Sing it, Righteous Brothers, sing it.
I was justthisclose to shutting down the old place this week, but I didn't because I couldn't come up with a good reason other than, "I'm just not feeling the blog anymore."
At first, I blamed Blogger, with it's inconvenient new template and dashboard and it's weird commenting glitches. Some people can't comment at all, even though I have no comment moderation enabled, and some people, who have commented here for years, get shunted to my spam comment folder. I didn't even know I had a spam comment folder. It's annoying.
Then, I figured I was just burnt out with blogging because I've been doing it for a long time. A long, long time. I've just run out of ideas, that's it. But as long as I have kids, I'll always have ideas, am I right?
I thought that maybe my vague feeling of dissatisfaction has to do with my near complete failure to adhere to the healthy eating I had started. Because, really, don't even ask . . . I can't talk about it anymore. The failure is just short of epic.
Maybe it's the 2 year old who has finally just run me into the ground. She is sweet, but holy cow, people. She is constantly undressing herself, including her diaper, which leads to some unpleasant surprises. She is silent as a ninja, she can unlock doors and cabinets, she creeps into my bedroom when Baby is asleep and then climbs into Baby's crib and drops down onto her. She likes to take a running start and leap up onto the kitchen counters (she can climb halfway there already), she can gets her arms out of her car seat straps and partially unbuckle herself. She is tiny, she is strong, she is flexible, and she is inexorable.
In short, there are many days when I am happy to put her in bed for a nap, because the one thing she won't do is climb out of her crib at nap time. I have no idea why, but I ain't looking too hard for the answer if you catch my drift.
I think I'm going through some kind of malaise or maybe it's a springtime torpor, I don't know. Is that even a thing? A Springtime Torpor? Aren't you supposed to be energized and renewed in the spring? All I want to do is sit and read books on my Kindle app. And I was very close to neglecting my children yesterday doing just that.
I looked up "malaise" and "torpor," just to make sure that I had the correct meaning of those words in my head. Malaise: a vague sense of mental or moral ill-being. Torpor: a state of mental or motor inactivity with partial or total insensibility.
I think I found my answer: D) all of the above.
The outside of our house looks like the Beverly Hillbillies, before they moved to Beverly. Our lawn has mostly run to clover and dandelions, so it only looks like grass for about 5 minutes after Rob is done mowing. I just noticed that a recent storm put a hole in our siding, and there are bikes and bats and badminton birdies (just birdies, no rackets, of course) lying all over.
There is also a strange configuration of sticks and stones (the little pagans) and random plastic buckets half filled with water. What is it with kids and buckets of water?
All of the trees are at the point where they desperately need to be pruned by a professional, the problem being that there is no tree professional money in the discretionary budget. Nor is there any "building a lovely screened in porch so we can eat outside without being attacked by wasps" money. Drat.
There are so many things that need to be done -- common, good-housekeeping things that keep the wheels moving around here. I just need to actually do them.
I know the antidote to this torpor is to say a prayer and do just one thing. Just one. I know I'll feel better if I do one thing today, and once I get started I know I'll keep going.
So that means getting off the computer and getting my rear in gear. Happy weekend, my friends, and here's to Just One Thing!
PS: As if I needed anymore confirmation of what I need to do, today is the feast of St. Zita, patron saint of domestic workers and maids. St. Zita who said that "laziness is fake holiness." Zowie! Okay, St. Zita, you've got your work cut out for you. Pray for me!
Friday, April 27, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
"I'm glad we're here together in our nation's capital." **
Or: A disjointed, rambling, slightly salty tale of the efforts of parents with small children to have time away together.
Rob and I enjoyed a little getaway this past weekend. Since we could not take a honeymoon, this is just the second time in our married lives that we've gone on a trip alone together. The last time was 12 years ago, when Francie was a baby and we went to Colonial Williamsburg for a few days.
This June is our 15th anniversary, and we've added 5 more children in the past 12 years, so we figured the time was ripe to try it again. We decided on Washington, DC for this go-'round. Do you think we might be history buffs?
