Weighing In...

On the whole Sarah Palin nomination.

I have to admit, I am not turning cartwheels.

I know, go ahead and flog me. The majority of my wonderful bloggy-mom friends can't express their joy sufficiently.

Me? I am only cautiously happy.

It's most certainly not because I think Moms don't belong in politics. For heaven's sake, we are on the front lines of politics every darn day, just by living our very daily lives in the very public society that politics creates.

It's not because I think Mrs. Palin belongs at home with her children. That decision is best left up to her. I have a hard enough time figuring out my own path in this vocation, I most definitely will not go around pointing fingers at others and telling them what I think they should do.

So, what is it?

I'm worried. Worried that America is not ready for a woman at the (potential) helm. Worried that her meager two years as governor is not enough experience. Worried that the good ol' boys, the mid-western farmers that I rely so heavily on to uphold the common-sense aspect of American politics, will rebel and refuse to vote for a woman.

And mainly? I'm worried because as a mom, I can identify with Sarah Palin. Almost too much. All moms can. We know the pain, the suffering, the joy and the fulfillment of being a mom with young children. We are all right in the midst of it. And while I am sure she must be some sort of mutant supermom to accomplish all she does, the superhero status she holds in my mind does not seem to be enough for me... not yet, anyway.

I don't know if I'm comfortable with a VP that is so close... so close to being the many moms I hold in high esteem. (that's right , Elizabeth, in 4 years, it might be you!)

:)

I am so grateful for the staunchly pro-life message this choice brings to the ticket. I will vote for her and McCain, no doubt about it. Maybe I just need some time to get used to it? (is there anyone else out there who... paused before whooping it up?)

I just hope that McCain has not taken too big of a gamble, and that the rest of America rises to the occasion and sees this ticket for what it is. Not just a historic yee-haa for women and mothers everywhere, but most especially, for the hope it brings the unborn.

Just Because I Want to Remember...

Little Dear and Sports Fan are right now walking around the house, fake cigars hanging out of their mouths,(made with aluminum foil, of course) studying the pictures that are hung up on the walls of every room.

What are they playing?

Museum.

I feel so very refined.

:)

Sisters

Best of Friends...

Worst of Enemies...

Bedtime Buddies...

:)

OMGGM...

... stand for "Oh My Goodness Gracious Me."

Of course.

We are wrapping up our first week with our new home school program entitled, "How to turn your mother into a suicidal maniac."

Let's just say that things are well on their way to completing the objective.

:)

There is a huge learning curve for me with this new curriculum. The good news is, I can still tailor a lot of it to what I think is necessary, and avoid what I think is busy-work. Also, since we don't have all of the materials, we can still get credit for Literature if we log in our reading time, and the same goes for the other subjects.

I wonder if they can get science credit by learning the exact proportions needed to make Mama a perfect chemically-balanced gin and tonic?

Hmmm. Maybe not.

:)

Real Life Obscuring Virtual

:)

It's Official

I am blogging without obligation.

Apparently, I'm also stealing buttons without permission.

This one is from the wonderful Love2Learn mom, who just also happens to be an IRL friend, and won't mind if I do.

I hope.

I also hope that my home school curriculum arrives soon. This "flying by the seat of my pants" home schooling is waaayyy too familiar to me, and the whole reason I signed up for this online home school program in the first place, was to avoid the draft on my derrière...

The children, of course, are loving it.

*sigh*
The best laid plans and all that.

:)

Old Letters

While DH was in his hometown this past weekend, he happened upon a stack of letters hidden up in the closet of his bedroom. They are letters I had written to him during our long summer vacations when I was in NY and he was on the other side of the continent.

We perused through them last night. And, I have to say, they are by turns sappy, lovely, and downright hilarious. My favorite parts have to do with the atmosphere of my home during those summer months.

I am the oldest of 6 children. However, there is a 7 year gap between me and my sister, the next closest sibling. It makes for a very interesting dynamic. So, the summer after my freshman year at TAC, I am 20, (I had spent a year at a different college after hs) I have a sister who is 13, another who is 11, my brother is 9, another sister is 4, and my youngest sister is 3.

In a 4 bedroom house, I never really had my "own room" so to speak. I think I ended up sharing with all of my siblings at one time or another.

Throughout my rambling dissertations on life and love and annoying people at work, there are, sprinkled throughout, little mentions of this or that sibling, and their funny sayings and cute habits. At one point I mention that I am sharing a room with my youngest sister, and she "looks so adorable" as she sleeps.

