Andie's Corner

I couldn't agree more...

2012-01-28T08:58:00.000-06:00

Potato, Pototo; Tomato, Tomoto

2012-01-28T08:22:00.003-06:00

Joseph: Hey! Lukey stole one of my chips!

Lukey: I didn't steal it -- I'm sharing.

Growing in Humility...thanks to my children

2012-01-22T09:50:00.011-06:00

As is my habit, when we entered church this morning, I prayed that my kids would not embarrass me. Of course, I recognize that for what it is: pride. And as is God's habit, when I ask for something, God usually provides the vice for me so that I can practice the virtue; in this case: humility.

My prayer was answered in the way that I had hoped...at least for the first 55 minutes of Mass. All of the kids were relative angels right up until the second collection when Kraig offered each of the kids $1 to put into the basket. We give to the church via electronic transfer so, to their credit, our children haven't really had a good example of proper church basket etiquette.

Joseph initially pocketed his dollar, until I gave him "the mom look." He responded, "What? I'm just putting it there for safekeeping until the basket comes." Then when the basket did come around, he held onto it much like Gollum held onto the Ring, until I forcibly held his hand over the basket wherein the dollar was dropped.

The basket was then passed to Luke. Luke didn't want to let go of his dollar either. I told him a couple of times to put his dollar in. He just kept staring at all the money in the basket. I was getting anxious. It's really bad form to hold onto the collection basket that long. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the people behind us seemed to be getting fidgety.

Finally I tried to take the dollar from Luke so that I could put it in for him. I didn't realize how tight he was holding onto it and the dollar may have ripped just a teeny tiny bit in the attempted exchange. At this he started to scream. Loudly.

I quickly passed the basket to the people behind us and carried Luke to the back of the church. I took him to the basket where the ushers had just finished consolidating all the money that other people had freely given. I told Luke he had another chance to put in his dollar. But Luke, being Luke, whipped his dollar onto the floor and yelled at the top of his lungs, "YOU RIPPED IT! YOU BROKE MY DOLLAR!" And then came the crying. Loud crying.

My mortified self quickly picked up the discarded money, put it in the basket, and speed-walked outside the church where it was a crisp 15 degrees in the vestibule. I think the cold served to calm down my little currency perfectionist so I walked back in. But when I did, the crying resumed. I somehow wrestled his coat on him, skipping the zipper, hat and mittens and ran toward the refuge of the van.

Taking note of the flailing, screaming child in my arms as I walked out, our priest noted that someone didn't look happy. Walking right behind us, my husband asked Father if he would like to babysit today to which he smiled and replied, "I'm busy today." Huh, go figure.

Seeing Things

2011-05-16T08:00:00.002-05:00

Lately Luke has been talking about seeing ghosts. Usually I just pass it off as three year old imagination, however, during one of these conversations, I asked him what color the ghost was. He said it was "back". Translation: black. In an effort to confirm it was his imagination, I asked him if it was blue, green, or orange, but he refused to say anything other than black. So being home alone that weekend, I was a little spooked out.

Then the next day, as he was swinging at the park he said, "Look, Mommy! A ghost!" I looked to where he pointed and my eyes landed on...his shadow.

I was tipped off about this when I was asked to spell mischief

2011-02-21T13:25:00.003-06:00

From 5 year old Jonathan:

Boys: All The Nobler

2011-02-09T12:30:00.003-06:00

It all starts so young...

Jonathan: Boys want to go to space for science.

Joseph: Yeah, girls just want to go for money.

Jonathan: Yeah. Boys: 100. Girls: Zero. Ha-ha-ha.

History lesson

2011-01-26T07:39:00.002-06:00

Jonathan: Mom & Dad, I can't believe you lived in the 1980's! Did you have TVs or radios? Did you have horses or cars?

Me: We had Ronald Reagan and great music!

Oh, those parents aren't controlling at all...

2010-09-12T09:31:00.004-05:00

Before we enter Church we always ask the boys if they remember the "church rules". These are the rules they spewed out one after the other this morning.

Dad: Okay, Guys, what are the rules during Mass?

Joseph: Stay still.

Jonathan: Don't squirm.

Joseph: Don't play with the baby.

Jonathan: Don't play with your other brother.

Joseph: Don't put your feet on the kneelers.

Jonathan: Obey your mom and dad.

Joseph: Concentrate on Jesus.

Jonathan: Be quiet.

Joseph: Save your questions until church is done.

Jonathan: Don't have a secret plan to leave church.

Joseph: Don't walk too slowly back from Communion.

Jonathan: Don't wander in the other line going up to Communion.

Joseph: Stay close to mom and dad.

Jonathan: Don't get too close to your brothers.

Joseph: Don't make Lukey Baby laugh.

Jonathan: Don't bend the church books.

Joseph: Sit and stand when others sit and stand.

Jonathan: Don't pay attention to others, just think about God.

Joseph: And don't hide toys in your pocket to play with at church.

Wedding Picture

2010-08-25T11:20:00.001-05:00

Mommy and Daddy getting married. By Jonathan, 4.

Travelin' Man

2010-08-18T10:25:00.003-05:00

He's on his way...

...with everything he needs: a juice cup, half of a donut left over from breakfast 2 hours ago, and a drill.

Oh, and as usual of late, no pants.

Friends forever

2010-08-18T10:20:00.002-05:00

Joseph: Mom, where's that paper pal?

Me: What?

Joseph: The paper pal you gave me. Where is it?

Me: What's a paper pal?

Joseph: That thing you gave me to write with.

Me: Do you mean Paper Mate?

Joseph: Yeah, that.

Headlines! Headlines!

2010-07-08T11:36:00.003-05:00

Joseph: Mommy, will you write for me?

Me: Sure.

Joseph: Somebody mowing the lawn. The trees are blowing right now, but blowing slowly. One bird flying. Two birds flying. One bird flying down. One bird flying across the Earth. A car...

Me: Wait. What is this for?

Joseph: My newspaper of course. ...A car driving by the front yard side. A moth that looks like a bird or fly zooming by the lilies. All the houses on our street are quiet. Three toys on the deck. A cloud that looks like a human dancing. A grey car parked beside a red car. A robin on the pole and then it flies off the pole.

On My Math Skills Improving

2010-06-17T10:18:00.006-05:00

1 quarter + 1 stomach = 1 x-ray x 4 weeks

3 M&Ms + 1 nose = 1 very stern warning about going back to the doctor

1 roll of toilet paper + 1 drain = 1 plunger + 1 shop vac x 60 minutes

1 curtain rod + 1 child holding onto curtain while jumping from chair = 3 extra hours of sunlight

/ the last 24 hours = 1 exciting life x 3 little boys.

Overheard

2010-04-09T09:50:00.003-05:00

As I was duct-taping a toy together for the second time, I heard the following from another room:

"No, we can't use real fire. Mom won't let us."

Uh, that would be one reason.

MISSING: One Easter Egg

2010-04-04T07:12:00.001-05:00

Dear Easter Bunny,

I know you told me you hid 36 eggs, but we only found 35. You didn't forget how young our children are, did you? You weren't supposed to hide them that well. Little children need the encouragment of easily found eggs to keep looking, otherwise, they tend to give up and be satisfied with eating the jellybeans inside the eggs they did find.

