an ode to mister rogers

I love Mr. Rogers.... I loved him as a kid (much to my parent's chagrin, as a 5 year old, I wistfully told my mom "I wish Mr. Rogers was my dad". To which my mother replied "If Mr. Rogers was your dad, I wouldn't be your mom.") and I still love watching him alongside my kids.
He was the only person who took 30 minutes out of his day to do silly stuff with me, to encourage my imagination, and most importantly to tell me that he liked me "just the way I am". He didn't even know me. He never knew how far-reaching those words would go.
Or maybe he did.
I love the way he put himself in the way of being "humble". He didn't mind doing something that most people would not do: something humiliating like wearing a newspaper hat, or asking a question on a "field trip" that a kid might ask.
As a parent, I appreciate the simplicity of his show. There is no jarring of one's nerves. No flashing words or bright lights or politically correct message beating you about the head and shoulders. There is just a calm, caring man and a couple of his friends from the neighborhood.
I have been made fun of all of my life for my love and respect for Fred Rogers. I don't mind one bit. He was a Presbyterian minister (I stand corrected, as I had thought he was a Methodist minister), and if God is at all as loving and caring and calm and loves me just the way I am the way Mr. Rogers did, well, then I am glad to be a part of His neighborhood too.

and furthermore

My sister and I were talking about it, and she thinks (I second the motion) that the Pope needs to condemn the whole thing as Heresy.
Whether the Earth is getting a degree warmer is a non-issue. The hype surrounding "Global Warming" is in direct oppostion to everything that we are told in the Bible.
After creating, God said "It is good."
He did NOT say, "Muah, ha, ha, ha and now I will sit back and watch these stupid creatures destroy themselves."
He tells us many times in scripture not to worry.
So, hey, I have other things to do.... I'm doing what "the Man" said... I ain't worryin'.

on global warming

There is a substitute teacher (fresh faced college graduate) at my children's school who, it seems, every time she fills in for a teacher, feels the need to passionately spout her opinions on the horrors of Global Warming.
Now, anyone who knows me can tell you that I am, if nothing else, opinionated (hence the blog, I suppose). I will let something like this slide the first time, but when it becomes a repeated pattern, I just have to insert my two cents worth. Here is the letter I wrote to our principal. (with names changed to protect the ...er... innocent) :

Hey Mr. Super-Duper Principal!
(I know you must cringe when you see my name in your inbox.)
I just wanted to bring this to your attention.

Last year at the end of the year, Number 1 came home and said that Mrs. Math's daughter subbed for one of her classes. Miss Chicken Little apparently took a lot of the classroom time and passionately spoke about the horrors of Global Warming. Frankly, I figured "it's the end of the school year, she will probably get a job somewhere and I won't have to deal with it again."
We are trying to raise our children to have level heads and to think rationally and logically - not falling into falling for "the sky is falling" mentality. In fact, this is exactly the kind of thing I think about when, during Mass, the Priest asks the Lord to "protect us from anxiety as we wait in joyful hope".

So, fast forward to yesterday. Miss Chicken Little was filling in for Mrs. Language and brought the subject up again. If it were a "thoughtful conversation on both sides" that the class was having.... maybe even the subject for a debate... I wouldn't be so concerned. But, I am afraid if this doesn't get nipped in the bud, the next attempt to indoctrinate will involve Hillary Clinton and the push toward Socialism.

If you could climb into their collective brains, here is what you'd see written on the insides of their skulls:
"We don't want the earth to EVER change. It has to stay just like this without any sort of deviation. We want to save every animal and every plant from extinction. There is to be no killing for fur. Or leather. No tree can be "murdered". (It's ok to kill an unborn baby, though, because let's face it, people are the enemy. If one baby must die to save a tree, so be it.) Now, go out and buy your politically correct cars and equally as "PC" light bulbs and go hug a tree!"