This exchange, though, is by far my favorite:

I have to get ready for dinner, we're having Krista's family over. Yet, I do have my own personal hairdresser. My three-year old sister, Mary, is brushing my hair UP. Lovely. Now she pronounces, "I'm dead." What a loony house! (and here the writing gets very small and scrawling) She's... choking... me... gotta go!

And I laugh out loud, remembering my youngest sister "death-grip" hugs, where we really thought we might lose a brain cell or two as she squeezed the heck out of us with her strong little arms.

What a treasure trove DH has found. I can't wait to read more about those crazy years.

:)

How Ironic...

... that as I wait to hear from my DH as to exactly what flight he will be arriving on tonight, ~having spent a fun weekend with his friends up in Vancouver~

We end up experiencing the exact weather that my Pacific NW DH loves best... and has been oh-so-rare here in North Texas...

RAIN RAIN RAIN

MORE CLOUDS

RAIN RAIN RAIN

Can't wait for him to come home!

:)

Going Solo: In Which Nutmeg Avoids a Trip to the ER

DH being temporarily unavailable, I was stumbling around late last night trying to get my little peanuts to bed. The fact that it was late was my own fault. Action Man and I wanted to watch the Olympics, and the rest of the crew were threatening mutiny until I caved and set them up with The Incredibles upstairs in DH's laptop.

After folding laundry and herding Action Man upstairs to watch the rest of the movie, I jumped in the shower, proud of how well I was making use of my time.

The movie over, we are all in our pj's, and I am making the rounds.
"Action Man, will you please clean up those legos and brush your teeth?"
"Sports Fan do you see what time it is? Move it!"
"Yes, Little Dear, I'll come and say good night. Just a minute!"
"Littles Boo and Love, quit fooling around and stay. in. bed."

Then, suddenly, I hear it.
"Mo-o-om! Little Love needs you. She's crying!"

So, I go see her. Turns out she found a small piece of a leftover Tums on the shelf by her bed and stuck it up her nose.

Lovely.

Now, most Moms would think, "No big deal. She can just blow it out." And that really was my first thought. Until I remembered. Little Love is one out of two of my children (the other being Little Dear) who can not expel anything out of her mouth (or nose), except manymanymanymany words... and vomit.

No kidding.

Little Dear will walk around for days, literally, with a gargly voice, unable to cough it out. We all walk around, clearing our own throats, imploring her to have a good cough and get rid of it already...

And she will try. She throws her head back, takes a deep breath, and..... *gak*. That's the best she can do.

So, I take a deep breath, and bring Little Love to our bathroom and reach f or the tweezers. You know how they say never to stick tweezers up a child's nose? Because you'll just end up pushing the object farther up? Right. I learned that lesson last night.

Next up was the impromptu "how to blow your nose" lesson:
"OK, Little Love, take a deep breath... hold it... now blow out your nose. See? Feel how Mama blows air out her nose? OK, let me hold your mouth shut. Now, Blow! No no no. You were sniffing in. Now, sniff out. Please try again?"

Last resort. Have her suck the melting Tums up her nostril and down the back of her throat. I figured it was almost there anyway. So, I reversed instructions and told her to take a BI-I-IG sniff while I held her other nostril closed.

Little Love obliged, and the Tums came rocketing out across the room.

Happy Ending.

:)

Because God Does Have A Sense of Humor After All

DH being temporarily unavailable yesterday meant that I got to take the kids to the vigil mass by myself. (Yes, he was going to be temporarily unavailable today, too...)

Grimacing, (because I am all about extra penance) I geared the kids up mentally for this wondrous act of suffering feast day celebration.

I combed hair, inspected outfits, made some minor changes, glanced in the mirror, and off we went. Before leaving, I secured some mass-help from a friend who has 6 of her own kids, and figured we could use the divide-and-conquer strategy if either one of us had meltdown in the pew.

Um. of course, I meant if either one of our children had a meltdown in the pew.

Of course.

Anyhoo... being a bit uptight, I arrived 15 minutes early and got a prime spot near the back of the church, on the right hand side. And then watched in horror as my saving grace made her way to the opposite side of church with her 6 kiddos.

Huh, I thought. What is up with that?

Well, I soon found out, in the form of Mr. Quaint and Hard of Hearing usher, who asked most politely if my family and I would take up the gifts, and then pretended to be stone deaf when I tried to whisper my feeble excuse of "having the kids by myself" today....

Right.

We all get to go up and take the gifts together!

Of course. What a smashing idea.

With Sports Fan and Little Dear holding the candles, Action Man holding the wine jug, Little Boo holding the cruet and Little Love her blankie, I gripped the bowl of hosts and we trundled up the aisle.

