The Matthew Freeman Project

Today, we attended a ceremony kicking off the national campaign for The Matthew Freeman Project. Matthew Freeman was a Marine Captain who died last year in Afghanistan. Two days before he was killed, he talked to his mom and asked her to collect pens and paper for the kids of that country. Despite his death, she accepted his challenge and began this project.

I am always inspired and amazed by people who heroically turn life's sorrows and trials into hope and meaning for other people.

The mission of The Matthew Freeman Project is: To honor the memory of Marine Captain Matthew C. Freeman by realizing his vision of helping children in Afghanistan and other war-torn countries worldwide, principally where American armed forces are, or have been present, by delivering school supplies, especially pens and paper, to help continue their education and improve literacy; to honor God by promoting communities of promise, prosperity, and peace.

It was a nice ceremony.

The website does not yet have information on how to donate supplies, but the project is aimed toward school children. There is an email address for any military personnel who are deployed and wish to distribute school supplies to children in their area.


I hope your Memorial Day was lovely. Please remember to pray for the souls of all those who died for this country, and also for those who are currently in harm's way.

We needed a long weekend

So far, the weekend has been great.

We cleaned the garage. This is a big deal. We've been here for 4 months now and the garage was the last major mess left. My husband can now park his car in the garage. And I ordered two of these bike stands, because several bikes do not have kick stands, and those that do rarely seem to be upright. Hoping that the kids will properly store their bikes vertically which will help to keep the floor clear.

Bill has been working with the boys on scouting projects. They have enjoyed working together immensely. I'm happy to have an improved, sturdier shelf in the back of my van to aide in carrying 30 bags of groceries home.

Bill also took the older girls out to a lunch date yesterday, and then he ran errands with Mary in the afternoon so she would have her special time with dad. Peter got to play catch one-on-one. And I had a lunch date with him today. Everybody has wanted - and gotten - their piece of the most popular man in the world...well, in our world, at least.

I baked zucchini bread and walnut date bread. I ran errands. I ran 4 miles. I biked 10 miles (2 yesterday and 8 today - ouch).

Bill replaced the left turn blinker on my van. It's been out for 4 months. It's amazing how a simple 5 minute job can make you feel so good when it's finally done.

And we bought a classical guitar today. I didn't really wake up this morning and say, "I think I'll buy a guitar," but somehow that's what I ended up doing. Now I need to learn how to play it.

And I still have tomorrow. Wonder what trouble we'll get into then.

Splashing Safely

Read my pool safety rules here.

Late night

How many ringpops does it take to keep the under 5 crowd amused through double header playoff games? I stopped counting after 3. I only wish that I had realized how effective they were and bought them at the grocery store instead of at the snack bar for $0.50 each.


The boys won. I'm happy for them. I'm happy that the season is over.

Now I need to look into fall ball.

Following my own orders

We didn't get home from baseball until after 9 pm last night. It was 10 before the kids were bedded down and I remembered that I needed to change the dates on some documents for my husband. He would have done it himself, but one was a JPEG file I had created, so it was complicated.

It didn't take long to complete the job. I printed a copy of the changes, emailed him the new versions, and showed him my work. Finally feeling "done," I sat on my chair next to his chair to relax for a bit before bed. It had been a long day with a field trip to an organic farm, ballet class for the girls and then the baseball game.

After a minute, his GI Blackberry buzzed telling him he had a new message. "Go to bed," I growled at the electronic leash. "It's nearly 11 o'clock at night. Why would somebody be up this late sending you emails? Don't these people ever sleep?"

He picked up the thing and looked at it. "That would be your email," he said.

"Oh, go to bed," I growled at the phone again. And then I did.

Flashback

Yesterday I had the opportunity to have lunch with my husband (and no children). I insisted on checking out the DFAC (dining facility aka cafeteria) near him, since I had heard how great it is. And it was great. I mean, it's a cafeteria, but it's a low, flat price for whatever you want, the salad bar had an acceptable number of toppings and dressings (the spinach was fresh), and there were plenty of choices of hot entrees and desserts. I would eat there again.