God, save us!

car troubles

Hey, Mom, I think something is going on with the engine block in my car.

oh, and I got a facial, too

This weekend I went with my Mom and sister to Westglow Spa in Blowing Rock, NC. We stayed for two nights. We've had this planned for about a month or so now. I had forced myself NOT to think about it, for fear that I would be a "good for nothing daydreamer" until the day got here.
Well, the day finally did get here. I did so well with not thinking or planning for it that I was scrambling around at the last minute packing stuff.
King has been telling me for over 3 years now that I should get away for the weekend to get a break from these four walls. In typical MOM fashion (aka Martyr syndrome) I just pooh-poohed the idea until now. But we had a fantastic reason for celebrating: my Mom turning 65, my turning 40, and my sister turning 35 this year. (You can see another need for celebration in 5 years, right?)
With our two night stay, each of us got three "treatments". We had to choose from body massages and facials with fancy names and salon services out the wazoo. It was going to be one very relaxing weekend.
Sadly, as a mom of 5 I don't take the time out to laugh as much as I should. The closer I got to the weekend, the more I looked forward to not necessarily the "services", but the laughter.
Well, we laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
Then we took a break and laughed some more. At one point (dinner at the really fancy "Rowlands") I actually spewed my lemon-infused water all over the place. It was one of those times where you actually get a head rush & headache from being without oxygen for too long while you are gaffawing. We laughed about everything. Everyone. Ourselves. And then did it all over again. I daresay we had more laughter-filled fun than anyone in the state of North Carolina that day. When I got back into town last evening, I saw a friend of mine who commented on how great I looked. I doubt it was any of the "treatments". I am betting it was all that laughing that made me look and feel so great. Even though after the kids got used to me being home again, I was met with one mini-crisis after another, I am still on a high from all that laughter.

Yep, I can highly recommend the Westglow Spa.
The location is breath-taking, the services are relaxing, the food is beyond incredible, and the laughter.... mmm.... it's absolutely intoxicating.

so, here's the plan....

Y'know how you pull up to a red light and some "whipper snapper" has their music up so loud (usually rap music) that even they have to escape it by rolling down their windows. Their side mirrors are shaking with the beat, the bass turned on all the way. Well, my plan is to get a cd with a bunch of kid show theme songs on it and retaliate by playing something like the theme from Bob the Builder at such high decibles that even my rap music counterpart has to stop and listen.

Just imagine... "Backpack, Backpack!" playing so loud that it makes whipper-snapper's sinuses hurt!

ok, enough poking for one day

I've been poked with enough needles for a whole year, much less one day. Counting it all up, it is 6 times.
This morning, I had a small surgery on my scalp. A type of cyst removed. The "old timers" would call it a wen. But now I am wen-free. (Just don't call me Oprah, as hubby was wanting to do.) Four times the dermotologist poked me with his novocane-filled syringe
The next needle experience was late this afternoon. I was altering a formal dress for a party that # 1 is invited to. Whirr, whirr, whirr on the machine and then BOOM, sewed right through my finger, which would have been bad enough, but then I instinctively pulled away.
Yeeeeee owwwww!
King insisted I go to the ER (which makes this altered dress from Goodwill over $100 rather than under $5!!!) where they took x-rays (couldn't find the end of the needle at home) and decided the only treatment I needed was a tetanus shot. Chalk up the sixth run-in with the painful end of a needle.
Sigh.
I'm going to bed before something else happens. I'll probably dream about needles. Good thing it's not Halloween night and I don't have an apple in my hand, huh? (or is that razor blades?)

so this is what "strung out" feels like

OK, after several days of making good use of my espresso maker, pushing myself to the limits, and a couple of really lousy (and very short) nights of sleep I have hit a brick wall. My mind is still wanting to go and do and be productive, but my body is slamming on the brakes to that plan.
I am thankful that the kids have a day off from school tomorrow. Not that it will be less work, really. Maybe it's just that there will be someone around to hear me complain!
And if I play my cards just right, I may even get a nap in! Muah ha ha ha.

what's for breakfast

Number 4 is cracking me up with all the additions to his vocabulary. This one in particular got me tickled:
oatmeal = oat-no

salv-ation

Salve- definition one: A greeting, "hail".

As in Hail, holy Queen. Today is the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Number 1 and I went to a Living Rosary tonight. It's something I had looked forward to since last year, and it was simply beautiful. It's held on the field of our local Catholic high school football stadium. Everyone gets there just before dusk. Right after the sun sets, we begin praying the Rosary. Volunteers from around the area Catholic churches stand in the place of the "beads" of the Rosary. The field slowly gets filled in the shape of a strand of Rosary beads. Each person holds a candle so their "beadness" can show up. There is a huge wooden cross erected in one end zone and the people loop all the way to the other end zone and back. Simply beautiful.

Salve- definition two: A soothing remedy which heals.