Actually, we wanted a place that was interesting, but also within comfortable driving distance. That way we could maximize our time away while not being too inaccessible in the case of an emergency return.
As the wise Shakespeare once said, "the course of vacation never did run smooth." He did say that, didn't he? Because he totally nailed it.
I divvied up the kids with differentsuckers relatives, because if anyone knows how they can gang up on a person, it's me. Divide and conquer is a good motto if you ever need people to watch a largish brood of tiny Vikings. I also made obsessively long and detailed childcare lists, and Rob made reservations at a hotel down near the monuments.
Then Fiver came home from school with pain in his ear that made him sob all the way home on the bus. This child has not had an ear infection in 7 years. SEVEN. YEARS.
He had no fever and no other complaints aside from the ear, so I called Rob to report the fly in our ointment. He brought home an otoscope to check the fly's ear, which was full of fluid but not infected. Rob suspected allergies were to blame for the fluid and resulting pain, so we got him hopped up on allergy meds and ibuprofen.
We were in that limbo where there was no guarantee that it would not turn into an infection, but also nothing much that could be done at the moment. That's one of the most annoying parental limbos.
He stayed home from school the next day, Thursday, and we were supposed to leave on Friday afternoon. I spent most of the day Thursday going back and forth between cancelling and staying the course. If we didn't cancel by Thursday afternoon, and we didn't end up going after all, then we would still be charged for that room. But I didn't think I could comfortably make that call on Fiver's health until Friday morning.
By Thursday night we had decided to cancel the reservation, but if he felt better and went to school on Friday morning, then we would hop back on the internet and hope that we could make the same reservation all over again.
Long story getting incredibly long, Fiver woke up Friday feeling great. He went off to school and we made our reservation. Again.
We left all the instructions for the kids, had to pry some crying children off of us at the door (never fun), and then hit the road to DC.
Where we promptly sat in traffic which we learned was due to an accident that had shut down the highway. An accident, we came to find out later, that involved a tractor trailer, a van, and a car full of Rob's patients, one of whom was a 3 year old who was airlifted to the hospital. They are all doing well now, thank God.
We finally made it down to DC and checked in, when I got a call from my sister, who was watching the little girls. All I could really hear was my sweet little baby screaming bloody murder. This is the baby who cries once a day, tops, and she was screaming like someone was sticking red hot pokers into her.
I was trying to remember any tips or tricks for soothing her for my poor sister, but she is so low maintenance that I couldn't think of any good ones. And then, as I was wracking my brain, my sister discovered that Mopsy had thrown up. Fan-DANG-tastic.
To my sister's credit, she calmly hung up the phone to deal with everything, but I was done in. I was annoyed, tired, sad that my kids were unhappy and sick, and just not feeling the vacation vibe at all. And I had even packed insensible, frivolous underwear - the kind not made out of six yards of serviceable cotton - so you know I was looking forward to this trip!
Is that too much? Too private? Well good, now you know how I felt when 6 different people came up to me and asked me if we were going on this trip specifically to try for #7. One person even asked if this was our se* weekend (no weird searches, thank you, internet).
Really, folks? Really?! Sheesh! And they say that I should get a hobby . . .
(Although, as Rob said, that's a sweet deal. If we got to go away for a weekend every time I got pregnant we might have about 12 kids right now.)
Rob wanted to check out the monuments lit up at night, and I, in my ungracious pissiness, grabbed my coat and said, "Fine. Whatever. Let's go." Can you see what kind of awesome company I was?
I have to admit that the monuments were beautiful at night; I think I might like them best that way. It was also interesting to see people whose lives in no way resemble mine. People who were out jogging along the Mall at 8:30 at night, or dressed up in sparkly tops and high heels headed down to the Metro station.
The next morning we ate breakfast in the hotel, and then started on our plans for the day. We also got a funny text from my brother, who had Fiver and Sally, telling us that everyone was having a great time, but how did they get our kids to sleep until past 10 in the morning? Hahahahahaha. Ha. Nothing short of drugging them will accomplish that.
We've been to DC enough to know that there is no way we would be able to see or do everything in one day, and we made our peace with that. We settled on the game plan: see the stuff that we always bypass because the kids have no patience to see it or because it is inappropriate.
