Daughter Of Mary

How My Dad Taught Me to Make a Memory

2012-01-25T20:04:00.004-05:00

This blog is often my way of recording the things my children say or do. I want to remember everything, but I know as time passes I will forget so much. I have already forgotten so much, it makes me sad. The kids will say remember the time, or ask me a question about a time they can't recall, and I have no idea what they are talking about. But those special moments? The ones you want to preserve forever, but aren't moments when you are waiting with a camera in hand? My dad taught me how to keep those.

One time, when I was a very little girl, my dad and I were walking on the beach. I can't remember exactly what trip we were on, but to the best of my recollection it was the time we went to the Jersey shore with our Foster cousins. I was really small, and he was holding my hand. He had been helping me jump in the waves, and I was having the best time. I looked up at him and told him I was having the most fun and I wanted to stay there forever. My dad sat down in the sand, and pulled me up on his lap and said, "Do you know how to keep a memory forever? You look all around you, and then close your eyes and put that picture in your memory. Make sure you get the whole picture. Then remember how you feel right that minute. That way you are keeping the picture of that moment forever." He told me that he did that all the time because he didn't want to forget anything.

Even as such a little girl I knew this was important advice. I memorized what he said, and right in that moment, I made a picture of that memory. I can still feel the way I felt in his arms, all safe and happy. I remember the ocean. I also clearly recall thinking that I should remember what it felt like when he picked me up, because probably soon I would be too big for him to pick up anymore, and I really liked it when he picked me up. From that day on, I have tried hard to create those memory pictures. I look around, savor the moment, feel everything that moment has to offer, and I try my hardest to memorize every detail. Some of the memories I have stored away are so, so precious to me. The first time I danced with my husband. The first moment I realized I was going to have a baby, each time. The moment I saw each of their little faces. The times when they were so sick and needed me. Those first smiles when you really fall in love with your baby.

I'll never forget the day I became an aunt. It was such a special day. I was so, so thrilled. I can remember holding my tiny niece in my arms, her poor mama all pale and exhausted, too tired to know or care who had invaded her hospital room. I remember how she smelled, and exactly what she looked like. I can remember the look on my brother's face.

My dad probably doesn't even remember that conversation on a beach so many years ago. Our family has been blessed with many, many delicious moments, and I will always be grateful that my dad taught me how to make a memory I could keep forever in my heart. It's my most invaluable skill.

What I Want For All the Mommas

2012-01-23T22:19:00.002-05:00

Today was a weird day. It was the March For Life in Washington DC. The March remembers the 1973 Roe vs. Wade Supreme Court decision that effectively made abortion legal. My 14 year old daughter was at the March. She was our family representative this year. So, I spent the day watching the March, tweeting and texting her, and trying to get the media to pay attention, or forgoing the media altogether, get the word out via social media.

Interspersed with all of this was my usual day of schooling and mothering. I was privileged to spend most of the day with my five sons, aged 13 all the way down to 2. Here are a couple of the conversations I had with them today:

Benny, age 4: "Momma, Does God laughs because you and I are in true love and He is happy about all us kids?"
Yes, my Benny, I believe He does...

Later, when we were doing our teeth-stories-prayers-bedtime snuggling Benny says; "Mom, are you snuggling my brain?"
"I sure am. I love your brain." says I.
"Well, that's horrible! Stop it! I am trying to focus!" (he was telling me stories).
"Mom, know what I am gonna do when I grow up? I am going to be a race car driver and win lots of money, and buy a sucker!" I love a boy who knows the value of a dollar.

All this time, Yebbi was rolling all over us, intermittently barking and counting "one, two, fee, four!" or yelling "ninjago!" Ah Yeb, when will you learn to talk? Or at least do more than bark?

Luke, age 6, was at his lego table, building away. He brought one of his hero factory/ninjago creations over to me and says, "Mom, this is a girl. Know how you can tell?" he says to me with a sly, conspiritorial look on his face. "No, how?" I feel compelled to ask, even though I am a little afraid of the answer - this boy likes women, ya'll, and he's observant. Or so I thought: Luke grins and points to the two round, but up and down shapes on the front of the figure. "Bra!" he whispers to me so the babies don't hear him. A minute later he is back with a boy hero factory/ninjago creation, and the two figures are held together in what looks like a pretty risque embrace. Luke says to me, again in that conspiritorial whisper, "Look Mom, they're kissing. Isn't that romantic?" He had me laughing as I remembered days of Barbie and Ken, and all the "romantic" situations we had imagined them in, however his tone was actually trying to find out whether his little lego creations were being romantic. He was on a fact finding mission! My beautiful, sweet, ding dong, woman loving boy. He is going to get his heart broken plenty, that is for sure.

This day had it's challenges, not the least of them the lack of coverage of the March by the media. One of the goals of Catholic social media this weekend was to try and get people to understand why the abortion issue is so important. This, these silly moments in my day, the thrill of realizing how funny, sweet, loving, and hilarious my children are...the absolute joy that zings through my body when they say something funny, or declare that we are in "true love", or even step on my head when I am trying to listen to brother's stories...this. This is what I want for every momma. This is simple, basic mothering. It doesn't cost a thing. This loss of it, though. The loss of these moments is something you can never get back if you throw it all away. No one's life is perfect, but every life is worth living. Every little moment of that little life is a treasure. Abortion robs a mother, a child, a father, a family of all of these little moments. It can even make the moments that come after so bittersweet. Please, if you are considering abortion, or know someone who is, email me, or someone else, or contact a local pregnancy center for help. There are all kinds of choices. The best choices will never rob you of the joy of your child.

What Do You Mean By "Choice"?

2012-01-22T01:47:00.000-05:00

I always cringe a little when I hear the word "choice". I'm sure you can guess why. It's been hijacked by the pro-abortion crowd. They toss it around like so much laundry, thinking it will change or somehow make okay what they are really talking about. They talk about a woman's right to "choose". Choose what? Life for their child, and the joy in knowing you brought a life into the world and gave him or her the best shot you could, whether by parenting the child, or finding parents. Or, choosing to kill the baby, and living forever with the knowledge that you are responsible for your child's death. That you made the choice to end your baby's life.

We live in a country where choices are abundant. Options are overflowing. We are blessed beyond any other nation on Earth. So, why does the word "choice" rankle my nerves so much? It's because I know that women here have so very, very many choices. There are so many options for an unexpected pregnancy. Killing the baby shouldn't be an option. There are people who will help the mother raise her child, there are people who will adopt the baby, the mother has resources. She need only call the closest Crisis Pregnancy Support Center to find all the answers she needs, including help with a place to stay, prenatal care, maternity and baby clothes, and so much more. In most states, a mother can even drop a newborn off at a police station, hospital or fire station with no consequences. Choices...

I'm a mom. I've been one since I was 19 years old, and found myself unexpectedly pregnant. I was a freshman in college, and I was supposed to be the "good, Catholic girl". I hid my pregnancy from my family for five months. We were going to tell everyone as soon as we had a "plan". We never considered abortion, but we had a really hard time coming up with this "plan". We were going to elope, get an apartment, go to college. We just couldn't quite figure out how to do all that with no money. So, once my pregnancy started getting further along, I called our local Crisis Pregnancy Support Center. The women in the office were amazing. They didn't lecture, they didn't act shocked or disapproving. All they wanted was to help. They were amazing. The counselor I had offered to come with me to tell my parents. They offered us free childbirth classes and anything else we needed. They offered me a variety of choices, including helping me find adoptive parents if that was what we wanted, helping us find a place if we needed it. They were willing to do whatever it took to help us have a healthy, safe pregnancy and baby, and LIFE. They actually called me every few weeks for YEARS to make sure we were doing okay and that we didn't need anything. I was very lucky. After the initial shock, my whole family rallied around us with so much love and support. We never needed the services provided by the Crisis Pregnancy Support Center, but to this day I am grateful to know they were there, and that the counselors there truly love and care for the families they serve.

I get so tired of the argument that pro-lifers just want you to have the baby, and once you say you will, they move on to the next pregnant person. The pro-life community is all about choices... making good choices so you can provide a good life for you and your baby. There is help for any situation. All you need to do is ask for it.

I have said this in past posts, and I truly mean it. We would care for a child until the mother was ready. We would help a mom and her baby anyway we could. We would help a mother find what options work for her and her baby, so that she need never have to live with knowing that she took every choice away from her child.

Tucking Them In...

2012-01-11T11:11:00.000-05:00

     I know I already posted today, but I still have so much rolling around in my heart and in my mind. If you have been here before, you know that we lost our little twins back in October. One of the blessings I have found in this has been that I have spent the time since treasuring these little ones even more than before. More cuddling, more savoring. More sniffing of necks slathered in baby lotion. More hugging the teenagers, more patience with the tweens. Kolbe has even been letting me hug him. He probably knows I need to.

     I was frustrated with nearly everyone in my household today, most of all myself. I was anxious, and irritable, and just needed a little time to escape. Once I did that, I was able to come in, make dinner, sing with Kenzie, play with babies. I know, my 2 year old, 4 year old and 6 year old aren't really babies. But, they are my babies. The tail end of this tribe of mine. I watched my big boys eat us out of house and home, and my Jenna quietly reading, her nose ever in a book. Eventually we went upstairs for our bath-lotion-jammies-teeth-stories-prayers-bed routine.

     I took a minute, as I was tucking in those wee small bodies, after listening to their sweet little voices praying the Angel of God prayer, asking God for blessings on those they love, with their teeth all shiny, their hair combed just so, and smelling like heaven itself - the goat smell briefly held at bay (thank you, Johnson&Johnson), and I felt that gratitude. That sheer wave of gratefulness that spreads over you when you know they are here, they are happy, they are safe in your arms, and that for the time we have on this earth, they are yours. Thank you Lord, for the blessings of my children. Please let me always remember this moment, when they are still small. Thank you also for the sweet little saints awaiting us in heaven. My George and Gabriel, Matthew, Jordan and my other tiny ones. I love you all so much.

I Ran Away from Home Today...

2012-01-10T23:01:00.001-05:00

     Today was rough. I don't even know why. Ben was over the top annoying, Jonah just wouldn't stop eating. Jenna was bugging me about an order I placed for her. Doug was mad because I spent our whole last paycheck and only got two bills paid. Kolbe won't stop flipping through the air. No one really did school, with the exception of Kenzie. I ended up running away from home...for about an hour. I dropped off the water bill, and went to the grocery store for more butter. I can't bring myself to buy a whole bunch of butter at once, unless it is really cheap. I keep thinking, that much like gas, it will probably go back down in a day or two, so I only get what I have to have. This of course means I go to the store way too often. To buy butter.

     So, anyway...I ran away from home. On the way I talked to my mom. When I ran out of places to go, I went home, but instead of going inside, I slouched down in the van and called my sister. My Boo, who is leaving me in a few short months for far off Pittsburgh. Alright, so Pittsburgh is an hour and a half away. But, it's not like it's the next town over, like now. It's not like she'll live right near my parents and brother and sister. So, I am missing her already. So, back to hiding from my children. I slouched down, hoping no one would see me if they came to investigate. Luckily, no one did for a good 45 minutes. I got to talk on the phone with my sister, where no one could hear me, and I could moan and complain and yes, even gossip a wee bit, without anyone interrupting, or overhearing something I would rather they didn't, or asking me who I was talking to, or anything. It was great. (I also had a stash of cheapo chocolates, and that made it even better.)

We talked and talked, and as we did I was reassured that no matter where she went, I could always have this with her. She would always be able to just hang out on the phone with me. While we were talking, we started to wonder if we had ever been mad at each other. More than kid stuff, and more than annoyed. I mean actually angry. Neither one of us could remember a single instance. Maybe that is just the blessing of time, or the fondness of our hearts, I'm not sure. But, for as long as I can remember, she has always been my very best friend. She is the first person I ever worried about. She is the first person I ever took care of. My husband often wonders if I love her more than I love him. Of course I do. And, of course I don't.

     She moved away from me once before, to the actually kind of far off land of Chicago. I think I might have been mad at her then. I really, really hated that she lived so far away. But, they only stayed away for six months, and they came home constantly. I think maybe, as much as she loved Chicago, she missed us. Now she is moving, and this time it probably will be a bit more permanent. I worry about losing cousin sleepovers, and our girls night out, and the fun of last minute family dinners when we all pile into my folks' house and make them feed the 35+ of us at the drop of a hat (which they always manage to pull off, somehow). I love how close our family has always been, I know how special and rare that can be. I don't want it to change.

But mostly, I worry about missing my sister. I know I can talk to her anytime I want. I could even drive over to see her pretty easily, but not as easily as dropping in just because we're around. Not as easily as just deciding to have dinner together. It won't be easy to leave all the kids together while we go prowl the aisles of the craft store or Target. I also worry that she will be lonely, or need me, or will have to walk to "C" Building all by herself. Wait, that was 3rd grade. But that's how I feel.

Benjamin and His Bathtime Narration

2012-01-06T22:12:00.002-05:00

Benji is equal parts pure love and pure terror. Well, not equal parts. He is about 85% pure love, but that 15% of terror is potent, people. Most of the time, he absolutely slays me with his constant chatter, the over use of my name, and some of the things you never expect to hear come out of your child's mouth.

Benjamin's (4) narration of our bedtime bath and jammie time:
Mom! The baby is drinking butt water!
Mom! 'Tend this is a pool, 'tay, Mom?
Mom! I am doe-ing deep sea diving, 'tay, Mom?
Mom! Are you donna swim wif us?
Mom! The baby is spilling all the water in my ocean!
Mom! Luke is hogging up my whole pool over here!
Mom! When you wash me on the back you hurt my fur!
Mom, I fluffed, did you see my bubbles?
Mom! I hate wotion! Wait, is it sumscreem? I wove sumscreem, so I don't get burnt, do I?
Mom, I love tissing (kissing), do I?
Mom, you love tissing, too, wight?
Mom, we are so in wove, are we?
Mom! Tag!
Thanks, Mom, I don't wike the tag, do I? It hurts my fur. But I wike my dinosaur jammies, they have dinosaurs all wover, do they?
Mom, will you brush my teef and wead stories and say prayers and snuggle wif us? And play the sleeping game?

Because, of course, this routine isn't the same every single night, or anything...How will I ever survive without wee ones in the house? I will miss this so very, very much!

Christmastide

2012-01-03T23:19:00.002-05:00

Just Write - a prompt I have seen on several other blogs...is hard for me. I feel like I have to actually have a point when I post. Of course, that leads to no posts.

Thanksgiving and Christmas have come and gone...no posts. Although, I have been very busy with the Christmas season - not an excuse, just fact. When we were in the middle of losing our twins, I just wanted it to be time to get ready for Christmas, so I had something else to focus on. Something joyful. So, as soon as Thanksgiving was over, we went whole hog. I embraced the season as I haven't in many years. I baked my heart out. We did several projects, and had a blast all Advent long. A couple of the things we did, I would like to make a annual tradition, I loved them so much.

Jeffery Fam 2011

One of the first things we did was to really celebrate the Feast of St. Nicholas. We have actually been doing this for a number of years, but this year I let the teacher in me escape just a little. Oh, how I wish I could let her out all the time, but I am afraid of what she might do. We wouldn't get a whole lot of lessons done, but we would bake, and do art, read stories and find ways to weave our lessons together so that they made more sense. We would do all art, literature and history, with very little math or science - just the bits that would leak in with the baking or other activities. We would play all day and learn about all the saints and never do much actual book learning. So, I have to keep her under control. (I think I am an unschooler at heart, but afraid my kids won't learn enough so I have to have some structure!)

So, back to St. Nick. The arrival of his feast day is always met with chocolate coins in the shoes or stockings, and candy canes for the tree. We put the tree up over Thanksgiving, but save the candy canes for this special day. This year I made up ~~work for my sisters to do~~ little goodie bags with coins, candy canes and worksheets for all my nieces and nephews to do on the feast day as well. I put them in little Santa bags, hoping to inspire them to want to learn more about Saint Nick. So, my kids got up that morning and were pleased to discover the coins. We had fun reading the story of how St. Nick decided to help some young maidens with their dowries by tossing bags of gold coins down the chimney so they could get married. We went on to read about his staff, and how candy canes are just the same shape. All these stories and more can be found at the St. Nicholas Center. I had so much fun choosing the stories and coloring pages.

My husband and I also carved more than our usual share of time out together to do our shopping. We had several afternoons of going out to lunch, shopping for gifts and just enjoying the season and being together. He is not as big a fan of Christmas as I am, but he's coming around. When I met him he was a bit of a "Bah-Humbug!" sort, with a tiny little Charlie Brown tree. Now, as the father of so many children, he has been forced to love it a little more. He joined me in the kitchen, or rather, I joined him, and we cooked and baked so much, we were vying for counter space! Me and my cookies and sticky buns, him and his fudge and turkeys and hams and mashed potatoes. We had a lot of fun delivering treats to loved ones.

We also had our first annual cookie eating and ornament making party. It was so much fun! We had an open house and invited my sisters and my close friends and their children to come over. Moms sat and talked, kids ate cookies and painted wooden ornaments to take home. I really, really loved this and plan to make it part of our Advent from now on. We kept everything super casual,and I think it was a success.

The Karcher family has a long standing tradition we call "Cookie Day". All the moms and kids gather at my mom's house and we bake all day long. We used to try and do ALL of our Christmas cookies that day, but as more and more children came, that just got to be too hard. Nowadays, we just do gingerbread men and cut-out cookies. We all bring dough ready to be rolled, and just let the kids take turns rolling, cutting, decorating and of course, eating their little hearts out. I look forward to this day with a mixture of trepidation and joy. Joy because the kids love it, but man, it can be a little stressful. This year, though, I think we finally have it down to a science. One mama to monitor each phase of cookie creation, and putting the bigger girls in charge of watching over decorating, and we flew through it all - about 200 dozen cookies - with ease. Not too shabby, considering there were 4 toddler boys, 1 newborn, so many eager, small, blond girls I have lost count, and a bunch of big and small boys all waiting for their turns at each station. Luckily we have lots of older girls to help keep everything running smoothly.

Our youngest daughter, Jenna takes tap dance lessons with her cousin, MaryKate. They had a fun, not nearly as stressful as the Spring recital, recital. It was very fun and Christmasy to watch as they tapped along to "Jingle Bell Rock".

The week leading up to Christmas I of course wrapped and wrapped. And make candy. And cookies. And cinnamon rolls. And pies, and sauces for the pies. I was so tired, but having such a good time. I truly didn't want it to be over too quickly. Fortunately, we got a bit of a longer Christmas this year. We took a brunch of breakfast casserole, cinnamon rolls and mandarin oranges to my in-laws house on Christmas Eve morning. We had a lot of fun just hanging out, watching the kids play, and getting some nice, quality time with my husband's brothers and mom and dad. It was really, really nice. No rush to be anywhere, the kids played and talked. We had a great time.

After a bit we had to go and get ready for Mass, where our Luke would be a shepherd, my big boys, Jonah and Kolbe would serve Mass, and my girls would sing in the choir. Christmas Eve Mass is always, always my favorite part of Christmas. All the sweet little voices of the children's choir singing "Pa rump pa pum pum" and yelling "Go Tell It on the Mountain". Every year I wait for that, and just sit and savor that moment. This year, as has happened in other years, we were getting all these kids where they needed to go for the Mass, and missed out on sitting in the church. Always bums me out a little. I have to work pretty hard at not being truly annoyed at the people who only go to church at Christmas and Easter (the Chreasters, as our pastor puts it). I know its small and petty, and I really don't want to feel that way at Christmas, but when I have to miss seeing my children in the choir because of people crowding the church one day a year, I get a little peeved. Off soapbox!

At home we get dinner, baths, and tuck wee ones into bed after reading the Christmas story from Luke. Most of the time the bigger kids are strangely willing to go to bed early, and this year was no exception. Kolbe, who is nine, was really worried that we weren't going to bed, too. He didn't want to take a chance that Santa wouldn't stop because we were still up. If he actually believed in Santa, that is. This year took a lot of work to keep him believing. The clincher was a handful of old jingle bells donated to the cause by Liz's mom. She knew Kolbe was having a hard time believing this year, and thought that the old jingle bells, left just for him, might do the trick. She was right! ~~Doug~~ Santa writes a letter to the kids every year. Each child gets a mention - what they have been good about, and even what they have been naughty about. This year, Santa chose to leave the bells for Kolbe because he has become such a hard worker, and so much help to his parents, and that kind of thing is high up on Santa's list! He has carried the bells around in a bag every since. I love that my oh so very logical, please explain it to me in detail son still believes.

The Seven, as I call them, on Christmas Eve

Christmas morning didn't arrive until after 8am, thankfully. We got up and had the best time watching the kids tear open the carefully selected and wrapped gifts. I was thrilled this year that each child got at least one gift that I knew would be dear to their hearts. I think they had a really nice Christmas, and I know how blessed we are to be able to do that this year. We had a leisurely day, playing with new toys, getting ready slowly throughout the day to go to my parents' house for Christmas dinner. Dinner with all of us are always a little chaotic, but this year it was worse, due to my suggestion that we do a buffet. You have to plan that sort of thing, ya'll. You can't just do it on the fly when there are almost 40 hungry people standing around! So, we learned a little, coped, and then settled in for the fun. Kids had a sweet gift exchange where each cousin presented their secret person with a gift. Many of them were so excited to see the recipient open the gift - it just made everything even sweeter. To top off our super gooey evening, my sister got her picture - the other thing we (by we, I mean Doug) do every year. He draws a portrait of every new baby every year. Many years he has had two to do, but this year there was just sweet Spencer, my sister's youngest.

Now, I said that church is my favorite thing at Christmas, but this year I had a new favorite moment. Two of them, actually:

and

Cousins, Jenna, MaryKate and Reagan and the little guy is Sam, my brother's son. So, so lovely.

If you are still reading this, Merry Christmas, and a Blessed, Happy New Year. Christmas isn't over yet! The Feast of the Epiphany is Sunday! I am going to Christmas it up until then...not ready for it to be over just yet...

Thankful for the Joy...

2011-11-16T17:27:00.002-05:00

Losing our sweet little babies took me to a dark place. I was so, so very sad. Heartbroken. Far more heartbroken than I have ever experienced. I have lost babies before, ended relationships. But never before have I been this heartbroken. I felt so much anger. I felt like no one was hearing my prayers.

It has been a little over a month now. I am still sad, still cry so easily. Any emotion at all brings the tears to my eyes. My husband. Oh my. He and I have come through all of this so very much in love. It's weird, how something so painful can bring about a level of love and closeness that is astonishing in it's strength. I don't quite know how to describe it, but I have been marveling at it, and reveling in it. I am so grateful for it, because it has brought so much joy back into my heart. I am so grateful for him. Thank you Lord, for the gift of my husband.

The kids are sweet. They were sweet the whole time, but I was having to really dig to feel the joy they usually bring me. It's back. Some of it is a little bittersweet. My Yebbi - the babies really looked like him. The shape of his head, his legs, they will allow me glimpses of what our little George and Gabriel would have looked like. My Ben has been sick this whole time. Usually this would have made him extra grumpy, but I don't know if he is picking up on the warm, sweet vibe running through our house, but he has been pure joy. Sweet, kind, huggable. Wanting to snuggle and be held. He, Yeb and Luke have been full of funny things to say and I have been savoring each and every one. I am so glad to be "back"! I love being in love with all these kids. I love tucking a little boy under each arm to read stories and say prayers at night. I love how smart and funny Kolbe is. I love how much Jonah loves his brothers and spends so much time playing with them. I love how he likes to stand close to me, to prove how tall he is, and that he is gaining on me rapidly. I love how my Jenna is such a help to me, and loves to chase after Yebbi and grab him up for a snuggle. My Kenzie Rose, she is like my right arm. We sing in the kitchen, in the car, doing laundry. It is so good to want to sing with her again. Thank you, Lord, for the gifts of my sweet children.

Our little house. I was mad at it. I can't really tell you why. I think, perhaps, I have always looked at it with those rose colored glasses. We moved here 10 years ago. It was the first house we purchased together. I loved it. I mean, really, really loved it. It's an 80 year old foursquare with some arts and crafts influences. It needs plumbing work, wiring, paint, and lots more. But to me, it was this little haven where we were safe. Where we were raising all these sweet little babies. Somehow, when this happened, my house bubble burst. I felt like the house let me down somehow. I know it doesn't make sense, but I didn't care if we moved, if I never saw this house again. But, my love for this place, the joy I feel here is starting to come back. I know a house can't keep you safe from life, but up until this point, I really felt like it had. I love our house again, and I am so glad. I don't love the stickiness, or the mess, or the plumbing, but I love the arches, and the french doors, the solid cherry woodwork, the huge windows that I cannot bear to cover completely, as they let in so much light. I am happy we live here, again. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of a safe and happy home.

