Domestic Bliss Report

Sometimes I'm really, really bad.

2011-12-01T11:10:00.001-08:00

Not "eat a whole cake" bad. Bad-wife-and-mother bad.

I will throw my beloved husband's clean clothes--that *I* washed, dried, and carried up in the hamper--right on the floor. Why? To beat him to it. If I leave them on the bed, hoping he'll take the time and initiative to put them away, he will simply shift them from the bed to the floor. Why did I put them on the bed in the first place? Because I have at least three other people's laundry to put away--Elizabeth's, Tommy's, and my own. I still have to sort and fold Lou's, then hand him each pile with specific instructions: "Put this in your pants drawer." I assume my loving, otherwise-attentive, intelligent husband will respect my time and energy and put his own clothes away.

I will not clean up after my older kids. I will let their rooms get almost dangerously impassable in their floor clutter of laundry, books, toys, and various other items before I harangue them to clean it up. I will not remind them to bring down their laundry for weeks, until they run out of weather-appropriate clothes. Then I will leave them to stew in their frostbite or sunstroke, waiting for the realization of "Maybe if I put my clothes where Mom will wash them, I wouldn't suffer like this." It doesn't happen.

It's a good thing they obey the rule of "No food in the bedrooms" or we'd have more ants than an African tree up there.

Right now there is a shirt with pasta sauce on it on the floor of the girls' room, along with the past 3 days' worth of socks, underwear, and other apparel. The shirt went there at the end of lunch today. I'm debating letting it stay until one of the following: a) it starts to stink, b) she notices, c) it comes down on its own. It probably won't get that far but that's where I am today.

I leave their clothes on the floor of the bathroom until it has more than their closet. They will stay there even when the perpetrator has to dig through them to get the shoes on the bottom of the pile. Nowhere will it cross the child's mind to get rid of the pile, nor will the child who tidies the bathroom address it.

Why? This is the really hard part. They don't see it. Well, yes, their eyes take them in, but those things don't register. They really don't.

I remember the commercial where there was a laundry basket floating down a flight of stairs, a broom whisking across a floor by itself, that kind of thing. The idea was the person (mother) doing those tasks was invisible. Sometimes I feel silent too, for as often as my words are ignored. It doesn't matter if I'm answering a question, either. I may as well be just moving my lips.

I just had to get that rant out of my system. Thomas needs to be fed.

At least *he* appreciates what I do.

Been a while, I know.

2010-04-28T17:48:00.000-07:00

But I have to get this out of my head.
She needs to be fed. He needs his diaper changed. The table needs clearing. She needs a bowl, then cereal, then milk poured. He needs reminding to come to the table. She needs reminding to get dressed, then her teeth brushed. She needs her hair braided. She needs feeding, then her diaper changed, then cuddling. He needs a sippy of milk. He needs reminding to get dressed. They all need reminding to brush their teeth. They all need hugs and blown kisses when Daddy leaves.
The dishes need washing, the laundry needs folding, the table needs clearing. She needs help with her math, he needs help with his spelling, she needs to know the weather before she can dress. He needs a diaper changed--"Boo den!" he says, turning around--because he "pooped again."
Lunch needs preparing, table needs clearing again, she needs feeding again. Lunch needs to be eaten. Diapers need to be changed again, they need refereeing over space, he needs a nap and she needs feeding again. Toys need to be put away, dishes need washing, they need help with geography or reading or science. Dinner needs planning, bills need paying, they need reminding to put on soccer uniforms and then a ride to their game. He needs his shoes tied. Diapers need changing, water bottles need filling, snacks need to be carried. She needs entertaining, eyedrops, and a sweater. He needs his harness and leash.
They need a ride home, and baths, and pajamas, and a story. He needs his medicine again. Then they need reminders to brush their teeth again and to go to bed.

And tomorrow, they'll need it all over again. I know someday they won't need me for all of this. They'll grow up and call weekly, and I'll miss these days of ever-present needs. Right now, though, it's exhausting to be so needed.

Here we go...again?

2009-10-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, Wednesday, is the Big Day. Elizabeth gets born one way or another. If she is head-down or willing to get that way, it'll be the same old, same old. I'll get 600mg ibuprofen and ice packs, home on Friday, Mass on Sunday, etc.

If she won't comply, she'll be surgically removed. [Yes, I'm trying to be lighthearted.] I'll get stitches and Vicodin, still home on Friday. After that I have no idea how I'll recover. I've been reassured that it's not the end of the world but I'm only human. I fear the unknown, same as I was afraid before Madeleine's delivery.

My biggest fear is, as with any mother, complications that could endanger my child. Regardless of how she exits the womb and enters the world, I would really appreciate the prayers.

Disappointed but hopeful

2009-10-08T08:44:00.000-07:00

So I was supposed to have a baby yesterday. And didn't.

Tuesday we got word that I'm Group Beta Strep positive this time around; I was for Madeleine too, and my doc just treated me for Dale and Rachel. The consequences for that are two doses of IV antibiotics before my water is broken and staying 48 hours after birth to make sure the baby is okay.

Well, before they started the IV, a scan was done on Elizabeth where we got an unpleasant surprise. She'd flipped herself into a breech position, where two weeks before she'd been head-down. I managed not to burst into tears but everyone in the room could tell I was disappointed and upset. The only one who knew I was scared too was my beloved husband.
My OB called and we talked about it. I spent the night at the hospital, got the antibiotics, and we hoped she'd flip back. She didn't so I came back home. Doc would have given me a C if I'd insisted, she might have tried to flip her first, but her opinion was to give Elizabeth a week to turn back on her own. I don't have blood pressure or diabetes issues, Elizabeth has been small throughout, it's my fifth delivery so I have four other kids at home to take care of, I'm only 38 weeks and change. There really wasn't a medically necessitating reason for a Caesarean.
I so wanted to deliver yesterday. My husband in his wisdom pointed out, "We agreed to an induction today. We didn't agree to a c-section today, with all that entails."

So I'm back home, still pregnant. I'm a touch nervous about going into labor before next Wednesday, which is Delivery Day For Sure. If she's flipped, it will be a regular induction. If not, we'll try to flip her but I may well be looking at a c-section. While I admit, I find that scary, I know others who have had one, two, three... even five. At least this way I've got time to prepare myself for it, where Tuesday night is was a dismaying surprise.

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

2009-10-08T08:20:00.000-07:00

Seasonal wardrobe changes are happening here, which is really the most laborious and least important task. Figuring out what might fit next summer, what should be packed away for the next child, what can be donated, what should be thrown away, for four different wardrobes.
Sometimes I question the practicality and ease of hand-me-downs, despite the financial savings.

Anyway, it has come to light that Rachel has at least a dozen different winter dresses for church. No exaggeration. That doesn't include sleeveless summer ones that she says she could layer; that bumps the number up to something like 18. Neither does that include play clothes--jeans and sweatshirts, etc. The good point is that leaves more room in Santa's sack for toys come Christmas.
Lou's wardrobe is the same way, though he doesn't have dresses. He wants for nothing clothing-wise except maybe socks or shoes. It's quite stunning, the embarrassment of abundance these kids deal with.

Madeleine and Dale, though, probably could use a few things--her more than him, too. He needs his drawers cleaned out more than to receive anything. That does need to happen first, as well. At least the girls are done, Lou's done.

I've got the kitchen table covered with pink baby stuff; Elizabeth should be equipped when she makes her debut. That's a post all its own.

On skinned knees and wing clipping

2009-09-25T11:39:00.000-07:00

In a strange convergence of circumstances, we've had some pretty profound discussions. Maybe I'm the only one who sees the parallels. I've been brewing this post for a couple weeks now.

Last Tuesday we had our homeschooling Catholic moms' Bible study. The girls--there are three eight-year-olds--donned helmets and went riding bikes around the block. It's a small block, maybe four or five houses per side, and they've walked it before in a large group (six kids or so?). Nonetheless I was a touch nervous as Madeleine hasn't done much turning on her bike. Of course, she returned with a skinned knee.
I had thought of this before. Knees covered in Band-aids are a staple of childhood, like splinters and mosquito bites. To attempt to prevent them, protect them completely from those things.... Down that road lay madness.
She didn't cry as I washed it, dabbed it with ointment, and bandaged it though there were some deep shuddering sighs and pinkish around the eyes. She did inform me later that it hurt some as we knelt for bedtime prayers; I figured some bruising on impact made sense and gave her a pass for a few days. Life goes on.

I've since finished reading E. B. White's Trumpet of the Swan during quiet time (Lou's naptime) as well. There is a chapter entitled "Freedom" near the end, where Louis (the main swan) and his love are offered perfect--and permanent--safety at a zoo. They will always have enough to eat, no danger of otter, fox, or other predators. The cost is Serena is pinioned--she gets a wing clipped and can no longer fly. Louis chooses freedom, the ability to go from the pond in Canada to the lake in Montana as the seasons dictate. He recognizes and accepts the risk of being hunted or not having enough food. It seems a simple enough choice. I pointed that dilemma out to the kids; they seemed thoughtful.

Also a couple weeks ago, as some readers already know, Dale's and my 11-year-old nephew was set upon by a dozen thugs who did enough damage to send him to the hospital. This is not a boy who shoots his mouth off or goes looking for trouble; he wasn't out after dark or in what would be recognized as a troubled area. He was walking around his neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon with his 9-year-old sister.
I was asked, "Where were any adults?" My guess is at home though their father may have been at work; perhaps one was grocery shopping. I'm not sure exactly where they should have been; to me, it seems a bit extreme to escort an 11-year-old and a 9-year-old around their own neighborhood.

Or is it? Since her birthday, coincidentally the same day as the assault, Madeleine has been permitted to walk the quarter mile to the party store on the corner alone. She's gone twice to get a gallon of milk. Yes, both times I watched the clock for the 20 minutes she was gone, keeping an ear cocked for her return while getting Lou down for his nap.
Am I leaving her vulnerable to such an attack? Should I be accompanying her still, an 8-year-old and me at over 8 months pregnant? When does "protective" become "paranoid"? Where is the line between clipping her wings and responsible parenting, and how many skinned knees will we have before she can fly?

She's growing up, and it's official.

2009-09-07T19:08:00.000-07:00

Madeleine's birthday was yesterday. She's now 8 years old.

She's tall for her age--in the 75th percentile, at last check with the doc. She changes diapers because sometimes, Lou wants her to do it and nobody else. She will make lunch for her siblings of peanut butter sandwiches, or breakfast of toast and fruit. She's getting too big to cuddle in my lap anymore, though Elizabeth is contributing to that too.

And today, she got her ears pierced.

She's wanted it for a while, but we said "Twelve." My sister had my niece's done when she was a baby; I don't know about her younger daughter. I dated a guy who said you get it done then because they don't feel it. (I think that's nonsense, myself.) I told him if we had daughters, he could do it in the garage with an ice pick but the girl had to be old enough to ask.

The cuddles at bedtime are getting harder and harder. I'm not getting any bigger (well, except the belly) and she's certainly not getting smaller. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to do it. With her growing, though, I didn't want "growing up" to be all about losing things. So, I brought it up to Daddy yesterday evening and he did a gut-check for the "ick" factor, then gave his approval.

I want to record the tiny details of the day--how the cashier at Sears directed us right to Claire's. How we sat on the bench outside the store because it hadn't opened for business yet. How the manager (I'll call her Claire, because I don't know her name) radiated patience and understanding, even through her lip piercing. How she actually looked at my photo ID before any paperwork, how she didn't even bother with the disposable gloves until I'd filled it out. How Maddie and I found a perfect compromise on starter earrings (she wanted the rainbow daisies, I leaned toward sapphire studs; the sapphire daisies made us both happy). How Claire checked and re-marked her lobes and got my approval. How Madeleine squeezed my hands as the girl counted, "One, two, three"--thunk, then opened her eyes and said, "That's it?" How her eyes dried up before her second ear was done. How her voice sounded on the phone to her daddy when she told him it was done. How many times she said, "I got my ears pierced" to nobody in particular today.

I knew it wouldn't mean she's completely grown up, a fact brought home by the rest of the day. Her enthusiasm for her Littlest Pet Shop themed plates, her delight in putting the sprinkles on her cake, her gratitude for the two American Girl outfits (soccer and gymnastics) she received, her joy at her friend coming over for an extended playdate/party. Those are things little girls still like. For now, those are enough.

The Birthday Girl, on her birthday, with our first harvested pumpkin. I'm so proud of you.

Busier than a one-legged cat...

2009-09-02T07:53:00.000-07:00

...trying to bury turds on a frozen pond.

Questions I've Answered in the Past Week:
1. Is Rudolph real?
2. But how did the baby get in there?
3. Why does poop come out your butt? (This by far was the easiest and most fun to answer, even at the lunch table.)
4. What is gold made of? (This one wasn't bad either, especially since the asker had already read a bit about atoms and elements.)

We have started up to school now for a couple weeks, and Rachel is officially in kindergarten. Well, for reading she's in first grade, but she's only doing four subjects a day and is done in about an hour.

Dale's math "problem" has been kind of resolved. I'm looking ahead in the math book to avoid redundant pages, for one. Only doing one page a day as well. Those new habits have helped. We also found and bought a Soma cube and a tangram puzzle set, which Madeleine is also intrigued by. Won't do her any harm, either.

We had Madeleine take the CAT test this past June; her first time taking a fill-in-the-oval test. She did typical of homeschoolers--her lowest score was still a grade above. She was counted as second grade, ninth month and her "worst" score was third grade, eighth month. A couple things she topped out the meter---word analysis, spelling, social studies, and launguage expression. As to her composite for the total battery, her grade equivalent was 5.7. Yeah, this is the child who needed two years of kindergarten. And yes, I still laugh at that.

Elizabeth is fine, though carrying her around all the time is starting to take its toll. In church, I can sing or stand--not both or I get too short of breath. My next appointment is scheduled for Sept. 11. Then I'll go in on a Wednesday morning for a final check ultrasound and to schedule induction. Given this is my fifth delivery with this doc, I'm predicting a date of October 7. Five weeks to go, folks.

Last note: my "book club" partner, for those who don't know already via Facebook, is my beloved husband. We see each other regularly, we both love to read, neither of us fear big or impressive books. Last summer we both read the Harry Potter series, so why not? I brought it up to him at dinner and he seemed positive. When I told him my idea for a reading list (Kolbe's curriculum), he liked that idea too. I even went so far as to say he could choose the first book and we could alternate after that. He had ordered us each Fagle's translation of The Iliad before we got the kids in the bath that evening. Since I can gauge his enthusiasm for an idea by how quickly he acts on it, I'm thinking he really likes it.

