High Tech Toys

I didn't want them. I certainly don't need them. But now I don't want to live without them.

Jay got me an iPod for Mother's Day. At first, I protested the gift, saying how I never listen to music anymore, don't need anything of the sort and why did he get me such an expensive gift. What an ingrate I was.

Fast forward a few weeks, and I am listening to music again, for the first time in a decade, and I'm loving it! No more scratched CDs scattered through the car. No more changing CDs while driving to find the song the kids want. Now, when I remember a song I loved long ago I am just 30 seconds and 99 cents away from hearing it all I want. This thing is great! Besides the music, it has movies and photos too. A perfect mini screen for airplane rides. And I haven't even scratched the surface of Podcasts and books on tape. If there is anyone out there that doesn't have one of these babies yet, I say save up your birthday money and go get one. It's worth it.

Perhaps inspired by my new iPod-driven tech savvy, I finally traded in my 3+ year old mobile phone for a new one. Plan prices have come down during this time, and since my new, fancy, orange(!) phone was (nearly) free as my reward for being a Verizon customer for so long, I felt I could splurge the $5 a month for mobile web. I am now paying $5 LESS a month than I have been for the past 3 years and have a phone that flips open to reveal an entire, usable keyboard from which I can easily access my Yahoo email. I can hardly believe it. I know, I am showing my age by my amazement, but I can't help myself. I'm too excited! The phone has a camera nearly as good as my real camera, too, so I'll never be caught without one again. If you've been living with your phone for awhile, see if your provider will give you a new, cool one for free. I'm sure glad I did! After all, what can be more thrilling than being able to see who has commented on your blog while waiting to see your dental hygienist?

Now, don't even get me started on Tivo, the single greatest thing to happen to television since the remote. This is life-changing stuff. My kids have a very limited awareness of what commercials are, since they have been fast forwarding through pre-recorded, pre-approved programs all their lives. How did people raise children without this tool, I'd like to know. Imagine, never missing an episode of American Idol again! It can happen to you, I tell you.

I am guessing that there are those who read this blog who are not fans of technology. Some of you may not even have televisions. Though I admire your resourcefulness, I am not one you. I embrace technology. I love technology. It's so much fun!

Perhaps I have a little work to do in the "materialistic" category.

Family. Fun?

In the "Not As Fun As I Thought It Would Be" category, I have not one, not two, but THREE entries for today.

1. The kids earned Happy Meals for progress made in their summer reading program, so I took them out to redeem them today. They requested all different toys and actually got them (sometimes they all get the same thing and they don't like that) but then spent the entire meal time trading, arguing and crying over who got what toy and who wouldn't trade or trade back. Nothing says fun like multiple meltdowns in Burger King.

2. I used to make the kids' Halloween costumes back when I had just two and three kids. The last few years I have bought and reused costumes because I no longer have the time or the energy to make them. Last year the kids noticed that the homemade ones were better than the store bought ones and asked me to start making them again. I told the kids if they wanted homemade Halloween costumes, they had to ask me at the beginning of summer so I had time to make them. To my surprise, they remembered and asked me, right when school got out, to start sewing. So, today I thinned the herd and took just Joey and Sam to the fabric store to look at patterns and choose their costumes. (I will do the rest of them in later phases.)

Fun as this sounds, it was not. At first they couldn't find anything they liked. Then they found inappropriate or too difficult or too expensive things. Then, they couldn't decide on the proper fabric. Then, when the fabric was cut, they changed their mind and wanted to be something else (not a chance, bucko). Then, the baby's diaper blew out in a messy way, in the middle of the long fabric cutting line and she decided to scream about it for the rest of our visit. Next, one of the items I chose didn't have a price and we had to stand there while a slow-as-molasses sales person meandered back to see if she could find something similar to scan. (I finally sent Joey, who returned with the proper item before the tortoise had even rounded the first corner). Nothing but fun, I tell you. And it only continued as we got home and the "when will it be done" and "why aren't you working on it yet" questions began.

3. We all went bowling tonight. To be fair, overall it actually WAS pretty fun. But, when you are at home thinking about how great it will be for the whole family to be together out doing something so special and rare, you forget about some of the details. Like the toddler who, the second you aren't looking, rolls a ball down someone else's lane. And the pitcher of soda that was spilled nearly the instant it arrived, making everyone's bowling shoes sticky. And the mix up of the bowling order that caused one child to tank a frame on someone else's score, resulting in a bit of strong feedback from one child to another.

However, watching Tony trot to the edge of the lane, shove the ball down it, wait breathlessly to see if any pins fell down and finally shout, "Yay, Tony!" (accompanied by enthusiastic self-applause) made the entire experience worthwhile.

Yes, indeed. Family fun. Exactly as a sane person might have imagined it would be in the first place. But not a crazy optimist like me. An optimist who is already excited about our next family adventure.

"Hold Her"

That's what I have been hearing, over and over again the last few weeks: "Hold her. Hold her."

Meaning, "Please, mom, can I hold Isabella?"

So, I let him.

The scene is always quickly followed by Tony's cheerful and emphatic "Done!", sometimes even within 2 or 3 seconds.

But oh, how sweet those precious seconds are.

That's My Boy

The one wearing the "England" shirt on Independence Day. David Beckham's jersey, to be exact, brought home from Jay's most recent visit to London.

He says he chose it because it was red, white and blue. Yet, when I pointed out he was supporting the very country from who we won the independence we were celebrating, he considered that to be a bonus rather than a problem. Not because he dislikes America. Not because our family is anything short of fiercely proud to be Americans. Just because he's Joey. (And I wouldn't have him any other way.)

My contrary child. I can't wait until he's 14.

12 Years

Who knew 12 years ago today when I married Jay that I would love him more now than I did on that perfect, wonderful day? I didn't, because I didn't think it was possible. But, as it turns out, I do.

Because, 12 years ago, I did not know what an amazing father he would be. With the birth of each child, my wonder at his fathering abilities increases. I am grateful beyond words that God chose this man to be daddy to my children. For he is far more than their provider. He is their role model, their companion and playmate, their security and their beacon...much as he is all of these things and more to me.

12 years ago, I did not know how his devotion to God would grow, and how that would become the pillar of strength that keeps our family so strong and happy.

I did not know then, as I do now, how hard he would work to provide well for his family, both at his job and around the house. I did not know how unflappable and reassuring he would be when life threw unexpected curves our way.

How could I have known that he would put the needs of all of his dependents in front of his own? I hoped, but could not be sure, that he would still tell me he loves me every day. And he does.

12 years later, he is still taking out the garbage, agreeably eating whatever I cook and putting up with my eccentricities. Not to mention changing diapers, mowing the lawn and assembling whatever random thing enters the house. It is in these little day to day things, done willingly and with good cheer, that I feel his love most of all. Lucky, lucky me. Lucky ALL of us.

Happy anniversary, Jay.

Four Months Old Already

Plus almost a week! Time flies...

Anyway, Isabella is now old enough to enjoy what one of my friends called "baby Vegas", her very own station of fun to be enjoyed while mom is preparing dinner, rotating laundry, or whatever needs to be done without a baby in arms.

I couldn't get a great shot of her because she was so busy bouncing up and down and reaching for the toys, but at least you can see that her signature tongue is still frequently on display.

Jay will be assembling her crib this week. She has become such a nighttime scooter that she is becoming a hazard in our bed. She lodges herself in the space between the mattress and the headboard and tunnels through barrier pillows as well. It's about time the all night snack bar closes for her as well. We will all sleep better, I'm sure. But I still am always sad when this milestone arrives, because I love her snuggled next to me.

Happy 1/3 birthday, my growing girl!

I Shouldn't Have Answered the Door Today

There is a boy who lives across the street from us who loves to come over and play. He is a nice enough kid, about 6 years old, who is an only child of dual working parents. He is alone a lot and likes the contrasting liveliness of our house. I welcome him over to play with the kids because I think it is good for him, and because my kids enjoy the addition of just about anyone to their mix.

Unfortunately, however, he is one of those kids you have to watch all the time because he seems to be lacking in common sense and the ability to follow directions. Most of the time my life gets easier when another child comes to play because it engages and occupies my children. But when this kid comes over it is work for me. Today was no exception.