I am so thankful to be able to feel joy again. I know I will never get over losing my little babies, but I will be happy, feel joy. Even feel joy in knowing that I have completed the mission of getting my children to heaven. I have six children in heaven, waiting for me. I will do everything I humanly can to make sure the rest of us get there, too. I love you, my little ones. I will meet you someday. Thank you for the joy you brought me, so very briefly, while you were here. I am grateful for the joy you feel at the feet of Jesus, for all eternity.

Thankful for an Opportunity to Share...

2011-11-07T23:36:00.000-05:00

As part of our Christmas this year, we have decided to help with a very special project. My very dear friends' parents run New Covenant Mission in San Benito, Peten, Guatemala, and they have discovered 121 people living in the municipal dump, including 49 children under the age of 8. If you are looking for something special to do for someone else this year, please consider donating, or even shopping and sending clothing or small toys and books for the children. Our kids know about this project and are excited about it. Please check out the video and consider making it part of your Christmas, too.

In the video, Mr. Spurrier mentions that 40 some people live there. Upon investigating further, they have found that it is actually many more. My friend, Amy, gave me a run down of the ages of the children, to make it easier to shop. I have included her list, as I didn't want to mess up any details! I am really good at messing up details:

"They can't take anything that is perishable because it'll never make it thru customs. mom and dad are taxed less if the tags are still on it bc of the used clothing trade down there... sounds crazy, I know. They really could use hats, socks and gloves, stuff like that. It only gets down to about 60degrees at night this time of year there but when your body is used to 120 degrees and you have no blankets to cover at night and it's windy... they freeze. Little dollar store toys and trinkets are always welcome too.

Here's the breakdown of the kids:
Girls (ages 3-8) : 11
Boys (ages 3-8): 19
Toddler Girls (ages 2/3): 6
Toddler Boys (ages 2/3): 4
Girls 12-18mos. : 2
Boys 12-18mos. : 2
Girls 6-12mos: 2
Boys 6-12mos: 3"

If you are looking for a something very special to do with your kids this Christmas, please consider this project. Our family has decided to help with this. We were planning on buying things for our babies, but since we won't be doing that, we have decided to shop and choose gifts to send, and offer it up in prayer for our sweet George and Gabriel. I think it will help my heart, and I know my kids will love choosing small gifts and toys to send. I wish I could scoop them all up and bring them home, but I can't. So, we will help in the ways we can. Blessings to you all as we approach this holy time of year!

Thankful for My Husband

2011-11-06T12:06:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I've ever told this story here, but since part of my keeping this little blog is having a record, I am going to go ahead and tell it. Seventeen years ago last month, my husband and I met at the Olive Garden for dinner. It was a blind date. He was waiting for me outside when I arrived late, dropped off by my brother. As we drove up, I could see him standing there, and I guessed it was him, I think by the shirt he told me he would be wearing. Before I got out, I asked my brother if he looked like an ax murderer or anything. His teenage reply was something to the effect of "No, he just looks like a guy". While he was being mildly sarcastic, it made me feel better, so I hopped out, and approached the guy in the plaid shirt, leaning against the wall. I introduced myself,apologizing for being late (my brother and I had to move a bunch of cars just to get one out so he could drive me over) and instead of some polite reply he said to me; "Well, I already let one table go while I was waiting for you. We have to wait for another one." Clearly, I had already made a bad impression. Lateness on a first date, especially a blind date, might make the other person think you are not coming. I probably was just a minute or two shy of him leaving all together, though he has never mentioned. Hmmm, I'll have to ask him.

So, we went into the Olive Garden to have dinner. Me, babbling away nervously, him, barely saying a word. I was starting to think I was talking to much, irritating him, or he just didn't like me. So, we ate, and drank copious amounts of iced tea. When it was time to go, though, he held my chair and then gently guided me towards the door. We were going to go to the mall to kill some time before our movie started. When we got to the mall, Doug mentioned that he needed to use the restroom because all that iced tea had 'swoosh (with an arm motion and everything) gone right through him'. Well, that finally broke the ice - he turned beat red at the admission, and I giggled, and we were finally a bit more comfortable with each other.

We had spoken on the phone, and decided to see the new John Travolta movie, "Pulp Fiction". Neither of us knew anything about it, but it was supposed to be his comeback movie. And how bad could it be, ya know? We both had loved the "Look Who's Talking" movies and all of his previous work. Seemed like a safe choice.

Well, we got in there, and first of all, tons of cursing, scary scenes, sexy scenes. etc. are really embarrassing when you are sitting next to someone you barely know. It's like you are not sure how to react to them. Never mind the fact that I REALLY don't like scary/suspenseful movies, they just make me a nervous wreck. I was just about to crawl under my seat to hide until it was over when the main female character says something like "Don't you just hate all this 'getting to know you' bullsh*t?" Ya know, just what I had been doing all night long. All the "Where do you work?", "Where are you from?","How many brothers and sisters do you have?", of course not delving any deeper, but still a getting to know you session. Talk about awkward. It was just plain weird.

Anyway, Doug drove me home in his truck, telling me not to worry about the smoke coming out of the heater vents because he had just hit a deer in it, and had it fixed, but they hadn't fixed it right. (This would be the first of many, many deer he has hit in our years together.) When he dropped me off, I just looked over at him, babbled out a "It was nice meeting you!" and ran into the house. I didn't even give him a chance to walk me to the door. I can't remember if that was on purpose or not, but the next time I talked to him, he let me know that he felt badly about not walking me to the door. He had been a gentleman all night, and I hadn't allowed him that last courtesy.

We started talking on the phone the next week. We talked for hours and hours...long distance! I still can't figure out how we paid all those long distance charges, but at the time, we didn't care.

During one conversation, Doug was sewing Elizabeth's pants. I don't remember why he mentioned it, but something happened to me when he said it. It became really clear to me what kind of dad he was. After all I had been through with Meg's biological father, this was amazing to me. He was so aware of his child's needs, he knew her pants needed mending.

Doug picked me up for our second date. We went to a haunted house. I was so excited. I had been daydreaming all week of how he would hold my hand as went we through the haunted houses.

Turns out, I don't like haunted houses, which I didn't want to tell him when he asked if I would like to go to one. I wanted to be all polite and go with the flow. So, not only did he hold my hand, the poor guy held my hand, tucked the rest of me behind himself as he dragged me through the place. I just kept my eyes closed and stumbled along. I am a total chicken. Just can't take that stuff!

We went on a hayride after that, and Doug shivered the whole time because he had just worn a little windbreaker. This isn't relevant, except for the fact that we always talk about how cold he was all night that night.

We wanted to go to dinner after that, but it was getting late. One of the only places we could find open was a Country Kitchen. The food was awful, the place was kinda dirty. We got out of there as fast as we could, but weren't ready to go home, so we spent a few minutes trying to think of an appropriate place to go to be alone to talk. We tried a park, but promptly got kicked out. Who knew you couldn't walk through a park after sundown? After that, Doug took me back to my parents'house, but as usual, it was a lit up and there were a billion cars outside, indicating that there would be no quiet corner to talk. So, we walked around the neighborhood until it got too cold. So we tried to say goodbye in the driveway, but we just weren't ready to leave each other yet. Inside someone had music playing so we danced in the driveway, talking and laughing long after the music went off. I think we were out there for three hours. Neither one of us was cold anymore, and I knew. I just knew deep down that this man had been hand chosen for me by God.

We dated for a few months, but we both knew what was coming. We were married a year to the day we met. We've been together through lost babies, sick babies, blended family issues, and everything that a married couple goes through. He's my best friend. I talk to him even when he isn't standing there (which sometimes leads to confusion, because I am convinced I told him something, and he has no clue), he's the only one who knows everything there is to know about me. He has never let me down, and has always been what I need. Plus, He ALWAYS smells good, is tall enough to make me feel small, and has really bad eye sight, so is convinced that I am hot, poor guy. I think God did a pretty good job picking him out for me, and I am thankful. I hope and pray that I have been all those things to him.

Finding Some Thankful...

2011-11-02T20:47:00.002-04:00

Being thankful has been a little bit of a challenge for me lately, and that's not usually how I operate. I usually am steeped in gratitude for all I have, especially the short people I trip over constantly while trying to accomplish any given task. I hold them in my arms and whisper prayers of thanksgiving. My heart is usually full. Gratitude comes easily to someone who has had sick babies live and near disasters averted.

Then this happened. When we were going through it, I was heartbroken, but found small things to be thankful for. Like our parish priest dropping whatever he was doing the day we found out to come to our home to give us and our dead, unborn babies a blessing. Like the fact that we were able to deliver in a hospital that was very respectful of our grief, and of our sweet boys. And the nurses who gave us magnificent care. And Sister Kathleen who came to see us three times during our hospital stay to pray with us, and finally, to give our babies a final blessing.

I was grateful that my mother and father-in-law made sure our kids at home had a hot, grandma prepared meal. I was grateful that my sister had come to stay with them, so that they would have a grown up telling them that everything was going to be okay, dole out hugs, and provide some cheer. I was so very, very grateful that everyone heeded our request to go through the labor and delivery of our babies alone. We were able to sit in the quiet, hold hands, cry, pray, and let sleep come when it would. We didn't have to pretend for anyone, that we were okay. For that, I was especially grateful. I was grateful that my mother prayed for me, and reminded me that Our Blessed Mother is right here, always praying for me, when I wouldn't pray myself. I have been very grateful for the words of other mothers who have been through this. Your words have reminded me, blessed me, and helped me in so many ways.

It was after we got home, when I had time to think, that the anger over it all set in. I was so, so angry. I had prayed, and prayed, and prayed for the safety and health of my babies. I felt betrayed, sad, confused. You see, God has so rarely ever answered my prayers with 'no'. I have had babies, lots of 'em. Prayers answered. I have had sick babies get well. More prayers answered. I prayed for these little babies for weeks and weeks. I was so scared something was wrong. Maybe that was God preparing my heart, just a little, for what was to come.

It's hard being mad at God. I'm not as religious as some, and more religious than others, but I consider myself a woman of faith. I thought my faith was deep, and abiding, and would accept whatever God had in store for me. I never expected to feel anger towards Him. I was shocked at myself, and the level of my anger. I begged Him to understand - all the while knowing that He did. He knows my heart. He knows it so well, that He knew how angry I would be before I did. Perhaps that's why I had this sort of intuition that things were not going to go well.

I am finding my way back. Little by little, I am less angry...less questioning. I am starting to accept that He creates for His kingdom. His ways are not the ways of man. (Sound familiar? I have been constantly repeating this to myself...it helps.)Some of you Catholic mamas will be shocked at this...but I haven't been back to Mass since this all happened. I have found legitimate excuses. But they are still excuses. My husband and I stopped at our local Catholic bookstore the other day, and with it's quiet music, religious items everywhere, well, I just wanted to cry, standing there. I made my purchases and we got out of there as fast as we could. I know when I go back to church, I will cry. My soul is already clawing at me to go. I wish I could go alone. I need to find a daily Mass where no one knows me. Then I could sit in the back and cry all I want, and no one would say anything to me. I want to lay all this at His feet, at the feet of my Lord and ask Him "Why?!" and yell at Him, because He can take it, and then hug Him, and have Him hug me back and tell me that my little babies, all of them, are just fine. That they are waiting for me. I know they are, so I need to start finding my thankfulness again.
So, in that mindset, I want, need, have to try and remind myself of all the beautiful things for which I am thankful. Tomorrow, I will start with my husband.

A New Way of Thinking...

2011-11-01T18:30:00.003-04:00

When I was pregnant, my mind constantly revolved around how we were going to move bedrooms around for our twins, how many nursing bras I would need, whether we would be painting the bedroom that would be the nursery (for girls) or just dress it up a bit for boys. Doug and I had a constant but friendly battle over names going, and I would have to say that a good 70% of my thinking revolved around babies, doctors, pregnancy, nursing, or some other baby related topic.

Actually, I have been either pregnant or nursing or both for the last nearly 16 years. All of it. No breaks in between. To suddenly have only me physically dependent on my body is weird. I feel like I am having a bit of an identity crisis. If I go to take a pain reliever, I stop and think first, and then realize, I can do whatever I need to, without consideration for how it will affect a wee one. To some this might be welcome, but it just makes me sad.

I need a new way of thinking about my life, my own body, and the way the future is stretching out in front of me. We've had so many miscarriages, and this last one is beyond anything we have gone through before. My husband is staunchly in the "no more babies" camp. I wish I were. Six months ago, I would have told you I was in that camp too, and meant it. But, six months ago, I was still nursing our baby, Yeb. Six months ago I was tired. Six months ago, I hadn't just lost my twin boys. I know that another pregnancy would not bring back my boys, but it might fill some of the ache. It might (I have long since learned that a pregnancy does not necessarily mean a living babe in arms) fill my aching arms, and it might help the tears stop. I know that this is a knee jerk reaction to loss. I have had this same reaction every time we have lost a baby. The urge to be pregnant, hold a baby, nurse a baby comes on so strong. I think I am driving my poor husband crazy. I know he understands, and I am also aware that he considers it a normal, though irrational reaction to loss. He is waiting for me to get over it, patiently. He gently reminds me of why it's not a good idea to have any more babies (aside from the fact that he turned 49 yesterday). But, BUT, BUTTTTTT. I am full of "buts". But I want a baby. But Yeb is still so small that it won't be that big a difference, but I have wanted a little girl for so long. But I am so selfish.

I know what my husband, who has been by my side for all of the last 16 years of babies, miscarriages, emergencies, sick babies, and so many other things, wants. We've been through a LOT. Not as much as some, but still... a lot. He needs to be able to be his age a little. Not a new dad every 2 years or so. But that isn't even why. He thinks I have been through too much. He thinks we've pushed our luck too far, too many times. 16 years, 12 pregnancies, 7 babies. Three babies very ill at birth. It's been hard, and scary. And incredible. It's been our life. I need a new way of thinking about life that doesn't mean babies... and that's hard for me. I have dreamt of nothing but having babies since I was about 12 years old. I just wanted babies. A couple of times I have gotten to a point where I thought I would be comfortable if we never had another baby. When I got pregnant with Luke, I was so tired, and I was a little dismayed. But, he was Doug's (and God's) idea. He wanted another baby - and so we had our Luke. Then, after Yeb - being born c-section and sick, we thought that would be a good time to be done having babies, but I never really ruled it out in my head. I had dreams of a sweet little pink bundle. Those dreams are hard to give up, even though I know that we have been abundantly blessed. But, I guess it's time. My body has become more of a death trap for a baby than a cozy place to grow. We are getting older, and we could even have grandchildren in the next few years. It's time to close this chapter and move on to the next one. I'm not ready. I still dream of that bundle of sweetness. I still want babies. I guess acceptance of this new phase of life will come in time.

If you are one of my babies reading this, I want you to know this...all the heartache, all the scares, all the hospitals and doctors and losses...every second I got to hold you, nurse you, love you. Each and every single second of that was worth all of this.

A Bit of Normal

2011-10-26T20:16:00.000-04:00

When it first happened, everyone wanted to bring food, and tried to surround us with love. I just couldn't handle that. I didn't want anyone to act like anything was really out of place, or really wrong. Our moms brought food, and my sister-in-law (my mother in law fed my kids while we were in the hospital, thank goodness, and my mom brought so much food, it lasted all weekend!). Some sweet friends from far away sent a gift card to a favorite local restaurant (I still can't figure out how she did that so fast), which we used for a bit of "fun" for the kids. But, when my sisters and friends asked when they could send a meal, I asked them not to. I just hated the feeling that we needed help, or taken care of, or that something so bad had happened that people felt it necessary to bring food. My kids cried for days, and my crying just made it worse. I needed to at least get the kids to a place where they could feel like everything was going to be okay, even though for me and their dad, and for them too, it was going to be a long time to get back to normal. I think my sisters and friends understood my need for normal, or were just willing to give me whatever I wanted. Either way, it helped me feel more normal, to have to fix dinner, or hear my sweet husband moving around in the kitchen creating one of his masterpieces. He cooked so much that week, and took such good care of all of us. I think he needed to be able to cook, do the things he would normally do. When something happens that is so painful, and so not what you were expecting, then you need the routine and schedule, and daily chores of life to keep you sane. At least, we did.

The house is starting to feel more normal, though my bedroom, it's hard to be in there. It's where I would lay at night, with my hands low on my belly, to feel their tiny nudges and pokes. Just a few days before they died, my husband and I lay in that bed for the longest time, him trying to feel them moving, and me giggling and saying "Did you feel that? Oh wait, there is one over here! Did you feel that?" Finally, after some chasing around, and me holding my breath, and him being very still and waiting, he was able to feel the tiny nudges and the roaming around of our wee babies. It was a special moment, one we've shared many times, but always special because of the newness of each little being. This time there were two of them, and we were going to soon know who they were; Priscilla Grace and Suzanna Joy, or George Ellis and Gabriel Akers (It makes me so happy to see their names all typed out, I feel like it makes them more real to people, it certainly makes them more real to me. And of course they are real, even if we were the only people, outside the doctor and nurse and a sweet nun, who ever saw them. They are real, we have pictures, and we held them. I have a tiny stack of their 'things' in my room.). I was so, so hoping for little girls, but my, oh my, I would give just about anything to have my sweet baby boys here, growing and getting ready for the world. I am starting to accept what a dear friend said to me the other day, this was a different kind of blessing, but a blessing all the same. It just doesn't feel like one yet.

In this house, with noisy boys and bossy girls creating chaos all day long, it has gotten easier to keep the tears at bay, but they are still hitting me at unexpected times. I find something I had bookmarked to buy for the babies, or I smell a smell that doesn't bother anyone else, and think "oh, that pregnant smell aversion!" only to remember that I am not pregnant, though I seem to be left with a few hormones and other symptoms that have not yet gotten the message. Still, I am treasuring the last bits of this and other minor discomforts, as they are the last physical signs that my boys were here.

I go back to work tomorrow, and I pray and pray that no one says anything to me. They all know what happened, but only my family and a handful of people know me very well. I hate crying in front of people, but if anyone says anything to me, I know the tears will start. I just don't like sympathy. I can't handle it, don't know what to do with it. I haven't been back to church yet, either. Though I know my sisters and friends have told most people, and asked them not to say anything to me. I hope this doesn't sound whiny, but if it does, so be it. I don't know how to handle it, otherwise. I just need to feel normal, if that makes any sense. I can keep the tears under control, if people just act like it didn't happen. But, at the same time it is this huge thing that is in the front of my heart every minute. One of the bloggers I read explained it in one of her posts. She said she couldn't decide if she wanted people to ask, or not to ask, or ignore her, or just pretend everything was fine. I feel just that way. Ask, or don't, or ignore me. I don't know what I want. I just want some normal. But I have a feeling that "normal" is a long, long way away from here.

What A Husband Is...

2011-10-24T15:18:00.003-04:00

A husband is someone who lets you cry yourself to sleep in his arms night after night.
A husband is the person who cries with you when you need him to, sharing the pain, rather than letting you feel the pain all alone.
A husband is someone who holds your hand, never letting go, for 23 hours of pain and sadness.
A husband is the man who holds each and every one of your children in his heart, in his arms, and cherishes them as much as you do.
A husband is someone who takes better care of you than you would ever bother to care for yourself.
A husband is the man who feels like half your heart, half your mind, half your body, and half your soul. Being away from him is nearly as hard as anything else you've ever done, especially when your heart is broken, and he is the other half of it.
A husband is the one person who can make you feel like maybe everything will be okay someday, but doesn't expect you to be okay right now.
Sometimes, a husband is the reason you keep breathing...when even holding your babies makes you cry.
A husband is the man who feeds your faith back to you, when you can't find it on your own. He's the person who reminds you that God is there, and that He is in charge.
A husband is someone who asks for nothing in return, even when he has given so very much, but makes you want to find something you can do for him, just because of his goodness.

A Lesson I Needed Today

2011-10-24T14:55:00.000-04:00

Have you ever shaken your fist at God? I have been doing so much of that lately. Another Catholic Mama put it into a bit of perspective for me...

http://practicingmammal.blogspot.com/2011/10/shaking-my-fist.html?showComment=1319482324251#c5072856313067839952

And the World Keeps Turning

2011-10-20T22:19:00.000-04:00

The world keeps turning. There is news, and events. People's lives keep going, and I sit here and wonder how it can be. My world is at a stand still. I don't even feel like I want it to keep turning. It doesn't make sense. I have cried and cried, but still the tears come. I don't feel normal, but I am trying to create some normal for my little ones. My poor husband has held me every night while I cried myself to sleep, and has been awakened when I cry in my sleep. I know it won't always feel like this, and that when I move through this a little, it will start to get better. But you know what my deep, dark secret is? I don't want to move through. I don't want to move through, because they were here for so short a time, and every day that passes takes me further away from them. I don't want to change my sheets, because that bed is the last place I knew they were alive, and it was the place I went to cry when I found out they were gone. I don't want or wish to be sad forever, but I feel like my sadness is the last remnant I have of them. I don't really want my body to heal, because these are the last physical connections I have to them. I know that none if this is healthy, and that some people will tell me that it will get better, or not to dwell, or whatever. Right now, I really don't care. I want them. I know, I know, they were never really mine. But you know what else? I really don't care about that either. They were mine. They were a part of me. A part of us.

Prayer for Miscarriage by Mother Angelica

2011-10-17T20:27:00.000-04:00

My Lord, the baby is dead!

Why, my Lord—dare I ask why? It will not hear the whisper of the wind or see the beauty of its parents’ face—it will not see the beauty of Your creation or the flame of a sunrise. Why, my Lord?

“Why, My child—do you ask ‘why’? Well, I will tell you why.

You see, the child lives. Instead of the wind he hears the sound of angels singing before My throne. Instead of the beauty that passes he sees everlasting Beauty—he sees My face. He was created and lived a short time so the image of his parents imprinted on his face may stand before Me as their personal intercessor. He knows secrets of heaven unknown to men on earth. He laughs with a special joy that only the innocent possess. My ways are not the ways of man. I create for My Kingdom and each creature fills a place in that Kingdom that could not be filled by another. He was created for My joy and his parents’ merits. He has never seen pain or sin. He has never felt hunger or pain. I breathed a soul into a seed, made it grow and called it forth.”

I am humbled before you, my Lord, for questioning Your wisdom, goodness, and love. I speak as a fool—forgive me. I acknowledge Your sovereign rights over life and death. I thank You for the life that began for so short a time to enjoy so long an Eternity. -- Mother M. Angelica

A Post, Of All Things...

2011-09-26T22:13:00.000-04:00

Anyone out there? Hello? Is this thing on? You mean, no one is here because I have been so full of neglect that this little blog sees absolutely no traffic? Shocking. I click onto the dashboard nearly every day. I think of things I need and want to write about all the time. The problem? Energy. I just don't have a lick of it these days. The thought of doing anything that is not absolutely required has just been more than I was willing to deal with, sadly.
BUT, I seem to have turned a corner! Yay - As of this weekend, my second trimester started, and all that over whelming fatigue and nausea lifted. I feel much more normal, thank goodness! My poor kids. They have been lacking in clean laundry and real food when their dad is at work. Got caught up this weekend, finally.

So...on with the post and off with the whining. We are pregnant, which most people probably know, with identical twins due in March. This was sort of a shock, and sort of not at all surprising. The night before I took a pregnancy test, I had a dream. I was praying, and asking God for just one more little girl. He and I started chatting, and I said, laughing, "Actually, if you could make it red haired twin girls, so that they would always have a sister near their own age, that would be great!" and God replied in the dream, "Alright, alright, twin red headed girls! Now QUIT BUGGING ME FOR STUFF, ALREADY! I have already blessed you so abundantly!".

When I woke up in the morning, I didn't really remember much of the dream, it was just there in the back of my mind, and I sort of laughed. Later, realizing that my cycle had gone l day longer than it ever had before, I decided to take a test. I was FLOORED when I saw those two pink lines. Truly. I know you will think that's crazy, given the number of children we have, but I was. We had determined that we were done having babies, for a number of reasons. We made it a whole two years, which we had never done before...not that we had ever actually tried.

We made an appointment with an OB right away, as I was on the hunt to find one that would let me have a VBAC. During our first appointment, I had an ultrasound because I have had a previous ectopic, so they always do an early scan to be sure the baby is where it is supposed to be. When the tech scanned over the baby, I could see right away, even though it was super early, that something was different. I started talking the same time the tech did... we were both seeing more than one baby. It was startling, for sure. One gestational sac, with two little tiny babies inside it. Sitting in the waiting room, waiting to see the nurse practitioner, I had a fit of hysterical laughter. I could not get the giggles to stop. Doug was just sort of in shock. Twins! I just remember that dream...and knew it was true, even though the tech was not 100% sure what she was seeing, so we went in two weeks later to repeat the ultrasound. Sure enough, two little babies!

