Happiness Is...

...having two kids on one baseball team. How I love efficiencies!

The kids are doing quite well with baseball, especially since it is the first year playing for both of them. Lindsey, in particular, has a knack for it. During Saturday's game, the coach for the opposing team approached me and asked if I would consider allowing her to play on his team in the farm division (right now she is in coach pitch).

You know what I said, right? NO WAY! I've got two kids on one team, which means practice and games in common. That is worth more than gold in my world. Sorry, Lindsey. Maybe next year.

Effective, But Not What I Had In Mind

Today while I was chauffeuring the kids around, it occurred to me that my driving skills have declined in recent years. I am more distracted than I used to be...by children, the phone, the ipod, school papers, sports equipment and many other things. I never seem to just be driving and paying attention to the road anymore without something else competing for my attention.

As I was reflecting on this, I shot up one of my dozens-a-day quick prayers: Please, God, help me to be a better driver so I can keep my family safe.

I forgot about this request shortly thereafter, but apparently God did not.

As I pulled out of Julia's dance class today, performing my trademark "put the seat belt on when I reach the first stoplight" maneuver, I was pulled over by the sheriff. I received my first traffic citation in many, many years, for a seat belt violation. She reminded me sternly that that car should not even be in gear until my seat belt is solidly in place.

OK, God, I got it. Thanks for listening and for caring enough to send a correction my way.

This Congress Gets It Done

I've just returned from a three day visit to the Religious Education Congress in Anaheim, and all I can say is WOW!

My dear friend (and frequent tell-it-like-it-is commentor on this blog) has been trying to get me to go to this event for years, but I have always been in some inconvenient stage of childbearing that prohibited my attendance. This year, however, the stars aligned. Jay, grandmas and friends stepped up to take over management of house and children, and I sailed out of town for three days of education and reflection. How amazingly wonderful it was!

I got to attend 8, yes 8, 90 minute workshops on topics that I selected (there were 26 to choose from for EACH session). I focused my track mainly on raising and educating godly children, but the topics were broad enough to cover things like the new need for clustering parishes, the church's role in immigration and all sorts of other things.

I got to go to mass every day, and what masses they were! Imagine the entire Anaheim Area packed to the rafters with faithful Catholics, all receiving the Eucharist together. Combined with gives-you-goosebumps music, a three-language liturgy, and one particularly charismatic homilist (who shamelessly promoted his own bobble-head...really, you had to be there), the experience was moving beyond description.

I got to shop and visit exhibitor booths featuring everything from the new St. John's Bible (beautiful, awe-inspiring) to Dead Sea foot scrub (less so).

I got to sleep all night. For three nights in a row. Need I say more?

Thank you, thank you, thank you to my amazing husband and the heroic grandmothers who made this possible. I return refreshed, inspired and ready to resume my joyful duties and mother and wife.

Whoa, Nelly!

To the best of my knowledge, 9 year old boys are supposed to be interested in Legos, bike riding, knives and fire. Joey fits into this category perfectly, showing a healthy interest in all of these things.

9 year old boys are NOT supposed to be interested in girls, nor girls in them. No way, no how. That simply must be quite a few years down the road. I am so convinced of this basic truth that I have not spent even one minute thinking about what unique parenting challenges a development in this area might bring.

(It is at this point in my rant that I am going to choose to ignore that fact that girls and boys were quite interested in each other in my own fourth grade class way back when.)

As sure as I am that I have my facts straight, I nonetheless have begun to notice that Joey is, in fact, interested in girls and they, in fact, are interested in him.

A few days ago, a girl called Joey and they talked for, I kid you not, two hours and twenty minutes. ABOUT WHAT?! I have no idea. I was so flabbergasted by the entire episode that I couldn't even decide whether I should allow this. All I know is that he was positively beaming as he carried the phone around the house, trying to escape the curious ears of his siblings and the panicked, deer-in-headlights gaze of his mother.

About a week before this, tweenage girls at Julia's gymnastics class were actually tossing their hair and giggling at him as he waited for his sister. He now wants to come with me to every one of her classes.

What the heck is going on here? Has the world begun to spin backwards?

My emotions about this are mixed. One one hand, I am happy to see the obvious confidence and pleasure that this is giving him. One the other hand, I am fighting the urge to stuff him in a closet and not allow him to see the light of day for the next ten years.

