In a convenient, pint-sized package.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
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!
Monday, April 23, 2007
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:
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!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Retreat Time
I'm off on retreat. Look for a new, refreshed version of myself when I return on Monday. Have a great weekend!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
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?
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?
Sunday, April 15, 2007
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!
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!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
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!
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!
Monday, April 09, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, March 30, 2007
The Karate Kid
Tonight's family movie: The Karate Kid.
In honor of my own karate kid:
Sam fell asleep 10 minutes in and missed the whole thing. Maybe next time.
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.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
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!
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!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
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.
Monday, March 26, 2007
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?
Saturday, March 24, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
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 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?!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, March 19, 2007
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!
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!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
(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.
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.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
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.
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:
Enough said.
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.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Isabella Ruth
We are blessed indeed to welcome
Isabella Ruth Di Silvestri
February 22, 2007, 3:21pm
7lbs 13oz, 20"
So many of you have been praying for her healthy arrival, and we thank you very much! We needed these prayers to get us through a long and sometimes scary pregnancy and labor. We are richly blessed in family and friends, and I have never been more aware and grateful for this than now.
Isabella (we will likely call her Izzie--my maiden name is Izzi--but have also been calling her Bella and Isabella, so who knows how it will ultimately shake out) was not ready to come when the doctors were ready to have her. Two days of attempted induction via multiple treatments of Cervadil and Pitocin netted no change whatsoever (except some painful yet completely unproductive contractions). Just a few hours before the c-section deadline, and long after all medicine had been abandoned and I had been officially removed from the "laboring" board, my body decided to begin contracting for real and it went really fast from there, thank goodness, just a few hours.
This experience was such a shock to us, as we had become used to 4-6 hour labors with our last several babies and expected more of the same. The team of grandparents who, with little warning, had to abandon their own lives and take on four days of managing our household, puppy and all, are nothing short of heroic. To add to it all, three of our kids became sick and required trips to the urgent care in our absence. Two kids ended up on antibiotics and only one regularly went to school, so they really had their hands full! We are so, so blessed to have all of the grandparents, near and far. We really feel your love and support, each one of you.
A few more photos, just for fun...
Isabella's first look at the world:
Mom, delighted to be leaving (and feeling deceptively thin, too!):
Dad, the closest he will ever come to experiencing pregnancy himself:
Thank you again for your prayers, check in calls, meals and emotional support. But most of all, thank you, God, for the blessing that is this child. There is no greater gift.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Healthy Baby Girl
Our little girl was born about 20 minutes ago. Both she and Mom are healthy and doing well. 7 pounds 13 ounces. More details to follow.
UPDATE: Baby and mom are doing great, the baby has latched on to Suz and they are bonding. Thank you for all your prayers.
Still no baby
Another guest post from Jay. Suz hit a low point this morning. The bed is uncomfortable, and we have just been here too long. Mercifully, just after that, a great nurse came in and perked up everyones spirits. Suz is now contracting regularly, and and I'm hoping we are on final approach. If not, it is likely that they will c-section her this afternoon, but we would like to avoid that as it will throw off her ironman training regimen ;-). Please keep Suz and the baby in your prayers, and I will keep you posted.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Guest Post
This post is brought to you by Suzanne's husband Jay. Suz is in no state to blog and I keep telling her that she needs to update all the people who are waiting for news. So, here's the deal. It is 3:36 right now and we have been in the delivery room for 27 hours. After some false starts, it looks like she is going to achieve liftoff in the next few hours. The contractions are just a few minutes apart, and the baby seems healthy. A special thank you to the baby's grandparents. Marilyn and Ruth have been running our home and shuttling the kids to school, gymnastics and the doctor. My Mom has Joe and our dog, and my dad and Carmen have been calling/praying non stop.
Here is a picture of Suz taken completely against her will. We'll keep you posted as events progress.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Waiting for Godot
Waiting for a baby to arrive is a bit like waiting for Godot.
Did you ever read that bizarre play in high school or college? Two guys are waiting for this mysterious person to arrive, but he never does. Yet, for an inexplicable reason, they can't stop waiting. They pass their time by complaining and arguing, all the while coping with aches and pains and generally uncomfortable conditions. There are rumors as to what Godot will be like, but we don't really know for sure. At the end of the day a messenger arrives to let them know that Godot won't be coming today, but surely will tomorrow. We have no confidence that this is true or that he will ever arrive.
I suppose that this final waiting game is nature's way of preparing us for the rigours of labor. By the time the day finally arrives, we would willingly go through any experience just to end the wait! Too big and uncomfortable to do much of anything, too close to delivery to make any plans, we full-termers putter around the house, do a few things that require minimal commitment and, well, wait for this person who may or may not come anytime soon. This person we don't even know. This person who could be dark or light, cranky or mellow, big or little, boy or girl.
One way or another, my wait will be over in two days. I will be induced on Tuesday if the baby doesn't come today or tomorrow, but of course I hope it comes on its own.
In the meantime, I am thinking that "Godot Di Silvestri" has a nice ring.
Did you ever read that bizarre play in high school or college? Two guys are waiting for this mysterious person to arrive, but he never does. Yet, for an inexplicable reason, they can't stop waiting. They pass their time by complaining and arguing, all the while coping with aches and pains and generally uncomfortable conditions. There are rumors as to what Godot will be like, but we don't really know for sure. At the end of the day a messenger arrives to let them know that Godot won't be coming today, but surely will tomorrow. We have no confidence that this is true or that he will ever arrive.
I suppose that this final waiting game is nature's way of preparing us for the rigours of labor. By the time the day finally arrives, we would willingly go through any experience just to end the wait! Too big and uncomfortable to do much of anything, too close to delivery to make any plans, we full-termers putter around the house, do a few things that require minimal commitment and, well, wait for this person who may or may not come anytime soon. This person we don't even know. This person who could be dark or light, cranky or mellow, big or little, boy or girl.
One way or another, my wait will be over in two days. I will be induced on Tuesday if the baby doesn't come today or tomorrow, but of course I hope it comes on its own.
In the meantime, I am thinking that "Godot Di Silvestri" has a nice ring.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Hands Off
In an effort to control toy hoarding and materialism in our family, I long ago instituted a 3-item "no-touching list." This means that each child, at any given time, can have 3 items--and only 3 items--that are so special to them that no other member of the family may use or touch them. Everything not on these lists, although they may officially "belong" to one child or another, is part of the general use collection of the playroom.
This has generally worked very well. New things make their way on the list, rotating older things off. The kids openly communicate with one another about what is most important to them and it keeps them from the rut of "everything is mine and you can't touch it." Periodically, they share their lists with one another and I have been surprised at the familiarity over time that each one has with the others' ever-changing lists.
Yesterday, as we were driving, Sam was poking and generally bothering Julia (age 3) in the back seat. She ended it all quite efficiently by stating, "Stop it, Sam. I'm on my no-touching list."
Works for me.
This has generally worked very well. New things make their way on the list, rotating older things off. The kids openly communicate with one another about what is most important to them and it keeps them from the rut of "everything is mine and you can't touch it." Periodically, they share their lists with one another and I have been surprised at the familiarity over time that each one has with the others' ever-changing lists.
Yesterday, as we were driving, Sam was poking and generally bothering Julia (age 3) in the back seat. She ended it all quite efficiently by stating, "Stop it, Sam. I'm on my no-touching list."
Works for me.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Yes, Moms and Dads are Different
As if I needed another reminder of this fact, I received one when I picked up the kids from school yesterday.
Jay uses my car to drop the kids off in the morning. I love that he takes them to school almost every day, as Joey and I can get right to our homeschooling day. As a bonus, he takes Tony the toddler and Trooper the puppy along for the ride so I can have about 45 minutes of peace to get the day started right.
When I get in my car to pick up the kids in the afternoon, I always turn on Dr. Laura. I enjoy listening to her for the 20 minutes it takes me to get to the school. Then, once the kids are in the car, we usually talk for awhile and then I put on a CD, Disney favorites or something like that.
The kids were bickering so much on the way home yesterday, that I decided to drown them out and end it all by turning up the music really loud. I flipped to CD mode and turned to song 2, as I knew the Disney CD was in from our last drive and that they all like that song.
Instead of the "Mulan" song I expected, Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" came blaring out of the speakers. I didn't even know we had that CD. But, to my surprise, the kids did. Sam shouted, over the chorus of general approval, "Turn it up, I LOVE this song!". He is 5.
I said, "How do you even KNOW this song?" and he informed me that daddy plays it real loud, as he bounces them over the dirt road shortcut on the way to school in the morning. Apparently, car time with daddy is a little different than car time with mom.
Other selections include The Who, The Clash, The Ramones, and Johnny Cash, among others.
I'm half horrified and half proud. Some of this, after all, is really good music and I support the kids having exposure to many types of culture (with definite limits, of course). But the lyrics? Hmm. Jay assures me he selects the songs carefully according to their content. OK, then.