Now, we still don't know if they are girls or not, and of course have no idea about hair color...but really, how could they be anything else? Now to figure out names...my husband REALLY wants Priscilla. What do ya'll think? I kinda really don't like it, but he's kind of awesome, and has wanted it for years. Priscilla Grace, and we would call her "Rissa". Hmmm. And we still need another name...and boys names, just in case...

Publish Post

So much to tell....

2011-08-01T22:44:00.000-04:00

Whew - it has been so long since I have posted here that I hardly know where to begin! So much has been going on around here:
*Swimming lessons every day at the YMCA
* I have been working in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays all summer
*This week is vacation bible school at our parish, and I have two nieces and a nephew staying for the week to attend with my kids.
*And the kicker: We found out about two weeks ago that we are expecting a baby next spring.

Yes, another baby. I am a little unnerved, just because I am so ooolllllddddd. And the last one didn't go very well. And I am having a hard time finding a doctor who will do a vbac. Which is seriously ticking me off. I had SEVEN natural births! SEVEN. And one emergency c-section. So because insurance companies have incredibly bad policies, they want me to undergo major surgery. I don't think so. Even the AMA says that repeat c-sections are unnecessary and carry more risks than a vaginal birth - so what gives? I thought the whole idea of a profit margin for an insurance company meant minimizing the risk? Well, I am just going to hunt until I find someone who both takes our insurance and will let me have a vbac, barring any unforeseen emergency. Unless...
Of course, there has to be an unless....unless, this turns out to be a twin pregnancy. I had an ultrasound today at the OB where I was initially told they would do a vbac (only to find out later that they won't). The ultrasound showed one teeny tiny (5 weeks, 2days) gestational sac, two yolk sacs and at least one baby. But, the image was too small, and they couldn't tell for sure. So, I go back in two weeks for another ultrasound to determine whether it is one or two babies, or even a viable pregnancy. There is no reason to think it wouldn't be viable, but you never know.
This of course makes me nervous, (everything makes me nervous these days). Our last baby started as a twin pregnancy and we miscarried one baby at 7 weeks. So, I am just praying to God that everything will be okay. I am not sure what to pray for as far as the 1 baby or 2 babies thing goes, so I am just praying that everything is okay. I don't know what else to pray for - so that is what I am sticking to!
So, if it does turn out to be a twin pregnancy - which scares the bejeezus out of me - there is very little hope that anyone will let me have a vbac. In Ohio - where we have sued our OBs right out of practice in many instances, no one will let you deliver naturally if you have twins, even if you have never had a c-section, so I am doomed to the section - which is why I don't know what to pray for. For those of you who have had c-sections, you know what I am talking about. Dreadful, hideous, odious pain. It was so awful, and I have ZERO desire to EVER do that again. So, I am just praying that everything works out, that everything turns out okay. To pray for anything else terrifies me, and leaves me feeling unfaithful. He's got this. I know He's got this. I just don't have a handle on it yet, so I am just handing it to Him, and He will deal with it for me. If ya'll could throw a spare prayer or two my way, I'd be grateful. I am going to have an interesting time waiting the two weeks to see what's up.

So, how's your summer going? Swimming? Vacations? Anything good going on? Need a prayer yourself? I'll keep you in mine, for sure!

Our Crazy Fireplace Project

2011-06-28T22:06:00.001-04:00

So, my sweet hubby took a week off work to do some projects around the house. One of them was going to be to build me a set of cupboards in the back of our kitchen for additional storage, but I found a dry sink for a great price at a local used furniture store, and that solved our problem, so I had a thought - actually - more of a vision - we needed to rip the gross, horrifying, pink, fake brick off our fireplace and replace it with something humans could stand to look at. So, this big project that in my head, would take an hour, turned into a three day saga of demo, grout, and splinters, but eventually gave way to a beautiful new fireplace!

Saturday - Fake pink brick and messy house!
Saturday night - Doug's fireplace plans - we originally wanted to use field stone, but the fireplace is actually fairly small, and we decided it would be overwhelming.

Sunday after church - This is the "Oh sh!t! What have we done?" Stage of the demo process.

Sunday late afternoon - This is the "Holy crap it is crumbling and what is underneath here?" part of the demo. Turned out to be beautiful glazed tile with a flor de lis centerpiece and some other decorative tiles. We were so bummed that we couldn't save it - but whoever did this fake brick not only used tile adhesive, they for some reason felt liquid nails was necessary. Wish we had known what was under there, we would have used much gentler means of removing the fake stuff!

Sometime late in theafternoon Sunday - Uncovering pretty tile - this was upsetting. I was having a hard time not trying to save it - but the top was crumbling.

Sunday evening - We were going to remove all the fake brick, but the tiles at the top and the concrete material under them started to crumble. We were not up for redoing the entire fireplace - not knowing what kind of expense that would get us into, so we opted to stop the removal at that point and come up with another plan.

Flor de lis.

Sunday night - the portion to be tiled is mostly clear of adhesive, and Doug had to do a repair to the main arch of the fireplace.

Super late Sunday night - First part of the sandstone tile application.

LAAATTTTE Monday evening - Mackenzie Rose and I stayed up and grouted the entire thing, while Doug started the surround. It took us about 1.5 Harry Potter movies to complete the grout. We decided to leave the flor de lis uncovered as an homage to the original fireplace, and I happen to think it looks very nice! I think Doug thinks I am nutso for caring so much, but I think it adds something to have part of the original fireplace.

Tuesday evening - Finished product. Doug built the wood surround using reclaimed Tobacco Pine procured from my brother's garage - he recently finished a home building project so we raided his supplies. Thanks G - I think it turned out beautifully!

We still have so much to do around here, including getting this fireplace cleaned up, but it is so nice to have one project DONE! Two if you count the whole dry sink replacing the cabinet thing! Whoo hoo! Onto house cleaning, creating and setting up a family closet in my laundry room, finishing the big boys' room make over, and cleaning and painting a room in the basement for sealing from water damage, and then cleaning and painting the upstairs bathroom. Also touching up existing paint and putting up some of those corner pieces of woodwork to prevent paint chipping. Going to be a busy rest of the week, hopefully punctuated by a visit from my sweet cousin Suzy and her family. Can't wait!

Sleepover Season - a.k.a - Summer!

2011-06-17T16:21:00.002-04:00

Summer is here, and at the Jeffery household, that means ....SLEEPOVER! We had our first sleepover of the summer last night. I gave away my two girls, and brought home most of the boys - well, all the boys old enough to spend the night! We watched movies, played Apples To Apples, ate popcorn.

This morning we made waffles and sausage, and then had a few adventures, the first being a trip to the library to see a magician perform. They boys LOVED it! They all laughed so hard, and the magician was really good! It was great to see them all together having so much fun.
We came home to find that Doug had made cheese crisp for lunch - which is a big favorite around here! I'll share the super easy recipe below. After lunch we were off to the berry patch to pick some strawberries.
What a bunch of hard workers! They each filled a quart container with berries, and we got out of there! Didn't want them in the direct sun too long!
Out of the mouths of a few of the babes:
Sam (nearly 7): "I work hard because my dad works me so hard all the time."
Tommy (9): " These berries are the best strawberries ever! They are so fresh and delicious!"
Ben (4):" I don't want to eat them, I just want to SNIFF 'em!"
Luke(6): "I never been berry pickin', Mom, dis sure is fun!"
Liam (5) (in the car eating berries): "These are so delicious, but I want to save some for my family." This KILLED ME especially since he ate about half the quart on the way home. Sorry Stace! What can I say? At least it's fruit, right?
Kolbe (8) (ever worried about rules and perfection): "Mom, is this the right size? Is this big enough? Did I get this out of the right row? How red do they have to be?"

Caleb ran back and forth and had a big time, with Jonah, the nearly teenage butthead chasing after because he was too lazy to pick berries. Butthead.

They are currently all over at the park for a last hurrah before Auntie Amy comes and sweeps her kids away, along with Liam, and brings me back my girls. Jenna and MaryKate won't want to part, but they got a nice sleepover, too - and an afternoon with a bunch of other sweet little girls at their Little Flowers meeting. A lovely way to start ~~sleepover season~~ Summer! Have I mentioned before that I love, love, love that my kids get to grow up with their cousins? I am so very thankful for that!

Cheese crisp - something we Karchers picked up while living in the AZ - is super yummy, and super easy. Just preheat your oven to 400 degrees, slap some tortillas on a cookie sheet, and layer a thin layer of monteray jack, or cheddar, or whatever cheese you like to eat with Mexican food, and put it in the oven until the tortilla is crispy and the cheese is VERY bubbly - usually about 10 minutes. Top with salsa, sour cream, jalepeno peppers, whatever you happen to like. We eat this a lot on Fridays - as we usually don't eat meat on Fridays ( I served them sausage by mistake this morning - thought it was Saturday!) but, you can easily add meat to this by cooking taco meat, or doing some chicken on the grill and adding it before or after baking. My kids love any and every variation, and it's super easy. Nice on a Friday when you just want to chill!

Because of Mary

2011-06-12T20:04:00.000-04:00

It's not a feast day of Mary or anything. It's Pentecost Sunday. But for some reason today, I am feeling very sentimental about Our Blessed Mother. I have been praying to her particularly hard lately, for guidance and for her prayers. I think this have left me feeling very close to her, and I just felt like I wanted to share a bit of her with whomever may be stopping by this page. So, here are some quotes from some other people who love/d her very much, as well as some scriptural quotes about her, in no particular order other than maybe the ones I love the most.

Now there stood by the cross of Jesus, his mother and his mother's sister, Mary of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalen. When Jesus therefore had seen his mother and the disciple standing whom he loved, he saith to his mother: Woman, behold thy son. After that, he saith to the disciple: Behold thy mother. And from that hour, the disciple took her to his own. (John 19:25-27 DRB)

Never be afraid of loving the Blessed Virgin Mary too much. You can never love her more than Jesus did and If anyone does not wish to have Mary Immaculate for his mother, he will not have Christ for his brother. ~St. Maximilian Kolbe

Thy glory is great; for thou art exalted above all women of renown, and thou art shown to be more queenly than all queens. Julius Africanus, c. 160 — c. 240

And Mary said: My soul doth magnify the Lord. And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid: for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. Because he that is mighty hath done great things to me: and holy is his name. And his mercy is from generation unto generations, to them that fear him. He hath shewed might in his arm: he hath scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart. He hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble. He hath filled the hungry with good things: and the rich he hath sent empty away. He hath received Israel his servant, being mindful of his mercy. As he spoke to our fathers: to Abraham and to his seed for ever. (Luke 1:46-55 DRB)

Mary is the lily in God's garden. ~Saint Bridget of Sweden

What would you do? What would Mary do?

2011-05-28T23:47:00.001-04:00

"When the time comes, as it surely will, when we face that awesome moment, the final judgment, I've often thought, as Fulton Sheen wrote, that it is a terrible moment of loneliness. You have no advocates, you are there alone standing before God -- and a terror will rip your soul like nothing you can imagine. But I really think that those in the pro-life movement will not be alone. I think there'll be a chorus of voices that have never been heard in this world but are heard beautifully and clearly in the next world -- and they will plead for everyone who has been in this movement. They will say to God, 'Spare him, because he loved us!'"
-- the late pro-life hero, Congressman Henry Hyde

We, as Christians, are called to be counter cultural. I tend to forget this sometimes, surrounded as I am almost entirely by family and friends of the same or very similar beliefs. Most things I watch or read are based in Christianity, or are outright a Christian publication or production. Not everything, of course. I watch the Food Network - and truly you could not find a less controversial network, which is what I LOVE about it. I know I can turn it on and not be confronted with violence, scary commercials for horror movies (I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE COMMERCIALS!) , or any kind of sexual content. I will also watch anything non-fiction, Glee, which is my guilty pleasure show, and I have an odd addiction to Friends that has lasted for almost 16 years. Anyway (sorry, stream of consciousness moment there), as I have mentioned before, I think this tends to leave me truly shocked when I encounter someone who is pro-abort. I honestly am stunned and have to work for a minute or two remember that not everyone shares my beliefs. So, when it does happen, something ticks off in my brain, and it becomes my sworn duty to change their minds, including if they are misinformed about the Catholic faith or something political. I mean, whether they like flat leaf or Italian parsley isn't going to get my goat, though for the record, Italian parsley is gross - just sayin'.

So, if you have been here this week, you know that I had a run in with someone I talk to on Facebook occasionally. I guess, used to talk to would be more accurate, as I unfriended and unfollowed. It was just too much, and nothing I said was going to change her mind. Her blog got many comments on it, all supporting her, which is pretty typical of the blogging community. It's rare that anyone disagree with a blogger on her actual blog, lest you be labeled a troll, or a hater, even if you have valid points. That's one aspect of blogging - people can turn nasty so, so quickly - the anonymity and knowledge that you are unlikely to ever run into them allows people to be far more hateful than they would dare to be to your face. In any case, I deleted my comments, not because they were wrong, but because I didn't want to be obsessed with countering every argument anyone made. I had already spent a lot of time countering her claims about the church and the church run hospital she went to - (She was mad because she wanted a tubal and they wouldn't do it at the Catholic hospital. To my mind that's a bit like going to a Kosher deli and asking for a ham and swiss on rye - it ain't gonna happen, and why on earth should it?! Private establishments are free to run as they please -and not go against their dearly held beliefs just because someone demands it).

So anyway, I am sure she thinks I turned chicken and ran. I am trying hard to not go look. I just need to be done - but as i say that - and here's the point of this post - my question to you, dear reader is this...
Is it my moral obligation to spread the Word in this instance? Am I turning away from something because it's hard, when truly the Holy Spirit wants me to get back in there and fight the good fight? Is HE the reason I can't let it go, or is it just because I am belligerent? Am I possibly ignoring an opportunity to convert this woman? I have been arguing with her for a couple of years now, getting absolutely no where. What should I do? What would you do in my shoes? What would the Blessed Mother do? Somehow I can't see her in a big battle of words, but rather praying for her conversion. Perhaps that's the best thing for now, but I'd love to hear what you think...

Disheartened...

2011-05-27T00:31:00.000-04:00

I know I can be overly passionate about some topics. Yes, my faith and as an extension, the abortion issue are among the things I feel strongly about. I was raised in a political family, one who feels very strongly about what is happening in the country.

I have been talking to a person from high school on facebook for a couple of years now. She and I tend to disagree rather vehemently on abortion issues and religion. I thought we were having heated, yet respectful arguments. But, I decided a few months ago that the arguing was taking up too much of my time, and she often had inflammatory posts and statuses, so I just blocked her content. I didn't unfriend, just blocked it so that I would not feel like I had to comment on everything she had to say. I just felt like it was better that way.

I had also been reading her blog - she only had a couple of posts up before she stopped blogging, so it didn't occur to me to take her out of my Google reader. Yesterday she popped up with a truly angry post, directed at Christianity, and pro-lifers. To be fair, she was mad about legislation recently introduced to the Georgia legislature (among other things) by House Republican Bobby Franklin - crazy, nutso legislation. He's been introducing it since 2002, so it's old news. Why it is suddenly making news is beyond me. Anyway, she was very angry, and criticized Catholic hospitals for not performing abortions or sterilization procedures (this is a whole other post). This of course, got my back up, and I had to respond. I probably over did it, and probably did not sound like the Christian I claim to be (I'm not perfect - a work in progress just like anyone else), but I just can't understand ... Can someone please explain to me how it is okay to kill a baby? Life at the moment of conception is scientifically proven - to me it is a no-brainer. But I want to understand the mindset. She accuses Christians of being brainwashed. I believe she has allowed herself to believe what she wants, hook, line and sinker - and it's all lies. The people who started the pro-abort movement in this country can tell you it's all lies. Why then, is it defended, and people like me, who want to protect the unborn, are mocked? I have posted this several times today, but I will do it again:

“If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Re...member the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours."
—John 15:18-20

For some reason, after posting to her blog my apologies for being overly harsh, I decided to check her Facebook wall. I must be twisted or have some propensity towards self flagellation. She and some of her Facebook friends were mocking me, accusing me of reporting her facebook posts as spam (I didn't even know she had written any, I had blocked her content) - it's okay, I know they think I am a nut. I didn't even mind when someone commented that she was talented for bringing a "True Believer" out of the woodwork. I took that as a compliment actually, but when she described me as "turning mean" when I couldn't get her to agree, I was actually hurt. I think our discussions have been pretty respectful. I don't use profanity, I try to explain my point as best I can.

I am honestly flabbergasted when people don't know what's behind planned parenthood, abortion, NARAL, and the like. They get so angry when a "woman's right to choose" is threatened, but they think nothing of the child. Please, I am dead serious, someone explain this to me. But please, be factual. Don't spout opinions and invented numbers. Don't tell me a baby is better of dead because of horrible parents or circumstances. I believe that EVERY SINGLE CHILD should get a shot at life. And yes, my faith is enormously wrapped up in this, but if you read my last post, you know it's not only faith, it is my belief in the Constitution of this great nation. It's being abused in so many ways, but honestly, this is the most egregious. When in the WORLD did we get so arrogant as to think we should determine who lives and who dies?!

Please - someone who understands this - please explain it to me. I truly don't get it. I am not sure that I will be able to comprehend, and I know you won't change my mind, but I would like some insight - truly. And I'm not talking about the rape/incest/health of the mother 1%, I'm talking about the other 99%. Don't get me wrong, I don't agree with abortion under ANY circumstance. But I have heard those arguments, and I have my beliefs in regards to those as well. But how does anyone justify the rest?

In the end, I went back and deleted all of my comments from her blog. They weren't being heard anyway. I unfriended on Facebook, as I thought that best to keep my thoughts from turning entirely uncharitable. I was spending too much time on it when it wasn't going to win any hearts. I need to learn how to pick my battles. That one was lost. So, I went upstairs, cuddled three smelly, gorgeous little boys. I read books and sang some songs and prayed with them. They will be the ones who win this. Our children will change their minds. I know it. I can feel it happening. So many are starting to understand, finally. They are starting to see. I pray it continues. I know it will - I just hope and pray I am alive the day this country decides it is done killing it's children. Jesus...have mercy on us and on the whole world...Blessed Mother of God, pray for us. Amen.

Pro-Life or Pro-Choice?

2011-05-26T02:22:00.000-04:00

I've been doing some reading and reacting tonight, and I just really felt this needed re -posting. I apologize if you have read it before~

What does it mean to be pro-life or pro-choice? It's an interesting question. Katrina from They All Call Me Mom, wrote a post the other day entitled "Am I Pro-Choice?". In it she states that while she is in her heart, staunchly pro-life, she does not know if, given a vote, she could ever vote to outlaw abortion entirely. Katrina cites, as many others do, that she would never want a woman resorting to a back alley abortion, and possibly lose her life as well as her unborn child. When I replied with a few points as to why the procedure should not be legal, she invited me to cross post.
I have a two-fold argument when it comes to the legalization of abortion. The first, to get it out of the way, is the constitutional legality - is it constitutional? And should it be under the state government, or federal? So, the first part of my two fold argument is also two-fold. And no, I don't think that makes it a three fold argument! (Sorry, this discussion does not lend itself to levity.) (For an abortion legalization time line, check all.org.)
1. I do believe that Roe vs. Wade was an unconstitutional decision by the Supreme Court. The court ruled that "a constitutional right to privacy exists that protects a woman's decision to have an abortion" and with that, the U.S. Supreme Court legalized abortion on demand.This decision was based on a number of items of false evidence:
A. One being that the majority of the population wanted it to be legal. Founder of NARAL, Dr. Bernard Nathanson has admitted that he inflated many statistics to sway both the public and the courts to allow abortion to be legalized.
B. Secondly, the Court took into consideration when life begins, and it of course, did not have the scientific advances we have now, knowing full well that life begins at conception (not an opinion, scientific fact now admitted to by even pro-abort factions).
C. Because they did not take into consideration that life begins at conception, they did not extend Constitutional rights to the unborn. Because we now know when life begins, those rights are inherent, and make the arguments for Roe V. Wade irrelevant, and the law itself unconstitutional.

2. Laws regarding every aspect of abortion had up until 1973, been under state law. The Roe V. Wade decision did not change abortion law, per se. It changed privacy laws which allow a woman to procure an abortion with almost no restrictions. If Roe v. Wade were overturned, it would - unfortunately, not immediately make abortion illegal. The laws on the books of each state regarding abortion would then be in effect. Some states, such as Ohio, would immediately go back to illegal abortion, but others, such as California and Colorado, who were among the very first to legalize abortion, it would remain legal. As a person who believes in States Rights, I do not think that the Supreme Court, or the Federal government should be able to make such sweeping laws, and impose them on states that clearly do not want them.

The second, and really to my mind, the most important part of any argument, is the moral aspect. To define any nation's law, one must consider natural law(here's a very educational and enlightening run down of natural law and how it pertains to the Constitution). I prefer to think of it as God's law, but in this ever increasingly atheistic society, that doesn't get you real far in an argument. Anyway, Natural law dictates that man has God given rights. And among these are truly, the right to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Now, I know, you are going to say that this is a tired old argument. But, it is so essential in the practice of obtaining and maintaining liberty as a nation, that it must be presented in any argument where a person's liberty is at stake. Of course, for this discussion, I am referring to not just the unborn baby, but the mother as well. God has given each of us these rights, and for any of us to be truly free, to truly have liberty, we must be able to live without the threat of violence, to ourselves, or each other. This is the essence of liberty. Without liberty, and with it, the right to life given to each individual, we are not observing natural law. We are flying in the face of God's law. Abortion is violence. To the baby, and to her mother.

Now, I really don't want this to get too weighty, because you'll get bored and leave. But, this is a weighty topic. I can get so emotional about it, because the idea of it is shocking to me. Truly, truly shocking. It never fails to stun me when someone says they are pro-choice. Especially someone who is truly pro-choice. When they think an abortion could EVER be the best answer. To me, this is shocking in the way that slavery is shocking to all of us now.
But, it wasn't always. When we read historical accounts of what happened in this country during the years that slavery was legal, we are shocked. We, as a nation, cannot fathom one person owning another. We read about children being sold away from their mother's arms, and cry for those children. We read about slaves being whipped for some imagined infraction, and we gasp. We see pictures of slaves on auction blocks and are astounded that this ever happened here. Why are we shocked? Why does this seem so unfathomable?

Because it goes against God. It goes against nature. That one man can own another. That one man can sell another away from his family. That he can beat him, work him, and call him "property". That he can have him killed if he does not work as he should. He can do whatever he wants with him, because it's legal - seems to foreign to our thinking, because we cannot picture ourselves in either place. Not as the owner, and certainly, not as the slave. A war was fought in this country over the right to own slaves. Slavery wasn't new, after all, it had gone on since the beginning of time. Many thought they could not afford to run their farms and businesses without slaves. Many felt it was their right to do with these slaves as they wished - after all, they weren't really human - they were some form of sub-human. Since they weren't fully human, they were not entitled to the same rights as humans. But, they were. They were human, created in God's image. Entitled to the same rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as any other human being.

We look back now and are grateful to those who finally saw the truth, and fought for it. They knew that slavery had to be made illegal. Many were willing to fight and die to make it right. So many people worked to smuggle the slaves out of the South, to freedom.

The sarcastic me wants to know if you see any parallels here. The me that wants to make a point wants to know if you can see how abortion is slavery. It is the same issue. The unborn baby has no control over her existence, just as the slave did not. The unborn baby can be killed, if the mother can't afford the child, or doesn't want the child, or if it's a boy, or if it's a girl, or if she is unhealthy. After all, the baby isn't really a baby, she is sub-human. Except that she is fully human, from the moment of conception. And abortion isn't new, it has gone on since the beginning of time - but that doesn't mean it should be legal in a civilized society. Just as slavery should never be legalized in a civilized society. Certainly not in America.

Every person, black or white, born or unborn, has the right to life. Has the right to liberty (an existence free of the fear of violence) to live in the pursuit of happiness. Someday in this country, and please Dear Lord, let it be soon, someday, people are going to wake up, and see what abortion has done to us as a nation. We don't treasure children. We see them as burdens. We have people in this country that think abortion doesn't go far enough. We have people who think it's okay to partially deliver a child, and then kill her. Or slit her throat on a table if she has the nerve to be born alive. When does it stop? Does it stop with abortion? Infanticide? Euthanasia? Anyone is is burdensome? That' not where we are headed, folks, that's where we ARE. It takes one, just one thing to create an avalanche. If abortion is okay, because of reasons x,y, and z, then those arguments are applied to the disabled, the elderly, the sick and infirm. Don't believe me? Read about Terry Schiavo, Baby Joseph, the huge number of babies with Down Syndrome being aborted.