It started with the dog. Our neighbor boy is a small child and claims to be afraid of the 200 pound puppy (now, who could believe THAT?!). So, I gave him very specific instructions about how to avoid engaging our playful giant. "Ignore him, don't run by him, pretend he's not there and he'll leave you alone." Simple enough, and quite effective when employed. So what does he do? Finds a squirt gun and walks straight up to the dog and starts shooting him in the mouth. Then he acts indignant when the dog runs after him barking. The boy was kindly corrected, took about a 10 minute break from this activity and then began anew. The second correction was not as kind and seemed to sink in.

Next came an aquatic adventure. The safety cover was off the pool because three of my kids were actively swimming when our friend arrived and continued to do so throughout his visit. Now, this boy cannot swim, so we've had many, many conversations with him about how it is NOT OK to come in our gate, walk by the pool, etc., etc. Luckily, I never considered for one second that any of this actually penetrated his consciousness and I watched him very carefully during this visit, even more carefully than usual because the pool was open. So, when I saw him approaching the deep end of the pool pushing a bicycle, I was already on my feet and headed his way when he inevitably plunged in, bike and all.

I am a trained lifeguard and water safety instructor (I even rescued a six year old boy back when it was my summer job), so I was never actually scared. It was not difficult to pull this spluttering, sinking, completely panicked child out of the water. No, I was not afraid. Just annoyed. REALLY ANNOYED. Because I had to jump in the deep end, fully clothed and rescue this kid because he is clueless.

The poor kid was really shaken up, although I still cannot understand why he was surprised that he sunk when he knows he can't swim and he, to my eye, almost dared himself to fall in. I have never seen eyes so wide. He kept saying, "I am SO sorry, I am SO sorry." I tried to be kind, and I think I marginally succeeded, but even as I was swimming him to the side of the pool I was already reading him the riot act. I might have waited until he was dry, but I could not. I didn't even think to give the poor kid a towel (it's OK, it was 98 degrees outside) much less any sympathy. I marched him, both of us dripping, right across the street and delivered him to his mom who seemed relatively unconcerned about the incident, simply telling her son that if he didn't listen better he couldn't come play at my house anymore. To top it off, she looked at me and said, "Oh, it looks like you went swimming too." That was too much for me. I emphatically said, "Yes, I HAD TO JUMP IN AND SAVE YOUR SON BECAUSE HE FELL IN MY POOL AND HE CANNOT SWIM!" She answered this by letting me know that he was taking lessons. I can only give her the benefit of the doubt and say she must have had trouble processing exactly what happened. Either that or we simply have drastically different parenting styles.

Anyway, today I had a healthy reminder of what a liability both a backyard pool and a large dog can be. No matter how clueless a child or indifferent his parent may be, if something were to happen to this child at my home, it would be my fault. The very thought makes me want to fill in the pool and sedate the dog. Or never, ever, have anyone over. Ever. But we can't live life like this, can we? We can only take prudent precautions and pray, pray, pray. If we start engaging in "what ifs", we would cease to live at all.

But perhaps, just to be safe, this particular child should not be allowed in my yard in the future. Let's just hope he can't find anything life-threatening upstairs in the play room. Wait a minute...are the screens barred?!

Brownie Points

If you're a girl in a huge family who just wants to spend a little alone time with her parents, I recommend that you join a Brownie troop. Through the various events sponsored by an active council, you can be just like an only child...for a few wonderful hours.

Last Saturday Jay and Lindsey went to a Father-Daughter dance. Needless to say, this mom got a bit emotional seeing the two of them go off together, all gussied up and delighted to be in each other's company. I curled Lindsey's hair (for the first time!) and she looked like a true princess in her gown with her ringlets. There were corsages and boutonnieres, lots of fun (Macarena, anyone? Electric Slide?!) and, of course, Cold Stone Creamery afterwards.

Before they went, Lindsey asked me what they would be doing at the dance since it is a well-known fact in our family that daddy doesn't dance. Ever. I assured her that Jay would muster up some dancing because he loves her so very much. She didn't miss a beat when asking why, then, didn't he allow dancing of any kind at our wedding. Didn't he love me too, she wondered? Hmm. Good question, Lindsey. I'll have to think hard about an answer to that one. Still thinking...

A few weeks before, Lindsey and I (and Isabella, of course) went to Brownie Mother-Daughter Bowling. We had a really great time. The only sad part was that, even with the gutter rails up, I STILL couldn't break 100. It's an embarrassment, really. But it didn't mar our day at all.

While we're on the topic of Lindsey, I should report that she had the pleasure of seeing the orthodontist today.

As you can see, her permanent teeth are coming in crooked and, as I found out, orthodontic treatment begins much earlier now than it did when I had my braces (at 14-16 years old). Apparently, her jaw is too small for the teeth that are coming in. At one time this was corrected by extracting teeth to make more room, but now her mouth will actually be spread to be made big enough to accommodate all her teeth. This process began today with molds and spacers and will continue with a spreading appliance placed in about two weeks. In about three months she will get braces, which she will wear for approximately 15 months and then we will wait and see whether she needs further treatment after the rest of her permanent teeth come in.

I was delighted to learn that we have orthodontic benefits provided so thoughtfully by Jay's employer. They cover half of this first phase and I am tickled pink. I have decided that he is not allowed to leave his employer until all of our children have been evaluated for orthodontia. Not that he wants to leave this job that he loves, thankfully! But I'm just being practical. Six kids, you know. That's a lot of teeth.

So, to summarize the message of this post: join a Brownie troop and find a job that offers good dental insurance. My advice, for what it's worth.

Thirsty

What do you do if you're outside and and you decide you want a drink?

If you have opposable thumbs, you simply turn on the hose bib and help yourself to some water.

If, however, you happen to be a 200lb puppy, you just rip the entire hose bib out of the wall and enjoy the gushing, unstoppable fountain of water it produces.

Never mind that there was an ENTIRE bucket of water right next to the hose from which you could drink...because the resident toddler threw some dirt in there and, even though you might eat some pretty disgusting things, you most definitely draw the line at cloudy water.

Thumbs. Who needs 'em?

Peaceful

It is very quiet in my house.

This is quite unusual. Normally, if I want quiet, I have to leave. But this time, the noise left me! Or most of it, anyway.

Tonight Jay, Joey, Lindsey, Sam and Julia are camping out on the field of the Lancaster Jethawks stadium. (The Jethawks are a minor league affiliate of the Boston Red Sox.) It is Girl Scout Night, so many local troops are camping there, about 200 people in all. Lindsey was happy to share her Scouting event with the whole family...unlike another, nameless family member who wants it to just be dad and him when it is Boy Scout night. We don't call him "daddy hog" for nothing!

Anyway, we all went to the game, and then I brought Tony and Isabella home. Even though camping on an outfield of a sports stadium is WAY preferable to sleeping in dirt as far as I'm concerned, I was still not willing to spend the night in one tent-room with a toddler and an infant. Call me selfish if you want...

I just talked to Jay and heard that they are having a great time. They were eating s'mores and getting ready to watch a movie on the stadium's jumbo-tron. I am very glad he is willing to do these sorts of things with the kids, because if it were up to me they would likely have been deprived of this wholesome event. Hauling tents, sleeping bags and coolers is just not up my alley. But I'm really glad they are enjoying it together.

Meanwhile, having just two little ones at home with me this evening is a relative piece of cake. It is hard to believe that at one time I would have been completely overwhelmed with a toddler and infant alone (I was, of course, when Joey and Lindsey were little). I can see from this how I have grown as a mom, that with experience all things become easier. I'm glad I have so many kids so I can enjoy the fruits of my hard-earned experience!

Well, my NICE, SOFT, CLEAN bed is beckoning. I will be appreciating it--and Jay--all the more tonight, knowing that Jay is on the ground for love of the children.

Tagged for "8 Random Facts" Meme

I have been tagged by Nutmeg to complete the "8 Random Facts" Meme.

“For this meme, each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.”

1. I can't stand to have dirt on my hands or feet, nor can I stand it when they are excessively dry. I am constantly washing and applying lotion to both. For this reason, I won't wear sandals anytime I might be walking in dirt, and I almost always wear socks or slippers, even when it's really hot. This persistent quirk of mine virtually eliminates camping from my list of "fun things to do with the family" and has kept me from gardening (until recently, when I discovered the joy of garden gloves).

