, I haughtily referred to it as kitsch.

I still do not do this. Not so much because I think it's low-brow any more, as because I'm just not that organized. And really, monthly changes are just a bit over-the-top, don't you think? Isn't a pretty, season-less look classier?

Sure.

Have you seen my blog lately? Classy? Season-less?

No. I'm finding background designing to be addictive. Can't just change the header, nope, have to change the whole thing.

I am kitsch. Oy vey.

Before Photobucket and Flickr...

Jenny had learned that some wedding cakes have a bride and groom on the top.

"Did you have that, Mommy?" she wondered.

"No. I had flowers."

"Oooooo." Both girls thought that sounded lovely. I am continually fascinated by the subject matter that attracts my daughters. These are conversations I would never have had, had I not a few girls. I don't consider myself overly feminine or interested in frilly things, but the boy world seems to revolve around sports, weapons of mass destruction, and inventing games that include an element of risk to life or limb or property. Every now and then, it is pleasant to discuss things that do not involve violence.

I told the girls that we could look at my wedding pictures later to see the cake. When later came around, they jumped for joy. As I headed toward the bookshelf where the wedding album (unopened for several years) is stored, they ran in the opposite direction.

To the computer.

"Girls, allow me to introduce to you the world of high-gloss..."

His Father's Son

It's 1 PM, and I'm insisting that the three year old get dressed. He's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and doing his best to irritate me because he thinks it's funny.

I'm not biting.

"Which pants do you want? Blue? Tan? Army?"

"Blue pants?" he asks with a confused tone. "What blue pants?"

He gets up to investigate. I point to two different pairs of blue pants.

"Oh. Those are navy," he says.

Well. Excuse me.

I Want My MTV (Part Two)

Obama: Let's Postpone Digital TV Switch

And why should we postpone the switch? Oh, because the government has run out of money for those coupons that would help poor people get converter boxes.

Not enough economically challenged Americans would be able to upgrade their systems in time, and then they would have to (gasp!) go without TV.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the [mindless watching of television].

Tom J. was so advanced for his day.

Attn: Military Families

Disney World is offering a great deal this year.

The last time they did something similar was in 2003. The year Bill spent in Kosovo. This time, Bill is supposed to go to Afghanistan.

Wondering if we can squeeze in a PRE-deployment vacation. Or dare I take the kids solo???

Making me Smile

Fritz just gave me a thank you note for one of his Epiphany gifts.

I'm touched.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is not just for November.

Today is the feast day of St. John Neumann. I am thankful for his intercession, and grateful that all of my children have good health.

"Go home to your family and announce to them all that the Lord in his pity has done for you." Mark 5:19

How I spent my Christmas Break

Last night, on the way home from an Epiphany party, one apparently introverted 5 year old complained:

"All we do is party, party, party -"

It is a rough life.

"We're done!" I interrupted her. "No more parties for all of January." (Oh. Except for my husband's promotion tomorrow - minor social event - not really a party, right?) "Now, we'll just do school, school, school."

"Oh..."

That's right. Work hard or play hard. No time to sit around and stare at the walls.

Thank goodness, the eggnog is gone

Three kids wanted the last little bit of eggnog.

"How about I put it in one cup and you share it," I suggested.

"But Katie doesn't like whipped cream and Peter and I do," whined Jenny. She had a point, but I feared that they would be disappointed if they saw their portion in our usual mugs. I think, perhaps, more eggnog would remain clinging to the sides of the mug than would actually make it into their bellies.

So, I gave them virgin eggnog shooters instead.

The things you do for love.

An intimate celebration

Grownups with no children were coming to dinner. I contemplated having our usual family-style meal with all ten of us crammed around the dining room table and the children complaining about what I made and then using their fingers to dip their veggies in ketchup and draw pictures on their plates.

And then I decided to make pizza for the kids and throw them in the basement with a movie.

(The basement is finished and that's where the family room and our only TV is. And the kids seemed to like the idea.)

So the friends came - friends we last saw in the spring of 2002 (three kids ago). The kids shook hands, grabbed their pizza, and went off.

Mary stayed upstairs, but we gave her some pizza and she did her best to look cute and keep herself amused.

Wine was poured. Adult conversations ensued.

The veggies were being lightly sauteed and the crab cakes had but a few more minutes in the skillet when one guest excused herself to use the bathroom.

She found Mary.

In the sink.

With the water running and nearly at the brim.

Brushing her teeth (with her sister's toothbrush).

(Photo taken after I had drained the water, removed her shirt and then thought about the camera. And I'm just noticing that the date on my camera is off.)

Dinner was great - effortlessly fabulous, thanks to this great cookbook (notice that the book only has 5 star reviews).

But the entertainment? That's what they'll remember the most.