I've squeezed in that much blogging today; let's try to get some sheets taken care of and dishes washed. A woman's work is never done...

Does this count as a "book club?"

2009-08-25T19:30:00.000-07:00

I've long been a bit intimidated by Kolbe's book list and curriculum. I sold my husband on it because it was the education I wish I'd had, but each year we get closer to high school increased my anxiety just a smidge. No, I wasn't losing sleep about it... yet. Madeleine's only in third grade, after all.
To reduce my worries, I have picked up some of the books the kids will be reading. I could read them and understand what was going on, but I felt like I was missing something. I tried joining an online classics reading club, but that... didn't work out. To be perfectly frank, think of the level of comments on newspaper articles. Yup. Only this time on works of literature.
Being the book fiend that I am, and raising more, we hit a bookstore this weekend. The education and workbook section was right next to the children's section so I didn't even need much of my designated "browse alone" time. I found "The Well-Educated Mind: A Guide to the Classical Education You Never Had," by Susan Wise Bauer. I read the back cover and knew it was coming home.
In the first chapter, Bauer points out the study of literature has existed outside of universities for quite a long time. Women's groups would gather in someone's parlor and they'd talk about books; handwritten journals were written about them; no professors were involved (except maybe as guests like anyone else). [As I write that, I remember the salons that Richelieu tried to control back in his time. Yeah, living room lit studies have been around a while.]
She posits that all one needs is the books, an appropriate reading level, the time for the reading, a journal to record one's thoughts about the book, and someone to discuss them with. Five things, some harder than others depending on the day.
Books--library or Amazon. Easy.
Appropriate reading level--I wasn't worried, especially after the simple "paragraph test" she had on pages 25-26.
Journal--does a blog count?
Time--I've kept a list of books finished each year since Christmas arrived once and I felt downtrodden. It's been 18-24 a year.
Now, for someone to discuss them with.... [Facebook friends who already know the answer--sh!]

There's various moms' groups I belong to. Our homeschooling group is wonderful but our interests are so varied, along with our time to give to such a project. We're talking about over 200 families, folks; while there would probably be some interest, setting a time that would be good for enough of us would be trickier than I feel like dealing with. Besides, one of the wonderful aspects is we don't have required or obligatory meetings; to have a book club would kind of throw a monkey wrench into things.
The Catholic homeschooling moms' group already has a book on apologetics. The dozen or so of us has felt a need for that background, so we've already got a book.
The parish moms' group is wonderful for support for motherhood, but homeschooling... not as much. We have a wide variety of reading tastes.

Okay, Gentle Reader. Where could I go for an intelligent person, likes to read, not intimidated by big books, that I could see on a regular basis without twisting anyone's schedules out of whack? I'll keep you in suspense; put your guesses in the combox.

Thoughts on socialization and homeschooling

2009-08-21T13:06:00.000-07:00

Recently I've had a couple conversations with non-homeschoolers, two of which touched on that tired old bugaboo of "socialization." In three years and change, I've used up my patience with that topic and I let the Sarcasmotron come on. If I think too much about it, I'll fear what I'll be like in a few more years. Maybe I'll just breathe fire. Or laugh uproariously; fewer lawsuits that way.

To the first, I managed to be somewhat polite. "How many times did you hear at school that you're there to learn, not socialize?" As we were chatting online, I couldn't actually hear him chuckle but he admitted I has a point.

The second time was a touch different, though still chatting online. After asking about the possibility of scholarships--a reasonable and valid concern, after all--I was asked, "How do they learn social skills?"
I was more tired. I started a politely worded reply, but scratched it. Out came, "I'm not sure. I'm so busy running them to two different soccer teams, dance class (well, two are in Musical Theater this year), art class, American Heritage Girls, Vacation Bible School, flag football, park days and play dates that I really don't have time to worry about it."
That dropped the topic but I believe he got my point.

Most recently of all, I was talking with another soccer mom about homeschooling. While her kids attend public school, she's very understanding of the idea of homeschooling. I showed her some of the catalogs of materials available and she was very impressed.
"Most parents don't realize that they need to supplement their kids' education. They aren't getting everything they need at school; you HAVE to supplement," she said.
I'm going to ask her how much she's supplementing and doing homework with her kids. If she's already feeling like she needs to do that, why is she sending her kids to school? At least she's not paying twice for their education by sending them to private school, but still. That's one of the reasons I started down this road--I knew there would be things I wanted my kids to know and they wouldn't learn them at school (religion mostly, but there was more).

I'll let you know how this turns out.

UPDATE 8/25/09: A sincere thank you, Amy, for another response. "So appropriate socialization is spending 8 hours or more a day with children within the same year of age doing exactly the same thing, according to the instructions of a lone adult in the room? Sounds... odd."

Math games/toys bleg

2009-08-20T07:33:00.000-07:00

Dale is good at math. He started the kindergarten book when he was around 3, I think, because it was yellow. Scoop was his favorite character in his favorite show so it made sense to me.

Now he's 6 and has started the second grade book. He gets the concepts with ease--time, money, fractions, even multiplication from his sister--not a problem. I think he gets bored before he gets stumped. Therein lay the problem.

So I'm looking for puzzles, games, toys, etc. that will capitalize on this. We already have Cuisenaire rods and I have plans to get those out more often. I remember these puzzles from when I was younger. They were about the size of a Rubik's Cube and involved putting three-dimensional pieces back into the clear box. Different colors were different degrees of difficulty--yellow was the easiest; white and blue were harder. I think there were red and green, too.
I can't Google or eBay them because I don't remember what they were called. Anyone else know what I'm talking about?

I don't want to just add busywork; as a former school teacher, homeschooler, and parent I know "more work" doesn't mean much if it's "more of the same." That's punishment, not enrichment.

And let me add this caveat--I know there have to be tons of computer games, software, and websites for this, but I'm reluctant to start those. He has a hard enough time tearing himself away from the computer for things like meals and chores; I don't want to add to the list.

Thanks!

Rachel has watched almost no Sesame Street.

2009-08-16T17:17:00.001-07:00

And she'll be five next month. When we watched The Muppet Movie, she called Big Bird "Big Fluffy." I laughed.

Why not? Well, part of it is just I leave the TV off for great periods of time. I don't have it on as background noise at all; I'd rather have the radio or CD's. Katrina Kenison has a chapter in her marvelous Mitten Strings for God about not needing the TV or background noise, how you hear much more and listen better to our children and ourselves. I realize as well that I get easily sucked in and the kids are even more easily. So most of the time, it's off.

Another reason is that it seemed whenever I'd turn it on, they were soliciting donations. That didn't hold my interest, let alone a toddler's. Fifteen minutes of "For a donation of X amount, we'll send you this prize!" made the Elvis remote so very understandable. What they don't say is that once they have your name, address, and phone number they'll hound you into the grave for another donation. No, thanks; I don't even give my real name to magazines I want.

"But it's educational!" Sure it is, at least it used to be. Have you watched it in recent years? I remember playing with my sister, making various letters on the floor. "Look, Mom! We're an H!" We had the LP, too. It had Rubber Duckie, I Love Trash, C is for Cookie... Good times, good times.

But now? Not so much. The Number of the Day is mentioned twice, once by the Count and then in the short immediately following. Cookie Monster is on a diet of fruits and vegetables and Oscar the Grouch shows his soft side with his pet Slimy the worm. I miss those aliens, the pink and blue, that were afraid of the telephone ringing. Those two were hilarious.
And because I can:

Then comes the most compelling personage of all: Elmo. Master of merchandising, king of treacly drivel, with a voice more irritating than Fran Drescher's or Rosie's (Perez or O'Donnell--take your pick). The subject of Sesame Street came up at dinner this evening.

"Why don't you like Elmo?" Madeleine asked.
"Because he's irritating. And he's only around for merchandising. For selling things."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when I was growing up, you could get stuffed toys of most or all of the characters. There were ones about as big as your Webkinz, and others maybe as big as Kit."
"That was okay."
"Right. There was a limit. Now, there's regular Elmo, Tickle Me Elmo, Chicken Dance Elmo, Rock and Roll Elmo... All he is is for selling more stuff."

Daddy and I continued the train after the kids had left the table. I felt a moment of inspiration; we've recently caught several episodes of "Lock N Load" with R. Lee Ermey. "You know who I want to see? Gunnery Sergeant Elmo. Wouldn't that be great?"
Daddy laughed and said in Elmo's falsetto, "You are all equally worthless to me."

So now, I leave it to you. What kind of Elmo would you love to see?

This sounds like my grandma.

2009-08-11T18:20:00.000-07:00

I mean that.

Remember this?

I know EXACTLY what that daughter is going through.

What price education? How's $500 per student sound?

2009-08-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

Seriously. And that sounds about right, including enrollment fees.

I worked in a parochial high school where tuition was under $5,ooo/year. Yes, we had a football team but not swimming; indoor pools are expensive and must be maintained year-round.
I worked in public schools where each student brought in roughly $6,600/year. We had all the bells and whistles, and still had book fairs, magazine sales, other fundraisers. And kids still had to provide their own paper, pencils, folders, etc.

This state expenditure and private school tuition has been discussed among us homeschooling moms. "What if *I* got that much money for school? Holy cow, new textbooks every year! We'd have cutting edge everything--software, videos, memberships to all of the nearby attractions..."

And we still do better. Hm. Strange, that.

Tip, La Shaidle.

At the DIA with a four-year-old

2009-08-11T07:16:00.000-07:00

We wandered down to the DIA this weekend. We have a membership, it's air-conditioned, and they were having a free presentation titled "Dragon Dreams and Daring Deeds"--yes, geared to kids.

We got there in time to wander over to the temporary Egyptian setup--the usual one was being remodeled or some such, so we went through the Asian/Indian exhibit to our goal. There was a statue, about three feet tall, in the Indian section that caught the girls' notice:

Rachel almost shouted. "Wow, Mom! Look at the size of her--"

Madeleine shushed her, a touch embarrassed.

My curiosity was piqued. Would she use the correct anatomical term? Exactly what had she noticed?

"Rachel," I whispered, taking a knee, "what were you going to say?"

She started to turn pink and flustered, afraid of getting in trouble. Big sister had shushed her, after all. "Honey, it's okay. I'm asking you, so you won't get in trouble. What did you notice that were big? Her what?"

My precious sparkly girl screwed up her courage and looked me in the eye.

"Her earrings."

Spring is bustin' out all over.

2009-08-06T18:58:00.000-07:00

There is growth all over this little house in Motownville. The most obvious and important is my increasingly-"voluptuous" (read:awkward and waddly) form. I've got probably eight weeks and change to go so yay. This is where the fun starts. Right? RIGHT?!

Another is Gladys the Christmas Kitten. She managed to escape the house while we were on vacation for nine days in June/July and came back knocked up. We weren't certain at first but she's getting pretty rounded around the middle. Anyone want a kitten? Right about on time to start protecting your hard work from the summer, your harvest? Drop a line in the comments box. Son Dale in his blessed naiveté thought we could sell them; I'm thinking I'm grateful for Freecycle.

The other area of outward growth is our garden. We had lots of seeds but we've discovered that some things work better as seedlings. Next year, the eggplant and green peppers will be purchased as seedlings; the beans will be potted indoors around the first of May. But when all has been said and done, three bean plants made it, for a while at least. I think they're pretty much done and produced enough for random snacks for whichever child noticed. The tomatoes are beginning to ripen; our third and fourth are on the kitchen counter as I type. That fourth one is bigger than the palm of my hand! And, if the weather heats up this weekend like I'm hearing, that could mean the couple out there starting to turn orange could be ready sooner rather than later. And then some more.
One of the many good things about this garden thing is Madeleine has overcome her dislike of tomatoes. The fact that they grew in her own back yard could be it; maybe it was just she didn't like that I served them with a sprinkle of black pepper. I don't care. Plain is okay too.

The sunflowers that I planted didn't make it. Somehow, though, the birds or something got hold of some of the seeds and we have half a dozen in the flower boxes on the south side of the house. I guess that's where we should put them next year without the avian assistance.

Of course, then there are the pumpkins. I've never grown those before, and only visited a pumpkin patch once in my life (it was during college). Our neighbor-turned-landlord advised that they would take over the yard and he wasn't kidding. It's like something out of Little Shop of Horrors. I'm afraid sometimes that I won't be able to find Louie out there among them.
To date, we only have four actual pumpkins, but the number of blooms on the vine and the simple length of the vines are... intimidating. Dale is thrilled that "his" pumpkins are doing so well. Next year, fewer pumpkin seeds. I saw some to grow white pumpkins; that sure would be different, wouldn't it?

Dolls that walk, talk, cry, and run a temperature. Now this?

2009-08-06T18:35:00.000-07:00

Oh no! They've invented a baby doll that encourages breastfeeding! What's next, one that poops?

I find the furor over this doll ridiculous, myself. Madeleine and Rachel both pretended to nurse various dolls; Maddie more so, but still. Both of 'em.
They didn't need a doll to encourage them, Maddie did it with her teddy bear or her stuffed giraffe as well as baby dolls. They learned it from their mother's example. They saw me feeding their younger sibling(s) and were simply imitating. They didn't need any special clothes for it, either; both girls would just hike up their shirt and settle the doll in the appropriate place.
Now, they didn't do it while out and about, at church or somewhere like that. It was pretty much at home. And no, even at home I'm not naked neck to navel to nurse, either.

Dumbest section of the whole article: "Dr. Manny Alvarez, managing health editor of FOXNews.com, said although he supports the idea of breast-feeding, he sees how his own daughter plays with dolls and wonders if Bebe Gloton might speed up maternal urges in the little girls who play it."
Exactly how would the doll do that any more than any other baby doll? Would it help if if it then wets or poops to give that less-pleasant aspect of motherhood too? Are they listening to themselves?

I could see getting upset over the concept of merchandising, but over the breastfeeding aspect? That I find risible.

Just varia

2009-08-03T19:52:00.000-07:00

More to remind myself than anyone else.

I don't know if I posted it here, but it's been elsewhere (Husband's blog, Facebook, the old-fashioned telephone, announcements by my mother) that we're expecting a girl come October, no later than the 19. Elizabeth Christina is, according to ultrasound, a little on the small side but not so much so as to engender worry. Otherwise everything is textbook and problem-free. Aside from having twenty extra pounds strapped to my abdomen, that is. Roughly ten more weeks to go.