I've looked everywhere that ~~I remember hiding them~~ you told me to, but there is still a plastic egg full of jellybeans lurking somewhere, uneaten.

Please help.

Yours Truly,
Mom

P.S. Thanks for not using real eggs this year.

Update: Found. I You put it too high.

Counterpoints to the Culture of Death

2010-03-22T08:45:00.004-05:00

I can vividly remember a few years ago while much of the country watched in horror as Terri Schiavo was starved to death. At the same time, a frail, but holy man lay on his death bed giving us the counterpoint to the culture of death. Of course, that great man was our beloved Pope John Paul the Great, who defended life at all of its points, whether weak or strong.

My heart sinks today with the passage of the health care bill. This bill, if fully enacted, will not only increase abortions, but will be the catalyst for legalized euthanasia. In His goodness, while the culture of death gains another point, God has given us another Saint at the same time to intercede for the side of life: Fr. Paul Marx, who passed away one day before the legislation passed. This great apostle of life is entrusted to God.

Interestingly, Pope John Paul the Great died on the vigil of the Feast of Divine Mercy, and not coincidentally, the novena of Divine Mercy begins on Good Friday. It is appropriate for us to pray for God's mercy before God hands down His justice. God is giving us ample opportunity to reform our lives, convert our hearts, and rest in His love.

There seems to be greater suffering during Lent. Little do we know that as God allows this, He is calling us to join in His divinity. So, while there is Terri Schiavo, this horrific health care bill, and Good Friday, there is also Pope John Paul the Great, Fr. Paul Marx, and Easter Sunday. Jesus DID rise from the dead. HE LIVES! And despite whatever illusions Washington may have of itself, God is still in control.

Someday, Mama...

2010-03-09T09:52:00.004-06:00

This morning, I was talking to Jonathan about how he might want to be a priest someday. He promptly replied no -- he had plans to be a daddy instead.

I said, "Well, can I bring your kids lots of treats when I'm a grandma?" He nodded, and then he leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "And after you bring my kids treats, you can bring me a book about Jesus from the library and we can snuggle up and read it together."

Copy Cat

2010-03-08T10:16:00.003-06:00

Little Luke just turned two years old. He copies everything, everything that we do. Lately, I've been running out of towels because Luke takes them from the towel drawer and sets to work cleaning up whatever real or imaginary mess he can find. I find towels stuck behind the refrigerator, sharing space with the dust around the TV, stuffed down the furnace vents, and of course rightly strewn all over the messiest room in the house: the toy room.

At first it was cute. I'd spill something while cooking dinner and I had a little person get to work right away sopping up the liquid. But after a few months of this, I grew tired of picking up the towels all around the house, and while most of them were perfectly fine to use, in a house with three little boys, how could I be sure? So into the laundry they went. I also grew tired of running out of towels when I needed them. I have four of my favorite dish-washing rags which I never had a problem of finding, until recently.

But this weekend, I was sitting at the kitchen table silently shedding tears during a bout of hormonal imbalance. Luke was sitting in the chair across from me, saw the tears and asked, "O-Tay?" I nodded and assured him that I was o-tay. He got off the chair, went to the towel drawer, grabbed one of the remaining few, climbed back on his chair and up onto the table, crawled across, wiped my tears and said, "Dare, It's o-tay."

Shrug. What's a few extra loads of laundry after all?

I wish I may, I wish I might

2009-11-30T20:05:00.002-06:00

I bought a light-up wand that makes a swishy sound when your wish is granted as a car toy for the baby. Here's how it went when the two big boys got a hold of it:

Joseph: I want the wand. Give it to me, Jonathan. SHARE!

Jonathan: No! I'm not sharing.

Joseph (calmly): Jonathan, here are your choices: you can share or you can trade. Which do you choose? (This language sounded eerily familiar.)

Jonathan: I choose to keep it!

Joseph: No! Those aren't your choices. Waaaaahhh!

Mother: Okay, Jonathan can keep it until we get to McDonalds and then Joseph can have it on the way back.

Joseph: Okay, that sounds good. When I have it, I'm going to turn Jonathan into a ROCK!

Backfire

2009-11-10T22:03:00.004-06:00

So I uttered the inevitable phrase today, "I can't wait until you have kids of your own!"

(Actually, I might have yelled it, but that's not really the point.)

In my mind I was thinking I would hear, "You're right, Mother. I should settle down and stop jumping off the furniture and bouncing off the walls. In my adulthood, when my kids do this, I will surely feel some guilt for how I drove you crazy. So I will stop now so as to avoid any such guilt and of course to show you the respect you deserve. Thank you for enlightening me."

In reality I got, "Oh, thank you! I can't wait either!" Which only seemed to incite more excitement and bouncing.

Glass...er Concrete Houses

2009-10-07T14:20:00.002-05:00

ME (yelling from another room): Jonathan, stop pounding that rock on the table!

JONATHAN: Why, Mom?

ME: Because it could scratch or dent the wood.

Thoughtful pause.

JONATHAN: Mom, wouldn't it be great if our house was made of all concrete?

ME: Uh, sure...I guess.

What do you do with a baby...

2009-09-22T10:18:00.004-05:00

...who is fed, well-rested, dry...but still fussy as can be?

I hope my mp3 player can handle a little drool.

The Day I Told My Son He Has Autism

2009-08-18T19:30:00.006-05:00

"Mommy, why did I have those tests?" 5-year old Joseph asked out of the blue one day in August. He had not mentioned that day since March when we had a full battery of tests that confirmed the diagnosis.

Joseph, God made you different. Different isn't bad because God never makes mistakes. NEVER. He made you different because he must have some special plans for you that we don't know about yet.

You are different in the way you don't like your clothes getting wet. You are different in that you like to play alone. You are different when you are afraid to talk to relatives even after you have met them several times over. You are different in the way you play with your food and make things out of it before you eat.

You are also different in how smart you are. You are different in how you remember things years later even if you have only heard it once (and you keep your Mommy and Daddy on their toes because of it.) You are different in how you see toys not as what they are intended to be, but as parts to the most amazing creations your Dad and I have ever seen. You are different because you don't pretend, and so you don't see God as a magic-maker on high but you believe in Him as He truly is: a loving Father, the One who loves perfectly, the One that will always take care of you.

But because you are different you have to learn to live in a world that doesn't always understand you. Most people think alike, but your brain was made special so you don't think like most people. You have to learn how to get along in a world that doesn't think like you. And that will be hard sometimes. But Mommy and Daddy will be here helping you along the way. And God will show you how he wants you to use the special gifts He gave you.

And we can't wait to see how you will amaze us as you grow.

Overheard after the Our Father

2009-08-17T10:34:00.002-05:00

God must use a pretty special truck to deliver us from evil!

-Jonathan, age 3

Dear Guardian Angel

2009-07-30T19:01:00.002-05:00

My boys are usually chattering non-stop, constantly moving, and generally have their own stubborn ideas about how the world works at their advanced ages of 3 and 5 years. Do they really hear me? Is anything that I'm trying to teach them sinking in?

