The Stefo Crew

2012-02-18T17:08:00.001-05:00

WHY has it taken me nearly 44 years to find out about this??

Lesson Learned.

2012-02-17T13:27:00.001-05:00

There is a semi-ridiculous story circulating on Facebook.

One version goes like this:

A child says to his mom "mommy, I colored your sheets with lipstick", with anger she starts to hit her child until he was unconcious. Then she regrets what she has done, and crying says to her child, "please open your eyes", but it was too late, his tiny heart has stopped beating. When she walked into her bedroom, the ...sheet said "I LOVE YOU MOMMY."

It's designed to tug on the heartstrings and raise awareness about child abuse. And silly though it was, it made me cry. Not because I've ever beaten a kid unconscious, but because it brought to mind vividly of one of my "bad mom" moments.

About 10 years ago, I purchased our first set of "fine" linens for our king-sized bed. Until then all we'd ever had to sleep on were relatives' hand-me-downs or bargain bin sheets. But all the little midnight visitors kept crowding us out, so we finally upgraded to a king bed. None of our relatives had a king, so there were no second-hand sheets to be had.

I found a set of 450 thread count sheets at a pretty good sale price. They were heavenly. Silky-smooth and cool, with rows of satiny embroidered edging. We were immediately ruined for life - from that moment on, my motto became, "Life is too short to sleep on cheap sheets."

Isn't it beautiful?

That year Brian decided he wanted to be a thief for Halloween. We already had a black-and-white-striped outfit, so all he needed was a mask and a loot bag. I told him to take an old pillowcase - we had several - and draw a big dollar sign on it. It could be a money bag that doubled as a candy bag! Brilliant, right?

Not. He came back shortly thereafter with this. In case it isn't obvious enough, it's one of my pair of good pillowcases. And that dollar sign was done in black Sharpie.

You saw that one coming, didn't you?

Boy oh boy oh boy did I flip. I didn't hit him - I'm not the whupping kind - but he took a verbal beating that day. He was always the type - still is - that just stood and took whatever verbal acid rain I poured out on him. He wouldn't cry - still doesn't - but I could see my words pummeling him, and I couldn't stop myself. Inside, he was beating up on himself just as hard - still does - and I could see his wincing eyes, but sometimes when I get on a roll, I don't know when to say when.

When I was finished thrashing him, he went away, probably to go feel worthless somewhere, and I still fumed. Over a pillowcase.

I know I apologized later, and tried to explain why his choice had made me so upset. But it's too late then. Those words can't be taken back. I don't remember if he used the offending pillowcase that year for trick-or-treat, or not.

Over the years I have tried to remember to take his stoic, sensitive nature into consideration when I am upset with him. I don't always succeed, but I hope someday when he looks back at his childhood that there won't be TOO much to forgive me for.

In the meantime, I still like to sleep on finer sheets. And I like to include a special pillowcase when making my bed.

Brian, I'm still sorry. I love you.

2012-02-16T10:58:00.001-05:00

Notice all the hershey kiss wrappers and the slightly guilty look.

2012-02-04T12:00:00.001-05:00

Regina, 14 months

2012-01-27T08:08:00.001-05:00

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2012-01-22T18:05:00.001-05:00

Regina @ 13 months

2012-01-19T16:17:00.001-05:00

Cute subject, crappy video quality.

Look at her sitting there, happy as a clam,
chewing on a marker and a small cube.

Good Grief.

2012-01-19T14:49:00.001-05:00

That is Brian up there, chainsawing a tree from the top down.

Glad I wasn't there.

2012-01-13T22:26:00.001-05:00

We're goin' Old School.

2012-01-13T12:39:00.001-05:00

2012-01-12T21:35:00.001-05:00

Fashionista

2012-01-10T11:36:00.001-05:00

Mommy, are you gonna be mad?

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2012-01-09T22:09:00.001-05:00

A Tribute to Our Van

2012-01-02T02:10:00.012-05:00

Last February, my husband was bringing some trees down with his chainsaw when, against all odds, a tree decided to defy the laws of physics and gravity and fall, backwards AND uphill, smashing the cab of our 12-passenger van.

The gray van joined our family in February of 2007, about six weeks after the birth of our twins brought our family size to 10. Before that I was driving a station wagon that seated 8. All of us couldn't fit in it at one time, and two infant carseats made the interior uncomfortably cramped. I didn't even know my husband was buying this van until one evening I was driving his car one way down the street and I saw him driving the van toward me. He slowed down, rolled down the window, and called, "Wanna go for a ride? Pull that thing in the back and let's go!"

We called it Fluffy, on account of the first three letters of the license plate - FLF. It had rear wheel drive, which meant I was terrified to drive it in any kind of winter weather unless my husband put studded snow tires on it. It took us to Florida, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Ohio, Georgia. It faithfully limped to and from Washington, D.C. one year while having some kind of problem that involved overheating, stalling, and not being able to exceed 40 mph. We painted the windows purple and white for football games, loaded it up with bicycles (inside and out) to go on family trail bike-rides, took our oldest son to the emergency room in it, laid out on a rear seat, after he fell off our high porch. It sheltered us on that bitterly cold night when we had to evacuate our house due to a fire, and drove around aimlessly while we wondered if we'd have a home to come back to. A whole lot of living took place in that van.

Granted, it was a rusty P-O-S. Gray paint, gray seats, gray floor. It had only the original radio. The side windows didn't actually open, just propped out a few inches, and the rear blower didn't work. At one time, there had been A/C, but the system was not rechargeable. Thus was it roasting hot in the summer and an icebox in the winter. The cargo doors were rusting out at the bottom, and it had some kind of rear latch malfunction - once in a while the doors would randomly swing open upon acceleration. Its biggest draw was that it had vinyl seats and a rubber floor. Not the most attractive, to be sure, but I didn't give a rip if somebody was carsick, or careless with their coke, chicken nuggets or barbecue sauce. Any messes were easily taken down by removing all of our junk and whipping out the garden hose. Seriously.

Speaking of messes - boy, could it hold a lot of stuff. There were four rows of seats, with ample space between the front seats and along the side doors. If that wasn't enough space, there was a 4' by 6' cargo area in the rear. We could fit Dad, Mom, as many kids as we could find, and a grandmother or a friend or two, PLUS all of our stuff.

And then my husband went and dropped a tree on it.

I know how terrible he felt about it, how painful it was to watch that tree come down despite his careful preparations. But even as it happened, he accepted that all things happen with God's own perfect timing, and that the van is just a thing. God would provide for our needs, and we had to trust in that.

After about 6 weeks of looking, we found a 9-passenger Suburban in our price range that would accommodate us. At first I didn't like it at all - not only did it not have nearly the room the van had, but it was too new and too nice.

Fluffy was something of an eyesore (the older kids called it the Clampett van) but I didn't worry if something happened to it. Heck, the first month I had it, I backed into every telephone pole in town. There was a nice dent in the rear corner panel where I slid into a pole trying to turn into our snowy alley. One time, in a Dollar General parking lot, I backed out of my parking place and punched into the rear end of the poor little car behind me - actually lifted it off the ground. The van's looks were not the biggest concern on my mind.

Now I had this pristine Suburban, just waiting to be destroyed by my wild things. For the first few months I had a ban on food or drinks, but I couldn't keep up the resistance. It was about the time I caught the twins scribbling on the upholstery with crayons that I conceded defeat.

