Shoved to Them

The Thing I Can't Say Out Loud

2012-02-23T20:21:00.002-06:00

I will not say bad words.

I will not say bad words.

I gave them up for Lent, so I will not say the words I so badly want to say. I'm trying to not even think them.

When #4 was at Children's Hospital, I learned that the big fear was that all this swelling would act as fertilizer to the bones around it. Those bones would grow at unpredictable rates and cause deformities in her little body. I asked about it and was told that this is a very rare occurrence so I shouldn't worry. Kids' bones either grow weirdly when there's long term swelling or they don't.

Then we saw the orthopedist today.

Sh....dang it.

The x-ray of her foot shows that the bone in her swollen toe, swollen for almost 9 weeks now for those keeping track, has increased in width by approximately 50%. She's one of those kids.

F.....darn it.

Her knee has been swollen now for almost 4 weeks. How long before it, too, starts to grow? I don't know what the cut off is, but I know there's nothing being done to actively stop it. While the doctors search for answers and the rheumatology appointment looms still 2 weeks in the future, her body is rebelling against her NOW.

She's losing range of motion because of this wait. There are new problems being directly caused because of the waiting which will necessitate physical therapy at the very least.

SHE'S 7 YEARS OLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She's my baby. 9 weeks ago her body was normal. 5 weeks ago she was running and playing. Today I had to carry her upstairs because her leg hurts so much. Today she asked me if it would be hard to get a wheelchair because she'd really like one. It would be easier for her. She's 7 and asking for a wheelchair.

D............hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I put on my poker face so that she doesn't see my worry. I have to protect my children from seeing the fullness of my fear. I will not say those words, but I can't stop feeling them.

Accepting the Challenges of Lent

2012-02-22T13:55:00.001-06:00

As millions of Catholics around the world mark the beginning of the Lenten Season with Masses and ashes, we take a moment also to reflect upon our lives and prayerfully consider how we can draw nearer to Our Lord through fasting, prayer and alms giving.

When I was a girl in the 1980's there was very little focus on the purpose of the Lenten Season, a casualty of the poor catechesis of the last 40 years. We were taught instead to give up chocolate every day and meat on Fridays. It was just one more ritual in a life which was filled with them. My life was filled with rules which I didn't fully understand, and this seemed almost more like the initiation ritual for an exclusive club than a religious observance.

Now that I am grown, I approach Lent with a new perspective. It is a time of austerity for which my soul aches every year. The sensory overload of Christmas and the New Year winds down in a frantic pace as we approach Mardi Gras. When Ash Wednesday arrives, I am ready for the rest from feast days and Ordinary Time. I am ready for the challenge of self sacrifice and the invitation to draw myself ever closer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

This year I had planned to again give up Facebook and sleeping in and to attend daily Mass. This was my plan. The more I prayed about it and opened myself to listen to God's plans, the more I felt led to fast from other things.

fasting
I am a woman with an Irish temper. It flashes hot and loud and I am a yeller. I also have picked up quite a potty mouth since moving to Dallas. The traffic here is horrible and all too often I say words which I ought not to say. This year for Lent, I am fasting from volume and cursing. In changing my tone I will also change my content and praise my children at least 5 times a day each without attaching a criticism to them. Thinking of the sacrifice that my Savior made for each of them shames me when I think of how I sometimes sound when I talk to my children. My family deserves a mother and wife who is kind and in control of herself. I need to speak to them in the calm affectionate tones I want them to remember, the voice of the mother God wants me to be to them.

prayer
I have gotten very lazy in my prayer life and do not speak to God as often as I should. I will still give up my lazy mornings. Instead of Mass, I will pray a rosary every morning, dedicated each morning to a different one of my children. There are so many of them that it is all too easy to think of them as a unit rather than as individuals, so I will pray for them one by one. I have asked each of them to make a list of intentions for me and I will spend Lent praying for the things which are important to them rather than those which are important to me.

almsgiving
We live in a home which is filled to the rafters with mounds of stuff. Not things which are important to us in anyway, just things which we own. We have a surplus where others have great need. Because of this, I will be taking a grocery bag of donations to the local charity thrift store every day. I don't worry that we will have enough to give away, but that we will still have a surplus when Easter arrives.