Ironically, I often chastise myself for things I shouldn't do or say because it sets a bad example for them. However, rarely do I take credit for the good that I do for them by the grace of God. But tonight, as I stood outside Joseph's bedroom door, I heard the following that greatly encouraged me and made my heart swell with pride:

Dear Guardian Angel,

Please help me sleep.

It's hard for me right now because I'm so excited about tomorrow.

I know that you can help me because you love me.

I know that sleep is the most important thing. But love is even more important. I love you Guardian Angel.

All of the Guardian Angels, please help me sleep. As soon as you do, I'll blow you a kiss.

I love you.

Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Amen.

His Angel must have helped him because I just hear quiet now.

Thank you for watching over them, Dear Angels. And thank you, too, for watching over their mother who often needs a reminder that love is the most important thing.

Good start to the week

2009-07-27T08:14:00.006-05:00

This morning, Joseph flushed Jonathan’s toilet full of poop before Jonathan got a chance to do it himself. Joseph didn’t want to pee into a dirty toilet. Jonathan cried about this for 10 minutes before he went to Joseph and hit him on the head with a shoe.

I told Jonathan to apologize and to put my shoes back because it’s my only pair and I can never find them when I need them because “you kids are always taking them.” (I know, what’s worse: me having only one pair of shoes or the act of hitting ones brother? Tough one.)

After apologies were said for the hitting incident, I reluctantly involved myself.

ME: Honey, Joseph didn’t know that you like to flush your own poop because he doesn’t flush his own poop so he didn’t know it was important to you.

JONATHAN: (crying, full tears) But I wanted to flush my own poop!

ME: Well, honey, you’ll get to do it again – probably even today! (I exclaimed excitedly)

JONATHAN: But what if it doesn’t look the same?

ME: (avoiding the last question) Jonathan, it won’t happen again because now Joseph knows how important it is to you.

JOSEPH: (yelling from the other room) IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN! I’m not going in a dirty potty!

JONATHAN: (Bearing a new flood of tears because of Joseph’s proclamation.)

ME: Joseph, that’s not helpful. That’s not showing love to your brother when you know he’s upset. Jonathan, what’s done is done. You can’t change the past. I’m sure it won’t happen again. (spoken a little more quietly this time so as not to invoke another response from empathetic brother.)

JONATHAN: NO! I WANTED TO FLUSH!

ME: (feeling I had already gone to heroic measures over this issue) Okay, then go in the chair until you can stop crying.

Immediate silence.

Meanwhile, as I was typing this, both boys were having a civilized discussion about each others bathroom habits and the trials of having only one bathroom on this floor. When they were done, Jonathan came up to me and said, “Mom, me and Joseph and Jonathan had a little talk about my poop.” Well, good. I’m glad it’s all worked out.

This all happened on a Monday before 8:00 a.m., so all in all, it's a good start to the week!

Fruits of the season

2009-06-21T03:32:00.012-05:00

I have great plans for those flower pots...

The boys moved their sandbox into the pool today.

These rows speak to my sense of order and they say, "Look at us! Look how pretty we are!"

Lost in deep thought

2009-06-21T03:26:00.004-05:00

The baby got a hold of a marker today.

The sad thing is, I was standing right there wrapping up the cord at the time.

Solidarity

2009-05-28T10:47:00.012-05:00

Twice in the last few days, I've walked up the steps leading to our back door and was startled by a baby robin nestled between the rocks surrounding the steps. Both times I've thought the mother abandoned the bird, but both times the mother robin came swooping in squawking when I got too close. At first I thought the mama bird was trying to scare me away, but at the second encounter, I noticed the mama bird wasn't coming after me at all. What she was doing was flapping her wings and squawking at her baby to get moving, there's a human near!

This little bird valiantly flapped her wings as she tried to get up to the higher rocks away from me. She seemed reluctant but the mama kept squawking and flapping until baby was far enough away from danger. I feel some sort of solidarity with that mama robin. My days are filled getting after little humans who are reluctant to stay away from danger and messes and embrace responsibility. And the hardest thing about it is not the first squawking & flapping. The hardest thing about it is correcting them twice and three times and again and again and again. The frustration is not in the thing itself, it's in the recidivism.

But that God-given love, commitment, bond that we have with our children renews our strength each day. And God renews His grace sometimes each hour...sometimes each minute. I understand your plight and your responsibility, Mama Robin, so I'll try to go through the front door until your little one grows up a bit more.

Boys will be boys on Memorial Day 2009

2009-05-25T12:38:00.005-05:00

After I gave what I thought was an age appropriate explanation of who we honor on Memorial Day and why, this led to a long discussion of what the military does which led to the two younger boys getting together with the older boy (aka husband) and viewing tanks and missiles on YouTube and watching things blow up.

May God rest in peace all of the souls who have fallen while bravely protecting our great country. It is because of them that my husband and sons can share an experience that only boys can truly appreciate.

Nursery Rhyme, meet Reality

2009-05-15T09:33:00.005-05:00

Jonathan was drawing with window markers today (which are probably dry erase markers marketed as window markers, but if I don't test it, I'm not a sucker for buying them). Interrupting the quiet morning, he yelled, "MOM, DON'T COME IN HERE!"

Of course, I promptly ran into the room comtemplating all of the possible scenarios that I might encounter. The one that I saw was #53 on the list: marker drawing all over the wood bench below the bay window. When I asked him why he did it, he replied, "I just wanted to see what Humpty would look like."

Humility Is...

2009-04-30T22:27:00.003-05:00

...telling your three year old that for goodness sake sitting down in the middle of an aisle at Target is not appropriate. We don't sit or lay on floors in public (geez, how embarrassing!)...

...when five minutes later you find yourself sitting on the floor in the middle of an aisle at Target to make sure your screaming one year old is okay after you've accidentally smooshed his foot in the kid cart thingy.

Note: no children were seriously injured during the learning of this lesson.

Vocabulary Lesson

2009-04-28T07:11:00.003-05:00

ME: You might have a canker sore.

JOSEPH: What's a Kanga sore?

ME: No, Cank-er Sore.

JONATHAN (who's really into dinosaurs right now): Yeah, Kangasaurus.

ME: No. Cank-ER SORE. Two words.

JOSEPH: KANGA Sore?

JONATHAN: No, Canker SAURUS!

ME: Sigh.

The Break-Up

2009-04-14T10:40:00.005-05:00

Dear Morning Nap,

I think it's time to say goodbye. No, no, don't fight it. I've been coming to the slow realization for two weeks straight now. I didn't want to believe it either; I was hoping it was just a new tooth coming in. But the truth is he's growing up, and he just doesn't need us together anymore.

So, goodbye Morning Dishes. I'll be seeing you after dinner once again.

Goodbye Morning Clutter Cleanup. We'll have to cut our meetings down to once in the afternoon.

Goodbye Leisurely Morning Cup of Coffee. Maybe we could still get together on the weekends?

Goodbye Morning Internet and News Update. I trust that the world will still go on even if I don't check in with you.

Goodbye Morning Exercises. Who knows when I'll be seeing you again.

Fortunately for you, Laundry, there's no giving you up. So, although the efficiency with which we once met may be less, we'll still be seeing each other often. That's something. I guess.