I've read two books in the past month. The first was Robert Spencer's Religion of Peace?: Why Christianity Is and Islam Isn't. It's a delightfully un-PC romp through the history and current status of two of the world's biggest and most influential religions. He doesn't ignore the wrongdoings of Christians, but points out that if you have to go back to the Crusades (which, if I may point out, were a defensive move to begin with--and not a pre-emptive one either) or Galileo to cite them, perhaps a more modern examination is in order. Followers of a certain other monotheistic faith are daily making the papers, and not for their missionary work. I got this book of his because I have the feeling his other stuff would keep me up at night.

The other was for my birthday last Wednesday, and I finished it over the weekend. Lenore Skenazy's Free Range Kids: Giving Our Children the Freedom We Had Without Going Nuts with Worry is a breath of fresh air. Her writing style reminds me a lot of Vicki Iovine's (another one of my favorite reality-check writing moms). She takes a common-sense approach to motherhood and protecting our children. She's pro-car-seat, -bike-helmet, and -sunscreen but thinks playgrounds where tag is outlawed are ridiculous. So she ridicules them.
I remember during my first pregnancy I picked up What to Eat When You're Expecting. I figured I had a pretty healthy diet; this would just be refining and a few tips. Whoa, was I wrong. Two chapters in or something and the discussion on the evils of white flour had me feeling like I was abusing our child and she hadn't even been born. I wept; the book went.
Here's a sample:
This is a mat you put on the bottom of the tub. Turn the water on, and if the words TOO HOT! magically appear in a bubble near the duckie's head, you know that the water is, indeed, too hot! Because who can trust her own wrists anymore?
Oh wat a sec. We all can. Dip a wrist in the water, and you yourself can tell if that water is warm, cold, or boiling hot. (Key word: YEOW!) So why on earth is there not only this heat sensitive bath mat for sale but also a competing turthle you can put in your tub that will indicate TOO HOT! too? (Not a real turtle, who would indicate that by turning into soup.)
She cites statistics, anecdotes, and real-world experiences. I laughed my way through this one and intend to lend it out to friends.
Dear husband, though, did have a quibble with her point. Where yes, stranger kidnapping is exceedingly rare (noncustodial parent being far more common), our society now has sexualized children more than in the past. The steady pornification (I think I made that word up) of the general population has made it more possible, or even acceptable, for the perverts.
He may be right, but that doesn't change the fact that a child is 40 times more likely to die in a car accident, ten times more likely to die in a fire at home, twenty times more likely to drown in a pool, and eighty or ninety times more likely to be molested by someone they know than kidnapped and murdered by a stranger. (Those are her stats, not mine; I'm cribbing from page 184.)

So now you know what else I've been up to. Gestating, reading, keeping the other kids alive. Now your turn--go. Read.

Ignorance may be bliss, but not for their friends

2009-07-30T09:02:00.000-07:00

One of the things I wanted to do, and we have done, after the election is to join HSLDA. Some of you may remember that. While membership may put us on Big Sister's hit list, it would also keep us as updated as possible, I think, on what our congresscritters are doing regarding homeschooling laws. (C-SPAN--it's like Big Brother in reverse.)

Frequently in the newsletter, there are situations described where public or child welfare agents overstep their bounds or misrepresent their power. Things like the kids not being registered with their local intermediate school district, test scores or portfolios not being submitted, curriculum not being approved, letters of intent not being filed, kids playing in the backyard or park during school hours. So your "friendly" neighborhood social worker is making phone calls and random visits and needs someone who speaks legalese to tell them they can't do that.

It came clear to me when a friend, foster mother, and homeschooler got a call recently. Some big mucky-muck (her caseworker's supervisor?) called her. Seems Ms. Mucky-muck had encountered a ten-year-old homeschooled girl who couldn't read and wanted to report Mom to the appropriate office in Lansing for educational neglect, or some such; she didn't have the number but knew my friend would. The problem is, there's no such number. No such office.

Ms. Mucky-muck was stunned. Nobody to call? Don't homeschoolers register on some list in Lansing? Or something, some kind of oversight committee? Nope. Not here in Michigan, anyway. If this girl is being neglected, and that isn't necessarily a given, your office is the one to deal with it, dear.

Seriously. I'm speaking as a former public school teacher with graduate credit. About all public school teachers know about "homeschooling" is how to spell it, and I am willing to bet that as a rule our governmental agencies aren't much more informed. I was asked recently by other moms if I had to take classes or get a license to do it, and they were surprised (not dismayed, thank God) to hear no.

It's a lot like motherhood. You can read a lot, ask a lot of questions, get a lot of advice, find support groups, do online research. But you're still relatively on your own, literally in the middle of the night with a screaming toddler, or metaphorically when your seven-year-old doesn't get basic math. You have to make the decision: will a dose of ibuprofen take care of this, or do we need to make a trip to the ER? Will flashcards work with this, or do I need to try a whole different approach? If I just take a deep breath, relax, sing and pray, will it resolve on its own?

You fly along by the seat of your pants most of the time and hope you're in the ballpark. When we started homeschooling, even though I believed in my bones it's the right decision, I did mourn a little for the experiences I thought my kids would miss. Some sports, some school experiences like dissection in science, possibly prom. I consoled myself with the thought that there are public schooled kids who don't get those either and aren't too twisted about it as adults.

But now, three years into it, I can admit I was wrong. We have been, or will be involved with as of this fall, the following activities: soccer, dance, flag football, swimming, gymnastics, art classes, planetarium trips, art museum visits, Science Camp, American Heritage Girls, and we're currently researching Cub Scouts. I've found a website where I can order anything from the fairly innocuous natural sponge to entire dissection kits (including frogs, worms, crayfish, fetal pigs, and cow's eyeballs); from microscopes to telescopes. And, as of this spring, there's even an official Michigan Homeschool Prom. I don't think we're missing a thing.

But did I know this four years ago? No. I've learned by doing. So the next time I hear of some nosy child welfare worker demanding to inspect textbooks or interview the children, I'm not going to assume it's some kind of Big Brother trying to control a family. I'll just assume the poor woman doesn't know what she's talking about and patiently explain.

Vignettes from my life

2009-07-23T06:40:00.000-07:00

Back in May or so, I was having one of those days. The kids weren't misbehaving, just driving me crazy. Rachel bounced up to me and asked, "Can I play on the computer?"
With a manic gleam in my eye, I replied, "Can you tell me the square root of nine?" [Madeleine is the only one who has done multiplication, and only up to the 5s.]
"Ten!" she guessed.
I went to the Patience Well. "Honey, what times itself makes nine?"
Confused blinks from Rachel. Dale from the kitchen table said, "Three, plus three, plus three."
Uh oh.

* * * *
Louie has taken to storing items down the front of his shirt. This is a variation on having to imitate Napoleon and find and manipulate a nipple or navel. Usually he's wearing a Onesie, so whatever he's stuffed in there doesn't go very far. Items include Hot Wheels cars, handfuls of pea gravel, Goldfish crackers, a two-inch stalk of celery, a bitten Roma tomato, capless markers, and a non-functioning Lightning McQueen Shake-N-Go Racer. Not all at once, but that was just yesterday.
If I just start putting him in regular shirts so his treasures drop through, would it make life better or worse?

* * * *
Last week we attended my beloved's work picnic. The pavilion had been rented, it was close to the bathroom, food was ample and delicious, all was well. In the general vicinity, there was a family not associated with our group. I'd guess they were Filipino; English was not their common language. Yes, that's relevant to my tale.
However, there were kids there roughly Rachel's size. Being the kind of kid she is, they became fast friends. I tried to keep one on eye on her and her pals while also chaperoning the other three during Daddy's softball game. It wasn't too hard; they were at most 30 yards away without much obstruction by trees.
Rachel wandered over to us with a hot dog on a wooden skewer. Ummm... I don't recall seeing that before. "Where did you get that hot dog, Rachel?"
"From my friends," she said, indicating the Filipino family with a wave of her hand.
Close eyes, sigh. "Did you at least say 'thank you'?"
Grin. "Oops."
After she finished that, she wandered away again... back to her friends, of course, because next she had a grilled breast of chicken on a skewer. "Did you say 'thank you' THIS time?"
"Yes, this time I did."
After this, Rachel stuck pretty close to us and no more unfamiliar food appeared. She shared the chicken and it was pretty good.
At the end of the day, when we were all packing up, the mother of the Filipino family came over. My husband started to apologize for Rachel's behavior, but she politely interrupted. She wanted to tell us what a nice, well-mannered, friendly and trusting little girl we were raising; not afraid of people that were different.
Well... we weren't so upset then. It makes me wonder what else she said to them.

* * * *
I think that's enough to push the Moon Landing clip down past my links.

I have a boy.

2009-07-22T12:47:00.000-07:00

Therefore, I "get to" watch things like this.

Does the joy ever end?

Why we use "Old Math" here at Price Classical Academy

2009-07-20T13:14:00.000-07:00

Old math did this:

"New math" does this:

Do I really need to say more?

Sporadic posting to continue

2009-06-15T15:11:00.001-07:00

Thanks for all of the compliments on my fisk. It only took about half an hour to pound out. Husband's usually take longer, but I felt inspired.

Things are busy around here. Even though we're on a light load for school, there's still plenty to do and one of those is keeping the kids occupied. I know there are only so many days of summer and, while I want the kids to enjoy them, I don't want them to forget everything they've learned. So there's a time drain.

We're trying something new with Dale for reading. The familiar practice of "read independently, do the questions, Mom will check them when you're done" resulted in hours--as in nine, some involving bouts of tears--of non-production. For seven questions.
So we're throwing a little Charlotte Mason into the mix. He reads the questions to me before the passage. I make sure he understands all of the vocabulary (last time he thought a "regiment" was a poor person or beggar--big problem). We use the Mason "narration" practice to be sure he's understanding the material. When I hear the answer to each question, I stop him and ask the question. Since he's just read the answer, it doesn't take him long. Last, he then has to write the answers to the questions.
It only took two hours today, from beginning to end. Yes, it was still a long time for seven questions, but it's a lot better than nine.

I'm also kind of re-prioritizing. We limit the kids' computer time to half an hour per day, and even have a timer on the desk for it. At this point in life they aren't doing research; they're playing games. What does it say if I'm there for hours? Reading blogs, news sites, Facebook status updates, comments, chatting with friends, writing blog entries? I mean, I do have other things to do. Like Laura Ingalls Wilder said in one of her books, "Man's work ends with set of sun; woman's work is never done." And it's true.

So I'm taking a tip from myself with my kids. Yes, I'll still be posting, but don't expect a dramatic uptick in frequency. Thanks for your attention, folks.

Let's try this fisking thing.

2009-06-05T09:15:00.000-07:00

Over at Mama Says, she has her commentary on this article. I'm going to try my hand at my beloved husband's practice and fisk it. I don't know that it's as good as his, but it's an honest try.

The case against homeschooling
By JESSE SCACCIA
Homeschooling: great for self-aggrandizing, society-phobic mother…… but not quite so good for the kid.
Already a judgment. Any research to back that preconceived notion up?

Here are my top ten reasons why homeschooling parents are doing the wrong thing:
10. “You were totally home schooled” is an insult college kids use when mocking the geeky kid in the dorm (whether or not the offender was home schooled or not). And… say what you will… but it doesn’t feel nice to be considered an outsider, a natural outcropping of being homeschooled.
So being called "homeschooled" is an insult. Doesn't that indicate a destructively intolerant attitude? "Gay" is also considered an insult despite PSAs to combat it. Rather than stop the practice of homeschooling, we should work on the ignorance of those who hold such condemnatory viewpoints. Maybe we need nationally recognized Homeschool Awareness Month or Homeschool Pride marches.

9. Call me old-fashioned, but a students’ classroom shouldn’t also be where they eat Fruit Loops and meat loaf (not at the same time I hope). It also shouldn’t be where the family gathers to watch American Idol or to play Wii. Students–from little ones to teens–deserve a learning-focused place to study. In modern society, we call them schools.
Gee. Should we outlaw birthday cupcakes and snacks in schools too? Back in my elementary school, we ate lunch in the classroom. Really. Not to mention that he presumes the watching of American Idol (we don't) and Wii ownership (though we're thinking about that).
Where does he think public school kids do their homework, anyway? It's either at the forbidden kitchen table or in their bedroom, where they probably have a TV, stereo, their bed, et cetera.
Not only that, I can think of a couple families who DO have schoolrooms set aside in their homes.

8. Homeschooling is selfish. According to this article in USA Today, students who get homeschooled are increasingly from wealthy and well-educated families. To take these (I’m assuming) high achieving students out of our schools is a disservice to our less fortunate public school kids. Poorer students with less literate parents are more reliant on peer support and motivation, and they greatly benefit from the focus and commitment of their richer and higher achieving classmates.
So he's jealous that homeschooling parents keep their educated, well-behaved kids at home out of public school? While his argument has apparent merit, the more likely scenario is those good homeschooled kids after spending 7-8 hours a day with them will start to act more like their poorly motivated peers.

7. God hates homeschooling. The study, done by the National Center for Education Statistics, notes that the most common reason parents gave as the most important was a desire to provide religious or moral instruction. To the homeschooling Believers out there, didn’t God say “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations”? Didn’t he command, “Ye shall be witnesses unto me”? From my side, to take your faithful children out of schools is to miss an opportunity to spread the grace, power and beauty of the Lord to the common people. (Personally I’m agnostic, but I’m just saying…)
While his Bible cherry-picking is an argument used by many Christians, it's also a rephrased version of #8. In response, I ask a question: exactly how informed in their faith does he imagine most kindergarteners are? Or third-graders? Has he seen the anti-Christian rhetoric spewed in some of our schools? Or the pro-multiculturalism where one faith is just as good as another so they're all screwy? How are parents supposed to unteach in a few hours--between arriving home and bedtime--what their children are exposed to for eight?
I suppose I should be grateful he doesn't spout Richard Dawkins and try to argue religious education is child abuse.

6. Homeschooling parent/teachers are arrogant to the point of lunacy. For real! My qualifications to teach English include a double major in English and education, two master’s degrees (education and journalism), a student teaching semester and multiple internship terms, real world experience as a writer, and years in the classroom dealing with different learning styles. So, first of all, homeschooling parent, you think you can teach English as well as me?
As a matter of fact, I think I can teach English better than you can. I recognize the subjective versus the objective use.
Well, maybe you can. I’ll give you that. But there’s no way that you can teach English as well as me, and biology as well as a trained professional, and history… and Spanish… and art… and counsel for college as well as a school’s guidance counselor… and… and…
Maybe true for most of that but I have the Timmy Turner defense: "Internet." Not to mention the public library, the zoo, the local art museum, the local science center, and... and... And we get to go to these places as often as we like when the public schools are in session teaching cooperative learning and fuzzy math.
One last thing on that topic: I really hope I can do a better job of guiding my children to college better than my own guidance counselor did. I can think of no other school staff member so frequently parodied as a guidance counselor. I know ONE who was worth her weight, and I'll bet she'll tell you the same.

