Lentish

Our internet service is still sketchy, but the reports of the death of our modem were greatly exaggerated.

After a bit of back and forth with our internet company, it turns out that it is not our much maligned modem's fault at all.  It is actually a problem with our phone service provider and some special part that has to do with internet connectivity (like my industry buzzword?).  A problem that they have been trying to fix for three weeks without any kind of success and for which they have no estimated date of success.

So while the phone folks are huddled in their remote think tank, us locals are frequently dumped off the internet without warning.  It is very random and very annoying.

And it just happened again, for crying out loud.  Auto-save is my best friend these days.

All of this is, of course, completely first world and suitably Lenten.  It can a be a very good thing for all my internet browsing and coveting to be abruptly curtailed.  I've had a lot of rambling comments, whiny Facebook updates, and Pinterest pins get cut off mercilessly, and I'm sure it's better that way.  For the state of my soul and the world at large.

So far, my Lent has been  . . . interesting.  I'm definitely more in tune with the season this year.  Last year, I was hugely pregnant and just trying not to go off the deep end.  In my perpetually agitated state, I seemed to feel like my entire existence was a sacrifice, so I didn't over think Lent.

This year, though, it's back to the grindstone, but in a good way.  I have given up some things that have been harder for me to release than I thought, and I have been struggling with some ugly feelings lately.

I've been feeling, for a long time really, that I just want to get away for a little while and take a break.  Get myself some of that ubiquitous "me" time that makes everyone a better person.  It seems like a lot of my friends have done that recently and it has really refreshed and energized them.

But for me and for my family, the truth is that I really need to put up and shut up right now.

One of the things that I love about the blogging company I keep is the tendency for all of us to offer words of encouragement to one another.  Most of us don't like to see a mom beating herself up about the job she's doing.

But let's be honest:  we know when we haven't handed in our best work.  We usually realize that we deserved that C even if our friends are telling us that a C really isn't so bad.   Lent is supposed to hold the magnifying glass to the squirmy parts of your life in the fervent hope that you'll do everything you can to make them better.  

So, all those times when I get annoyed with the kids and the house and then I have to admit it's because of a marked lack of preparation and effort on my part?  Yeah, that's when I need to own that C.

I know I will get to take a break sometime, but not now.  Lent is the time for dirty work.

(But let's be clear, when it's finally time for some cutting loose, girlfriend here is going to be so ready.)

{p,h,f,r}: The St. Valentine's Day Edition

Our modem is dying the slow, lingering death of a very old piece of computer equipment.  Until we get a new one, I have to coddle this one, and I still get dumped off the internet quite frequently.   Usually when I'm right in the middle of something that has no auto-save feature, like photo uploading. Fun!

Starting over from scratch gets tiresome, but I do get to do my delightful "laying of hands on the modem" ceremony.  In a very scientific manner, I jiggle cords and  move antennae and then turn the modem on and off for a specific amount of time.  Then I hold my breath and pray that it all comes back and I haven't killed it dead.

I better just put up these pictures for {p,h,f,r} and get on with it, because this modem is on borrowed time, my friends.

I know a lot of people who are not very Valentine's Day friendly, who just see it as a massive marketing scam, and I can see their point.

I get that, but we also have fun on Valentine's Day.  Why not?  We know we love each other all the time, so let's do it up right!

Besides, I am a sucker for those gluey paper doily hearts from the kids.

Fiver is more than slightly obsessed with Angry Birds.  His shirt says, "I'm The Bomb."  Indeed.
(And I love how Mopsy feels the need to get in on the technology with her brother's DSi.)

My Bun, he is a little heart breaker.  Especially when he tells me, "I don't really have time for a hug today, Mom.  I'm four now." Gah.

I feel like Sally has grown overnight.  I am hardly recognizing the child behind all the changes, but that smile is still the same.

The GIRLS!
Mopsy's outfit is size 24 months and Baby's is 12 months, but she could have fit into an 18 months just fine.  Pretty soon, they'll be in the same size and all my clothes hoarding will be for naught!

The Mopster (again with the DSi).
I was worried that I don't have that many pictures of Mopsy compared with the others,  and I should take more of just her.  And then when I put them up here, I realized that she wormed her way into almost every picture!
Mopsy, like Nature, hates a vacuum.

Now this just cracks me.
Down those stairs is the playroom, and when all the kids are down there, Baby lays at the top by the gate and watches them.  She even puts her face right up to the gate and tries to stick her hands through.  It's like reverse jail.