2. I can resist many things, but I nearly always succumb to warm chocolate chip cookies (without nuts).

3. Planning for, cooking, and cleaning up after dinner are less effort for me combined than actually plating the food and getting it to the table. I don't know why this is.

4. No matter what I'm doing, I always feel like I should be doing something else. This is somewhat unsettling.

5. I like (and watch) some morally void television: Grey's Anatomy and Desperate Housewives, to be specific. I love these shows. Somewhere deep down my conscience is telling me that I should probably watch things more consistent with my personal values, but for now I am adopting Scarlett O'Hara's motto: "I'll think about that tomorrow." Because the truth is, I am not ready to give these up. And who says I'm getting no moral direction? After all, I've most certainly learned from Gabrielle Solis to never, ever sleep with my gardener (if I had one, of course!).

6. I am currently engaged in a "100 day challenge", sponsored by myself, to stick to the Weight Watchers program. I am competitive by nature and find it easier to work toward a challenge than to simply watch what I eat. For each of 100 consecutive days that I stick to the Weight Watchers point system, I will allow myself $5 toward the purchase of living room furniture (our living room has been empty ever since we moved in, more than a year ago, and only I care about filling it so it has never bubbled to the top of our priority list). I am currently on Day 10 (10% done already!) and will end September 6th. I hope to lose 20 lbs (10 from Isabella and 10 from Tony), but my final weight is less important to me than simply sticking to the plan for 100 days. Wish me luck!

7. I am not a dog person. I used to be, and I wish I were still, but alas I am not. This quality left me right about the time I had children. At some point, dogs became messy and inconvenient rather than cute and companionable. I mourn this change in my character, all the more actively because of the very messy and inconvenient presence of our soon to be 200+ pound Mastiff puppy. But, as I heard Dr. Laura advise someone just today: keeping a harmonious home, where the people matter more than the mess, is the "right thing to do". That ridiculous animal makes my husband really, really happy, and he matters more than the mess and inconvenience.

8. Speaking of my husband, I would rather spend time with him than do anything else on earth. Period. It doesn't have to be alone time (although I love that rare treat too!)--I am delighted to share him with the kids, extended family and friends, as long as he is here. I am only truly settled when we are in the same place.

How's that for random? I don't know 8 people to tag since most of the blogs I read have already done this one. So, I tag Andrea and all you non-bloggers who read this (just complete it in my comment section).

Mottos For The Home Stretch

Summer is on its way, and no one is more excited than me.

The last few weeks of school are so stressful and busy that I actually need two full months to brace myself for the next school year!

"One day at a time" is my motto right now, because every day has its tasks: bring bagged lunches for the Kindergartners to donate to St. Vincent de Paul, remember to cut the 8th grade scholarship checks in time for their graduation breakfast (I'm the treasurer), don't forget to send in a special snack so the class can celebrate Sam's summer birthday before school lets out, etc., etc., etc. Obviously, these are all worthwhile items, but when there are three or more of these types of things for every single day between now and June 15th, it gets to be too much for this mom. And, don't forget, I'm trying to cram in the rest of Joey's lessons so he will be done at the same time as the other kids. Whew!

Usually, homeschoolers have the benefit of not having to jump through all the physical school-related hoops to balance all the time that giving the actual lessons takes. I, however, have all of those hoops (for two different schools) in addition to the homeschooling time because I'm the dummy that mixes the two concepts! But, still, I wouldn't change it. "What every child needs" is another motto of mine, and we are living that one.

At any rate, June 15th can't come fast enough for me. "I think I can, I think I can..."

Microcosms

Our family spent a totally delightful afternoon at a Knights of Columbus BBQ today. It was specifically designed for the new Knights to get better involved with the organization, so there were lots of younger men with children there in addition to the old guard. There were sack races, water balloon fights, organized sports, horseshoes, a jumper, cotton candy, etc., etc. so needless to say the kids--and the adults--had a great time.

For those of you who don't know much about the Knights of Columbus, it is a Catholic, fraternal organization. It makes money through the sale of insurance (and, at least in our area, an active bingo program), and then generously delivers this money back to the community. Our Knights support the local Catholic schools, all sorts of youth ministries, the pregnancy resource center, the list goes on and on.

Jay has really found a home with the Knights. To him, it is the perfect marriage of prayer and beer. To me, it is a "who's who" in our community, a gathering of all the people who share our family's values. These are the people I want to invest time with, the people whose children I want my children to know. And they're all conveniently together in one banquet hall, event after event!

It was surprising to me, then, to hear that some people don't care too much for the Knights as an organization. The comment was made, by someone who was not from our area, that the Knights are Catholic in name only, that they are really just a social club. Here in Lancaster, that could not be farther from the truth. These are the men you see at daily mass. These men, especially the older ones, are doing everything they can to support and sustain young families. This organization, through their generous donations, helped to save more than 200 babies last year alone by keeping the pregnancy resource center open. These men support our priests. In fact, all three of our priests are Knights. Until I heard this comment, I had assumed that all Knights of Columbus councils are just like ours, but apparently they are not.

The same can be said of the Cub Scouts. I was talking to someone recently who was telling me what a nightmare participation in the Scouts had been for her son. Our experience with our den has been nothing short of wonderful over the past two years. The parents are involved, the kids get along well together, the pack is active. I did not know that this was not universal.

Before these recent conversations, I hadn't really considered how different the same organization can be in various places. We are so used to chains, like McDonald's, where no matter where you go the offering is completely predictable. But this is not true of social and philanthropic organizations, apparently. What matters is the people making them happen wherever you are.

But, as Jay rightly pointed out to me tonight, in addition to mattering where you are, it also matters who you are. People join these types of organizations for different reasons, and a lot of a person's experience depends on the expectations going in, and how much of oneself one is willing to bring to the table. Jay and I, for example, tend to be "joiners". We jump in and volunteer for lots of things, and, because of this, we get to know other members fairly quickly and feel comfortable in how things are done. Someone who prefers to get involved by sticking a toe at a time in the water might find it to be tepid and unfriendly.

Regardless of how or why, I believe that we have found some lovely (and, apparently, all-too-rare) microcosms in our life. We live in a community that may be physically dry and barren, but it is quite lush and fertile in producing people of character. We are fortunate to be among them.

A Bad Tooth Day

So, you know how when you move it can take you awhile to get into the swing of your new community? Things like figuring out where the grocery store, the dry cleaner and the post office are happen right away. Finding a pediatrician, when you have six kids, follows shortly after. Inevitably, however, some things lag behind. Such as finding a dentist.

I am ashamed to admit that it has been nearly two years since I have been to the dentist. I went regularly before we moved but just haven't dealt with finding a new dentist down here. I took the kids to their old dentist last summer for checkups when we were in town for bible camp, and this only further reduced my urgency to take care of this detail of our new life.

In the last month or so, Julia has been complaining of a toothache, so I finally had to get my act together and find a dentist. I asked people for recommendations and finally settled on a family dentist rather than the pediatric/adult dual dentist situation I had up north. Simplify, simplify! Anyway, in making the appointment for Julia I figured I had better get myself taken care of too and since I had already picked a dentist for us all, I had no further excuses.

Now, I figured I would need a little work. A thorough cleaning. A repair of a chip in some old bonding. An old silver filling that looked as if it had seen better days. But since I take pretty good care of my teeth by flossing regularly and using a sonicare toothbrush, I was in no way prepared for what his high-tech tooth camera made very clear, even to my untrained eyes: my teeth are a mess!

I need--now brace yourself--two crowns and 12 fillings. Yes, I did say 12. As in a dozen. I really should be too embarrassed to admit this in a public forum, but since becoming a mother I have no pride left, so what the hey.

It would be my inclination to believe this new dentist was exaggerating my need for dental work in an effort to fill his pockets, but I could not ignore the visual evidence. I myself could see large fractures in two molars, hairline fractures in two more. These teeth are just waiting for the crunchy tidbit that will split them in half. The old silver fillings were literally crumbling and I could see the dark pits of cavities in previously healthy teeth. To top this off, I need some sort of special deep cleaning to repair the gum damage I did in letting my teeth go uncleaned for so long.