We selected a bar-height table. There was a TV with CNN on.

Suddenly, eating cafeteria food in that setting brought back memories of sharing meals with my husband, long before he was my husband, at our college's dining facility, at a bar height table, with CNN on the TV.

A decent salad bar and a tab of $8.50 for two people are definitely incentives to frequent the DFAC, but the real reason I'd go back is to imagine, for a half hour, that I am 20 again.

Free Museum Admission this summer

Blue Star Museums:

This summer, more than 600 museums in all 50 states are offering free admission to active duty military personnel and their families from Memorial Day, May 31, 2010, through Labor Day, September 6, 2010 to show their appreciation for those who are serving this nation.

You can click on the map to see what museums near you (or your vacation destination) are free.

Monday Monday

For breakfast, I had a huge bowl of sliced apples (with a side of fruit dip). For lunch I think it will be pineapple and strawberries.

I have tons of leftovers here, so if you're hungry, come on over.

Party seemed to go well. Funny that the BBQ chicken - no recipe - using homemade leftover sauce - is all gone. I didn't even get a piece.

I didn't get any margarita cupcakes either. I will definitely make a double batch next time. My bottle of tequila is half gone.

And our stock of Jack Daniels, Maker's Mark and vodka took a hit. If we have this crowd over again, I think we'll need to restock.

*****

Public schools down here ended last week. My school still has some lingering material. Motivation is sorely lacking this morning, but, nevertheless, off we go.

The Trouble with Email

I received this email from a good friend (note that I have have cut and pasted in its entirety):

Going through the pit of despair (a.k.a. my closet). Surfaced with two pairs of size 14 pants from you. Wondering if you need them right away? One tan and one navy. Will get them in the mail to you soon if so or (my husband) can bring them when he comes to the conference the second week of June.


I was a little confused. We had traded clothing as friends cycling through these child-bearing years are apt to do: pre-baby clothes, maternity clothes, post-baby but not yet pre-baby clothes. Sure, it was nice of her to want to return any post-baby size 14's I may have loaned her, but it certainly wasn't urgent. Did I complain about my weight on our last phone conversation? Probably. Did we discuss mid-cycle guesses about the possibility of conception? Yes, isn't that what women talk about? Or is she just being snarky and reminding me how she is only a few pounds away from her goal weight? Hm. Not likely. I decided to respond thusly (again, I cut and pasted...note that neither of us use salutations or sign our names):

hey. I admit that the size 8s are still just a bit too tight, but I have a LONG way to go to get to 14, and I really didn't think I was heading in that direction. Yet. After the food at my party on Sunday, I may be, but I plan to not eat the rest of the week. So, really, take your time on returning the pants. thanks.


Her reply:

BOYS size 14. Sorry.
LMAO.


Oh. Yes. That is pretty funny.

Tastes like...

Me: I'm going to eat you up! Num num num.

Mary: Am I chicken?

Party Menu

I ran this menu by Bill who said it was fine. I asked him if he could think of anything else, and he said no. He's not much help. What do you all think? Some guests may be bringing dishes, too. I'm estimating about 30 adults and 25 kids.

Main dishes:
Mojo Chicken
BBQ Chicken (using a homemade sauce I have leftover from the ribs I recently made)
Grilled Steak Salad (scroll down for the yummy recipe)
Hot dogs (mostly for the kids)

Side Dishes:
Tomato-Basil-Asparagus Pasta Salad (just add Italian dressing)
Texas Caviar with Tortilla Chips (must find recipe...)
Fruit Tray with Marshmallow Fluff/Cream Cheese Dip
probably some other chips

Desserts:
Brownies (3 different kinds)
Cupcakes
Margarita Cupcakes (I have to try these, just have to)

Drinks:
Beer (of course, but having difficulty finding a good one, of course)
Various Soft Drinks
Tequila Mojitos (recipe to follow soon)
Margarrritas (thanks, Barb)
And I think I'll have everything I need to make the Blueberry Pomengranite Margaritas that Kris left a recipe for in the combox.

