Let the wild rumpus start!

The last time my parents and their five children gathered was Christmas of 1997. Since then, they've added two children (via marriage) and gone from one grandchild to nine.

On Saturday, Katie makes her First Holy Communion. Such an event was a perfect excuse to lure my parents (and my brother, Glenn) here from Florida, and that, combined with the occasion of their 40th wedding anniversary, was a good reason for my other siblings to travel from their far corners of the world (Ohio, California and Alaska).

One sister arrived on Tuesday. Last night, I picked up my other sister and her family at the airport. My parents called last night to report their progress, and they are due to arrive this afternoon. The last tendril of the family vine expects to leave Ohio this afternoon just as soon as work is over.

I'm so happy. We're sure to have mischief of one kind or another.

I do have 6 or 7 (depending on the mood of the niece in Ohio) additional people sleeping at my home, which makes things crazier than normal. And the weather isn't quite the way I'd like it to be (cold and rainy instead of warm and sunny). And I'm not sure if the water heater will accommodate the extra showers and loads of laundry. But it's OK. It's temporary.

At some point, everyone will sail back (over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day) to their own homes. And it may be quite some time before we are together again.

What NOT to do

To avoid the swine flu, don't do this:



My MIL sent this, and it made me laugh out loud.




So, it's cold and rainy here (our brief summer weather is but a memory). I'm wondering when they're going to cancel baseball. Will they give me a one hour warning? Ten minutes? Or will I drive all the way down before I find out?

Quick Pics

No time this morning. Did I mention my entire family is coming to visit this week? They begin arriving tomorrow!!

Saturday: Met Danielle Bean! Here's my proof.

She gave a nice talk on avoiding burnout. Isn't that something we all need to hear right about this time of year? I tried hard to not act like these women. I managed OK. I think I fooled her into thinking I was a calm person.

I only saw one other blogger, and she was from NY. Maybe they don't blog in New Jersey?

Sunday: Here is how I know that Lent is over at my home:

Yesterday he exchanged his spent quarter keg for a 1/6 keg of something else. He's not sure he'll finish it before he goes. He's planning on taking a month off work. I don't think he'll have any trouble.

This morning (and most mornings): Man vs. Squirrel

When he first started this, I was a bit upset. But he's proven to me, time and again, that the BBs don't kill the squirrels. It only makes them stand at a distance and chatter for a few hours before they come back for more bird food.

Have a great day!

Just Blond Enough

My husband is a pretty handy man. Any stereotypically "manly" job is well within his purview. If it involves hammers, screws, power tools, dirt, an element of danger, guttural noises, chest-thumping, blood, sweat or tears (note the blood part - it's important later in the story), and multiple trips to Home Depot, I can count on him to attempt, and usually succeed, with the mission. Yes, years later, he will not let me forget how hard it was to tile the built-in shelves I had him make in the bathtub surround, but he did it, and he did it well.

I've known lots of women who claim that their husbands are not handy. I've always privately considered that they just didn't care to try. And that their wives let them get away with it.

This is, though, a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

If a large, hairy spider were to greet me when I opened the shower door, I would squeal and run, quaking, to my brave soldier to defend and kill. If he were not home, as is often the case, I would calmly get a shoe and squash the bugger. I am only as brave as I need to be.

When it comes to stereotypical "women's work," my husband has managed to successfully fail at such chores. He could write a book: The Blond Man's Guide to Avoiding Laundry and Other Household Drudgeries. Obviously, shrinking your wife's cashmere sweater or turning all the whites pink, if done often enough with a doe-eyed "oopsie!" as your response, will likely result in your wife deciding you are too incompetent to be trusted with such tasks. It took me a few years to catch on to this trick.

If your highly intelligent husband takes three hours to prepare a "fast and easy" meal, if the sauce is burnt but the noodles are crunchy, if he uses every single pot in the cabinet and leaves a huge mess in the kitchen for you to clean, you may be tempted to give up on the idea of having him help out with meals on the night you have your women's prayer group. Consider that it might just be a ploy.

If the baby's diapers are on backwards or so loose that they leak, if the kids aren't reminded to brush their teeth or they go to bed with dirty faces, if the question, "Where is the baby?" is met with a blank stare or, worse, "The 4 year old is watching her," you might think the angst isn't worth the break. That might be what he's trying to make you think.