A St. Valentine's Day Craft. Gasp.

Fiver and Sally and I worked on their classroom valentines this weekend.  While they painstakingly wrote their classmates' names on a pile of cards, I helped them make a little gift for each of their friends.

Yes, I got crafty.  You may pick up your jaw now.  (And really, it's not so much the crafts I mind, as the mess left behind.)

I saw the idea for remaking crayons out on the internet a couple of years ago and thought it looked fun, but Pinterest jogged my memory and I knew we could do this.

All you need are unwrapped, broken crayons and a baking tin you don't mind donating to the cause of crafting.

Well, I am about hip deep in broken crayons at all times thanks to the ham-fisted grip that Bun and Mopsy use.  Those kids punish crayons big time.  They are also crayon snobs, so Crayola loves me a lot.

You start by taking the wrappers off your broken crayons.  Do yourself a favor and cut them with a utility knife first.  It makes it so much easier to get the wrapper off when it is cut first, especially Crayola crayons.  They use some kind of glue invented for the space shuttle.

(Actually, I should know what they use, since I live 15 minutes away from the Crayola factory and we've been there on quite a few field trips.)

Anyway, this is what you get:

Naked, broken crayons.  Also known as: what I find in pockets destined for the dryer.

Use any kind of oven safe, shaped container and pile in the broken crayons.  I used an old mini muffin tin, although it would have been so cute to use a heart shaped tin.  I did not have one, nor was I searching around to buy one, so round crayons it is!

Make sure you do a nice color mix if you want a tie-dyed effect.  I really liked the way bright pink, lavender, yellow, and and little bit of white turned out.

I love that pinky-purply one in the middle.

 I checked them frequently, but it took about 20 minutes in the oven for all the pieces to melt completely.  I let them cool on the back deck, which didn't take long considering it was 20 degrees outside.

They easily popped out of the pan, and this is what we were left with:

A stack of rainbow crayons.  I think I should make sure I tell the kindergarteners NOT to eat them - even though they are non-toxic.

Tonight,  I'll just pop one of these in a baggie with a valentine and send them off to school in the morning.

{p,h,f,r}: The Contentment Edition

I have been linking up with {p,h,f,r} for a while, but I don't know that I ever included the tag line given to  the meme by Like Mother, Like Daughter.   

I think it was because I could never get the link button to work properly, but the purpose of {p,h,f,r} is to capture the context of contentment in everyday life.  It's a perspective that's easy to lose, at least for me, I'm afraid.

I've mentioned before that I've been going from room to room decluttering, reorganizing, and generally being ruthless about our possessions.  The kids tremble a little, but they haven't complained, which only reinforces my belief that we've had too much crap from the beginning.  

I joke that I want the house to be decorated in Shaker Chic, but it's only a partial joke.  There is something so calming about paring down.  

For so long, I bought things because I was sold on the notion that a well-appointed home just had to have it, especially if a good friend recommended it.  Boy, is that a good way to get exhausted, disappointed, and flat broke.

It wasn't so much a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses kind of attitude as a kind of mindless consumerism.  I ended up with a collection of a whole bunch of stuff that I didn't need or didn't even like very much.  

I started realizing that the homes I was most drawn to were the homes of fastidious senior citizens. There was a beauty in the simplicity of a simple set of sugar bowl and salt and pepper shakers on the weathered kitchen table that spoke to me more clearly than the four different sugar bowls I had crowding my hutch and which I never used.

Hence, the purge, and I am rediscovering the little things I really love about my home.

(**also, I have put myself on a visual ban from HGTV, Pottery Barn Kids catalogs, Restoration Hardware, and the like.  They give lots of people great ideas, but they give me unrealistic expectations of how my home should look and function.  I have 6 children, so my "nice" things are very different from the "nice" things shown in magazines.  And I am totally good with that.)

The middle girls' room.  This picture makes it look very green, but it is actually a lighter apple green.   There is just something about a white wrought iron bed that I love.

I love the light that comes in their window.  Plus, they get the best view in the house, overlooking the lovely woods.

Their Blessed Mother night light.  It's always a good idea to have your Mother watching over you.

My pretty pink cake plate filled with muffins.  No other centerpiece needed.
(Also - this picture was taken at 9 this morning and the muffins are long gone.)

Fiver's Lima bean plant from school that has survived all the odds of being placed in the home of a black thumb gardener.