I intend to spend the next 40 days striving to be the woman I am called to be. This family is a gift He has given to me. It's time that I treated them that way.

The Gifts They Want to Give

2012-02-20T19:56:00.000-06:00

When I was 22 and gave birth to my first child, I had very definite ideas about how I wanted to dress her, how her bedroom should look, and opinions about every minute detail of her life. She was my baby and there was a part of me which feared that sharing the decisions about what was purchased for her in some way diminished my role as her mother.

15 years and 7 babies later, if I could go back in time and talk to my much younger self, I'd want to say "Let people give your children the gifts they want to give them. Let them dream fanciful thoughts for your babies. Share the joy of your babies with the people who love them."

#7 on Aunt K's quilt

When we discovered that #7 was a girl, I designed in my head the perfect bedding. I envisioned pink and funky, modern and bright. My husband's sweet Aunt K is a seamstress and offered to make anything my heart desired. I found the perfect fabric and sent it to her. A month later the bedding arrived in the mail. I was delighted with the beautiful things she had made. She was not. A few weeks later, she called and said she had made a different quilt for the baby. It was the quilt she had wanted to make all along. It took my breath away. It was even more lovely than I could have wished. It was a gift borne of her imagination, love and talent. It was quite simply a gift of herself.

My mother-in-law offered to buy our sweet girl's Baptism gown. She told me to select it and she would write the check. How did I want to dress our girl on this most special day? I thought about it for a few days, and it was honestly too much for me to deal with in the midst of moving, homeschooling, pregnancy and life. Did she want to choose it? She is the mother of two sons who always wanted a girl. I told her to pick what she had dreamed of dressing her own daughter in some day. It was completely up to her. I asked for no details and gave no guidelines except length and color (white, of course!). Last Friday, I was shown the culmination of the planning and love of both of my husband's parents for our tiny daughter. Crafted of white silk dupioni and embroidered with pearls, it was a dream of a dress. My in laws dream. It had the puff sleeves my father in law blushingly told me he would have dressed his own daughter in. The slip was made of the softest flannel because her skin is delicate and February is cold. They didn't want #7 to catch a chill in her fancy dress. The hem of her slip bears a Scripture verse her grandparents chose especially for her. Instead of a traditional blanket to wrap her in, they opted for a fantasy of a white cape, embroidered with her name and Baptism date and lined with the softest velvet imaginable. How tiny my thoughts were in comparison to their vision. They could have bought the gown I picked, but instead they wrapped her in a gift of themselves and beamed with pride as their girl became God's own.

The deacon from our old parish asked our opinions about the Baptism itself. I left it to him, and the Litany of Saints was filled with those whose names we bear as well as those he knows have special importance to our family. He spoke movingly of our family and found all the words we needed to hear when he wrote down what he wanted to say.

Our beloved Oma offered to make a dinner for us. We had planned to simply go to a restaurant because we no longer live in Oklahoma City. She was adamant that no baby of hers was going to be Baptized without a party, so she gave our daughter the gift of a celebratory dinner. I had expected that we would arrive at her home for cake and punch, but found instead a spread of turkey and sides, a fantastic cake and a champagne toast to welcome #7 to our family. It was a reflection of Oma's joy in the girl she loves.

I've found as #7's mom that I can let go. I can step back and trust the people we love to make decisions for our children because they adore them, too. When I let our loved ones give the gifts they want to give instead of just the things we request, they far surpass my expectations. When I'm in charge I ask for stuff and when they are they give the whole of themselves. How can anything I want ever be better than that?

The Case for More Sex

2012-02-16T16:37:00.001-06:00

****This seems really obvious given the title, but this post is about sex. If you're not old enough, GO AWAY. There will be something else for you to read another day. This one's for the grown ups.****

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine and I were talking about the pressures of married life after 15+ years. We talked about the demands of children, our husbands' work schedules, and our ever growing to-do lists. I told her how it often feels as if my husband and I are two people who are traveling in the same direction and not always together.