I am still not overly fond of the Suburban, but have made my peace with resignation, and of course I am grateful that we have any safe, reliable vehicle at all.

When the twins were learning easy words last spring, I realized that they could read all the sounds I needed - ee, an, ike, said, short vowels - to tell the story of Dad, the Tree, and the Van. And thus was a classic born:

Dad, the Tree, and the Van

Dad likes to chop trees.

A tree fell on the van.

Dad can not stop the tree.

A tree can crush a van.

The van said, "Crunch."

Now we have no van.

Dad is sad.

The End.

I did all the illustrations myself. Be jealous.

A Prayer to Begin a New Year

2012-01-01T02:25:00.000-05:00

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself.

And the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

A Little Bit of Regina

2011-12-30T02:34:00.002-05:00

Regina had her first birthday recently, which went unblogged until now due to technical difficulties. Here's a smidgen of her latest doings.

Happy 5th Birthday, Twins! Sorry I'm A Few Days Late.

2011-12-30T02:19:00.003-05:00

Can't believe they're 5 ALREADY! They have really grown up in the past few months. Dresses that were floor length in the summer are mid-calf now. They are getting so leggy and coltish. They're changing, too. They're cracking jokes, and they can participate in a successfully executed game of "Pass It Down The Alley." Right now their biggest hurdle is being able to complete a song on Dance Revolution with a passing score.

I tried to take a nice birthday photo of them, but they kept giving me the goofy buck-toothed grins. So here you have them in all their goofy birthday glory. Natalie isn't taller anymore; she's kneeling on a chair.

e them

Brian and his Mam Mam

2011-12-15T19:38:00.003-05:00

Bri

Blue Light Special

2011-12-15T00:21:00.003-05:00

Clean-up on aisle 4!

Sweet.

2011-12-12T11:46:00.001-05:00

Noelle is sweet. There's no other word to describe her.

When I ask, "Who's going to help me clean __________ up?" she is on her feet and helping before I finish talking.

Whenever she sees me looking her way, especially with a camera, she stops what she's doing and gives me a sweet smile, compared to some of the other hams in the family who stick out their tongues or make a crazy face.

Noelle - smiling. Natalie - sticking tongue out.

They all saw me taking a picture. Guess who's the only one that smiled?

She's always the one to give in to Natalie whenever Natalie pitches a fit over who gets the red cup, who gets to sit next to mom, who gets to pick the story, etc.

The other morning, the three youngest were all in our bed after their nightly migration. And for some reason, they weren't content to rest quietly - they all had to thrash and flop until they were mashed up against each other. Natalie's head was hanging off the edge of the bed. Regina was close to putting her fingers in Noelle's nose. None of them were sleeping soundly, but every time I tried to separate them, they would, in their sleep, coalesce again into a fitful conglomeration.

L-R: Regina, Noelle, Natalie.

Regina was especially fitful. She kept scooching and throwing her head around with a mighty flop. Eventually the inevitable happened: she scooched next to Noelle and brought her head down - smack! - right in the middle of Noelle's face. Noelle instantly woke up crying, but the next thing she said melted my heart.

WAAAIIIIL - WAAAHHHH - and through her sobs: "Regina! Are you okay?"

Bless her little heart.

Do You See What I Am Dealing With Here?

2011-11-21T15:32:00.005-05:00

Check out what I found in Conor's science book.

Poor Poor Pitiful Me.

2011-11-11T11:36:00.004-05:00

Regina wasn't happy about being put up for a nap. She screamed and yelled for quite a while. When all fell silent, I crept up to retrieve a schoolbook and to put a blanket on her little bare feet.

I found her sleeping like this, sitting up in a crumpled heap in the corner of her crib.

Peek-a-boo!

2011-11-10T20:29:00.004-05:00

BOYCOTT BLACK FRIDAY.

2011-11-10T15:46:00.001-05:00

I am single-handedly trying to start a grass roots movement to opt out of the madness that Black Friday has become. If you also think that it's just a ploy by merchants to get people out and spending, it's the most blatant display of consumerism and greed imaginable, and completely contrary to the spirit of Christmas, then I encourage you to spread the word.

As if Black Friday hasn't already grown into monstrous proportions, as if it doesn't reach new depths of violence and greed each year, now the trend is to begin the shopping on Thanksgiving Day, a day traditionally reserved for family and thankfulness.

It isn't a popular position to take up, but people trampling each other at 4 a.m. over a two-hundred-dollar laptop or the latest toy (which will be forgotten a few weeks after Christmas) is NOT the meaning of preparing for Christmas. Just Google "Black Friday fight" and you will find hundreds of examples of greed, violence, and selfishness. This is not what we were created to be.

Let's take back the holiday and remake it into what it was meant to be, one family at a time. Speak out!

The reason your hotel mattress is so uncomfortable.

2011-11-08T09:04:00.003-05:00

Saturday, October 29, 2011, 3:00 p.m.

2011-10-29T22:12:00.003-04:00

Saturday, October 29, 2011, 3:00 p.m.

Bad Swimming Girl is back again!

2011-10-27T14:34:00.005-04:00

Black Walnuts

2011-10-08T19:53:00.003-04:00

This time of year, the roadsides are littered with fallen black walnuts. Usually you see the hulls on the ground with the turning leaves still on the tree.

I was fascinated while driving by this little tree, which has lost all its leaves already but is still hanging on to most of its fruit. .

Lookee What SHE Can Do!

2011-10-08T19:52:00.005-04:00

Regina finally got the hang of crawling this past week.

Until this week, she used to largely stay where you put her. Sadly, those days are over now. Now, the work begins. Not only do we have to watch her with an eagle eye. now it's time to be extra vigilant about what's on the floor. Legos. Barbie shoes. Pencils. Brian has a horrible habit of leaving a trail of toothpicks through the house. Every time we bring firewood into the house, we drop bits of bark. It boggles the mind. We are going to have to vacuum until our arms fall off.

Having said all that, she's so awfully cute when she crawls. And she's so much happier to be put down now, because she can get around on her own. While this picture was taken, she spent a solid hour playing on the floor with her sisters, scooting here and there. She's NEVER been happy that long without being held, usually by ME. She'd crawl over to the jumper, pull herself up, see something interesting, crawl over to it. Her sisters would catch her attention, and she'd scoot over that way.

And she managed to eat only one little twig.

Wow, my living room looks almost clean in this picture. Trust me, it's not.

And The Blogging Mama Made a Mad Dash For the Computer

2011-10-03T16:09:00.002-04:00

Apples and peanut butter. MmmMmmM.

Two twins sit side by side, having a snack at the dining table.

The first one turns to the second twin and asks, "Are we still best friends?"

The second twin says, with a reassuring grin, "Of COURSE we are!"

My Gypsy Daughter

2011-09-28T23:45:00.003-04:00

With Sarah being away at college, we mainly communicate through texts or pictures. She tells me I send her enough pictures of the baby to make a daily calendar, or at least a monthly one. She (Sarah) is also noticeably absent from my usual blogging, owing to her general scarcity. The other night I sent her a picture of one of the twins, clean and shiny, fresh from the tub. Sarah tried to guess which twin it was (wrongly) and then shot back this picture of her own.