The wonderful way that taking a break from household chores and sharing with hubby what a really good cup of cappuccino tastes like. Reconnecting after a particularly crazy week and before we start an even crazier week, the time we spent together healed us from the bumps and bruises we acquired. Slowing down. Reminding each other why we are here in the first place. Not racing to see who finishes first. Not squabbling about who has less and who has more. Or who is right and who is wrong. None of that.

We are all here for one reason and one reason only: to get each other to Heaven. To remind each other, every chance we get, that Christ is our Salvation. Our healing. Our wholeness.

yard sale----------> over here

Tomorrow we are planning to have a yard sale. We have scoured the attic, the basement, and both floors in between. Though I am sure I will find a ton of stuff "which should have gone in the yard sale box" next week.

I was on my way to the dollar store to try to find those little circular stickers to price the stuff when I decided to call my mom. We chatted a little and then she wanted to know what I was looking for.

uh oh

Me: "Stickers."
Mom: "Stickers? What kind of stickers?"
Me: "Oh, round, button shaped stickers."
Mom: "Like yard sale stickers."
Me: (cringe) "Yep."
Mom: "Are you having a yard sale?"
Me: "Mmmm hmm"
(Here it comes, she asks this every time. Even when I donate stuff. It's her version of a Jewish-mother-guilt-trip.)
Mom: "You aren't selling anything I gave you, are you? Oh, what am I saying, of course you are."
Me: "No, ma, I'm not selling anything you gave me."
Mom: "Oh yeah, how would I ever know?"
Me: "I'd never do that Mom. And I'll tell you why. Because I never want to answer 'yes' to the question."

e is for espresso (e is for envy)

A friend of mine invited me over to have cappuccino yesterday (and I just realized that I misspelled the word in my thank you note to her). She has a Barista Espresso machine. Let me go on record as saying that was the most delicious beverage I have ever had in my life. I told King that it was as good or better than the cappuccinos we had after Mass in that cute little sandwich shop in London a few years ago. Mmmmm... good memories. Which brings me back to yesterday.

After my reaction to the incredible, creamy goodness that's only 100 times better than "regular coffee" I inquired about the machine. Although hers was a gift from a very generous sister-in-law (hint hint Tish or Kath) she told me that Starbucks was phasing them out and had them marked down to $100 or less in their stores. When I got home, I promptly called every single Starbucks we have in this town (which is approximately one storefront per capita). Sadly, they were all sold out. Every last one.
Color me green.

language development: body parts

Number 4 was busily playing with his toys (aka making a huge mess of the living room). Number 5 was interested in the ball that her older brother was playing with. He did not want her to have it, so I suggested he bring her the Elmo ball we re-discovered the day before.

All of a sudden, a surprised/happy/excited look washed over his face! He dropped everything, raised his arms, then bent one and pointed.... "Elmo, elmo" he said as he pointed to the bend.
He was so pleased with himself that he knew a body part.

it's official

I have finally gotten to the second point of parenthood I have been dreading ever since I became a parent: the point at which my oldest daughter thinks I am blind and stupid. (The first dreaded moment was having "THE talk".)
We were getting ready to go someplace this afternoon where she had to look nice. She had a beautiful outfit on. I suggested that the only thing she change about her outfit was to tuck her shirt in rather than pulling it down, halfway to her knees, as if (size zero) she had anything to hide!
She tucks it in at my request and then makes a face like she had just been made to eat poop. "EW!"
"What?!?"
"I look TERRIBLE!"
"What are you talking about? You look fabulous."
"NO I DON'T. I look awful. I look stupid."
"Trust me, I would not let you go out of the house looking terrible, awful, or stupid. You look gorgeous."

This went on for awhile. Back and forth we went.
"How can you look in the mirror and be looking at the same thing I am looking at and tell me that you look awful? Honey, you are gorgeous." (Insert meltdown here- complete with tears and eye rolling.)

Deciding that I should leave her with her tantrum, I come downstairs and inform hubby that I have finally arrived at "blind and stupid" and that number 1 has finally arrived at "my hormones are making me think I look terrible when I am actually just the opposite". That and "oh, and my mom is an idiot for thinking otherwise".

Just before we left, after she had calmed down a wee bit, she asked if I would do her hair. "Sure, honey, let me get a comb." Then in an attempt to help her lighten up a bit, I giggled and said, "I'm gonna have to blog about the fact that I have "arrived".
"OH GREAT, DO YOU HAVE TO TELL THE WHOLE WORLD?!?!?!"
(Insert more tears and eye rolling.)

hmmmph.

Hormones!


Besides "the whole world" does not read my blog!