As I said, though, I'm on to him. I'll do the laundry, I'll do the cooking. I'll clean. But sometimes, like yesterday, I just have to get away. And that's when a dad has to be a dad. I know that he would never do anything to harm or endanger the children, so I have to let go of my standards of healthy eating, cleanliness and uses of time. If the kids watch TV all day long because their father lets them, so be it. If they eat candy, drink from the dog's water bowl, and go to bed with dirty feet, it won't kill them.

If all else fails, goes the excerpt from Bill's future book, and the wife still trusts you with child-care, you may have to take extreme measures. For example, while the children are playing, decide it's time to tackle those heavy vines climbing on and destroying the trees in your yard. Get to work with a sharp knife, cutting and pulling and wrestling them off the trees. At some point, "accidentally" slash open your leg badly enough to require an emergency room visit for cleaning and dressing the wound, a tetanus shot, and a prescription for antibiotics. Be sure the friendly neighbors are home so you aren't stuck dragging all the kids with you to the hospital. I guarantee that the wife will think twice before planning a non-local day trip or a weekend away from the kids without you.

Note: this blog post is husband-approved, although, in his defense, he said he made macaroni and cheese for lunch yesterday and grilled burgers (home-made by him) for dinner. I have also taken liberites and used hyperbole in describing things he might have done to get out of housework. I still think he should write a book, but it would be tongue-in-cheek. I think he's a great husband and father and would never risk him denying me a day off by seriously criticizing his caretaking.

Katie keeps me laughing

"An Oreo!" exclaimed Katie, pointing to the bird feeders.

No, not quite.


*******

"What does FBI stand for?" she queried.

And then she started to guess: "Failure...?"

Let them eat eggs

I don't normally buy sugary cereals for my kids. That stuff is so unhealthy. Instead I encourage them to eat homemade waffles and pancakes...

...drenched in cheap "syrup" whose #1 ingredient is corn syrup, followed by high fructose corn syrup...

...and generously topped with spoonfuls of powdered sugar...

...and, if they are lucky, on top of that, they may get some whipped cream straight from the aerosol can...

(my kids are all set to work at IHOP).


But I promised them, since I had coupons, and it was Easter, I would let them each pick out a box of cereal at the store.

That stuff is expensive, especially considering I could have bought 2-1/2 boxes of Bisquick for the same price...

...and fed them pancakes every day for a month...

...and this stuff will last a week...

(if I'm lucky).


Chocolate Lucky Charms (blech). Who thinks of these things? I would rather eat Dove bars with my morning cuppa. I seriously think it would be healthier.

Teacher Inservice Day

I told Bill I needed four days.

Two days at home in June without kids to go through the syllabi for next year, make my weekly plans, and physically organize the schoolroom. I can't effectively do that while changing diapers, breaking up squabbles, and cutting PB&J sandwiches into crustless circles.

Two days to mentally prepare for next year by attending homeschool conferences. In June, I'll go to the IHM Conference, which is local to me. I'm waiting for the schedule to come out so I can plan which day I'll go.

This Saturday, I'm heading up to Jersey for the CHAPLET Homeschool Conference. I hope to see some old friends there, and maybe meet some new ones.

Anybody else heading to either of these conferences?

She'd be photogenic if she'd sit still

Trying to get a nice Easter picture, but the baby would have none of it.

Same dresses as last year - I'm glad I asked AngoraKnitter to make them big.

Why does the best pose of the baby have to be the blurry one?

Yes! We have her sitting! And blinking!

I was trying to get a picture of her wearing this jacket. I may have worn it when I was little. I know my younger sisters wore it.

The jacket is filthy, and the baby is doing her best to ignore me. And thwart me.

Nice, clear shot. Smiling baby. Jacket falling off. I quit.

Peter wearing Daddy's hat. At least he loves to be photographed.

Because linking is easier than writing today

How to be Awesomely Holy - Part One


There are many people you are going to meet every single day who will be intimidated by you even uttering the phrase, “I want nothing more in life than to be a saint, and that means I have to do everything in my power to make you a saint as well.”

People don’t like that and they certainly are not going to sit back and let you just try to be a saint. They are not going to just say no, they are going to actively try to bring you down to their level. It is much easier to bring someone down to your sin rather than try to bring yourself up to imitate their resolve. This is why any time you try to work harder than anyone, lose weight, pray more, or improve your life, you will lose friends.

People hate when others are more successful then they are and they will try to stop them.


How to be Awesomely Holy - Part Two


I don’t know how else to say this other than to state the fact that the Communion of Saints is made up of people, so learn to like them now. That means you have to give more than you take. That means you have to make people your priority and you have to love them where they are. Stop trying to change everyone around you and just be holy and love them. If they ask for your advice, give it; otherwise, lead with your example.