So, I'm really not complaining. I'm just saying...we're different.
Jay uses my car to drop the kids off in the morning. I love that he takes them to school almost every day, as Joey and I can get right to our homeschooling day. As a bonus, he takes Tony the toddler and Trooper the puppy along for the ride so I can have about 45 minutes of peace to get the day started right.
When I get in my car to pick up the kids in the afternoon, I always turn on Dr. Laura. I enjoy listening to her for the 20 minutes it takes me to get to the school. Then, once the kids are in the car, we usually talk for awhile and then I put on a CD, Disney favorites or something like that.
The kids were bickering so much on the way home yesterday, that I decided to drown them out and end it all by turning up the music really loud. I flipped to CD mode and turned to song 2, as I knew the Disney CD was in from our last drive and that they all like that song.
Instead of the "Mulan" song I expected, Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" came blaring out of the speakers. I didn't even know we had that CD. But, to my surprise, the kids did. Sam shouted, over the chorus of general approval, "Turn it up, I LOVE this song!". He is 5.
I said, "How do you even KNOW this song?" and he informed me that daddy plays it real loud, as he bounces them over the dirt road shortcut on the way to school in the morning. Apparently, car time with daddy is a little different than car time with mom.
Other selections include The Who, The Clash, The Ramones, and Johnny Cash, among others.
I'm half horrified and half proud. Some of this, after all, is really good music and I support the kids having exposure to many types of culture (with definite limits, of course). But the lyrics? Hmm. Jay assures me he selects the songs carefully according to their content. OK, then.
So, I'm really not complaining. I'm just saying...we're different.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Message for Dog Heaven
In my recent nesting frenzy, I cleaned out the top shelf of the girls' closet yesterday and found a box that Lindsey had decorated and cut out. The message I saw on the bottom, likely written six months or so ago (when she was 6 1/2), brought me to tears:
For those who aren't as fluent as I in the phonetic stylings of Kindergartners and First Graders, this reads: I miss you, Pumbaa. I love you. If I could see you one more time. If you can come back. I love you.
Pumbaa was our Mastiff that died last Christmas, and she wrote this long before Trooper, the new Mastiff puppy, came on the scene. If I hadn't already been talked into getting a puppy against my will, this is all it would have taken. I am so outnumbered in this regard.
I forget how much goes on inside our kids that we don't even know about. I wrongly assume that if I am not hearing about it, it is not happening. Young children have rich emotional lives and are dealing with things we don't credit them for. What a good reminder this is for me.
I love what Jay told Lindsey about dogs and heaven when Pumbaa died. Naturally, she wanted to know if she would see Pumbaa in heaven. Not wanting to explain the uniqueness of human souls, Jay answered, "If you need Pumbaa to be in heaven in order for you to be perfectly happy, he will be there. Because you will be perfectly happy in heaven." She was content with this, sure in her heart that he, then, would be there. Yet, Jay's answer allows that her understanding of perfect happiness may change over time.
And perhaps Pumbaa will be there, as God's special gift to us. That would be nice.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Nesting
It is a wonderful thing, the urge that women get in those last few weeks to prepare for the baby. Just when I was sure it was not going to come this time, that I was too tired and big to do anything, I was suddenly struck with the urgent need to get things clean and ready and RIGHT THIS SECOND!
So, this post serves as my official (and only) break from a flurry of preparation activity. So far just this morning, the girls' furniture got rearranged, clothing drawers were re appropriated, newborn baby clothes were located and stowed, and tiny diapers and wipes were put in their place. Next, the infant car carrier will be taken down and cleaned, and the hospital bag will be packed. I don't have this much energy when I'm NOT pregnant, so I know this is the real deal.
The family is taking all of this well, though I think the kids are a little wary of this determined person who is unexpectedly up, running and barking orders. Jay, by experience, knows it is pointless to get in the way of this unstoppable train and has graciously made himself available for lifting and carrying, and, even as I write, is at the hardware store getting a few things for projects that simply could not wait another minute in my opinion. Example: the girls have been without an overhead light in their room for nearly a year now and for some inexplicable reason I cannot allow tomorrow to dawn without one being in place. Enough of unfinished projects! Enough of unfiled clutter! Enough, I say!
This preparation is not just limited to the physical, but also the financial. I simply must have Jay's outstanding expense reports completed, all bills paid in advance, and as much of our taxes done as possible. Why? I don't know, I just do. I need to have everything in order, and yesterday. How about the kids' valentines? Birthday gifts for next month's birthdays? Look out, because they are getting done now!
If I could bottle this hormone, whatever it is, and save it for non-pregnant times, I would be on top of the world. An eighth of this energy and determination would keep my house humming all year long.
Why isn't someone researching this?
So, this post serves as my official (and only) break from a flurry of preparation activity. So far just this morning, the girls' furniture got rearranged, clothing drawers were re appropriated, newborn baby clothes were located and stowed, and tiny diapers and wipes were put in their place. Next, the infant car carrier will be taken down and cleaned, and the hospital bag will be packed. I don't have this much energy when I'm NOT pregnant, so I know this is the real deal.
The family is taking all of this well, though I think the kids are a little wary of this determined person who is unexpectedly up, running and barking orders. Jay, by experience, knows it is pointless to get in the way of this unstoppable train and has graciously made himself available for lifting and carrying, and, even as I write, is at the hardware store getting a few things for projects that simply could not wait another minute in my opinion. Example: the girls have been without an overhead light in their room for nearly a year now and for some inexplicable reason I cannot allow tomorrow to dawn without one being in place. Enough of unfinished projects! Enough of unfiled clutter! Enough, I say!
This preparation is not just limited to the physical, but also the financial. I simply must have Jay's outstanding expense reports completed, all bills paid in advance, and as much of our taxes done as possible. Why? I don't know, I just do. I need to have everything in order, and yesterday. How about the kids' valentines? Birthday gifts for next month's birthdays? Look out, because they are getting done now!
If I could bottle this hormone, whatever it is, and save it for non-pregnant times, I would be on top of the world. An eighth of this energy and determination would keep my house humming all year long.
Why isn't someone researching this?
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Not As Bad As It Sounded
When they first told me that the oral diabetes medication was not working and that I was going to have to begin twice daily, self-administered insulin injections--in the pregnant belly, no less--I nearly passed out.
I am a needle-phobe who cannot even look when they draw blood for fear of hitting the floor. As a nurse's daughter, I always knew I would need to pursue a different career (and did)!
But, amazingly, it is not so bad. In fact, it hurts less than the finger pokes needed to check the blood sugar. Perhaps I have become one of those super human moms who can lift cars if needed to protect her child. Maybe if this were not for the baby I would be unable to do it at all. But whatever the reason, I AM doing it, and it's really, truly not that bad. Who would have guessed?
Now, let's just hope this works!
I am a needle-phobe who cannot even look when they draw blood for fear of hitting the floor. As a nurse's daughter, I always knew I would need to pursue a different career (and did)!
But, amazingly, it is not so bad. In fact, it hurts less than the finger pokes needed to check the blood sugar. Perhaps I have become one of those super human moms who can lift cars if needed to protect her child. Maybe if this were not for the baby I would be unable to do it at all. But whatever the reason, I AM doing it, and it's really, truly not that bad. Who would have guessed?
Now, let's just hope this works!
Saturday, January 27, 2007
I Know Just How He Feels
Lesson learned from toddler: When it all becomes too much for you, just drop where you are and sleep it off.
Result: lowered stress, a well-rested body and a renewed spirit.
(Warning: Better in theory than practice for mothers.)
Friday, January 26, 2007
Happy Birthday Lindsey
OK, so I'm a few days late (it was a week ago now--how did that happen!), but I did not want to miss officially wishing Lindsey a happy 7th birthday.
23 girls, a spaghetti lunch, and a horse-themed party packed with activities made for a full afternoon, a happy birthday girl (and one tired mom).
Lindsey, who we often refer to as "the nicest person in our family, parents included" is growing up too fast. What happened to our baby who spent the first few days of her life uncharacteristically frowning? Who is this considerate, sensitive girl who can read, do math and is already flip flopping in gymnastics? And what happened to her two front teeth?!
We love you so much, precious Lindsey. Thank you for the light you bring to our family, the love you put in our hearts and for being exactly who you are.
23 girls, a spaghetti lunch, and a horse-themed party packed with activities made for a full afternoon, a happy birthday girl (and one tired mom).
Lindsey, who we often refer to as "the nicest person in our family, parents included" is growing up too fast. What happened to our baby who spent the first few days of her life uncharacteristically frowning? Who is this considerate, sensitive girl who can read, do math and is already flip flopping in gymnastics? And what happened to her two front teeth?!