For us, that meant three things: The National Gallery of Art, The Holocaust Museum, and a movie.
It was a good thing that we kept our sightseeing goals to a minimum because we ended up spending three hours in each museum.
The National Gallery of Art was fantastic, of course. It was wonderful to go from gallery to gallery, finding one treasure of art after another. Rob saw his beloved Dutch masters, I got to see my favorite American landscapes and portraiture, and we were both in love with the Renaissance religious art.
From the NGA, we went to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum. If we hadn't had timed tickets, maybe we should have tried to do the art museum after the Holocaust museum, just to remind ourselves that beauty still exists in the world.
It was easily the most quiet, most devastating and affecting museum I've ever seen. I don't know that I heard anyone speak above a whisper besides the museum guides.
Each floor is a different permanent exhibit, and you start at the top of the museum and work your way down. It is arranged around a central atrium, and you have to cross a glass lined breezeway to get from one part of the exhibit to another.
The light is a welcome change after the darkness of the floor, but it is also a cruel reminder. Each pane of glass in the breezeways is covered with names. One breezeway contains the names of entire towns that vanished during the Holocaust, and another contains the first names of victims. Because our children have very old, Biblical names, I found all of them up on the glass and shuddered.
I know this might sound like a real downer of a day, but it really wasn't. I am glad I got the chance to see it all, despite spending most of the afternoon crying.
Later that night, we went into Georgetown to see The Hunger Games. As Rob darkly quipped, "what's better than following the Holocaust museum with a movie about kids trying to kill each other?" But we had to cram it all in somehow.
The next morning, we had the pleasure of attending Mass at America's Church: the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. It was so nice to sit together during a whole Mass, and we even got to sing in Latin, which makes Rob so happy.
We visited all the chapels of Our Lady, and then hit the bookstore, where we could have easily spent another few hours. But it was time to head home, gather all the chicks, and get them back to the nest.
Of course, they all ended up having a wonderful time in their different locations. Treats were applied liberally, they got completely spoiled by various relatives, and they are already trying to finagle some more "sleep over" time for themselves.
And now I have got to get back into the swing of things. I still have the suitcases sitting out, although at least they are empty, and I have been trying to post this for nearly four days. I am still on vacation time apparently.
We are so, so thankful to GeeGee and Pop, Aunt JuJu, and Uncle JB and Aunt J, who gave up their weekends to our kids while we were away. You guys are the best! In another 12 years, we can just bribe Francie to keep an eye on her siblings for the weekend. I'm sure nothing can go wrong with that plan, right?
PS: Who can name the movie where I got the line for the title?
PS2: It turns out that the baby was crying because she was overtired. My sister put her to bed where she promptly went to sleep and woke up the next morning like a new girl. And Mopsy threw up because she ate too much junk.
Rob and I enjoyed a little getaway this past weekend. Since we could not take a honeymoon, this is just the second time in our married lives that we've gone on a trip alone together. The last time was 12 years ago, when Francie was a baby and we went to Colonial Williamsburg for a few days.
This June is our 15th anniversary, and we've added 5 more children in the past 12 years, so we figured the time was ripe to try it again. We decided on Washington, DC for this go-'round. Do you think we might be history buffs?
Actually, we wanted a place that was interesting, but also within comfortable driving distance. That way we could maximize our time away while not being too inaccessible in the case of an emergency return.
As the wise Shakespeare once said, "the course of vacation never did run smooth." He did say that, didn't he? Because he totally nailed it.
I divvied up the kids with different
Then Fiver came home from school with pain in his ear that made him sob all the way home on the bus. This child has not had an ear infection in 7 years. SEVEN. YEARS.
He had no fever and no other complaints aside from the ear, so I called Rob to report the fly in our ointment. He brought home an otoscope to check the fly's ear, which was full of fluid but not infected. Rob suspected allergies were to blame for the fluid and resulting pain, so we got him hopped up on allergy meds and ibuprofen.
We were in that limbo where there was no guarantee that it would not turn into an infection, but also nothing much that could be done at the moment. That's one of the most annoying parental limbos.