Humor

Matthew's slang terms are funny. Be sure to read the Rosy Gardener's additions in the combox.

Definitely a girl

Stereotypes exist because people act stereotypically.

I got Mary dressed this morning in a pretty blue dress she had never seen before. "Ooooo," she said. "Yes, pretty," I agreed. Then I said, "Let's get your shoes."

Mary didn't want her shoes, apparently bored with the same old same old. She walked off to play with the toy kitchen. "Look," I said. She blatantly ignored me and continued to occupy herself with plastic vegetables. "Mary, look," I insisted. These weren't her usual shoes. These were new sandals, something she had never seen. Finally, I waved them in front of her face.

"Ooooo," she said and immediately lifted her feet for a try-on. "How nice," her sisters cooed. Once on, she bent over admiring them.

"Let's go show, Daddy," I suggested. She liked that idea, grasped my finger and off we toddled. First she saw Fritz and lifted her feet for him, then she showed Daddy her pretty new shoes. She babbled excitedly and continued to look at her feet as though getting new shoes were the greatest joy on earth.

Because, for a girl, sometimes, it is.

No "I" in TEAM

Fritz wants to pitch. He'd probably be pretty good, too. He did well last year as pitcher.

Fritz is not on the pitching roster.

Fritz is the best fielder on the team. I'm not being prideful. He has the advantage of having a birthday just a few weeks past the age deadline. He is a really old ten year old and one of the oldest kids on the team. This is his fourth year playing baseball. He knows how to play the game.

Fritz is the third baseman.

Today, they played 4 innings before time was up. That's 12 outs. Six were strikeouts and six were not. Of the six outs made by somebody other than the pitcher, three were by Fritz and he only played 3 of the 4 innings.

The coach is a wise man putting him at third. Overjoyed might be a good word to describe how he felt about Fritz's performance today. Fritz, he said (rather giddily), if you are in the field, you will be at third, always.

Unless I'm pitching, he says to me, with hope.

Son, you aren't going to be doing much pitching, I told him. I had my own story about wanting to do one thing, but having my talents needed elsewhere. I can sympathize.

But that's the thing about team efforts. It doesn't matter what I want. The point of team sports is (should be) learning that the self is sacrificed for the benefit of the team.

Good lessons.

Good article on Susan Boyle

The beauty that matters is always on the inside

But it is often evidence of a life lived selflessly; of a person so focused on the needs of another that they have lost sight of themselves. Is that a cause for derision or a reason for congratulation? Would her time have been better spent slimming and exercising, plucking and waxing, bleaching and botoxing? Would that have made her voice any sweeter?

{snip}

Susan is a reminder that it's time we all looked a little deeper. She has lived an obscure but important life. She has been a companionable and caring daughter. It's people like her who are the unseen glue in society; the ones who day in and day out put themselves last. They make this country civilised and they deserve acknowledgement and respect.

h/t Praying for Grace

Easter Sacrifices

"They" say that Lent isn't about losing weight. I agree.

However, if you are the sort of person who loves to eat just for the love of eating (as I do), and you are guilty of such eating perhaps too often (as I am), and you focus many of your Lenten sacrifices around curtailing such behavior (as I did), then it is likely that you will lose weight during Lent (as I did).

And that is fine.

However, now that Easter is here, such people (like me) may need to be reminded that the Easter feast is not intended to be 50 days of gluttony, either. At some point (like right now), the excessive consumption of chocolate needs to stop. Did I not just spend 40 days learning that I do not need butter to be happy?

A few weeks ago, my pastor suggested that every meal every day is an opportunity for some small sacrifice: skipping sugar in the coffee, for example. This man is full of great ideas. He did not say that we are required to abstain from sacrifices during the Easter Octave (as many people seem to be insisting in this post last year, so don't even bother leaving comments to such effect in the combox - I won't listen to you).

Just like during Lent, sacrifices involving food during other times of the year are not about weight loss or weight control. They are ways to remind ourselves that food will not make us happy if our souls are unhappy. They help us exercise detachment of earthly things.

And I, for one, need constant practice in such detachment.

Two months, and counting

The boys' opening day of baseball season is this Saturday. Their practice schedule hasn't been too bad - mainly thanks to the weather which has drowned out most of the attempts of the coach to gather. And half the practices were during Holy Week, so they would have missed them anyway (the coach actually suggested batting practice for Sunday the 12th until I pointed out it was Easter Sunday).