We love you so much, precious Lindsey. Thank you for the light you bring to our family, the love you put in our hearts and for being exactly who you are.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Internet Angels
About a month ago, the National Catholic Register printed a letter to the editor about the danger and deception of online relationships. I did not read this letter myself, but followed the reactive threads on a few blogs I read regularly. Specifically, this letter claimed:
"Bloggers act as though they are buddies who really know each other, who have actual involvement in one another’s lives. I think this 'virtual community' is an illusion at best, dangerous at worst. The blogosphere isn’t a real community."
I didn't feel particularly compelled to write about this at the time, but in the last few weeks my opinion on this matter has become much stronger.
I enjoy my online community and the friendly relationships I feel I have developed with regular commenters on this blog, many of whom I have never met. I like reading their blogs (even though I myself am an admittedly infrequent commenter) and seeing their comments on mine. When I read of a trial that a fellow blogger is having, I stop and pray for them. Sometimes I even add their intentions to our family's evening prayers (prompting "who's that?" questions from the kids). This feels quite real to me and I am convinced of the power my prayers have for them, no matter where or who they are. Prayers are prayers.
In the past month, I have put up several posts about things going on in my life that have received incredible support from my online community. I have been so touched by the comments and promises of prayers from people who don't know me beyond this blog. I have received good advice, understanding, and encouragement from the blogosphere, and I most definitely believe it is a real community.
Today, for example, I learned that Father Augustine, a Benedictine monk from the U.K. who learned about my pregnancy complications from a reader, said mass for me yesterday. How is this not real? Is the reader who shared my concerns with him not a real friend, regardless of how anonymous she is to me personally?
I understand, of course, that not all online communities pure and good. Some are just the opposite. But this one, comprised of mostly Catholic moms intending nothing but to support and inspire each other, is a really, really good thing.
The letter to the NCR goes on to speak of the danger of abandoning one's real family in favor of nurturing online relationships, which I suppose could be a valid concern in a few, isolated situations. But if the little free time we moms have after our children are in bed can be spent encouraging each other in our vocation, how can this be bad?
Being a stay at home or homeschooling mother can be very isolating. Finding like-minded mothers, or even parenting literature to support you can be difficult. The Internet, blogging in particular, has opened a door for people all over the world with similar ideals to bond together. Just because its happening on a computer screen instead of in the living room doesn't make it any less real or valuable.
Thank you, to all of you who read and comment so encouragingly on this blog. I appreciate you very, very much!
"Bloggers act as though they are buddies who really know each other, who have actual involvement in one another’s lives. I think this 'virtual community' is an illusion at best, dangerous at worst. The blogosphere isn’t a real community."
I didn't feel particularly compelled to write about this at the time, but in the last few weeks my opinion on this matter has become much stronger.
I enjoy my online community and the friendly relationships I feel I have developed with regular commenters on this blog, many of whom I have never met. I like reading their blogs (even though I myself am an admittedly infrequent commenter) and seeing their comments on mine. When I read of a trial that a fellow blogger is having, I stop and pray for them. Sometimes I even add their intentions to our family's evening prayers (prompting "who's that?" questions from the kids). This feels quite real to me and I am convinced of the power my prayers have for them, no matter where or who they are. Prayers are prayers.
In the past month, I have put up several posts about things going on in my life that have received incredible support from my online community. I have been so touched by the comments and promises of prayers from people who don't know me beyond this blog. I have received good advice, understanding, and encouragement from the blogosphere, and I most definitely believe it is a real community.
Today, for example, I learned that Father Augustine, a Benedictine monk from the U.K. who learned about my pregnancy complications from a reader, said mass for me yesterday. How is this not real? Is the reader who shared my concerns with him not a real friend, regardless of how anonymous she is to me personally?
I understand, of course, that not all online communities pure and good. Some are just the opposite. But this one, comprised of mostly Catholic moms intending nothing but to support and inspire each other, is a really, really good thing.
The letter to the NCR goes on to speak of the danger of abandoning one's real family in favor of nurturing online relationships, which I suppose could be a valid concern in a few, isolated situations. But if the little free time we moms have after our children are in bed can be spent encouraging each other in our vocation, how can this be bad?
Being a stay at home or homeschooling mother can be very isolating. Finding like-minded mothers, or even parenting literature to support you can be difficult. The Internet, blogging in particular, has opened a door for people all over the world with similar ideals to bond together. Just because its happening on a computer screen instead of in the living room doesn't make it any less real or valuable.
Thank you, to all of you who read and comment so encouragingly on this blog. I appreciate you very, very much!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
The Road Is Paved With Good Intentions
And you all know what road I'm talking about.
This morning I had the crazy, idyllic notion that I'd take my two older children (7 and 8) to see a matinee production of "My Fair Lady" at the local playhouse. As this is one of my favorite plays, I could not wait to share the story with Joey and Lindsey, and discuss afterward the important ideas brought forth in the play (using people as objects for personal gain, etc. etc.).
After mass I secured tickets from a woman in my choir who happens to be in the production and went on home, happy with the anticipation that I was going to have a nice afternoon with my children who are now getting old enough to do these sorts of things. Yeah, right.
It started off badly, because Joey did not want to go. He claimed he wanted to watch playoff football with dad (although he was suspiciously playing Lindsey's new horse-themed computer game at the time of protest). I convinced him that he would love it, and that it was really part of his homeschool curriculum, as he does not have the same opportunities to attend plays on field trips like Lindsey and Sam do at school. He begrudgingly accompanied me to the car and perked up as I began to tell the kids about the story. Joey likes any story that involves a cad.
The kids enjoyed the theater well enough, and we arrived early enough to get hot cocoa for them. They liked looking at the cast pictures and flipping through the program, and they especially enjoyed looking forward to intermission when they were to receive the chocolate chip cookies I had brought along. I relaxed and delighted in my maturing children. Big mistake.
Before the overture was even halfway over, the squirming began.
"I can't see."
"I want to trade seats."
"Can I take my shoes off?"
(Loudly) "Why does that guy in front of us have such weird hair?"
"Can I sit on your lap?" (What lap?!)
This, unfortunately, is a play that takes a few scenes to get going. By the time the story was underway, I had lost both kids, Joey to the point of no recovery. He was banging his head against the seat, causing the whole row to shake. Lindsey was half-standing in her seat to see better (at least she was somewhat interested!) to the detriment of the people behind her. Repeated, loudly whispered questions about the play and WHEN it was going to be over caused those around us to shoot dirty looks in our direction. I knew we were going to have to make a break for it at intermission.
As it happens, this was the longest first act I have ever sat through. Two torturous hours. To add to the fun, about halfway through I got my dreaded mid afternoon blood sugar dive and broke into shakes and a cold sweat. I now know about when this is going to occur, so I was prepared with my dietitian-approved snack, but as I retrieved it it caused so much commotion, rustling and protests from the kids that I was afraid the usher was going to come throw us out (that might have been a blessing).
"How come YOU can have that now and we can't have our cookies? That's not fair."
"Because mommy is going to pass out if she doesn't eat RIGHT NOW."
"I'm going to pass out too!" Right. Of course you are.
As soon as intermission came, we ran out of the theater in shame, Joey rejoicing yet still complaining, and Lindsey crying because she wanted to see the rest.
As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Joey summed it up for all of us:
"That sucked the life out of me."
Maybe they need a few more years.
This morning I had the crazy, idyllic notion that I'd take my two older children (7 and 8) to see a matinee production of "My Fair Lady" at the local playhouse. As this is one of my favorite plays, I could not wait to share the story with Joey and Lindsey, and discuss afterward the important ideas brought forth in the play (using people as objects for personal gain, etc. etc.).
After mass I secured tickets from a woman in my choir who happens to be in the production and went on home, happy with the anticipation that I was going to have a nice afternoon with my children who are now getting old enough to do these sorts of things. Yeah, right.
It started off badly, because Joey did not want to go. He claimed he wanted to watch playoff football with dad (although he was suspiciously playing Lindsey's new horse-themed computer game at the time of protest). I convinced him that he would love it, and that it was really part of his homeschool curriculum, as he does not have the same opportunities to attend plays on field trips like Lindsey and Sam do at school. He begrudgingly accompanied me to the car and perked up as I began to tell the kids about the story. Joey likes any story that involves a cad.
The kids enjoyed the theater well enough, and we arrived early enough to get hot cocoa for them. They liked looking at the cast pictures and flipping through the program, and they especially enjoyed looking forward to intermission when they were to receive the chocolate chip cookies I had brought along. I relaxed and delighted in my maturing children. Big mistake.
Before the overture was even halfway over, the squirming began.
"I can't see."
"I want to trade seats."
"Can I take my shoes off?"
(Loudly) "Why does that guy in front of us have such weird hair?"
"Can I sit on your lap?" (What lap?!)