He stayed home from school the next day, Thursday, and we were supposed to leave on Friday afternoon. I spent most of the day Thursday going back and forth between cancelling and staying the course. If we didn't cancel by Thursday afternoon, and we didn't end up going after all, then we would still be charged for that room. But I didn't think I could comfortably make that call on Fiver's health until Friday morning.
By Thursday night we had decided to cancel the reservation, but if he felt better and went to school on Friday morning, then we would hop back on the internet and hope that we could make the same reservation all over again.
Long story getting incredibly long, Fiver woke up Friday feeling great. He went off to school and we made our reservation. Again.
We left all the instructions for the kids, had to pry some crying children off of us at the door (never fun), and then hit the road to DC.
Where we promptly sat in traffic which we learned was due to an accident that had shut down the highway. An accident, we came to find out later, that involved a tractor trailer, a van, and a car full of Rob's patients, one of whom was a 3 year old who was airlifted to the hospital. They are all doing well now, thank God.
We finally made it down to DC and checked in, when I got a call from my sister, who was watching the little girls. All I could really hear was my sweet little baby screaming bloody murder. This is the baby who cries once a day, tops, and she was screaming like someone was sticking red hot pokers into her.
I was trying to remember any tips or tricks for soothing her for my poor sister, but she is so low maintenance that I couldn't think of any good ones. And then, as I was wracking my brain, my sister discovered that Mopsy had thrown up. Fan-DANG-tastic.
To my sister's credit, she calmly hung up the phone to deal with everything, but I was done in. I was annoyed, tired, sad that my kids were unhappy and sick, and just not feeling the vacation vibe at all. And I had even packed insensible, frivolous underwear - the kind not made out of six yards of serviceable cotton - so you know I was looking forward to this trip!
Is that too much? Too private? Well good, now you know how I felt when 6 different people came up to me and asked me if we were going on this trip specifically to try for #7. One person even asked if this was our se* weekend (no weird searches, thank you, internet).
Really, folks? Really?! Sheesh! And they say that I should get a hobby . . .
(Although, as Rob said, that's a sweet deal. If we got to go away for a weekend every time I got pregnant we might have about 12 kids right now.)
Rob wanted to check out the monuments lit up at night, and I, in my ungracious pissiness, grabbed my coat and said, "Fine. Whatever. Let's go." Can you see what kind of awesome company I was?
I have to admit that the monuments were beautiful at night; I think I might like them best that way. It was also interesting to see people whose lives in no way resemble mine. People who were out jogging along the Mall at 8:30 at night, or dressed up in sparkly tops and high heels headed down to the Metro station.
The next morning we ate breakfast in the hotel, and then started on our plans for the day. We also got a funny text from my brother, who had Fiver and Sally, telling us that everyone was having a great time, but how did they get our kids to sleep until past 10 in the morning? Hahahahahaha. Ha. Nothing short of drugging them will accomplish that.
We've been to DC enough to know that there is no way we would be able to see or do everything in one day, and we made our peace with that. We settled on the game plan: see the stuff that we always bypass because the kids have no patience to see it or because it is inappropriate.
For us, that meant three things: The National Gallery of Art, The Holocaust Museum, and a movie.
It was a good thing that we kept our sightseeing goals to a minimum because we ended up spending three hours in each museum.
The National Gallery of Art was fantastic, of course. It was wonderful to go from gallery to gallery, finding one treasure of art after another. Rob saw his beloved Dutch masters, I got to see my favorite American landscapes and portraiture, and we were both in love with the Renaissance religious art.
From the NGA, we went to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum. If we hadn't had timed tickets, maybe we should have tried to do the art museum after the Holocaust museum, just to remind ourselves that beauty still exists in the world.
It was easily the most quiet, most devastating and affecting museum I've ever seen. I don't know that I heard anyone speak above a whisper besides the museum guides.
Each floor is a different permanent exhibit, and you start at the top of the museum and work your way down. It is arranged around a central atrium, and you have to cross a glass lined breezeway to get from one part of the exhibit to another.