"You need more sex," she said matter-of-factly.

I laughed it off, thinking that she must be joking. The last thing I want at the end of a day spent with children hanging all over me is to let one more person climb all over me, no matter how much I love him. I need some breathing room! (Sorry, honey! It gets better, I promise.)

The longer I thought about her suggestion, the more wisdom I saw in her advice, so much that it's the advice I've been giving out. Ladies, our men need more sex! (Don't look at me in that tone of voice. You do have time. What kind of time commitment are we talking here? 30 minutes 3 times a week? You've spent more time than that watching HGTV for goodness sake.)

Sex used to be a fun romp of play and spontaneity. At some point after we became parents, we began too often to forget to be lovers. When I'm honest with myself, I admit that I miss it. I miss the hands that would graze across my body or the sexy innuendos on the phone. I miss him chasing me. I need him to be not just my husband but my hot lover, and guess what? He needs that, too.

Where I spend my day filled with little people kissing, hugging and loving on me all day long, my husband does not. He comes home in the evening having given his day up for us, and when he "makes his move", I often sigh or plead fatigue or headache. He doesn't hear the message I think I'm sending (that I'm too tired and worn out), he hears that I'm rejecting him! If he hears me reject him long enough, eventually he stops trying. (Please don't stop trying!)

It took a few weeks of really thinking and praying about it before I truly understood. My husband needs me to wrap him in my arms. He needs me to be his love, not just his children's mother. He needs to be held close to me and to feel my skin on his own. He needs to be shown that he is loved. He needs to feel that I love him.

I know all the arguments against more sex, i.e. you're tired, he's annoying, you're pregnant/breastfeeding, you actually do have a headache, etc. I don't care. Sex is a gift you give to your spouse. You wrap yourself around him and show him that you accept him and love him as the person who he is. You silently (or not so silently....let that freak flag fly girl!) tell him again that he is the other half of you and that you wouldn't have it any other way.

What are you waiting for? Put on your sexiest underthings (the clean ones without the fraying edges). Put the kids to bed early. Then wrap your arms around his neck (arms not hands) and plant a kiss on him like you mean it. He'll take it from there.

P.S. I won't go into any more detail, but it works. Chase your man around the bedroom and watch the smile that he walks around wearing all day. (If you're home alone and you're lucky, it will be all he wears all day.)

P.P.S. Not for nothing, it's good for you, too. It improves the complexion, burns a few calories and puts a smile on your face that tells the world you're well loved without your having to say a word.

You're welcome.

3 1/2 Time Outs Tuesday # I forget

2012-02-14T16:28:00.001-06:00

#7 was Baptized this weekend in our Oklahoma parish. (I miss that parish. It's home for us.) She cried a bit during it all, but I wasn't worried a bit. Oma said that was just "the devil coming out." Must have been because that night she started kissing us. No devil = Slobbery baby kisses

Today is Valentine's Day and I have a tradition of giving my readers a "little Valentine." Here it is, his head.

I still want to find the smarty pants with the label maker who pasted his name on his pate. I'll bet that guy is a hoot.

Tamales for dinner, a dozen striped roses, and red hots in my ice cream! My husband loves me.

I wrote him a love letter in long hand and then didn't write it on the blog. He thinks I sometimes over share and that privacy is kinda hot. Happy Valentine's Day, Computer Guy! That note was yours alone.

3 1/2.

A couple different people have asked me for marriage advice this week. I listened to them all carefully and came up with the same starting place. Why don't you start with more

Facing Reality

2012-02-13T23:03:00.000-06:00

I must confess that I am a bit of a hypochondriac where my children are concerned. Their health is my responsibility. They could live or die on the decisions I make for their care. It makes me a little nuts. There's not a spot that they get that isn't the chicken pox (We're all going to die!) or a croupy cough that isn't pneumonia (We're all going to die!). I freak out in the beginning...always...and then gather my wits and figure out what's really going on with them (heat rash or allergies usually). Then life goes back to normal and I calm down until the next spot appears (Measles! We're all going to die! I don't care that they were vaccinated!)