Obviously, there will be no girlfriends and no dating allowed for many, many, MANY years. But what about all the stuff in between? Can he talk to them on the phone when they call? Can he sit with them at church functions? Can he suddenly become my most consistent tag-along at his sisters' activities?

Jay and I have some quick thinking to do here. Yikes!

Happy Birthday, Isabella

One year ago today we met you for the first time, but it seems as if we've known you forever. You came into our family as if there had never been a time when you weren't here. The joy you bring to us all is immeasurable!

* * *

We celebrated Isabella's birthday at the Knights of Columbus Fish Fry, the place where you can find us every Friday during Lent. Isabella is the first of our children to be born in our not-so-new-anymore community, so it seemed only fitting to celebrate her in the midst of it. I'm very glad we did!

This is only the second time I've had a child reach his or her first birthday without already knowing another baby was on the way. Perhaps for this reason, I am feeling the loss of her babyhood very acutely. The year seems to have flown by and already I cannot remember how she was when she was tiny. This is compounded by her impending weaning--I am going away for three nights this upcoming weekend, which will bring a natural close to her nursing. It is the great irony of a mother's life that we get through the most difficult days of babyhood by reassuring ourselves that it will someday end. Yet, when it does indeed end we long to turn back the clock. How important it is to live in the moment with our young children, because there aren't nearly enough of those moments to last a lifetime.

* * *

Happy 1st birthday, my baby-no-more. I am so very glad you are here! Though I may be sad to see my baby disappear, I am more than compensated by the delight of knowing the toddler that has taken her place.

These Pirates Really Don't Do Anything

Lindsey and I went to see the newest Veggie Tales movie tonight called The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. I hadn't heard much, if anything, about this movie, but I am well familiar with the Veggie Tales franchise and knew pretty much what to expect.

The movie was cute, as most Veggie Tales material is, and it had a nice message about finding your inner hero. However, to my surprise, God was not mentioned at all in the movie. Rather, there was a king figure that said he was always with them, showing them the way. I suppose he was symbolic of God, but if this representation was a stretch for me, I am certain that not one kid figured it out.

Now, I am not one who dislikes secular media as a general rule and I certainly don't feel that every movie has to have an overt Christian message. But I expected it from Veggie Tales and was disappointed to find it missing. Has Veggie Tales sold out in an effort to be more broadly appealing? I sure hope not.

Is it just me, or did anyone else notice this omission?

Smoothing the Edges

As a mother of many, I feel as if I must constantly prove that I can "handle it". The last thing in the world I want is for someone to look at me and think it is irresponsible of me to have so many kids because I am doing such a poor job of caring for them.

As far as character flaws go, this might be my worst (though by no means not my only) one. Of course, God knows this. Therefore, in what I'm sure is a loving attempt to rid me of this flaw, He often sends me opportunities to work on my pride. And, boy, did He send me a doozy today.

Julia started a new gymnastics school this afternoon. Although I loved her old one and felt very comfortable and welcome there, she had become bored with her class, which moved more slowly than she would have liked. Therefore, I brought her to a new, reputedly more fast paced, gym where she could be more challenged and go more times per week.

Knowing that this was a more "serious" gym, I prepped the kids before our first visit. I wasn't sure what it would be like and I didn't want to show up like the Beverly Hillbillies. So, I made sure everyone knew what was expected, I wiped off faces, found clean clothes and gave out a general list of acceptable behaviors.

At the gym, all went fairly well. Aside from Tony falling off the low bleacher in the first 5 minutes and ending up with a lump the size of Omaha on the back of his head, we blended in pretty well. The owner was very welcoming and I felt immediately comfortable. This was not to last long, however.

At the end of class, I gave Julia her shoes, gathered up Tony and Isabella, counted heads and went out the door to the car. I loaded the kids, paused to search for someone's missing shoes, changed someone, and altogether spent somewhere around 10 minutes getting settled. Just as I sat down and buckled myself in, I saw the owner coming toward the car with a sobbing Julia. She explained that Julia had been left inside, didn't know where I was, and had been sitting on her lap crying for the 10 minutes I had been settling in the car.

Unbelievably, I had not even noticed that Julia was not with us.