The light is a welcome change after the darkness of the floor, but it is also a cruel reminder. Each pane of glass in the breezeways is covered with names. One breezeway contains the names of entire towns that vanished during the Holocaust, and another contains the first names of victims. Because our children have very old, Biblical names, I found all of them up on the glass and shuddered.
I know this might sound like a real downer of a day, but it really wasn't. I am glad I got the chance to see it all, despite spending most of the afternoon crying.
Later that night, we went into Georgetown to see The Hunger Games. As Rob darkly quipped, "what's better than following the Holocaust museum with a movie about kids trying to kill each other?" But we had to cram it all in somehow.
The next morning, we had the pleasure of attending Mass at America's Church: the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. It was so nice to sit together during a whole Mass, and we even got to sing in Latin, which makes Rob so happy.
We visited all the chapels of Our Lady, and then hit the bookstore, where we could have easily spent another few hours. But it was time to head home, gather all the chicks, and get them back to the nest.
Of course, they all ended up having a wonderful time in their different locations. Treats were applied liberally, they got completely spoiled by various relatives, and they are already trying to finagle some more "sleep over" time for themselves.
And now I have got to get back into the swing of things. I still have the suitcases sitting out, although at least they are empty, and I have been trying to post this for nearly four days. I am still on vacation time apparently.
We are so, so thankful to GeeGee and Pop, Aunt JuJu, and Uncle JB and Aunt J, who gave up their weekends to our kids while we were away. You guys are the best! In another 12 years, we can just bribe Francie to keep an eye on her siblings for the weekend. I'm sure nothing can go wrong with that plan, right?
PS: Who can name the movie where I got the line for the title?
PS2: It turns out that the baby was crying because she was overtired. My sister put her to bed where she promptly went to sleep and woke up the next morning like a new girl. And Mopsy threw up because she ate too much junk.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
The Wayback Kid
Sometimes I think Bun was born about 70 years too late.
Oh, I know he was born exactly when God wanted him to be born, and I am so thankful for that. If he was born 70 years ago, I wouldn't have the privilege of being his mother and thinking about that kind of breaks my heart. If he was born 70 years ago, there would have been no NICU to keep him alive, and who knows what would have become of him. Maybe they would have put him in a shoebox and made out his death certificate like they did for my premature grandmother.
Obviously, she didn't take the doctor up that death certificate seeing as I'm here on this earth and all.
 |
| Bun thinks his Dad hung the moon. So do I. |
All that aside, I still tend to think of Bun as an old fashioned kind of kid. I don't know why, since I know a lot of kids who enjoy old fashioned games and pursuits, but there is something about him that is old school.
He's the kind of kid that a lot of older people call a "boy's boy." I think that is a very polite way of saying that Bun is mostly the embodiment of noise with dirt on it. His resemblance to Dennis the Menace is not unwarranted - right down to that white-blond cowlick on the back of his head.
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| Replace those six shooters with light sabers and you've got a pretty good picture of Bun on any given day. |
Anyone who has read here for longer than two days has probably realized his love for baseball, especially his Phillies. Baseball, more than any other sport, has captivated him. He loves America's Game. He memorizes the numbers of his favorite players, he roots for the home team even if they lose (but man does it bug him when they do!), and he likes to sneak down past bedtime and watch a couple innings with us during the season.
 |
| He was not exactly charmed by the idea of wearing a newsboy cap. From the look on his face, you would think that hat was filled with some kind of stinging insect. But he loves his mother and he wore it for a total of 5 minutes on Easter Sunday. That's about 4 more minutes than I thought I'd get. |
Throw him outside with a bike and he'll be a happy camper for the rest of the day. Or better yet, challenge him to a game of hide and seek, tag, or "good guys and bad guys." (He usually opts to be the bad guy - should I worry?)
Give him rocks, sticks, and dirt. And if you up the ante and let him add water into all that outdoor play? Well, you have a best friend for life.
He has become as spoiled as his mother with the satellite radio in the van (not an old fashioned thing at all, I know), but he will beg me to listen to the '50s on 5 or '60s on 6 stations. And if they play Otis Redding or Sam Cooke? Forget about trying to listen to anything else. That's his jam.