That's where I find myself with #4's knee. I freaked out and took her to the ER. She had an appointment with an orthopedist the next day, but the joint was hot. I freaked out and took her to the hospital. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a calm voice telling me that this was just my normal parenting style which usually turns out to be nothing serious and that life would go on as normal. I waited for someone to find a bug bite or evidence of an injury, but they didn't.

We got a referral to a pediatric rheumatologist, but can't get in until March 4th. Part of me was outraged that she would have to wait so long in pain with her swollen knee. The rest of me was calm. It would go down. We'd never actually need the appointment. It would turn out to be an injury of some kind or a weird allergic reaction to air.

That hasn't happened yet.

My husband and our sweet Oma keep telling me that they think it looks better. I want to be reassured, but it looks the same to me. It feels the same to her, but they are so certain. Am I paranoid or is it like the emperor's clothes? Are they seeing what they want to see? How can it not be better?

We're rapidly approaching the time when all hope of an injury or freak bug bite will be past. We're getting to the point where an injury would be healing. I asked a friend of mine, one of those great friends who just tells the truth even when it's ugly to hear, if it looked better to her. She gave me an emphatic "No."

Damn.

Two weeks until the rheumatologist. Please let me be paranoid. Please let me be a freaked out hypochondriac. Please?

Clarification

2012-02-12T18:12:00.003-06:00

The Obama Administration is using the "preventative care" mandates of the 2010 Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act to force religious people to provide morally objectionable contraceptive, abortifacients, and sterilization procedures in direct contradiction of the tenets of their faiths.

Perhaps it's time to review what Preventative Care is and isn't.

The National Library of Science defines Preventative Care as referring to "measures taken to prevent diseases,(or injuries) rather than curing them or treating their symptoms."

Let me simplify this a bit for you:


This is a disease (Cholera)

This is not a disease.

This is a disease (Measles)


This is not a disease.


This is a disease (Small Pox)


This is not a disease.


This is Preventative Care

This is NOT!

Agree? Why not pass it on? Click the Facebook "F" or Twitter "T". Thanks!

Numb

2012-02-08T07:29:00.001-06:00

There is fear. Real. Choking. Fear. I tell myself that it is not "of God," but I can't hear me. There is numbness filling me and then a torrent of tears which I must hide from my children lest they become frightened, too. I look for places to set it down, if only for a moment, and they do not exist.

She broke her toe! That was all it was. It was destined to be a family joke and the subject of teasing for years to come. The toe was broken, we were so sure of it. Until it didn't heal. Until the swelling never went away. Until the xrays last week showed no break and no dislocation, just pockets of fluid. Until her knee swelled up, too.

Damn that swollen knee!

It was that knee that landed us at Children's Hospital. It was that knee whose xrays showed no injuries. It was that knee that was revealed to be filled with fluids which puffed it up until we could no longer see her kneecap. It was that knee which my husband had to hold her while it was drained. And she screamed. She screamed for them to stop and I could only sit in the corner and rock her sister and cry. It was that knee which made them say words like arthritis and autoimmune and rheumatology. And I sat there too numb to respond.

Crap.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

We don't even know for sure. The not knowing triples the hurt. I need to know my enemies and stare them down.

The specialists can't see her for a month. There are so few doctors for juvenile arthritis. No official diagnosis means no treatment plan. It also seems to mean no improvement. Only my aching child.

Sometime soon I have to take away her childish dreams for this year. She won a solo in her ballet recital and got to wear a purple tutu. She can not dance on her knee. How do I steal that excitement away? I'm already dreading her tears. It just seems like one more pain to lay upon her and she's only 7. She has to stop her beloved karate at least until the swelling is gone, but who knows after that? She just earned her orange belt and lived for Tuesday and Thursday nights. Her dreams for herself as a grown up are largely untouched, but those childhood wishes have been reduced to "I want to be able to run." Running? Are you freaking kidding me? We're back at running? She mastered that at 2. How are we at this point?

It's only been 6 days since the knee swelled. I've gone from long joyful prayers of thanksgiving to the numbness of one choked out word. "Help."