This, unfortunately, is a play that takes a few scenes to get going. By the time the story was underway, I had lost both kids, Joey to the point of no recovery. He was banging his head against the seat, causing the whole row to shake. Lindsey was half-standing in her seat to see better (at least she was somewhat interested!) to the detriment of the people behind her. Repeated, loudly whispered questions about the play and WHEN it was going to be over caused those around us to shoot dirty looks in our direction. I knew we were going to have to make a break for it at intermission.
As it happens, this was the longest first act I have ever sat through. Two torturous hours. To add to the fun, about halfway through I got my dreaded mid afternoon blood sugar dive and broke into shakes and a cold sweat. I now know about when this is going to occur, so I was prepared with my dietitian-approved snack, but as I retrieved it it caused so much commotion, rustling and protests from the kids that I was afraid the usher was going to come throw us out (that might have been a blessing).
"How come YOU can have that now and we can't have our cookies? That's not fair."
"Because mommy is going to pass out if she doesn't eat RIGHT NOW."
"I'm going to pass out too!" Right. Of course you are.
As soon as intermission came, we ran out of the theater in shame, Joey rejoicing yet still complaining, and Lindsey crying because she wanted to see the rest.
As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Joey summed it up for all of us:
"That sucked the life out of me."
Maybe they need a few more years.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Just for Fun
I enjoyed logging on to Danielle Bean's blog this morning to see that she referenced a comment I left on our unusual large-family transport vehicle. So, just for fun, I thought I'd post a picture for those who are interested.
Jay likes to watch those reality TV shows where they take someone's junker car (or house or whatever) and refurbish it, and he is ever hopeful that someone will "Pimp My Ride" (as it has plenty of not-so-charming cosmetic and mechanical issues). Could be fun. Could be scary. In the mean time, it's actually pretty nice to have just the way it is.
Jay likes to watch those reality TV shows where they take someone's junker car (or house or whatever) and refurbish it, and he is ever hopeful that someone will "Pimp My Ride" (as it has plenty of not-so-charming cosmetic and mechanical issues). Could be fun. Could be scary. In the mean time, it's actually pretty nice to have just the way it is.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Betrayed
I can hardly believe a week has passed since my last post. All I can say about this is that I have been very self-absorbed this past week, totally focused on a most surprising yet ultimately inevitable betrayer: my own body.
I have always been blessed with good health. Even putting my body through closely spaced pregnancies hasn't phased it much, until now. But I guess it's had it. It's tired. It's saying enough. It is rebelling.
The last time I had gestational diabetes, all I had to do was slightly alter my eating schedule, knock out refined sugars and be sure I ate enough protein in combination with any carbs. It was almost effortless to keep my sugars within normal, healthy ranges for the duration of my pregnancy. Then, when I didn't even come down with this condition during my pregnancy with Tony, I thought I was in great shape. But, alas, it was only lying dormant, gathering strength for its next visit.
This time I cannot control my blood sugar with my diet. I have meticulously followed a ridiculously complicated diet, eaten at all hours of the day, measured everything that has gone in my mouth, taken my vitamins, choked down glass after glass of water, yet to no avail. Yesterday my doctor conceded failure on my behalf (after emphatically assuring me that this is not in any way my fault, which I appreciated very much) and prescribed glybuteride to stimulate my pancreas to make more insulin.
The good news is that it is working. My sugars are quite low today and everyone is happy that my body can respond to this kick start and not need insulin injections at this point. The bad news is that it is working too well and I am now fighting hypoglycemia. The nutritionist (who is great, by the way) warned me that this might happen as my body adjusts to new levels of insulin production, but I feel like a science experiment gone wrong. Now an hour after each meal, I find myself staving off a cold sweat and shaking fingers by pounding milk. Go figure! The doctors assure me this is far preferable to the high blood sugars which can harm the baby, but it all seems a little crazy to me. Ultimately, I trust the advice I am being given, which matches all the research I have been doing, but one can't help really, really praying that these people know what they are doing!
I have been signed up for twice weekly fetal monitoring and ultrasound, where they will watch this little one kick and follow her heartbeat for 30 minutes at a time to be sure all is well, and measure the growth to be sure she does not become to large for a safe vaginal delivery. I am thrilled with the responsiveness I have from Kaiser (this is my first Kaiser pregnancy) and the amount of attention they are giving this condition, although, of course, I wish none of it were necessary.
Thank you for bearing with this medical whoa-is-me post. Overnight I have become one of those elderly folks who can't think or talk about anything other than their own health problems! Aaaarrrggg! But I can relate to them now. One's health can be all-consuming, especially when the health of another is dependent on it.
Well, thank goodness I have a toddler, a destructive puppy and 4 other helpful, wonderful children to distract me--we all know I can't stay focused on myself for long!
I have always been blessed with good health. Even putting my body through closely spaced pregnancies hasn't phased it much, until now. But I guess it's had it. It's tired. It's saying enough. It is rebelling.
The last time I had gestational diabetes, all I had to do was slightly alter my eating schedule, knock out refined sugars and be sure I ate enough protein in combination with any carbs. It was almost effortless to keep my sugars within normal, healthy ranges for the duration of my pregnancy. Then, when I didn't even come down with this condition during my pregnancy with Tony, I thought I was in great shape. But, alas, it was only lying dormant, gathering strength for its next visit.
This time I cannot control my blood sugar with my diet. I have meticulously followed a ridiculously complicated diet, eaten at all hours of the day, measured everything that has gone in my mouth, taken my vitamins, choked down glass after glass of water, yet to no avail. Yesterday my doctor conceded failure on my behalf (after emphatically assuring me that this is not in any way my fault, which I appreciated very much) and prescribed glybuteride to stimulate my pancreas to make more insulin.
The good news is that it is working. My sugars are quite low today and everyone is happy that my body can respond to this kick start and not need insulin injections at this point. The bad news is that it is working too well and I am now fighting hypoglycemia. The nutritionist (who is great, by the way) warned me that this might happen as my body adjusts to new levels of insulin production, but I feel like a science experiment gone wrong. Now an hour after each meal, I find myself staving off a cold sweat and shaking fingers by pounding milk. Go figure! The doctors assure me this is far preferable to the high blood sugars which can harm the baby, but it all seems a little crazy to me. Ultimately, I trust the advice I am being given, which matches all the research I have been doing, but one can't help really, really praying that these people know what they are doing!
I have been signed up for twice weekly fetal monitoring and ultrasound, where they will watch this little one kick and follow her heartbeat for 30 minutes at a time to be sure all is well, and measure the growth to be sure she does not become to large for a safe vaginal delivery. I am thrilled with the responsiveness I have from Kaiser (this is my first Kaiser pregnancy) and the amount of attention they are giving this condition, although, of course, I wish none of it were necessary.
Thank you for bearing with this medical whoa-is-me post. Overnight I have become one of those elderly folks who can't think or talk about anything other than their own health problems! Aaaarrrggg! But I can relate to them now. One's health can be all-consuming, especially when the health of another is dependent on it.
Well, thank goodness I have a toddler, a destructive puppy and 4 other helpful, wonderful children to distract me--we all know I can't stay focused on myself for long!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Puppies are Good For Something After All
Since the arrival of Trooper the puppy, many things have been different in our house. Most of these are things I anticipated and dreaded: doggy potty training, constant puppy chewing, nighttime why-aren't-you-sleeping-in-my-crate-with-me whimpers (although, thankfully, these have been minimal), rowdy puppy play that knocks toddlers over, muddy paw prints on the slider and in the kitchen, etc., etc., etc.
However, as I look around my family room and kitchen, I am noticing that, truly, these rooms have never been as consistently uncluttered or cleanly swept. Why, you ask? Because Trooper picks up and eats or chews absolutely everything he can find. It took the kids about 15 minutes to learn to put their toys and shoes away if they didn't want them destroyed. Who knew it could be this simple? Over the course of a few days, it's as if Supernanny came and whipped everyone into shape. Shoes are all in the shoe basket. Toys are put away upstairs. And, as a bonus, crumbs are whisked away almost before they hit the floor.
This whole dog thing may have been a better idea than I originally thought.
However, as I look around my family room and kitchen, I am noticing that, truly, these rooms have never been as consistently uncluttered or cleanly swept. Why, you ask? Because Trooper picks up and eats or chews absolutely everything he can find. It took the kids about 15 minutes to learn to put their toys and shoes away if they didn't want them destroyed. Who knew it could be this simple? Over the course of a few days, it's as if Supernanny came and whipped everyone into shape. Shoes are all in the shoe basket. Toys are put away upstairs. And, as a bonus, crumbs are whisked away almost before they hit the floor.
This whole dog thing may have been a better idea than I originally thought.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Spelling = D+A+D
What a difference a fairly small change can make in one's life. In this case, I am talking about removing spelling as a distinct subject from my homeschooling day.