5. As a teacher, homeschooling kind of pisses me off. (That’s good enough for #5.)
Your ignorant attitude does the same to me. So there.

4. Homeschooling could breed intolerance, and maybe even racism. Unless the student is being homeschooled at the MTV Real World house, (I wouldn't want to visit there, let alone subject my kids to such an environment) there’s probably only one race/sexuality/background in the room. How can a young person learn to appreciate other cultures if he or she doesn’t live among them?
This is where I get to go all papistical on you. There are Catholic saints from every continent and every ethnic background, going back to St. Augustine of Hippo at least. St. Martin de Porres, St. Charles Lwanga, Blessed Kateri Takakwitha... That's a start. Not to mention the regular visits to all of those places I mentioned back in #6, unless you think we only go to the zoo on Catholic Homeschoolers Day.

3. And don’t give me this “they still participate in activities with public school kids” garbage. Socialization in our grand multi-cultural experiment we call America is a process that takes more than an hour a day, a few times a week. So how much Spanish do they get in your class? Or art? Or gym? Homeschooling, undoubtedly, leaves the child unprepared socially.
Yes, during the waking hours they're not at the dreaded kitchen table, they're trapped in their closet. They aren't going with me to the grocery store, buying things on their own, working at local charities, going to Park Days where the ten-year-old pushes the four-year-old on the swing, or groups of kids from 14 months to 11 years celebrate a St. Patrick's Day party, or any of the other multitude of activities they're involved in. Unlike your peer-socialized public school kids who only play with kids in their grade, they function with a variety of ages.

2. Homeschooling parents are arrogant, Part 2. According to Henry Cate, who runs the Why Homeschool blog, many highly educated, high-income parents are “probably people who are a little bit more comfortable in taking risks” in choosing a college or line of work. “The attributes that facilitate that might also facilitate them being more comfortable with home-schooling.”
More comfortable taking risks with their child’s education? Gamble on, I don’t know, the Superbowl, not your child’s future.
Oh, and every curriculum decision made in public school committees is a sure thing. Same with district-wide discipline/classroom management procedures; they're all a given. That's why new ones are adopted every 3-5 years.
Oh, and we don't see homeschooling as a gamble. We see it as a sure bet.

1. And finally… have you met someone homeschooled? Not to hate, but they do tend to be pretty geeky***.
And Heaven knows, there are no geeks at all in the public schools. Well, not in the hallways. They're all stuffed in trash cans or lockers.

*** Please see the comments for thoughts on the word ‘geeky.’ But, in general, to be geeky connotes a certain inability to integrate and communicate in diverse social situations. Which, I would argue, is a likely result of being educated in an environment without peers. It’s hard to get by in such a diverse world as ours! And the more people you can hang out with the more likely you are to succeed, both in work life and real life.
This in italics may be the only sentence with which I agree. Let me refer you, though, to my comments on #3 above.

One last note, to those homeschooling parents out there: it’s clear from the number and passion of your responses that TeacherRevised is missing an important voice in the teaching community. If any of you are interesting in writing for us, send me an email: jessescaccia@gmail.com. I would love to have you as part of our conversation.
Sure you would.

My solution suggestion

2009-06-03T09:58:00.000-07:00

By now, everyone reading this has heard of the murder of George Tiller. Like every pro-life blog, newspaper, website, or person I know, I do not condone the actions of his killer and will not make excuse or pardon. I pray for the repose of his soul as well as justice for the shooter.

Considerable and understandable concern has been expressed over how this cold-blooded killing will affect the pro-life movement. Worries that it has been hobbled, set back decades, will now be under increasing scrutiny, etc. have been stated. We will face broad-brushing by the media as murderous nutjobs, armed with sniper rifles, intent on sending barefoot women back to the kitchen or worse. I personally don't think these fears are unfounded.

However, I have a solution to this. What we pro-lifers do is get out and make our presence felt. Instead of hiding and cowering, we need to go demonstrate that we are NOT nutjobs, we are NOT murderous, we are NOT women-hating. We need to show that real pro-lifers are not murderers. We are not out to kill abortionists; while we would rather they find another line of work due to absence of demand, we are not going to kill them if they don't.

I saw two abortion clinics last Saturday while plant shopping with Rachel. They each had maybe five people walking in front of them; at both there was an umbrella stroller with pictures. I noticed rosaries in the hands of some of those people.

This Saturday, I intend to join them. With a rosary, not a gun.

Tired, but an accomplished tired.

2009-05-31T18:15:00.001-07:00

This is going to be a long post with the infinitesimal details of my weekend. You're warned.

Thursday afternoon in a regular email to my beloved, I listed all kinds of things we wanted to accomplish in the next three days. Grocery shopping, a dinosaur field trip, a date, lawn mowing, a trip to DIA for him and a couple friends, a trip to a plant nursery to finish our garden, Mass, Costco, shopping for summer clothes for Madeleine, all on top of the usual daily chores of laundry, meals, and dishes. We also knew we would want to watch the hockey games too.

Can you already feel the fatigue? Well, when two people decide to work together and a little bit of neighborly intervention occurs, it can really work out. Spectacularly.

I realized coming home from our parish Moms' Club Thursday that I could, really, go grocery shopping on Friday morning rather than wait for the weekend. I've done it before with all the kids; weekdays aren't nearly as crowded, either. So, there I was at 10 AM at Meijer, list in hand and kids in tow. They wanted new toothbrushes--fine. Oh, Daddy's birthday is Monday, can we get him presents? Sure, as long as you agree on what. Oh, and cards too!
They also talked me into strawberries for shortcake, which I promised we'd get on the way out if they were good. They were, with the overlooked exception a truncated tantrum in the cereal aisle when one lost the coin flip and we got Cookie Crisp instead of Apple Jacks--along with Mini-Wheats, Raisin Bran, and Caramel Delight Fiber One.

Upon getting home, I discovered one of our neighbors in our backyard... with a lawnmower. Okay, when we first moved in almost eight years ago, I had no intention of socializing with any of our neighbors--this was the "bad part" of our town, too far in the south end. I've said before when God serves humble pie, He always remembers the sugar. Yet another occasion to add to that list.

The kids loved the dinosaur field trip. It involved digging in sand for dinosaur bone replicas, carrying them inside a building, and turning them in to an expert who did her presentation while putting them together. She was right at their level and they loved it.
Friday night was Date Night, where we went to see Star Trek while Grandma indulged the kids with too much TV. Ten kinds of awesome was the movie with clear nods to the original series (including Kirk trying to get it on with a green-skinned chick). I did expect Bones to grow out a beard and ride a horse, I admit: Rohirrim!

Saturday I managed to get away with just Rachel to the nursery. It took two stops, but we got both a lilac bush and tomato plants. (I had to order the roses I wanted online since I didn't feel like driving all over God's green earth looking.) I have wanted a lilac bush outside my kitchen window for years. I've put it off since this was to be our "starter house," but we've been in this house twice as long as we've planned already with no change really in sight. Bloom where we're planted, right?
Now, if the wind is right, I get a lilac-scented breeze all the way into our living room. It's only a dwarf plant and will top out at about four feet tall, but when the lady described the regular ones as "invasive," I thought dwarf would be better. As to tomatoes, we got two "early girl" and two "big boy," which made Rachel happy.
Daddy managed his trip to DIA without incident. A couple of his friends who had never been to DIA were interested in the Rockwell show, and since this was the closing weekend, they got it in. I managed to nap with Lou while the other three kids were driving the neighbor crazy (okay, maybe just playing there, but still...).
Pizza for dinner, a walk afterward, and the hockey game (yay, the good guys won!) rounded out the day. Dessert of strawberry shortcake, where we used up the can of whipped cream purchased on the walk by spraying it directly into our mouths, was wonderful. And easy.

Mass was first on the agenda today. We made it on time, which is kind of unusual. Lou was fascinated by the procession. Father had a really good homily, combining Pentecost with the graduates on how we are called to spread the love of Christ too. After the announcements, when the graduates had introduced themselves and told where they were going to school, he commented, "All these graduates and none going to seminary. Perhaps next year?"
We then went to Costco, where the samples were enough to serve for lunch. After that stuff was dropped off and Daddy at the helm with three, I went out with Madeleine for summer clothes. She likes the same kind of stuff I would, mostly; she did talk me into a shirt for Rachel (so they'll match!) and a bathing suit for Dale.
Daddy grilled burgers for dinner per Dale's request earlier in the week; sides were baby carrots and celery sticks. My kids aren't fussy.
They played in the yard after, did a "show" that was more performance art/Ninja Warrior episode than anything else. Talking to Neema and Papa was fulfilling and their motivation for pajamas was the hockey pre-game.

Now they're all in bed, probably asleep. I'm going to have some Nutella toast for my own dessert and revel in a weekend well-spent.

Oh, great. Another website to go broke on.

2009-05-22T19:18:00.000-07:00

I'll admit that one of the more challenging subjects to homeschool well is science. Even if you have a terrific text (we do), even if you visit the library for supplementals/rabbit trails (we do), even if you have a membership to and visit local science museums (we do), even if your kids have a natural curiosity (they do)... it's the experiments. The hands-on stuff. Let's be honest--the fun, interesting stuff. It's one thing to take advantage of observing a dead squirrel that lost to someone's front bumper; it's another to get hold of owl pellets. Ants and worms are easy to find and observe, and we've found a praying mantis on our window unit one summer day. But mealworms? Not so much.
So... there's this place. No, this is not a paid post; I don't get paid for blogging which is why it happens when I feel like it. Just check this one page out for the young set--pre-K to second grade. Rachel would love the flower book; Dale would treasure the bug set. Poke around some more. It's like Science Geek Heaven.

Yeah. Like Amazon. "Oh, that would be so cool!"

Coupla links for ya

2009-05-19T09:28:00.000-07:00

On why I've discovered an affection for country music, here's this one from Catholic Exchange. Toby Keith's Unleashed was the first album I got--because of Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue.

And this one on the alleged Missing Link. This is going to get lots of folks I know all atwitter; some will be, "Wonderful! Now will you stop your meaningless weekly rituals to your imaginary sky god?" At least one, though, will surely be tactful enough to refrain from saying something like that. Others I know will be saying, "Fraud! It was coated in resin! Carbon dating is inaccurate! It's all a fake!"

I've been mulling this topic for a while and this announcement is as good a reason as any to post about it. My thoughts? To start: there is nothing inherent in Catholicism that conflicts with evolution. Godless evolution, sure; but evolution per se not so much. You see, if God sees fit that wolves can be selectively bred by humans over thousands (millions? I don't know how long amateur AKC folks have been working on this) of years to create this kind of creature, who's to say that He in His infinite abilities couldn't do the same on a larger scale? As Mark Shea is wont to say, "God in a scientifically controlled environment will do whatever He pleases."
I haven't gotten into a discussion of evolution with anyone ever, but one question plagues me on it. Scientists have proven the idea of spontaneous generation false, right? We know flies lay eggs on rotting meat, it doesn't just sprout maggots on its own. We buy vacuum-packed food because it's not going to spoil; all the germs are either absent or dead. They won't just grow out of the strawberry seeds in the jelly. Life does not arise from non-life, even on a microbial level.

So...
When Earth came into being six billion years ago or so, there was no life on it. Now, there is. I don't think anyone disputes either of those premises. But... At some point in the past six billion years, there had to be one moment where life didn't exist and the next it did. So we have one occasion where we have life springing from non-life. On the microbial level.

Now I'm going to braid a seven-year-old's hair and then coax a 17-month-old into taking a nap. Back to the grind.

Daddy kept his poker face.

2009-05-18T16:49:00.000-07:00

This is a real conversation that happened after dinner tonight; my beloved husband and I were talking after the kids had left the table.

Dale comes back and picks the drain cover from the coffee maker out of the dish rack and puts it to his lips.
Me: "Dale, that doesn't belong near your mouth."
Son, looking at it: "What is it?"
Husband: "Something we use to clean the cats' butts."
Pause.
Son, quietly: "I'm going to wash my lips."

We'll tell him the truth eventually. Like puberty, high school graduation, his wedding...

Guess what! A book review!

2009-05-17T18:49:00.000-07:00

Yeah, and since for reasons I'll choose not to reveal, I'm pretty sure it's going to be a traffic-generator. Not like combining some celebrity with a synonym for "unclad," but still.

I received last Tuesday Mark Shea's new trilogy Mary, Mother of the Son. I finished the first volume yesterday, which gives you some idea of how difficult a slog it wasn't. Mark's new books are well-footnoted and researched but not a laborious read thanks to his engaging and witty style.

He debunks the notion that the Marian dogmas are adopted from paganism quite adeptly. He just points out, with orthodox Catholic sources from the first two centuries of Christianity, just how little the original Christians cared about what was going on in the pagan world. To compare, it's like modern Presbyterians giving one whit about theological development in Sikhism. He shows how the likes of Polycarp and Irenaeus respected the Virgin Mary, and quotes their writings about her perpetual virginity. It wasn't something the Roman Catholic Church just made up a few decades ago; that belief has been around a while. Like a couple millenia, almost.

He puts down (as in "puts to sleep," not "insults") the theory of a parallel church. What's that? The idea that a parallel Christian church, an "underground" church, has existed since the death of the apostle John, but was just biding its time until the Reformation to come out so it wouldn't get crushed by Catholicism.
The Vatican keeps records. Copious, detailed records of what was going on when. Pope Pius XII read some aloud to von Ribbentrop in perfect German when the latter was trying to intimidate the Holy Father into keeping quiet about what was going on in Nazi Germany. Further back, there are records of how the Church tried (with varying degrees of success) to theologically combat the Albigensians, Arians, Marcionites, gnosticism, Henry VIII, Marxism, socialism, and Sunday blue laws. Okay, maybe not that last.
There are no records of this "parallel church," either within the Vatican or by the mythical organization itself. It's even more fictitious than the Protocols of the Elders of Zion.

This book is like a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Not the condensed kind from a can, but homemade with big chunks of white meat, whole wheat noodles, and a pound of vegetables in two quarts of soup. It fills you up, the chicken melts in your mouth, and Mom adds just enough garlic and spices for zest. When you're done, you can feel the love from your mother warming you from the inside.
Or maybe it's the love from your Mother.