You Don't Get In Trouble For That

2012-02-04T20:10:00.001-06:00

Last night an hour after bedtime, the Computer Guy and I heard the sound of voices from upstairs. At least two of the boys were not asleep. After a quick game of "not me!", it was decided that I should be the lucky one to go put them back to bed. ( I'm not a fan of that. The stairs are steep. There are a lot of them. It's dark at night. There are vampires in the dark. The usual complaints.) As I got to the top of the stairs, I could see a light on in the bedroom of #'s 2 and 6.

"I'm going to kill them," their loving mother muttered. "Why can't they just go to sleep like normal people?"

I felt myself getting more irritated the closer I got to their room. #6 is only 2. What was his brother thinking to be playing with him so late? He's not so fun on too little sleep.

I adjusted my face into the mommy "I'm not happy and you might die" scowl and opened their door.

There in front of me were both of my sons curled up under the covers of the elder one's bed. The two year old was holding a rosary in his chubby hands and repeating the words of his brother. "...lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of thy Mercy," he said in his sweet little boy voice.

"What's going on guys?" their humbled mother asked.

#2 looked a bit embarrassed to be caught breaking rules and answered, "He was scared of the rain and lightning, so we're praying the rosary, but I can't remember the 5th sorrowful mystery."

"Crucifixion."

"I thought so. Is it okay if we finish before we turn out the lights?"

I told him yes and closed the door behind me.

We're pretty strict at enforcing bedtimes, but praying with your little brother? Yeah. You don't get in trouble for that.

Prediction

2012-02-01T16:24:00.003-06:00

"I expect to die in bed, my successor will die in prison and his successor will die a martyr in the public square".

Francis Cardinal George, the Archbishop of Chicago
(on the current state of affairs)

A Call to Arms, My Brothers!

2012-01-30T17:49:00.002-06:00

Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn't speak out because I was Protestant.

Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me. -Martin Niemöller

This past week, the Department of Health and Human Services under the Obama Administration violated the First Amendment's Religion Clause by preventing the freedom of Catholics in the United States to freely practice our religion. To a practicing Catholic, our faith is more than the church service we attend on Sunday mornings or the ashes we wear at the beginning of every Lent. Our faith is the governing force by which we live our lives.

With its Contraception/Sterilization Mandate, the Obama Administration has taken direct aim at the Catholic Church through our foundational beliefs in the value of every human life and in the supremacy of God over us which are the driving forces behind our stance on these controversial issues. Their demand that Catholics provide access to medical procedures and pharmaceuticals which we hold to be intrinsically evil and certainly against the very roots of the faith we profess is an affront to every American.

Their unconstitutional mandate has left American Roman Catholics in the position of choosing between obedience to God and obedience to the State.

How have we arrived at a place where United States citizens are confronting the dilemma of choosing between their faith and being American? This is the country raised on the tales of the Pilgrims' flight from England in order to escape religious persecution. The American colonies were begun with the ideal that all men had a right to practice their faiths according to the actual tenets of those religions and not according the whims and permissions of the government. We were revolutionary in the concept that our inalienable rights were derived from our Creator and not from the largesse of a sovereign or legislature.

President Obama has, through his Department of Health and Human Services, turned his back upon almost 400 years of American history. With this one Mandate, he has trampled upon the intentions of our Founders who so fervently believed in the rights of people to worship (or not worship) and to believe (or not believe) as they saw fit that it is the first right enshrined in the Bill of Rights

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof

I have heard many people say "I do not agree with the Catholic Church's stance on contraception." No one is asking for you to do so. It is sufficient enough that we believe it.

Those who would frame this as a debate on reproductive rights are being misled or are attempting to mislead. This attack by the Obama Administration is not about sexual rights. It is about our religious freedom and the very Liberty which every American considers his/her birthright. With this decision, United States Government has granted itself authority and jurisdiction over every church, synagogue, mosque and cathedral and allowed themselves the power to enforce their own secular worldview upon all believers.

It is in light of this that we call upon you, our brother Americans, to stand with us against this unjust and breathtaking power grab. Do not be deceived into thinking that it ends with us or with this ruling. The very Right of Religious Freedom is at stake.