And when I went to get the link for the Margarrritas, I saw Barb's Strawberry Margarita Pie. I don't know how I can't make that, too.

Is this enough variety or I am way too heavy on the tequila?

My last year without a teenager

Today is Fritz's 12th birthday. He was born at 3:30 AM after 46 hours labor. Back labor. Prodromal back labor.

He was worth every minute of it. Still is. Most days. I do find myself occasionally telling him to stop acting so twelve.

His favorite food is tacos, and he would have been happy eating them at home or at Taco Bell. Instead, we went on Friday evening to a local Mexican restaurant. Some of us (me) were just not going to eat at Taco Hell. Fritz was very happy with the restaurant. He had...tacos.

For his birthday dessert, he wanted to go to the local ice cream shop for cones. We went after lunch today and took our friends along, too. He had a waffle cone (special treat) with "chocolate fetish" ice cream.

Notice the storm clouds in the background of the photo? A few minutes later, it poured. Then it was sunny. Then it poured. It kept going back and forth like that all day long.

After the ice cream, we went to Target so he could pick out a small present. We got him a new bike a few months ago with the clear understanding that it was an early birthday present. I did, though, promise him a chance to pick something out this month. He selected a flag football set with enough flags for 4 on 4. You might notice 6 boys in that photo above, plus 2 dads and they're all set.

We also spent some time in the shoe department. 5 of my 6 kids needed shoes. Fritz's new sneakers are size 8. I realize that may not be that big for a 12 year old boy, but since he's replacing worn out size 6's that we bought a few months ago, it's a big deal to me.

Guess who did not need new shoes? Guess who had no trouble finding plenty of shoes she wanted? We did manage to return them all to the shelves, but guess who was really disappointed when everybody had a shoe box in the car and there was none for her?

I almost caved and bought the pink sparkly ballet flats, but they didn't have them in my size.

Fritz also received $20 from my parents who were visiting this weekend, and a dollar from my brother, Glenn. I love that my brother assumes that all his nephews and nieces adore him. In most adults, that would be obnoxious, but for a man with Downs Syndrome, it is rather cute.

Fritz chose to not spend his cash on other toys. He's saving his money. I think he wants to buy a canoe.

His favorite color is blue.

He likes art and geography and history. He does not like Latin or English or math.

He loves baseball.

He talks about getting married and having children in a theoretical way. Practically speaking, though, he could live without girls. Except his mom, of course. And Mary. He dotes on Mary.

This is Fritz. He is twelve.

Cute shirts

Somehow THEY got my email address and sent me a link to their Mother Superior and Pray-at-Home Mom shirts. Those are cute. I like the one shown here.

I also like the Trophy Wife, and Seeking: Tall, Dark, Rich, cup of coffee.

Note to husband: I like them, but I don't really want to own them. I generally avoid shirts with "stuff" on them.

One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.

We recently added a few more bottles to our liquor supply. After my friend, Rachel, made me a margarita when I was visiting her in Kansas, I decided to add tequila and triple sec. And then I saw a recipe for margaritas using cointreau. That's three more bottles. Our cabinet is pretty full. I've been experimenting on the best ratio and flavor combination.

I'm trying to figure out if alcohol goes under "groceries" or "recreation" in our budget. Thoughts?

We're having a party next weekend, and I'm flipping through the drink section of my favorite cookbook. Must plan food around beverages, right? There's a recipe for tequila mojitos which looks good, so I will make a batch this weekend to try it out. There's also one for margarita granitas. It calls for "orange liqueur." I asked Bill if that was the cointreau.

"There are three orange liqueurs," he informs me. "We have them all."

Hm. Maybe that's excessive? Actually, there are quite a bit more than three, so maybe having only three is fine.

If you're in the area, come visit. I hope you're thirsty.

And if you happen to have a tequila based summer-time drink recipe you'd care to share, please do.

Add "Brontesaurus" to my wish list

I LOVE this "commercial."

h/t Eric Scheske.