We have come to a decision.

2009-05-07T19:13:00.000-07:00

We are bibliophiles in this place. All of us who can read, anyway, which leaves out the pets and Lou (but only temporarily). We do the best we can at the library but that whole "giving the books back" part we have trouble with.

And when I say "We have books," I'm not kidding. His alone would fill this thrice or four times over; I could probably fill that once. The kids, even though there are more of them, haven't had nearly as long nor do they know the intricacies of Amazon, though I'm guessing it's a matter of months before Madeleine gets the "one-click ordering" concept.

What is our decision? I'm getting a Kindle. That may seem backward, as he's the one with the real collection, but trust me. We've discussed this. His preferences lean toward the old and out of print. He has the whole of the translated works of Giuseppe Riccioti, and his recent favorite is Paul Heinisch. Try to find those at your local B. Dalton.
I, on the other hand, lean more toward stuff that is still in print--either because it's so new (Why GM Matters, by William J. Holstein) or because it's considered classic. I'm reading those to be prepared for the kids' curriculum. To drive home this point, Kolbe has literature courses for both upper elementary and middle school, to the tune of roughly 3 dozen books each. Nobody is expected to read all of them, but by the time all of the kids go through, I might have. There's no guarantee that all of the kids will choose the same ones from the list. Where are we supposed to store all of these books, as well as ones we choose to bring home? And don't say "library," since we can only renew once.

So, if I get a Kindle, I'll be loading it up with the classics I already have on the shelf that I've accumulated in preparation for the kids. I realize that I'll have to share the Kindle with the kids but I'm used to sharing just about everything else except my shower time. This will also leave him room for more of his obscure stuff he finds wandering the dusty shelves of used book stores, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

I feel sorry for Ron Howard.

2009-05-04T09:09:00.001-07:00

He's just trying to make a movie. He had to secretly send in folks from the crew pretending to be tourists to get pictures of the Sistine Chapel so he could make a set; those mean controlling closed-minded Vatican officials wouldn't let him film within its walls! You'd think there really is a conspiracy they're trying to hide!

After all, there are no books of photographs of Rome. Or the artwork in the Vatican, and they're more protective than the Amish when it comes to images of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. And the skyline of Rome is more closely guarded film than the Zapruder. For sure, there are no websites his staff could have checked. Instead they had to rely on grainy unfocused pictures clandestinely taken with camera phones or the like.

Hm. I guess they didn't have Internet classes in Mayberry.

Don't try this at home.

2009-04-22T09:14:00.000-07:00

Louie is a masterful teacher and avid experimenter. What we have discovered together:

1. Spaghetti-O's are an ineffective cellulite cream. Whether because he doesn't have cellulite on his thighs or because Franco-American is short on the ingredients remains undetermined.

2. Fifteen-month-olds do not digest green food coloring. It passes right through to the diaper and will cause Daddy to metaphorically do the same, making Mom laugh too hard to explain. The results resemble green tempera paint, but don't stain.

3. Removal of either nostril-clogging green nose goblins or mostrous earwax potatoes results in screaming akin to Egyptian brain treatment before demise. I think he's sure I'm going after his brain.

4. Dishwashing bubbles, while entertaining, are not a filling snack food.

5. An eight-year-old dog can be very patient and gentle when it comes to stealing chocolate chip cookies.

Every now and again, I glimpse it.

2009-04-20T19:31:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who has recently re-started attending Mass. I'm pretty sure he grew up Catholic but because of circumstances about marriage he and his wife went and were wed elsewhere. Now his kids are old enough to start asking questions and he doesn't have answers. Being the kind of person I am, I invited him to our parish and he's started coming--three or four weeks running now. He'd looked closer to home but the times didn't work out, they didn't have anything for the kids, such as that.

So it's occurred to me to look at Mass, the Catholic faith, faith in God in general through the eyes of his children. And it's bizarre to think about, not to put too fine a point on it. It is fantastic and incredible, and I don't mean those as superlatives for "good." It is like a dream, impossible to believe.

The idea that a benevolent, omniscient, omnipotent Being should put on flesh to bring me closer to Him. To decide to endure birth (which I've read isn't any more pleasant for the baby than the mother--think about it), hunger, thirst, cold, heat, uncomfortable shoes, and itchy clothes just as a start. Then to choose to go through the Passion--the scourging, crowning with thorns, the ridicule, carrying the cross, the very crucifixion itself. He left Heaven to do all that for... me.
And He still comes to me, to all of us, to nourish us every time we attend Mass. Not just our hearts and minds with His Word, but physically and tangibly as Food.

My husband asked me why I was a little wet-eyed at Mass this week. It's a wonder I wasn't sobbing in the pew.

Whoda thunk...

2009-04-14T16:49:00.000-07:00

that dolphins are kufr?

Today's Hilaire Belloc quote

2009-04-13T18:45:00.000-07:00

"What the oustanding truth which this opponent of mine had not perceived was, that between himself and a Congregationalist there was not enough difference to make education in common an anomaly or an injustice, let alone unworkable. If you were a Congregationalist rich enough to get private education for your son, you would not be horrified at the proposal to have a Baptist tutor for him; nor if you were a Baptist would you be horrified by the idea of a Congregationalist tutor, but you certainly would be startled in either case at a proposal that you should get a Catholic priest to come in and put the lad through his Latin."
The Schools, Essays of a Catholic, Macmillan 1931, TAN 1992.

So am I an elitist snob or dumbed down?

2009-04-08T19:44:00.001-07:00

You can't answer "that's redundant."

DIA is hosting a Norman Rockwell exhibit. I really want to see it and we have plans to go and take the kids. My mom is coming; she's never been to the DIA, but she's coming for this. We've even gotten a kids' book on Rockwell to help them get something out of it. I compare Rockwell's stuff to Robert Frost's poetry--I get it. I don't need footnotes or interpretations to explain it to me. Even Wilfred Owen's stuff I sometimes need to look up, but not Frost or Rockwell. So I like it.
I remember seeing it on the back cover of Reader's Digest growing up. I was so proud when I recognized one of his works (the triple self-portrait) on the wall of a local restaurant.

In reading the write-up from the head curator/guy in charge of the DIA, one could feel his surprise at his own pleasure in hosting the show. He was just some syrupy, popular-culture illustrator; not an Artist. Right. He did a couple hundred covers for the Saturday Evening Post and made his living from it, that's all. A decade or two or more ago, Rockwell stood as much chance of a real art museum showing his stuff as your average third-grader. It wasn't considered art.

So why is it considered art now? I've railed against the dumbing down of our culture; is Rockwell's popularity a symptom of this? Or is it a recognition of art outside what the Elitist Snobs Who Know Better Than the Unwashed Masses? I mean, Vincent van Gogh sold a single painting during his lifetime and now they're worth millions. What happened with Vincent, and did the same thing happen in the art community with Rockwell?

These are the questions I think about while I'm washing dishes and pairing socks. You didn't think it took that much out of me, did you?

I have it on good authority...

2009-04-04T07:28:00.001-07:00

that mud tastes better than Play-Doh. Given the one Lou keeps trying to eat and the one he quit after one try, that is.

Do they make toddler-size Hannibal Lecter masks?

Good thing she's cute.

2009-04-04T07:25:00.000-07:00

While looking right at the baking tray covered in fish sticks, she asks, "What are we having for dinner, Mama?"
Lasagna, dear.

When asked to choose her bedtime story and brush her teeth, she pipes up with, "I do everything you say, Mama!"
Really? Since when?

"That's how you spell Charybdis, Daddy."
And she's right.

Is this a first?

2009-04-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

Madonna is told "no."

Let me state that I admire the judge's courage. It takes stones to deny the kind of money Madonna has, her legions of aging devotees, etc. But he did it. Good on him.

On the other hand, I don't wish deprivation of any kind on any child in the world, whether from Malawi, Sudan, Vietnam, China or the United States. But if Madonna feels the need to adopt a four-year-old child with troubles, there are thousands--literally THOUSANDS-- here in the United States (hundreds in the Material Girl's home state alone) that won't involve passports and international flights. They would benefit even more from the best therapy money can buy, which she could put at their disposal.
If mere mortals--not million dollar celebrities--have the generosity to do this, why can't she find it in her fifty-year-old soul?

I knew there was some reason I liked Cyndi Lauper better, even 20 years ago.

Remember, he's brilliant.

2009-04-01T20:22:00.000-07:00

Did he just send some congressional clerk to the mall? I mean, come on. And even I know to watch for this problem; maybe it's because I majored in French, though. Some "poli-sci, why try?" major might not have a clue.
UPDATE 4/2/09--It gets worse.

I could excuse my mother for not knowing this, as she's both a convert (yeah, back in '64, but still--I cut her some slack) and non-Mexican. I know Hillary isn't Catholic or Mexican either, but she's the bleedin' Secretary of State.

Somebody needs new protocol staff. Hey, I know!

Did you know...

2009-04-01T20:21:00.001-07:00

that if you mix mashed grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup with Italian diced tomatoes, and whole milk it looks suspiciously like vomit?

It doesn't smell nearly as bad, though. And it cleans up more easily, too.

"Go out and play" can be... messy.

2009-03-30T12:17:00.000-07:00

"Mom, Louie is messy!" Understatement. He's soaked from the waist down. Including his shoes.

"Mom, I think I destroyed my pants." They are destroyed. Yes, you need to change clothes before dance class. The irony? The Boy is cleaner than his sister.

"Mom, I think I need to change my... things." Her vagueness is telling. She needs to change from the skin out.

Ah, spring has sprung.

Random questions--any help?

2009-03-29T13:57:00.001-07:00

I'm unleashing the Power of the Blog, such as it is with my two dozen regular readers.

1. Does a Kindle get out-of-print books? Big sellers only? How obscure can the books be? See, I know and love a book junkie and a Kindle would really help with the the space issues. However, if it's only popular books or bestsellers, that helps very little. He's into relatively obscure Byzantine texts, out-of-print Catholic stuff, small publishers, etc. And once you have it on Kindle, do you have it forever or will it eventually zap off if it goes out of print?
The other, possibly more practical option, is for me to get the Kindle and donate/sell my various books. I don't have quite the eclectic taste my husband does.

2. I have a pair of boys' Bob the Builder overalls in a size 4T. Dale loved them and I'm planning on keeping them for Lou. However, we don't have the matching shirt I'm sure exists (I saw it on someone else's son). Does anyone know of, has anyone seen somewhere, a long sleeved Bob the Builder plaid shirt? How much will you want to part with it? And if you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry. And yes, I've trid eBay and the closest I've found is a short sleeve one in 3T.

That is all for now. Thanks, folks!

What Connor MacLeod said.

2009-03-25T10:03:00.000-07:00

For the uninitiated: "There can be only one."

And so there is. That one is just fine, measuring at 10 weeks one day. We even saw the little legs move and all.

Now I'm going to resume my normal life of chores, meals, and teaching. Daddy may scan in the picture later, but for now you have to take my word for it.

Metro, boulot, dodo....

2009-03-23T05:34:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't given up blogging for Lent; it just seems like it.

I've got a kind of Dr. Seuss-ish poem in my head somewhere, rhyming "mathematics" and "phonics," "obstetrician" with "pediatrician," and "orthodontist" with "dentist." Throw in grammar, reading, science, spelling, playdates, dance class, first Friday Mass, dishes, laundry, floors, keeping Louie alive and clean, and brushing my teeth and I'm shot.

Oh, and now that spring has made arrangements to arrive we'll be starting a garden. Kind of a relief that there are only two more episodes of ER (my only reason to stay up past 10PM). Yes, there's me, the production crew, and the mothers of most of the cast still watching.

We finally have up a Baby Ticker, and Daddy has one too. That'll make it easier for someone to keep track since this is kind of new for him. Given the loss before Louie, my doc wants me to come in for an ultrasound this Wednesday morning to be sure we have a heartbeat and all. I'm not worried but there are some changes this time around. I've already gained a few pounds and some of my clothes aren't fitting; that's never happened before in the first trimester. If I find time and there's anything exciting, I'll try to post Wednesday.

On current events: I'm waiting to see a Ron Burgundy-style joke about Obama and his teleprompter. Let me know in the comments.

That is all. Now I get to take my cooling rack back from Louie, get the other three doing school, wash yesterday's dishes, have some breakfast, throw in a load of laundry... This is the life I signed up for. And honestly, I love it.

Real Presence vs. Literal Presence

2009-03-04T07:00:00.000-08:00

Our homeschooling group has a Moms' Night Out (MNO). There are usually a dozen regulars or so and we dish pretty explicitly. Some months ago, there were even pregnancy tests taken (one was positive). Really.

So it's no surprise that talk turns to religion. Don't get nervous; there is very rarely any raised voices or harsh words; it's almost always in the vein of clarifying one's own beliefs and educating others--not necessarily to convert anyone.

It seems a few folks had seen the video Common Ground and there were some questions about the Real Presence. I'd talked about it with one person before but... I'll be honest. My 1970's Glitterchesis was thirty years ago, and while Madeleine made her First Communion last year, Daddy did the teaching. I needed to knock some rust off.

See, in the video, Father Riccardo (whose orthodoxy I have no reason to question--quite the contrary) said something very like if not exactly, "It's not literally the Body of Christ." (I haven't seen the video--yet.) This gave me the screaming willies. I need to see this, and quickly, to put it in context.
I lead a busy life, so renting and watching videos is one of those things that gets done rarely. Instead, I mulled it. I thought about it. And I realized that "literally" has a very narrow meaning. It appeared I had two options.

Did I believe that Jesus' Body is literally made of unleavened bread and, were He to cut Himself shaving, would bleed wine? Hmm. That sounds vaguely familiar...

In a word--no.

The other apparent option if we're talking literally is that, upon consecration, the bread and wine undergo some kind of chemical change that turns them into Glorified Human Flesh and Blood-down to their molecular makeup.

That one is just as silly and even scientifically disprovable. Is there a third option?

I decided to consult the Catechism to see what actual Church teaching is. Paragraph 1374, in its entirety, says: The mode of Christ's presense under the Eucahristic species is unique. It raises the Eucharist above all the sacraments as "the perfection of the spiritual life and the end to which all the sacraments tend." In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist "the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained." "This presence is called 'real'--by which is not intended to exclude the other types of presence as if they could not be 'real' too, but because it is presence in the fullest sense: that is to say, it is a substantial presence by which Christ, God and man, makes himself wholly and entirely present."