What can you do to help? Contact your Senators and Representatives and tell them that government oppression is intolerable. Call the US Dept of Health and Human Services and tell them that their power grab will not succeed. Call the White House and remind them that the United States threw out one tyrant with King George and we won't hesitate to do it again!

Click the Facebook F or the Twitter T to spread the word! Thank you and God bless!

My To-Do List for Today

2012-01-27T10:54:00.000-06:00

**It's bad poetry day today at StT. See how I embarrass myself for your entertainment? You're welcome!**

There are mountains of laundry this morning for me to wash, fold, and put away,
but my tiny girl is smiling at me. How can I help but stay?

The carpet is in need of vacuuming and floors which must be scrubbed,
but my little one loves her bath, and so we linger in the tub.

The sheets are rumpled and askew, the bed just begging to be made.
But my sweet girl is cooing, I must hear what she has to say.

The trash in the can is overflowing it must be dragged out to the curb today,
but the baby is making faces. How can I help but play?

There are bills which need paying and all kinds of things I'd planned,
but my tiny one is holding my thumb. How can I loosen her hand?

There are dishes which need washing and dinner to defrost,
but she right now is yawning and I don't want this moment to be lost.

The bathrooms all need scrubbing. There is toothpaste every place,
but in my arms she's dozing with a smile upon her face.

I've learned that babyhood is fleeting and then its sweet moments gone.
The house just must stay messy and a million things undone.

There is only one sweet thing which must be done today,
because tomorrow will be to late for me to mother her this way.

So here we sit, curled in this chair, my sweet small girl and me.
We have cuddling to do and lullabies to sing.

We have cooing at each other and grinning on our list.
We've napping, and playing and a slobbery baby kiss.

Dinner for Theresa

2012-01-25T12:47:00.000-06:00

My friend Theresa asked for my goulash recipe. I asked her if she wanted it in email, IM, or the blog. She said on the blog so she could print it out. Here you go, Theresa, and anyone else who needs a dinner idea:

Hungarian Goulash

Ingredients:
1 lb beef cut into small cubes (you can use hamburger in a pinch)
2 med onions minced
1/4 tsp dried mustard
1 1/4 tsp paprika
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 1/4 tsp salt
3 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
3/4 tsp apple cider vinegar
6 tbsp ketchup
1 1/2 cups water
egg noodles

Brown meat on all sides. Add onions. Add all ingredients except noodles to meat. Stir, cover. Cook on low heat 2 1/2 hours until meat is tender.

If you want the sauce a little thicker (you will), add flour to 1/2 cup of water, stir to combine then add to meat. Stir until thickened.

There you go, Tea! Let me know how it tastes with moose!

The Pro-Life Thing You Should Start Doing Today (Even if You're Pro-Choice)

2012-01-23T23:16:00.001-06:00

Today was the March for Life in Washington D.C. and thousands congregated in our nation's capital to show their support for the unborn among us and their mothers. It wasn't just Washington which saw these huge crowds, although you wouldn't know it from the news coverage, thousands of marchers showed up in communities all over the country to speak out for the voiceless.

I love their passion and admire their dedication. Every year I hope to be able to join them, and while it hasn't happened yet, I'm sure I'll get there someday. In the meantime, I've found my own gentle protest, my own uprising against a culture which is trending against the value of children. Where our country is hardening itself against the beauty of Life, I've made myself a quiet spokesperson. Being a parent is difficult even in socially acceptable circumstances. It can become defeating when it seems as if your beloved child is unwanted by the world. So those of us who value the lives of these children should say so.

Will you join me?

Will you smile at the mom in the grocery store, who is herself on the verge of tears, as her two year old melts down and she wants to hide in shame? Will you look her in the eye and reassure her that this is temporary and that while this moment is bad that it does get easier? Will you reach out to her and be the kind voice she so badly needs to hear? Will you tell her that her screaming monster is beautiful? Will you see past the noise and see their humanity?