I asked the dentist if this was some sort of record, and he said, to my chagrin, that my teeth weren't bad at all compared to some he had seen. How scary is that?! He further "reassured" me by saying that my teeth were simply aging along with the rest of me. Soothing, that comment was, let me tell you.

At any rate, he and I are about to become good friends, I'm afraid. Just how I wanted to spend my summer...in the dentist's chair.

Now doesn't this make you want to go and brush?

The Unlikely Gardener

Those of you who know me well know that I don't have a green thumb. It's more like a black thumb, since any plant I touch suffers a certain, rapid death.

I have never been able to understand this. I am an intelligent, determined person, and almost anything I really want to do, I can at least become proficient at. But so far, gardening has eluded me.

Even my littlest kids know I am famous for this. Which is why, when they saw me plant a few things in our still-sparse yard this week, they actually mourned the plants in advance. "Why do you want to kill those nice plants, mom?!"

This insult is added to injury because both my mother and mother-in-law are talented gardeners, who can grow pretty much anything (although both specialize in spectacular roses). So the kids like to throw in helpful comments like, "Why don't you just let grandma do that, because she won't kill them." Thanks, kids.

At any rate, I have been taken down with a case of spring planting fever and am, once again, trying my hand at gardening. I, who couldn't even successfully plant in fertile Northern California, am attempting to create Eden in the High Desert, a place where even the best gardeners have trouble thanks to our extreme hots and colds, high winds and sandy soil. I am doomed to fail, yet I am enthusiastically trying again.

Why? Because I love to see green when I look outside, and there isn't a lot of that here naturally. Because if I can nurture six children, shouldn't I be able to keep a few plants alive? Because anything that beats me down only makes me more determined to succeed.

I am not flying blindly. When we planned the hardscape for our dirt lot over a year ago, our landscape designer threw in a planting plan that included plants suited for our desert climate. So, today I began executing that plan by planting Purple Fountain Grasses, Daylilies, Rosemary and Roses. Tomorrow I will attempt to find and plant a California Glory Flannelbush, some Blue Oat Grasses, some Honeysuckle, some Lion's Tail and a Foxtail Agave. We have a very large planting perimeter so I have begun with a 16 x 3 foot section to see how it goes. If I am even marginally successful I will extend that area on both sides until I have completed the plan.

I am mostly buying from Lowes who has a one year guarantee on all plants, and you can bet I'm saving those receipts. I will likely be needing them.

That's Why I Married Him

I was a grump today. G-R-U-M-P.

This certainly would have been a good day to practice the Christian virtue of cheerfulness, but I did not take advantage of this opportunity. Rather, I groused and grumbled through the whole day.

After a long afternoon of bickering children and little patience on my part, I finally met up with Jay, who took one look at me and declared "family ice cream night!" He took us all to Baskin Robbins, insisting that I partake as a medicinal measure.

I love that man.

Three Months Old Already

Happy baby, light in our family, gift from God. What a joy you are, Isabella! Just three months in the family, yet we already can't imagine ever having been without you.

Sacraments and Milestones

It was a big weekend here at the Di Silvestri house.

Isabella was baptized on Saturday by our friend, Deacon Ron. He baptized 18 babies in an hour and a half, and these baptisms were sandwiched in between two (of five) first communion services for the religious education students of our parish. What a beautiful reminder of how active our thriving parish is (although I must admit that I did enjoy the individual baptisms of our other children in our smaller, quieter parish in Northern California)!

Here is sweet Isabella with her godparents, Colin and Melissa:

Isabella is wearing the same "white garment" that all of her siblings and, more notably, her father, were baptized in. I love this tradition and truly hope it will live on another generation.

The next day, Sunday, was Joey's 9th birthday, and we had a big party to celebrate. This was truly wonderful, because Joey has not had a birthday party since we moved down South. It was hard for him to leave his friends up north and it took him awhile to make friends down here. Being homeschooled this year has not helped speed this friend-making process up, so I was thrilled when he decided he wanted to have a party this year, and even more thrilled when I realized that he actually does have quite a few friends down here now, and that they are a really great bunch of kids.

There were about 25 kids at Joey's party. They were from Sacred Heart School (boys he met when he attended there last year and still sees at school events we attend with his still-enrolled siblings), from his Cub Scout pack and from his baseball team. In addition, there were friends he made in one grandmother's neighborhood and one grandmother's Daughters of Norway group.

This was a milestone birthday for me, as it marks him halfway to adulthood. Gulp. How can this be? How can my active mothering of Joey be halfway over? I can't think about this too much or I get unbearably sad. Nine years from now the children will begin the flying away process and I can't bear to think of it. I am well aware that I am currently living the best years of my life, years when all of my children are safely at home and we are all together. I don't want this to end! But, alas, it must. And, those who have been through the teenage years tell me that, in another nine years, I will actually be ready. Perhaps they are right, but I can't imagine it from where I sit now.

At any rate, Joey, I wish you a very happy birthday. You are such an amazing person. I love spending time with you. You are clever, funny, insightful and loving. You have a generous heart and a genuine concern for others. I am very proud of the young man you are growing to be and feel so privileged to be your mother. I plan to treasure the remaining half of your childhood with all of my heart. I love you!

Happy Birthday, Julia!

So, I'm running a bit late. Her birthday was last Sunday (Mother's Day). But anyone who reads this blog knows that my motto is "better late than never", so I had to stop and wish Julia a very happy 4th birthday.

Julia Mae, our dear, sweet daughter, we love you so very much! My big helper, our fish-girl (because she loves to swim so much), Isabella and Tony's nurturing big sister. You are all of these things and many more. You are a bright light in our family and we are so glad God sent you to us four years ago.

Happy, happy birthday!

Finding Equilibrium

After many combinations, they finally found one that worked for good teeter-tottering.

Isn't this like life? We're all searching for balance, and only through trial and error can we figure out what works.

And, just when we think we've got it figured out, someone gets off and we start all over again.

Abbey Road

Thanks to the magic of the internet, we were able to be tourists with Jay this morning. Here he is, crossing Abbey Road at roughly 4pm London time today:

Thank you, Abbey Road webcam, for bringing us this fine family moment!

Someday

Someday I will be able to sleep as late as I want to on Mother's Day. But this Mother's Day I was awakened early with a coo and greeted with a wet, gummy baby smile.

Lucky me.

Someday I will be served breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. But this Mother's Day I hopped out of bed and served my small children breakfast because my husband was up early himself, frantically assembling a basketball hoop for his son in the garage, only because he thought everyone was still sleeping.

What a wonderful dad my children have.

Someday I will receive sophisticated gifts from grown children on Mother's Day. But this Mother's Day I opened hand drawn cards with wobbly printing, filled with treasures from their hearts: a hand beaded rosary, a colored rose with a child's photo in the middle, a paper flower, earrings to replace ones my son noticed I had lost.

Could there be better gifts?

Someday I won't have to do any work on Mother's Day. But this Mother's Day, after eating a delicious brunch prepared by a loving husband, I diligently cleaned the kitchen as he raced out the door to catch a plane for a week-long business trip to England.

How lucky we are that Jay has a job that provides for us so well.

I sure hope "someday" takes it time in arriving.

Survival Training

Tonight I was busy at work around the house while the kids were playing, relatively harmoniously, all together. I tuned in and out to what they were doing, keeping an ear out for high-level arguments, extreme mess making and physical harm, but was mostly delighted that they were leaving me alone to get some much needed housework out the way.

As I passed through their play space, it began to dawn on me that their game was oddly familiar. Some sort of ritual I had witnessed dozens of times. I slowed down to make sense of it, and this is what I saw: Joey was standing expectantly over the kids with a box in his hand, looking official. Lindsey, Sam and Julia were scribbling madly on pieces of paper. As I watched, they folded them and placed them in the box, taking a seat on the floor when they were done. Joey said, in a very familiar cadence, "I'll go tally the votes."

Darned if they weren't voting one of themselves out, Survivor-style. Out of what, I don't know (the family?! I hope not!) but it had something to do with sharing Joey's popcorn while we watched American Idol later in the evening, so I wasn't too alarmed.