As for the gypsy part, it's sort of her "thing" for the moment.

The "mystery twin"

Another clean, shiny kid

"Take my picture!" Don't ask.

2:33 p.m., Any Given Weekday

2011-09-27T22:01:00.011-04:00

This picture speaks volumes, if you know what to listen for.

I’ve been homeschooling my kids since 1998. None of the children who are currently homeschooled, with the exception of Clare for her kindergarten year, have ever been in traditional school. 12 days ago, (on Thursday the 15^th) Clare, who is 10, faced off with me and told me she doesn’t want to do her schoolwork. This was not a news flash. We'd been having issues with her cooperation for almost two years. She was just being honest - sassy, but honest - but I was tired of threatening her and telling her how much easier she had it with me rather than in school, tired of her draining me of time and energy and enthusiasm. Within a few minutes I had called the principal and made an appointment, and before she knew what hit her, she started school last Monday. I cried about the decision for 2 straight days, and she cried every day in school for the first week.

It’s Tuesday of the second week now, and both of us have stopped crying, although we still both have mixed feelings about this development. We are spending the same amount of time on after-school homework that we used to spend on all of her daily work put together. She misses being home, being with her sisters, spending time with me, and she regrets losing the freedom we used to enjoy. She's sorry that she didn't cooperate more. She wishes she could just come back home. I don’t think she’s learned enough of a lesson yet. We agreed that she has to finish out the year, but that seems so terribly long to me. I want her to do well in school, but not so well that she loves it and never wants to be homeschooled again.

And yet, without her, I’m getting a lot more done with my other kids. The younger girls are getting regular lessons every day now, where before I often ran out of time. Noelle will be 5 on the day after Christmas, and she has already progressed to the point where she can read 75% of everything she sees. The “reading” switch has been turned on in her head, and now she can’t stop herself!!! And Theresa, who is almost 8, still wasn’t reading fluently, but in just the past 2 weeks she’s made huge improvements. The small increase in time we're put in has already reaped huge dividends.

Because Clare needs to get up early, all the girls have been put to bed earlier so that the house quiets down enough for her to be able to sleep. She is notoriously nosy, and can't settle down if they're being noisy in the hall or the next bedroom.

There's another bonus I should mention - since Clare needs to catch her bus at 7:18 a.m., we have been getting up at 6:30 a.m. every weekday. I have never been a morning person, so this has opened up a whole world of extra time that I didn't even know existed! (Just kidding, but only barely) I have several hours of the peace I crave before the baby and the twins wake up. If we get cracking, Brian and I can complete his courseload by 10:00 a.m., instead of us just getting up and moving by the same time. I still haven't figured out how to work in all the cooking and cleaning too, but hey, it's only been 7 days. Give me time.

So here I am, caught in this conundrum. Because Clare is in school, I have this extra time. If she were back at home, my motivation to get up early would diminish severely. We'd probably fall back into our late bed/late rise pattern. But having her in school was my last resort, and it was never part of my dream for our family. All of the things she likes about school are the social aspects: recess, seeing her friends, lunches. There is tuition to be paid - we're paying for her to socialize? Why is it that the school has her for seven hours during the day, but they send her home with two hours of homework that she can't even do, because she didn't understand the teachers' explanations? If she can sit with me and do two hours of someone else's assignments, why couldn't she have just cooperated with me in the first place?? Then there's the endless fundraising, school uniforms, gym uniforms, new shoes, yada yada yada. And did I mention that it's no coincidence that by the end of her very. first. week. she and several others in our family had caught cold?

There's no neat ending to this post, just a jagged hole in our day that used to be filled with Clare, for better or for worse. And every day at 2:32, we go to meet the bus that brings her back to us. They miss her, I miss her, and you can see how happy they all are for her to be back.

Postscript 10/21/11

That "cold" she caught turned out to be pneumonia. She missed the next eight days of school and lost 9 pounds, but she's fully mended now.

For The Record

2011-09-11T02:20:00.008-04:00

My experience of September 11, 2001, as I remember it:

We were staying that week in Ocean City, New Jersey, in a blue rental beach house in the 3400 block of Central Ave. "We" consisted of Andy &Michele and our then-"enormous" brood of 5 kids - Sarah (10), Scott (8), Brian (5), Conor (3), and Clare, (3 months), as well as my mother, who was still well enough to travel with us.

Beach houses come with standard cable TV, sometimes one in every room. Since we had taken the plunge and canceled cable in the fall of 1998, the only chances the kids had to flip channels and melt their brains were when they visited grandparents or during our beach vacation. Consequently, the television(s) were on nonstop (it was their vacation too, after all) and Andy and I did our level best to ignore them, turn them off, or pry the kids away from them.

That particular Tuesday morning Andy had taken the older kids down to the beach by 8:00 a.m. to fly kites, while I stayed behind to care for the baby and the younger ones. When I finally made my way to the living room just before 9:00 a.m., the television was on AGAIN with my mother glued to the set. The first plane had crashed into the tower about ten minutes prior.

Now you have to understand, my mother is one of those who couldn't miss "her shows" - every morning news program, Rosie, Oprah, the evening news, the daily number, every single Philllies game and Tiger Woods match, and "Wheel." I hated it. You couldn't talk to her or even get between her and the television when her programs were on. Heaven forbid she miss the daily number. What was the answer to that puzzle? Did they win the trip to Hawaii? Incessant boring golf matches. Aargh! Spending a week living with it day and night was wearing on my nerves. So when she called me over to watch the coverage, my reaction was, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. A plane crashed into a building." It was unarguably a tragedy for all those involved, but there are lots of sad things in this world. Why should I watch one more? I headed down to the beach to watch the kites.

Scott received an awesome blue biplane kite for his birthday that year, and it was a perfect day for flying - brilliantly blue skies dotted with puffy clouds, a brisk ocean breeze, an empty beach drenched with warm golden sunshine. The only hitch was that his kite only came with about a hundred feet of string. I volunteered to pop over to the boardwalk kite shop to get a longer spool.

In the kite shop, all the televisions were also on the same channels, and by then the second plane had struck. I bought a 500 foot spool of string while keeping one eye on the screens, as we were all starting to piece together the information and realize that this wasn't just a bizarre coincidence. The sun-drenched morning seemed to grow darker as a knot of fear twisted up in the pit of my stomach. Everything wasn't right with the world. It occurred to me for the first time that this life I was living, this peace and relaxation and safety I enjoyed and took for granted, was nothing more than a fragile facade that could be shattered at someone's whim. We were vulnerable. I was scared.

I took the kite string back to the beach and helped Scott tie it on while I related everything I knew so far to Andy and the kids. Scott was really anxious to get the biplane kite going high, so we stayed on the beach for a while, but the anxiety and fear of the unknown was growing all the while. Scott got the biplane going so high and so fast that it wasn't long before he approached the end of the spool It was with dismay that we abruptly learned that the kite string wasn't secured to the spool, as we had assumed it would be. We all stood, open-mouthed, as the string paid out completely and the biplane went sailing, tethered no more, out above the wide-open Atlantic. We watched until there wasn't even a speck left in the sky.