Will you smile at the mother at the park whose child bears the unmistakeable signs of birth defects or genetic abnormalities? Will you look at her baby, the one others avert their eyes to avoid seeing? Will you see past what others see as ugliness and see the beautiful eyes that reflect his mother's love? Will you comment on the beauty of his spirit and the lovely joyous lilt of his laugh? Will you talk to her and listen...really listen to this woman whose choice to carry her baby has made her an outcast among most of the people she meets?

Will you smile at the mom whose family seems too large? Will you see in her 12th baby the same beauty that you would have seen in her first? Will you be kind in your words and greet them in the library check out line instead of impatiently sighing as each child must run her own books across the scanner? Will you offer to hold the baby as she fumbles for her keys? When they walk past you in a restaurant and tables must be moved to seat them all, will you compliment her on how lucky she is to be surround by all that love? Will you see them for the family they are instead of the spectacle they easily become?

Will you smile at the mother whose child has been lost? Will you remember to speak his name and not be afraid to bring him up? Will you look at those heartbreaking photos from the day that he was born and see not the dead child she delivered but the living love she lost? Will you remark on his sweet face and the beauty of his hands? Will you allow her to still be his mother even though he's lost to her? Will you be the one who sees the mother when just the woman is standing there?

Will you smile at the woman whose womb is empty still? Will you be gentle in your joy as her own heart breaks in two? Will you ignore the tears she tries to hide and yet hand her the tissue box? Will you let her talk about it for as long as the ache is there? Will you be the person who listens to her pain? Will you wrap your arms around her and love her when it's hard? Will you be the smile she needed to get her through this day and not be offended if she just can't look at you?

Will you be the person you want to be in the back of your own mind? Will you be the kind and calm voice the word just aches to hear? It's funny how the mean and cruel words are flung at us without a care, but the kind words are held close as though their cost were very dear. So take the time to smile at all the people you run into today. It's the very smallest thing, and yet it can change so much in the life of someone who needs to see it. This is what we are marching for, the beauty we say we protect. If all life is valuable, then we should behave as if it were true. Will you join my little campaign? Will you smile at them?

***Are you joining me? Why not spread the word? Click on the Facebook F or the Twitter T at the bottom of this post and pass it on.***

Three Girls In White - Our Season of Grace

2012-01-18T22:34:00.002-06:00

This is the year of our White Spring. All three of our daughters are receiving sacraments. All three will be wearing white gowns. All three.

It's still a little strange to me that we have three daughters. Even with the youngest one always in my arms, I still catch myself suddenly realizing the happiness of having our three and the smile is uncontainable.

Our Sweet #7 will be Baptized next month. We waited longer than usual so that we could take her back to Oklahoma for her first Sacrament. We wanted her to be surrounded by people who love her, and to introduce her to her earthly family at the same time she joins God's family.

Lovely #4 has her First Confession next weekend and her First Communion in May. She has spent hours looking for the "just perfect" dress and the veil to go with it. There were a few tears last month when the dream dress was discontinued and she had to begin looking all over again. I explained that the focus of this day was not the dress, but her love for and relationship with God. It is about the first time she receives Jesus Christ, body, blood, soul, and divinity. It is the first time she will be asked publicly if she accepts Him and the first time she gets to answer 'Yes.' She solemnly nodded. I know she gets it. I also know it's still a little bit about the dress.

#1 is getting Confirmed on Cinco de Mayo. She proved that she is a natural blond when she asked what date that was exactly. Her lapse of Spanish aside, this is the Sacrament I'm most anxious to see. This is the one which she makes wholly on her own. This one is her decision alone. She publicly declares her dedication to Christ and His Church, not because we say so but because she does. She has been ready for this for at least a year now, but God has prepared her heart even more. It has been a rough season on loneliness in her life. She went from a tight group of friends to not even one nearby. For a long time it was the pain in her life, but it was in that pain that she found strengths she didn't know existed. It was in her loneliness that she turned ever more to God.

This has been a year which brought #7 life, #4 confidence and brought #1 a calm maturity. It is with these gifts that they will go before their Heavenly Father this Spring arrayed all in white and clothed in Grace. What a season this will be in our household as our girls enter into new ever deeper relationships with Our Lord. The past year has been a hard one, but at last we are here. We've arrived at our Season of Grace.