My salt cellar that hangs on the wall above the stove.  Functional and pretty  . . . and from Pottery Barn.   

Looking at snow but thinking about Spring.  Pitchers and catchers report soon!  

My mantle.  I'm no great shakes decorator, but I do like what I arranged up there for the winter.
And I also made that "love" sign with my own non-crafty hands.

Framed art from Francie, circa preschool.  I fell in love with her rendering of a city at night the first time I saw it, and although I am notorious for tossing the kids' art projects, I am so glad I saved this one.  I have at least one piece from each of the kids that I have used as art around the house.  (Or I will, once I find some more frames.)

A dresser that has been repurposed as a hutch in the dining room.  All the craft supplies are in the right hand side drawers, and the left hand side drawers are full of the kids dishes so that they can help themselves.

And speaking of contentment . . .  I should sit at the feet of the master.  She's perpetually happy with pretty much everything.  Doll baby.

Super Sunday

I am not a big fan of the Super Bowl (which I just typed as "Supper Bowl" - yum!).  There is just too much hype about one game, and by the time they finish the weeks of pre-game mania I'm so sick of hearing about it that I don't want to watch the game.

But . . . this year it's a rematch of Rob's beloved Giants and the Patriots, so I think we'll be watching.  Downton Abbey will just have to wait.

The only reason I know it's a rematch is because when they met four years ago, I had just come home from the hospital after having Bun and leaving him there in the NICU.  I was so tired and sad that I fell asleep before the game started, but I knew Rob was watching in the background.

I can clearly remember towards the end of the game, when Rob was shaking his head because he couldn't believe the Giants might pull it out against an undefeated team.   And then he held on to my shoulder while he whisper-yelled, "The Giants win the Super Bowl! The Giants win the Super Bowl!"

It's actually a very nice memory for the both of us, and one we joke about now.  We'll see if the Giants can do it one more time.

We are also celebrating Bun's birthday with my family, and it may come as no surprise that he requested a cake with his favorite team.  What can I say, the kid's a baseball boy.

I'm not good at icing cakes, but luckily they taste good.  Rob, on the other hand, is artistic and he free-handed the Phillies logo.

The boys will be wearing their lucky sweatshirts.  I don't know if they are really lucky, but the boys have worn them for all the Sundays during the playoffs, when Rob was sure that the Giants were probably not going to make it the Super Bowl, and the G-men pulled through.  It can't hurt, right?

Could you surprise them one more time, Giants?

But Colleen, you will be happy to learn that we have one of yours in our midst.  Francie has decided to root for the Patriots, because, as she says, "I am a patriot myself, and New England is one of my favorite regions to learn about in history, so I'll root for the Patriots to win."  We thought about shipping her up to you so she could be with her people.

Hopefully it will be a good game, but I still can't wait to get back to the Abbey and find out what's going on with my below-stairs peeps.

{p,f,h,r}: The Yes, Sir, That's My Baby Edition

Just one picture today, my friends, but an exclusive one.  

Very rarely does it happen that a friend stops you at an event, points a camera in your face, says "Say Cheese!", snaps the picture, and then returns a halfway decent picture to you a few months later.

At least, that very rarely happens to me.  Usually, the candid pictures that friends take of me never surface and I can only assume that my dear friends, who love me, saw the terrible photo and vowed to never let it see the light of day.  For which I am eternally grateful.

But this one I do love, mostly for dear Baby's expression.  People have gone to the gallows with more humorous expressions.  She must be perfecting her poker face.

I also love this one because it is the only picture of Baby and me in existence.  I don't even have a picture of the two of us at her birth.  Pretty sad, I think.

I'm not trying to bring you down with my issues, just being {real}.  I know worrying about appearances is  nothing when compared to the real problems of the world.  But still . . .

How have I reached a point where I hate pictures of myself so much that I have only one example of how incredibly happy my wee hen makes me?  I don't know when that happened.

I love my kids with every cell in my body; I love my life and I am grateful for it; and I love that God has given me the gift of a body that has capably grown six amazing people.

I may not love the way I look, but I respect my body for all it does.  And I want more pictures like this.

The Fantastic Four(th)

  

You are joyful . . .

mischievous . . .

funny . . .

mercurial . . .

sweet . . .

energetic . . .

endearing . . .

and you are easily our favorite four year old boy.  

You are the brightest spot in our long winter.

Happy birthday, Bun.  We love you!

Your future's so bright,  you needed bili-light shades in the NICU

Those eyes! Those ears! Those jowls!