A baby is a baby, a person, from the moment of conception, until natural death. This is scientifically proven, and it is also Natural Law. God's law.

I have argued from legal and moral standpoints. May I now offer the emotional one? As someone who has experienced a unplanned pregnancy, I honestly do know some of the fear and worry that comes from an crisis pregnancy. I also know, that from the moment I knew I was pregnant I would never, ever let anyone hurt my baby. It was instinctive. It was visceral. I know that most, if not every single woman who has been pregnant has felt the same way. It's part of who we are. God's law, nature's law, whatever - it's how we are made. To obtain an abortion, some part of a woman must be silenced, must be numb, to let it occur. She is lied to, told that her child is not really a baby - that makes it easier to bear. But she knows. And she carries the guilt and the horror with her forever after.

If I could ask for just one thing, it doesn't seem like such a big thing, since lives are at stake, both the mother's and her baby's. If it could be made a law that every woman seeking an abortion had to first see an ultrasound, preferably 3D, of her child, and then make the decision. Could she look at her child, see her face, and still say yes? I am sure there are some who could. Most could not. That instinct to protect, the one she has been trying so hard to ignore, would kick in. I think most mothers would change their minds. Most would have their babies. Is it so much to ask that the abortionist, who probably is using ultra sound to find his wee target, turn the screen first, and show the mother what she is getting rid of, what she is losing? I think not.

And one more thing - prolifers are often accused of talking the talk, but not walking the walk. That is - they want women to keep their babies, but don't want to help them. I want to just say, anyone who contacts me with ANYTHING regarding a crisis pregnancy - I will do anything I can to help her. I will help her get whatever she needs. We would keep a baby for someone who needs time, and let the mom come back for her child. We would get her in touch with whatever services she needed, Pregnancy Support Centers, maternity clothes, whatever. We would help, and I know so, so many others who would help - So if you know someone who needs help, I am here. I am willing. Please, forward this along to anyone who may need it. I will be here, if she needs me.

The good, the bad, and the lovely...

2011-05-25T00:38:00.000-04:00

I woke up this morning at 7a.m. and got ready for my first whole day in an office in years. I was so nervous, my heart felt like it was trying to claw it's way up my throat. I'm still not sure why I was so nervous, and by the end of the day, I was somewhat relieved. But, by the time I got home I was already starting to worry about Thursday. I know I will get used to this, but it's strange. It's odd to be away from the kids, especially the little ones. They weren't awake yet when I left, and the evening went so fast, by the time we got home, it was time for them to go to bed. I don't know how moms do this every day. Let alone sending their kids to school, then going to work, and then activities?! I honestly can't even imagine it, I don't even want to. At this moment in time, I feel like things will slow down again when they go back to school in the fall. What?! We just finished school! I am SO not ready to start back up again - but when they start up again, I will only be working one day a week. For some bizarre reason my terrified soul thinks that sounds pretty good.

I was never so anxious before Meg was born. I don't know if it is a product of her rather stressful entrance into the world or just my reaction to parenthood. When I was in college, after Meg was born, every minute of my life was scheduled, practically. That might sound like an exaggeration, but it's not. I always had two jobs, and school, and homework, and her. This amounted to a fairly young mother trying to do so much, I ended up with panic attacks. They've never really gone away, and have gotten so bad at times that I thought I was having a heart attack. They have always been bad postpartum, but they have never lingered this long and with this much intensity before. Makes me feel weak. Like I don't know how to suck it up. If someone else were saying all this to me I would give them a pep talk, and then basically tell them to get over it. I can't seem to take my own advice.

I used to want to go places and see people. I loved to run all over, shopping, eating at my mom and dad's or one of my sisters' or brother's houses. I still enjoy those things, if someone can talk me into leaving my house, or even our little town. I used to be so impatient with being home all the time. I thought I should be running here and there - soaking up whatever life was currently offering. For some reason, I have become complacent. I prefer my own house, and to not leave to go...just about anywhere. I am not really sure when it happened, but I think it has always been there. Even as a teenager, I would make plans to go places, and right up until it was time to actually go, I would think it was a great idea, but when it came right down to actually doing whatever it was, I wasn't really interested. Sometimes I would go just because I had promised someone I would, but if I could get out of it, I would. I think I have been growing slowly agoraphobic for years. I'm not really scared to leave, though, so that doesn't fit. It's just that I'd rather not, thanks. Why go anywhere when I can sit on the floor and toss a baby, or pretend to smell his stinky toes and make him laugh? Why run here and there when I can chase my Benjamin, screeching with giggles through our house?

As for how today went, it was fine. Really fine. Nothing earth shattering. I am not sure what I was so nervous about, and even now, as my nerves tense and my heart pounds when I think about Thursday, I am still not sure WHY. But the day was fine, I think I have a pretty good handle on what needs to be done this summer, and of course there was never anything to really fear. Except the baby wanting to nurse when he woke up, but I wasn't there. Or Kenzie needing help with vocab, but I wasn't there. Or someone just wanting me, but I wasn't there. They all survived. Their dad, though reportedly grumpy all day, was here. Period of adjustment for us all. And lots of lovely things did happen today. I got to ride into work with my Boo, and that made it SO. MUCH. EASIER. And my mom brought me a little goody bag full of little skin care items and other things I would never in a million years buy for myself. And my Boo (again) brought me a little box of nuts because she thought our family would enjoy them (they did, too!). I got to have lunch in the office with Meg and my mom. And my mom fixed me and all my kiddos her famous spaghetti for dinner - and that just takes the cake, ya'll. And then, to top it all off? My girls went to DQ on the way home (we were all in Canton separately) and brought me a frozen hot chocolate, I think they called it. And that was the cherry on the top of the cake or whatever. Top it all off with American Idol and Glee, and it was actually a pretty good day...I am thankful for all these things, these people. They do whatever they can to make things easier for me, especially because and in spite of my irrational fears. God has blessed me abundantly, I know that, and I am grateful...Blessings all, Goodnight!

Fear and Loathing

2011-05-23T23:03:00.002-04:00

Dramatic, I know. Over the top? Sure. Accurate? Not quite, but almost. Have you ever been the new kid? I have been the new kid plenty of times. Some of those times I had some advantage to take the sting of newness away. Some of the time I have felt I was at a disadvantage. I changed schools in 1st grade, in 2nd grade, 6th grade, 9th grade and 10th grade. Then again in college. College doesn't really count, though. Well, I was the new kid, but no one really knew it, because there are so many people in college. But I had a kid - and that was a bit of a disadvantage for me. Or an advantage. I couldn't tell you even one person's name from college. I went to class, went to work, went to other work, or went home to take care of Meg. And that was fine with me, mostly. I really wasn't into parties. I wasn't into making friends or hanging out - there was just too much to do. Plus, events of my life had ~~shattered~~ shaken my previous self confidence. I never really got it all the way back. I wouldn't take chances on people not liking me, so I just ignored the fact that there were other people in my classes and said as little as possible to them for the 6.5 years I was there.

When I started a new school I usually had my little sister to worry about, to keep me from worrying about myself - and that helped. It was good to worry about her lunch, or pulling up her socks, or her making friends. But, when I started at a new school in 9th grade, she was at a different school. I was going to a high school that several middle schools dumped into, so I didn't seem "new" to anyone, and I sort of just slid right in with a group of pretty cool girls. I had a great time that year. I hadn't learned to be shy or self conscious.

Back to being the new kid... you know that feeling you get right before the first day at school? That sort of nervous excitement, the level of which depends on what advantage or disadvantage you see for yourself in any given social or classroom situation. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, I would be happy/excited, other times, just shear dread, like when we moved home from Arizona and I had to start high school as a sophomore in Arizona clothes - you know, clothes are everything in high school, and my clothes were Arizona clothes - Ohio was about 2 years behind Arizona, fashion wise. My clothes looked like I had just landed from Mars. I stuck out. I was odd. I had cropped, printed jeans, weird sandals and sloppy, loopy shirts that hung to one side. I was the weirdo. And everyone already had made their friends. Thankfully, my Boo and I had lunch together, and a big goofball in the form of a soon to be dear friend rode our bus.

Tomorrow I am starting work back in an office again for the first time in a long time ( I have worked from home almost entirely for years). I know some or many of the people there, including my familiar security blanket, my sister, Dana (she probably doesn't realize she served as a security blanket for all those first days of school). Even though this is a "family" business, that almost makes it harder. I have yet to put my finger on why, but I know it has to do with being the oldest, but not in charge. Weird and unnatural, if you ask me. I am used to being in charge and working for my little brother's company has always been off kilter in that respect. But it has offered the blessing of working from home - and what a blessing that has been.

I don't know why this is filling me with so much anxiety, but it is. I have been two heart beats from a panic attack for days. I hate that. I feel like such a wuss. I used to be strong and confident. (I also used thin and pretty, I have a feeling those go hand in hand with confidence.) I now use my kids as a security blanket. I rarely go anywhere without at least a few of them. I don't know who to be without them, and I reeeeaallllly want to tuck the baby into my purse and just take him with me for the day. I don't know what to wear. My mom asked me what I was planning to wear the other day, and I just don't have those kinds of clothes. You know, the ones not stained by breastmilk and peanutbutter. The ones that don't have holes in the back pockets. And I am pretty sure I don't even own a non-nursing bra. Maybe one I bought for a wedding. I do have a couple of pairs of pants I bought a few months ago to wear to church, so I guess I will wear my church pants and my wedding bra, and attempt to find a shirt that covers...everything. Shoes? I have no idea. I have 1 pair of brown sandal deals that are about 10 years old that I consider my "good" shoes... meaning that they are not technically flip flops. I also own a couple questionable pairs of Berkinstock clogs that Doug calls my "pregnant" shoes. I think I'll wear the sandal deals - they are the least gross. I'll check out the other girls and see if I can get away with my favorite brown flip flops from Target.

Why are shoes so important, anyway? I have spent the last 14 years almost entirely at home, and almost entirely barefoot and pregnant. And I liked it. I feel totally out of my element. I am old - the people *mostly in the office are young! So young, some of them were born in the 80's! When I was in high school. I don't know how to be the older person. I don't know how to not be in charge. I don't know how to not be the mom, or the teacher. Or the wife. I don't even know exactly what I'll be doing - so what if I suck at it?

What's in a name? That which we call a rose...

2011-05-06T16:21:00.000-04:00

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

Origin of the name Megan: Borrowed from the Welsh, Megan is a pet form of Marged,

the Welsh cognate of Margaret (a pearl).

Four generations - four Megans

We have an odd little tradition in my family. The first daughter of the first daughter always carries her mother's name. I am the third in a line of four living Megans. My grandmother is the first - her name is Megan Ellis Probert. She took her maiden name as her middle name. When my mother was born, her name was also Megan Ellis Probert. When my mom got married she changed her name, as most women do, but she also changed her middle name - and she became Megan Probert Karcher. Of course when I was born my name was also Megan Probert Karcher (sometimes I miss the girl whose last name was Karcher, but that is a post for another day. You get the idea. When I got married (we're gonna skip the messy part, for simplicity's sake) I changed my name to Megan Karcher Jeffery, and so Meg's name is Megan Karcher Jeffery.

I kinda hated it when I was little. Anytime anyone asked me what my middle name was, I just didn't want to say. It was weird. All the other girls had regular middle names. Mostly "Marie" - it was the 70's - every other kid I knew was named Jennifer, and many of them and lots of others had the middle name "Marie" - my sister included! So, not only was "Megan" a weird name (it was, I swear!) but I had this odd middle name that no one knew how to pronounce. I even had one school nurse ask me repeatedly what my middle name was, she thought I was being stubborn or stupid and giving her my last name over and over.

When I was pregnant with Meg, I had still not gotten over my dislike of having the same name as my mom. It had caused confusion at school, at doctor's and dentist's offices, just about everywhere I went, it seemed. I knew my mom would want me to name her Megan..., and I just wasn't feeling it - at all. I wanted to name her Jenna Rose. Well, since I was a pregnant teenager living at home with my parents, I decided that I would go with what my mom wanted - and now, I am so glad I did. I am glad I have my name, and that we I gave it to my firstborn daughter. There is something familial and special about being "one of the Megan's". Family members would love it when we all happened to be sitting together; "Oh look! There are three Megans sitting on my couch right now!" There were, of course the names that helped define which Megan a person was looking for. I think I have mentioned the number system, Megan 1, Megan 2, and so on. But there were variations on the theme: Big Megan and Little Megan. I hated being called "Baby Megan". That nickname lasted with all my Karcher cousins until I was nearing puberty. I felt so WRONGED by it all! (Please pause a moment in your reading for pre-pubescent dramatic effect.)

But all in all, I feel an extra little connection to my mother and grandmother by being named for them. And proud to be named after both of these beautiful women. Each with her own strengths and abilities, they both have taught me so, so much. I think I have shared something lovely with my daughter, and no, I don't mean the crappy credit she will inherit because of my student loans - though she will probably have to deal with that (same name, same address, the credit folks don't bother to look any further).

Rose \r(o)-se\ as a girl's name is pronounced rohz. It is of Latin origin, and the meaning of Rose is "rose". Flower name. The name, which the Normans brought to Britain in the 11th century, can also be traced to the Old German words "hros" meaning "horse", or "hrod" meaning "fame, renown". The flower meaning is possibly more valid, given the Christian symbolic meaning of the rose. The "rosa mystica" is the Virgin Mary.

We have other names that pop up repeatedly in our family, too - this time on the Karcher side of things. My Grandma Karcher's name was Matilda Rose,(and she totally rocked) and so we have a plethora of "Rose"s. Each of her children has at least one child or grandchild named for my grandmother. Tricia Rose, Emily Rose, Leah Rose, Abbey Rose, Rebecca Rose, Mackenzie Rose, Annamarie Rose, am I missing anyone? And I am sure there will be a few more who come along. (I wish I had a picture of all these beautiful girls - making it a goal!)

Thomas \th(o)-mas\ as a boy's name is pronounced TAH-mas. It is of Aramaic origin, and the meaning of Thomas is "twin". Biblical: one of the 12 apostles known as "doubting Thomas" as he has an unusual mixture of pessimism and zealous faith. Some say his full name was Judas Thomas (Judas the Twin), and the nickname distinguished him from Judas Iscariot. The name has been popular since the 12th-century martyr Thomas à Becket. Other saints include Thomas Aquinas and Thomas More.

All have sandy hair and blue eyes - just like my dad as a kid!

My dad - my dad is fantastic. He is the kind of person you want your children to emulate. We all stand around and talk about how much this child or that one looks like Dad. Funnily enough, little Sam, who looks just like my dad, is named for his maternal grandfather(who happens to be amazing, so Sam is in good company with both looks and name!). But there are plenty of namesakes. Each of my sisters and brother have named a child after him, and my dad's nephew/godson has as well. And so we have my dad, the original Thomas, Thomas Geoffrey, Kolbe Thomas, Noah Thomas, Liam Thomas and Spencer Thomas. A bunch of lovely little boys named for the one of the finest men ever born. It's more than fitting, in my opinion.

Our Blessed Weekend

2011-05-05T17:13:00.000-04:00

Last weekend we were blessed with two momentous occasions. First, on Saturday, our daughter, Mackenzie Rose, was confirmed. She chose Saint Gianna as her confirmation saint, because of her decision to save her child's life over her own. She wrote a report about St. Gianna a few years ago, as a homeschool assignment.

Saint Gianna Beretta Molla

by Mackenzie Rose Jeffery

Saint Gianna was born in Italy, and she was the tenth of nine children in her family. She was only three years old when her family moved to Bergamo, and then she grew up in Lombardy region of Italy. Gianna began to study medicine in Milan in 1942, and in 1949, she got a medical diploma and opened up her own office near her hometown, were she specialized in pediatrics.

    Gianna wanted to go live with her brother, a missionary priest in Brazil, where she was going to offer her medical experience in gynecology to poor women. But because of her chronic ill health, this was almost impossible to achieve. So she continued in her Practice in Italy.
       In 1954 Gianna met Pietro Molla, and they were soon married in September 1955. The couple had three children from the year 1956-1959. In 1961, Gianna was expecting another child. During the second month, Gianna developed a fibroma on her uterus. The Doctors gave her three choices to cure her:

1. Abortion, 2. A complete hysterectomy 3. Removal of the fibroma

     She chose the removal of the fibroma, and on April 21, 1962, Good Friday of that year, Gianna went to the hospital and gave birth to a happy, healthy Baby. However, Gianna continued to have pain and died 7 days after birth. Gianna was officially canonized as a Saint May 16, 2004. Her husband and last child, Gianna were present at her canonization. Her Feast day is April 28, and she is the patron saint of mothers, physicians, preborn children.

I love it when my kids find a saint who really speaks to their hearts. They are all named for saints, but when they find one whose story really speaks to them, you know it is something special. Mackenzie loves St. Gianna, and Blessed Kateri, as well. Liz has always loved St. Bernadette, and I think the fact that she came into the church at about the same age as Bernadette was when she first saw Our Lady of Lourdes is special to her. Meg has always, always loved St. Joan of Arc. She loved dressing up as Saint Joan for All Saints parties, loves that such a young woman, by the Grace and Hand of God, was able to help save her country. Kolbe has always, always loved the story of St. Maximillian Kolbe, but it will be interesting to see if that is who he chooses when it is time for his Confirmation!

Saturday night, our family assembled at church to watch Mackenzie be confirmed in the Catholic faith, with Meg as her sponsor, and both her godparents present to support her. My sisters and brother and parents were all there to congratulate her and tell her how proud they are of her. We were rushed along to get photos with the Bishop, so this was the only shot I was able to get, Mackenzie with her godparents, cousin Jaimie and Uncle Geoff. (I need some sort of photo editing software! This needs cropped!)

Kenzie and two of her favorite people, Abbey and Becca

Kolbe and his godparents cousin David and cousin Stacy

Jonah (alterboy) lighting Kolbe's candle

Sunday afternoon we all gathered at church once again to celebrate our Kolbe Thomas' First Holy Communion. This is always a big deal in the Catholic faith, but for this child, it was an even bigger deal. He seems to have an understanding and desire for the Eucharist that is uncommon among such young children. He has literally been counting down the days, and he did not take one thing about his preparation for this sacrament lightly. He was so nervous! He wanted everything to be just right, and it was. He did beautifully. He didn't forget a single thing. I am so happy for him!

We were so blessed that family traveled from near and far to celebrate with us. We had a big dinner after Kolbe's Mass for both events. So we ate and opened gifts and had cake. There must always be cake, apparently!

cookies from www.kariskitchen.com Yum!

Kenzie's best friend, Becca was also Confirmed at the same Mass, so our families celebrated together! Becca chose St.Rita as her Confirmation saint. Becca's family has been like our very own family. She and her sisters have grown up with my kids, especially my girls, and they have been friends for years and years. I love that my daughters have such lovely girls to grow up with. It's been a huge blessing to us.

Our church family has provided dear, dear friends, and for that I have always been very thankful.

So, our weekend was full of many blessings, a little chaos, lots of love, and plenty of cake to go around. I won't have any children making sacraments for a couple of years now, and it will be nice to have a break, but when all the planning and food preparation and all of that is taken care of, it is wonderful to look around and see the faces of so many people whom I love so much. I am thankful that they all came and shared the weekend with us!

Kid Quirks

2011-05-04T02:15:00.000-04:00

Everyone loves to hear about your kids' quirks, right? I mean, they are just as cute and funny to the guy at the desk next to you, as they are to you! Right? Right!
Well,we are raising a pack of little weirdos, this is just the tip of the ice burg, ya'll...

1. Meg (now 20!) never wears matching socks. Ever. This started in second grade when they were having a mismatch day at school, and has never stopped. At first she just liked the silly aspect, but now she does it for the silliness, and sheer laziness. Or maybe she thinks it helps camouflage her strange, tree frog-like toes.
2. Caleb is inconsolable if he is not wearing long pants and long sleeves. He will moan and whine until you put long sleeves on, even if it is warm, but he will NOT tolerate socks or shoes. Weirdo.

3. Benjamin loves graham crackers and milk for a snack. Correction: Benjamin loves graham crackers IN milk for a snack. He crushes them up and puts them in the cup and eats the whole soggy mess like cereal.
4. Jonah sleeps folded up like an accordion. Legs folded up under his belly. When he's in bed he looks like a turtle under the covers.
5. Kolbe spends copious amounts of time perched like a hawk on a chest in our living room flapping his hands and making weird noises. No one knows what he is doing, but I think it is some kind of massive energy release. It's pretty funny, and he can't explain why he does it, but he does it daily.

6. Luke is our normal child. Except for the fact that he is head over heels in love with his cousin, Lauren. He refuses to believe that he can't marry her someday, and spends a goodly amount of time planning out attempts to sneak kisses from her, "Because I wuv her, Mom, I just wuv her!" And there's the fact that he likes to dress up as super heroes. Not just any superhero, but usually a conglomeration of his current faves. In this photo I think he was CaptainBatTouristAmericanCamperMan. Awesome.

7. Jenna erupts into an evil giggle out of the blue every so often. She never knows why, or won't tell you, but believe me when I say it's weird, and a little creepy.
8. I've been wracking my brain to think of something quirky about Kenzie, but she's pretty normal, which I am sure she will take great offense to, so I will have to come up with something -

To Be Both Catholic and American

2011-05-02T22:59:00.001-04:00

Something I've debated in my own head from time to time. Being both Catholic and American just don't gel sometimes. Osama bin Laden's death has brought this to the forefront of my thinking today. I happened to see it come across Twitter last night, and shocked, wanting to verify, I went to FoxNews.com. They didn't have any information yet, just the banner at the top of the page announcing that the President was giving a late night television announcement. To be honest, I was terrified that there had been another terrorist attack, or some of our troops had taken such heavy losses that he felt he needed to make a special announcement. That maybe all the buzz on Twitter was just buzz created by some other, awful event.

To be totally truthful, when I heard about bin Laden, I was relieved. Then shocked that they had at last found him. Then proud. Then glad. Then, when seeing some of the people gathering places and actually celebrate, I felt uncomfortable, and had to stop and identify why this predictable reaction would make me uncomfortable.

I think it's only natural to have mixed emotions about such a huge event. Something that quite frankly, I think needed to happen the way it did. Not one to give props to the president often (he gives himself props often enough, in my opinion), I think it did show some forethought and planning and good handling of the situation. The 24 Navy Seals did attempt to take him alive into custody, he resisted, using his own wife as a shield, which is despicable, and in the end, was killed. He had been brought to justice at that point - and I am glad about that fact. The part I am uncomfortable with is the actual celebrating. Honestly, and I think this is because I am both a Catholic and an American, I am experiencing some culture clash within my own heart.

Because I am an American, and very patriotic, my heart is glad that a monster has been brought to justice. I think the method was just, the mission was just, and it needed to happen. His body was disposed of in a just and proper manner, in accordance with his faith. In my American opinion, perhaps more than he deserved. The burial at sea, where there can be no shrine or pilgrims, was just. I am proud of the way that was handled - it shows Americans understand basic human dignity even for those who showed no mercy for others. This I can wrap my Catholic heart around.

But the dancing in the streets? The chanting and celebrating? It gives me a moment or two of pause. How does this make us better as a nation? I can understand the need to take a moment, even appreciate what the death of Osama bin Laden means - justice. I hope that is what they are celebrating - justice, rather than death. I hope the celebrations would be the same even if he had been captured. I hope it is a sense of relief, rather than joy, that leads people to celebrate. And I hope they understand that he was only one man. There are others more than ready to take up where he left off. There will be calls now to bring our soldiers home. That the war is over, as the leader of Al Qeada is dead. I think this means we are safer. It does not mean we are safe, and for the time being, we may be in even more danger, as his followers have vowed their "revenge", incited even more, I am sure, by the clips of Americans celebrating.

I'm not sure that any of this even makes sense. So often, as a Catholic, I am called to be counter-cultural. I think this is truly one of those times. I am not at all, not one bit sad that bin Laden is dead. I don't think I need to be, as a Catholic. I think he met his just fate, the result of waging an unjust war against the US. He had to know it would happen one day. It has taken me all day, though, to feel as though I need to pray for the repose of his soul. To abandon the "let him rot in the fiery pit of hell" thoughts, and turn instead to what Christ would have wanted. I think, in my belief, at least, that he is in a moment of reckoning. Christ would not want even one of his lost sheep to face hell, though we know the "fall like snow flakes into hell". Does this man's fate burden Him? I am sure it does. His hatred for Christianity not withstanding, I am sure that the Lord wanted him for His Kingdom. Just as He wants all of us.