Hope

A closer look at the MRI on my foot by the doctors in podiatry revealed, possibly, a bone chip near the ankle. On Wednesday, they had me come in and do a CT scan, which had them further convinced that there were multiple fragments of bone in my ankle - "like pebbles in your foot," said one doctor.

They wanted to inject a steroid into the area to see if that eliminated the pain. If it did, they reasoned, it meant the bone fragments were responsible for the pain, and surgery to remove them would be the recommended course of action. Getting the steroid into the right spot is a tricky thing and required an x-ray machine and me lying very still. Despite the local anesthetic, the pressure on my foot was rather uncomfortable and I had to focus on my "happy place" and do some deep breathing to get through it. I also kept reminding myself that it wasn't as bad as labor. So far, when they ask me to rank pain on a scale from 0 to 10 with 10 being "the worst pain you've ever felt," natural childbirth is my 10.

Wednesday afternoon, the local anesthetic wore off and the pain was in the 3 -4 range. It doesn't usually hurt that much unless I'm actually running, but I guess it's pretty traumatic to have a needle shoved into your ankle bone. The doctor had told me not to run for a couple of days (Thursday and Friday). Just walking around yesterday, I felt fine, and was eager to get out today to see how things felt.

And things felt great. Five miles (some of it walking) and no pain, no pressure, nothing. I would not normally be excited at the prospect of surgery, but if it solves the problem, I can't wait. Two months ago, I truly despaired that I would ever run again. But now, I have a glimmer of hope.

SWAGGER WAGON

TGIF

School for today will be a field trip to observe marine life, wave and tide progression, and the effects of sunlight on hair and skin. In other words, we're going to Hilton Head.


Last weekend, Bill's work took him away from us to Colorado Springs and the Olympic Village where he met many paralympians. If you ever want to feel like a whiny slacker (oh, my foot hurts, I can't go running...), spend a few days listening to the stories of these courageous people who overcome significant disabilities to compete in events I couldn't master even with all my limbs and senses intact.

Among others, he met these inspirational, young men from Cleveland, Ohio.

High school teammates carry on


A few years ago, Bill traveled to Germany with his boss to visit wounded soldiers. He had a hangnail, which we all know can be painful and annoying. But he knew how ridiculous it was to be bothered by something like that when he was surrounded by people who had lost limbs or half their brains. Hopefully that video will put some perspective on whatever ails you right now.

Have a great weekend.

Little Ears, Big Mouths

Bill met me at the hospital where I was to have a needle stuck in my foot. Rather unpleasant experience. He took the kids to get haircuts (the boys) and to buy Mother's Day presents.

I met him when I was done and we argued discussed the parking over by his office where I had to go for a meeting. His parking lot is tight and there are few free spaces. And my van is big. He wanted me to just pull up behind his car. I whined about how small his lot was, and suggested he drive the van and I would drive his car.

He agreed, although he teased me mercilessly. I believe the term he used was "pathetic." You see how he loves me?

An hour later, after the meeting, we loaded the kids up and I pulled away. Peter pipes up from the middle row. "Mommy, why were you uncomfortable parking Moby?"

Just when you think their minds are like sieves, they prove how closely they really do listen.

Free Speech is SUPPOSED to make the Government uncomfortable

Spend about 10 minutes reading the news and you'll find a growing and ominous grumbling about those "radical" Tea Party types. I find it very alarming when the mayor of NYC vocalizes the suspicion that the person responsible for the car bomb in the city was likely "somebody with a political agenda that doesn't like the health care bill." Most reasonable Americans might jump to the conclusion that radical Islamists were involved, and, once again, such suspicions would have been correct.

Instead, there seems to be a concerted effort to demonize those who think that the State is getting a bit too big. If Big Brother says it often enough, does that make it true? Americans should be worried when riot police are called out when people peacefully assemble. I don't have a problem with riot police being placed on alert, or even being brought to the area. But to place them as if ready to battle docile, unarmed citizens singing patriotic songs calmly?