What you talkin' 'bout, Daddy?

Although you were a good sleeper, you woke up the night the Phillies won the World Series, just in time for the last out.  You've loved those Phils since the beginning. 

The bluest eyes

First birthday!

Cheeeeeese!

Where did all these golden curls go?

Mary Tyler Moore isn't the only one who can turn the world on with a smile.

My only blond baby.

The man of a thousand faces.

Happy birthday, my baseball boy.

Mission Accomplished

That number "1" underneath her phys. ed. grade is the comment code for "displays positive attitude." 

Well, my friends, she did it.  She met her own goal.

Francie brought home Principal's Honors on her report card for the second quarter.  Her grade point average was exactly the same as the first quarter, but there was a big difference.

Can you see it up there?  Under "Physical Education?"

She turned that "S" into an "O."  Satisfactory to outstanding.  She spoke with her teacher, she adjusted her attitude, she set a new goal, and she went to work.

And I am more proud of that than anything else.

7 Quick Takes

One

I've discovered that the palm of Baby's hand is the most ticklish part of her body.  All my kids' palms have been ticklish, but Baby's the most ticklish, hands down. (Ba-dum-bum. Thanks, I'll be here all day.)  Whenever I want to hear her gurgly belly laugh, I tickle her palm.   If you have a baby at home, try tickling his or her palm.  Is it just my kids or is it funny to all babies?

Two

Speaking of Baby, she's been awfully busy with her milestones.

A couple of weeks ago, I had mentioned to her doctor that I was surprised she wasn't sitting up on her own yet.  She was 7 months at the time, and she showed no inclination to sit.

Usually I feel pretty laid back about the time frame for developmental milestones, but the sitting up gets me.  I think it's because it was one of the major developmental problems that we missed with Fiver.  He didn't sit up alone until he was 11 months old.   Baby wasn't that old, but it still made me kind of twitchy for some reason.

Well, all that twitching was for naught.  In the space of ten days, Baby decided to sit up, crawl, and start to pull up on furniture.   She is everywhere.

I'm telling you, it's feast or famine in all things over here.

Three

We are undergoing another great room swap with the girls, and it all makes me slightly twitchy until the dust settles.

We pair the girls up mostly according to sleep patterns as opposed to age.  Mopsy is the lightest sleeper on the face of the earth.  A feather can hit the floor and her eyes will pop open.  People who have slept in a room with her regularly report back that she wakes at all kinds of odd hours, talks to herself for a little while and then eventually drifts back to sleep.

Knowing that, we moved Sally in with Mopsy.  Sally could sleep through the apocalypse, which is handy when Mopsy wakes up at dawn and yells for her sister from her crib.

That leaves Francie and Baby as roommates.  I don't think Francie is all that excited about sharing with Baby, but it's what we've got.  On one hand, Baby can't get into Francie's stuff yet.  On the other hand, Baby goes to bed at 6:30 at night, effectively barring Francie from her room until she goes up to sleep.

Oh well, at least she gets the room to herself for a short time since Baby is staying with us until we get things switched around.  And knowing the glacial way things move around here, she may get her own room for a little longer than she anticipated.

The boys, God bless 'em, are going nowhere.  They are stuck with each other for the long haul, but their sleep patterns are perfectly suited to each other.

They did ask me to consider a new coat of paint for their room, and I will.  They also asked that I consider orange with green stripes for the new paint in their room, and I will absolutely not.

Four

For those of you with larger families, I put this question to you:  Does everyone in your home have a dresser or set of drawers of their own in their room?

We have to be fairly creative with clothing storage, which means people share dressers and closets.  And those shared dressers and closets are not necessarily in the room in which they sleep.  It's like an adventure, right?!

Besides, their clothes are small and we don't have the room (or cash money) for another dresser.  Sharing makes sense.  And it's GREEN! Don't forget the planet! (How could we?)

But my kids tend to be disbelieving when I tell them that tons of other people do this.  It bothers certain people more than others, but I have no sympathy since I don't have a dresser at all.

Five

I have joined Pinterest and I find it . . . interesting.

I won't say I've become completely addicted, I just don't think I have the time for that.  But I do like that I have one place to stash all the cool things I see on the internet but can never seem to find twice.

I also feel a real sense of kindred spirit-ness with people when I see that they like the same things I like or they have re-pinned something from one of my boards.   I am so weird, and it's nice to know that there are people out there who are similar in their weirdness.