Finally, goodbye Free Time. I'll miss you the most. Maybe in a few years, when he's more mature, we can start seeing each other again. Don't forget about me.

Attention: Stove-Making People

2009-04-04T05:55:00.005-05:00

One evening last week, my husband and I were enjoying a quiet night on the couch when all of a sudden we heard a loud shattering of glass. Kraig thought someone had thrown a rock through a window. However, we ran to the kitchen to find smoke and glass shards everywhere. My undercooked pan of brownies that I had left cooling on the stove in the Pyrex glass pan were now burnt to a crisp and scattered across my kitchen.

Now you might be thinking, "Oh, you should sue those Pyrex people. Someone could have been seriously injured if they were in the kitchen." Yes, this is true, however, the blame lies not with Pyrex, but with the stove-making people.

You see, I had put a pot of water on the stove to make macaroni and cheese. Our stove is one of those ceramic electric gizmo's with the smooth top. It has a set of four dots to indicate which burner corresponds to which knob. So, the bottom dots correspond to the front burners, while the top dots correspond to the back burners. Now, I am not only spatially challenged, but I have word association issues. When I think of bottom, I think of back -- like "back of the line." Likewise, when I think of top, I think front. So, you can probably imagine what happened: I turned on the burner that the pan of brownies were sitting on instead of the burner that had the pan of water. Obviously, this is not the fault of Pyrex, but of the stove-making people who placed the dots in the wrong spot.

No, I take that back. They may not have placed the dots in the wrong spot, but their work is incomplete. Could they have added a couple of words above the knob, such as, "Front Left Burner" and "Bottom Left Burner"? Or how about something catchy like, "Front left burner that is closest to you that you use most often and is the biggest on the stove top."? I don't think that is unreasonable.

The reason I don't think that last label is unreasonable is because this is not the first time this has happened to me. Well, it's the first time I've blown up glass-sharded brownies. But, I've had this type of stove for over 6 years, so I've melted plastic bags and burned the bread inside it. I've had a couple of close calls with faulty, non-fireproof dish towels. On more than one occasion, my dear husband has walked into an empty kitchen to find an empty burner with the red heating element all lit up, while a pan of something sits expectantly on the cold burner beside it.

And sometimes, I just forget to turn the stupid thing off when I'm done cooking, so in addition to the label updates, the stove-making people (who are no doubt regular readers of this blog) should include a weight sensor. If something the weight of a pan -- i.e., more than the weight of a bread loaf or a dish towel -- is not on the burner, then it should have an automatic shut-off. And maybe add a quick cool-down while you're at it.

Just my two cents. Because obviously, my accidents are the fault of poor engineering, not human error.

It's all about perspective

2009-04-04T05:51:00.006-05:00

Last night at the dinner table, Joseph asked what day it was going to be tomorrow. I told him, "Saturday, my day off."

Joseph was indignant, "Saturday isn't your day off; it's Daddy's day off!"

With a regretful smile on his face, Daddy answered, "No, Saturday is Mommy's day off."

Insistent with his response, Joseph continued, "NO, Saturday is YOUR day off, Daddy!" Then he added for good measure to make sure we understood, "Mommy gets all of the days off."

Silly us.

On the same page

2009-03-10T10:37:00.005-05:00

"It looks like a big blizzard out there, Joseph" Said about 10 times by the brother who just wants to be acknowledged with the important information that he is sharing.

"I heard you, Jonathan. You said it a lot of times." Said by the brother who can't be bothered with obvious, repetitive weather reports.

Bug Bites

2009-03-06T18:17:00.005-06:00

This morning, the two big boys and I made a grasshopper pie. I was so proud of myself for coming up with creative reasons why it was called grasshopper pie.

I was rewarded after dinner when Jonathan announced, "Mom, this is the best CRICKET pie I ever had!"

Pies really shouldn't be named after bugs anyway.

Crazy Mama

2009-03-01T18:17:00.003-06:00

This week, we celebrated Luke's 1st birthday. We invited people to celebrate with us. A lot of people. Because it was hectic getting ready, one day this week, I called my husband on his way home from work and ordered up the good stuff: Dove chocolate.

When I buy a bag of Dove, which is not often, it's sacred. I don't like to share it. I know that's not very virtuous of me, but I buy it because I need it. It calms me. It prevents yelling. I must have haphazardly explained this to Joseph at some point this week because when he saw me eating a piece this evening, he exclaimed loudly, "Mommy, are you eating that so that you stop the craziness?!?"

Lenten Reflection by a 5 year old

2009-03-01T18:04:00.005-06:00

Today in Mass, as he was looking at the Eleventh Station of the Cross, Joseph asked who was holding the hammers. Suspending my rule of not answering questions in church, I answered that those were Roman soldiers who were nailing Jesus to the cross.

He pondered my answer for a moment and then said, "I don't want to get nails in me." I told him that he doesn't have to have nails because Jesus already did that for him so that he could go to Heaven.

And then Joseph asked, "Because Jesus loves me?"

Yes, Joseph, because Jesus loves you.

Happy 1st Birthday, Lucas!

2009-02-27T14:43:00.002-06:00

We've had quite a year: a job change, a big move and best of all, a new baby! You fit perfectly into our family, dear Lukey.

We love you! Happy One Year!

Thank you, President Bush

2009-01-20T22:15:00.005-06:00

It's been a rough day. Since November 4th, I've known this day was coming, and because of that, I didn't think I would be affected. The damage was done. I had already suffered some grief and loss on November 5th.

And while I expect that President Obama's policies will be harmful for our country, today, what saddened me more was the end of President Bush's tenure. He is a good man. Not a perfect president, but a very good man. I don't know how I know other than it's a sense that I have. His intentions, I believe, have always been just and unselfish and his actions courageous.

The perception of President Bush reminds me of how Pope Benedict VXI is perceived: harsh and uncompassionate. Of course, this perception of both men is wildly inaccurate. Both have had scores of people deliver the opposite impression of them over the years. Both are deeply loved around the world. Both are uncompromising in their principles. Maybe this is why both are hated with a vitriol that seems disproportionate to the true character of each man.

Standing up for the truth amidst a world of unbelievers must truly be lonely. It certainly doesn't win a person any points in the popularity category. And this is what bothers me: President Bush did what he thought was best for our country, not what was best for himself, and yet he is vilified. He is marked as evil. He is hated. I don't use those words lightly -- people truly despise this man.

But I love him even though I don't know him personally. I love him for keeping us safe since September 11th, 2001. I love him for persevering in the virtue of courage against a strong opposition on many fronts. I love him for his enduring grin: always smiling through the condescending question, not taking offense because he wasn't caught up in thoughts of himself. I love him for his unselfish service to our country; the presidency is a great burden for any man. I love him for his unwavering love and commitment to our troops; he conveyed not only his own appreciation and gratitude for their service, but the country's as well. And I love him for his humor and faith in God and commitment to his own family.

May God bless you, Mr. President, and may He who is Truth itself reward you for your faithful service to Him and us.