Obviously, Joey needs to learn spelling. But over the course of the first semester of our homeschooling adventure it has become more and more evident that I am not the best one to teach him this particular subject.
Without intending to congratulate myself too much (because I still experience plenty of bumps in the road and have many concerns about the details of my eldest son's overall learning), I have to say that we have come a long way so far this school year. I have grown as a teacher and he has settled nicely into being a homeschooled student. He is excelling in Math, Science and History, and is getting stronger and stronger with reading. I truly enjoy teaching him most of the time and he seems to enjoy me being his teacher. It is good time for us both, and he is most definitely a happier and more confident child than he was a year ago, maybe ever.
All this good comes to a complete halt, however, when spelling time arrives. I don't know what happened or where I went wrong, but our otherwise fairly pleasant day turns into a snarling mess that usually involves tears (which one of us depends on the day), raised voices and sometimes even a thrown book (again, which one of us depends on the day, I am ashamed to admit).
Jay, who now works mostly from home and is a witness to the ebbs and flows of the homeschool day, offered some friendly suggestions as to how these 20 minutes or so per day might be improved. Without recalling EXACTLY how this went, I can generalize that this frustrated and hormonal mom did not receive this constructive and well-intended criticism well, and before we both knew it, Joey had a new spelling teacher.
God bless my husband! He agreed to take on this single subject as his very own and can be seen at random times during the day clutching Joey's spelling list and drilling him while, for instance, preparing his lunch or accompanying the dog out for a potty training session. Joey, who absolutely adores his dad, complies more easily on this hated subject for Jay, and Jay has a fresh perspective and keeps it positive. In the meantime, my subjects have shuffled around in such a way that I am done at least half an hour earlier and both Joey and I are happy and calm through most of the day. Every subject has become easier for us because we are not dreading the inevitable spelling blow up.
For me, Jay's involvement signifies something even more important: his complete acceptance of the very idea of homeschoooling Joey. At first, he understandably questioned whether or not bringing him home was a good idea. He supported my decision, but it was ultimately my decision, not his. After seeing the good this has done for not just Joey but the entire family, he now believes it was the absolute right decision and is willing to contribute toward making it work. This pleases me immensely.
So, I have a new puppy I didn't want, and Jay is a spelling teacher when he'd prefer not to be. And you know what? We're somehow glad to make these sacrifices for eachother (though we reserve the right to complain about them occasionally). Now THAT's a happy marriage!
Obviously, Joey needs to learn spelling. But over the course of the first semester of our homeschooling adventure it has become more and more evident that I am not the best one to teach him this particular subject.
Without intending to congratulate myself too much (because I still experience plenty of bumps in the road and have many concerns about the details of my eldest son's overall learning), I have to say that we have come a long way so far this school year. I have grown as a teacher and he has settled nicely into being a homeschooled student. He is excelling in Math, Science and History, and is getting stronger and stronger with reading. I truly enjoy teaching him most of the time and he seems to enjoy me being his teacher. It is good time for us both, and he is most definitely a happier and more confident child than he was a year ago, maybe ever.
All this good comes to a complete halt, however, when spelling time arrives. I don't know what happened or where I went wrong, but our otherwise fairly pleasant day turns into a snarling mess that usually involves tears (which one of us depends on the day), raised voices and sometimes even a thrown book (again, which one of us depends on the day, I am ashamed to admit).
Jay, who now works mostly from home and is a witness to the ebbs and flows of the homeschool day, offered some friendly suggestions as to how these 20 minutes or so per day might be improved. Without recalling EXACTLY how this went, I can generalize that this frustrated and hormonal mom did not receive this constructive and well-intended criticism well, and before we both knew it, Joey had a new spelling teacher.
God bless my husband! He agreed to take on this single subject as his very own and can be seen at random times during the day clutching Joey's spelling list and drilling him while, for instance, preparing his lunch or accompanying the dog out for a potty training session. Joey, who absolutely adores his dad, complies more easily on this hated subject for Jay, and Jay has a fresh perspective and keeps it positive. In the meantime, my subjects have shuffled around in such a way that I am done at least half an hour earlier and both Joey and I are happy and calm through most of the day. Every subject has become easier for us because we are not dreading the inevitable spelling blow up.
For me, Jay's involvement signifies something even more important: his complete acceptance of the very idea of homeschoooling Joey. At first, he understandably questioned whether or not bringing him home was a good idea. He supported my decision, but it was ultimately my decision, not his. After seeing the good this has done for not just Joey but the entire family, he now believes it was the absolute right decision and is willing to contribute toward making it work. This pleases me immensely.
So, I have a new puppy I didn't want, and Jay is a spelling teacher when he'd prefer not to be. And you know what? We're somehow glad to make these sacrifices for eachother (though we reserve the right to complain about them occasionally). Now THAT's a happy marriage!
Saturday, January 06, 2007
On the Eleventh and Twelfth Days of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, twelve bags of garbage, eleven loads of laundry,
ten rowdy kindergartners, nine years of dog care, eight weeks 'til baby, seven hours of slothdom, six pounds of onions, five charming kids, four needle sticks, three game controllers, two duelling dog lover, and my health and some sanity.
Happy Epiphany (technically tomorrow on this year's calendar, but usually it's today)!
Twelve Bags of Garbage and Eleven Loads of Laundry
Yipee, I finally have some energy back (and granted, this is relative energy, but I'll take what I can get)! Naturally, I've spent the last two days trying to reclaim my disastrous house and have made a small dent. I have solidly kicked the laundry pile and found bags and bags of things to throw away, especially from the garage and car. This is so satisfying. Nothing makes me feel better than getting the house under control, and this is a battle I had been losing for weeks. May my energy hold out so I can fiercely nest for the next several weeks!
I have a healthy new respect for iron, as replacing mine seems to have really made a difference in how I've been feeling. Water, too. It's a good thing.
We now officially end the 12 days of Christmas and will be getting back to regular, random postings. Hope you enjoyed the detour.
ten rowdy kindergartners, nine years of dog care, eight weeks 'til baby, seven hours of slothdom, six pounds of onions, five charming kids, four needle sticks, three game controllers, two duelling dog lover, and my health and some sanity.
Happy Epiphany (technically tomorrow on this year's calendar, but usually it's today)!
Twelve Bags of Garbage and Eleven Loads of Laundry
Yipee, I finally have some energy back (and granted, this is relative energy, but I'll take what I can get)! Naturally, I've spent the last two days trying to reclaim my disastrous house and have made a small dent. I have solidly kicked the laundry pile and found bags and bags of things to throw away, especially from the garage and car. This is so satisfying. Nothing makes me feel better than getting the house under control, and this is a battle I had been losing for weeks. May my energy hold out so I can fiercely nest for the next several weeks!
I have a healthy new respect for iron, as replacing mine seems to have really made a difference in how I've been feeling. Water, too. It's a good thing.
We now officially end the 12 days of Christmas and will be getting back to regular, random postings. Hope you enjoyed the detour.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Catholic Devotion Meme
I have been tagged by Nutmeg to complete this meme on Catholic Devotion. So, here goes...
1. Favorite devotion or prayer to Jesus?
The Litany of Humility. How much simpler my life would be if I could really attain even some of these seemingly unattainable petitions!
2. Favorite Marian devotion or prayer?
Hail, Holy Queen. My favorite part is how it refers to our life here on earth as our exile. This reminds me that life here is not supposed to be easy, that heaven is our reward for making it through all the tough stuff here.
3. Do you wear a scapular or medal?
No, I never have. As a convert, I haven't yet figured out what they all mean. I do wear a cross, though, which I rarely take off.
4. Do you have holy water in your home?
Yes. Recently, the kids put some up in by the door to their playroom and insist on dipping and crossing every time they enter. They even remind those of us who forget to do so to back up and try again. I haven't decided yet if this is sacrilegious since the playroom is probably the least holy room in the house, but it is so sweet to see them have any devotion, that I have let it continue.
5. Do you ‘offer up’ your sufferings?
When I remember! I usually offer maternity-related suffering (which accounts for most of my physical suffering) for my pregnant friends and their safe deliveries. Offering up contractions during labor, one at a time, literally gets me through it. I wish I remembered more often to offer up the non-physical trials of life, because suffering for another's intention really does help lessen your own burden.
6. Do you observe First Fridays and First Saturdays?
No.
7. Do you go to Eucharistic Adoration?
Occasionally, and I am always glad and filled with peace when I do. I should go more often. Our church has a beautiful 24 hour chapel, so I really have no excuse for not getting there more.
8. Are you a Saturday evening Mass person or Sunday morning Mass person?
Sunday morning, always, because I sing in the choir. Even before I sang in the choir we always went Sunday morning.
9. Do you say prayers at mealtime?
Yes. Usually just grace before, but sometimes since we are all together at the table (on a good day!) we remember someone in particular that needs prayers or some special intention our family has.