Whoa. There's no talk of "literally." We look through the eyes of faith and see Jesus present sacramentally--really, truly present, but not literally. I mean, the Blessed Sacrament to my knowledge has not cured a woman's issue of blood by simple contact, restored sight, or healed a withered hand. While It may float on water, I don't think It will walk.

I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I'm trying to get a grip on the doctrine of the Real Presence and how to explain it. I read John 6 and it's like algebra--makes sense while I'm reading it but ten minutes later, it's gone. When I watch Common Ground, I'll bet Father Riccardo's explanation will help.

I think, though, that it's called a Sacred Mystery for a reason. Better minds than mine have thought about it for longer than I have time to do, and haven't been able to explain it fully. For those non-Catholics, "Sacred Mystery" is Catholic-speak for "let it go."

Like a redheaded stepchild...?

2009-02-17T16:09:00.000-08:00

We went on a playdate today. The other two families have adopted and biological children and the topic came up; I finally learned which were birth and which adopted for the Freeman clan; I already knew for the Mabes.
At dinner, the kids were asking about adoption.
"Is James adopted?" asked Madeleine.
"Yes, honey, he is," I told her.
"I thought so!" declared Dale. "With that red hair and all those freckles!"
"Sweetie, Mrs. Freeman has bright red hair and freckles, as well."
"Maybe she's adopted, too," he answered.

As always, timing is everything.

2009-02-15T18:41:00.000-08:00

My husband and I recently discussed the idea of having another child. Louie had turned a year old, if memory serves. It wasn't an "if," it was "when." That much helps when you can agree on that, let me tell you.
I had joked before that when we had a fourth, I'd want to have another rather quickly so that child would have someone to play with. I was half-kidding; I didn't know how I'd deal with four, so it was all theoretical.
Well, I opened the discussion. I didn't expect him to have immediate answers and he didn't. I basically wanted to make sure we had all of the pertinent information. Like that I'm 38 this year and he's 40. The clock is ticking and the risks go up perceptibly with each year. However, we live in an already crowded house and have extremely poor prospects for selling it. We have no control over the real estate market and less of an idea on when it might shift; under what circumstances did we just damn the torpedoes and go for it anyway?
He didn't have an answer. Neither did I, but I put it out there. "I just want the discussion to be open," I said.

We forgot something, though. We have a third Person in our marriage, a "silent Partner" as it were. He had an answer.

The answer is... October.

Happy birthday, Miep!

2009-02-12T09:21:00.001-08:00

Okay, since I've never met her, I should say "Mrs. Gies."

And many more.

I have a new favorite actress.

2009-02-11T09:25:00.000-08:00

Salma Hayek.

Here's why.

Book review, educational diversity, and responsibility

2009-02-10T19:02:00.001-08:00

Now that's a mouthful of a title, isn't it?

Back in high school, I was in the "honors" or "college prep" track, mostly. Except for the last two years of math and science, that is. I graduated with six years of English and three each of math and science. Even then, I knew my strong suits.
I had Shakespeare in my background, honors government, four years of French, even a year of drawing as an elective. The Late Great Christina had very similar courses.

Years later, she ranted about our high school--"I had a high school diploma and didn't know how to balance a checkbook or shop on a budget!"
I was taken aback. I never learned to do those things, either. I didn't even know where I was supposed to have learned them. Did such classes exist?

In my subbing years, I learned they did. In our high school yet. However, they were filled with those kids counting the days until they could drop out, or deemed not academically grounded enough for more challenging classes, or suchlike. Those kids I passed in the hall, whose names I sort of knew, but never really had enough in common with to actually talk to.
Why did those kids need that information and I didn't? Did college-bound students have a greater likelihood of not needing to know?

I've come to the realization that it's not up to the schools to teach children everything they need to know to be successful in life. That little ideal died off a long time ago--before my time, for sure. It's not up to the teachers, the catechists, the troop leaders, or peer counselors.
It's up to the parents.

Which is another reason we're homeschooling. (When will this get to the book review? Momentarily.)
Don't get me wrong, I love Kolbe Academy. Their curriculum is the framework I work with in book selection and time frames. However, they are all "college prep" and not much "vocational" or "practical"--what used to be called Home Ec. I realized that if I didn't pay attention, my kids could grow up and never learn to sew on a button or mend a rip--even an easy one on a seam.
That's where Catholic Heritage Curriculum comes in. We recently ordered our new spellers and grammar books (which I love), but I got myself a book:
Sewing with Saint Anne.
This gem starts with the very basics--threading a needle, both with a needle threader and without. There are a couple dozen projects, all rated in difficulty from beginner to advanced. The clip-art illustrations throughout are classic. The explanations and history are wonderful; technical terms like "weft" are explained and there's even a glossary.

I'm not worried now about my kids having a well-rounded education. They will be able to discuss Greek mythology while making quilts, Catholic theology while changing the oil in the car, or Aquinas while making a healthy supper. And I'm okay with that.

Laugh or cry?

2009-02-03T17:14:00.000-08:00

I had my annual girl exam yesterday. The receptionist, married a year or so ago, looked a little more rubenesque than I remembered; she was sitting, so I couldn't be sure. There on her desk was the ultrasound picture.
"Yes, that's mine," she confirmed.
"And what is this baby's name?"
"Carter," she responded with pride.
"Not after Jimmy, right?" I said in jest.
"Who?" she said sincerely.

And some folks wonder why we're homeschooling.

Louie's Penny Saga--Conclusion

2009-01-31T13:55:00.000-08:00

Lou was cuddling his recovery nurse when I got up to his room. When he saw me, though, he leaned with arms outstretched.
"Can I feed him?" I asked her.
"If he wants to, sure," she said. Oh, he was ready to nurse then!

Since I knew hospitals aren't always timely with discharges, I ordered dinner for us. He fell asleep before it arrived but when I woke him up with strawberry yogurt to his lips he perked right up. We shared the yogurt, canned pears, pancakes, and orange juice; I let him have all of the milk and Cheerios. With food in his stomach, his sleepiness evaporated and he was back to his usual self--climbing, babbling, exploring. I was so relieved to have my Louie back!

Our nurse Carol was very concerned about his hand, though. The swelling, though considerably diminished, was still apparent. The color had come back to most of the area but some still looked blotchy and angry red.
She made sure I knew on the discharge papers to get seen by our usual pediatrician on Thursday. "I'm going to pray about that hand," she told me as I wheeled him out in the stroller.

Before bedtime, his hand had started to blister. I didn't know exactly what to do; it looked like a burn, but I knew it hadn't been heated. I did the common sense thing--clean and covered. The silvadine stuff came to mind but I went with Neosporin with pain relief instead.
By the next morning, the swelling was gone but the discoloration and damage remained. So, Thursday morning, that was the primary attention of the doc. He told me I had it wrapped better than he ever could (plenty of practice last month, Doc), and he asked if I'd used the silvadine. It should get treated as a burn, he told me.
Then he made contact with Dr. Cullen, who was the same one as had removed the penny. "He ran the burn unit at Children's," he told me. He was transferring us to that guy's care, since he was the expert.

Friday morning, we were in Dr. Cullen's office. He apparently had just transferred over since he told me (and the famous Dr. Rondon) of a two-page list of things he wanted available. "Silvadine and one-inch gauze need to go on the list too," he told us.
Most of the area is mild second-degree, but a spot about the size of a dime surrounding the first IV site looked third-degree. "I can't promise it won't have a mark," he said.

Eh. A spot the size of a dime on the back of his hand? As long as he has full function and no nerve damage, I don't care. I have my Louie back.

Now please, pardon me while I get him off the kitchen table. Again.

Louie's Penny Saga--Chapter 3

2009-01-30T11:30:00.001-08:00

Why recap when you can scroll down?

Someone explained to me that his IV had gone out of his vein (during his fussing in the night, perhaps?) and continued to drain into the fat tissue under his skin. When it came out, it was draining clear fluid with traces of blood. Not good. Anyway, I was sure he was going to lose his hand.
Dr. Rondon, while concerned, wasn't panicked. "His thumb will come back to normal. Look, it's already fading. I'll come back and check on it in a few minutes."
True to his word, he came back three times in about the next 20. His fingertips had started to turn a healthy pink first, a fact I asked my day nurse Carol to pass on to him. Lou relaxed and went into an exhausted sleep which made me realize the discomfort in his hand was why he couldn't sleep the night before.
The resident who had explained what "IV went sub-Q" meant told me that Dr. Rondon, being the pediatric surgical resident, was the best person to catch it. He was the one who would be opening it up to release the tension and help the drainage, should it come to that (it didn't).
I was told to keep that hand elevated, which I did. At least until transport showed up to take us to X-ray--not long given Dr. Rondon's stat order. I cuddled him all the way down, he got strapped into the chair for the two pictures (front and side), and we went back. He returned to sleeping. So did I.

They came around on rounds, looked briefly at his hand, and noted as a group it looked grotesque. Ms. Resident assured the group that it had been "completely cyanotic" before and it was actually much improved. I was told we'd be going for surgery sometime that day to remove the coin.
Dr. Ibrahim, who had been one of the first faces I'd seen Monday, lingered after the group left. "Yes, you're on the list for surgery, but nobody can tell you when. It could be an hour, it could be five hours. It will be sometime today, though."

Lots of waiting, and it was all downhill from here until the surgery. He got another IV which caused no problems. Around 3 they came to get him while I walked down next to his crib. It's terrifying to watch your baby get wheeled away, for those who haven't done it yet. The whole procedure took maybe half an hour and a white-bearded Dr. Cullin brought out a penny in a specimen jar.
"It wasn't a quarter. It's never a quarter, they're too big," he said. A little while later, I got called that he was out of recovery and I could go back up to his room.

Louie's Penny Saga--Chapter 2

2009-01-29T15:56:00.000-08:00

We arrived at the hospital. Louie had fallen asleep on the trip and he stayed that way while I rolled him in the stroller. I had no trouble from either security or the desk people in getting up to where we belonged; they did know we were coming.

Our first room already had a patient, a little boy on a trach tube in a crib. His parents had that Steve Martin--Queen Latifah movie going and loudly. I just tuned it out as I answered the questions: Lou's medical history, medications, what happened this time. When the first movie ended, they put on Apollo 13. I was wondering if they'd just let it go as it was close to midnight, but I guess they were listening to it (they sure weren't sitting where they could see the TV). I didn't even ask--Tricia our nurse brought up a room change, and we did that.
A while later Tricia started talking IV. Since Lou was NPO (meaning no food, no nothing), the docs wanted him on something. He'd need it for his surgery later--it wasn't a sure thing he'd need it but it was the prognosis at that point.
I acquiesced to the IV. I could have put it off, but they had the nurse from the pediatric ICU there who could do it. So I said yes.
They brought him back hooked up to his machine and I held him. He did NOT like the board his hand was taped to and tried to pull it off more than once. I resorted to what I had before when it was wrapped up after his burn--the socks I had in the diaper bag (thanks, Heather!). However, the machine kept beeping that it was "occluded," so Tricia came in around 2:30 and tinkered with it and retaped everything. We put his sock back on and my son and I tried to sleep.
Lou was restless, waking at least every 45 minutes just to cry and wrestle for five or ten, then give up and go back to sleep. I thought it was due to not being nursed, or too warm, or in a strange place, or something.
Various people came by through the night to ask about him, tell me they'd do another X-ray to see if the coin had moved and if not go in and get it. I was told they'd take him for the X-ray between 6:30 and 7.

It didn't happen. What did? Well, along about 8:45, Dr. Rondon came in to check him out, asked about the X-ray, and when he found it hadn't been done he put a "stat" on the order. I finally realized something wasn't right with Louie's arm. The skin seemed very taut, it wasn't bending well, the tape for his IV seemed very tight. I took off his sock.
His hand, swollen to twice or thrice its normal size, looked like it was made of wax.
"Um... Someone!" I called, too far from the phone to call my nurse. The door was open and, God bless him, my hero Dr. Rondon was out there.
"The tape for his IV seems really tight. Can I take this piece of it off?"
He looked over at me. "Yeah, you can do that. Let me check that out." He came right in and looked at Louie's hand. "Oh, this all needs to come off." He pulled a pair of scissors out of his pocket and started cutting tape.
"That isn't supposed to happen," he said, indicating Lou's hand. "His IV went sub-Q."

Louie's Penny Saga--Chapter 1

2009-01-29T11:17:00.000-08:00

I'm posting this because it's been occupying me and mine for a few days now, as well as to let other parents know What To Look For. Lots of fun!

Our story begins way back on Friday with Dale's surgery. Lou spent nine hours away from me and since has forbidden me to use the toilet without his permission and supervision. He wails outside the closed door, beating on it, until I come out. We're not through weaning yet; does it show?
But on Monday, he managed to spend time with Daddy while he got dressed and I loaded the washer. Daddy suddenly called me with that tone--get here now! I found Louie coughing and spluttering, Daddy saying, "I don't know what he put in his mouth, whether he spit it out our swallowed it."
I took him on my hip and went back to loading the washer one-handed. Another minute or two of Louie coughing and he was fine. I thought whatever it was went to his stomach, and he just was clearing his throat.
Lunch came and went, he nursed just fine, all was well. However, that evening at dance class he coughed up some of the apple we'd been sharing. It was odd, too--not vomit, too wet to just have been in his mouth. Take note--keep watching.
After dinner he coughed up some spaghetti noodles as well, which was my last straw. "I'm taking him in, hon. Something is blocking the way."

To the pediatric urgent care we went, where he was his normal self--exploring everything, trying to walk outside, investigating the bathroom, grinning and climbing. He even begged Cheez-its from a complete stranger. He was charming.
They took an X-ray and determined that he had a coin in his esophagus. It was sideways, letting liquids and other very soft stuff (like chewed crackers) through but lumpy stuff wasn't making it.
The doc looked apologetic when he told me and started talking about staying the night in the hospital. "I'll call ahead so they have a bed ready when you get there."

Nuts.

Where does obligation lie?

2009-01-22T12:18:00.000-08:00

Let's play Imagine That. It won't hurt.

Let's imagine a Mike and Jenny Smith. They're committed vegetarians. They walk the walk, talk the talk, but aren't out to convert anyone. They just want to help others by encouraging them to lead a healthy lifestyle, providing them with both an opportunity and an example. What they do is open a vegetarian restaurant. What would they call it? Let's say Meet Without Meat. Play along with me, what would their logo be? A cow, pig and chicken all sitting around a table?