Makeup Mayhem

2009-01-01T14:40:00.004-06:00

I walked into the bathroom and pulled out only one of the two lipstick tubes from my pocket that I had bought earlier that day. Fear and dread filled my mind as I thought of the last place I had been: my sons' bedroom. It must of fallen out when I bent over to kiss them goodnight. Do I go back in there and check for it risking upsetting the calm that had finally settled over the room? Or do I risk dark maroon lipstick in a room unsupervised with my most curious child?? As I was debating my options, the question was answered for me when I heard Joseph run to the door.

"Mommy! Can you clean George??" He asked.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to see what would happen." He continued.
And finally, to wrap up his spoken onslaught of thoughts, he said, "Why did you leave this in here with me???"

Of course, even though it was my fault, Praying Bear did not escape unscathed either:

Electronic Age

2008-12-19T10:03:00.003-06:00

JONATHAN: Mom, is Jesus the light of the world?

ME: Yes, he is.

JONATHAN: But he doesn't have any batteries??

JOSEPH: Yeah, and he doesn't have any electric wires.

Dilemma

2008-12-17T11:08:00.004-06:00

I'm nearly done with my holiday baking, and I have noticed that the delicious tasting cookies aren't as pretty as the mediocre tasting cookies, but the mediocre tasting cookies are so pretty that I must include them on the plate.

The irony of freedom and independence

2008-11-26T13:59:00.005-06:00

My almost 10 month old has been crawling for a month or so now. It's ironic that while he now has more freedom, I find my own quite curtailed. Gone are the days that I could get some work done while he sat in his high chair contentedly watching me while playing with his toys.

His waking hours are now spent by me saving his life each time he goes near the three-step sunken living room. And on more than one occasion, I have single-handedly removed a small object from his mouth that he found in the museum of chokeable toys, also known as the playroom for the 3 and up kids.

I have picked up crocheting again so I can feel somewhat productive while I sit and watch him. So goes the stages of motherhood that seem to repeat themselves with each new child. Although, I'm not the same person I was the last time I had a baby this age --a little older, a little wiser --I do find myself crocheting the same darn blanket.

Jonathan-isms

2008-11-26T11:06:00.004-06:00

Our 3 year old, Jonathan, has been more funny than usual lately:

Joseph: What happens if I take apart your booster chair?
Jonathan: Well, then I can't booster anymore.

-------

Jonathan: (Excitedly) Lookit that pile of corn!
Joseph: That's not corn.
Jonathan: (Matter of factly) Yes, it is.
Joseph: No, it's not. What is it then?
Jonathan: (Indignant) It's CORN!
Joseph: No. What is it?
Jonathan: (Yelling loudly within the close confines of the minivan )COOORRRN!!!
Joseph: Mommy, what is that pile over there?
Me: Corn.
Joseph: It's corn, Jonathan.
Jonathan: (calmly, as though the last few minutes have not transpired) Oh, it is??

------

Jonathan: Mommy, why are you in the back of the van with us?
Me: So I can give you your chicken nuggets and fries.
Jonathan: Oh. Mommy, you're the best giver in the whole world!

Happy Birthday Joseph Peter!

2008-11-12T15:12:00.003-06:00

It was 5 years ago today that our lives changed forever with your birth. And we are so glad they did!

We love you, Joseph! God Bless You!

Di-Di

2008-10-15T21:09:00.003-05:00

Little Lukey just said it: Di-Di.

I'm sure he meant Da-Da. I don't think we need to be picky with pronunciation at 7 months.

Random, mostly sarcastic thoughts floating around in my head

2008-10-13T11:01:00.007-05:00

1. For the first time today, I admitted out loud that those vitamins I give my kids every morning probably do more to appease my guilt about not feeding them vegetables everyday than it does for them nutritionally. So essentially, those vitamin companies are allowing me to buy good feelings about my motherhood. How kind of them.

2. We are on day 1 of potty training Jonathan. Potty training is one of those things that I like to talk about doing and fantasize about having done. I think the sticker chart appeals to my sense of order. But two loads of laundry later, two Little's in diapers and $20 for a box of them isn't looking so bad -- even in this economy.

3. Teething is one of those things that I fantasize about being over. I don't even like to talk about it. Maybe if I made a sticker chart for every tooth? I doubt it. Unless at the end of filling the chart, I get to sleep through the night.

4. Finally, 13 gallon size trash bins actually require a 30 gallon bag. If you try to use a 13 gallon bag, it falls in on itself 90% of the time. Don't let the trash industry fool you. They are in cahoots with the 10-hot-dog-pack-8-bun-pack people.

Leaf Storm

2008-10-12T11:07:00.002-05:00

The Zoo At My House

2008-10-08T10:48:00.005-05:00

After an exasperating morning of repeating well-established, but broken house rules, I asked aloud of no one in particular, "Who makes up the rules, the animals or the mother?"

Without missing a beat, three year old Jonathan quipped matter of factly, "The animals."

Smart little monkey, that one is.

Happy Birthday, Johnny Jon!

2008-10-05T16:53:00.004-05:00

Happy Birthday to my little-big 3 year old who is in between toddlerdom and preschoolville. Daddy and I are so proud of you and we love you so, Jonathan Paul.

Weekend Away

2008-10-05T16:31:00.005-05:00

This weekend, my parents took the two older boys camping. It was so peaceful and quiet around our house with just the baby. I cleaned the house in record time on Saturday morning. And it stayed cleaned. For longer than 37 seconds.

I told Kraig that I had forgotten how easy having just one child had been. And I lamented that I had not really -- could not have really -- appreciated how easy it was to have just one child at a time. Kraig reminded me that I used to call him at work and tell him how bored I was when it was just Joseph and me home alone all day. He said that I used to say, "I can't wait for the baby to wake up so I have something to do." That doesn't sound at all like something I would say, so he may have been telling tales.

But despite the quiet and the remarkable speed at which I was able to accomplish things (and here I thought it was my age that was slowing me down!), there was some sort of incompleteness to my life this weekend. I was so happy that the boys got to spend time with their grandparents. But I was also happy to have them back.

I'm becoming my Father

2008-09-09T13:57:00.007-05:00

When we were children, and still today, my siblings and I have mocked my Dad because he used to hide the bandages from us. When we were bleeding to near death we would have to find Dad first, leaving a trail of blood behind us. If he wasn't around, we lit a candle and just hoped for the best because oftentimes, not even Mom knew where they were. We never understood why he did this. As kids we thought it was some strange quirk of Dad's.

But in my role as a mother, I have found myself on more than one occasion hiding the bandages from my own children. The most recent occurrence was today when the 4 year old was tending to the fake blood of the 2 year old. Joseph told me what he was doing, but I didn't say much since I was confident that I had put the bandages up high enough. I kept my sarcastic "good luck with that" thoughts to myself and continued on with my tasks. But underestimating my children is never very smart.

Joseph simply moved the step stool to the bandage shelf and grabbed them while I told him no. He ran. I chased. He got the box open and they went flying everywhere. He grabbed one and started ripping it open against my protests, determined to save his victim.

And as all of this was playing out, I had flashbacks to my childhood of my Dad telling us how expensive those bandages were and that we kids used them when we didn't really need them. For all of the times -- even in my adult life -- that I had made fun of Dad for this "quirk", I had totally blocked out the reality: those things are dang expensive. And fake blood does not necessitate a bandage.