The rest of the day, nay, the rest of the week was surreal. On the normally bustling boardwalk, small knots of people were clustered motionless around television screens, staring in disbelief as the story unfolded. People were more subdued and polite to each other. Andy and strongly felt that we needed to be at the special Mass that was hastily scheduled that first day. Churches everywhere were packed. I would never have suspected before that day that so many people would flock to worship and pray together in the wake of such a tragedy.

I felt so guilty to be on vacation, to be able to enjoy such glorious weather. I felt vulnerable and unsafe. It felt wrong to laugh or smile or even talk. I kept glancing north up the coastline, as if I'd be able to see the smoke from 130 miles away. I didn't want to let the children out of my sight. I wept, watching each more shocking video that surfaced, showing the horrors faced and the desperation of some of the victims. I wept at each poster and flyer made for the missing persons, and prayed for the families who were waiting for news, begging God to let them be restored to each other. And I was, and still am, proud, so fiercely proud, of the bravery, the tenacity, the resourcefulness and the determination of all those people who were affected by the attacks or involved in the rescue and restoration efforts.

Twins in the Prayer Garden

2011-08-23T01:27:00.002-04:00

Regina

2011-08-23T01:25:00.002-04:00

Now where was I? Oh yes...

2011-08-22T22:39:00.003-04:00

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

Rare. Beautiful. Fleeting. Priceless.

2011-08-22T21:47:00.000-04:00

Pooped.

2011-08-18T18:04:00.005-04:00

This week was Fire Safety Day Camp, a free service that is a Godsend to homeschoolers like me, needing to fullfill the PA state regulation that I teach my kids fire safety. I mean, of course I teach my kids when and how to dial 911, why NOT to play with matches, and stop, drop and roll.

But Fire Safety Day Camp? What a tailor-made opportunity to rack up a few free school hours and beef up the portfolio!

Except, we're not morning people. These three days of camp are going to take a serious toll on us. This morning we were up at 7:30 (brutal), at camp by 9:00 (arduous), and had to pay attention for 3 hours (strenuous). And we have to do it three days in a row (unthinkable)! After camp, it was a stop to have lunch with Daddy; forays at 1, 2, 3, 4 stores; and a visit with Grandma.

Though there was lots of complaining from various factions throughout the day, Regina was a real trooper. Her only problem was that she never had a chance to take that solid nap she so strongly requires.

Finally, after 8 hours out and about, we landed safely back in our crib. (This is why we don't participate in many homeschool field trips. A two-hour day camp turned into a three-hour camp, which turned into an all-day affair). We headed straight for my room, which boasts both AC and television, and rested while we cooled off. Now we're waiting for Regina to wake up so we can hit the pool before it closes.

Hmmm.

We may be waiting a while.

Baby's first Robeez. We chose brown because she's on the verge of crawling, standing and walking. Hopefully the dirt and scuffs won't show so much.

2011-08-17T16:52:00.002-04:00

First-ever tractor pull. Oh yeah, baby.

Uh-Oh.

2011-08-12T23:29:00.002-04:00

Look at what SHE can do.

Regina at the playground

2011-08-10T21:33:00.002-04:00

REGINA - 8 months old

2011-07-27T20:44:00.001-04:00

Gotta love Texas!

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2011-07-10T23:29:00.004-04:00

Regina's first swim

Endless Nebraska Sky

2011-07-06T17:50:00.004-04:00

Endless Nebraska sky, featuring our RV overhang and 1400 miles of accumulated windshield casualties.

Oh, P.S. - Happy 21st Wedding Anniversary to us!

Westward Ho!

2011-07-06T00:59:00.003-04:00

At a whopping 7 mpg. Sheesh. :-/

You can just make out our oldest offspring, Sarah, peeking out through the driver door crack. She took the wheel for the first leg of the trip and drove ALL THE WAY TO NEBRASKA. WTG, Sarah! You're a champ.

Mom, Can I Try Out Your New Chair? Sure!

2011-07-03T12:22:00.000-04:00

Five Minutes Later...

Just can't stop taking pictures of this kid!

2011-07-02T23:33:00.001-04:00

Regina & D'Artagnan

2011-07-02T12:18:00.001-04:00

D'Artagnan regularly attacks the baby, but he must be holding back with the teeth and claws, because she thinks it's HILARIOUS.

There's Nothing Like A New Book

2011-07-01T12:16:00.002-04:00

Rockin' Out At The Church Picnic

2011-06-30T12:13:00.001-04:00

Tuesday At The Pool

2011-06-29T12:09:00.000-04:00

Before lunch

After lunch

They Assure Me It's Perfectly Safe

2011-06-28T12:01:00.002-04:00

Aikido Kai

2011-06-27T11:56:00.001-04:00

Martial arts skills AND killer hair. Lethal combo.

Everybody should wear a tutu now and then

2011-06-26T11:52:00.000-04:00

She's Digging This New High Chair Thing

2011-06-25T19:51:00.000-04:00

Drawing at Pap's House

2011-06-25T11:51:00.000-04:00

Pap keeps a well-stocked supply of dry erase markers at his house, and the kids spend part of every visit filling up the white boards.

Noelle, showing off some of her handiwork

Natalie would rather sort them according to hue

The finished product

I Wanna Soak Up The Sun

2011-06-24T13:04:00.002-04:00

Good Morning, Daddy!

2011-06-20T08:25:00.002-04:00

Daisy, upon catching first sight of Daddy this morning

Twins in the Pool

2011-06-17T15:39:00.004-04:00

Everybody Loves You

2011-06-16T13:31:00.002-04:00

"Everybody loves you, everybody loves you..." is what Natalie was singing as she tenderly surrounded Regina with stuffed toys, trying to keep her from crying while I sorted laundry.

Natalie

2011-06-16T09:26:00.004-04:00

Hawaiian Punch moustache, Big Top CupCake pan on her head. It's Natalie's turn in the spotlight.

Dad's Favorite Chicken

2011-06-15T20:17:00.003-04:00

Dad and Bunty

Good Night. Sleep Tight.

2011-06-15T00:55:00.002-04:00

Sweet Dreams.

Feel The Burn

2011-06-13T12:16:00.003-04:00

And reach. And reach. And hold it. Yeah! You're doing it!

Regina & D'Artagnan

2011-06-09T21:53:00.004-04:00

We're getting ready for another Texas road trip, so we took the RV for a test drive today for a shakedown. To kill a few birds at the same time, we also went to visit Grandma, and took our new kitty with us so they could meet.

Regina loves to drive in the car, and she loves the kitty. He wasn't so crazy about the ride, and he handled her "love" patiently. She pulled at his fur, his lips, his ears, and even once grabbed his little paw and began chewing on it. Eww. But he didn't cry once, and didn't try to get away.

He did realize, however, that if he curled up around her feet, then he was relatively safe. He stayed there for the rest of the trip - a warm, fuzzy footrest.

My kitty. Mine. Gimme, gimme kitty.

Ahhh.

Bad Swimming Girl

2011-06-09T21:50:00.002-04:00

Noelle likes to dress up in her swim gear and run around the house, telling us she's "Bad Swimming Girl." We haven't yet discerned whether she's a bad girl who swims, or a girl who swims badly. Either way, Bad Swimming Girl was unleashed on an unsuspecting public this week.

By the way, that's a new flotation device we got at Dick's Sporting Goods, and it works great. It doesn't tip over at all, and I don't have to worry about it slipping off like swim rings or arm rings.