10. Favorite Saint(s)?
Saint Anthony, Saint Josemaria Escriva, Saint Joseph, getting to know Saint Cecilia.
11. Can you recite the Apostles Creed by heart?
Yes.
12. Do you usually say short prayers (aspirations) during the course of the day?
Yes, usually asking for help or giving thanks as the day plays out.
13. Where is your favorite place to pray?
In the car if the kids are quiet (or, more likely, absent) and in bed at night. I often fall asleep saying my prayers and I used to feel bad about this until a priest told me that angels finish unfinished prayers on your behalf in this situation. A lovely thought.
14. Bonus Question: When you pass by an automobile accident or other serious mishap, do you say a quick prayer for the folks involved?
Often. Sometimes I just gawk, but when it's really serious I always do and ask the kids to join me.
I always enjoy the memes. Thanks for the tag, Nutmeg! If anyone wants to put their own responses in the comments, I would love to read them.
1. Favorite devotion or prayer to Jesus?
The Litany of Humility. How much simpler my life would be if I could really attain even some of these seemingly unattainable petitions!
2. Favorite Marian devotion or prayer?
Hail, Holy Queen. My favorite part is how it refers to our life here on earth as our exile. This reminds me that life here is not supposed to be easy, that heaven is our reward for making it through all the tough stuff here.
3. Do you wear a scapular or medal?
No, I never have. As a convert, I haven't yet figured out what they all mean. I do wear a cross, though, which I rarely take off.
4. Do you have holy water in your home?
Yes. Recently, the kids put some up in by the door to their playroom and insist on dipping and crossing every time they enter. They even remind those of us who forget to do so to back up and try again. I haven't decided yet if this is sacrilegious since the playroom is probably the least holy room in the house, but it is so sweet to see them have any devotion, that I have let it continue.
5. Do you ‘offer up’ your sufferings?
When I remember! I usually offer maternity-related suffering (which accounts for most of my physical suffering) for my pregnant friends and their safe deliveries. Offering up contractions during labor, one at a time, literally gets me through it. I wish I remembered more often to offer up the non-physical trials of life, because suffering for another's intention really does help lessen your own burden.
6. Do you observe First Fridays and First Saturdays?
No.
7. Do you go to Eucharistic Adoration?
Occasionally, and I am always glad and filled with peace when I do. I should go more often. Our church has a beautiful 24 hour chapel, so I really have no excuse for not getting there more.
8. Are you a Saturday evening Mass person or Sunday morning Mass person?
Sunday morning, always, because I sing in the choir. Even before I sang in the choir we always went Sunday morning.
9. Do you say prayers at mealtime?
Yes. Usually just grace before, but sometimes since we are all together at the table (on a good day!) we remember someone in particular that needs prayers or some special intention our family has.
10. Favorite Saint(s)?
Saint Anthony, Saint Josemaria Escriva, Saint Joseph, getting to know Saint Cecilia.
11. Can you recite the Apostles Creed by heart?
Yes.
12. Do you usually say short prayers (aspirations) during the course of the day?
Yes, usually asking for help or giving thanks as the day plays out.
13. Where is your favorite place to pray?
In the car if the kids are quiet (or, more likely, absent) and in bed at night. I often fall asleep saying my prayers and I used to feel bad about this until a priest told me that angels finish unfinished prayers on your behalf in this situation. A lovely thought.
14. Bonus Question: When you pass by an automobile accident or other serious mishap, do you say a quick prayer for the folks involved?
Often. Sometimes I just gawk, but when it's really serious I always do and ask the kids to join me.
I always enjoy the memes. Thanks for the tag, Nutmeg! If anyone wants to put their own responses in the comments, I would love to read them.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Introducing the Newest Di Silvestri
I give you Trooper.
Cute, isn't he? Even I have to admit it. And he's really soft, too. But most important, Jay and Joey are totally delighted. I has to be worth it. Somehow.
On the Seventh, Eighth, Ninth and Tenth Days of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, ten rowdy 5 year olds, nine years of dog care, eight weeks 'til baby, seven hours of slothdom,
six pounds of onions, five charming kids, four needle sticks, three game controllers, two duelling dog lovers, and my health and some sanity.
Ten Rowdy Five Year Olds
Remember the silver lining to the terrible, awful, horrible mass experience I had just before Christmas? It blossomed for me today, as one of the kind Kindergarten moms called and invited Sam to her son's (small) birthday party. This was a direct result of our meeting in the cry room, and both Sam and I had a very nice time. I sent the other kids with their grandmothers for the afternoon (thanks, grandmas!) so I could go with just Sam and focus on getting to know some of the other moms. It worked out great and I have now built some new bridges.
Nine Years of Dog Care
(At least!) Yes, you guessed it, the "boys" brought home their new dog last night. He is a very cute and sweet Mastiff puppy whom Joey has named Trooper. It is technically his dog, but we shall see how this actually turns out in the long run. So far Joey has been an eager dog dad, cleaning up after him, taking inappropriate items out of his mouth as fast as he can suck them in, and patiently taking him out to his potty area frequently. I forgot how much a puppy is like a toddler, but so far both Jay and Joey respect that I wanted nothing to do with this and are scrambling to make sure none of it is my problem. I assume that this, too, will wane with time, but I am grateful for their efforts nonetheless.
Eight Weeks 'Til Baby
32 weeks and counting. It is at this point in the pregnancy that I start counting again. I do it during the first nausea-laden weeks, praying to get to the magic 13 when I feel better, and I start again right about now, praying that this child will have the decency to come just a little bit early. Even a few days. Please?
Seven Hours of Slothdom
After a day or two of feeling better (see the "first day of Christmas"), I became quite ill again, and have spent much of the last week either sleeping or lazing around on various couches to the detriment of my family and home. I'm not sure if it is the same thing (it does appear to be the same cough, only more persistent) or some variation of the stomach flu (since that has been an unwelcome added element this week), but the doctor tells me that I am anemic and dehydrated as well as diabetic, so it's no wonder I don't want to get out of bed. Thank goodness the baby seems to be thriving, and that's all that really matters, but I have now been enrolled in the "special" OB program for the duration of my pregnancy, since I am not (thriving, that is). But, still, I hope to be back to my quasi-normal self soon. I've added iron pills and vitamins to my diet, and am forcing water down as much as my stomach can take it, so it shouldn't be long before I'm back in the saddle...I hope!
six pounds of onions, five charming kids, four needle sticks, three game controllers, two duelling dog lovers, and my health and some sanity.
Ten Rowdy Five Year Olds
Remember the silver lining to the terrible, awful, horrible mass experience I had just before Christmas? It blossomed for me today, as one of the kind Kindergarten moms called and invited Sam to her son's (small) birthday party. This was a direct result of our meeting in the cry room, and both Sam and I had a very nice time. I sent the other kids with their grandmothers for the afternoon (thanks, grandmas!) so I could go with just Sam and focus on getting to know some of the other moms. It worked out great and I have now built some new bridges.
Nine Years of Dog Care
(At least!) Yes, you guessed it, the "boys" brought home their new dog last night. He is a very cute and sweet Mastiff puppy whom Joey has named Trooper. It is technically his dog, but we shall see how this actually turns out in the long run. So far Joey has been an eager dog dad, cleaning up after him, taking inappropriate items out of his mouth as fast as he can suck them in, and patiently taking him out to his potty area frequently. I forgot how much a puppy is like a toddler, but so far both Jay and Joey respect that I wanted nothing to do with this and are scrambling to make sure none of it is my problem. I assume that this, too, will wane with time, but I am grateful for their efforts nonetheless.
Eight Weeks 'Til Baby
32 weeks and counting. It is at this point in the pregnancy that I start counting again. I do it during the first nausea-laden weeks, praying to get to the magic 13 when I feel better, and I start again right about now, praying that this child will have the decency to come just a little bit early. Even a few days. Please?
Seven Hours of Slothdom
After a day or two of feeling better (see the "first day of Christmas"), I became quite ill again, and have spent much of the last week either sleeping or lazing around on various couches to the detriment of my family and home. I'm not sure if it is the same thing (it does appear to be the same cough, only more persistent) or some variation of the stomach flu (since that has been an unwelcome added element this week), but the doctor tells me that I am anemic and dehydrated as well as diabetic, so it's no wonder I don't want to get out of bed. Thank goodness the baby seems to be thriving, and that's all that really matters, but I have now been enrolled in the "special" OB program for the duration of my pregnancy, since I am not (thriving, that is). But, still, I hope to be back to my quasi-normal self soon. I've added iron pills and vitamins to my diet, and am forcing water down as much as my stomach can take it, so it shouldn't be long before I'm back in the saddle...I hope!
Monday, January 01, 2007
On the Fifth and Sixth Days of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, six pounds of onions, five charming children,
four needle sticks, three game controllers, two duelling dog lovers, and my health and some sanity.