Election 2008: Contrasts

2008-08-30T08:26:00.009-05:00

While I have been following this election closely, I can hardly say that I've been excited about my choices.

Until Now.

I am absolutely struck by the stark and logical contrasts between Barack Obama and Sarah Palin. Here are the major ones, but I'm sure there are more:

1. Much has been written on both sides about the historical nature of this election because Obama is the first black person nominated for the highest office in our land. For some, that puts an extra marble on Obama's side of the scale.

But now we have Sarah. She's not the first woman to be nominated vice president, however we can accept a marble for her part in history as well because on November 5th, we will either have our first black president or our first female vice president.

2. Obama has been implicated in multiple associations with known corrupt people. It is believed by some, this blogger included, that he climbed the political ladder on the rungs of these associations.

However, Sarah has fought against corruption time and again. In fact, her rise to the political top was not because she was taking and giving favors, but because she was firing and prosecuting those corrupt politicians who were taking from the people.

3. And finally, we have the most poignant difference. Jill Stanek is a nurse who testified to a committee that Barack Obama led about a baby who was aborted because he had Down Syndrome. The baby survived the abortion. When Stanek found the baby left for dead in a soiled utility room, she held the baby for 45 minutes until he breathed his last breath.

In contrast, Sarah and her husband, Todd, knowing in utero that their fifth child would have Down Syndrome, brought him into this world and hold him everyday. And now, he can be held up as a beautiful example that love comes in many packages.

This last point, I think, is really an example of the Woman crushing the head of the Serpent.

This is good and evil squaring off. Certainly, Sarah Palin is not the Blessed Mother, nor is Barack Obama the Devil. But Sarah is an instrument of God. And Obama, an instrument of the devil.

12 Step Program for cleaning your house

2008-08-18T15:26:00.009-05:00

1. Start with a bad day. A Monday works well, but any day of the week will do.

2. Be consistent with the discipline of your children for most of the morning.

3. When your energy level begins to wane significantly, begin to tolerate more bad behavior from your children.

4. Mid-afternoon, reach your breaking point and take everything away from your children.

5. With renewed energy, find a logical place for all of the things that you haven't known what to do with for the last month.

6. With the clutter, i.e. children's things, removed from the general living areas, feel a motivation to vacuum that you haven't had since before you had the children.

7. Vacuum like a crazy person while your children stand right in the very spot you happen to be cleaning at the moment. You should have enough energy to move the furniture and vacuum under it. If not, you may have picked the wrong day to attempt such a rigorous method.

8. Now that you can see your surfaces, spend a few moments locating the dust spray. Brush off the dust from the spray bottle and consider how nice that woodwork actually is when it's polished.

9. Repeat steps 4-8 for each room in your house.

10. When you are done, write this down in a blog entry so that you can remember this method for next month.

11. Forgive your children, give them a hug, and smile for the first time in 90 minutes.

12. Sit down on the couch and enjoy your clean house and your well-behaved children.

Now, I admit this is not the ideal method for deep cleaning your house because it neglects the paperwork that has been piling up in your office. However, filing simply doesn't require the adrenaline rush that is created with his method, so it's best to save that for a calm Saturday morning while your husband watches the kids.

Boys and Girls: At Mass

2008-08-17T15:36:00.006-05:00

Sitting in the pew in front of us was an adorable little 2 1/2 year old girl with long, blond curls. She wrapped her doll meticulously while my 2 1/2 year old boy explored the underside of our pew on his belly. She stared distastefully at Jonathan as he picked his nose, then proceeded to examine the contents on his finger. When Jonathan got a little too close to her, she arched her shoulders back and inched away from him. Oblivious to her rebuff, Jonathan simply stepped up on the kneeler to regain his watchful position of her. Toward the end of Mass, as she burped her doll quietly, my not-so-quiet son pointed to a life-size statue of our Lord and yelled, "Look, Mom! That is the biggest Jesus in the world!"

Battle weary

2008-08-14T11:53:00.002-05:00

Some days are harder than others where discipline is concerned. Before Ten a.m. today, our 4 year old had so many privileges taken away that in my exasperation, I looked around and finding nothing else to remove, I took away his little brother.

And the funny thing is, after the apologies had been said and forgiveness had been given once more, his behavior seemed to turn the corner for the better. It's nice to know that despite their vast personality differences, the age difference, and despite the arguments, taking away a brother is the strictest punishment.

Boys and their toys, Part II

2008-08-10T23:07:00.007-05:00

I had this ideal. I was ready. I spent hours and hours preparing, in fact. I was going to ration out new toys and novel activities to occupy the time for my 4 and 2 year old boys during our 8 hour car trip to Grandma & Grandpa's cabin.

It was beautiful, my laundry basket. It was filled with various games and activities the likes of which the boys had never seen. Two of each, because why, if I was trying to cut down on noise in the confined space of a van, would I offer a new toy to one and not the other? Sure, I could have went the "Take Turns" route, but, did I mention this was going to be an 8 hour trip? The patience of a Saint, I do not yet have.

But alas, on our first break, I went back to do a quick cleanup and found the new notebooks ripped to shreds, the rainbow colored pencils that smelled like a new school year chewed to nubs or otherwise stuffed into any van crevice that the boys could reach from their car seats, the high protein and fiber "car breakfast" that I was so proud of providing for them instead of the junk that I could have opted for was a smooshed, sticky, mess that I scraped from the bottom and sides of their car seats. And as I scraped, I recalled the conversation I had had with them not more than two hours ago: the one where they responded with enthusiasm that their breakfast was good!

On our second break, I found letter magnets and train puzzle magnets and construction puzzle magnets ALL MIXED TOGETHER! Gasp! But I didn't just find them mixed together in one place. No, they were mixed together stuck in between the seats, under the seats, thrown in the back trunk, stuffed in the pocket of the middle seat, and somehow made their mixed-up way to the front near my seat.

On our third break, I found the remains of the licorice snack, a Magnadoodle string that had been nearly torn off, and more magnets that I must have missed on break #2. For goodness sake, what had I been thinking with all of these magnets?

Now, somewhere stuck in the far back corner of my brain was the knowledge that all of this would happen. In fact, some piece of information in that far back corner told me that I got off easy, that by rationing as I did, I prevented a much greater mess.

But still, my ideal -- the one at the front of my brain -- had been shattered. Oh well. We made it through. The boys did what they do. And they had fun doing it. Sometimes, I catch my cynical self thinking that their goal is to make messes just for the sake of making messes. Of course, that's not true. I don't think. Well, it's not true most of the time.

No, I think that most of the time their priorities are not my priorities. Their priorities are pretending, creating, discovering, playing, learning, being childish, yes, but also on their list of priorities is being children. And there is an innocence and purity in being children which makes the messes not so bad to clean up.

Boys and their toys, Part I

2008-08-07T22:48:00.008-05:00

My boys have never really played with toys the way they were intended to be played with. This used to annoy my sense of order, but I became resigned to my new reality within a couple of years.

Our youngest, Lucas, is nearly 6 months so I've been looking at toys for his age group whenever I pick up diapers in the baby aisle. What I am finding is that 99% of the time, I mentally rule out a toy because after considering it for 5.2 seconds, I realize that said toy is no match for the older boys.