Regina-Cakes is 6 months old today!

2011-06-07T13:00:00.000-04:00

In the past week, she:

discovered her toes

began sitting up

started babbling bla-bla and da-da

improved her accuracy with those grabby little hands of hers

became intensely interested in watching the new kitten

(who, incidentally, keeps attacking my dancing fingers on the keyboard as I type)

Mittens Has A Little Brother

2011-06-05T23:38:00.014-04:00

Last week, my oldest son Scott came home with that look in his eye that means, "I know you're not going to like what I did, but I did it anyway." That look, and a five-week-old kitten he called Daisy. I guess my husband and I are too tired to fight anymore, because not only did Daisy seamlessly -nay, enthusiastically - integrate into the family, I also got her an appointment at the vet two days hence to quickly curtail the flea-scratching.

The vet appointment quickly confirmed what I had suspected: my son is terrible at determining the sex of a kitten. "Daisy" is really "D'Artagnan." And he really is the cutest thing imaginable. We are particularly enamored of his habit of playing for 30 minutes with a bedskirt or the bristles on a broom. It's so hard to resist his playfulness.

Unless you're Mittens.

All she does is growl and hiss and hog the food and water dishes when he's around. But that only deters him for a half-second. He wants to be around her so badly. He mews when he sees her, creeps as close as he can before she hisses, and stalks her irritably-twitching tail.

Tonight, he was already on my bed when she came in for the night. Imagine the nasty surprise she got when she jumped up and found him IN HER SPOT. She wanted to leave in a huff, but I convinced her to stay, and in a few minutes he had crept as close as he dared.

Mittens was not amused.


"La-la-la-la I can't hear you, I'm ignoring you, you're not really here!"

An hour later, they were still sleeping a few inches from each other. He even crept up close enough to be able to touch her with his front paws.

"I'm still ignoring you."

I suspect it's mostly an act on her part, and once she makes her point and proves her dominance, they'll be snuggling and grooming each other. It's so much fun to watch her defenses crumble!

Greased Lightning

2011-06-04T23:16:00.003-04:00

Theresa - you can't see the vapor trails behind her too well in this photo. Man, was that kid moving!

Noelle

2011-06-04T20:40:00.003-04:00

Noelle

In case you're wondering what's up with all the uploaded, uncaptioned pictures, there's a simple explanation. I can't transfer my full-size cell phone pictures directly to my computer. The only way I can get them on to my computer is to send them to blogger from the phone, enlarge them, right-click and save to my computer.

Sweetness and Light

2011-06-04T01:01:00.001-04:00

Or should I say Pain and Panic? Divide and Conquer? Search and Destroy?

I Bet You Missed Hearing About The Chickens

2011-06-03T12:34:00.001-04:00

When it gets hot out, they laze around like beauty queens with their wing feathers spread wide.

Today Conor found an egg that is literally no bigger than a peanut M&M.

Clare, Brian & Theresa. This is most likely the hen that laid the M&M. This is Scrappy, formerly known as the feral or wild chicken, or the African Game Fowl. She's getting pretty old; those unusual eggs most often come from immature or older hens. Nobody else has been able to catch her since we found her in 2009, but Theresa (r) can catch her almost at will.

And finally, check out the huge, hairy spider we saw on the ceiling of the coop. I had no idea they existed so big around here. :-(

2011-06-03T01:40:00.003-04:00

Andy, you have to see this!

2011-06-02T21:59:00.000-04:00

Why doesn't Regina laugh like this?

More Regina-Cakes

2011-06-02T01:04:00.001-04:00

We Have Created A Monster

2011-06-01T20:18:00.028-04:00

Okay, so you saw Regina's introduction to ice cream the other day. I don't get it - she never had ice cream before. How is it that she reacted so enthusiastically when she saw me eating my Peanut Buster Parfait??? How could she have known that it wasn't sweet potatoes or cereal?

So yesterday was Brian's birthday, and it's so hot and humid that turning on the oven and eating a heavy cake wasn't an option. So I made a light and fluffy and cool dessert, called Eclair Cake, which involves pudding, whipped topping, and a jar of hot fudge sauce. And we took a slice up to visit with Brian's grandmother, who couldn't attend the party.

She sampled the dessert, but since she isn't much of a pudding person, she sent most of it back home with us. Regina was strapped in her car seat for the entire visit, having been asleep when we arrived. When she started to cry, it was time for us to leave. I placed the plastic tub of dessert on her lap and carried her out, car seat against my hip like a laundry basket.

She didn't make a peep once I started moving, and I assumed that she was falling asleep again. When we got to the parking lot and it was time to buckle her seat in, this is what I found.

Miss Manual Dexterity 2011

Brian's 15th Birthday

2011-05-31T11:59:00.005-04:00

Brian and his ukelele. BFFs.

Eclair Cake. Light, fluffy pudding goodness. More about this tomorrow.

Lots of helpers to blow out the candles, but he's a good sport about it.

Sweet Potatoes Come Back Out.

2011-05-30T23:42:00.001-04:00

Ice cream doesn't.

1. That looks AMAZING. I must have some!
2. Nom nom nom.
3. Bring on the next bite!

Aikido Kai

2011-05-29T00:16:00.002-04:00

For the past six months, the kids have been attending a martial arts self-defense class called aikido. So far it's all been about being able to get your attacker off balance, and how to fall safely. The sensei is an incredibly limber man in his 60s who falls down (and gets back up) about a hundred times in each class. If I fell down even once, it would be all over for me.

Anyway, one snowy Saturday morning, my kids were the only ones to make it to class. I had intended for the twins to sit on the sidelines with me, but Sensei invited them onto the mats. They did okay, though a little bit rambunctious. I was surprised when, the next week, he asked why they weren't at class. I thought they were too young, but as long as he didn't think they were a disruption, I was willing to try.

They have gone to class for the past two weeks. Natalie surprised me; I expected her to be either bored or too timid, but she participated and paid attention the whole time. Noelle, not so much. If she makes it for half the class, it's a good day.

I love how Natalie's peeking at the camera here.

We had a parade in our town recently, and the aikido dojo marched along in it. That's Brian in the purple, and Theresa's the blondie holding the sign. Clare is behind her.

Clare & Conor

Boats & Birds - Gregory and the Hawk

2011-05-25T14:42:00.004-04:00

I don't know what this song is really written about, but I can't think of a more fitting (and touching) song for the mother-child relationship. I can't hear this song without tearing up.

If you'll be my star
I'll be your sky
You can hide underneath me and come out at night
When I turn jet black and you show off your light
I live to let you shine
I live to let you shine

And you can sky-rocket away from me
And never come back if you find another galaxy
Far from here with more room to fly
Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

If you be my boat
I'll be your sea
The depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity
Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze
I live to make you free
I live to make you free

But you can set sail to the west if you want to
And past the horizon till I can't even see you
Far from here where the beaches are wide
Just leave me your wake to remember you by

The Legacy Lives On

2011-05-24T23:21:00.006-04:00

Almost five years ago, some generous and loving friends and relatives gathered together to shower us with baby gifts as we awaited the birth of our twins, even though these were babies #7 and #8. We received some extra baby equipment, many adorable matching outfits, enough diapers in various sizes to last us an entire year (no exaggeration), and some generous monetary gifts.