There are two shows we watch as a family each week: Survivor and American Idol. We really enjoy this time, predicting together what will happen next. We especially love the challenges on Survivor. The kids talk about them all week. So, I knew they were in to Survivor, but I was nonetheless stunned at how dead-on Joey's impersonation of Jeff Probst was, and how perfectly the children carried out their role as voters without any instruction. They knew just what to do, each playing their part.

This reminds me of what sponges kids are. I figured they were just understanding the challenges, but the social aspects of the show are not lost on them either. They see everything, processing at a subconscious level as well as at the surface. I don't have a problem with what they absorb from a show like Survivor, but I should never assume that anything we watch with them is over their head.

I must say, Joey was not a bad host. Now, if one of them could just bring home the million dollars...

By the way, the Di Silvestri picks for the winners are nearly unanimous in our family: Blake (although after last night's performances the vote is in a minority split for Jordin) for American Idol and Yeoman for Survivor. We shall see!

Every Day's A Party

"Ahh, you're having a party!" said the cheerful pizza delivery man at the door, as he looked past me, through the house and out to the yard where masses of squealing children were running around in bathing suits.

"Nope." I replied. "Tonight it's just us."

I Suppose I Deserved It

Yesterday at the school picnic, Jay brought folding chairs for us to sit in. He gave me the nice one and took the aging one for himself. So you'd think I'd have been really kind and sympathetic to him when he sat down, cracked the chair and rolled over backwards onto the grass. But no. I laughed, as I have a tendency to do in these situations (remember Joey riding his bike into the pool?) Yep, I had a real good laugh. Naturally, if he had been hurt (or Isabella, since he was holding her at the time and did a fantastic job of keeping her safe during his tumble) I wouldn't have laughed. But he looked so, well, surprised, that I just couldn't help myself. I laughed, along with him, until tears were running down my face.

When I got home, I took Isabella out of her car seat and perched on one of our wicker and wood bar stools in the kitchen to nurse her while I watched the kids running around in the back yard. To my total surprise, with a loud crack the chair broke into three pieces and down I went onto the tile. Poor Isabella. Twice in one day! Poor me! My tailbone hit the tile hard but, miraculously, someone had left one of those gardening kneeling pads on the floor and my head landed there so I was fine. So was Isabella, although she was not happy about the sudden movement or the noise.

Karma? Divine justice? Something! This must have been a case of the universe evening things up. It is true that what goes around comes around, it's just usually not in the same day. And what Isabella had to do with it, I'll never know.

Perhaps I should attempt to contain my amusement at the future comic misfortunes of my beloved family members. Perhaps we should begin a family diet.

The Karate Champ...and Success in General

Warning, maternal bragging ahead. Proceed with caution!

The Karate Kid (Sam) can go by a new title now: Karate Champ! In his first tournament, my young son brought home a second place trophy for foot sweeping. This is significant because he was the only white belt in his group--he competed against gold and purple belts, and still only lost to one kid (a purple belt). In addition, he earned a gold medal for his performance in team foot sweeping.

His teacher told Jay after the match, "Sammy is an animal!" Odd, but that is the exact same words his soccer coach used last fall. Animal. I'm not sure if I should be proud or dismayed, but it does seem to be an accurate description of Sam in any competition.

I'll say this for Sam: he is not afraid. Some of the other kids danced around each other, waiting for the right time to make their move. Not Sam. As soon as he got the start signal he went for it, bam. I guess this surprised his opponents. Whatever works, eh?

Anyway, it was a good sports day all around for our family. After the tournament we went to the Sacred Heart School family picnic where the kids played the parents in softball. Joey had a great hit, first pitch, and I was thrilled for him. Then, to my surprise, Lindsey and Sam, neither of whom had ever played baseball before, also got base hits. At one point, the bases were loaded with Di Silvestris. That was a nice moment for me.

It is such a joy for a mother to see her children succeed, and I have seen a lot of that lately, not just on the sports field, either. All of the kids are doing well in school, and Joey in particular has made great strides of late. They are playing well together most of the time, some taking a leadership role, some accepting that leadership. They are taking more responsibility around the house and with a generally good attitude. It is wonderful to see.

Go team Di Silvestri!

Overheard at a Catholic School

A friend, whose children attend a Catholic school in Los Angeles county, shared this conversation that she overheard in the parking lot:

Child: Mom, will you be at my show today?

Mom: No, I'm sorry, sweetie, I have a hair appointment.

Child: Please?!

Mom: No, I'm sorry, I just can't.

Child: PLEASE?!

Mom (now frustrated): Sweetie, if Jesus himself came down from heaven to give me a blessing I could not be there. I HAVE A HAIR APPOINTMENT!

* * *

It's not like I've never missed an event or two for selfish reasons. But, I'm quite certain that I would be able to make it if Jesus was passing out blessings.

Did I mention my friend is changing to another Catholic school where the parents actually practice the faith? I don't blame her.

Intricacies of the Human Brain

While I was going through Lindsey's homework folder, I noticed the way she wrote her name in one of her workbooks:

Notice how her first name is completely backwards--not only the order of the letters, but the letters themselves (most of them, anyway). It seems as if she wrote this while looking in a mirror. Yet, our last name, written at the same time is correct.

Lindsey writes her name properly most of the time, but once in awhile it pops out backwards like this. Sometimes every single one of the letters is backwards, not just most as in this sample. She doesn't realize it when she does it; nothing looks odd to her until it is pointed out.

I don't think I could do this if I tried, and I don't think she could either. It is something involuntary, some strange quirk of the brain that she doesn't consciously control. It demonstrates to me how complicated and mysterious our brains are.

Fascinating, don't you think?

Our Growing Church

Today the Catholic Church welcomed a new member...our goddaughter Julia Elizabeth.

I have participated in the baptism of five of my own children (soon, six) and the baptisms of our six godchildren, so I can attest firsthand to the beauty of this sacrament. In addition to being greatly moved by the baptisms of those I am close to, I am also the one in tears during the Easter vigil mass, when people I don't even know die and rise again in Christ.

At today's reception, Julia's father referred to baptism as a mystery, and truly it is. We know from scripture that a baptized person belongs forever to Christ and, through this sacrament, receives the gifts of the Holy Spirit. We know that baptism takes away original sin. We don't know how and we don't know why, but we believe it to be true.

Jesus was baptized by John at the very beginning of his public life. Did Jesus need to be washed clean of original sin? Of course not. He did it as an example for us, to show us what he expects of us. Later, he explicitly told his disciples to go forth, making disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. There is no doubt that Jesus asked us to do this. So we do it, joyfully and faithfully, even without perfect understanding.

Many people do not comprehend why infants should be baptized, since it is not their conscious choice but that of their parents. To me, infant baptism is all the more beautiful for just this reason. When Joey was baptized, I cried through the whole ceremony. The priest stopped and asked me why I was crying since it was a joyful occasion. I explained it was because I realized that God had given me the great gift of my child, and that now I was giving him back to God. For whatever reason, the simple truth and beauty of this act moved me to tears of joy. I was quite sure that God would take care of this child that was all His, and that He would give me the grace to raise him on His behalf. Baptism is my promise on behalf of my children. I promise I will raise them to Christ and He seals them as His own. The children will make their own promises later, when they are confirmed.

Isabella will be baptized in three weeks. (I will be needing a new tube of waterproof mascara.)

Welcome to the church, Julia Elizabeth. We will do everything we can to support your parents in raising you to know and love God. You will be forever in our prayers.

Laundry Treasure

Among the more interesting items to emerge from my wash cycle:

Now THAT package screams freshness. Or long shelf life. Or something.

This made it through my high-efficiency washer and commercial-level dryer practically unscathed. I could actually feed these to my children still.

Truly amazing. And a little scary.

Trouble

In a convenient, pint-sized package.

I Swear This Stuff Finds ME!

So there I was, innocently grocery shopping at a Vons I don't normally go to but is close enough to my house. I was looking for one little ingredient I needed for dinner. I rounded the corner, minding my own business, and WHAM! There it was.

Yep, you guessed it. It was Panda Express, in all its Orange Chicken glory, mocking me, beckoning me. I wasn't thinking about it, I wasn't looking for it, yet there it was. I didn't even know they HAD Panda Express inside Vons. Starbucks, yes, but Panda?!

I was strong. I resisted. (Luckily, I had just had lunch, otherwise I would have been a goner.) The victory was won.

But I have a sneaking suspicion that I have found myself a new grocery store.