Now, this is not my regular parish, and since this parish is not as vibrant as ours, the fact that there were children in attendance was quite a novelty. Sometimes that can be a good thing, sometimes not.

Thank goodness... in this case, it was. There were many oohs and ahhs and matronly smiles as we wound our way to the priest. There were a few sighs as we genuflected and then quite a few chuckles as Little Love grabbed my hand, turned me around, and proceeded to genuflect to me.

I know I was as red as a beet, but I was proud of my kids. These shy little ones were able to rise above their discomfort, and "help the priest" as I told them. They saw the need, and they delivered, and did so with grace.

What a simple witness.

:)

Pondering Excerpts

As I attempt to wrap up a few obligations*, including but not limited to my extensive planning for the school year with my peanuts... I have to share some thoughts from this awesome book I am reading: A Civilization of Love by Carl Anderson. (*full review forth-coming)

(T.S.) Eliot found that education had among its purposes both the "formation of character" of the student and the transmission of culture. Indeed, it is precisely through the transmission of culture that the student's character is largely formed.

Aren't our schools digging a deep hole for our children these days?

Such spiritual emptiness was apparent between the two World Wars, and it was not confined to the European continent. Thomas Merton reflects about this time at the University of Cambridge during the 1930s: "What was wrong with this place, with all these people? Why was everything so empty? ...It seemed to me that Cambridge, and, to some extent, the whole of England, were pretending, with an elaborate and intent and conscious, and perhaps in some cases a courageous effort, to act as if it were alive. And it took a lot of acting."

Contrast this with a historical perspective of the "Greatest Generation" who fought valiantly in WWII:

Stephen Ambrose writes: "In my interviews with WWII veterans, they would sometimes tell me that the reason they fought was they had learned as children the difference between right and wrong and they didn't want to live in a world in which wrong prevailed..."

That the "greatest generation" went to war with confidence that right would triumph is no accident of history. (They) may have been one of the greatest examples of what an educational system that built character by transmitting its moral culture can produce.

We have a tall order ahead of us, we home schooling moms. And those of us who do not home school have it even harder. To instill a culture and a character that is all but absent from schools and society these days. To swim upstream against the present culture that is predominantly and forcefully being shoved down our children's throats.

To foster the next "greatest generation."

:)

Stranger Than-

Asked at the dinner table last night:

Little Boo: Are we just people in a book that someone else is writing?

Little Dear: No. People in a book don't move.


Hmmm.

Anyway. DH and I finally did see Stranger Than Fiction the other night. We're only about 10 years behind the likes of Margaret, and may get to see Wall-E sometime before the first decade of the third millenium is over.

Maybe.

We loved STF. I usually despise anything that Will Ferrell stars in, having barely tolerated Talladega Nights. And only because I love my DH deeply. Besides, he didn't like it that much anyway. But this movie had something the other Will Ferrell movies didn't have, like a real plot with a real hero.

So, if you're even further behind the times than I am (like, maybe in the Paleozoic Era) and you haven't seen it, I highly recommend Stranger Than Fiction. Or how about Sleepless in Seattle (another all-time fav) if you really are that out of touch... like us.

:)

An Apology

I never close comments on my blog.

And the fact that I did so yesterday after my dear IRL friend Matilda's comment seemed to suggest that it was to her that I was directing my remarks to. And that was not the case. As anyone here knows, Matilda is always gracious and kind, and never one to stir up the pot.

I am very sorry if my words were harsh and hurtful. It was not my intention at all.


Sheepishly yours,

My Olympic Broadcasters

Little Dear:

I know what Water Polo is! One team says "water!" and the other team answers: "Polo!"

:)

Exactly

What she said.



h/t Elizabeth

:)

Been There

I won't link to the discussions because I refuse to perpetuate them.

But I can so relate to this!

:)

hat tip: Jennifer F

Who Can Blame Me?

If I, in buying a zillion crafts to keep little fingers occupied today, pick up an extra package of severely over-priced glittered stickers, just to be assured that I get to hear Little Love say many times over:

Look, Mama! These are soooo Spah-kah-lee!

:)

Oh, The Power...

...one can wield as the Budget-meister!

Not only can I decide how much to allot for groceries, allowances, and other needed purchases, I also get to label these purchases on my precious excel spreadsheet.

Not impressed?

How about when your DH calls the garage door repairman without consulting the almighty budget-meister and ends up shelling out a whopping $500?!?

The entry on my spreadsheet can now read:

Papa's Fault... $500

:)

But yes, I will admit, my DH, that it is nice to able to open the garage door from inside the car and close it behind me as I leave, as well as pull right back into the shade when we come home.

I know you were only thinking of me and our darling peanuts...

:)

Exhaustion...