He's our little Wayback Kid, and I love him. Even after he cut all the heads off of my tulips with a play sword. Sigh.
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| That twinkle in his eye spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E. |
Sunday, April 08, 2012
Easter Joy
Happy Easter from the HomeFront!
May you and yours be blessed!
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| from left to right: Mopsy, Francie, Bun, Fiver, Baby, and Sally |
Saturday, April 07, 2012
This is the Night
 |
| The Risen Christ Appearing to Mary Magdalen by Rembrandt |
"This is the night, which it is written: The night shall be bright as day, dazzling is the night for me, and full of gladness. The sanctifying power of this night dispels wickedness, washes fault away, restores lost innocence to the fallen, and joy to mourners, drives out hatred, fosters concord and brings down the mighty. . . . Oh truly blessed night, when things of heaven are wed to those of earth, and divine to the human." (from the Easter Vigil Exsultet)
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Spy Wednesday
I'm at the start of some intense prep time around these parts. My lists are all made, my calendar is full, and it's time to do the heavy lifting.
I think I've gotten our Easter wardrobes in order, just in the nick of time. Rob bought a new suit yesterday, after I told him that he was not to come home without one. Shopping is a form of torture for him, but a new suit was a necessity. He's been working with his old suit for many years, and it was time to release it. I offered to go out and just buy one for him, to spare him the shopping, but he wanted to try it on himself.
On the other hand, shopping is not so much torture for me as a near occasion of sin. Gluttony and Envy come to mind specifically. I love to buy cute clothes for the kids and myself, so I need to watch what I am doing very carefully.
I have worn maternity clothes for the past two Easters and I was itching to wear something with an actual size printed on the label and no elastic band around the middle. Luckily, I found some great sales, and I was able to get myself two new dresses, and two pairs of shoes which will carry me through any dressy occasions this spring and summer (and the next and the next . . . ).
Today is the last day that I will do any major Easter shopping (barring any milk/bread runs on Holy Saturday morning), so that means the candy store! We always go to a local chocolatier for our Easter chocolates because a) I like supporting local businesses, b) it's the same store where my parents got our candy, so tradition!, and c) YUM! It is more expensive, but we don't buy very much and the smell of the shop alone is worth the price.
The days coming up are busy and solemn, so if I doubt I will post again before Easter. Until then, have a blessed Holy Week. I'll see you after the Resurrection!
I think I've gotten our Easter wardrobes in order, just in the nick of time. Rob bought a new suit yesterday, after I told him that he was not to come home without one. Shopping is a form of torture for him, but a new suit was a necessity. He's been working with his old suit for many years, and it was time to release it. I offered to go out and just buy one for him, to spare him the shopping, but he wanted to try it on himself.
On the other hand, shopping is not so much torture for me as a near occasion of sin. Gluttony and Envy come to mind specifically. I love to buy cute clothes for the kids and myself, so I need to watch what I am doing very carefully.
I have worn maternity clothes for the past two Easters and I was itching to wear something with an actual size printed on the label and no elastic band around the middle. Luckily, I found some great sales, and I was able to get myself two new dresses, and two pairs of shoes which will carry me through any dressy occasions this spring and summer (and the next and the next . . . ).
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| So cute! Don't these just scream "good weather, fun times ahead!"? And they are so comfy. |
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| This is SO not the kind of shoe I usually buy, but believe it or not, they feel fantastic on my feet. And they go with my dresses perfectly, and they were 40% off, and I had a coupon. They couldn't be more perfect if they were chanting my name in the store. |
Today is the last day that I will do any major Easter shopping (barring any milk/bread runs on Holy Saturday morning), so that means the candy store! We always go to a local chocolatier for our Easter chocolates because a) I like supporting local businesses, b) it's the same store where my parents got our candy, so tradition!, and c) YUM! It is more expensive, but we don't buy very much and the smell of the shop alone is worth the price.
The days coming up are busy and solemn, so if I doubt I will post again before Easter. Until then, have a blessed Holy Week. I'll see you after the Resurrection!
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