Now, it's a good restaurant. The food is flavorful and generous, the kitchen clean, the service courteous. It becomes a popular restaurant even among non-vegetarians. Catholics like it to observe their Friday abstention, Jews like it because it's effortlessly kosher, Muslims like it because they don't have to worry about the pork, Hindus like it because of the no-beef thing. Some folks even visit occasionally just for variety. Everyone is happy, Mike and Jenny are doing well. They do so well that they open other locations, thus becoming a chain.
Now, nobody is forced to patronize their restaurant. Everyone who walks through the door knows it's a vegetarian restaurant; it's not a secret. It's obvious by the name and the logo. As we imagined, some choose Meet Without Meat because they know it's vegetarian. Can you picture it?

Now let's imagine some human toothache coming through the door, being seated, and ordering.... a hamburger.
How politely would the server have to inform this customer that item isn't served there? If the customer proceeded to insist, would the proprietor of the restaurant be out of bounds to step in and invite said customer to choose another establishment for his dining experience? Should Mike Smith have to volunteer the names of his meat-serving competitors, provide a local restaurant guide or phone book, or just have the bum escorted to the door? Would it not be madness to suggest that Mike is obligated to provide transportation to Toothache's new destination? And who in their right mind would say the customer has the right to sue Meet Without Meat for not providing him with his meal of choice--a choice they find morally reprehensible?

I wonder.

And a prayer request, folks.

2009-01-22T06:06:00.000-08:00

While he's said "This ain't Oprah," I've spilled my guts here, and this is another one of those times.
Tomorrow my beloved husband goes under the knife for Lap-Band surgery. To those who noticed his comment somewhere about the "pre-surgical liquid diet," that's why.

I know it's laparoscopic, I know it's only one day, I know it's been done without complication thousands of times, I know it will make a huge difference in his quality of life and, by association my own, I know.
That doesn't change the fact that my best friend is going under general anesthesia and getting cut open, my kids will be with someone else for the day (regardless of how much I trust her, there's still that worry), and all the rest.

So, if you Gentle Readers could on this day of the March for Life just tack a prayer on for us, I'd really appreciate it.

Where have I been?

2009-01-14T20:07:00.000-08:00

In a word: Facebooking. I just started sometime the week before Christmas. When I have the chance to sit at the computer, that is.

Otherwise, I've resumed teaching my kids. And preparing their meals. I squeeze in laundry when they complain they're low on socks.

Another big drain on my time is twenty-one pounds of kamikaze toddler. Lou is determined to kill (or at least maim) himself in some creative way like one of the following.
1. Putting a blanket on his head and walking into walls until brain damage sets in
2. Trying to eat one of his older siblings' toys and choking on it (Lego and Littlest Pet Shops seem to be his favorite flavors)
3. Carrying around Gladys our Christmas Kitten, who still has all of her claws and thus might just disembowel him in an escape attempt
4. Climbing on the kitchen table, with that inherent risk of falling off, and trying to injure himself with something he finds there--like a knife or pencil, or choking on an eraser or some leftover bit of food
5. Contracting some bizarre species-jumping disease from the pets' water dish (yes, he has drunk from it), or the cats' litter box, or the human toilet (no drinking, just splashing and dropping)

I've actually gotten out the Pack-N-Play so I can wash dishes.

I hope to recommence regular posting when this phase is over, which may be just in time for potty training. Wish me luck.

There's a reason they're called Your Town's Finest.

2009-01-08T04:28:00.000-08:00

Here's an example: Officer Susan Porcello. I get the feeling her partner has it on the ball, too.

Bits of good news

2009-01-05T09:12:00.000-08:00

Things like this make me proud of the French.

And this has long been needed. Where do I sign up? Am I already a member?

We've found a solution to keeping Louie out of the dog food--put it in the dog's cage. He's flexible, though, and has discovered a new target: the cat's food.
But he's giving grouper kisses sometimes, so that makes up for it.

That kitten we were "given" just before Christmas seems to be part Labrador retriever. She licks a lot. Fingers, noses, foreheads. I think her favorite flavor is Rachel.

Winter blues

2009-01-03T08:05:00.000-08:00

I'm having a hard time realizing that Christmas, the day and the season, are over. It rushed by so quickly it seemed a dream. I'm still feeling the urge to shop for and wrap gifts, to plan the menu, to bake and decorate cookies.
Where was I when this all happened the first time? You mean it's done already? It's almost Epiphany. Where did it go?
I can say that during the sugar cookie baking, I was taking a nap with Louie. During the decorating, I washed dishes. I was in the same room, but we can only accomodate one guest before we run out of chairs and we had two. One was foretold, the other... If you think I'm I'm going to turn down a surprise visit from my mother on Christmas Eve, you must think I'm beyond heartless.
Daddy even baked a second batch of monster cookies this past Monday, and they were gone yesterday.

I think it's exacerbated by Louie's growth. A year ago he was a tiny nursling, a "baby puddle." Now he's a walking, wrestling, opinionated, exploring toddler. He's getting too big for me to nurse when I have no arms in my seat, and my arms are exhausted from holding him. It's getting on time to wean. And it's breaking my heart.

I just want to hold on to his babyness, this Christmas season, a little longer but it's like trying to catch a handful of falling snow. We don't know when we'll have another; we say when we're in a bigger house, but with the real estate market, only God knows when that will be. If it's too long, we'll miss our chance--I'm turning 38 this year and Beloved Husband will be 40.

I'm just feeling the winter blues and time going by so quickly. Christmas is gone, Louie's babyhood is slipping away, and all I can do is watch it all go.

Here's all of us.

2008-12-25T19:24:00.001-08:00

The kids are finally asleep. Madeleine got everything she wanted--even the Kit Kittredge movie she forgot to ask Santa for. Dale's first words on his LEGO Swamp Raid set were, "What I always wanted! What I always wanted!" He did insist on getting out the LEGO Harbor set as well as watching Wall-E later. Rachel was agog with the Disney Princess Shimmer Set--seven dolls, including another Sleeping Beauty. Louie loved the squishy trucks, but he's going to need some time for the Bristle Blocks.

We arrived late to Mass because of yesterday's weather--melt, refreeze into tractionless ice. Our very generous neighbor "boy" (he's now 23) pushed us out with his truck. I was reminded of what a gift every Mass is.

I was the last one into the house upon return and I wondered what I smelled when I got into the yard. "Oh, that's our turkey!" If I do say so myself, I outdid myself on it this year and everything was delicious.

It was a merry Christmas.

I still cry at Feed the World.

2008-12-22T07:49:00.000-08:00

You probably didn't need to know that, but there it is.

I think of how long it's been--24 years! How much money has been spent buying food, paying for its transport, employing aid workers to distribute it... Twenty-four years.

I realize famines have happened since the dawn of time--droughts, crop failures. What has happened in the past is, those who could, left. Of those left behind, I expect most died. There wasn't help coming from overseas to sustain them where they were; the famine came to a grim and cruel conclusion when enough had died off.

So here we are, two and a half decades and millions (billions?) of dollars later, thousands of man-hours spent. And it's still going on. The words of Sam Kinison come to mind: "We're making one trip! We're going to where the food is!" Remember Joseph in the Bible? Even that lasted for only seven years.

I wonder why the same areas are experiencing such conditions for so long. It's not politically correct, I know, to wonder why, but again--there it is. I have a theory or two--the wrong people are getting the money, for one--and I realize it's a whole host of contributing factors.

But if you can watch this video, think of your own children not having enough to eat for their whole lives, and not cry--you are made of stone.

Thanks, Maureen.

I've been wrong before, but not THIS wrong.

2008-12-18T12:20:00.000-08:00

I've had more than one individual tell me how much Rachel looks like me. Former neighbors who knew me when, other family, even Diane down there in the green dress.

I said each time, "I don't see it."

Just to check myself, I dug out a picture of myself at that same age.

So...

AM I BLIND? I mean, LEGALLY WITHOUT VISION?!

Holy cow.

Is this it, Daddy?

2008-12-16T05:37:00.001-08:00

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-15T19:12:00.000-08:00

This was taken at their dance school Christmas shindig. From left: Madeleine, Dale, Santa, Louis, and Rachel.

I thought about waiting until Christmas, but everyone else is sending out cards. Consider this ours.

Does this meet the standard?

2008-12-15T17:17:00.000-08:00

We're doing classical Catholic homeschooling--all that is true, good, and beautiful.

Does Led Zeppelin's Kashmir fall into that category?

Ah, homonyms...

2008-12-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

"Who got you this ring, Mama?"
"Daddy. It's called an 'engagement ring.' It was his way of asking me to marry him."
"What is this gem in it?"
"It's a diamond. Bigger than half a carat--it's five-eighths."
"Carrots are bigger."

Varied questions

2008-12-15T08:00:00.001-08:00

1. How long does it take to thaw a 17.46-pound turkey? Not roast; I'll read the directions for that. I just don't want to be digging the giblet bag out of ice on Christmas Eve.

2. How does one explain "Fear of the Lord" as one of the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit to a seven-year-old?

3. What can a fourth child get for his first birthday that the others haven't gotten?

4. Is it worth it to go to dance class in potentially icy conditions the last time before two weeks off? I'm thinking "no," but will adapt if the ice doesn't materialize.

Thanks, all!

A wedding picture--with flowers!

2008-12-11T08:58:00.000-08:00

Why am I posting this? Because I can.

Okay, really it's because there's someone planning a wedding and I'm offering (unsolicited but politely heard) advice. She asked what kind of flowers we got for our budget ($300), and this is a relevant shot.

That's Diane, by the way.

While I have the computer....

2008-12-10T18:17:00.001-08:00

Me, Madeleine, and Rachel: A Conversation of Girls.

"Mom, can I play with the Activity Scene?"
"If you can say its name correctly. Nativity."
"What?"
"Nate."
"Nate."
"Native."
"Native."
"Nativity."
"Native-ity."
"Okay, go on."
"Activity scene?"
"Hey, I just live here."
"No, you're on cleanup."
And Louie had poured his soup on the table.

Another "I have no words" post.

2008-12-10T18:12:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd look for a clip from The Three Musketeers at Youtube. I arrive at the page and they have one of dancing storm troopers. It's only about 30 seconds. I watched it and was amused.
Then this one showed up. It's like a train wreck--you just can't look away. It's safe for kids, just not Star Wars fans.

Christmas backorders

2008-12-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

"Mom, why didn't I get the toy I really wanted? That I put on my list before Thanksgiving? Every other kid I know got one!"

"Well, honey... I'm so sorry. Santa left a note about that. It seems it fell off his sled on his long trip. He said that when he gets back to the North Pole and gets everything all straightened out after his busy season, he's going to have the UPS guy bring it."

"When?"

"It may take a few weeks, but it'll get here."

Madness takes its toll.

2008-12-09T10:41:00.000-08:00

My brain is officially mush.
Louie woke up soaked last night--diaper leak, somehow. I got up, changed him, and tried to get him back to sleep. While there were some tender moments of gazing into each other's eyes in the semi-darkness, I think I might have traded them for the hour's worth of sleep I didn't get.

The weather is dreary. Rain, freezing rain, sleet, not really cold enough to snow but too wet to go out even to the back yard. Yuck. Icy mud, what fun.
I can't really take the kids anywhere, either. Louie has pretty much outgrown his infant car seat and the warm winter coat he got doesn't fit under the straps. We have the next size he needs, but it's buried in the shed.

The kids finished school this morning, demonstrating that their enthusiasm doesn't depend on my energy level. One good thing.

So, Gentle Reader, tell me something good. Or funny, or lighthearted. I'm feeling apathetic.

Okay, I'm finally motivated for this.

2008-12-08T17:16:00.000-08:00

I've ranted before about the dumbing down of our public education system. I've wondered in my available moments about school book choices. Here's some concrete examples I can provide.

In eighth grade, my class read Paul Zindel's The Pigman and S. E. Hinton's The Outsiders. [We even watched the movie for the second.] Neither of these contain really objectionable material; they don't even have swearing if I remember right. They kiss--once--in the first; and they do drink beer. The second does have a murder but it is related not witnessed.

Not so bad. But are they literature? Are they worthy of study in school? Aren't there better things out there?

Before I'd gotten there, a class titled something like Horror Literature had read Poe, Blatty's The Exorcist, King's The Dead Zone, Levin's Stepford Wives and Rosemary's Baby, and Amityville Horror. No joke. Someone else I know studied Salinger's Catcher in the Rye in ninth grade. I have a feeling there's somebody I know who might find such an idea... problematic.

Then I read about a school district bowdlerizing Girl, Interrupted for class. Why? Again, I ask: aren't there better things out there that they don't need to tear pages out of to present in class?

Just to make me feel better (and test your memory), what's your nomination for the worst book you had to read in school? Not most boring; the one with the least redeeming value.

I'm starting to feel left out.

2008-11-26T05:25:00.000-08:00

Anyone else know what I mean?

And it can't be the water. The geographical diversity says so.

This is the Apocalypse.

2008-11-25T16:43:00.000-08:00

It's akin to when Alice Cooper was on The Muppet Show. And this is my first time embedding anything; I hope it works.

Yes, it is what you think it is. "It's a good thing."

Wouldn't it be great?!

2008-11-23T19:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, hear me out on this one.
We need a bigger house, right? There is a preponderance, and embarrassment of riches, of larger houses for sale right now at bargain prices. Oh, yes. There are.
Well, we can't afford to buy one--even one of those superbargains out there--because we have a house of our own to offload. Hence the idea.

Wouldn't it be great to, like, trade the bank? We're current on our mortgage, after all. Couldn't we just give them this little one we bought when our family was two adults, an imminent child, a dog, two cats, some fish, and a guinea pig, and they'd give us a three-bedroom, bath-and-a-half, basement, garage and nice sized yard?
I mean, we'd keep making the payments and all. They wouldn't be out any money, really. It would help the property values in a nicer area to have one less vacant house, after all. It would just be a different vacant house.

Right. While I'm at it, I'll ask for a pony.

"Do you know the street value of this mountain?"

2008-11-16T15:52:00.000-08:00

Trying to briefly explain Better Off Dead to a seven-year-old who just wants her allowance is not easy.

Just so's you know.

Where to from here?

2008-11-09T18:59:00.000-08:00

It's been about a week since the election. Just about everyone has recovered from their hangover. Some were out celebrating, others medicating; either way, we've woken up and our next president is determined.
If you agree with his views and are enthusiastic about him implementing his policies and keeping his campaign promises, great. You may just want to stop reading here.

I, for one, do not agree and am not enthusiastic.
I allowed myself a few days of wallowing in self-pity--that and four out of six residents here had the pukes. Laundry, careful menu plans, and TLC were the immediate orders of the day.