During the last trimester, I was overcome by fatigue while browsing in a department store with the kids. I felt like I just couldn't walk another step, and Clare and Theresa, who were 3 and 5, were getting restless. So I headed to a niche in the store where they keep their clearance furniture. It is a room lined with wall-to-wall couches and chairs, and it's fairly private. I knew I could rest there a spell in relative privacy while the kids safely romped off some of their energy.

As we entered the room, there it was - sitting across the room, directly in front of me, as if it had known I was coming. As if it had been waiting for me. A double-wide oak glider rocker. Feeling as bulky as a sumo wrestler at the time, I was immediately drawn to it. This chair just spoke to me. It was large enough to fit me, my twin belly, and a child on each side. I could see myself reading to the girls. I pictured myself rocking (and nursing) both twins at once. It was a handsome chair; my husband would be proud to rock his babies in it.

There was no other choice to make. I would use our baby shower money to invest in this piece of furniture, which would surely pay off in dividends of memories and love.

I was not mistaken; the chair is still a favorite. It started out in our bedroom, did a stint in the living room (until the kids leaned on the arms too much and loosened the spindles), then reclaimed its place in our bedroom. It creaks more than it used to, and has been fortified with Mighty Putty more than once, thanks to the way the kids use it as a recliner instead of a rocker. I'm pleased to say that it isn't even covered in laundry too often. I nurse the baby in it almost every day, several of us sit there to read, and it is ready for us to sit in it at almost any moment.

Unless Mittens the Kitten is around.

My chair. Go away.

Wheels, and Lousy Luck.

2011-05-24T22:25:00.004-04:00

Last month we found the perfect car for Scott. He now has a full-time job, the Malibu was getting poor gas mileage, and I can't possibly shuttle him there and back every day. We looked around for a while until we found a kelly green metallic Subaru, the ideal car for him. Good gas mileage, but funky and somewhat unique. We picked it up on a Saturday evening, and he was thrilled.

Until Sunday evening, that is, when he crossed paths with another teen driver coming the opposite way. I can't really picture how it happened. I imagine it was something like this: La-di-da, here I am traveling west. Oh, there's the traffic light. I have to turn left here. Oh, hey, there's another car coming east through the traffic light. He's already in the intersection. Oh, what the heck, I can make it. I'M GOING FOR IT. NOBODY LIVES FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

While Scott was exercising his legal right of way, proceeding through the green light, the kid tried to make his turn and, as my husband put it, "T-boned" Scott. Smashed right into the driver's side.

Scott's car was totaled, after only 28 hours of ownership. Thankfully nobody was hurt., but Scott really does have the worst luck, if you will.

Below is the replacement.

96 hours and counting.

Speaking of replacements, here's how we replaced the van.

It seats 9, which still leaves us two short. The oldest two rarely travel with us anymore, though. It's a much nicer vehicle, but I still miss my shoddy old van, which seated twelve plus plenty of room for our stuff. We gained a bit of luxury (and doubled our gas mileage), but lost all that cargo space and extra seating. However, we do have heating and ac in the rear seats now. That part will be nice. But still, I miss my van.

Regina @ 5 months

2011-05-24T02:42:00.003-04:00

dReSsInG uP

2011-05-22T22:23:00.004-04:00

Baby Love

2011-05-21T22:20:00.002-04:00

Regina, 5 months old, with Noelle and Clare.

The Proverbs 17 Family

2011-05-16T01:30:00.003-04:00

Perhaps I should offer an explanation to my Proverbs 17 header up there, lest anyone think we're some kind of dire, dour, doom-and-gloom Bible thumping family. I mean, I may be an aspiring Bible-thumper, but not a dire, dour, doom-and-gloom sort of one.

Many years ago, my husband received the good advice that if you don't know where to start reading the Bible, open it to the book of Proverbs and choose the chapter corresponding to today's date. There are only 31 chapters of Proverbs, so it works out perfectly.

Because I want to make reading Scripture a more prominent part of our family life, naturally I gravitated to the daily Proverbs when I was looking for a place to start with the boys. We didn't get to it every day (still don't), but it was always an extra-special treat when we happened to hit upon a day that included the word "numbskull." (That's in the Bible? REALLY??)

On the 17th of a month not long ago, somehow it seemed that everything we read was speaking directly to us and our specific weaknesses, as individuals and as a family Verse after verse made us hang our heads, chastened, again and again. So I made Powerpoint slides of the pertinent verses, converted them to .jpgs, and made a Picasa collage out of them.

>> Better a crust of dry bread, than a house full of feasting with strife. (Some dinnertimes at our table are truly miserable affairs. I still haven't resorted to feeding them dry bread crusts. Not yet anyway.)

>> Starting a quarrel is like breaching a dam, so drop the matter before a dispute breaks out. (The quantity of bickering and quarrels around here is off the charts)

>> He who loves a quarrel loves sin. (Ditto)

>> He who covers over an offense promotes love, (oh, just overlook someone else's fault once in a while, won'tcha?)

>> but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends. (and don't keep bringing it up!)

>> Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent (you know who you are)

>> To have a fool for a son brings grief, and the father of a numbskull has no joy. (Uses the word 'numbskull.' Duh.)

I'd like to say that we've managed to eliminate those particular faults by now, but I don't want to break the sixth commandment.

Magic Words

2011-05-02T17:22:00.009-04:00

No, I'm not talking 'please' or 'thank you.'

I don't even mean 'I'm sorry' or "I love you.'

The magic words my husband recently discovered are, "Can you tell me how much of my donation is used for administrative costs, and how much reaches the intended recipients?"

You've all been there: the phone rings at dinnertime, and on the other end is someone who mispronounces your name, asks how your evening is going, and then proceeds to ask for money for the March of Dimes, the statewide Sheriff's Association, the Make-A-Wish Foundation, the Disabled Veterans, the American Cancer Society, etc.

They go into their spiel, and you squirm on your end while they systematically shoot down every one of your questions and objections. This weekend, however, my husband asked the magic question to two separate tele-fundraisers, and each time he got an identical response - they gave him the 800-number for the charity itself, and told him he could get the information from them. Nothing else. No more badgering or wheedling or cajoling. They didn't even ask if they could send out a pledge card for us to consider. Just an 800-number and a hasty hang-up.

Try it next time. "Can you tell me how much of my donation is used for administrative costs, and how much reaches the intended recipients?"

Please don't misunderstand me - many of these are doing vitally important, life-saving work. Your favorite charity is also a deeply personal issue - I remember tearfully volunteering and donating to the American Heart Association right after a family member had quadruple-bypass surgery.

Putting emotion aside, however, I urge everyone to choose a charity that gives the most bang-for-your-buck, getting the most aid to its intended recipients while keeping administrative costs to a minimum, including a relatively low salary for its CEO.

Two websites I have recently discovered are Charity Navigator Rating and the Better Business Bureau's Charity Reviews.