Six Pounds of Onions
Happy New Year!
Last night we celebrated the new year with old friends from our former parish that we don't get to see very often. 16 adults and 16 kids (granted, most of them ours) made for quite a celebration.
I spent the afternoon serving as prep chef for my ambitious friend who was serving a multi-course sit down Prime Rib and shrimp dinner. I volunteered for any job that allowed me to sit, and that meant chopping. I sliced 6 pounds of onions, prepped 3 heads of cauliflower, peeled 24 potatoes and grated Gruyere cheese, among other things. This exhausted me so thoroughly that I promptly fell asleep on the couch when I sat down for "just 15 minutes". Pathetic, but true. It was really nice to just follow instructions rather than direct a meal of this magnitude and I enjoyed the afternoon chatting with friends while everyone prepared things.
Unbelievably, most of the children stayed awake for midnight and were plied with poppers that they gleefully set off at midnight. True to form, Sam and Julia fell asleep in the middle of it all and were oblivious to the noise. How do they do that?
Anyway, it felt great to be welcomed so warmly back into our former community. During mass yesterday morning, the priest even mentioned how happy he was to see the "Di Silvestris of the Desert" back for a visit. This warmed out hearts immeasurably. It took us nearly 45 minutes to leave church after mass so busy were we greeting people that we have missed. I am very grateful that we, especially our children, can maintain the friendships that made leaving Northern California so difficult for us. It's like having the best of both worlds, old and new.
I hope everyone had a happy New Year celebration and that 2007 brings nothing but health and happiness to the fine readers of this blog.
Five Charming Children
Need I say more?
Now, I'm not saying they're charming all the time, but overall I give them good marks. We are truly blessed.
four needle sticks, three game controllers, two duelling dog lovers, and my health and some sanity.
Six Pounds of Onions
Happy New Year!
Last night we celebrated the new year with old friends from our former parish that we don't get to see very often. 16 adults and 16 kids (granted, most of them ours) made for quite a celebration.
I spent the afternoon serving as prep chef for my ambitious friend who was serving a multi-course sit down Prime Rib and shrimp dinner. I volunteered for any job that allowed me to sit, and that meant chopping. I sliced 6 pounds of onions, prepped 3 heads of cauliflower, peeled 24 potatoes and grated Gruyere cheese, among other things. This exhausted me so thoroughly that I promptly fell asleep on the couch when I sat down for "just 15 minutes". Pathetic, but true. It was really nice to just follow instructions rather than direct a meal of this magnitude and I enjoyed the afternoon chatting with friends while everyone prepared things.
Unbelievably, most of the children stayed awake for midnight and were plied with poppers that they gleefully set off at midnight. True to form, Sam and Julia fell asleep in the middle of it all and were oblivious to the noise. How do they do that?
Anyway, it felt great to be welcomed so warmly back into our former community. During mass yesterday morning, the priest even mentioned how happy he was to see the "Di Silvestris of the Desert" back for a visit. This warmed out hearts immeasurably. It took us nearly 45 minutes to leave church after mass so busy were we greeting people that we have missed. I am very grateful that we, especially our children, can maintain the friendships that made leaving Northern California so difficult for us. It's like having the best of both worlds, old and new.
I hope everyone had a happy New Year celebration and that 2007 brings nothing but health and happiness to the fine readers of this blog.
Five Charming Children
Need I say more?
Now, I'm not saying they're charming all the time, but overall I give them good marks. We are truly blessed.
Friday, December 29, 2006
On the Third and Fourth Day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, four needle sticks, three game controllers,
two duelling dog lovers, and my health and some sanity.
Four Needle Sticks
It's baaaaack! Gestational diabetes, that is. I thought perhaps I would escape this fate, as it did not rear its ugly head when I was pregnant with Tony, but alas I have not. I miserably failed my screening test and am dutifully turning myself into a pin cushion by testing my blood sugar four times a day.
Really, it isn't that bad. I have done this before (controlled the condition with diet alone) and I can do it again. It's just like giving up sweets for Lent, except a few weeks longer. Is it wrong to consider this a pre-offering for Lent and skip the giving up of sweets when Lent actually begins? Since Lent begins right about the time I am due to deliver, it would be a total of 16 weeks with no sugar, and I am not certain I can do this, especially immediately postpartum when I most crave sugar. That would be superhuman for a sweet-a-holic like me. Maybe I can give up something else this year. Like pregnancy.
Three Game Controllers
We are currently visiting friends who have a Game Cube. We don't have video games (not on principal, just haven't ever gotten around to it), so needless to say my kids are transfixed. This system happens to have four controllers, so many of the kids can play at once. Except Tony carried one off and we haven't yet uncovered it, so for now we have three.
The kids we are visiting got a new game for Christmas rated T for Teen instead of E for Everyone. When they asked if they could play it I replied that I had to watch for awhile to see how appropriate it was for my younger children. The game is some variation of Super Mario Brothers where the characters beat each other up.
I grew up in the 80s playing some Karate Champ game where "real people" tried to best each other with kicks and hand chops. I loved that game, and at first blush this game fondly reminded me of that one (although I would not now let my younger kids play that one since the people are "real"). But as I generally try to keep the kids away from anything at all blatantly violent, I watched carefully to see how this one would play out.
About three minutes into it I was laughing so hard I almost fell off the couch. The characters are not real people, they are Super Mario cartoon characters ranging from Donkey Kong to some fire breathing turtle thing. There is also a princess that kicks high like a can-can dancer in her ball gown. I watched my sweet Lindsey, the fire breathing turtle, attack my monkey older son and take him down completely. For some reason, this was so incongruously funny to me that I could not stop laughing. When another player, the princess, came and kicked the fire breathing turtle off the flying ship with a swoosh of her ball gown, I almost lost it.
I let the kids play.
When my friend came home I learned that she had asked her husband to return this game because of it's violent nature. Oops. Just goes to show how subjective parenting rules can be, even between families that share the same values.
two duelling dog lovers, and my health and some sanity.
Four Needle Sticks
It's baaaaack! Gestational diabetes, that is. I thought perhaps I would escape this fate, as it did not rear its ugly head when I was pregnant with Tony, but alas I have not. I miserably failed my screening test and am dutifully turning myself into a pin cushion by testing my blood sugar four times a day.
Really, it isn't that bad. I have done this before (controlled the condition with diet alone) and I can do it again. It's just like giving up sweets for Lent, except a few weeks longer. Is it wrong to consider this a pre-offering for Lent and skip the giving up of sweets when Lent actually begins? Since Lent begins right about the time I am due to deliver, it would be a total of 16 weeks with no sugar, and I am not certain I can do this, especially immediately postpartum when I most crave sugar. That would be superhuman for a sweet-a-holic like me. Maybe I can give up something else this year. Like pregnancy.
Three Game Controllers
We are currently visiting friends who have a Game Cube. We don't have video games (not on principal, just haven't ever gotten around to it), so needless to say my kids are transfixed. This system happens to have four controllers, so many of the kids can play at once. Except Tony carried one off and we haven't yet uncovered it, so for now we have three.
The kids we are visiting got a new game for Christmas rated T for Teen instead of E for Everyone. When they asked if they could play it I replied that I had to watch for awhile to see how appropriate it was for my younger children. The game is some variation of Super Mario Brothers where the characters beat each other up.
I grew up in the 80s playing some Karate Champ game where "real people" tried to best each other with kicks and hand chops. I loved that game, and at first blush this game fondly reminded me of that one (although I would not now let my younger kids play that one since the people are "real"). But as I generally try to keep the kids away from anything at all blatantly violent, I watched carefully to see how this one would play out.
About three minutes into it I was laughing so hard I almost fell off the couch. The characters are not real people, they are Super Mario cartoon characters ranging from Donkey Kong to some fire breathing turtle thing. There is also a princess that kicks high like a can-can dancer in her ball gown. I watched my sweet Lindsey, the fire breathing turtle, attack my monkey older son and take him down completely. For some reason, this was so incongruously funny to me that I could not stop laughing. When another player, the princess, came and kicked the fire breathing turtle off the flying ship with a swoosh of her ball gown, I almost lost it.
I let the kids play.
When my friend came home I learned that she had asked her husband to return this game because of it's violent nature. Oops. Just goes to show how subjective parenting rules can be, even between families that share the same values.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
On the Second Day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, two dueling dog lovers,
and my health and some sanity.
Yes, you've guessed it, I am going to perform my very own 12 days of Christmas according to what is going on in our family. Today's theme is: DOG!
Until last Christmas, we had a family dog. A 200 pound, stinky, drooly and loveable Mastiff named Pumbaa, to be exact. He died just after Christmas last year of old age and Jay was devastated. We were all sad, but he was really Jay's dog, and so he missed him the most.
