six a.m.

Having worked the "late shift" last night with #1 and her crazy dance schedule, I didn't get to bed until after midnight. This morning to my chagrin, the baby decides 4 a.m. is a great time to awaken for the day. Goodie.
Fast forward to 6 a.m. and I have just brought the dirty laundry downstairs to get it started in the washer. Number 4, (bless his little "NO, David!" heart) was eager to help out. I was trying to be as creative as I could about having him help. But his eagerness to be helpful outran his mother's ability to find something to have him do. Then it happened.

I was forced to use his whole name... All. Three. Names.

Each said with such clarity so that there would be no mistaking the fact that my gentle ("no, that doesn't go there, don't push that yet, etc.") reminders weren't just meaningless utterances. Secretly, I did get a little tickled, because, even though, believe it or not, this was the first time I had to Use. Three. Names., he knew exactly what it meant to hear them like that.

'nostril'damus

Number 4 (the only one of any of my children to be so clever) decided tonight at dinner to take two kernels of corn and tenderly place one kernel up each nostril.
Logically speaking, of course, they are the perfect fit. Perfectly shaped for such an orifice.

Note to self: Keep the carrots on the top shelf of the fridge until he gets a bit older.

risky business

There is nothing that will make a toddler "soil" a diaper faster than just having had a new one put on. Also, the frequency with which this happens is directly proportional to the number of diapers you have left.

Moral of the story: The Pampers Rationing game we sometimes play until hubby comes home so that we can run out and "pick up a couple of things" (bread, milk, diapers, 15 minutes without kids) will occasionally come with risks.

thankful lists

On Thursday morning, when #'s 2 and 3 were the only "big kids" awake, things were fine. Then when #1 was added to the mix, things got a bit septic.
Still trying to make lemonade from the lemons we were presented with that day, when the fights broke out, I made them all sit down at the dining room table and make a list of AT LEAST 25 things for which they were thankful. Big or small or both, it didn't matter, it just had to be at least 25.
They took turns reading them aloud after we ate "dinnuh". They were all thankful for their parents (whew), siblings (double whew), and extended family.... for their home, and for their Church and school. But each kid had a couple of really unique items. Here are my top three favorites for each:

My ten year old son is thankful for:

• being healthy
• having books to read
• having a good back and front yard

My oldest daughter.... who I should really call Violet (from the movie "The Incredibles") because it is written all over her face that she wishes she could disappear and have a force field around her and all that jazz.... is thankful to have:

• Jesus
• intelligence
• enough money to live

Finally, my tender eight year old, who has just begun to enter that very awkward, gawky time of life between, oh, eight and 16, give or take a year or so, is thankful for:

• her birthday
• her guardian angel
• love

We are going to make a paper chain out of all the items on their lists and string it on our Christmas tree to remind us during the Advent and Christmas season how rich we really are.

i'd even wait another whole year for a perfect moment like this

First and foremost, we are smack dab in the middle of my very favorite time of year. Hands down. You can have spring break and summer break. It's Thanksgiving and Christmas break which has my heart.
Thursday could have gone so many different ways. We had a lot of invitations to go many different places. We were even considering surprising my grandparents, which would have been a blast. But, we stuck with our plan which was to hole up in the house and not let anyone in or out. Our plan was to have NO PLANS.
Waking up at 5:30am, thanks to two beautiful, but early-rising, children, we decided to make lemonade with our lemons. King made a big pot of coffee and I got breakfast for #'s 4 and 5. (Or was that the other way around? Oh well, it was so early, who the heck knows!?!?!) We sat down at the dining room table and made the final decisions about our menu for the day.

Pecan coated chicken breasts

Homemade (aka not from a can) sweet potato casserole

Broccoli (hey, you've just got to have something green, right?)

Stuffing

Pecan Pie

Tea ~ Coffee ~ Milk

Then we worked on getting breakfast for ourselves and everyone else, who were finally descending the stairs in dribs and drabs. After all the dishes were cleaned up, we started on the big meal. Got the chicken all soaked in buttermilk and then coated in pecan meal. Got the sweet potatoes all diced and into a pot of boiling water, mashed, mixed and covered with marshmallows, etc., etc., etc.