Six

Sally got to see the new dentist at the office for her cleaning and checkup, and when she was finished he came out to talk with me.  He was cute as a button and looked to be about 2.5 days out of dental school.  He very kindly and earnestly told me that Sally is a sweet kid, her teeth look great, but we need to really discourage her thumb-sucking because it's ruining her bite.

He said, "She's a great kid, I'm sure she'll do whatever you tell her to do."

Yep.  That'll be the day.

Then he said, "If she doesn't stop, then we'll look into some behavioral therapy for her."

Yep.  That'll be the day.

I tried so hard not to laugh, mostly because he was so sweet, but behavioral therapy?  No thanks.  Not everyone in this world needs some kind of therapy.

It was one of those times where I was acutely happy that Sally is not my first child and I am not a 23 year old mother anymore.  It's takes a lot for me to feel pushed around about my parenting style these days.  I'm not saying I've got it all figured out, but I have definitely realized that no one else does either!

Rob and I had a good chuckle over it, and we have now taken to offering each other behavioral therapy if deemed necessary.  Funny thing is, we are probably the ones who need it!

Seven

A certain almost-4 year old found the camera feature on my iPod.  He shot 145 pictures of himself.

This kid cracks me up so hard.

Happy weekend, my friends!

Late Middle and Little Little: The Sisters

"Sisters, Sisters,

There were never such devoted sisters . . ."

Mopsy:  Hey, Sissy, come sit with me.  No, no,  don't leave.  Let me hold on to your arm, just in case you get any bright ideas about making a break for it.

Baby:  Uh, Mom?  I am feeling extraordinarily uneasy about this situation.

Baby:  Still not feeling real great about this.  She's really holding on pretty tight.

Mopsy: Look, I'll let go a little bit.  See?  you are totally free to move around.
Baby:  Uh, okay . . .

Mopsy:  Hang on there, chick.  You ain't that free to move around.

Mopsy:  I'll give you FIVE little reasons to stay on this sofa with me.  Bam.
Baby:  Mom, are watching this?  Are you just going to take pictures or are you going to step in?

Mopsy:  There, see?  We've reached a happy medium.
Baby: Sure, fine, whatever.

Oh, my girls.  They crack me up.

And don't worry about Baby.  She more than holds her own against the very hands-on love of Mopsy.  She's got teeth, she loves to pull hair, and she is nearly the same size.  That evens the playing field quite a bit.

{p,h,f,r}: the purging edition

I am late to the {p,h,f,r} party, but it was still Thursday when I started this, so I think it's all good.

January always makes me want to purge the house and start fresh.  I think it has a lot to do with putting all the Christmas decorations away and trying to get more streamlined.  There's something about hauling a giant tree out of the middle of your living room that makes you feel like your house has doubled in size.

Of course that illusion is shattered about five minutes after the tree hits the curb and I realize that approximately 754 new toys need a home, but it's nice while it lasts.

A friend of mine, who is a professional organizer, started a 6 week clutter clean up challenge on Facebook.  Since I am practically wallowing in clutter, I joined up.  Space is at premium around here and I need to make sure I am using every bit wisely.

I admit that I haven't been able to keep up with each assignment as she has posted them, but I do manage to get to them eventually.

So, some very {real} before and after photos:

The closet in Mopsy and Sally's room.  Most of this stuff belongs to neither Mopsy or Sally, so what is it doing in their closet?  Plus, this is apparently where all the hangers in this house go to die.  

I had a very cute "helper."

Here is the finished product.  I was able to sort out three bags of clothes to be donated.   Neatness is so pretty.

This was the terrible state of my hall closet.  Its location in the house makes it ideal for housing the cleaning supplies and extra paper goods, but the disorganization negated all that convenience.

Much better now; I can feel myself starting to breathe again!  I'm not sure if the picture above this one conveys how messy this closet was, but consider this: when I sent Fiver to get a roll of paper towels after I cleaned the closet, he came back saying he couldn't find any.  Knowing that we had some, I said, "Really?  You didn't see any on the shelf?"  He said, "Oh, I didn't know they went on the shelf!  I was only looking on the floor."  Sheesh.

Messy boys' room closet.

After!  I even managed to empty that dresser out for Baby's clothes.   Around here we like to play a game called "Guess which room your clothes are in!,"  since not everyone gets their own dresser in their own room.

This was just a start, but I feel better already knowing that these closets are finished.  It gives me a little confidence before I consider tackling the storage room.  Shudder.