But as baseball is gearing up, other activities are, mercifully, winding down. Three, count them, three more CCD classes. Billy has only four more den meetings for Cub Scouts. The girls have Girl Scouts today, and then only two more. Nine more weeks of piano and ballet before their final performances - but at least we can count that on two hands.

It's not just the flowering trees and the blooming daffodils and the backyard mud patch sprouting grass and the empty tomb that are putting me in a good mood. It's the sense of impending freedom. Where my highest priority is boiling noodles so I can make a pasta salad to take to the pool for dinner, and my to-do list consists of wishes, not mandates.

Nobody loves summer break more than a teacher.

Home Decorator Confession

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

It has been three months since the last major holiday.

In that time, I have not really done a good job of putting away the decorations. I did mange to (mostly) get them out of the living areas. I still occasionally find an M&M guy with a red stocking hat in the basket of baby toys. And it was only last week that I insisted the string of lights around the boys' bedroom ceiling must come down and finally collected the extra nativity set from off the piano. Yes, a creche in April on my piano.

But worst of all has been the garage/dumping ground. Instead of wrapping them in protective paper and snuggling them in for a long summer's nap, my army of nutcrackers has been forced to do sentry duty on a spare table. Plastic kids' cups with gingerbread men on them, miscellaneous ornaments in various stages of wholeness, and the stray felt reindeer candy cane cover were piled nearby.

A bag of lights - do they work or not? A Christmas music CD - where is the cover? This package of 12 ornaments has only 10 - I know we started out in December with a full collection.


I firmly resolve, with your help, to do penance (clean the garage), to sin no more (I swear I will do better next year), and to avoid the near occasion of sin (except for the Easter baskets, I'm not getting out any other decorations).

Have mercy on me, Lord.

Alleluia! He is Risen.

Happy Easter!

Random thoughts:

Regular coffee, heavy on the latte, never tasted so good.

Neighbors who gear their annual Easter egg hunt and party around my Mass schedule are wonderful.

Chocolate: the breakfast of champions and hyper kids.

I think I need to get to work on a new blog header. Totally forgot about that.

I'm eating a decadent breakfast. I'm too lazy to do links and recipes now. Maybe later this week. Plenty of Easter to enjoy - 50 days!

Splurged on flowers and bushes to transform a bare part of my yard to beauty (even though my husband has to be convinced that spending money on someone else's property is worthwhile). Planned to get them in the ground yesterday, but it poured until late afternoon. Can't wait until tomorrow to get my hands dirty.

I really missed comments and love notes in my email. Happy to leave my hermetic blogging life.

Happy it is Easter. Lent was good. Easter is better.

Stupidity and Ignorance Reign at Brown

Brown University Kills 'Columbus Day' for 'Fall Weekend'

The faculty of the Ivy League university voted at a meeting Tuesday to establish a new academic and administrative holiday in October called "Fall Weekend" that coincides with Columbus Day, but that doesn't bear the name of the explorer.

Hundreds of Brown students had asked the Providence, R.I. school to stop observing Columbus Day, saying Christopher Columbus's violent treatment of Native Americans he encountered was inconsistent with Brown's values.

"I'm very pleased," Reiko Koyama, a sophomore who led the effort, told the student newspaper, the Brown Daily Herald. "It's been a long time coming."


Just in case you too have been duped into thinking Christopher Columbus enslaved and tortured peaceable Native Americans, please allow me to set the record straight: Christopher Columbus was a poor administrator, a bad leader, and a terrible PR man. But he did not himself abuse Native Americans nor did he encourage, approve or tolerate the abusive behavior on the part of the men who sailed his ships and settled somewhat in the new lands. His second or third voyage, in fact, was manned by convicts who were granted release from prison if they went, since he could not muster a crew willing to go. Hello? Send murders to America and then be surprised when they...murder?

So, instead of admiring a man who refused to give up, who remained persistent in following his dreams, who did, in fact, find a whole new world that nobody had any idea existed before (yes, he was wrong in that it wasn't India, but 500 years later we have proven to be a much better discovery than India, doncha think?). Instead of that, we'll blame him for the crimes of others and completely negate any of the good that he did do.

History, especially history based on gossip and lies and spin, is a harsh judge. Learn the truth, dear, wise fools of Brown, and may you be spared similar treatment at the end of your time.

Oh, and to what purpose does it serve to change the name of a holiday and still take the holiday? If you really want to protest the day off, go to class on Columbus Day.

New Month's Resolution for April

Yes, I know it's the fifth of the month, and I never even did one for March (I had one in my head, I just never posted it), but I am finally getting around to this.