Even more shocking is when an Army officer edits an emergency response exercise to include TEA PARTY protesters as potentially violent. It's bad enough when the President criticizes those who speak out against the government by saying "it undermines democratic deliberation" and that "it coarsens our culture, and at its worst, it can send signals to the most extreme elements of our society that perhaps violence is a justifiable response." I would expect him to get his panties all in a bunch over being called a socialist. But when you start to see Army officers buying into the notion that anyone who speaks out against the government is a threat to democracy, we are in big trouble.

In six months, the entire House, a third of the Senate, and 36 governors are up for election. I think we are beyond squabbling about tax rates and gays in the military. We have some serious constitutional issues at stake. I pray we resolve these concerns, specifically the threat to our Bill of Rights, in a peaceful manner.

Growing pains

Looking back on my childhood, I can remember many occasions where I learned some lessons about life, and what it means to be an adult. Some of these lessons were good. But I think the ones that are burned into my memory the most are the bad lessons. The ones that hurt.


That's the way it is, right?


Today, I think, I witnessed my oldest son learning one of those lessons. Maybe he'll forget about it. But more than likely, this will be something he keeps in his mind. I only hope it falls into the "what not to do" category instead of the "this is how grownups treat kids" mentality.


When I signed the kids up for baseball, I did it online. I found that very convenient. I do not know, had I signed them up in person, if we would have been given a packet of guidelines or not. I do know that we encountered some rules and practices that we had never done before. For example, all boys bring their own helmets. All helmets must have the face protector too.


OK. Fine.


A few weeks ago, one of the umps made Fritz give him his watch. I guess the boys aren't allowed to wear watches during the games. Fritz has made sure to keep his watch in the car from then on. At the end of that inning, Billy reminded Fritz about the watch and the ump gave it back.


Last week, Fritz's coach noticed his scapular. It is a unique scapular-and-rosary-combination made from a molded brown plastic. Unique, but cheap. He got it years ago when we lived in Kansas. It is blessed and he was enrolled at the time in the brown scapular. He wore it for a while, then stopped, but then started wearing it again months and months ago.


Apparently, it's not just watches but all jewelry that is forbidden (risk of breakage). So, the coach, rightly, I suppose, took the scapular. They both forgot about it, and Fritz went home without it. I don't know when exactly Fritz remembered it, but I do know that he came home from practice on Sunday evening upset that the coach still had it. I think he was hoping the coach would have remembered it and returned it without prompting.


At the conclusion of the game today, knowing that sometimes we adults have other things on our minds and don't always remember the contraband necklace that we pocketed a week ago, I told Fritz to ask his coach for his scapular. The rest of us went on ahead to the van and loaded up. When Fritz joined us a minute later, he looked crushed.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"He said he didn't take my necklace," the poor boy replied.

As an adult, I know that the man simply forgot all about it. As a mother, though, I know how Fritz sees it: the coach stole his scapular and lied about it. It is one thing to hear about other people who do wrong things, and we did discuss this situation. It is quite another to be the victim of an injustice. This is the age where children begin to learn that adults make mistakes, they aren't perfect, they fail you. It is, unfortunately, all part of growing up.

Tough lessons.

Just when you think they are growing up

Peter was the last one to brush his teeth. I checked on him after a few minutes expecting him to be done. Instead of brushing, he was fastidiously cleaning his siblings' toothpaste droppings off the counter and the sink. Once the job was completed, he then retrieved his toothbrush and took care of his bedtime hygiene ritual.

Finally, I thought, one kid gets it. One kid sees how disgusting it is to find toothpaste on the counter. One kid cleans the mess instead of leaving it to others. Hooray. My Mama's Pride was pleased.

He scurried off to bed, and I stopped in to turn off the light (another thing that drives me nuts about my kids - leaving lights on). I looked down expecting to see a sparkling sink. Wrong.

I guess it's one thing to approach a dirty sink, and quite another to walk away from one. He left his own trail of blue gel for the next person to see.