There I learned the shocking truth that since Congress passed the Do-Not-Call legislation, most telemarketing firms lost their for-profit clients, so they had to turn to nonprofit organizations for business. Many of those fundraising phone calls are made by a paid third-party agency who keeps anywhere from 25 to 95 cents of every dollar they collect. (reference here, see #2)

I'll use the American Cancer Society as a random example, only because they were the last charity to call me, and they did use a paid caller. This means that by pledging 20 dollars to the American Cancer Society over the phone, you run the risk that up to 18 of those dollars will be kept by the telemarketing firm who called you. Make sure you ask every charity phone solicitor if they are volunteering for the agency itself, or if they are paid callers. Ask them how much money will actually end up with the charity. By law, they have to tell you.

At those aforementioned websites, you can find out that the American Cancer Society has a 1 out of 4 star rating for efficency, and that only 72% of your donation is actually for their program costs, and their CEO's salary is over a million dollars a year. That means that of those 2 dollars that might actually make it to the American Cancer Society, a whopping $1.44 will actually be used for the American Cancer Society's research and programs. Makes you feel really good about your donation, doesn't it?

Let's look at another charity. Food for the Poor rates 4 out of 4 stars, and uses 97% of their donations to bring relief to the poorest of the poor, especially in Haiti. Their CEO earns around $425,000 a year.

The Disabled Veterans Associations of Parma, Oh, uses an appalling 4.6% of the funds raised to actually help disabled vets; 94.6% goes to fundraising costs. The last reported salary for their CEO was $89,746. They have a rating of zero stars.

In contrast, the Disabled American Veterans Charitable Services Trust has a four-star, 92.3% efficiency rating, and their chairman gets $3,980 a year in compensation. Wow. What a difference.

And the Disabled American Veterans? This is what the Charity Navigator has to say: "We don't evaluate Disabled American Veterans. Why not? We evaluate charitable organizations as defined by section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code. DAV is a 501(c)(4) organization, and as such, its activities are not limited exclusively to charitable pursuits.

The Woman2Woman Breast Cancer Foundation, who recently solicited us for a donation, doesn't have a rating because it hasn't disclosed any information to the Better Business Bureau, despite repeated attempts by the BBB to compile the information. What does THAT say to you?

I also just learned that the American Heart Association rates 2 stars, pays its Executive Director 450K a year and only uses 74.3% of donations for its stated purposes. Oh, and its former Exec Director pulled in 1.1 million annually. Sweet.

I guess the bottom line is that charitable giving can be a veritable minefield to navigate. Be informed. Please know where your money is going before you send that check or give out your credit card number. Even better, refuse to donate over the phone (see #5), look up the charity for yourself, and donate to them directly to ensure that they receive every penny.

Please read Top 10 Best Practices of Savvy Donors before you make another donation, and read What To Do When A Charity Calls before the phone rings again.

And remember, charity is another word for love.

Pro-Life Message

2011-04-28T06:28:00.003-04:00

I saw this on facebook and am reposting it here for my non-fb friends.

A worried woman went to her gynecologist and said: 'Doctor, I have a serious problem and desperately need your help! My baby is not even 1 year old and I'm pregnant again. I don't want kids so close together.

The doctor said: 'Ok, what do you want me to do?'

She said: 'I want you to end my pregnancy, and I'm counting on your help with this.'

The doctor thought for a little, and after some silence he said to the lady: 'I think I have a better solution for your problem. It's less dangerous for you too.'

She smiled, thinking that the doctor was going to accept her request.

Then he continued: 'You see, in order for you not to have to take care of 2 babies at the same time, let's kill the one in your arms. This way, you could rest some before the other one is born. If we're going to kill one of them, it doesn't matter which one it is. There would be no risk for your body if you chose the one in your arms.

The lady was horrified and said: 'No, doctor! How terrible! It's a crime to kill a child!

'I agree', the doctor replied. 'But you seemed to be OK with it, so I thought maybe that was the best solution.'

The doctor smiled, realizing that he had made his point.

He convinced the mom that there is no difference in killing a child that's already been born and one that's still in the womb.

The crime is the same!

(Actual photo of the feet of a preborn baby at 10 weeks gestation)

If you agree, please SHARE. Together we can help save precious lives!

"Love says I sacrifice myself for the good of the other person. Abortion says I sacrifice the other person for the good of myself..."

Jesus sacrificed Himself for the good of sinners! That's perfect love!

Regina @ 4 months ...

2011-04-12T12:53:00.006-04:00

...trying her level best to get both fists in her mouth at the same time

...totally in love with her new favorite toy.
I TRIED and TRIED to configure this video so it would play vertically instead of horizontally,
but every time I uploaded the edited version, it reverted to the original.

But you get the idea. She loved it.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

In the Words of C. S. Lewis

2011-04-12T11:16:00.001-04:00

C.S. Lewis once said:

"God's work in our lives can be painful, but His ultimate goal is to transform us into something better. "

"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what he is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised."

"But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is he up to? The explanation is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of--throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards."

"You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but he is building up a palace. He intends to come and live in it himself."

a dream

2011-04-11T07:56:00.000-04:00

I found this on another blog, but it really hit me where it hurts.

In my dream I saw an absolutely beautiful wrapped present. (My favorite kind of present to get...I totally appreciate a good gift wrap!) However, as I looked at that present, complete with a perfectly tied wire ribbon, the following thoughts flooded my mind:

My home was like that beautifully wrapped present....lovely to look at and wonderful to make the box pleasing. HOWEVER, it became very clear to me that I needed to remember that the thing that made the present of value wasn't the nice ribbon or the expensive paper, or even the box. The treasure was the actual GIFT housed within the box. The contents of the box was what mattered! The bow would be untied and the paper eventually cast aside....but the CONTENTS of the box...MY FAMILY....was what mattered!

Two Inspirational Poems

2011-04-06T01:38:00.003-04:00

Splinters From The Cross

Little headaches, little heartaches,
Little griefs of every day,
Little trials and vexations,
How they throng around our way!

One great cross, immense and heavy,
So it seems to our weak will,
Might be born with resignation,
But these many small ones kill.

Yet all life is formed of small things,
Little leaves make up the trees,
Many tiny drops of water
Blending, make the mighty seas.

Let us not then by impatience
Mar the beauty of the whole,
But the love of Jesus bear all
In the silence of our soul.

Asking Him for grace sufficient
To sustain us through each loss,
And to treasure each small offering
As a splinter from His Cross.

The Tapestry

My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily.
Oftimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.

Not till the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful Weaver's hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

Favorite Subjects.

2011-04-04T16:42:00.008-04:00

I bet you thought I was going to write about the twins. They are usually my favorite subjects. Or Regina. No, I'm talking about my favorite subject in school. Homeschool, that is.

Math.

I don't remember it being my favorite subject when I was going through school, although I did get decent grades and managed to make it all the way through a statistics course in college. But somewhere along the last 12 years, it has become my favorite subject. I love teaching it to the younger kids, and I love re-learning it with the older kids.

Brian recently went through a few chapters in Algebra with the slope-intercept formula. That was all new to me. I must have daydreamed or dozed through it in Geometry class as a sophomore, but after a few tries I had it down even better than he did.

Now we are working with equations, and it's sort of pathetic how much I am enjoying myself. *There are 39 coins made up of pennies and dimes. The total value is $1.83. Write two equations, one for the number of coins, and one for the value. *Find three consecutive integers such that five times the first integer plus twice the second is equal to six times the third.

He worked in his book, I worked on the pink sheet. I won.

I love teaching/learning Latin, and grammar.