So, I have waged an internal war within my own heart today. Part of me thinking "Who are you?! Some bleeding heart liberal??!! Sympathy for a mass murderer who hated all you hold dear?!" To the other half of my soul thinking quite simply, "I am called to pray for this soul. I don't have to be sad that he died, but I have to pray for his soul."

You would think by the time I hit 40, I would know how I feel about things, wouldn't you? I have these same questions about capital punishment, of course, just as many Catholics do. I hold to the church's teaching, that it is not for man to decide - but it's hard. I am an American - I think justice should be served. I think it was in this instance, and now, I need to pray for the soul of the man who finally paid for his actions and his hatred.

From the Vatican, Father Federico Lombardi, said in a brief statement this morning. Here is an English translation of his statement:

Osama bin Laden, as we all know, bore the most serious responsibility for spreading divisions and hatred among populations, causing the deaths of innumerable people, and manipulating religions for this purpose.
In the face of a man’s death, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibilities of each person before God and before men, and hopes and works so that every event may be the occasion for the further growth of peace and not of hatred.

Happy Easter!

2011-04-24T03:06:00.002-04:00

Real post very soon - I just wanted to pop in and say Happy Easter - things have been crazy in this house, getting ready for big family parties and sacraments, and everything - no time for computer, sadly. Good, too, in a way. We spend WAY too much time on the computer!
Until later then -

Have a Blessed Easter, everyone!

Please Pray for a Miracle for Sweet Regina Sweeney

2011-04-20T01:39:00.001-04:00

An update - I am so sorry to say that little Regina passed away a while ago. More info is on the FB page.

Lord God, ever caring and gentle,

we commit to your love this little one,

quickened to life for so short a time.

Enfold her in eternal life.

We pray for her parents

who are saddened by the loss of their child.

Give them courage

and help them in their pain and grief.

May they all meet one day

in the joy and peace of your kingdom. Amen.

A little while ago I posted a request for prayers for my son, Jonah, who is having some severe and undiagnosed leg pain. I mentioned that I knew it could be so much worse. I have been keeping this little girl, Regina Sweeney in my prayers for a couple of weeks now, ever since I heard her situation. She's 11 years old, something happened to her lungs through an incredibly bad bout of influenza. It's as if they are being destroyed. The doctors told her parents that there is no more they can do for her, so my friends and fellow prayer warriors, it is time to beg heaven for a miracle for this little one. Please, please join me in prayer for this little child.As her mother says constantly, Jesus, I trust in you!

St. Gerard, who, like the Savior, loved children so tenderly and by your prayers freed many from disease and even death, listen to us who are pleading for our sick child. We thank God for the great gift of our son (daughter) and ask him to restore our child to health if such be his holy will. This favor, we beg of you through your love for all children and mothers. Amen.

Almighty and eternal God, you are the everlasting health of those who believe in you. Hear us for your sick daughter, Regina, for whom we implore the aid of your tender mercy, that being restored to bodily health, he may give thanks to you in your church. Through Christ our Lord.

He's on my heart right now

2011-04-19T21:19:00.000-04:00

I have a little boy. He is actually starting to be a rather big boy, but to me he is just a little guy. My Jonah is 12 years old, and so far, has had a good bit to deal with, health wise. I know it could be so much worse, but a seizure disorder, along with some major dental work due to his medication, and now, he is having some sort of leg pain.
I took him to our doctor, and she pretty much ruled out growing pains. I know this isn't growing pains. We have nine kids, I have seen my share of growing pains. This pain is so intense that his legs often sort of buckle under him. He is in a lot of pain in the morning, and has been taking ibuprofen to help with it, but it is with him all day.
This has been going on for about a month. But my Jonah, who has been through so much, has barely complained. He has mentioned it a time or two, but he doesn't whine about it. He just goes about his day, and occasionally winces as he moves around. Watching him breaks my heart. He's such a trooper. We're going to get this figured out, but until it happens I am going to be nervous. I have been successful so far in avoiding Dr. Google. I know it will just scare me with things I don't have the strength to consider at the moment. Our doctor sent out blood work, and his neurologist is following it just to see if he needs to be referred to yet another specialist.
I hope and pray that I am being paranoid with my worry. I was praying for him and thinking about him during Mass on Sunday, and I had a sort of paralyzing fear come over me. I hope that this is just some manifestation of my general paranoia where this child is concerned. He is basically a healthy kid, who happens to have a seizure disorder, and takes meds to control the seizures. I have no reason to think this is anything major, but if I could ask for your prayers and good thoughts on his behalf, I would be grateful. I can't seem to shake the worry, and I have been busy telling myself that it is just because he has been through so much, and I never take this child's health lightly.
I used to be the kind of mom who didn't feel compelled to run to the doctor for every little thing. My Meg was pretty healthy, outside a some ear infections as a toddler. Then came Kenzie and her heart problems. Then Jonah and his seizures. When Jenna was born healthy and didn't end up in the NICU, I couldn't believe how blessed we were. I thanked God over and over for letting her be born healthy. Kolbe, Luke and Ben had uneventful births, though they all had medical issues of one kind or another later. Then my Yeb was born and had to be transported to a NICU in another town. All in all, 3of the 9 have been in the NICU, 7 of the 9 have required some sort of surgery. All have had some fairly major health issues requiring treatment, so I guess my paranoia is not so much paranoia as a "What's next?!" kind of attitude/fear. ( I tease my husband that we had better not check too carefully into our family history, with all the health issues, we are probably some kind of cousins. Kidding of course, but c'mon already!) But for some reason, Jonah is different. He has had more to deal with than the others. Through everything, he has always been great. Our dentist claims he is his favorite patient because he is good as gold for everything, tooth extractions, root canals, everything (his meds make his teeth decay), and is as sweet as they come.

So tonight my sweet Jonah is on my heart and in my prayers. I pray for his general well being, and that his pain is something treatable or something silly I have not thought of, and can be alleviated. I put my son's care and health into the Hands of the Lord. I know he truly belongs to Him, and that He will provide for my sweet son. I will also pray to Our Lady, she has been a special intercessor for me and my Jonah many other times, and I know she will take my prayers to her Son. She has protected and cared for this boy before, and I trust that she always will.

Preparation

2011-04-14T00:50:00.000-04:00

I was talking to my sweet cousin Suzy via Facebook chat last night. She and I both have a child preparing for First Holy Communion this Spring. She asked me if I had started my cooking yet for the celebration after the Mass. Ummm...no. She of course, being Suzy; industrious, never let your hands be idle Suzy, had started cleaning and cooking for the upcoming day and already had stuff in the freezer. Me? Zilch. Zero. Oh, wait, I ordered the cake - does that count? I have also planned the menu and started making a list in my head - does that count? And I had Kenzie start cleaning out my kitchen cupboards. I think she got three of them done the other day. You can't tell anymore that anything had been done to them, either. Such is life with a 2 year old who puts things in all the wrong places and is just...messy. I found a yogurt container in a basket of laundry that was brand clean - now it's a sticky mess! - I think he's out to destroy me.

Anyway, we have about 10 rooms that need a thorough scrub down. Not to mention my rather ambitious menu. Why can't I let myself order out and forget about it? I also have a myriad of other things to do before all the sacrament stuff the last weekend of this month. Jonah is serving so many Masses for the rest of the month, including the Easter Vigil, Easter morning, the Confirmation Mass (with Bishop Conlon!) and the First Communion Mass. So, I had to buy him shoes. I wasn't about to let him serve Mass for the bishop in ratty shoes! Jenna and Kenzie are singing for all of those same Masses. We also are hosting Easter dinner for Doug's side of the family. Before that, we have Meg's choir concert and a birthday party. After Easter, my three middle kids have to spend a week doing standardized testing at a church 20 minutes away. When, exactly, do I think I am going to do all this cooking and cleaning? Anyone out there want to volunteer to help? I need an Alice. Remember her? Always cheerful and kept the Brady Bunch house running smoothly so Mrs. Brady could soothe Jan's hurt feelings and figure out why Bobby was telling lies? Where is Alice when I need her?!

So, any of you ladies have any cleaning and organizing tips or tricks? My plea to Oprah went unanswered, so I guess that means I am going to have to get this place whipped into shape by myself, and it's not looking good. I mean, I don't know if this is something ingrained in me by my mother, or what, but if you have a priest coming for dinner, your house needs to be pretty much spotless. You don't want him dropping his keys in the couch, moving a cushion to retrieve them and pulling out Popsicle sticks or stinky socks, or broken crayons, or Please God, No! ~~a dirty diaper~~ an old apple core. (Aren't you all just dying to come to dinner now?)

But, we have some of the most important preparations already complete. My Kenzie, who is being Confirmed, has a sweet dress and shoes. She has finished all of her Confirmation work, and is ready. Kolbe and I found a suit, and he has learned his prayers, and his form for Communion. He is so looking forward to it - it's a day he has waited for a long time! I love how excited he is! I have my small gifts for my parish school of religion class - they are being Confirmed, Kenzie is in my class. I need to find a gift for my Kolbe, and I want it to be meaningful, because he has so looked forward to this day. What a blessing these two sweet, beautiful children are. Both have a tremendous love for the Lord that I try to imitate, rather than the other way around. Their love and faith is as yet completely unquestioning. Blind faith - what a gift. If only I could make sure they keep in all their lives!

Surrender

2011-04-10T02:25:00.000-04:00

Surrendering yourself. It's awfully hard sometimes, isn't it? It's an interesting phase of life I am in. I have older children, middle children and little bitty children. I have college students and potty trainers. We have dorm rooms and cribs. Ramen noodles and nurser. And everything in between. I find myself often feeling a little sad that we are wrapping up our years with little ones. I wonder if I will ever feel as though I've had enough of it? I chase and tickle and love on my baby (who is nearly two) and think to myself, "Wow, I have never gone this long without a pregnancy." and am sad and relieved at the same time. So, I surrender myself to the moment, and enjoy his giggles of glee while I flip him over my head, or chase him through a room. And I think back to when he was just a wee little one. I think back to when they all were wee tiny. The smell of that newborn baby. They way they curve against my body. The waking in the night to nurse and whisper and cuddle. The way the oxytocin just courses through me and I fall in love over and over, and praise God, and thank Him again for the gift of a child. How can anyone feel they have had their fill of that?

I have been a nursing mama for over 14 years, consecutively. I nursed my oldest, too, so I could add her on, but I think the 14 years is enough. I have loved nursing my babies. I am still nursing my last baby, and am not quite ready to give up the last vestiges of our nursing relationship. Once the nursing is gone, he will be a little boy, not a baby anymore. I need him to be my baby for just a little while longer.

Nursing is the one area of motherhood that has come so easily to me. I have always felt so blessed about that, and I admit to having some rather adamant feelings on breastfeeding. This is one area where I am in complete surrender to my child. When I have a newborn, I know I am going to be spending a lot of time in a chair with that baby. I surrender myself to the needs of that baby. And I love every minute of it. Such a sweet, lovely way to begin a life long love, don't you think? I really don't think about much else during that time. I surrender that time period to that baby. We establish a great nursing relationship that way. So important in the beginning of a nursing relationship anyway - so we sit, and I sigh, and do my very best to memorize the features and the sounds and the way I feel about that baby. I miss this kind of surrender a lot.

Surrendering can be so hard to do. I would love to do nothing more than surrender myself to this houseful of little boys, and my girls. I would love to paint nails and braid hair, play cars and make cookies and even organize toys. Wouldn't life be so simple if that was all there were to it? But there is so much more. So many obligations to family, school, church, work. So, I have to dig deep and find surrender in other areas of my heart. Maybe I should call it perseverance, rather than surrender? But it feels like surrender a lot of days, doesn't it? But surrender sounds like whining, when I have been so profoundly blessed. So, persevere I will, even when I long to surrender to little boys who want to play, or tickle, or chase. Balance, perseverance, and a little bit of surrender - how do I find that? If you have got the recipe for that one, would you mind sending it along to me?

One of Those Moments I was Talking About...

2011-04-07T16:00:00.001-04:00

Teachable moments. They have been consuming my thoughts lately as we try to wrap up this school year and start contemplating the next.

In my heart of hearts, I know I am a teacher. Some things come easily to me, and teaching is one of them. It's ironic that this year, when we have accomplished so much, I feel as though I have taught so little. I have been yearning for the sweetness of sharing something precious with my children. In this new school we are doing, I don't have time to teach them the simple sweetness of Anne of Green Gables. I haven't had the time to do trips the library as I would like, and we haven't done the cooking and baking and other "family" activities that I think are just as important as math and science. I want to give certain things to my kids. A love of reading is so much a part of me, and I want that for them, too. The ability to travel through time and space inside the pages of a book is a treasure. I want them to know the great stories. I want them to feel connected to the past through great literature and accurate histories.

So, I decided to take a moment. On one of our few and far between library trips I happened upon a book called Hana's Suitcase. It is the true story of a little girl from Czechoslovakia whose family was taken away, person by person, by the Gestapo until one day, she and her brother were also deported to first a Ghetto, and then, Auschwitz.

I have always studied the Holocaust. It is a part of history that frightens me to my very core. I cannot understand or wrap my mind around what was happening in Germany - all of Europe, really, that could lead to such evil. I fascinates and terrifies me. I also feel somewhat tied to it, for a number of reasons. One of them, and probably the most compelling for me, personally, was meeting several ladies who were survivors of the Holocaust. I used to work at our local Jewish Community Center. First as a receptionist, and later, in the child care department. These little ladies would come once a week to play cards in one of the rooms. I noticed that they had numbers tattooed into the skin on their forearms. I never asked them personally about it, but I did ask one of the women I worked with, and she shared what she knew of their stories.

Another thing that implored me to learn more was the stories my grandfather shared with my brother and I. You see, he was among the American troops that liberated Dachau at the end of the war. He spoke of the stench from rotting bodies, left unburied. He spoke about the heartbreak of the soldiers who were forced to bury them in mass graves before disease broke out. He spoke of the survivors, the horror they had been through and how they looked more dead than alive - skin and bones and despair. He also told us how they gathered enough strength to cheer when they saw help - the Americans - coming, once they realized what was happening. All this spoken so quietly, because he didn't really want to speak of it at all. I can't remember why he told us - maybe my brother remembers. I think maybe he wanted us to know.

So, I piled my four middle kids on the couch to listen to Hana's story. It was sort of a mystery. Her suitcase had been sent to the curator of a Japanese museum. Fumiko, the curator, had written to one of the German Holocaust museums, requesting some items for her display. The story flashes back and forth in time - Hana's time, and Fumiko's. Fumiko and her students are intrigued by the suitcase when it arrives, and want to learn more about the owner. This set is motion a search that took two hears and several continents of travel to unravel.

My children listened. They were transfixed by the story. They wanted to see all the pictures of Hana and Fumiko. They didn't want to go to bed before finding out what happened to Hana. They were touched by her story, and as soon as I had finished the book, they were hopping on Google to learn more. They were asking me questions and begging me to come look at pictures they had found of Hana's brother, George. I had my moment. They learned. They were touched by the lives of those who had come before them. They had heard the horror of the story, and been scared for Hana's and George's fate. They were sad, and in the end, wanted to know more. Kolbe already knew some bit of the history of the Holocaust, as he is named for St.Maximilian Kolbe, a priest who died as a martyr at Auschwitz.

And as I had hoped, they learned a little bit of history. A little bit of what is in my heart, as well. Does a teacher ever ask for more? If you haven't yet read Hana's Suitcase, I highly recommend it. It is very well written, and it shows how a young woman in Japan can teach children all over the world about a little Jewish girl from Czechoslovachia who lived 60 years before.

Teachable Moments

2011-04-07T00:24:00.000-04:00

Homeschooling has always been a struggle for me. I'm not sure I was cut out for it. The amount of work and planning, the details, the level of devotion needed - I just really never wanted all of it. What I wanted from homeschooling was the moments. The joy of having the children home to learn to cook, and sew and do art with their dad. I had this pretty picture, you see. It was going to be lovely. I would teach them to read and write. They would love literature and poetry and social studies. History would give them goosebumps and somehow math and science would be dealt with. We would go on field trips and they would pick apples in the orchard and strawberries in the fields. We would go to daily Mass at least once a week.

Fast forward to real life. Math is hard. Science is hard. I don't know what a nominitive noun is. I comma splice like a madwoman. We have only once ever made it to a daily Mass, and that was years ago. We have way more fun hanging out and goofing off than we do doing school. I can't get them to read what I want them to read, and managing several students in the higher grades is just...hard. So, we leave our sweet Mother of Divine Grace curricula that we haven't really been doing much of behind in search of something more structured, something where I have to answer to someone just so things are getting done. We enrolled in an online school. For the first few months we were slavish about getting school done. We were in the school room for 8 or 9 hours a day. By the time Christmas got here, we were DONE. Fried. Over. It took a long time to want to get back to it, but we did, at a somewhat more relaxed pace. Trying to find the middle ground. But, the joy in learning together is all but absent. We are learning. In fact, we have done more school this year than we EVER have before. That's a victory. But, it has come at a price. We don't have any joyful discoveries. There isn't time. There is poetry, but we rush through it because we 700 more lessons to do before we can stop for the day. There is literature, the good stuff, too. But I don't get to snuggle on the couch and read it to all of them, because the other kids all have their own, separate lessons to do.

So, I have decided to take some of it back. I don't know how to work it all out for next year, but there has to be some balance. We need the joy back. We need the reading, the praying, the learning back. If I am going to teach my children at home, I want the moments! I want the recognition of a new idea. I want the goosebumps of history and the thrill of creating amazing pieces of art with Dad.

So what is in store for next year? I am not sure yet. I know we will be home, I know we will be better than this year, and far better than the years before. I think we are going to have to find something that gives me the moments back. I miss them.

Benjamin, the little Darling

2011-03-29T23:48:00.000-04:00

The last few days with my darling Benjamin have been interesting. He has been combative, angry, aggressive and just plain creepy. In response to his crying, outbursts and crank, I have been combative, angry and just plain creepy. Of this, I am not proud. I'm not exactly going for mother of the year or anything, but I should be able to parent a difficult child without becoming one myself. Benjamin lost it today, hurting Kenzie on purpose, and screeching at the top of his lungs. To correct this behavior, I screamed at him, and told him he was not being nice in a very mean, yellish voice and plopped his little brat self in time out. Where I promptly forgot about him. He fell asleep on the steps (our time-out spot).

Later he was pulling the same stuff. He flung Luke's Apples to Apples game all over for the second time in two days. More screaming, more time in time out. He finally was so screechy and horrible, refusing to eat his dinner and telling me "I hate your stupid dinner!", that I just picked him up, and made him walk up the stairs to his room, put him on the bed, and closed the door. I didn't go back up after him, either. When I put the other two to bed an hour later, he was asleep. Good. I was done with the little creepy guy for the day. Hopefully he will wake up in the morning in a much better mood.

Benjamin is a little bit of a challenge. He can go from super sweet, extra lovey and wonderful to mean, aggressive and screaming in 2.3 seconds. I used to worry that he was extra aggressive - that something more was going on with him. I even called Dr. Ray, a Catholic family psychologist, who sort of laughed at my fears. Ben used to be a biter, the kind that went for blood. Scary when you are the victim! Honestly, the kid is three years old, and we were able to "love" away most, probably 90% of his bad behaviors. We just loved him, showered him with attention, snuggled him. Explained to him that he was hurting people, and yes, we did show him how bad it hurts when he bites by gently, but with enough force to get the point across, biting him back. This all seems to work well with Ben, and yeah, we reduced his bad behaviors and meanness by about 90%.
But, he was back to the old Ben today, and I am not sure why. I know he woke in the night, and was probably extra tired. He wanted me to hold him just as I was lifting the spaghetti pot with boiling water off the stove, and had to have another kid remove him so he wouldn't get burned, and that threw him into a tizzy. Time out again.
We all know that telling Ben "no" might trigger a fit. Most of the time, he's okay. But it happens. I know he is little yet, but in the last couple of days I have seen an escalation that makes me nervous, and I didn't do a darn thing to help it today. It was just a bad day. Ben woke up just as I was climbing in bed at 3am, and woke the baby. Ben went back to sleep, but the baby really never did. So, we were up all night, with just a few snatches of sleep between 3am and 8am. Ugh. Didn't help me keep my calm with Benny. So, we had a bad day. We'll start again tomorrow.

It never ceases to amaze me - the way God built the parent/child relationship. He makes the children so soft, with big, shining eyes, and sweet, plump cheeks. He made the parents heart vulnerable to these traits. I have a hard time, many times, being the strict disciplinarian. I want to love and cuddle, but so many times lately, this little guy needs a calm momma who can make him listen and obey. Most of all, teach him to calm himself in the middle of one of his more aggressive fits. I know he knows I love him. I know that when he wakes up in the morning, he will have mostly forgotten our angry words today, but I will know I did not do my best with him today, so I will have to work on being calmer tomorrow. Being kinder, especially when he is his worst self. Say a prayer for us, will you? No matter how many children you have, each one has some aspect to their personality that will throw you for a loop. Ben's are startling intelligence, and a little too much anger and stubbornness.

Prayer of Mothers
Father in heaven,
grant me the grace to appreciate the dignity
which you have conferred on me.
Let me realize that not even the Angels
have been blessed with such a privilege—
to share in your creative miracle
and bring new Saints to heaven.
Make me a good mother to all my children
after the example of Mary,
the Mother of your Son.
Through the intercession of Jesus and Mary
I ask your continued blessings on my family.
Let us all be dedicated to your service on earth
and attain the eternal happiness of your kingdom in heaven.

Deliciousness With A Three Year Old

2011-03-25T00:53:00.002-04:00

Little hands, helping me pour flour into the mixing bowl. A little voice asking 17 times if he can stir next. Cracking eggs into the bowl, and me fishing out all the tiny pieces of shell he gets in the dough. A scoop of raisins and a handful of pecans. All the perfect ingredients to make the best oatmeal cookies...ever.
My little Benji loves cookies. "Tookies", as he calls them, and begs me to make them almost everyday. He usually wants to "holp", too. Many times I sigh with impatience and just want to whip them up and get the mess cleaned up. But this time, I remembered my wish to spend some time with these little ones. So, we washed his hands, and pulled a chair up, close to the counter. He helped me measure and pour. He scooped oatmeal, dumping more on the counter than in the bowl. He packed brown sugar, and then licked his hand, compelling me to wash them once more. He cracked eggs all over the counter, and got shells in the dough. He smelled the vanilla, getting some on his nose. He ate as many raisins as we put in, and then, he leaned over to me, kissed me on the shoulder and said "Mama, you are the sweet cooker lady." And I melted into the floor and vowed to make cookies with him everyday until I died.

Here is a recipe for the Best Oatmeal Raisin Cookies Ever, minus the Benjamin germs:

3 Eggs - beaten                     1 tsp. salt
1 Cup raisins                         1 tsp. cinnamon
1 Cup craisins                       2 tsp. baking soda
1 Cup chopped dates            1 tsp. orange zest (super important!)
1 Cup butter                         1 Tbls. good vanilla
1 Cup brown sugar
1 Cup chopped pecans
1 Cup sugar
2 1/2 Cups flour
2 Cups rolled oats

As usual, mix all your wet ingredients, and then all your dry, and add to the wet. Add the fruits and nuts at the end. Scoop into large 1 Tablespoon scoops, Bake @ 350degrees for 10-12 minutes. You won't be sorry. You will wonder where these cookies have been all your life.
Of course, feel free to switch up the pecans for walnuts and leave out the craisins or dates or both, but don't - really! The craisins give a little tartness, and the dates just give a nice sweet chewiness. I have also done just craisins and white chocolate chips in this cookie - yummy!
These cookies are lovely - my grandmother, who is an oatmeal raisin cookie connoisseur, loved them!

Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies - as seen in the photo:(mine) and adapted from a recipe in Inn Good Taste by George and Katie Hoy from the Inn at Brandywine Falls.
2 Cups butter                           5 Cups pulverized oatmeal (stick it in a food processor)
2 Cups sugar                            1 tsp. salt
2 Cups brown sugar                 2 tsp. baking soda
4 eggs                                      24 oz. chocolate chips
2 tsps. vanilla                            1 finely grated 7 oz. Hershey bar
2 cups flour                              3 Cups chopped walnuts ( I used pecans - walnuts=blech)
Instructions:
Cream together the butter and sugars, add in the rest of the wet. Mix the dry together in another bowl, and then slowly add to the wet, mixing as you go. Mix in nuts and chocolate. Shape dough into golf ball size, Squish slightly, place on cookie sheet and bake @350 for 8 minutes. Don't over bake!
I don't make them sooo big, I use a large scoop instead. And this is a HUGE recipe! If you normally double or triple, don't bother, you will have plenty!