Congratulations, Angels!

FINALLY, the Angels of Quartz Hill Little League have won a game! Yippee, yahoo! They have been close, even against very good teams, but for the first time last night they officially put one away.

Would it be bragging to mention that my very own son contributed to the winning score? Good, I didn't think so.

These days I have only been able to see snippets of the games, as I am busy keeping track of the problem child...you know, the one who is only content if he is climbing something he is sure to fall off of, eating pieces of random trash he finds on the ground, or running into the parking lot at breakneck speed. But what I do see I enjoy.

While watching, I feel the pressure these kids are under to make the catch, hit the pitch and generally not screw up in front of the crowd and their teammates. I was never cut out to play team sports, so I am extra proud of Joey for just being there, not to mention scoring a run or stopping a play in the outfield.

Go, Angels! May you win again soon!

Two Months Old Already

She smiles. She coos. She is a mellow, happy, beautiful baby. We are so lucky to have her!

I tried and tried to get Isabella to smile and show off her lovely personality for her two month "blog photo" but, unfortunately, this was the mood I had today:




This uncharacteristic (thank goodness) grumpiness was due to our celebration of her 2 month birthday with a series of vaccines that rendered her a bit moody for the rest of the day.


She has been busy gaining weight, although at 11 pounds she is actually not as chubby as she appears here:


You will notice that, in the past month, she has not abandoned her signature tongue-sticking-out look, although I am happy to report that the crossed eyes that often accompanied it have diminished substantially.

Like before, she grew tired of having her photo taken and simply fell over in protest, falling asleep moments after I took this picture:

She was very, very good on retreat with me (which was wonderful, by the way) and was only disruptive by way of repeated hiccups during the benedictions, along with some stuffy nose-related snorting during other quiet times in the chapel. Overall, she was wonderfully supportive of my much-needed grab for peace and for this I am truly grateful!

Happy two months, Izzie Bizzie Bella. We are so glad you are here!

Retreat Time

I'm off on retreat. Look for a new, refreshed version of myself when I return on Monday. Have a great weekend!

Scar Face

Tony scratched Joey in the face a few days ago. This event spawned the following conversation:

Joey: Will this leave a scar?

Me: I don't think so. Maybe a light one for just a few months.

Joey: Darn it!

Me: What? Why do you want a scar on your face?

Joey: So I can look dark and twisted.


Now, why didn't I think of that?

Tony Successfully Expresses His First Multi-Word Concept

"Eye. Bobo."

Since he was gesturing wildly toward Isabella with a pair of kid sunglasses in his hand, I could only translate that as, "Please, mom, put the sunglasses on the baby."

I did so and was rewarded with, "Yay!" accompanied by a jump and raised arms.

Let the communication begin!

If Only I Had Seen It

Today I missed what might have been my all-time favorite kid moment, had I actually witnessed it.

Our pool has one of those heavy-duty covers on it to protect the kids from falling in. Unless we are actively swimming, it is almost always closed. Today the kids went swimming and, when they were done, we did not close the cover right away like we usually do. Tony (our only mobile non-swimmer) was not in the yard and there were adults working outside, so we just hadn't gotten to it.

We were getting ready to go to dinner at a new friend's house for the first time, so I'd had the kids put on Sunday-like clothes to make a good impression. Joey was dressed early and looking sharp, so he went outside to ride his bike around the back yard, as he often does, while waiting for the rest of us to get ready to go.

The next thing I know, a furious, dripping wet Joey is standing in front of my desk, spluttering about how someone had crossed in front of him while he was riding. As Joey swerved to avoid him, he rode his bike right into the pool, fully clothed.

Now, you have to know Joey to appreciate this story completely. He is my wonderful child who loves to be grumpy. That's his thing. Falling into a pool wearing clothes might be funny to many children, but Joey was not amused. He was even less amused by my reaction. Instead of the pity and outrage-on-his-behalf that he expected, I must admit that I laughed--because it was really, really funny! I simply couldn't help myself. He looked so silly with his hair plastered down and his jeans stuck to his legs, heavy and dripping. Naturally, I gave him heartfelt sympathy, too, as I know it had to be a truly unpleasant experience for him. But this was doled out between giggles as I wrung him out, got his clothes in the dryer and helped him find new, suitable clothes to wear.

It was a classic "America's Home Videos" moment, and I missed it! Yet, I still enjoyed it. And am still enjoying it. Even Joey, after he was dry, had to admit begrudgingly that he could see why someone, himself excluded, might find it funny. He knows perfectly well that if it had happened to any one of us he would have been doubled over with laughter.

And so it has been entered into our family lore, and will be repeated over and over again at family gatherings and holidays. Classic.

Rollin' With It

Since it's Spring Break and it's not a school night (I LOVE that!), I took the kids roller skating tonight.

Tuesdays are "Rollin' With Christ" nights at our local skating rink. I have never been to one of these nights before, but saw them advertised when I was at the rink a few months ago for a birthday party. I figured it was a good night to go--since the rink is in a sketchy neighborhood and is a bit run down, I figured I was more likely to find a friendly crowd on a proclaimed Christian night. The gangsters tend to stay away from the Holy Rollers, you know. (Pun intended.)

Anyway, we Catholics are generally not organized roller skaters--or participants in Christian fun nights of any kind, in my experience. Our reputation of being formal and staid is well-earned, with the possible exception of some out-of-the-box youth groups. So, I did not expect to encounter anyone I knew. But I did expect to hear contemporary Christian music that I might be familiar with, such as Third Day or something similar. The Bible Christians, I have found, listen to some really good music.

What I walked into, though, I could have never expected. There was live music provided by "Street Gospel". And it was rap. Authentic rap. Christian rap. I did not know this genre existed. But it does, and apparently it has quite a following in Lancaster. My kids, having had no expectations beyond skating around in circles all night, were not phased by this. But my jaw was on the floor.

As the evening progressed, a Fantasia Barrino-like singer took the mike and belted out some great tunes, and shared her love of Jesus with the crowd. Most people stopped skating at this point and just stood in front of the stage to listen. By this time, I had begun to disassociate rap with gang activity and was enjoying myself.

I was definitely out of my element...musically, racially, athletically, you name it. But we had a great time. Little Julia impressed me immensely as she continually fell and got up again without being at all discouraged. By the time we left she was really getting the hang of it, as was Lindsey. Joey is already a whiz at in-line skates and had fun skating circles around the girls.

It was a cross-cultural experience on wheels, and fun for the whole family, just miles from my home. What a deal!

The Hangover

I have a hangover--actually the whole house does. No, not THAT kind...it's a holiday hangover! Our household is afflicted by this condition each year the day after Christmas and Easter. You are probably familiar with the symptoms: laziness, bloating, and disorder.

When I came down the stairs this morning, the first thing I saw was Easter grass. Lots of it. Everywhere. Sticking to the walls, strewn across the floor, dangling from the dog's mouth, stuck to the bottom of my slippers, and even blowing across the patio outside. Mocking me. Because no matter how many times I sweep and discard, it comes back. I believe it has a half-life.

The kids know how I feel about Easter grass. I had to laugh when the kids, after making an Easter basket craft after church yesterday morning, told the supervisor that they would take theirs home without the grass because their mom hates it so much. (Perhaps I have not kept my feelings to myself on this topic...) I should have been embarassed, but I was only pleased. Sick, I know.

The next thing that encountered me this morning was the packed refrigerator. I was practically knocked on the head by falling ham, lamb and boiled eggs as I reached for the orange juice. Holiday leftovers, crammed into every Tupperware I own. Leftovers that I have to convince my family are really special tasty treats, and aren't we lucky that we get to have them at every meal for the next week straight?

As I attempted to prepare breakfast I noticed the oozing callous on my thumb from the FIVE DOZEN colored eggs I peeled last night to save and devil and make egg salad with. As I proudly presented them to the family I learned that everyone is totally sick of eggs and no one wants any of them, no matter how much mayonnaise I pair them with. Who could have guessed that?

Next, we all continued our post-Lenten gluttony with our leftover breakfast breads, which were restored to their former glory with just a few minutes in the oven. Yum. And yuck, since we became sluggish a mere hour after stuffing ourselves--again.