They would use those balls from the popper thing as rocks to be crushed by their big Tonka trucks. They would break that thin piece of plastic holding a figurine in place and use it as a lever for a train they were building. They would no doubt tear off the fabric halo from that adorable angel doll and use it as an o-ring for a spaceship they were constructing. And those loosely-sewn eyes wouldn't last long either.

On one hand, I cringe at the work and probable futility of keeping the toys separated. On the other hand, my sense of curiosity and pride marvels at their creativity. And then there is another part of me that asks the question, "Could we earn money if I offered their services to Fisher Price for safety testing?"

Future meteorologist

2008-07-24T11:38:00.002-05:00

As he stared through the window watching the rain pour down, Jonathan predicted, "I think it's going to wain."

God loves us in our messiness

2008-07-19T19:13:00.005-05:00

I'm not a big fan of sweeping so I use a vacuum on my non-carpet floors a few times a week. I despise mopping even more so I use a steamer, but because the steamer is a bit of work to get it out and filled with water, I only do this once a month or so, with some I spot cleaning in between. With no crawling babies right now, this schedule works pretty good for me.

So yesterday was the big day to sanitize the floors with the steamer. What a good feeling that was. My monthly chore was completed. That good feeling lasted until today when Joseph came running to me saying that he had had an accident. This was on the heels of a crashing sound coming from the kitchen.

I walk into the kitchen to find some sort of liquid spilled all over the floor. As I looked around, my eyes finally settled on the source, and I let out a sigh. My kitchen floor, clean only 24 hours earlier, was not splattered with easy-to-cleanup water, or non-staining apple juice or unoffending cold coffee, but a marinade mixture that had covered raw chicken an hour earlier.

With fear in his voice, Joseph repeated that it was an accident. I calmly told him that it was okay and explained that I often spilled things in the kitchen. It wasn't a big deal and I'd just clean it up. And I did. With the cumbersome steamer. And as I cleaned I thought about how my love for Joseph didn't diminish because of this incident. Of course, that seems obvious, but how often do I avoid prayer because I'm afraid to face the Lord with the sins I've committed? I find myself buying into the lie that God wouldn't want to talk to me until I first make a good Confession.

However, as I heard the remorse in Joseph's voice, I was moved with mercy, not anger. The mess was easy enough to cleanup. The relationship between my son and me, and the way he felt about his mistake was far more important than a little spilled salmonella. It never ceases to amaze me the many ways that God shows Himself through my small children.

BXVI Pearls of Wisdom

2008-07-17T17:51:00.003-05:00

Being the political junkie that I am, this quote from Pope Benedict XVI during his World Youth Day trip made me cheer out loud (albeit to no one in particular since I was alone as I read it.)

"If God is irrelevant to public life, then society will be shaped in a godless image, and debate and policy concerning the public good will be driven more by consequences than by principles grounded in truth."

Too smart for my own good

2008-07-17T17:47:00.004-05:00

Me: Please don't drop your cup on the floor.
Four year old: I didn't.
Me (exasperated): But you did. I sat right here and watched you.
Four year old: But I didn't. Gravity did.

Please and Thank You...and Good

2008-07-14T10:05:00.002-05:00

After giving Joseph apple juice this morning:

Me: "What do you say?"
Him: "Good."

I'm so glad that all of my hard work is paying off.

Back to a simpler time

2008-07-12T15:03:00.004-05:00

The town we moved into recently is a small town. The church bells ring at noon, 3 o'clock and 6 o'clock. The crime rate is negligible. Neighbors not only wave, they actually bring you some cake they baked that day...just because. It's the kind of small town that when I went to the dentist for the first time after we moved, the receptionist told me she loved the inside of our house because she was friends with the previous owner. Things are slower here. Everyone knows everyone, and what's more is that everyone helps everyone. Selfishness is taken in smaller doses, proportionate to the size of the town.

And then there was today. In our small town, we heard loud bell-like music playing songs like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (also known as The ABCs) and When the Saints Go Marching in. These classics were coming from a good old-fashioned ice cream truck driving slowly down each road to alert the kids to come and share in a summer treat.

And while the prices might be more than a nickel now, the nostalgia is priceless.

Not really getting it

2008-07-07T19:07:00.004-05:00

After repeatedly telling our 4 year old not to stand on his chair, it finally happened: he tipped over and fell flat on the floor. After we made sure he was okay, Kraig explained that that is why we don't stand on chairs.

Of course, in usual Joseph fasion, he responded, "Why?" His Dad explained it one more time while I looked away and rolled my eyes.

Five minutes into dinner, still thinking about it, Joseph asked, "Well, what soft thing can we put there so I won't get hurt when I stand on my chair?"

"These years go by fast"

2008-07-06T00:57:00.005-05:00

I hear this from everyone older than me who has kids.

"Treasure these times. They grow up fast. "

"Before you know it, they'll be in college."

"You'll miss them when their gone."

Really? I'll miss them when their gone? That's an interesting theory. Unfortunately, one that I don't foresee myself testing out anytime in the next twenty years!

20 years. It just seems like forever even though at the end of most days, I'm not sure where the time went. And the roughest weeks even seem short in retrospect. By the time Christmas rolls around each year, I find myself thinking, "Feels like we just celebrated Christmas not long ago, and here we are again."

But time is only fast when you are looking backwards, not ahead. In fact, it seems to go by the fastest when I'm sleeping. All other times, especially four hour car trips with three children who don't yet know how to read, seem longer than they actually are. And so, I've often thought that people who say things like, "These years are so short." are lying. But I don't think that anymore. I think that hindsight, being 20/20 and all, gives them perspective that I simply don't have right now. But, some days, I can't wait to get it. Some days I pray for it. Okay, most days.

I'm glad for each day that God gives me with my small children, though -- if not in appreciation of their smallness just yet, at least in appreciation for the opportunity for me to be more childlike for Heaven.

Happy Birthday, America!

2008-07-03T18:47:00.013-05:00

THANK YOU:

...to all of the men and women who have and continue to bravely serve this country.

...to all of those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for this country.

...to all of the spouses and children who sacrifice memories for this country.

It is because of you that America is celebrating her 232nd birthday. May God bless you.

And may God Bless America.

Apparently I didn't provide enough paper at craft time

2008-06-25T09:08:00.003-05:00

Hey, have you heard about this new thing called an mp3?

2008-06-21T15:15:00.005-05:00

Having children over four years ago has evidently made me immune to techology advancing all around me. Kraig and I just bought an mp3 player, two of them actually. Huh. There's a whole world of music and other digitally-enhanced media that has progressed since I got married. I guess I knew this was happening behind my back, or maybe right in front of me, but I chose not to look.

So today in no time at all, I downloaded (or "dl'd" if you're in the know) 85 songs in short order. And I'm not nearly done. I see a lot of possibilities here: a little noise vacation from the children, a little pick-me-up during the day, noise block-out device, trip down memory lane, "I'm-sorry-kids-I-can't-hear-you instrument, and one air guitar-playing, crazy-dancing fool.