Silly Benny

This little Benjamin (who graces the top of my blog as a newborn) doesn't ask for anything (yet), but a story read, or to bake some "tookies". He can be challenging, and even a little mean sometimes, but if you sit with him, cuddle him for a bit, he is just pure love. He still says things like "tootsie wootsies" but tells me he is not "wittle" he is big! His favorite game in the world, which we have been playing since he was just a tiny little guy, is the "sleeping game". He climbs up in my lap, and we both pretend to sleep, fake snoring away. One of us will yell "Wake Up!"and the other will pretend to be startled from sleep. Then we say "Oh, sorry! Go back to sleep!" and play it over and over again. This game is played everyday. It's the silliest thing, but he just loves it. I can't remember if I played it with other babies, or if it is just our special thing.

My Benjamin also loves to play "Benny Sandwich". Anytime he sees his daddy and me hugging, he comes up and tries to get between us. We pick him up, and squish him between us, both kissing his little cheeks. He loves being our Benny sandwich, but pretends to be very annoyed. It's not hard to spend time with this guy, and he's pretty easy on the eyes. But I need to remember that he needs these early experiences, too. Baking, going to the store, helping dad with little jobs. Just because we have done them with the older kids, doesn't mean we can forget them with these little guys. So, we bake, we play, and we even venture into stores, the library, the zoo, the park. Make a memory or two, and never pass up the opportunity to spend a little time.

Time Well Spent

2011-03-24T00:44:00.000-04:00

I know, enough with the cliched titles already, right? I'm going to have to work on that. One of the goals I set when approaching 40, was to spend some time with each of my kids. I have had the opportunity lately, to get to spend some actual chunks of time with a few of them in the last couple of weeks.

My Jenna and I took off for the afternoon a week or so ago. We headed to Chipotle for lunch and then a little shopping. I asked my girl where she wanted to go for lunch, of course. Her response was "Taco Bell!". So, I thought I would do her one better, and take her to Chipotle, thinking she would just love it. It's kind of a cool place, you can choose what you get in your taco or burrito, and it has a pretty hip atmosphere. All of this was lost on Jenna. She was too cold, the stool was too high, the music was too loud, and the food was too spicy. So much for Chipotle. She did not have fun, and she didn't eat anything. This almost always happens with my Jenna, though. She's a bit hard to please, and if you don't do what she wants to do, even if you are trying to make it even better, she's not going to like it. You'd think I would have learned this lesson by now, but, sadly, I have not. I have repeated this mistake a few times with her. Part of me thinks she should just decide to have fun. The other part of me reminds myself that I brought her out to have a good time, and should have just gone where she wanted to go.

Well, we made up for lunch by shopping at Justice 4 Girls. This was a big sacrifice on my part. I HATE that store. It's filled with cheap, glittery, over priced crap. Jenna LOVES it! She likes to be very little girl trendy, and this store is right up her ally. I have gone in and let her get a few things twice, exactly. And we buy off the clearance rack. No way are you getting me to spend $16 on a tank top. Yes, I am that cheap. I have too many bodies to clothe to waste money in a trendy shop just because. But, she was able to find a few things she really wanted. Jenna was happy, we used her 40% off coupon, and she came away with sparkly shoes and a little hoodie thing, and something else with glittery stuff all over it. I am still trying to figure out who this kid is. She is truly interested in fashion, even did a research paper on some French fashion designer from the 1800s, and yet she chooses to shop in this Justice store. I love the little weirdo.

After Justice the real shopping started - Target! I love Target. I love the bright colors and the interesting stock. I love how cheap their cereal is and that I can buy gum and sneakers in the same store. I love that the Up&Up store brand is cheaper, but just as good as name brands. And I love that I never have to wait very long in line. One person in ahead, tops. Somehow, I manage so spend nearly $200 in there on a bi-weekly basis. Don't even ask me what I buy. I really have no idea. It just accumulates. I go in with a list, and come out with everything on the list, and about $75 worth of crap I didn't know I desperately needed. I love Target. My husband is somewhat less enthusiastic.

Kolbe and I were able to set off on a little adventure last week as well. He had to go take a standardized test for school, so we made an afternoon out of it. After his test, I asked him where he would like to go for lunch. This is my foodie child - so I thought he would pick someplace interesting, given that we live in an area that has more restaurants in 20 square miles than anywhere else in the country. Nope, my foodie child chose Wendy's. Yep. Not some cool new burger joint or the too expensive place we can't go when we have everyone with us. Nope, he picks our usual fast food of choice. Sometimes I forget he is only 8.

So, we sat in Wendy's and he had a kids meal, which I almost never let me kids order. With a frosty - he got the royal treatment, folks! One thing I love about this quiet, shy little boy, is that when he gets you all to himself he talks. And talks, and talks. So great! I finally get to know what is going on in his little brain. He tells me funny stories, and just cracks me up. Usually so serious, it was really fun to see him smile. He does tend to worry too much. He can't decide what to be when he grows up, and he lets it worry him. I keep telling him to just enjoy being a kid, but ever since he discovered that he is supposed to have a job when he grows up, it has been the main thing on his mind. As of this posting, he wants to be a priest, a restaurant owner, a dog trainer, and a paleontologist. I just want him to be a little boy.

After lunch we went to Kohl's to find a suit for his First Holy Communion. Happily, they were running a sale, and I had $30 in Kohl's cash. Nothing makes me happier than getting a good deal! He chose a dark grey suit and a shirt, tie and belt. Cash out of pocket for this $58.00. Mama was happy. Kolbe, who loves to dress up, was super happy. He can't wait to wear it!

Kohl's was followed by.... Target of course. My husband had called with a few items he needed, so we made our way across the parking. While we were in the store, I asked my Kolbe if he wanted to go look through the toy isle. He loves the Lego Hero Factory stuff, just like every other boy in a gazillion mile radius, it seems. I asked him which one he would like, and he responded with "I didn't bring my wallet, and I only have $3, anyways." I asked him again which one he wanted, and he was confused. My poor kid. We never, ever buy stuff just to buy it. He couldn't understand why I was asking, as he didn't have the money to buy it himself. Now, I don't want my kids spoiled, and I want them to appreciate what they have. That being said, I need to make a better effort to do small things, just every once in a while, just because of the joy it will bring my child. Especially a child like this who loves so much, worries so much, and thinks too much. Once he realized I wanted to buy it just to buy it, he was worried about the other kids. I told him to just enjoy it, and that they would get a turn sometime, too.

I love taking these moments with just one child. I like sitting across from them and learning a little bit I didn't know before. I like being able to listen with rapt attention to whatever they are saying. Half an hour. I need to to this more often, and get their dad doing it, too. You can learn a lot in an uninterrupted half hour.

I have one more story, but I'll save it for tomorrow, as this is already way too long. But, it involves deliciousness and an adorable three year old boy, so.... until tomorrow my friends, Awrevwar! Or in French, Au revoir!

Megan, Mom, Nain, SupaNain, Trouble....

2011-03-18T00:03:00.004-04:00

Megans #1 & #3 - At 90, still beautiful.

I know I already posted today, but I did not want to let a whole lot of time pass before I was able to wax poetic and get all emotional about my grandmother turning NINETY. NINE -OH. Ninety. If you've read here before, you probably know that my grandmother has had a downward spiral in the last year or so. Each member of our family has his or her own feelings about what is happening to her... I guess some of it is inevitable. Just part of aging. It's been hard for me to see her deteriorate. She used to be so full of spit and a bit of vinegar, definitely had some stories to tell. She's been through so much in her life, and we've always said we should write her stories down so they are not forgotten. I'd love to do a bit of that here, and if anyone else would like to leave a story or two she told you in the comments, that would be wonderful. Then we would have them, we would have a record.
I am having a hard time remembering the things she talked about, but I remember some of the things she lived through. Her parents were from Wales, they immigrated to this country a few years or so before she was born. She had four big brothers, two born in Wales. Her parents didn't speak English very well. She never spoke Welsh, but could understand it when it was spoken to her. She grew up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania during the Great Depression. Some of her brothers and her husband fought in WWII. My grandfather (Pop Pop) was among the US Army personnel that liberated Dachau, though he didn't like to talk about it, he did tell my brother and I some of the things he had seen there. After the Army, my grandfather was in the National Guard for 20 years, retiring a Lieutenant Colonel, so they were a military family and Nain raised my mom alone for the first year of her life.

Both of her sons were in the Army during the Vietnam War. My Uncle Donny was a paratrooper, and was awarded several medals, including a Silver Star, and a Purple Heart with Clusters. He was released from the Army with Commendations for his bravery. Her other son, Jeff, was in Thailand for much of the war, working as a code translator for the Army. My grandmother had to have had untold stores of strength to get through both sons being oversees, but much worse was to come.

In 1979, my Uncle Donny was killed in an accident. He was only 31 years old. In later years she would survive the deaths of all her brothers, their wives who were her best friends, and her husband. She had buried one son, and the other just drifted away. We haven't heard from him in almost 15 years. I know she carried that pain with her. Through the years, all of her friends passed away, one by one. I think she is the last one of her generation in our family.

Even after Pop-Pop died, she was very independent. She survived breast cancer, but only after having a double mastectomy. She eventually moved from PA to be closer to my mom and dad, but for years she made the 7 hour drive all by herself to come for visits. I know it had to be hard for her to leave Pennsylvania, and all that was comfortable and familiar.

Ninety years can hold an awful lot of life, can't it? So, we gathered. We celebrated. And, for the gazillionth time in a week, we ate cake.

We piled all the kids; big, medium and small, into an activities room at Nain's nursing home. Four generations, all starting with this one tiny woman. She LOVED it! She always loves being the Belle of the Ball, and this birthday was no different. She loved being sung to. She loved the presents, she loved the kids running around like maniacs, having been fed cake and no supper, yet. She had some rare moments of clarity. She seems to always know my mom, and Dani's little Squishy, but she told me to go get Aunt Sadie, who's been dead for 60 years, a piece of cake. I, of course, obliged. We told her how old she was and she thought she must be much older than merely ninety. A minute later she was protesting that she was only 17. (She was hit by a car at 17, and this age and event seems to stick in her head more than most.)

Overall, I think she had a good time. She wasn't ready to quit partying when a nurse came to get her! We tried, rather unsuccessfully to get a photo with Nain (or SupaNain, as all the great grands call her) and all the great grand children, but it wasn't to be. Meg had class, and a couple of them were rather uncooperative.

Amy, Pete and Nain

SupaNain and Baby Spencer

Nain, my mom and dad, Stacy, Amy, and babies

Kakers and Noodle - why do our nicknames so often revolve around food?

Biz and Wish

Well, we tried!

Happy Birthday, Nain. From you, all of this has come. You are the first of the Megan's, mother of three, grandmother of seven, great grandmother of at least 24! Quite a legacy, #1. Quite a legacy, indeed. I love you.

The Party Never Ends...

2011-03-17T14:07:00.000-04:00

I know this is Thursday already, but the weekend and this week have gone by in a whirlwind of parties, cupcakes, lunches, and more cake. Thankfully, I am not just talking about my birthday anymore, though my parents planned a lovely lunch for the whole family on Sunday.

The Bigger Boys

We all met after Mass on Sunday at our favorite Mexican restaurant. It was a little crazy, 21 kids and 10 adults crammed into one section of the restaurant. I didn't even our servers. We kept them hopping! I am pretty sure we munched through a dozen baskets of chips and a gallon of salsa before our food arrived. The kids had sat all the way through Mass, and many of them religious ed. before that, so they were a bit rowdy - but not too bad.

We ate and talked and yelled at Littles to sit down and be quiet. Then they - they being my sisters and brother - as had been prearranaged, decided to give a little summary of each of my decades, with my mom doing the last decade. This of course was funny, and sweet, and since my brother had the teen years, somewhat horrifying. He has a very long memory, at least when it comes to stuff I did wrong in my teen years. I was reminded of the mailbox massacre of the summer after I got my license. And the time I was stupid enough to put my sister in the trunk of the car because there was no room left in the actual car, I had packed it so full of passengers. I am pretty sure they said some nice stuff, too, but I was so consumed with guilt and horror over the bad things I had done as a teen, I can't remember what they were!
But, we laughed, I cried, we ate some cake. I looked around at the faces in the room with me, marveling at how our little family of six has blossomed into a big extended family with almost 33 members.

I love every single one of them! Thanks to all of them for making my birthday so special, and so easy!

Japan

2011-03-13T21:51:00.000-04:00

Japan -

A warning about scammers, and a couple of legit places to donate money to the people of Japan.

Count Down to 40 - It's Here!

2011-03-12T23:58:00.001-05:00

Today is the day. I turned 40 years old today. My darling husband went to great lengths to create a happy memory for my 40th birthday, and he succeeded - big time. All the sweet little details, all the lifelong loves and little stories he must have remembered to put together such a lovely birthday - I kinda like that guy. It doesn't hurt that he seems to like me back, and we have been enjoying that wonderful second honeymoon feeling for a long time now. Love ebbs and flows, and it is flowing right now, baby. And I am soaking up every second of it. He has somehow made my turning 40 feel like a new courtship. Like falling in love again - and not just for the last few days, it's been weeks. I mean, we are generally pretty happy souls to begin with - like minded and content. But lately - it's been hearts and flowers and rose colored glasses.

If you were here yesterday, you heard all about the lovely day he created for the day before I turned 40 - my last day in my 30s - and it was...just.. I don't even know how to put it, exactly. It was one surprise after another. And while I love all the sweets and treats - it was the effort and planning that it took to put it all together that just killed me. It was magical, and it made me feel like I was 26, and head over heels in love with the best guy in the world. I hope he knows how much I love and appreciate all he did.

Today was my actual birthday - the man didn't stop - I woke up to whole wheat french toast and strawberries. A healthy version of a lovely breakfast - thank goodness! After breakfast all my girls and I went to see a performance of Cinderella at the Canton Ballet. Meeting us there were; my sweet sister in law: Amy, my goddaughter, and all the nieces who were old enough to sit through it (We missed our Rhi-Rhi and Bananie- next year!), including Squishy, a.k.a. Lauren - my birthday buddy! She was born on my 35 birthday - best present I ever got! During the second half of the performance, my little nieces, 4 year old Jelly and 5 year old Squishy decided to come cuddle up in my lap. They were both getting tired, and wanted to be held. Amy wanted to take one of them, but I was reveling in the joy of those two little girls. Both happy to climb up into their auntie's lap to watch the rest of the show. They put their little heads together, and put their arms around each other. Not sisters, but cousins, these two. As I looked across the row in front of us, where the middle girls sat, I saw that the three of them had their heads together, watching intently. I say this all the time, but I am glad, grateful, and gratified that my children are growing up with their cousins. Its a wonder and a blessing.

As I watched the rest of the ballet, I just sat and absorbed the joy of sitting in a dark theatre with all my girls, and these sweet littles. I closed my eyes for a second, and smelled their little heads. Shampoo and lip gloss and other girly scents. I miss that so much, as my youngest girl is 10 (though she did let me do her hair today). I am so blessed to have these beautiful little girls I can grab for a cuddle and a sniff of the curious combination of baby shampoo and fruity lip gloss.

I came home to the arms of my beloved, and the sweet craziness of my boys. Tomorrow - after Mass - more partying - my parents have invited the whole clan out to lunch for my birthday - it'll be crazy - 21 kids, 10 adults, and a little celebrating to do. It's a grand way to start the 41st year of my life...with family.

A Nostalgic Tour of Treats

2011-03-11T23:24:00.001-05:00

This was my last day in my thirties. It was a great day, mostly because my sweet husband knows me so well, he made this day easy and fun. It started late last night with cannoli from a bakery in Little Italy. They were so good, we just had to wake up the girls to come have one with us!
My husband has been dragged all over several states in search of a good cannoli. I had my first taste of cannoli when I was 15. We were in Baltimore and I had gone somewhere with Uncle Mike, I can't even remember exactly where, some shopping area, and he bought me a cannoli. It was so delicious, and I have been trying to find one as good ever since. I think we may just have found it! So, so sweet of Douglas to think of it.

When we got up this morning it was school, lunch, and the usual. I was trying not to think too much about it being my last day in my 30s, which is absurd, really. Why on earth have I worried about this so much? I started making plans for the day, hollering at people to go where ever they needed to go, get on with the day, when I noticed that Doug was having all the children file into the dining room. I was on the phone making plans for the evening. I hung up, and Doug brought in a cake from Johnnie's Bakery, a famous, beloved bakery in Canton. He knows I love Johnnie's, for the simple fact that it is a Canton institution, and our family used to always get donuts there on Sunday mornings, and I love that memory. He and the parade of munchkins presented me with new earrings, two new books I have wanted, and last but not least (really not least at all!) a box of 40 chocolates from another Canton staple, Anastasiades. My sister and I, when we first got our liscenses, would run all over Canton and North Canton, often in search of some food or other, or just something to do. At the time, Anastasiades had an ice cream counter. We would go in for ice cream, but leave with chocolates. They are, hands down, the best chocolates in the area.Thank goodness there are lots of little people here to help me eat all these treats - I would be in big trouble without them!

We topped of this food extravaganza with a trip to the Spread Eagle Tavern in Hanoverton, Ohio. This place is full of historical charm and significance. It was part of the underground railroad, and has been a favorite stop for Republican campaign tours. Abraham Lincoln slept there! George W. Bush has eaten there, and so did his dad. For a political junkie and history lover, this was beyond fun. Not to mention the impeccable service and outstanding food. It was a great surprise and a lot of fun - I can't wait to go back!
As if all that weren't enough, my beloved topped off my last day in my 30s with a Kindle! Ah - to have all the world's greatest literary works at my fingertips! The man knows me so well! I am a sap. So, throw in some nostaligia, some yummy food, a little history and politics, and the ability to read anything I could ever want, any time I want. It doesn't get much better, as birthdays go!
Tomorrow, my actual birthday, will be a fun day, too. I am taking all my girls, my goddaughter and niece, and meeting my sister in law and her girls to go see a performance of Cinderella by the Canton Ballet. That and a visit to my grandmother should make for a lovely afternoon. Not a bad way to spend your first day in your 40s, right? I think it's going to be grand. I think 40 is going to be grand, too.

Noodle Kugel for...Lent?

2011-03-11T00:28:00.002-05:00

Years and years ago, I worked at our Jewish Community Center. I loved that job! I was a receptionist, preschool aid, day care giver, camp counselor and latch key care giver. It was a lot of fun, and I loved, loved, loved learning many of the traditions of the Jewish faith. They were so beautiful, and I often thought to myself if I weren't Catholic, I could whole heartedly become Jewish. Now, while I am not one to convert to another religion for the food, the food of the Jewish people might convince one to do so. Matzo ball soup, Kosher deli sammys, Hamantashen, Noodle Kugel - ah, the kugel. I still dream of it, so, I'm gonna make it!

Here's what you need:

1 large package of egg noodles
1/2 stick of melted butter
16 oz tub of cottage cheese
16 oz tub of sour cream
4 eggs, beaten
1/3 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. good vanilla
A little bit of milk or cream poured over the top - not in the original, but I like to do this with most noodle dishes - mac 'n cheese - keeps it nice and moist while it bakes. Not too much, you don't want to loose the custard consistency!

For the crunchy topping:

1 cup crushed cornflakes
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4-1/2 cup sugar

Instructions:

Cook your noodles - I tend to leave them just a little undone - less gummy later
In a large bowl, mix the noodles with all the other ingredients
Dump in all into a 9x13 pan (Pam it first!)
Mix your topping ingredients - I like to crush the cornflakes just a bit - and sprinkle them over the noodles
Bake the whole shebang for about an hour @350. Top should be brown and bubbly!

Wish I had a beautiful photo - but until the other day when I posted a recipe on Facebook, it had never occurred to be to take a photo of food! I guess I better get with it - but make this - super yummy! A lady named Freda taught me how to make this one time for a teacher's meeting at the JCC, and I really loved it. She even showed me how to work in a Kosher kitchen, which was really interesting, and hard! Kugel is comfort food, for sure. Meatless, but I know there are chicken versions that sound good, too. But for Lent, this is a nice one. Serve it with a more substantial green salad, and your good to go for lunch or dinner on Friday!

10 Things My Mother Taught Me...

2011-03-10T16:00:00.001-05:00

As I think back over some of my earlier posts, I am reminded of just how much my mother has taught me. As I approach 40, these things drift through my mind. I want to make sure I am living them, and teaching them to my children. So, here are 10 things my mother taught me, in no particular order.

Do for others. Whether it is as a Girl Scout leader, a room mother, a volunteer for Right To Life, band mom, grandmother, mother, daughter, or babysitter.
Always welcome people into your home, and to your table. I've written so many times about how my parents invited all of our friends in, everyone was welcome. My mom was a great cook, and she always made room at her table. "There's always room for one more!" was something she said all the time.
Look for the good in others. My mom used to tell me, when I was having a problem with someone in the neighborhood or at school, to always look for the good in others. "There is something good about everyone, you just have to find it!" she reminded me often.
Say your prayers. I can remember my mom teaching me to say my prayers, and then reminding me my whole life. I know she sometimes stops to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, and that brings her peace. I hope that I am teaching my children to have faith, the way she taught me to be faithful.
Love your husband. My mom always cautioned us girls to be on the look out for a man like our dad. She'd tell us that we would be hard pressed to find anyone nearly as good, but that we should try. I think everyone who knows them, knows of their devotion to each other. It's a beautiful thing. I hope that my children see the same when they look at their father and me. I hope my girls learn to look for a man like their dad, and Papa Tom.
Love your children. My parents loved us - there was no question. We never had to wonder. Both my mom and dad would do anything they could, and have, for their kids. They have been there through everything, rooting for us the whole time, and holding us up when we needed it.
Hold your babies. My mom told me when my first daughter was born, "Hold her, stare at her. The dishes will wait, but she will grow so fast, and you don't want to miss it." Because of my mom, I have held my babies. I have let the dishes sit, and stared. I will never, ever have to be sorry that I missed anything with them, because of all the things she has taught me, this one really impressed upon me how fleeting life in general is. So, I hold. I stare, and I try so hard to implant the image on my brain. I try to memorize the feel of that particular child in my arms, because I know it will only last but a second.
Be nice. My mom used to tell me all the time, "You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar." This has served me well through the years. When tensions get high, and people start slinging unkind words around, it helps to have something nice to say. It stops people in their tracks, reminds them that they are dealing with human beings, and helps defray the tension. It helped me so many times when I felt like being unkind, and remembered what she taught me.
Treasure your sisters and brother. My mom never had any sisters, but she was always so glad for us that we had each other. When I was younger, (and sometimes still), my youngest sister and I did not always get along. My mom would always tell me how lucky I was to have sisters, and that someday, she would be my best friend, and understand me when no one else could. How my mom knew this so well, I cannot say, but she is so, so right. Both of my sisters, and my sister-in-law are my very best friends. My mom had brothers, and has lost both of them. So, I treasure mine. He is one of the best people I know, and though he is a "little" brother, he looks out for me like a big brother would. My sisters and brother understand me so well. I ask their opinion before I make big decisions (and little ones, too). When I have a parenting, or more often, step parenting issue, I ask them for advice, knowing that they will never lead me astray. They are so much a part of me, I am actually glad I am the oldest, making it less likely I will ever have to live without them.
Believe you can do anything. My mom has always told me, "You can do anything you put your mind to.", even the hard things. Even things I didn't want to have to do. She has pushed us, believed in us, and helped us make things happen in our lives. From degrees, to building a business, to finding true love, she has always been our biggest cheerleader.

There are so many more, but these are the things I think of when I think of my mom. As I attempt to parent young adults, I hope that I have taught them all of these things. I hope they know I love them. I hope I have taught them to pray, and have faith in God. I hope they know I think they can do great things. I hope they have grown to love and appreciate their siblings. I hope I am teaching them all the things my mother taught me.

Lenten Season

2011-03-09T21:11:00.001-05:00

Ash Wednesday has always been among my favorite of the Christian/Catholic rituals. I can remember going to Mass as a child, and seeing all the kids in school with the black cross smudged on their foreheads for the rest of the day. I think I even went a time or two with my grandma, I don't remember when, I just remember the Mass, and seeing the church full of cousins and aunts and uncles, and everyone coming away with the ashes.

I took my eight to Mass this evening. I love cramming my family into an already full church. Seeing the people who have made a point to attend Mass, in nurses uniforms, suits, work boots and dusty shirts. I love thinking about their lives, and how we all made this effort to get to Mass on a busy Wednesday, how we all gathered with the Communion of Saints, for the Eucharist, and the distribution of ashes. Knowing that this is happening across the globe - that lifts me up, makes me feel like a part of this body of Christ.