In my defense (if there is any defense at all for this), I had not left the parking lot, and I am sure that I would have noticed she were missing before I drove off. I always take a mental inventory of the children when I leave somewhere, and I'm sure I would have done so this time as well. But I never got the chance because she found me first.

The owner, previously so friendly and welcoming, was cold now. I felt not only terrible for Julia, whom I had frightened, but, selfishly, for myself as well. This lady, who had only just met me, was judging my parenting ability and I came up way, way short. Here I was, hoping to make a good impression and establish a long, solid relationship with a new gym. Instead, I left the owner incredulous that someone could actually be such a horrible parent. How totally humiliating.

I am dreading the next class. Should I explain myself? Hide behind oversized sunglasses? Go in with my head held high? Retreat to our old gym with my tail between my legs?

Whatever I decide to do, my pride has certainly been beaten back a bit. A few dozen more episodes like this one and perhaps I will be cured of my terrible affliction. And, hopefully, I won't actually lose one of the children in process.

Inexperienced Fairies Please Fly By

When the tooth fairy arrived at Sam's bed tonight, this is what she saw:


Tony had climbed into bed with Sam and wedged him completely off his pillow. Now it was Tony's head on top of the tooth Sam had left...and the fairy had to pass underneath both heads to get the right location.

Tricky stuff, to be sure.

Luckily, the fairy at our house has had some experience and deftly flew in, took care of business, and even snapped a photo on the way out. Good thing she has an inflated view of her own skills, because this could have gone terribly, terribly wrong. If she had thought it through, she might not have attempted this level of difficulty.

Definitely not a job for the fainthearted fairy.

11 Months Old Already

I had to post this photo, as this is the perspective from which I most often see Isabella. That is my leg she is clinging to, and this is where she most often is. Holding my pant leg while I load the dishwasher, rotate the laundry, brush my teeth, fix dinner, whatever I happen to be doing.

My little cling-on. My constant companion.

How I will miss her when she is no longer at my feet. For it won't be long now until she is off and running, no longer content to stick by my side.

Things I Learned While Skiing for the First Time in 10 Years

1. Hardly anyone skis anymore--snowboarders have taken over the mountain. The skiers that do still exist are nearly all over the age of 35. Like me.

2. Ski boots that fit me 10 years ago don't fit after six pregnancies. It isn't just my waistline that has changed!

3. The good news is that the 15 year-old stretchy ski pants that once made me look like a ski-bunny hottie still fit. The bad news is that they are no longer in style and I was the only one on the mountain wearing them. Oh, and I am no longer a hottie of any kind. What a bummer.

4. Skis don't look like they used to. The skis I own are long and pointy. New skis are shorter with bubble-like ends. Luckily, since the ski boots didn't fit I went ahead and rented everything including skis, so I did not date myself with my personal skis...just with my pants.

5. The proportion of time I wish to spend warming myself by the lodge fire during a ski day has increased along with my age.

6. I have quadricep muscles that, apparently, I haven't used in quite some time. They have officially registered a protest.

7. Ski school for kids is a really, really good idea. Check them in, completely inexperienced at 10am and pick them up at 3pm, all ready to ride the lift with you!

8. If the zipper on your child's parka decides to break on a ski day, it is far better for it to do so before you are up on top of the mountain, when you are still in the vicinity of a large chain store with bargain prices.

9. It is more fun to ski when it is not actually snowing, although it does make the ride nice and powdery.

10. Skiing is like riding a bicycle--after a run or two, it feels like no time whatsoever has passed.

11. I'm really glad we live only 45 minutes from the Mountain High ski area.

12. Our family, finances and babysitting permitting, will be returning to the slopes again soon!

Happy Birthday, Lindsey!

How can you be 8 years old already? Yet, here you are, on the occasion of your 8th birthday, so beautiful and grown up. How proud I am of the person you are becoming and, indeed, already are.

Lindsey had a mystery theatre party that was a lot of fun. Each of the 16 participants had a part to play, and together they solved a haunted house crime and figured out which one of them was the culprit. The mostly second grade girls did a great job of reading their lines and acting out their parts, making for a totally unique and memorable party. Lindsey is shown above in front of the "Eerie Cove Police Department" sign, dressed for her part as Lola Lavish, the richest woman in the world...or IS she?! Hmmm.

Happy 8th birthday, Lindsey. You are loved, totally and completely.