Now what do we do? We act. Not as in Sarah Bernhardt, but as in Dorothy Day. Sitting around navel-gazing wishing things had turned out differently is not constructive. Neither are "1.20.13" or "Fresh Prince of Bill Ayers" bumperstickers, no matter how tempting.
I started preparing my To-Do list on Tuesday while walking in the park. How can I be pro-active? Start with choosing what's important to you and get involved.
For one, we're going to finally join HSLDA. Homeschooling is very important to me and I don't want that right messed with. These folks have been around for years, they've got the lay of the land and the networks already established. I don't need to re-invent the wheel--they have people for that. The newsletter will keep me informed on what's in the hopper legislatively so I can keep ahead of the game.
The other is more personal. I'm going to get more involved in the pro-life movement. Will I be bombing abortion clinics? Not hardly, not even softly; neither will I get involved with an organization that does. Will I be praying in front of clinics? Quite likely. (If you want to know where and when, I've got info on one this Saturday.) Will I continue donating to National Right to Life? Of course. Will I give more, including my time? Probably.

Do I need to start from scratch to make a difference? No. If you're worried about Obama and guns, join an organization that advocates for your Second Amendment rights. I've heart tell of one. If you're worried about other issues, that's what internet searches are for. Look it up, get informed, get involved.

Mind you, this is all stuff we should have been doing already. It's just giving a focus to our energy, motivation to put our money where our mouth is. Stay informed, stay active.
After all, another election is coming in two years. We don't want to be caught slacking.

Who can tell me about this picture?

2008-11-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

Anything at all. Even your silly theories.

Been a busy week.

2008-11-07T19:32:00.000-08:00

What with school, keeping Louie out of the litterbox, watching him weave like a drunken sailor from love seat to computer chair to kitchen, the excitement of the election (Daddy took the day off and forbade me to touch the computer so I wouldn't get all twisted on exit polls), daily Mass on Wednesday and today, half of the family dealing with intestinal trouble, blogging has taken a back seat.

But the kids keep growing up. This poignant moment happened Monday.
I had just tied Dale's tap shoes and was kneeling before his seated self. I made exaggerated kissy noises at him, expecting a "Thanks, Mom" and a kiss before he went in to class. What did I get?
An embarrassed and quiet, "Oh, Mom," and a hasty squirm past me.

That lump was tough to swallow.

A budding toddler keeps you busy.

2008-10-31T19:35:00.001-07:00

And water is wet.

Louie is walking more and more. Which means he gets in to more and more trouble, faster.

For example, there's this little room in our house with a big, cool white thing. Cool both ways: temperature and interest. It's even got water in it that he can reach and splash in! Yes, folks, he's discovered the toilet.
We try to keep the lid down as he hasn't figured out yet how to open it. That'll be next week.

He hasn't developed the same fascination with sampling the dog food that his older siblings had, which is sort of a relief. I think it's because the dog eats all of her food before anyone has a chance to play with it. Instead, he his hobby is to bang her empty bowl on the floor. It's stainless steel so he won't break it.
Or, more likely, head over to the cat's litter box. It's like a magnet.

I can't wait until he's got the hang of walking. Really. If I do wait, he'll be ahead of me by a mile.

Nine years.

2008-10-23T14:30:00.000-07:00

Happy anniversary, best friend. I mean it when I tell our children every night that marrying you was the smartest thing I ever did.

Hey, cat-owning moms!

2008-10-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

When the baby gets into the litterbox, do you wash the whole baby or just the parts affected?

I erred on the side of caution.

Christmas in October!

2008-10-17T06:58:00.000-07:00

You know how usually babies' first Christmas involves lots of blinking and noisemaking with the paper, along with general confusion and a tantrum or two? The whole "unwrapping presents" is completely beyond them, right?
Not so fast.
Lou's getting in his "unwrapping" practice with the three or four dozen rolls of Costco toilet paper in the bathroom.

Just because

2008-10-17T06:52:00.001-07:00

Eomer was one of my favorites from the LOTR movies. And he's easy to look at. And right now, this about sums it up for me.

Tip, Rachel Lucas. Language warning.

It finally happened.

2008-10-16T12:16:00.000-07:00

We figured out how Madeleine could get an American Girl doll. She bought it with her First Communion gift money.
She is thrilled with it and has not let it out of her sight since the UPS guy brought it.

Since there are lots of accessories and outfits--okay, not as many as Barbie, but still--I would think Santa's job is going to be a tad easier for our Tall Girl this year.
And next, too, probably.

Because it feels so good to stop.

2008-10-15T09:05:00.000-07:00

R: "I'm sorry, Mom! I'm sorry! I'M SORRYYY!"
Me: "Go calm down in your room. Dale, why is Rachel screaming?"
D: "She went like this [squeezes his cheeks hard] to me." (We would call that scratching because squishing your face is too long.)
Me: "Why did she do that?"
D: "I was going to tell that she scratched me."
Me: "Why did she scratch you?"
D: "Because I was going to tell on her."
Me: "What did she do that you were going to tell on her?"
D: "She scratched me."
Me: "You were going to tell on her for scratching and so she scratched you?[Affirmative nod.] How many times did she scratch?"
D: "Once."

My head hurts.

Less than three months!

2008-10-15T05:43:00.001-07:00

Yes, that Christmas craziness is approaching like a freight train. I'm taking it upon myself to offer some survival solutions. Given there's a spectrum of family situations, but most encounter the same kinds of problems, feel free to add your own survival tips in the comments.

1. Use Kmart's layaway. I got this from Kate Gosselin (of Jon and Kate Plus Eight). It spreads out the payments, it's easier to keep within your budget, and the stuff stays out of your house that much longer. What's not to like?

2. Hat and mitten sets are never a bad idea. While Madeleine has actually worn out mittens she kept them so long, Dale has managed to lose them on their very first trip out. I'm told it's a boy thing, and it's astonishing how fast boys do this. By Christmas, with three kids (I'll still be keeping track of Lou's this year), we've usually lost at least one hat and one mitten. By Dale's birthday in February, he's usually managed to lose at least one more, so he gets another set for his birthday that I put aside in late fall. If by some chance I don't do that, I have an ace in the hole. My mother-in-law knows how to knit, God bless her. Trying to find hats and mittens in February is tough, what with the bathing suits and shorts already out.

3. Memberships to local attractions are gifts that keep on giving. How many of us say, "I'd love to go there, but tickets are so expensive!" Like the zoo, local art museum, or science center. Once you're a member, the cost is negligible. Those things take up no space at all, which is a consideration for us, and you'll be grateful all year long. Especially on those nasty winter days where the kids NEED to get out, having somewhere interesting to go where the only cost is parking.

4. Magazine subscriptions for your young readers. They only take up space for a little while and are term-limited. You can cut them up for art projects. They encourage reading without the time commitment of books. I think mine will be getting some this year, for example, Ranger Rick or National Geographic for kids.

Now your turn. What are your tips?

All together now....

2008-10-14T06:37:00.001-07:00

I'm so glad we're homeschooling.

I'm so glad we're homeschooling.

I'm so glad we're homeschooling.

We could have put off buying furnace filters.

2008-10-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

Seems the furnace doesn't want to work. It was fine in May when we shut it off, but it seems to want more of a summer vacation. At least our house is well-insulated and hasn't gotten below 61 in the morning, and it's supposed to be in the 70's later in the week.
The Trustworthy Furnace Guy just left, since we're waiting on finding a couple parts--one is a gas valve, the other is the tough one. I don't remember the name.
We're looking at $500. And toeing the line on budget-limits on this one.
He told me frankly, "I'm not a salesman, especially not a pushy one. But you might want to think about a new furnace come tax return time. We typically put in eight or nine in February for people we first saw in early fall."

St. Joseph, keeper of the home, pray for us. St. Joan of Arc, who knows a bit about keeping warm, pray for us.

What to do with LIMA BEANS?!

2008-10-04T07:02:00.000-07:00

Madeleine's favorite food is lima beans. Seriously.
When I make chicken noodle soup, if the mixed veggies have them, I graciously pick them out so she can have my share. Such is the sacrifice of motherhood. Once when she hadn't realized the soup had them, it was like Christmas come early. "Mom, this soup has lima beans in it!"

I've told you my kids are weird.

Anyway. What can I do with them to serve them as a side dish? I have a package of frozen beans, but eating them straight is... more than I can bear. They just don't sound good with cheese. I'm taking suggestions for how to make my little girl happy without horrifying myself.

The Little Things of my life

2008-10-02T13:25:00.000-07:00

I've said before, my life is comprised of little things. This week, we've had some big Little Things.

Madeleine has learned how to ride a two-wheeler. She and Daddy tried on her little purple one but she's gotten too big for it. What to do? I thought of the 20-inch one her brother won this past spring, and they were off. She still needs practice with turns and starting herself, but that should come by next spring. She'll be taller then and able to touch the ground more easily, not to mention Tax Return Time will mean a girl's bike for her. She wants streamers on the handle grips.
And she just learned how to tie her shoes. Yes, it's an almost-archaic skill like cursive writing, especially for girls. My mother had to force me to learn back in the day. Today, though, she's attending her cousin's soccer game and brought out a pair of tie shoes we'd been given.
"Mom, can I wear these?"
"Sure. You know what? They're not going to be here for another 45 minutes. We can try to teach you to tie them."
I went with the easier bunny-ear method and she got it the second try. Now if Dale could get it, we'd be set for tap and church!

What of the others? Louie has found something better than taste-testing Hot Wheels: rolling them on the floor. Or his tray. Or whatever flat surface he can reach.
"Good news and bad news, son."
"What's the good news?"
"You have a little brother."
"What's the bad news?"
"He wants your toys."

Like I said, little things. Bike riding and shoe tying and rolling trucks.

I finally got asked.

2008-09-30T06:09:00.000-07:00

"What do you do when you don't know something?"

This was from a very nice mother of a teammate on Dale's soccer team. She had asked what grade the other kids were in and, after I'd tried to explain, I told her we're homeschooling. There was a game on, after all, and our sons were on the field. Then she asked her question.
I turned away from the game to look her right in the eye and spoke very clearly. "She's in second grade."
I don't know if she realized how insulting the question is and she certainly wasn't trying to be. She explained that her fourth-grader brings home some math she doesn't know (probably Fuzzy), so...
I tactfully pointed out that I have the teacher's manuals, so really it's not an issue. Seriously, folks, do you really think an elementary school teacher, especially in the upper-grades, has all of the answers right at the tip of the tongue? That's why they HAVE teacher's manuals.
A difference is that I've been along for the ride. I'm not going to be surprised by something in seventh grade; I'll have been along for sixth. That difference is more important than one realizes especially when it comes to math or science.
Back when I was teaching other people's kids, besides, I never claimed to know everything. My students would say, "You're a teacher, you're supposed to know everything." I don't know where they got that idea, but I'd tell them, "No, a good teacher doesn't necessarily know all the answers. She knows where to find them."

So what do I do when I don't know? The same thing employed teachers do--look it up.

This financial crisis

2008-09-29T13:10:00.001-07:00

has me all atwitter. I'm using a British-level understatement; I never have studied economics so this whole thing goes mostly over my head. I just see the effects of surviving the Depression on my mother (she's Silent Generation, not Boomer like most folks my age) and part of me curls up in darkness. My grandmother was worse, I'm told, so I was spared that.
I suppose I should be grateful. My husband has about as secure a job as can be imagined, and it has benefits. My children are healthy for the most part--and what would fall under "unhealthy" can be managed. We have a home with all the modern amenities--electricity, running water, a working furnace. Among my family, that hasn't always been the case. My kids even have dance and swim classes. We have food in the fridge and two working vehicles (knock wood).
While love doesn't fill the stomach, it does fill the heart in ways I can't quantify. Love we have in abundance.

I think of those who don't have all of these advantages--a secure job, health, a home, plus the fringe benefits. We all need prayers.

Must be that Fuzzy Math.

2008-09-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

Pittsburgh Schools declare all assignments half done. Is that optimism? Or delusion?

You know, I don't think this is going to help their math scores.

I don't think they'd accept this from homeschoolers.

Come on, I know you have some quips ready on this. The snark just writes itself.

Damage controlled

2008-09-24T19:28:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, the summer after Dale was born, we as a family had our first experiences with head lice. [No, we're not dealing with it again.] Neither of us parents had ever had it--kind of remarkable, considering all the facts. The horror of it was overwhelming.
My husband asked me, "What do we do if Dale has them? He's not even six months old!"
I told him, "Boys are easy. You shave their heads. Girls, if you want them to keep their hair, are much tougher." It was irrelevant, anyway; he didn't have them. He needed hair first.
Madeleine and I, however, were right infested.
The Late Great Christina came over and went through my head. She even brought some homemade eucalyptus oil, or some scent we humans didn't mind but the little critters did. We joked about a pin she had: "Friends help you move, good friends help you move bodies." I said it needed a third line: "Really good friends come over and pick your nits."
Anyway, we dealt with the little suckers twice that summer. The second time, I told my husband in tears that he couldn't leave me with the situation. There was no way I could do all of the necessary laundry, check Madeleine's head, and take care of both small kids on my own. I didn't care what he told them at work but he was staying home to help me. He did.
When I found out where we'd gotten them, I was really kicking myself for my softheartedness. I had continued to take Madeleine to her aunt's once a week to see her cousin, even though I was home for the summer. One of the other little girls, whom I'll call Jenny, imported the bugs... twice.
It gets longer than that. Where was Jenny getting them? Hmmm. This little girl had an older brother. He had one daddy, the little girl another, and Mom was married to a third guy. Jenny spent alternate weekends with her father, who had a girlfriend. Jenny would go with Daddy to visit his girlfriend, who had daughters... that for some reason, couldn't manage to eradicate head lice.

I've thought of that lately and the environment my kids are growing up in. Their friends, their cousins, their parents all come from two-parent, married-couple families. It's all they know. My son even noticed enough to ask where Grandma's husband is on his own. ("Heaven," his big sister told him. "That's Mama's daddy and he's in Heaven.") I want this to be normal for my kids--Mom and Dad married to each other. Period. I don't want to explain parenting time, custody arrangements, holiday transfers, step-relatives, or any of it. I don't want that to be normal.
I read some study that found that even if children come from stable two-parent homes, if a significant number of their classmates don't, it raises their incidence of at-risk behavior. From classmates.

You know, maybe head lice isn't the worst thing they can pick up from school. At least you know when it's gone.