My two oldest daughters had planned to go to Mass with us, then out to a movie. This didn't sit well with me, but I didn't stop them from going. It didn't sit well, because I felt that they were not getting the contemplative nature of the Mass. They were going because I wanted them to, because it was Ash Wednesday, and they just did. We talked about the ashes on the way to church, a little refresher for some, and an introduction to the littles who likely did not recall it from last year. My oldest said she was going to wash her face before they left, and I was again bothered by her attitude. She didn't want people looking at her with her ash smudged cross on her forehead. I tried to figure out how to explain to her that while we certainly don't wear the ashes as some sort of badge of honor, they are not to be disregarded, either. They are a reminder from whence we came, and where we shall return.

As I watched the people file out of Mass, I thought they were beautiful. Many of them tired from a long day at work or school, they all filed out of Mass, smiling, talking quietly. The ashes on their foreheads would be a reminder to all who see it that Lent begins today. That a period of reflection and prayer has begun. That the sacrifices we make will be to honor the sacrifice of Christ, not fodder for Facebook statuses.

As I looked down the row at my own children's faces, now smudged with the ashes, I thought about tradition, about faith, and about teaching them to quietly pray, contemplate, and prepare. They of course, spent a good bit of the last week talking about what they were giving up for Lent. Giving something up is nice, but when you have so much, is it really meaningful? I told them that giving something up was wonderful, but that they also needed to do something - say extra prayers, do a good deed. Give of themselves, rather than simply giving up pudding or chocolate.

As my family moves into the Lenten season, we are going to focus on why we do these things, as much as doing them, it's important for them to know why. As I feel my oldest slipping out and away from the faith, forgetting who and why, I feel the need to instill to a greater degree in the ones I still have here, under my watchful eye. I hope that as she matures, she will return to her former love and understanding of Christianity, and more specifically, the Catholic faith. I know these are growing pains, and many college students go through it. I did. I was waiting for it. I just wish it weren't happening at a time when she thinks I have no idea what I am talking about. That, too is not unexpected, but it still hurts. She is spending some time with her beautiful 14 year old sister, who maybe can help recenter her a bit, as her faith is strong and growing.

I am going to post some Lenten friendly recipes, because I know it's hard sometimes to find things that are simple, yet appealing to littles. Check back tomorrow - a recipe for Friday - Noodle Kugel! I learned to make it when I worked at a Jewish Community Center. I loved it, and would like to share a recipe one of the ladies there gave me - you'll love it!

Count Down to 40

2011-03-09T01:38:00.000-05:00

I don't have much enthusiasm left for this Count Down to 40 thing. When I was dreading it, and scared of it, it seemed important to try and create the self I want to be, so I would still be young, so I wouldn't have to to look/feel/think like a 40 year old. But I am 40 years old. Or almost. I may be making peace with it, but I am going to soak every last second of being 39! Thirty nine is still young. Still Thirty-Something. Remember that show? I don't really - it was too grown up for me. Then Friends came on, and they were just my age. I loved that show - still do - right down to the inappropriate situations and all. My mom has always been appalled that I watch that show. But that show was full of lovely things. It was cheerful, the friends were really very good friends to each other for the most part. They loved each other. I never really had a group of friends like that - I've had my siblings, and therefore, never really felt the need to branch out and find a "group". Plus, when I was 20+, I had Meg, and was going to school, and working a minimum of two jobs. I didn't have time for friends.

Counting down, I think that was a way for me to wrap my mind around the whole 40 thing. My husband turned 40 - eight years ago. It didn't seem to phase him. I think he thinks I am a little nutty for having worried over it so much. He didn't think it was a big deal, but I did. I threw him a big party, it was supposed to be a surprise, but somehow it got out. We had it a whole month early, too, because I was due with a new baby just before his actual birthday. So, we had a party, ate some cake, and tons of people came with canes and reading glasses and other old people paraphernalia. And I laughed and laughed. Now, it doesn't seem quite so funny! Poor guy - he really, really does not like to be the center of attention - I wonder why I felt compelled to do that to him?

As for all my lofty goals - some of them are important to me - they are things I need to be doing no matter how old I am. In my often chaotic world, it seems whole days slip by without any effort on my part to do for others. I worry about this, we seem so secluded right now. I know that my main focus has to be on these kids, but I feel a pull to be doing more. I think I know what that tug is, but making room for it in our lives will be hard, making room for it in our house will be darn near impossible.

As for the self improvement goals - ya know, I just don't know how to get untired. I wake up exhausted, I fall into bed, never sleep well, and get up exhausted again. This is often punctuated by small people vomiting, wetting the bed, having bad dreams, waking up coughing, or just wanting mama. I'm not complaining, though I do fantasize about sleep. So exercise - just not happening, and yes, I know it would probably help me sleep better, and have more energy. But when? Just...when?

As for being more present, I truly do think I am doing a lot better with that - if I notice something like that, I pretty much correct it right away. My babies are getting lots of books read to them every night. I spend about 45 minutes putting them to bed, reading books, and saying prayers. They are loving it, and so am I.
The middle kids and I are going to be reading A Jungle Book and Treasure Island. When I am done with the little boys, we pile into my bed and I read to them. A classic, not junk, because they read enough goofy stuff on their own. This way I know they are getting the classics, though we choose the titles together.

And my Kenzie girl, she's my right hand. She and I spend a lot of time together, and she gets me all to herself for a good portion of every evening. We like to take turns playing songs for each other, each trying to get the other to listen to her music. It's fun, it keeps me in the loop of what she is listening to, and I get to expose her to the phenomenal 80's - like Men at Work or Debby Gibson or Pat Benatar. Good stuff!

So, with this, I hope my whining over turning 40 hasn't chased you all away. I promise to stop, get back to what I wanted this blog to be - a record. A record of these beautiful little lives springing up all around me, so fast I hardly have time to watch it happening. I don't want to forget this time, when I have been so very blessed. Blessed beyond imagining. A happy home, beautiful, healthy children, a delicious and adoring husband. A loving, supportive family with brothers and sisters and parents that are always there for me. What more could a girl ask for? Not a darn thing, but what ever the Lord has in store for me, I am ready.

My Kenzie Girl

2011-03-06T17:09:00.000-05:00

My girl, my Kenzie Rosie, turned 14 years old this weekend. When my children have a birthday, we don't spend a lot of money, or take them fancy places, or throw big parties. For the most part, anyway.Usually we have a big family party a few times a year with all the extended family, but on their actual birthday, they get the dessert item of their choice, and I sing. I sing to them all day long. I start first thing in the morning, and repeat my little happy birthday ritual over and over, until they are kinda tired of it. My little ones have even said "Mom! Stop singing!", but I don't, and I don't plan to, ever. Because it's more than just their birthday. It's the anniversary of a life long love.

When my Mackenzie was born, she was born into a blended family. A blended family that actually wasn't blending so well. And then she was born. Each of the girls had a sister, a real, related by blood sister. They were both her sister. They were finally united on at least one thing - they wanted to play with Kenzie, hold Kenzie and be a big sister to Kenzie. She came along and made us a family. Later of course, they would unite to torture and tease her, but at that moment in time an wars that were fought were about who got to hold her or whose turn was next. Typical, in my book. I was so glad for any kind of typical sibling rivalry at that point. It wasn't stressful, it was fun. It made me feel like we were finally a real family. It was all the blended issues that were so stressful.

As Kenzie grew, she became more and more lovely. Honestly, not just a mama's opinion. She was so pretty, it was almost embarrassing. People would stop us in stores and at restaurants to tell us how pretty she was. It was hard, because then, they would feel compelled to turn to the other girls and exclaim "Oh! They ALL are!" But the girls saw right through that, and they were a little jealous about all the attention she got. I can't blame them for having hurt feelings, they were pretty little, just 6 and 7 when she was born. I told them that people just love babies, and aren't shy about talking to babies. I think they grew to understand that this was at least partially true.

Now the big girls are grown, away at college and Kenzie really misses her big sisters, until they come home and drive her crazy. But they go to the movies, and have some common interests now that she is a little older.They still pick on her, and she gets annoyed with them, but they are sisters. Someday, they will all be so glad to have one another.

For now, she's still my little Kenzie Rosie, the one who made us a family. The girl who stole my heart and has yet to give it back. She's 14 now, and nearly all grown up. She'll be in high school next year, so in four short years she will be leaving me, too. Off to college to make her own way in the world. She's going to have to put up with a lot from me over the next four years. It's going to always be in my mind that she will be next to leave, so I will have to work to not smother her.

So for now, she's still my baby girl. When I look at her, I still see the little girl with the big eyes and the long, long brown hair. I think that's how I will always see her. When I stand up at her wedding to watch her dad walk her down the aisle, I know my mind will flash back to that little girl. And I'll bawl my eyes out - but, that's what mothers do.
Happy Birthday, Kenzie Girl, I love you more than you know.

The Count Down to 40 Continues

2011-03-05T17:51:00.001-05:00

It's next Saturday - it looms ahead of me, but for some reason, it's not bothering me so much anymore. It was, just yesterday I recoiled at the mention of it, but I didn't really feel it. I mean, I've said the words I have been saying - "Oh, no! I don't want to think about it!" and the "Can we please forget it is happening?!". But I haven't really felt them the last few days. I think... can it be? I think I might be making peace with this whole 40, your life is now half over thing.

I've been trying to analyze the daylights out of the whole aging thing - and if you know me at all, you know I tend to over analyze the daylights out of everything. I think I know why it's been bugging me so much - there are several reasons, and while they have to do with aging, they are not really about my aging.

1. My grandmother. She's 90 this year. And she's in a nursing home. Except that she doesn't know she's at a nursing home. She thinks she is at school, or at a friends house or somewhere, and is waiting anxiously for her mother and dad to come pick her up. They must be in a fright by now, you see. Watching her deteriorate has been heartbreaking. And frightening. Every little memory problem I have has me convinced that I am losing my mind - literally.

2. My mom and dad. My parents, especially my mom, who is my friend, my advocate, my champion and my cheerleader, and sometimes banker (ha!), have had some health issues the last couple of years. I hate the idea of them getting older. I want them to be young forever, and I am having a hard time with the clock ticking by.

3. My babies. Yeb is nearly two years old. While the decision to be done having babies (God willing) was a hard one, I truly think it was the right one. That doesn't mean that the kids growing up is easy. The idea of no cribs, no diapers, no nursing, no wee babe to cuddle in the night makes my heart hurt, it actually makes me tear up. To my babies, every one of you, I have LOVED EVERY LAST SECOND of your babyhoods. Even the sleeplessness. Even the crying and the endless nursing. Every bit. Please don't grow up and leave me! Okay, you can grow up and leave me, but you have to promise to come back and bring your babies. I will babysit! I have references and I will work for free!

All these things are things I cannot change. Time will continue to pass no matter how I feel about it, so I might as well get on board. I think I am ready. The thought no longer strikes fear in my heart, so that's progress, right? Besides, no matter what waits for me in the future, the Lord will be there to guide me through. What more could a 27 40 year old ask for?

Count Down to 40 - 12 Days to Go!

2011-03-01T00:44:00.000-05:00

How am I doing with all the goals, wishes for self improvement and long lasting peace with the aging process, you are probably not wondering? Not well. I want to be one of these beautiful girls I graduated with whom I now see on Facebook nearly everyday, celebrating a 40th birthday. You know what it feels like? It feels like that movie from the 70s - The Thirty Year Olds. Remember it? Probably not, I barely do, and only because my parents were watching it one night, and my sister and I watched it, peaking around the corner from the upstairs. We weren't supposed to be watching it, but for some reason that movie has always stuck in my head. The plot was sort of Machiavellian in that the population of where ever they were killed people off once they hit 30 years of age. I don't remember much more than that, and I tried Googling it, but all I could find was this article about how 40 year old need to buy long term care insurance. Really? You've got to be kidding me. Anyway, I just am not really digging the whole "40" thing.

Honestly, do you really, really want to know what it is? While I am all for self improvement and being a better person and all that, embracing my age, feeling the wisdom - whatever - the problem I am having is that I don't want to be fat and forty. I don't. I don't want to feel like I have one foot in the grave already, and turning 40, knowing I am half way through my life, most likely, and I wasted my 20s and 30s being fat. Yep, I am that vain. I have a beautiful family, and an amazing husband. I know, we built this family during my 20s and 30s. I used 6 years of my 20s getting through college. I did not waste that time, really. But, I always had it in my head that I would make it up to myself (the never losing all the baby weight, compounding it, etc), by being healthy and fit, and yes, wanting to make my husband drool a little at 40. Not exactly a spiritual or mature goal, is it? So, I console myself with a bowl of cereal, or something equally carbish, at 11pm, when no one should be eating.

So there you have it, web world. I have 12 days left to become the me I want to be when I am 40. I need to pray more, I need to be more present. And I need to do more for my family, household, and my beautiful Douglas. I can get so wrapped up in what needs to be done for school, bills, phone calls, appointments, work, all that stuff. I honestly could sit at my desk all the time and never be done. There are too many days when I do exactly that. And then, to distract myself, or change the subject and end the tedium, I waste some time on Facebook. Awesome.

Enough with the negativity, that's more annoying that anything else, right? When the day rolls around, as it surely will - there doesn't seem to be any stopping time - I hope to just pretend it isn't happening, so I can be 27 in my head, and not acknowledge the day, or the number. I hate that this is bugging me so much. It's just a number. If it were someone else whining this much about it I would tell them to get over it. If there was something they didn't like, then get off their duff and change it! I need a swift kick or two.

So, goals? Really, just acceptance, or avoidance. Either one. Deciding that it's really not a big deal would be a good place to start.

Something About Mary...

2011-02-27T23:02:00.002-05:00

Forgive me for stealing a movie title, but it's so perfect for what is running through my head. I have had, since I was a very young girl, a special love for the Blessed Mother. This is a natural part of being Catholic, of course, but I can remember the specific time when my understanding of her role, and my deep love of her began.

I went running to my mom for something, crying. I was sad, and worried. We were standing in the little kitchen of our house, and it was just before bed time. My mom bent down and was talking to me, trying to calm me down. Mom told me that whenever I was feeling nervous or anxious, to pray to the Blessed Mother. That the Blessed Mother was a very special friend, that she knew my heart, and that I was worried, but that she could take my prayers to Jesus. How wonderful, that you can ask Christ's mother to pray for you, just as you would ask your very own mother to pray for you.

I will never forget that, as it was the start of a lifetime of praying to the Blessed Mother in earnest. I had said my Hail Mary's like I was supposed to, but never really connected my heart with it. I was little, but I had yet to really understand why I needed to pray.

The reason I was anxious, and worried that night, and have some residual anxiety and worry every year at this time still, was because my mom's brother had been killed in a recent accident. My mother's reaction to the news was, to that point and for many, many years, the most heart breaking thing I had ever witnessed. I was sad in the way a small child is sad over such a thing. I didn't truly understand, but I was sad for my mom. I was nervous because he was so young, it didn't make sense to me. And I was sorrowful because I really did love my uncle, who was funny and played rough and tumble games with me. It was many, many Februarys ago, yet that feeling lingers like a memory you can't quite put your finger on, all month long. It's a wondering of why you feel sad, until you remember. I worry a little about my mom, I know she feels sad during this time, and I remember how she, even though she was still grieving herself, took the time to explain to me the preciousness of the Blessed Mother. That prayer to her can help heal your heart. That she, in her wisdom, will go to her Son on your behalf. A much loved aunt of my dad's had taught my mother about Mary, and she taught me. I hope I am teaching my children and godchildren to ask our Blessed Mother to carry their prayers to Jesus, especially in times of grief. Especially when they are parents themselves.

There have been so many times when I have known her love for me, and my children. I have memories of her, and I dream of her. I hope and pray that I will one day get to meet Our Lady. Until then, I will pray to ask for her intercession, and hope I never forget to thank her for her prayers.

Count Down to 40 - Go With the Flow

2011-02-23T22:43:00.001-05:00

I think I may have mentioned a time or two that I tend to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants sort. I never really minded this - and really, I had to abandon this mentality to such an extent while in college, raising Meg, working at least 2 jobs at a time, that I embraced the living daylights out of it once I graduated. I married Douglas, graduated from college and became a stay at home mom. I had two+ kids and suddenly, I was FREE! I could plan my days and nights as I wished - and I did. I embraced my inner hobo - often not getting dressed in real clothes, or doing much of anything other than playing with babies and barely keeping the house going. I had my bursts of cleaning and whatever, and things that just had to be done, but for the first time in years, I was actually free to do as I pleased most of the time. And I did as I pleased - with our non-existent budget, with time, and with household duties. I worked hard at being disorganized. (I am starting to wonder why Doug kept me around!)

As time went on, and we had more babies, and began homeschooling, some, but certainly not all, or even most, of this changed. I went to my mom and dad's for dinner whenever I wanted, which was often (Doug worked afternoon shift). I played with babies, I watched tv. (Have I mentioned that I really like tv? I miss tv!)Well this went on for years and years, homeschooling, puttering around the house, and eventually I started working for TKG. Another time constraint, but I LOVED being part of my brother's fast growing company, and I loved contributing to the household.

Then - last fall we decided to enroll the kids in an online school. We weren't getting enough school done, we needed structure (ya think?), and I needed to not have to plan every little thing out. We enrolled 5 students. By the end of September I knew that this was KICKING my butt. I couldn't do it - we were doing school for 9 or 10 hours a day. So, I withdrew Luke, who was a young 5 anyway, as he was just not getting it - he wasn't ready. Going forward from there, we had 4 students, and were still doing school for far too long each day. We now have a pretty good handle on things, and Luke is starting to do some of the sweet little activities I have done with all my kindergarteners. We are now learning how to go-with-the-flow.

You might think there is not a lot of difference between flying-by-the seat-of-your-pants and going-with-the-flow. Maybe on the outside looking in, there's not. Flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants implies a certain irresponsibility, and the freedom to be so. Its an inherent quality to the whole flying attitude, while going-with-the-flow is more of a "I'm going to relax about the things that don't matter" kind of attitude. I mean, we are still messy. There is still laundry everywhere all the time. We don't get to go to my folks' for dinner whenever we want (and not as much as I would like, honestly). But, I am learning to get small tasks done in small amounts of time. We are totally kicking school patooty, and our budget is rapidly getting under control. While we aren't running around as much as we used to, I am starting to let go of other things that I used to clamp down on, while getting more organized in other areas. We are playing, painting, making silly pretend soup (and I am not freaking over the 25 cents of wasted groceries), and I have let go of what color socks the boys wear to church (mostly). It' bizarre, I know. I didn't/don't care about laundry, or perfect housekeeping, or developing the perfect budget. I did/do care about what socks and shoes they all wear, perfect parties with plenty of food, and whether or not there is enough produce in the house at all times. Oh yeah - and all my hanging clothes have to point in the same direction, with the hanger facing in. I don't know why. The floor can be a mess, but all the hangers have to point the same way. And all my movies and cds are arranged by genré, not alphabetically. Actually, that's how I organize everything. Someone please explain this to me!

Little by little, I think I am growing up. I know that there are things that have to be done, and I am learning to not let my knee jerk reactions rule me. This will stun those of you who know me well - but while I have planned all Kenzie and Kolbe's party for their sacraments (in May), I have not yet ordered a darn thing. I sent the invitations, but I am not harassing anyone for RSVPs (yet). This is progress, baby! I have even seen a few conversations going on in different places, and knowing that I could not sway the participants, I did not join the discussion. Also progress, as I would normally jump in, rail at whomever with facts, figures and quotes from the Bible, and ignore the kids all night while I did so. Now, I am not saying that I won't still do that sometimes, because honestly, sometimes it needs to be done, but I'm going to be much more selective where I chime in. Progress. Going with the flow. It's about time, don't you think?

A little boost to my ego...

2011-02-19T00:50:00.001-05:00

Katrina from They All Call Me Mom gave me this blog award! My first. Thanks so much, Katrina, I am so glad you enjoy my little blog.  

 The rules of the Stylish Blogger Award are:
Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post.  
Share seven things about yourself.
Award seven recently discovered new blogs.
Contact these bloggers and let them know they've received the award. 

Seven things about me that I haven't blabbed all over this blog or Facebook already? That will be a tough one - let's see:

1. I LOVE television. I really do. I don't get to see very much of it. I watch Glee once a week with my daughter and occasionally turn on Food Network or Fox News while I am in the kitchen. 

2. I stay up late - usually at least until 2a.m. or so - it takes that long to get everything done, plus, my sweet Douglas comes home around 1:30 or so and I like to be up to see him for a while before we go to bed. 

3. I am a little neurotic when it comes to parties or any gathering where food is offered. I have to have TONS of food, and I freak out a little if I don't think everything is just so. Well, more than a little. My family goes all quiet and just scrambles around following orders until everything is ready - I am THAT scary.

4. I am a serial obsessive - and yeah, I just made that up - but, I tend to get all wrapped up in/carried away with things I like. When I was little, it was Trixie Belden books, then for about 20 years, it was Oprah, then it was one blog, then another. I do it with all areas of my life, from what I read to movies I watch to what clothes I dress my kids in. It all has to be part of a set, or somehow fit together (in my brain, no one else's). Maybe a better way to put it would be that I enjoy living in a certain genré!

5. I am #3 in a line of  4 Megans. My grandmother is Megan #1, my mom is Megan#2, I am Megan #3, and my daughter is Megan#4. My grandmother and I used to always sign cards to each other with just "Love, #1" and "Love, #3". It was our little thing. I miss that.

6. I am passionate, to the point of militancy on my views on several issues. I think that militancy tends to turn people off, so they cannot hear my message, and I battle between toning it down to be heard, and just exploding. - Mellow I am not.

7. I love my husband. (This should have been number 1!). I mean, I really, really love him. He  is just like standing on solid ground after teetering endlessly off a cliff. I love that he has green eyes, he is big and tall, thinks I am corny and loves me anyway, and he makes really beautiful babies. The end. 

Seven bloggers I have recently discovered and LOVE!

St. Elizabeth Anne Seton Exchange 

Single Dad  Laughing

Habitat 4 Insanity

Farm Girl Follies

The Apple Cider Mill

Castle In The Sea

Finding Wonder In The Mundane

Check them out - they are all pretty fabulous!  

On Raising Teens...and a Comment About Day 13

2011-02-16T00:45:00.002-05:00

I recently read a post on one of the blogs I enjoy very much, all about her methods of training up her small children, so that by the time they are teens, they were pretty much the people they were going to be forever. I think I would have to agree with some of what she said. Having raised two teens so far, and working on 1.5 more, currently, with lots of littles coming up, I have a few opinions on the matter. I think having one foot in the homeschool world, and one foot out, has given me a unique perspective. Some homeschooling families (we are one, so don't take it the way it sounds, please!), make such strict rules for their kids, especially the teenagers.(And yes, I know some families have no rules or raising up at all!) I just tend to think that being overly harsh, with many rules and restrictions isn't going to help your case as a parent. If you know you raised a good kid - then trust that you raised a good kid, i.e., the following:

1. I think forming them early is important. Manners mean more than just saying please and thank you. They teach respect for self and others. If you teach them manners and self control when they are young, they don't have to learn it when they are teenagers.
2. I truly think that the beginnings of respect for self and others stems from a love of the Lord. Teaching children about God's love for us gives them a sense of intrinsic self worth. It also teaches them that God loves all of His children. Now, I know that children will be children, and therefore make mistakes, but when a child knows and understands that we are here to know, love and serve God in this world, so that we can be with Him in the next, it will impact many of their choices, and certainly the important ones.
3. If you take the time to get to know your kids, and keep knowing them as they mature, then you will be able to guess what kind of choices they will make. My Meg, my 20 year old, is our wild child. While that may scare some parents, it has never really scared me. I know where she draws the line between wild child and just plain sinful and disrespectful. I am comfortable, if not always entirely happy, with where she draws her line. She has a firm foundation in her faith, and she will stand by it, and always base her decisions, most especially the bigger, more important decisions; on it. I think, knowing that, it is easy to know what choices she will make in most situations. I know I can trust her to make good decisions. Our other 20 year old, Liz is somewhat less the wild child, and I think her foundation in faith is even deeper than Meg's. I trust that she knows her heart and mind, and bases all decisions on the teachings of faith. I know that because I know she has been well formed in faith, by her own choosing.
4.It's our job as parents to make sure our kids have the tools to navigate the world, relationships, choices about life, love, schooling, careers, everything. If we have raised them well, taught them the God loves them, and that we love and value them, and gotten to know their hearts and minds, then it is time to trust them. Let them make their own choices. Of course, some of them will be the wrong choice, but that's how everyone learns. But, hard as we may try, we can't hang on to them forever.
5. Keep talking to your teens. Know them well, and make sure they know you have expectations of them, but don't rule them. If you lord over them, make too many choices for them, they will fight you. Instead, keep conversations going, but let them have some room to move.

