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!