I often wish that the church portion of the holiday was separated by a day or more from the family gathering and meal portion. I spend some of the time I should be focusing on the religious significance of what I am doing thinking instead of grocery lists and Easter baskets (or stockings). I wish I could compartmentalize them, but alas I cannot.

It helps to go to the holiday vigil masses since they are a day ahead--and extra special. The Easter vigil is the most beautiful mass of the year, in my opinion. This year, I could hardly sing the Gloria because I was so overwhelmed by the joy of the resurrection. When the church goes from darkness into light, it becomes so real to me. But as soon as I get home, this wonder is quickly displaced by busy preparations. I wish I could savor it a little longer.

But, even with the inevitable hangover, I love the family gathering. And I love hosting them. Most of all, I love making holiday magic for the kids that extends from church to home. Their memories will be full of family, laughter and love.

And leftovers.

The Karate Kid

Tonight's family movie: The Karate Kid.

In honor of my own karate kid:

Except for some isolated bad language, this was a great choice for our family movie. Mr. Miyagi has nuggets of wisdom for any situation. For instance, "I say, you do, no questions" works for me daily!

Sam fell asleep 10 minutes in and missed the whole thing. Maybe next time.

Had to Share This

I didn't even know these existed, but what a difference this made in Tony's second haircutting experience.



The first time he got a haircut he cried and twisted, reaching for me the whole time. This time he couldn't have cared less if I was even in the room, so intent was he on steering that car (but not so intent that he let go of his sippy cup, you'll notice).

Anyway, this mom is sending out gratitude to whoever had this wonderful idea. Thanks for a peaceful salon experience. And, Cost Cutters, rest assured you have found yourselves some loyal customers. We'll be baaaaaack!

One Month Old Already

Time sure flies (when you're not pregnant, that is!). Isabella is already a month old and changing right in front of our eyes. I could not get her to look at me for this photo, so busy was she looking at the light coming in from the window off to the side. She spends lots of quiet time awake now, just observing her often chaotic surroundings.

This is her signature look: tongue sticking out slightly between her lips. Cute, but let's face it, only at this stage of her life!

Isabella hasn't smiled for real yet, but grants me plenty of previews through her frequent and oh-so-charming sleep smiles. She, like several of her siblings but neither of her parents, has a dimple in her left cheek. I can't wait to see it in action.

Apparently, the photo session was a bit taxing for her.

She is such a joy and I am so happy she is here. We all are. I am falling in love with my other children all over again, seeing how they love her, care for her and regard her as the miracle that she is.

Who could have understood the many blessings of having such a large family? Not me, but I am here to tell you that they far outweigh the challenges.

Where's the Rest of Her?

This is disturbing on so many levels.

Where is her torso? Where is her head? Where is my 3 year old daughter, who is roughly the same size and will soon be mourning the loss of her "twin"? Where are my husband and son who so desperately wanted this overgrown toddler-puppy? Where is my sanity?

Why I'm laughing so hard?

More Tooth Fairy Trouble

I laughed out loud when I read this over at Mom to the Screaming Masses. I am glad to know that I am not the only one who is a rotten tooth fairy!

It was a particularly timely post for me since this very same I day I made my second--and probably not last--tooth fairy blunder. You may recall Lindsey's sobbing disappointment several months ago when the insensitive fairy did not show to collect her front tooth. You would think I would have learned from this and never forgotten again. Well, I didn't.

Five year old Sam has become the next victim of the fairy's ineptitude, but, luckily for me in this regard, Sam is a very different child than Lindsey. Sam did not cry, in fact, he was not even disappointed. He came into our room the morning after the no-show and matter-of-factly reasoned it out.

Sam figured it was his fault the tooth fairy didn't arrive since he had come into our bed in the middle of the night and did not actually spend the entire night in his bed. Hearing his explanation, I paused for only the briefest moment before agreeing with him. Yep, that must be it: the tooth fairy gets confused when the tooth loser is not in his bed along with his tooth! So, I quickly explained to Sam that he was absolutely right and that she was sure to come if he stayed in his own bed all night (which she did, phew!).

Yes, I am properly shamed by letting my kid take the fall for my forgetfulness, but, hey, I did it for him. You know, to preserve the magic of the fairy. I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with covering my own failure. And I'm sure you believe me.

What A Difference A Year Makes

Today is Jay's birthday.

It was a very good day, if I may be so bold as to speak for Jay in summarizing his own birthday. Jay worked from home, at a job he loves that provides what our family needs. He took his dog for a walk in the desert. He had his favorite prosciutto sandwich for lunch. He went to mass. He interacted with both immediate and extended family throughout the day. The best part of all? This very nice day wasn't much different from most days at this point in our lives.

I could not help but think, as the day progressed, how much better this March 21st was than the last one was. Last year at this time we were worried about a lot of things. Jay was forecasting the need for a major job change and did not find the day to day joy he sought in his work. We were concerned about Joey's school situation, as he was not thriving. We owned an albatross of a house that would not sell. Just one year later, these things have all resolved, our prayers answered for each one.

For me, however, the most striking difference between last year's birthday and today's was the going-out-to-dinner part. Like last year, we left the kids at home so Jay and I could go out for a nice dinner. Also like last year, dinner had to be later than we would have liked because we had to be at church for a meeting or event. Unlike last year, though, tonight we actually made it to the restaurant!

One year ago tonight, as we were on the way to dinner, a car ran a red light and hit us, deploying the air bags and breaking my wrist. We spent the evening of Jay's birthday in the emergency room instead of the restaurant. Tonight, in sharp contrast, we had delicious Argentinian food: tapas, pasta and steak.

Last year I had morphine, x-rays and Anointing of the Sick (no, I wasn't THAT injured...our priest happened to walk by me as I sat in agony on the gurney in the hall, which was nice!). Tonight I had red wine and creme brulee instead. Better? I'd say so!

Happy birthday, honey. It's your day. So, why does it feel as if I got all the presents?!

It Must Be Enchanted

I'm sure of it. This can be the only explanation as to why I am obsessed with Orange Chicken from Panda Express. Because, really, nothing can be that good unless it has been placed under some sort of spell.

You remember, of course, Edmund in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, and his addiction to Turkish Delight. The witch made it so that he could do nothing but want more after he first tried it. Well, I have been similarly afflicted, and I would like to have a word with whoever is in charge of recipes over there at the Panda's corporate headquarters, because this is ridiculous!

This dish is sweet, sour, spicy, crispy, and savory all at the same time...and what ravenously hungry nursing mother can resist this? Clearly not me. I had some for lunch today and am already plotting and planning to figure out when I might next pass one of the FOUR Panda Express locations within five miles of my house precisely at lunch time.

Pathetic? Yes. True? Sadly.

Too Young for A Cold

But I guess this is just my opinion--the bacteria don't share it. They have found fertile ground and they are diving in.

Sure enough, poor 3 week old Isabella is snorting and sneezing, and it is breaking my heart. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the germ-ridden older siblings who grab her little hands with their dirt encrusted paws (even when repeatedly instructed to wash their hands before doing so). But would I have them love her less? Of course not. Their adoration is too precious and all-too-temporary, as I know from experience. As soon as she is mobile she will annoy them, so she'd better soak in this loving while she can!

I am making myself feel better about her plight by focusing on all the great immunities she is building up. But listening to her rasp while attempting to breath through her nose is quite sad. Get better soon, Isabella, so we can both sleep better!

(Not Too) Sweet News, and Other Tidbits

I got the results of my postpartum glucose testing, and the news is delightful. My gestational diabetes resolved itself! My numbers were very good, not at all borderline, so I am thrilled and relieved. Yipee!

I can't believe that once again it has been a full week since I have posted. What have I been doing, you might ask? Not much besides laundry. As much laundry as five children and two adults generate, a newborn noticeably adds to it. I used to spend the breaks between homeschooling lessons answering emails or something similar, but now I just rotate laundry. I looked forward to Saturday all week as the one day I have to just catch up on laundry without having to tend to other obligations (scary, but true). I have strategically placed a crucifix in my laundry room to help remind me to cheerfully offer up this labor. It helps.