We decided we'd eat at 1pm. At 12:30 I decided to try to get #4 down for a nap. He couldn't hold out for a 1pm dinner date. So he had a peanut butter and nutella sandwich about noon. When he started to get cranky, # 1 took him to the front porch swing to calm him down. I went out there to get him and he was all smiles and giggles. Though I needed to take a shower and get dressed for "dinnuh", I decided to sit on the rocking chair and watch him giggle.

Just as those dribs and drabs descended the stairs oh so much earlier in the day, so they started arriving on the front porch. All the kids decided they needed to be on the porch swing. Uh-oh, this is the recipe for disaster. However, this time, no one was fighting. No one was whining. All five children had smiles on their faces. They were all happy at once.

You have to understand, this is more magical than when my grandmother puts all the food out on the table that will feed 80 or so people and it's all hot at the same time.

I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. I couldn't breathe. It was the moment I had been planning for weeks. For months. Maybe even a year!

"Oh, honey, can you come out here to the front porch a minute?!" King came out there and sat in the other rocker and we just rocked and held our breath. We drank the goodness of the moment into every pore of our body.
This moment is one that I will remember as long as my brain cells will let me. It is a moment that I will tell people about for as long as they will listen. I am so excited that I was there to witness it. But mostly, I am glad I was able to appreciate it.

When we sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, a bit later, we had yet another item for our Thankful List.

happy thanksgiving y'all

religious persecution

For quite some time now I have had this secret guilt: that I have not had to endure persecution for being a Christian.
I was reminded of that as I was reading the scripture for Mass this past weekend during a rare moment that I took for myself to actually prepare to hear the Word of God. It is nice to be able to reflect on the scripture beforehand. I am not always organized enough to make it happen. Ennyhoo... I digress.
So, here I am carrying around this guilt. I have never had to go through a holocaust. Or a nightmarish hostage situation where my life or my death depended on my answer of "Yes, I am a Christian." Others have had to endure such hardships because of their faith. I have not. That doesn't seem fair.

Fast forward to Mass on Sunday.

King was chasing number 4 through the narthex and I was holding a very squirmy number 5 for quite some time before I decided to just let her crawl. Our other three children, who have outgrown this "you can't sit in 'big church' if you cannot behave" stage, were sitting in the Sanctuary so sweetly. They even looked to be paying attention. The whole while King and I were going through a hellish nightmare of kid-chasing.

Then it hit me. Like a ton of bricks right between the eyes. I am being persecuted for my faith. I believe in Christ. I believe all that has been handed down from the apostles which are the beliefs of the Catholic Church. And I believe in handing down to my children their heritage of Christianity. It ain't easy!

Actually, chasing a toddler for an hour or so during Mass is the easiest part of it. The real hardship is explaining to the children why we don't listen to just any ol' music on the radio and why we have to limit what they watch on tv and why King has to turn to the Weather Channel during the commercials of a Sunday afternoon football game so we don't have to explain what genital herpes is. We have to define abortion and gently break the news that they can't just ride their bikes to the park by themselves, and give them reasons why they have to be cautious of strangers, what a sexual predator is, the list goes on. All sorts of ways that humans have profaned God's Holy Design. Having to explain all of these things... difficult topics, different levels at different times... five times over.

The most annoying part of it is that we can't let our guards down. Ever. I am called to be a model of a Christian ALL the time. Not PART of the time. There is no time off for good behavior. Besides, what would "time off" mean anyway? I can only imagine it would lead to sin... can't you?
So, I shan't feel guilty about the fact that I have never been in a concentration camp or in a Columbine-type situation. I am being persecuted each and every day for my beliefs. Sure, there is no gun in my face. But I am looking down the barrel of the future. Raising five souls who will, in turn, pass along to their children such a rich, beautiful inheritance.