So, teach your babies, mold your toddlers, shape your children and tweens. And then, when they become old enough to fly the coop once in a while - let them. Guide them, but let them go! They will make the right choices because you taught them how. I think this was why our oldest girls really never had too many rules. They never needed them. They just didn't need them. They were always home on time, they never hung out with the "wrong crowd" unless they were trying to help or convert them in some way. They never abused our trust in them. When it came time for the big dances and things, they actually had to ask us when we wanted them home. It never occurred to us to give them a curfew - we ALWAYS knew where they were, and who they were with, but we never had to ask. They had such good, good girls as friends.
Maybe we've gotten lucky with some really good kids, and I'm not going to say that a couple of the ones coming up aren't gonna give us a run for our money, but we're doing okay so far. I am really proud of the ones who've flown the coop so far, and the next one, my Kenzie, she's a doozy. This kid is a great kid. When it's her time to fly, I'll trust her, and know that she'll make excellent choices.

As for my Count Down - it's Day 13, and I think I was a present parent today. I played with babies, I tried not to be distracted, I got school done in a timely manner, even though my new PW book was calling my name all day! Kolbe and I read about Susan B. Anthony today. Now, she was my kind of lady. She fought for womens rights, but she never wanted women to lose our femininity. She was against abortion, and outspoken about it. She knew that motherhood was the epitome of femininity, and a woman's best chance at shaping our world. She fought for our daughters rights to vote, and to own land, but never to give up what it means to be a woman.

So my goal for Day 14? I want to expose my daughters to true femininity - grace, love of God, respect for self and others, the dignity that comes with being thought of as a "lady". My grandmother was always a lady, she carried herself well, was full of poise and dignity, and dressed to the nines, with a killer set of gams. If you throw in some of my Grandma Karcher's warmth and hugs, and ability to make great pie, I think you've found the perfect woman! I want my girls to know their great grandmothers just a bit better, so I want to tell them some stories, and hopefully, create a memory of each woman for them. My grandmother is still alive, my Nain, and my girls know her, but they don't remember her when she was a little younger. Maybe I can give them a little of her, and a little of Grandma Karcher.

Count Down - But I Can't Remember What Day!

2011-02-15T01:18:00.002-05:00

Yeb with some stolen VD bounty

*Update: I am an official schmuck - my Douglas came home from work with a copy of The Pioneer Woman's Black Heels To Tractor Wheels - and I am so excited I can hardly stand it. I owe the guy - big time! Back rubs, a special dinner, something made of peanutbutter, even though peanutbutter smells and makes me want to... never mind, but he totally rocks socks, people!
Today was St. Valentine's Day, and while the web was full of "I love Valentine's Day" and "I hate Valentine's Day", the Jeffery Household stayed true to a couple of little traditions. I told the little kids the story of St. Valentine, and all the kids got little treats. The kids all made Valentines for their cousins and sent them up to be delivered. My husband, the man who is far more romantic than I am, brought me roses, a card, and chocolates (most of which I gave to the kids!). I, on the other hand, did nothing for him. I thought we had a pact, one where we just don't spend money on this stuff anymore. The man always, always ignores the pact. It's sweet, and makes me feel like a schmuck. You would think I would be more romantic, wouldn't you? I mean, look at this place! I am a total sap. But I'm not really very romantic - and yes, there is a big difference. To me, being a sap means I wax poetic over everything and am overly emotional. Being romantic - in the Valentine's Day sense - it's just not me. I would rather buy a funny card (but write a long, mushy note) than a lovey one, (but I'd rather get the lovey one), I'd rather give a backrub than buy a gift. Maybe that just makes me cheap? Could be! Honestly, when my Douglas walks through the door with roses, especially on Valentine's Day, all I can think about is how many gallons of gas he could have bought instead. Totally not romantic - and I know he knows I LOVE Valentine's Day, but the roses kill me. They are just going to die. And I know they were expensive, so I can't enjoy them. And that makes me feel mean, as they were given in love, but also I think he thinks he has to buy them. And no amount of telling him otherwise has ever worked. I don't know how to convince him. And feeling this way makes me feel like a big meanie - a scrooge of Valentines. And that was the longest paragraph, ever.

So, as for my Count Down to 40 (can't you just hear Andy Richter saying that, like when he and Conan used to do the "Year 2000" bits?) - anyway, I can't even remember what day I am supposed to be on - I think Day 12? I sort of skipped 10 and 11 over the weekend, with Luke's birthday and other hoopla around here.
As for my goals, in short order:
1. Sugarlessness - well, I ate cake, and a couple of the chocolates Doug got me - but I gave almost all of them away - so better, but not great. *Sigh* - sugar continues to be a battle for me. I always think about sugar when I think of other people's addictions. It is mine, for sure.
2. Movement - well, I found the channel that has the lady doing yoga, and I watched her for a few minutes the other morning. Does that count? No? Shucks. I'll find her, and join her if it's the last thing I do (and it very well may be.)
3.Doing for others - well, I this is hard to say - I really don't like it when people say, "hey, I did this for so and so, or that, or the other" so it would bug me to put down here efforts I do try to make on behalf of others. I really try to do whatever is within my power, and will continue to. I guess you're gonna have to believe me on this one!
4.Reading to my babies - Yes, they are being read to, by Dad during the day, and I read them about a half a million books before bed, but after prayers and teeth, every night since I made it a goal. They LOVE it. Benji loves "The Tale of Benjamin Bunny" because there is a Benjamin who has a cousin, Peter, just like he is a Benjamin who has a cousin, Peter. Luke is loving Winnie the Pooh, and Yeb really, really likes the same Sandra Boynton "Going to Bed Book". He can pick it out and bring it to me every time. So, we have read these three books a gazillion times each. Please note that there are no fewer than 100 books in their bedroom at any given time.
5. Being kinder to my children - I am really working on speaking more kindly to them. I have to say, I am pretty darn sarcastic sometimes, and I have hurt their tender little hearts, especially Kolbe and Luke. They are both real softies, though Kolbe acts as tough as anything you could imagine. And my poor little Luke is just heartbroken any time anyone speaks harshly to him. I am getting better, though I made Luke cry just this evening because I snapped at him for goofing around in his seat at dinner. Poor guy - he forgave me right away, but I still felt badly. My Kenzie, she has picked up my knack for the super sarcastic. She is actually what made me realize the way I talk to the kids, because I was hearing her. And she sounded like me. So now, I have to figure out how to correct some of that. Suggestions on how to get a teenager to quit being so sarcastic are welcome in the comments section below.

So, as I look towards Day 13, and see how really busy this household is, I just want to be more present. I want to actually live my day, not just stumble through it. I do a lot of stumbling through! I want to hold my baby, and just feel the way he feels in my arms and try to cement it in my memory. I want to get to know my bigger kids a bit better. I honestly don't know what goes through Jonah or Jenna's minds. Kenzie and Kolbe are different. They are chatty, they'll tell you EVERYTHING if you are in front of them long enough. You have to draw stuff out of Jonah, and Jenna, I don't know what deviousness is going on in there, but I have a feeling that there is a good bit of devious thought. Hmmm - suggestions for how to get into the head of a 10 year old daughter and the brain of a mustache growing 12 year old son, are welcome.

Have a Beautiful Tuesday, ya'll!

Happy Birthday, Lukey

2011-02-12T23:26:00.000-05:00

Luke - 6 years

Today is February 12. That means it is my baby's birthday. Perhaps I should be more specific. It is my baby, Luke's birthday. My Lukey turned six years old today.

When we found out we were expecting Luke, we had six children already, the last four of them in rapid succession. I was so tired. So sleep deprived. To top the exhaustion of homeschooling, and just the number of children, work, daily life, my Jonah had just been diagnosed with a seizure disorder. That brought a lot of fear and worry. So, for the first time ever, I found my self not entirely thrilled about being pregnant. I know I whined a lot. He was also the first baby to make me ill. I had never been really nauseous or anything with the other kids. I pretty much breezed through my pregnancies.

As my pregnancy progressed I whined a little more, and tried to sleep, envisioning the hours, days, years of sleeplessness that would stretch before me as soon as I hit around 36 weeks, when you are just too uncomfortable to sleep. I knew that once it started, it would be a long time before I had a full night's rest.

Luke - 1 week old

When it came time to deliver our son, whom we had named "Luke Christopher" almost as soon as we saw the ultrasound, things got interesting. His heart rate went down really, really low. My usually calm midwife was not panicking, but she was rattled, as I was not sufficiently dialated. She called for the doctor, thinking they were going to have to use the vacuum to get the little guy outa there. As luck would have it, I had the urge to push, so she told me to go for it - she'd fix me up later if need be, and my darling Lucky Luke was born very quickly. I know very well what a good guardian angel this guy must have, to let him come so very fast, his heart rate just fine once he was out.

All my whining was over once I had him in my arms. He was really, really beautiful, with red fuzzy hair and big blue eyes. From that moment on our Luke has been the very sweetest child. He has an enthusiasm for life that even most six year olds don't have. He is thrilled for anyone opening a gift and will shower the person with "Wow! That's great!". He loves to give presents, wrapping his toys in towels or whatever is handy and presenting me or his dad with the gift. He somehow always knows what to say to make someone smile, and he is the sweetest, most affectionate child I have ever met. He just radiates charm and can win anyone over with his smile. I love him so much. I am forever grateful that God is in control of our family, and not me. Because I would have chosen to not be pregnant right then, and we would not have this beautiful child. This amazing little person. Luke, if you ever read this, know that you have been a gift to your dad and me. We always asked, jokingly, when God was going to send us a sweet one. You, my Lucky Luke, are the sweet one. Doesn't hurt that you are incredibly beautiful, with a shiny soul just beaming right onto whomever is around you. I love you so much, and I am so glad God sent you to us. Happy Birthday, "Wuke Chrisoper Jeffey". May God bless you always. Love, Mom

Crime and Punishment, err...Sin and Penance

2011-02-11T15:03:00.000-05:00

Last weekend my son, Kolbe made his First Reconciliation. At the end of the ceremony, anyone who wanted to go to confession was welcomed. My children and I all lined up.

Our priest, Fr. Vic is very good at giving penances. He always makes the ~~punishment~~ penance fit the ~~crime~~ sin. As each of my children exited the confessional I instructed them to go sit and say their penance. Each one told me that they didn't have a prayer penance, Fr. Vic had instructed them to do something nice for whomever they had sinned against. A very typical penance from Fr., designed to make them think of the person they had wronged.

My children were working on their penances in the last day or so, though I didn't realize it. Jonah, Jenna and Kolbe were standing in the kitchen, arguing over who should get to play with a toy Jonah had purchased last night at Target. When I asked why they were arguing over it, as it was Jonah's, Kolbe says. "Well, I gave him the five bucks to buy it!" When I asked him why he would do that, he told me. "Well, Fr. Vic said I have to do something nice for Jonah, so I gave him five bucks." Jenna pipes up with "Yeah, and I am going to buy Kolbe some gum, since I have to be nice to him!"

I am pretty sure they weren't supposed to just buy each other off. I think I better call Fr. and ask him to be more specific next time!

Thinking About Being Spontaneous

2011-02-11T01:24:00.002-05:00

I just posted about my 9th day of my Count Down to 40. It was sad, really. My poor children and I were so excited to go to my mom's and Target. I felt like I was being spontaneous because I had just decided this morning to go, I hadn't been planning it out all week or anything. Doesn't exactly define spontaneity, does it?
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines Spontaneity as follows:

Definition of SPONTANEITY

: the quality or state of being spontaneous

: voluntary or undetermined action or movement; also : its source

Examples of SPONTANEITY

the spontaneity of their behavior
spontaneity in their lives when they had a baby>

Uh - did you read that last line? Yep - I think some of my lack of spontaneity can be attributed to babies and kids, sure, but to think that a trip to my parents' house and Target qualified? Oy - it's worse than I thought, folks. Old-ladyness is setting in, for sure. Who in the world thinks that is spontaneous?!

You wanna hear spontaneous? Try packing a mid-sized sedan with four kids, buying camping supplies on your way out of town to go TOUR ARIZONA?! A trip through the Grand Canyon, the Painted Desert, Sedona. Plopping our tents down in the middle of a reservation - where someone drove cattle through our camp at around 3am - scared the daylights out of us! Dana, Stacy and I were in one tent, and Mom, Dad and Geoff were in another. We had those little pop-ups. We were awakened by odd noises and some large shapes pressing up against the sides of our tents! How were we to know that they were going to move cattle through the area in the middle of the night? I guess that's what you get for being spontaneous - one of the best memories of our time in Arizona, and a great story to tell when you are trying to remember the last time you were actually spontaneous. My mom and dad did this kind of thing all the time. It used to drive me nuts, but now, I want those stories for my kids. Can you learn how to be spontaneous?

New goal - try to be more spontaneous! Not Target spontaneous, but maybe Hocking Hills spontaneous, since we are in Ohio, rather than Arizona. Seriously, fly by the seat of my pants really just means I don't want to be tied down or have deadlines. Spontaneity means embracing life - getting out there and doing something. I'm gonna give it a shot. It'll take some planning, but I am sure I can pull it off!

Count Down to 40 - Day 9

2011-02-11T00:58:00.000-05:00

It's just past midnight, and I just sat down after running around all day long. It's been one of those crazy but fun days. A day where I met some goals, and totally blew a couple off - which is the way I tend to treat life anyway. I kind of like the fly by the seat of my pants thing I have had going the last 39+ year. I like getting an idea in my head and just going with it. So today, we got very little school done, but we did some, and since we spend most every day, all day long, doing school, I am definitely okay with that. I didn't do any exercising or stretching or yoga of any kind this morning. I am a little bummed about that, but honestly, I just forgot. I did play on the floor with babies, and chased Yeb back and forth through the living room, because it makes him scream and laugh. I fed them breakfast and rushed through school because I had a plan. We were going to go to my moms, then Target. How much more fun does it get than that? (Editor's note: upon rereading, I am a little sad that this qualifies in my mind as spontaneous. A post on that coming!)

We did school, had a late lunch and I told the kids to help the little guys; Luke, Ben and Yeb get dressed while I showered. It should be noted that my Kenzie was not home - she is my right hand. I came out of the shower and all the little guys were dressed, save socks and shoes. I found Ben's shoes. And Yeb's. That left just Luke. I was tearing through his room, trying to find his shoes, when I realized I didn't even know what I was looking for. I asked him where his sneakers were, and he told me "Wellll, I don't know what they wook wike, so I can't find 'em". So, I am getting mad, as I tend to do when I have one of my shoe/sock/sweater/perfect outfit/whatever freak outs. I am running through the inventory in my head, trying to picture what his shoes look like. Ah! The white Nikes with a red and black swoosh! But wait, the last time I put those on him, we couldn't get them on his feet. Plus, it's been all snowy, so he's been wearing boots. Boots! Ugh - I just threw them away because the were SO. GROSS. They had been passed down from Jonah and I just tossed them a few days ago wheeeennnn? Ah yes, when he tried to wear them to church and I had another mini freak out over the whole "find the church shoes" thing. So, okay the kid has no shoes other than his church shoes which are also really too small. This requires some digging into my "grow into" boxes. I finally found a pair of sneakers in the right size. I was so excited, I pulled them out and THEY HAD NO LACES! So, frustration and my level of near freak out is at a dangerous level. Why, oh why would anyone take the laces out? Well, it was Kolbe, I am sure. For a while there, he kept tying laces and strings and jump ropes together and tying all the doors in the upstairs together. Weird, right? I had forgotten all about it until I found the laceless sneakers.

To make an already way too long story even longer, I had to find laces before we could leave. I dug through junk drawers (well, Doug's one junk drawer in the kitchen) and came up with a pair of perfectly white shoe laces to go in the dark gray and black sneakers. They just screamed "hit me, I am a dork!", but it was now past 4:30 and if we were going to go, we needed to go. We finally got to my mom's about an hour after I planned to be there. But you know what? It all felt kinda good. The rushing. The getting out of the house. The mad dash to get everyone dressed and ready. We used to do it two or three days a week - go to Canton and see everyone. I never minded the mad dash. I like flying by the seat of my pants - I actually miss the opportunity to do it more. We are so tied down with work and school, and children, that spontaneity just isn't in the cards most days.

We were all so happy to be out of the house, the kids were happy, I was happy. We went to my mom's and then decided to go tour the new house that my brother and his wife are almost done building. The kids ran through the big, empty house for a while, hugging cousins and laughing - happy to be together unexpectedly.

Before we came home we made a late run through Target - Mecca to both me and the kids. We LOVE us some Target. Something for everyone. We shopped for birthday presents, cereal, and some other necessities. But, did I buy Luke some shoes? Some shoe laces, perhaps - to replace the dorky white laces that will drive me crazy? NOPE. I thought about it, and promptly forgot before we even left the store.

So my goals for the day? Shot all to heck, though I really didn't sit down all day. And I think I was nice. I didn't scream or yell about the shoes, or socks, or anything. We had a really fun day - a spontaneous day. A day that felt like me. The girl who doesn't like schedules or dates or times. I follow the rules, don't get me wrong. I just do it all in my own time. And on a day like today, I am okay with that.

A Count Down to 40? Day 8 or Whatever

2011-02-09T23:07:00.000-05:00

Count Down to 40 - Day 8

I am getting bored - it seems so narcissistic. But then, most blogs are fairly narcissistic. It is shortly after 8pm, which is a fevered time in the Jeffery household. We're still cleaning up from dinner, and lunch, and school, and whatever Yebbi dumped, smeared, licked, climbed or broke throughout the afternoon. The little boys know that bedtime is fast approaching, so they are running around like crazy men, trying to get some last minute activity in before their forced confinement. They are like bees in September. You know how bees get all frantic and aggressive because it will soon be time to hibernate, or whatever bees do all winter long? (What do bees do all winter long? An important question which will drive me nuts until I go google it.) Well, my boys get all frantic and run around and make messes and basically do all in their power to avoid the dreaded procedures of bath, teeth, book (fingers crossed!), prayers and bed. Luke begs for one more game on the Wii, which he has been on all day long today. Which is why I didn't want video games. Ben is begging for food, because he fell asleep in his dinner, and never ate a single bite. And Yebbi. My baby is in constant motion unless he is passed out cold.

Nice pajama bottoms, there Benji. That's not embarrassing at all.

Yeb is always recharged after a meal!

One pretty cool thing happened when I was taping (Couldn't get it to upload! Bummer!)Yeb, he actually signed "all done" for me! I know he knows all the signs I have taught him, because he'll pull one out every once in a while. He doesn't talk much yet, but is a total ham. He can say the word "cheese" clear as can be, but if you want him to sign or say "please", ya get nothin'. Well, I finally got him on tape signing. I keep telling the kids, if they do everything for him, he won't ever talk! His favorite thing to say is "no!" but, like so many siblings and cousins, I think he means "yes" half the time.
The bigger kids just keep asking me if it is time to put the little guys to bed yet. Should I feel bad that we all count down to bedtime? At the end of the day, I think we have all earned a little bit of calm before the big kids have to go to bed. And my Kenzie Rosie. She is not here, she is at my sister's house because she babysits for her one day a week, and I miss her every minute. I turn to tell her something a hundred times until she comes home again.

As for all my goals, and counting down - I'm still on it. I just thought I'd like to think of someone else for a change - anyone reading this is bound to get bored. (I do realize that I just spent 3-4 paragraphs talking about my kids, which amounts to the same thing.)
I have been pretty good, but not perfect about the sugar thing. I fell off the wagon on Sunday, but got back Monday. ( I blame my Aunt Sue and her turtle bars which I decided to make for the kids for the Superbowl. Yeah, they were for the kids alright.)
I had a bad day yesterday, and was snappy and cranky. I pointed this out to my husband, and asked him to remind me when I get like that to try and speak nicely to the little monkey heads. His thought was that one person can only take so much and Kolbe's constant leaving earned him a threat or two! Men - they so don't sweat all the guilt stuff women do! I love his perspective. It helps calm me down.
Sooo, to recap:
Be nice to people - workin' on it.
No sugar - mostly under control
Bring some joy - I'm working on finishing up my Facebook Pay It Forwards this weekend. Does that count?
Embrace the idea of actually turning 40 - still stops me cold and fills me with dread. Gonna mark that one as a work in progress!

So, for my next goal, in addition to no sugar, I am going to take the advice of my very dear friend, whom I have not seen in 25 (yikes!) years, and add some movement to my day. Somewhere. Probably going to be something goofy with the little boys first thing in the morning, so the big kids aren't up to make fun of me. This will be the hardest thing because:
#1. - I HATE MORNINGS
#2. - I HATE EXERCISE more than I hate mornings
So, that sounds doable, right? I am thinking 20 minutes or so, building up bit by bit, and maybe adding 10 minutes in the afternoon of some yoga or something when I am losing it with Kolbe. Are there any exercise people out there? Will this do any good, or is it not enough to bother? I think anything has to be better than the absolute zip that is going on now. If I could *gasp* actually get my lazy self out of bed before the little boys get up, I could do some yoga or something and get in a rosary. THAT would be the start of something big, ya'll.

Count Down to 40 - Days 6 and 7?

2011-02-09T00:39:00.001-05:00

Days 6 and 7

Yesterday and today have been so busy, I am afraid I never got to post for yesterday, so, I have already lost on the goal for a post everyday! Well, I am catching up tonight.

My goal for yesterday was to speak more kindly, be more patient with all my kiddos. I think I can call that one a complete loss. I just started to listen to the way I talk to them, and I was not thrilled with my motherly ministrations to them. Wow - I really do sound mean a lot. This breaks my heart more than a little. I not only speak harshly to them, I complain constantly. When I realize I am doing it, it drives me crazy. I will say things to Kolbe a hundred times a day like " Will you please sit down and do math with me so I can get out of this chair someday!?" or "If you don't get in here right now I am going to peel the ears off your head!" (this is referring to when they are being really bad, especially in church, I give their ears a tug - just to get them to pay attention, but still the threat sounds horrible!) Can you imagine what goes through their heads when their mother speaks this way to them? I lose patience so easily, and often. It has to be driving everyone crazy. Doug never says anything, just rounds them back up and sends them back in - I get the most frustrated when I have to make a phone call or something, and they all disappear - drives me crazy! Kolbe even said to me yesterday when I told him I wanted to finish up so I could get out of the school room for a while: " I know, I know, you complain about it all the time!". Well, that made me feel about this big |-|. I don't want him to feel like I hate doing school, I really want him to enjoy it, but the watching and listening the last two days has shown me that:

A. There really isn't any joyful learning going on here, it's just drudgery. Just getting through the material. Nothing more.
B. I don't play with or read to the littles. Really never get to. I play a little when the three little boys drag me (unwilling and complaining) out of bed early in the morning. I get them breakfast after that, then we start school, and I don't get to do anything with them until I feed them dinner. After that, it's bath, teeth, prayers, bed. Tonight I read A book. One book, because I had finally come to the realization that they are never read to. I can't stand it.
C. Kolbe doesn't know ANYONE his own age, other than cousins.
D. I am tired. I am not pleasant. I am not trying to impart knowledge. I am just muddling through as much as I can - usually until at least 8 o'clock at night. How am I ever going to add more students to this? Why would I do that to my poor, sweet little kids?
E. Other than snapping at each other to be quiet, we do nothing together during the day.
F. My husband and I just never see each other unless it is the middle of the night, when he gets home.
G. Did you notice that there was no mention of laundry in there? Or cleaning? Yeah.

So much of this plays into my discontent with the way I am operating this house, our "schedule" (ha!), the schooling, the raising of children. I should have this down. I've been doing some semblance of this forever. Why can't I get my act together? I think, and my brother has been trying to get me to understand this for years now, is that I have too much to do. But, where he misses the boat is that, because I have so much to do, I kind of check out, mentally, and don't do much of it, and none of it well. That's what this whole Count Down to 40 is really about. It's time. I mean, if you aren't a grown up by the time you are 40, it's never gonna happen. Part of me wants to go home ( I actually still get homesick - does anyone else feel that way?), climb into my mother's lap and suck my thumb or something. The other part of me wants to knock the crap out of the crybaby and say: "What the crap is the MATTER WITH YOU!? Grow the heck up and just do what you need to do!" Be nice, do school, be happy. Get up at 7 am with a smile on your face, say your prayers, change diapers, go through your day, impart knowledge, do for others, be kind to your children (since you were the one who wanted so many!), clean your house, love your husband, get your work done and shut up about it!" (language edited because my mother reads this) What a loser. Sheesh.

Soo, my goal for tomorrow? Get out of this pity party, and get back to my original goal - which boils down to just finally, being a grown up - and being good at it.