... is much sweeter when it is shared. And I don't mean when you go around complaining about it to every person you meet. That is annoying.

No, I mean the kind of exhaustion that occurs because you:
~ Responded to the 4am phone call of a dear friend in need, raced over to her house to keep vigil over her children while she and her husband went to the ER.
~Got to snuggle in the wee hours with your own beloved goddaughter, before you reluctantly put her back to bed.
~Chatted amiably with the oldest child as she deftly changed diapers and helped you get breakfast for her 6 siblings.
~Handed over the reins to the babysitter, all the while praying for a clean bill of health for your dear friend.

And now, the "clean bill" obtained, the dizzying weariness sets in, and the knowledge that at least one other household is in the exact same frame of mind today, is exceedingly comforting.

And since the reason for being bone-tired is not serious, and the honor of having been called upon to render aid in a time of need, is sweeter in knowing this, I can relax and enjoy my day. I am once again "in the trenches," (or "survival mode" as DH and I used to call it after a particularly hard night with one of the littles) and I love the memories it brings to mind, while my heart swells with gratitude that I was able to help one of my beautiful IRL friends.

:)

My "Twins"

Little Dear and Sports Fan are the same age for 3 more days. Hence the seeming "typo" on the side bar.

Who knew?

I have two 8 year olds!

Luckily, Little Dear isn't pressing her advantage. She is still basking in the novelty of her "new age".

Sports Fan, on the other hand, is chomping at the bit, anxious to be on his own again in the age department. He seriously dislikes being the same age as his younger sister, and growls whenever it is mentioned.

I felt much the same way, 8 1/2 years ago, standing in the bathroom with him on my hip, (at the strapping age of 3 months) bawling at the sight of those two little pink lines.

How things change...

Fast forward to 8 years, and I can now see and appreciate this crossroads in which two opposite worlds of boy-stuff and girl-stuff entwine. This junction has helped to form the melting pot that is the personality of our home. It has become more frequent that I look up from my chores to see that all 5 of my children are playing out the same scenario, together. We have Indians who need tea, cowboys who hang laundry, and ranchers who bake. Princesses have been known to pick up rifles and beat back intruders, while maids shoot bows and arrows at those pesky robbers. Sometimes the girls are captured, while other times it is the boys who are the willing prisoners.

At the center of all of this hullabaloo are my "twins", the gentle Sports Fan and the exuberant Little Dear... directing battles, tending wounds, and yelling out orders. Little Dear arranges the tea while Sports Fan guards the fort. And then later on it is Sports Fan who gets Little Love the ice pack while Little Dear leads the charge.

The beauty of "Irish Twins"... I'm so grateful God has given me the chance to experience it.

:)

My Ears are Ringing

Yeah.

Kind of regretting this particular purchase for Little Boo's birthday. That along with the whistle she bought herself at the bookstore, it's been an advil-every-eight-hours kind of weekend.

Luckily, she also received some quieter playthings, including a very cute furry gerbil... Chewie II, having been through the heartbreak of losing Chewie I to an untimely death.

No, we were not able to find one of these.

But a wooden jewelry box seemed to be a suitable substitution.

She's so beautiful, my Little Boo.

May she never lose her spirit.










:)

My New Job Title...

... is the "Budget-meister."

A month ago, DH forced upon me gently handed me the reins to the family budget and wished me luck.

With a smirk on his handsome face.

During that first trial period, after paying the bills, and watching in horror as our available balance sank like the Titanic, DH would saunter up to me and ask smugly....

"So, do you think we could buy a new... rug/faucet set/pool/dishwasher/car?"

I would give him the look of death and hunch back over the keyboard, furiously crunching the numbers, to make sure we didn't go NSF on any of our payments. Every day as he left for work I would remind him....

"Remember, we have no money... 'K? None. NADA."

The amusement in his eyes was maddening.

You see, He has been playing the devil's advocate, to get back at me for the years of my money mis-management in which I had forced him to borrow from the proverbial Peter to pay Paul. Nothing serious like maxed out credit cards or collections calls, but more of just a real lack of awareness on my part as to how difficult it had been for him to balance everything out, paycheck to paycheck.

So, I bear him no ill will for this bit o' fun he is having with me as I come to the full realization of exactly how tight things are for the Nut House these days. It has been a good thing, after all, since we are now united in our efforts to save and cut back, instead of my DH being the bad guy all the time, in having to say no. Now we consult together, and plan our projects out in advance according to time and resources available.

But I am not above giving him a stern look and maybe even a quick swat if he dares to mention making a trip to L*wes or that other Orange Store without consulting The Royal Budget-meister first.

:)