It's a Chicken-Egg Thing

I'm not sure, really, which came first--the incredibly painful knot in my neck or the realization that my refrigerator, after limping along for some time, finally died a total and complete death.

I first realized that the refrigerator was on its way down last night just before bed, because the ice I grabbed for my last glass of water was wet and soft. Having been through sporadic thaws and even heat-ups with this only-two-year-old refrigerator several times before, I snapped into action and frantically shuttled my perishables to the garage fridge. Don't EVER buy a GE fridge, folks, because our last one did this too, at only 18 months old! (The one in the garage, for the record, is a reliable 12 year old Kenmore). It is a good thing I did this because by this morning, the otter pops I left in the freezer were liquid and warm and the control panel was flashing in a mocking manner.

So, you see, it is possible that the neck knot developed overnight due to the tension I felt simply knowing what was coming.

On the other hand, it is possible that the refrigerator, evil incarnate as far as I'm concerned, knew deep in its wiring that today I would have this terrible neck knot and so, therefore, it was the best day possible to cease working.

I suppose we will never know the truth. But what I do know is this: I spent today alternately popping largely ineffective ibuprofen tablets and going from store to store trying to find the largest refrigerator I could find to fit in my kitchen...at the best possible deal, of course.

Did I mention Jay was out of town? He often is when I have refrigerator crises. Lucky man.

At any rate, our new 26 cubic foot Samsung fridge will be delivered tomorrow and, no matter how much your neck hurts or how tired you are, that is something to get excited about. I love new appliances!

So, although I wouldn't have chosen to make a purchase like this right now, I am determined to enjoy the fruits of it. I plan to kick the old GE fridge hard enough to leave a dent on its way out, and just the thought of this small act of revenge is sure to give me pleasure for weeks to come.

That is, of course, if the stiff neck allows for this level of activity. But, you know? Somehow I think it will better tomorrow.

A Win-Win-Win

If you happen to have a fourth grade homeschooling boy who is often, shall we say, reluctant to complete his work in a cheerful manner, then boy do I have a plan for you!

Step 1: Find an adorable 8th grade girl who lives on your street (make sure your boy has at least a small crush on her) who wants to be homeschooled too, but can't because her parents both work.

Step 2: Allow her to convince you that supervising her homeschooling during the day would be a good idea.

Step 3: Make the arrangement with her parents to have her over each day from 9-2. Check to be sure she is doing her work, answer any questions she has, offer a tip or two when prudent, but let her parents chart her progress, grade her work and give her the day's assignments.

Step 4: Receive abundant free babysitting as compensation for your time, and be extra pleased that she delights in playing with the little kids in between her lessons (quick, mom, rotate the laundry while she's playing with the baby!)

Step 5: Stand back and watch your fourth grader fall all over himself to try to impress her by doing the very best work you've ever seen from him. Watch him complete his work early in the day so he can be sure to spend his PE time riding bikes with her after their lessons are complete.

It's great for me. It's a great for her. It's great for Joey. A win-win-win if I ever saw one!

A Blissful, Blustery Day

My idea of a great day:

A rare and welcome rainstorm in the desert.
Good friends visiting for the weekend.
The fire burning and candles lit all day long.
A soak in the hot tub while the rain falls gently on our heads.
Walking the dog in the desert, the usual dust subdued by the moisture.
Homemade bread and potpie aromas filling my home.
My husband working on this and that around the house.
My children milling around me.
A good chick flick before bed.

Color me happy.

10 Months Old Already

This photo portrays a happy moment from a girl who, although normally quite content, hasn't had much to smile about lately. Isabella has an ear infection that 3 back-to-back rounds of antibiotics can't get rid of and, frankly, she's had enough.

She was stoic enough in the beginning. In fact, I was not even aware that she had an ear infection when she was first diagnosed with it in late November during a well baby visit. In the last few days, however, she has been fussy, off-and-on feverish, and hard pressed to sleep for more than an hour at a time during the night. She tugs at her ear and screams if anyone touches it. Poor girl.

We saw the doctor again today and he has prescribed a 4th round of antibiotics to try to kill this thing. If these do not work she will have to see a specialist who will more than likely put her through some terribly unpleasant things in an effort to cure her.

So, please send up some prayers for my sweet girl...and her sleep deprived mother!

Hits and Misses

Like all the rest of us, Santa wins some and he loses some.