In the year since Pumbaa's death there has been some discussion of getting another dog, but I have put it off since having a dog simply adds to the mess and chaos in the house, and I have been enjoying the reprieve. No more fur on the floor, no more shaken drool splotches on the walls means that, especially since we moved into our brand new house in February, I have not been anxious to rectify this dog absence. However, I am slowly losing the battle. The cries are becoming louder and more frequent, and my peace is about to come to an end. It's not a question of if but when and, more relevent to this week, how.
You see, Joey asked Santa for a dog for Christmas. I always advise the children to ask for three things to give Santa some alternatives in case he cannot provide their first choice. Up until now, this has worked like a charm. But this time, my oh-so-clever son decided to stress test the system and ask for a yellow lab, a chocolate lab and a golden retriever for his three things. What is Santa to do? Especially when this is probably the last year of Santa magic for this particular child and this mother knows that she is losing the dog battle anyway? I was ready to give in to my boy who really, really wants a dog to pal around with and play fetch with during his rather lonesome homeschooling breaks while the other children are at school.
But, alas, nothing is ever simple. Jay joins Joey in this overwhelming desire for a dog. But he wants another Mastiff, and for very good reasons. Mastiffs fit our family very well. They are slow moving, not too active, and not destructive. They are patient with children and don't jump up (after a little training, of course). Pumbaa was a fantastic dog that gave us very little trouble and Jay is convinced another Mastiff is best for the family. But there is one big problem: Mastiffs don't play much fetch and for Joey, this is a fatal flaw.
Now, I know that the types of dogs Joey has requested can make excellent family pets, but they are unfamiliar ground to us. Moreoever, they are likely to have a highly active puppy period that I'm not sure we can persevere. An excited jumper, chewer, digger or escape artist is not something I would welcome, and I know from experience that Mastiffs pretty much lay around and snore. So, even with all their disadvantages (drool, odor and size), I am inclined to agree with Jay even as I want to agree with Joey.
As it turns out, it doesn't matter much what I think about this. They two of them have begun to bargain and cajole, doing something that resembles the "Dance of the Duelling Dog Lovers" as I am beginning to mentally refer to it. Joey has some say in the matter since Santa, in a desperate effort to resolve his pickle, brought Joey a dog bowl, collar and leash, along with a letter saying that live animals can't travel in the sleigh, but here is the equipment he will need for the pet that is sure to be forthcoming. So, the battle of the breeds is on.
I suspect the way this is going to resolve itself is by whichever breeder comes up with a puppy first. Whichever dog presents first is sure to be fallen in love with, regardless of breed. So, the breeders have been contacted and the wait for a puppy commences. Which will it be? Who knows?! But just to complicate the situation, we are going to a massive dog show on Saturday so the duelling dog lovers can duke it out in the presence of their favorite breeds.
Should be good, clean family fun, don't you think?
and my health and some sanity.
Yes, you've guessed it, I am going to perform my very own 12 days of Christmas according to what is going on in our family. Today's theme is: DOG!
Until last Christmas, we had a family dog. A 200 pound, stinky, drooly and loveable Mastiff named Pumbaa, to be exact. He died just after Christmas last year of old age and Jay was devastated. We were all sad, but he was really Jay's dog, and so he missed him the most.
In the year since Pumbaa's death there has been some discussion of getting another dog, but I have put it off since having a dog simply adds to the mess and chaos in the house, and I have been enjoying the reprieve. No more fur on the floor, no more shaken drool splotches on the walls means that, especially since we moved into our brand new house in February, I have not been anxious to rectify this dog absence. However, I am slowly losing the battle. The cries are becoming louder and more frequent, and my peace is about to come to an end. It's not a question of if but when and, more relevent to this week, how.
You see, Joey asked Santa for a dog for Christmas. I always advise the children to ask for three things to give Santa some alternatives in case he cannot provide their first choice. Up until now, this has worked like a charm. But this time, my oh-so-clever son decided to stress test the system and ask for a yellow lab, a chocolate lab and a golden retriever for his three things. What is Santa to do? Especially when this is probably the last year of Santa magic for this particular child and this mother knows that she is losing the dog battle anyway? I was ready to give in to my boy who really, really wants a dog to pal around with and play fetch with during his rather lonesome homeschooling breaks while the other children are at school.
But, alas, nothing is ever simple. Jay joins Joey in this overwhelming desire for a dog. But he wants another Mastiff, and for very good reasons. Mastiffs fit our family very well. They are slow moving, not too active, and not destructive. They are patient with children and don't jump up (after a little training, of course). Pumbaa was a fantastic dog that gave us very little trouble and Jay is convinced another Mastiff is best for the family. But there is one big problem: Mastiffs don't play much fetch and for Joey, this is a fatal flaw.
Now, I know that the types of dogs Joey has requested can make excellent family pets, but they are unfamiliar ground to us. Moreoever, they are likely to have a highly active puppy period that I'm not sure we can persevere. An excited jumper, chewer, digger or escape artist is not something I would welcome, and I know from experience that Mastiffs pretty much lay around and snore. So, even with all their disadvantages (drool, odor and size), I am inclined to agree with Jay even as I want to agree with Joey.
As it turns out, it doesn't matter much what I think about this. They two of them have begun to bargain and cajole, doing something that resembles the "Dance of the Duelling Dog Lovers" as I am beginning to mentally refer to it. Joey has some say in the matter since Santa, in a desperate effort to resolve his pickle, brought Joey a dog bowl, collar and leash, along with a letter saying that live animals can't travel in the sleigh, but here is the equipment he will need for the pet that is sure to be forthcoming. So, the battle of the breeds is on.
I suspect the way this is going to resolve itself is by whichever breeder comes up with a puppy first. Whichever dog presents first is sure to be fallen in love with, regardless of breed. So, the breeders have been contacted and the wait for a puppy commences. Which will it be? Who knows?! But just to complicate the situation, we are going to a massive dog show on Saturday so the duelling dog lovers can duke it out in the presence of their favorite breeds.
Should be good, clean family fun, don't you think?
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
On The First Day of Christmas...
...my true love gave to me, my health and some sanity.
Today marks the first of the 12 days of Christmas and, yes, I did receive a wonderful gift. After four days of feeling pretty yucky, I am back! I tend to be generally healthy and shamefully take it for granted, but today, as I accomplished several household tasks for the first time in days without feeling as if I were nearing death's door, I remembered that I should never take a minute of good health for granted.
How much easier it is to get that laundry washed and folded when I am feeling energetic and good! How much more balanced I feel when the house is ordered and clean and I am being proactive rather than reactive!
So, for the first day of Christmas there is no greater gift as far as I'm concerned.
(Oh, and thanks so very much, Jay, for keeping it all together while I was down. You are amazing and I appreciate you so much!)
Today marks the first of the 12 days of Christmas and, yes, I did receive a wonderful gift. After four days of feeling pretty yucky, I am back! I tend to be generally healthy and shamefully take it for granted, but today, as I accomplished several household tasks for the first time in days without feeling as if I were nearing death's door, I remembered that I should never take a minute of good health for granted.
How much easier it is to get that laundry washed and folded when I am feeling energetic and good! How much more balanced I feel when the house is ordered and clean and I am being proactive rather than reactive!
So, for the first day of Christmas there is no greater gift as far as I'm concerned.
(Oh, and thanks so very much, Jay, for keeping it all together while I was down. You are amazing and I appreciate you so much!)
Saturday, December 23, 2006
There Must Be Some Mistake
An error has been made, somehow, somewhere. Because, you see, I am sick. Not the annoying "don't feel so great as I go about my business" sick, but the "haven't been out of bed AT ALL for 36 hours" sick.
And, in case anyone is unaware, Christmas is in 2 days. Mothers, whose families are counting on them for magical Christmas memories and yummy Christmas dinners, are NOT supposed to get sick right now.
I have presents to wrap (and a few left to buy, even!). Groceries to buy. And a scary-messy house to order. I have a choir to sing in. How can this be?
Unless--wait--could this actually BE the plan? Am I supposed to learn something from this? Am I supposed to remember that this holiday isn't about me at all? That it isn't about a perfect roast or a perfect house? That it isn't about me feeling like I pulled it all off and made everyone happy?
Hmm... I'll have to think about that. Later.
And, in case anyone is unaware, Christmas is in 2 days. Mothers, whose families are counting on them for magical Christmas memories and yummy Christmas dinners, are NOT supposed to get sick right now.
I have presents to wrap (and a few left to buy, even!). Groceries to buy. And a scary-messy house to order. I have a choir to sing in. How can this be?
Unless--wait--could this actually BE the plan? Am I supposed to learn something from this? Am I supposed to remember that this holiday isn't about me at all? That it isn't about a perfect roast or a perfect house? That it isn't about me feeling like I pulled it all off and made everyone happy?
Hmm... I'll have to think about that. Later.
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