I have been enjoying life oh-so-much-more now that I am no longer pregnant. The kids have been making me laugh a lot lately, and I wonder, have they always been this funny or am I just in a much better mood now? I have a sneaking suspicion it is the latter since Joey asked me somewhat suspiciously last week, "Why aren't you grumpy, mom?" when he caught me laughing about something. Hmmm... Anyway, they have been delighting me with their sweet personalities and amusing turns of phrase.

Tony is learning new words every day, but it is not fast enough for him. He is ready to talk and gets so animated trying to communicate with long strings of non-sensical syllables interjected with one or two intelligible words. Our family favorite is when he comes running to one of us, pointing accusatorily behind him, saying something like, "ar buh jogruh DOG ibwa due BAD DOG!" Tony loves to torture the dog by climbing on him and throwing things at him, and Trooper is generally extremely patient with him. In fact, Tony spends a portion of each day "waterskiing" on the tile holding on to Trooper's tail. So, Tony's total outrage when the dog does something back to him--like take a ball from him or eat some food he has dropped--is very funny to us all.

Julia is in a phase where she thinks she speaks like an adult and will say fairly adult things, but messes up the words. It is so hard not to laugh, but we try not to because it hurts her feelings. A few days ago she was walking down the stairs on her heels and asked triumphantly when she reached the bottom, "Impressing, isn't it?" Yesterday she was asking when she would see her godparents again (the Bizzanellis) and she said, "When will we see the Grand Finales?" I love it!

Jay is just back from an Opus Dei retreat where he gave a talk on "Sanctifying Family Life". As you might imagine, he did not have to look far to find material. Plenty of opportunities on an hourly basis around here! Anyway, it is nice to have him back, peaceful and happy. I recommend retreats for everyone, as the dividends pay off for weeks after the fact for the entire family.

Enough aimless rambling for today. I'll try not to let another week go by without a new post, but I'm afraid I can't promise. You know, laundry and all.

Not So PC is OK By Me

Yesterday I went with Joey to his baseball practice. It was an extra Saturday practice where the parents and siblings played a scrimmage game with the boys on the team. Normally, Jay takes Joey to baseball--I don't have much to do with this particular extra curricular activity. But since Jay was busy hauling pea gravel to our play area all weekend, I agreed to take part in this scrimmage game so he could keep on with his work.

I wasn't too worried, even though it had been at least 15 years since I had played any form of baseball. After all, I've seen the Quartz Hill Angels play (I do go to the games) and I felt I could hold my own against this troop of 7 and 8 year olds. I mean, the pitcher barely comes up to my waist, how bad could it be?

In considering this, I forgot two important details. First, I gave birth just over two weeks ago and was pregnant for a long nine months before that. Second, I broke my wrist a year ago and it doesn't move like it used to. At all. Needless to say, the Angel's kicked my sorry rear...and it was REALLY sorry after running the bases only one time (yee haw, I got a hit, but it wasn't worth it!). Not one play was made at 2nd base since I was completely unable to turn my glove around to catch a ball. But the boys weren't interested in my pathetic physical excuses. They just thought I was naturally terrible. And I suppose that's OK.

But none of this was the point of this post anyway. What I really want to comment on is how great I thought his two coaches were yesterday.

When we lived in Northern California I took Joey to baseball more often because Jay traveled so much. I thought his coaches and team there were wonderful too. They were so kind to the boys and supportive, even when they played terribly. It was a good, positive experience for Joey and, although his baseball skills didn't improve tremendously, his confidence was good, which was much more important to me anyway.

We now live in a much less PC area. The crunchy granola undertones of Northern CA have been replaced with a bit more raw reality. For the most part, I like this, and I especially like how it translates into baseball practice. Now, don't get me wrong. These coaches love and support the boys too. They give them lots of praise when they do something well. But they also give them the straight scoop and tell them when they are messing up. There is no sugar coating, no beating around the bush. It is a good old fashioned "What the HELL was that?!" when they miss a ball they should have caught or throw to the wrong base. They follow up with an actionable correction to whatever went wrong instead of ignoring it or saying "it's OK, you're doing fine." And you know what? The boys are really improving! (And they don't seem emotionally scarred yet, either.)

I have been thinking about how this translates into the virtue of humility, which I so want to instill in my children (not to mention myself!). The best definition I have heard of humility is: "the ability to see things as they really are". I consider this often. We are humble if we can see clearly where we need to improve but also where our true strengths are. It is different from false humility, which is downplaying our strengths to appear modest, and it is also different from blindly stumbling through life believing we good enough as we are and we don't have to work too hard to be better since everything is all OK and just fine as it naturally is.

True humility, for a seven or eight year old playing baseball, is understanding that he might not be the best one on the team. That not everyone has equal skills. That he might have to bust his gut playing catch with dad in the backyard if he wants to be as good as the guy playing first base. It also might mean knowing that he actually is the best one on the team and learning how to handle this in a way that is not prideful and doesn't isolate his teammates. Humility is accepting that sometimes there is only one MVP and not everyone earns a trophy.

This is real life. Sometimes it's harsh. Sometimes we're not good at something we really want to be good at. Sometimes things don't turn out as we want them to. We naturally want to protect our children from this reality as long as we can, but if we protect them too long, do we risk the development of their character?

I, for one, am glad to see a little humility getting doled out on the baseball diamond...because he already has his mother to tell him that he's wonderful, pretty much no matter what he does.

Tony the Trash Man

One of our favorite things to do during Lent is attend the Knights of Columbus Friday Fish Frys. We eat really good fish, feed the whole family for very little, and see lots of our favorite people. The kids run around with kids they know from school or church, and Jay and I get lots of time to talk with other adults. What's not to like?!

Normally, some of the Knights walk the aisles of the crowded hall with rolling trash cans to collect garbage. This week, members of the first grade class at Sacred Heart School took over this duty with relish. They pushed and pulled and gleefully collected trash without tiring. The Knights thought this was great and so did the kids.

Tony, when he was done investigating the desert table and attempting nearly successfully to swipe it clean of its brownies, decided he needed to get in on this trash action. He loves to push things around the house (bar stools, benches, the laundry basket), so this was right up his alley. Before anyone could stop him, he had commandeered a trash can and was enthusiastically pushing it back and forth down the main aisle.

Naturally, Tony is too short to see over the trash can, so there was quite a bit of careening into tables and passersby. I had to follow him closely and gently direct the trash can without letting him know I was touching it. If he saw me even touch it, he erupted in howls of protest.

Some, who couldn't see Tony on the other side, found it alarming--and then amusing--to see a seemingly unattended trash can moving on its own.

Cute, right? For the first 15 minutes, yes. For the next hour and a half? Not so much. But he would not be deterred. And, luckily, most of the attendees thought it was very cute, even when the charm had faded for me.

Yesterday Jay and I were at Lowe's with Tony and Isabella, and we heard someone call across the paint aisle, "It's the trash man!" Tony beamed. I cringed, because I already know what next Friday will bring, and it's not me sitting down eating my fish while it's still hot.

Didn't Think This One Through

Trooper has been chewing our dining room chair. In an effort to stop this, I cleverly asked Jay to spread some Tabasco on the area, thinking that his next chew would be his last. Great plan, right?

Turns out, Tabasco sauce doesn't really bother a Mastiff. But it does make him drool. A lot. For a long time, out of both sides of his mouth.

So, now I have a chewed dining room chair, a soggy carpet and a disgusting animal on the loose.

Well, it seemed like a good idea. Live and learn.

Homeschool Poetry

I had to share the result of Joey's recent poetry unit:

My baby brother Tony

His nickname is bologna

My sister is Isabella

We call her mortadella

My other brother Sam

His nickame is ham

Our family like to eat

Lots of deli meat

Enough said.

Back to Normal

It's amazing, when you have six kids (or 5 or 4 or 8) how quickly life returns to normal after the birth of a baby. After my first baby, and even my second, things remained out of whack for what seemed like months. But, here I am with a one-week old baby and life is just like it was before...except with a wonderful new addition, of course. Oh, and I'm not pregnant anymore, which is really something to celebrate!

Back to laundry, making lunches, changing diapers, grocery shopping, homework and home school lessons. Back to paying bills, taxi service, gymnastics and baseball practice. Back to life. And you know what? I couldn't be happier.

This is the life I choose. The life I love. The life I treasure and protect. Living a boring, repetitive life, serving my family, praying for the best, and being truly grateful for all the blessings in my life. It's nice to be back.