It's nice, though, when I think about what I've been missing. While this will provide me some outlet that I didn't have before, I would gladly do without it if I had to choose between my techologically hip life before marriage and now.

Gifts for Mommy

2008-06-20T13:22:00.004-05:00

As I lay Jonathan down for his nap this afternoon, he handed me a gift as I kissed his forehead: a warm, soggy handful of crackers from his morning snack four hours earlier.

Jonathan is built like a linebacker (or whatever position has really big men who tackle other men carrying a ball.) At first glance he looks chubby, especially when standing next to his lanky older brother, but upon further inspection, he's solid. Rock solid, with broad shoulders already at 2 years old.

Anyway, if you just look at him, you might surmise that he eats all day long, but he doesn't. He does ask for food all day long, but at the end of each day as I go from room to room picking up, I find trails of uneaten snacks: broken in pieces between the cushions, stuffed into Lego holes, mixed with water on the deck to create whatever a young imagination can think up.

So, I smiled as I accepted his gift and gave him another kiss in gratitude.

"Anatomy": by a four year old

2008-06-20T08:36:00.003-05:00

This morning I asked Joseph if he would like to draw a thank you note to his Auntie and family for giving him and his brother some bikes. Joseph excitedly said, "Yes! We can draw the family and first we can give them the bones and then the blood and muscles and after that we can squeeze in the brains!"

Did I mention this was at the breakfast table? Not knowing quite how to respond, but not wanting to burst his inspiration, I weakly agreed that would be a good idea as I took another bite of my toast.

This was from the same child who announced at the dinner table 3 weeks earlier, "It's okay if I take one bone out of me because all of my other bones will keep me from being floppy!"

Self pity, balance, and suffering

2008-06-18T19:10:00.008-05:00

Some weeks are better than others, but this would not be one of them. Usually, I cope quite well with the trail of toys from one end of the house to the other, mysterious "water" puddles in the bathroom, Crayola "washable" paint on my carpet, chalk on the my screen door, mud in my porch, and my stomach being used as a human Kleenex. Yes, usually, I do "cope" quite well with all of that by promptly putting my children to bed at 7pm and falling down in exhaustion until the next day. This week however, there is a little more yelling than usual...by me. And a little more crying than usual...also by me. We all have colds, my husband is traveling more than usual, and my postpartum hormones are taking me on a "fun" roller coaster ride.

I've been trying to adjust my attitude by thinking about the thousands of flood victims, people starving in other countries, people who are suffering untold illnesses, and even those in my own family who are struggling with various difficulties right now. But despite all of that, still I cling to my self pity and small problems as if I'm carrying the weight of the world.

Will my children ever grow up? Will I ever sleep through the night again? Will I be dressing little people and washing dirty faces until they are 18? Will I ever not have to repeat myself 15 thousand times just to have one task completed? Why me? Why would God think I was even remotely qualified? And when I spilled coffee all over my counter, I thought, "I didn't even drink coffee before I had kids." Yes, it was that bad.

Oh, but how I enjoy those thoughts. Self pity is my worst enemy. It's one of those sins that I hate to give up. I suppose at the core of it is selfishness, which is probably why God does keep blessing me with children. I can't imagine anything else in life for which I would give up so much of myself without complaint. My problem really lies in imbalance. When I don't find time to recharge myself throughout the day, then I feel depleted of energy. And when I don't have energy, I don't have anything to give to my children. I suppose it could be likened to a starving animal protecting his one last morsel of food from other animals. My morsel of food is my selfishness.

But tonight I took 10 minutes away from the chaos just to think. And I prayed. And my prayer was answered by a thought that finally did move me out of my rut of self pity. And that thought was this: there will always be suffering in life. There will never be a time when there is not some sort of suffering in my life. And if the only suffering I can boast of right now is that of two extremely demanding toddlers and a messy house, then I have absolutely no right to complain about anything. I do need to be more balanced in giving myself more time alone, but I need not spend so much time thinking about myself as a martyr when I have blessings all around me.

Form letter faux pas

2008-06-14T16:41:00.001-05:00

We recently moved to a new town. Our new church just sent us a form letter detailing our contributions from the last six months. Under each month, the amount listed was zero, since we haven't been parishoners that long. But what caught our attention was this statment at the bottom of the letter, "Thank you for your past support. Your contributions are greatly appreciated. They are an indication of your love for Jesus."

My Poor Mother

2008-06-14T16:21:00.001-05:00

Over the years, I have given my Mother grief -- albeit in jest, but grief none the less -- because there are so few baby pictures of me compared to my siblings. My Mother's reason for this discrepancy is because of a broken camera during my early childhood years.

I am the third of four children, and I now find myself having just given birth to my own third-born a few months ago...without a camera. My trusty Canon just captured its last 3.2 megapixel shot last week. Ah, the irony. Truth be told, with each child, I've found that the time I have to actually find my camera, let alone take pictures has exponentially decreased. And so be it because I realize now that my Mother's love and attention when I was a child was a better investment than more pictures anyway.

So here I sit waiting for my new trusty 8 megapixel camera...on backorder for five weeks! The cruel irony. Let it be known that I shall never judge my Mother's lack of picture taking of her favorite child again. Well, at least not for the next five weeks.

Oh, now I understand

2008-06-13T14:07:00.001-05:00

Lately, when I state a fact for my two year old, Jonathan, he often responds with the opposite. So, it goes something like this:

Me: "Jonathan, please don't touch that knife, it's sharp."
Him: "No, it's not."

Well, the other day, I got a glimpse of the two year old brain at work when I heard this:

Me: "Jonathan, don't throw food on the floor. It makes the floor dirty."
Him: "No, it doesn't." Followed by, "Eenie, meenie, minie, moe. Catch a tiger then let it go."

Okay, so he didn't get the rhyme exactly right, but I think it's all about "eenie, meenie, minie, moe" for him. The back and forth. I say something, he says something. He's playing a game. And here all this time, I thought he was talking back. Silly me.

Perfectionism

2008-06-13T13:18:00.000-05:00

I've often wondered why God, in all of His wisdom, gave me these three precious blessings before I was a really good and perfect parent. If He wants me to help them get to Heaven, doesn't it just make sense that He give me all of the answers right up front? I mean, with such an important charge I don't find anything less than perfectionism unreasonable.

But here I am with them, and here they are with me. Unperfect, all of us. Ahem, I mean, imperfect, all of us. And as they grow, I can see that they are changing for the better. None of the bad behavior lasts forever. They are learning from the consequences we give them. And so it goes with God and me. God, in all of his perfect wisdom, is using my little imperfect children to transform me from a selfish, impatient person to a selfless, patient person. Okay, a less selfish, semi-patient person.

And what I am finding is that I have an expectation of God to just give me the virtues I seek. But the reality is that He gives me opportunities to practice those virtues. And He gives me the grace to not squander those opportunities. It's not happening overnight. And it's not how I would do it because it's not always perfect. But by practicing the virtues, we are earning them. And anyone who has ever paid for something themselves instead of having it given to them values the thing all the more. And so it is with virtues. When we have attained them, the way we see the truth in our own dignity is raised to the level that God sees us. And don't we get a glimpse of God's love for us in this way? Besides, practice isn't all that bad; after all, it makes perfect.