Take, for example, the simple game of Uno that he left in Sam's stocking. This is a winner, pure and simple. We all enjoyed playing it together tonight and are left looking forward to the next go-round.

In sharp contrast, we have the Baby Alive that he brought for Julia. I don't know what he was thinking. This baby is constantly hungry, eats disgusting glop and then actually poops it out into her diaper. She went through her entire supply in the first 6 hours Julia had her. Does Santa not know that we have two real babies here that do this? This is not an area in which we needed a simulation.

Again in the "hit" category is the giant bed he brought for Trooper. Trooper loves it and no longer leaves fur balls on my family room rug. The dog is happy, I am happy. The kids are happy because Santa remembered the dog. This is all good.

On the other hand, we have the take along castle he brought for Sam. The box boasted that it had a gazillion pieces, as if that was a plus. These pieces are now spread throughout my house with no hope of ever being reunited with one another in their entirety. Sigh.

Ah, well, we can't blame Santa. He's only human. (Or IS he? Hmmm...)

A Belated Merry Christmas!

Between preparations and recovery, I did not get this posted when I intended to, but the sentiment remains the same: Merry Christmas to all of my friends in the blogosphere!

I hope your Christmas was as lovely as ours has been and continues to be.

Quote of the Day

Julia, in a fit of four year-old defiance:

"I am going to do what I want and nothing is going to stop me!"

(Pause.)

"Except a spanking."

True Humility

As a mother of six young children, I am never lacking opportunities to practice the virtue of humility; my children humble me constantly. Yet, there is nothing quite as humiliating for me as a trip to the carwash.

I always go to the same carwash because it is cheap, fast and fairly friendly. I can't tell if the quality is great because, given what I start with, there is only so much they can do. Nevertheless, it works for me, so there I go.

I am quite certain that they know me and my van by now. I am sure they must pray, every time they see me drive by, "Please, God, don't let THAT turn into our driveway today!" When I do turn in, I am guessing that the workers are busy calling in favors, changing their workstations around and working whatever deal they can, just so long as they don't end up being the poor sap stuck on vacuum duty for my vehicle. Perhaps they use me as a hazing ritual for new employees.

And, really, I can't blame them if they do. By the time I carve out the time to go to the carwash, I can assure you that my van is disgusting. The amount of crumbs on the floor could feed a small country. The trash could cave in a landfill. And did I mention that the cats pee in my car whenever a child leaves the door open? I might actually quit the carwash job rather than vacuum my own car. It is that bad.

Do you want to know the scariest part? Before I even get to the carwash, you can be sure I have invested nearly an hour cleaning the jackets, shoes, socks, wrappers, crafts, school notices, books, toys and cups out of the three rows. Worst of all, I do this fairly regularly.

So far, I've only mentioned the inside. Want to know what the rest of the car looks like? Outside, the kids have written their names and "Wash Me" in the dust on three sides, top and bottom. The car-length scratches from somebody's toy car stand out, even beneath all the dust, like a garland of silver tinsel on a Christmas tree. To top it all off I am missing a hubcap, as if I needed any more help looking like I should be playing a banjo on my front porch.

YUCK!

Some days I wonder, what is wrong with me that I let this get so bad? Why don't I discipline the children more about what they leave in the car and what they bring in the house? Why do I let them eat in the car, play cards in the car, take their shoes off in the car?! But I know the answer...I do what I can, where I can, and I fight the most important battles. If I tried to fight them all, there would be no peace in my family. For me, the car is one of the areas I am not willing to fight, because by the time we get home from wherever we have been, I am generally exhausted and the kids can't wait to get out of the car. This is not a good combination for the state of our car, but often it's great for my sanity to see them dash away into the house, especially after a long time in the car together. So what's a mom to do? Be humbled by the car washers for now, I guess.

I must thank my dear friend who sent me this link a few days ago, to let me know that my situation is not all that unusual. I laughed so hard I actually cried. It made today's car wash visit, well, a little less humiliating.

The Story of Christmas

She gave birth to her firstborn son...


...and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no place for them in the inn.

Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth.

But a sword will pierce your own soul too.

Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.

What a beautiful narration of the Christmas miracle, as presented by the 72 three and four year olds at Mission Bell Preschool. Are you thinking I cried as I watched? You bet I did.