I love sharing my knowledge of Spanish with the kids, although we're doing Latin as our foreign language instead.

I love sharing classical music, poetry and art, and teaching them to draw.

Teaching them to read can be tedious, but I love the moment of discovery when they find they can actually READ.

I love learning history, though slogging through textbooks can be a drag.

I hate teaching spelling. Too tedious for me. I was one of those natural spellers, and I can't relate well to someone to whom it doesn't come as easily.

I love science, especially the higher sciences.

I love teaching the kids how to write in cursive. I'm neutral on teaching them how to print. I hate teaching them how to write compositions. This is probably because I'm so opinionated that if they're not writing the way I would do it, I sort of automatically think it's wrong.

I hate craft projects.

I love teaching them to touch-type.

I love showing them their way around a kitchen.

In general, I just love those "light-bulb" moments when I have found just the right way to explain something to them so that it makes perfect sense. I love when their enthusiasm for a subject finally measures up to my own.

Sometimes - quite often, actually - I get so discouraged with homeschooling that I just want to give up. Making this list has been therapeutic in that regard, reinforcing some of my reasons for wanting to homeschool in the first place.

Stations of the Cross, Closing

2011-04-04T06:41:00.001-04:00

The Resurrection of Jesus
We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You
because by your holy Cross You have redeemed the world.

When the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices that they might go and anoint Jesus. Very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had just risen, they came to the tomb. They were saying to one another, "Who will roll the stone back from the entrance of the tomb for us?" for it was very large. But looking up they saw that the stone had been rolled back, and upon entering the tomb they were amazed to see a young man sitting at the right side and clothed in a white robe. He said to them, "Do not be terrified. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen, he is not here. Behold the place where they laid him." (Mk. 16, 1 to 6)

Let us pray: I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into hell; the third day he arose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God, the Father almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.

Stations of the Cross, Fourteenth Station

2011-04-03T15:43:00.001-04:00

Fourteenth Station

Jesus is laid in the tomb

We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you,
because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world

Joseph of Arimathea took the body of Jesus, and wrapping it in a clean linen cloth he laid it in his new tomb, which he had hewn out of rock. Then he rolled a large stone agains the entrance of the tomb and departed. (Mt. 27, 59 and 60)

Reflection: I will praise you, O Lord, for you drew me clear and did not let my enemies rejoice over me. O Lord, my God, I cried out to you and you healed me. O lord, you brought me up from the lower world; you preserved me from among those going down into the pit. Sing praise to the Lord, you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger lasts but a moment; his good will is for a lifetime. At nightfall, weeping enters in, but with dawn comes rejoicing. (Ps. 29, 2 to 6)

Let us pray: Almighty and eternal God, on the edge of sadness when all seemed lost, You restored to us teh Saviour we thought defeated and conquered. Help us, we beg You, so to empty ourselves of self concern that we might see your hand in every failure and your victory in every defeat. These things we ask in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns forever with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Click on the picture for a link to an excellently-done corresponding page on the Catholic Stations of the Cross.

Chocolate Milk

2011-04-02T18:08:00.008-04:00

Clare was an arrestingly beautiful child who had a personality to match. She loved everybody, and everybody loved her. Except her big sister, but we won't get into that now.

It's hard to look at that angelic face and imagine that she could be anything other than perfect.

But I just have to share this little story for my blog-friend Nicolle.

In 2004, my oldest son was chosen for a little-league All-Star baseball team. What this really translates to = several EXTRA weeks added onto the end of a long, hot, slow baseball season. One Saturday in September, we drove about an hour to where the games were being held, and I dropped my son off to warm up with his team. We had to wait for a game or two (and who knows how long they can last), so I took the kids to a small pizza joint for lunch to kill some time.

That day I had with me Brian (8), Conor (6), Clare(3) & Theresa (11 months). Keeping them happy, occupied and quiet for who knows how long was a real chore. We ordered our pizza, and then I bought the kids chocolate milk and chips to snack on until the pie was ready.

The pizza joint was really rather small, and there was an older gentleman there, eating alone. He had to be in his late sixties at the youngest. I don't know if he was just a grumpy old man in general, or if he was gruff because my kids were misbehaving, or if he just wanted to eat alone at his local pizza place in peace. . I was trying my best to keep them contained and quiet, but hey, they were four little kids being held hostage by a baseball game. Heck, I wanted to misbehave, too.

Now go look at Clare's sweet face again. Then picture her slipping away from our booth for a moment - just a moment, mind you, while my guard was down - easing over to the old man's booth, and beaming at him with that angelic smile, just before deliberately spraying a mouthful of chocolate milk right onto his table, the floor, and down the front of her dress.

"Getouttahere!" he snarled at her, gruffly. I remember apologizing to him, wiping off his table and wiping up the floor, and wishing I could just disappear. I'm certain I was trying not to cry, but probably not succeeding very well. That's all I remember, though.

I still count it among one of my worst Mommy moments.

So Nicolle, please don't cry over spilled milk unless Boyd spits it at somebody.

Fairy Tale

2011-04-02T17:17:00.006-04:00

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who was the Best Baby Ever

who took six hour naps

and had magical, bubbling spit.

The end.

Crunch. Ouch.

2011-04-02T15:31:00.005-04:00

Tree, meet Van.

Van, meet Tree.

Stations of the Cross, Thirteenth Station

2011-04-02T05:12:00.002-04:00

Thirteenth Station

The body of Jesus is taken down from the Cross

We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you,
because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world

When the soldiers came to Jesus, they saw that he was already dead so that they did not break his legs, but one of them opened his side with a lance, and immediately there came out blood and water. Joseph of Arimathea, because he was a disciple of Jesus (although a secret one for fear of the Jews), besought Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus. And Pilate gave permission. (Jn. 19, 33 to 34, 38a)

Reflection: O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them, and I will bring you back to your land. Then you shall know that I am the Lord. O my people! I will put my psirit in you that you may live. You shall know then that I am the Lord. I have promised it, and I will do it, says the Lord. (Ezechiel 37, 12 to 14)

Let us pray: Beloved Saviour, You returned to the Father all that He had given You, so that He might restore all to You a hundred-fold in the glorious resurrection. Help us, we beg You, to give generously of ourselves in all that we do for You, so that like You we might be made perfect in a new resurrection.

Click on the picture for a link to an excellently-done corresponding page on the Catholic Stations of the Cross.

Stations of the Cross, Twelfth Station

2011-04-01T04:49:00.002-04:00

The Twelfth Station

Jesus dies on the Cross

We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you,
because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world

It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the curtain of the temple was torn in the middle. Jesus cried out with a loud voice and said, "It is finished. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Then, bowing his head, he died. (Lk. 23, 44 to 46; Jn. 19, 30b)

Reflection: My people, what have I done to you? or in what have I offended you? Answer me. What more should I have done, and did not do? I led you out of the land of Egypt, and you prepared a cross for me. I opened the Red Sea before you, and you opened my side with a lance. I gave you a royal sceptre, and you have given me a crown of thorns. With great power I lifted you up, and you have hung me upon a cross. My people, what have I done to you, or in what have I offended you? Answer me. (From The Reproaches of Good Friday)

Let us pray: Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

Click on the picture for a link to an excellently-done corresponding page on the Catholic Stations of the Cross.