New Year's Resolutions

At the beginning of the school year, I volunteered to be the "Cookie Mom" for Katie's and Jenny's Girl Scout troops. {If you live in Northern Virginia and you want cookies, just let me know.} In November, I had to attend a training session to learn how the whole program works. The woman doing the training mentioned that being Cookie Mom was a great résumé builder, especially since you would be responsible for thousands of dollars of cash.

{Tangentially, it was then that my friend, Rachel, turned to me and asked if I kept an up-to-date résumé with a tone that suggested but of course you do, right? If I didn't know Rachel very well, I might have been tempted to lie and pretend that I was all hip and ready to jump into the real world any time a lucrative offer came along. Instead I said something about God knowing what was on my résumé.}

{Also, tangentially, when I relayed the whole "responsible for great sums of money" line to my husband, he seemed to think thousands of dollars of cash was chump change. I had to remind him that despite my high salary and responsible-sounding "Engineer" title, I never handled actual money or even an inventory. He, on the other hand, was personally responsible, as a 30 year old Company Commander, for millions of dollars worth of equipment, including tanks, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to brag about how many millions of dollars his department's operating budget is. But I don't think most people do jobs where they are responsible for seven-or eight- or nine-figure budgets.}

Well, like Bill, I don't really think handling even $5,000 cash is truly a big deal. But I'm also not interested in building my résumé either.

{On another tangent, it reminds me of looking back at my senior year high school yearbook picture which lists all my "accomplishments." I think it says that I was VP of the German Club or some other position. I barely remember that. I know I didn't lie when I filled out the data form, but I also know that I remember the things which truly meant a lot to me, and those which were less important, I have forgotten. Being a Cookie Mom, I predict, will not rank among my cherished memories.}

But the talk of operating budgets and large sums of cash got me to thinking about my own household budget. Thanks to direct deposit and the ability to pay bills electronically, I don't have to handle actual cash most of the time. And although my household operating budget will likely never be remotely near the seven-figure level, it certainly exceeds any amount the girls' troops will generate in cookie sales.

This is actually quite an enormous responsibility, this running of the household finances and the household in general. Although ideally it should be a shared responsibility between me and Bill, who is oh-so-experienced in managing budgets, realistically, this burden falls primarily on the shoulders of anyone who is married to the military.

{When Bill deployed to Kosovo in 2003, the first thing that broke was the oven. "Bill, I broke the oven," I told him. "OK," he said. Such is the level of involvement an Army wife might expect in her away-from-home-for-months-at-a-time husband in the management of household affairs. Next up was the transmission in the mini-van. "It's not worth fixing. Get another one," he decided. Easy for him to say. Have you ever tried to test drive a car, a lone adult, with three little kids in tow, all who require child safety seats? But I was happy enough that I could easily obtain his opinion on whether to repair or replace.}

Sadly, I do not think I have taken this responsibility very seriously. And not just the budget but the whole running of the household, in general. Recently, I had to email someone for her snail mail address, again, having apparently deleted her email from weeks ago with that information. The kids and I went to the dentist just before we moved from Kansas in June, and I've been telling myself for 6 months to get appointments with the new dentist. I generally think of it at eleven o'clock at night.

Why is it that I tolerate a lackadaisical attitude toward home management when I never behaved that way when I worked for pay? When I left my desk at the end of the workday (way back when), it was neat as a pin. Everything was filed or placed neatly in my in bin. There was no dust. My "hot" to-do list was placed squarely in the middle so I knew exactly what I had to begin when I arrived in the morning. Addresses and phone numbers were consistently updated and kept in the same place (this was in the day before everything was done on the computer). I never missed deadlines. I never forgot appointments. I was much more pro-active than reactive.

It's not that I want to treat my family as employees - cordial, yet detached. It's that I want to bring my talents to organize and manage and multi-task and plan and budget both time and money into play when it comes to my home. I don't want to merely say that my grocery budget is $800 a month, I want to be as hyper-vigilant in meeting that budget as if my job depended on it. I want to eat like a king the last week of the month (or the last month of the year) because I was so frugal at the beginning (or take the money saved and splurge on some luxury).

I don't want to dig under the pile on my desk for a phone number. I don't want to climb into my closet looking for that bag of fabric I'm sure I put in there somewhere. I don't want to have to move a pile of junk in order to use my copier (as I'm doing right now).

So, my resolution for this year is to treat my running of the household more as I would treat my running of a business. My monthly resolutions will reflect this goal. This month's focus will be on organizing the office and the school room so that the two areas which cause me the greatest headache and where I spend much of my time will help me succeed in my mission.



And I'm going to run 15 miles a week and lose 10 pounds.

And pray more. And read more.

And hug the kids more.

The usual stuff.

On the 8th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

BOOKS!

We started this tradition years ago. Is there any way better to begin the new year than by curling up with a good book?

New Year's Blessings

Me (last evening): Father always seems amused when he sees me at Mass without children in tow.

Bill: That's because he expects to see me at confession tomorrow.



Happy New Year!

The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you! The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace! Numbers 6:24-26