Unless you have experienced it yourself, it is impossible to convey the stress that is involved in the few months before a soldier expects to deploy. Add to it the uncertainty of exactly when (a date and a time) that the soldier will physically depart and also the sudden learning of obligations (trainings) that he will have to do beforehand (away from home), and his time left begins to seem very very short.

Heck, it is very short.

Oh, and then there is this psychological thing called detachment. It's an emotional defense that has human beings trying to cope with an impending loss by acting as though the loss has already occurred. It stinks.

Anyway, chief among my anxieties is the thought that Bill won't be around to do any little projects that come up, so, unfortunately for him, I'm listing "things that must be done before July" like installing a clothesline and organizing the garage. And since I want to try to enjoy the last few weeks he's here by doing fun stuff like Busch Gardens (still allowing service members and families in for free) and Colonial Williamsburg, it's really "things that must be done before June." And since in May, we have Katie's First Holy Communion and my entire family coming in as well to simultaneously celebrate my parent's 40th wedding anniversary, my sister and her family staying for another week having flown all the way from Alaska, and then Bill leaving directly after that for a week of training, it's really "things that must be done before May."

So, April will be a busy month with lots of organizing and cleaning. My hopes are to do the closets in the master bedroom, the storage area (with a weight bench that needs to be put together - we've been here for 9 months now) and the garage which are all areas where I need Bill's help. I don't know if we'll be able to do it all, but I hope so.

DO the red, SAY the black

Most Fridays this Lent, we've gone down to the military chapel on post for a soup dinner and stations of the cross. Last night, we had friends over for dinner (corn chowder and fish sticks - high class gourmet) and then the dads did baby duty while the moms took the older children to church for a plenary indulgence triple: confession, stations, and Mass.

The Friday evening Mass at my church is a Novus Ordo Latin Mass. This was my first experience with any Latin Mass, but because it was Novus Ordo, I wasn't completely lost. The Liturgy of the Word was entirely in English, and the order of the Mass was familiar. I've been studying Latin for a few years with my students, so I know some stuff (Pater Noster, Sanctus).

Nonetheless, I spent a good deal of time flipping around the missal trying to keep up. And my stuttering, struggling Latin was no match for the ladies to my right who rattled off prayers with fluent ease. I'm still completely intimidated by the thought of a TLM, but last night wasn't too bad. I can project that after a handful of times, it would get to be much easier.

And my sympathies go out to any converts or visitors to the Mass who can't make heads or tails of the English missal. Despite being a visual person, I think it might have been better if I had just closed the missal and prayerfully followed along instead of trying to vocally keep up.

Something I needed to read

"The hearts of human beings," says Nicholas Cabasilas, "were made great enough to contain God himself." If they do not contan the Uncreated they will turn their desire toward created objects, and then only nothingness can spring forth, for every person is a gaping space waiting to be filled with God.

Oliver Clément (from Magnificat's Meditation of the Day)

Follow up

Although we made it to the zoo on Wednesday, we did not make it to the cherry blossoms. Peter woke up in the middle of the night screaming that his "knee" hurt. The following morning, he woke up again with the same complaint, except when questioned he said "ear" not "knee." I was able to get him an appointment at 2 pm, and sure enough he had a double ear infection.

Maybe we'll try for Sunday via the metro.


Last week, I took Billy to the pediatric endocrinologist at Walter Reed. This is a follow up from nearly two years ago. Same doctor. At the beginning of the appointment, she said, "So, you're concerned about his growth?" I said, "No, actually, I'm not." And then she remembered me.

I had taken Billy last month for a routine sports physical, and the pediatrician had ordered a follow up on blood work and a bone scan. This was great, because the endocrinologist had all that info already. Everything looked fine (the pediatrician had told me he would only call if there was a problem). Interestingly, the bone scan indicated that Billy's bone growth was of that of a 6 year old. That, actually, is a great thing.

As a 9 year old, he is under the 5th percentile for height. They would predict that he would be a very short man.

As a 6 year old, he is in the 95th percentile of height. They would predict that he would be a very tall man.

Her conclusion? He might end up 5' tall...or he might end up well over 6' tall. In reality, he will likely be average height just like his dad, which is what we had been saying all along.

She said he is likely just a "late bloomer" and said that unless any other dramatic changes in his growth occur (he fails to grow at the expected pre-puberty average rate) she would not need to see him again unless he failed to reach puberty by the "late bloomer" latest of 14 years. Can you say woohoo?


When this kid towers over me, I will laugh and laugh.