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #5

2012-01-17T12:31:00.002-06:00

My 7-year-pld daughter broker her toe last week. We have no idea how she did it. Our best guess is that she fell out of bed and hit it wrong on something. (She falls out of bed a lot.) The puzzling thing is that she didn't wake up. She went to bed at night with a normal looking toe and woke up the next morning with it swollen larger than her head (slight exaggeration...so sue me.) It never really hurt her, just was purple, swollen, and wouldn't bend. It wasn't until I messed with it that she complained about pain. My boys are kind of wusses about pain, but my 7-year-old is someone to take into battle with you. She's an "It's just a flesh wound" kinda girl.

Last week I went over 1000 posts on this blog. I can't believe I had that much to say or that some of you have been reading from the beginning and are still here. Thank you.

I put the Angry Bird app on my phone last week and I already regret it. My children hound me night and day to be allowed to play it. I think that my original rule of "No games on my phone" was the correct one. Now to break my own addiction to it and delete the darn thing.

3 1/2.

I started a new blog of my ADD brain, Seven Minutes in My Brain. Stop by and say

As always, thanks to LarryD for hosting.

2 months

2012-01-14T23:47:00.000-06:00

How can our #7 be 2 months old already? It doesn't seem possible. Her newborn days have already slipped away and she is now a baby. It won't be long before she is a girl and then grown.

I keep holding her, this perfect replica of my firstborn, and wondering where the years have gone since I was a first time mom holding my precious baby and now she is a sophomore in high school. In two years she will be out of my house and a woman. How can that be?

Does anyone know how to slow down time? Have they invented a way to savor every precious moment? The tighter I try to hold on, the faster they slip away.

2 months old and trying to be bigger.

Slow down little one. Curl up and snuggle in. Tomorrow will be here before you know it, and we will be discussing colleges and boys instead of singing lullabies. Don't be in a hurry to grow. Just let me enjoy your littleness for a moment longer.

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #4

2012-01-10T11:22:00.003-06:00

Last week I wrote The Standard Bearer's Battle Hymn which was linked to by The Pulp.it and NCR. I'm over the moon excited, but still slightly amused that the blog post before that with the half-naked cowboy got double the hits. The ladies all protested that they didn't like that muscle-y man, but they sure hurried over here to see what on earth I was writing about.

*I'm not saying here that you should use half-naked man pictures to boost your hit count, but it's effective. But don't do it because it's bad. Really bad. I'm shaking my finger at you. Shane on you for thinking of doing it anyway. Yes, I'm looking at you with the mom stink-eye. Yes, you. Shame.

Earlier this week, I was in the computer nook paying bills and listening to #7 whinging and complaining as she was waking from her mid-morning nap. I was kinda ignoring her in favor of paying the electric bill, they get mean if you don't pay them, plus she wasn't selling me on the fact that she was serious yet. Then she started shrieking bloody murder and I decided she was serious.

I darted around the corner of my bedroom to see my 2-year-old hugging the baby tightly to his chest around her calves. Her head was near his knee caps and her fingers brushed the floor. He had come to his sister's aid, grabbed her ankles, dragged her off the bed, and was holding her legs with one arm as he patted her and coo-ed "Shhhh. Shhhhh. It's okay bay-bee. I love you. Shhh. Shhhhh." She didn't seem very reassured or comforted at all. I guess being dangled upside down immediately upon waking is upsetting to 7 week olds. I'll make a note of that.

Have you seen the presidential candidate Vermin Supreme? The guy with the boot on his head?

He's promising money for time travel research, mandatory teeth brushing because there are people out there with rank breath and ponies for everyone. #7 heard that, pulled on her sock, and decided to join the revolution.


Free ponies? I'm in!

3 1/2.

I learned last week that I can hide shredded sweet potato in anything with tomato sauce. I hid a huge potato in the spaghetti the other night.

Rambling - Eight Minutes Inside My ADD Brain

2012-01-09T22:06:00.002-06:00

**I started one post and my mind started wandering, so I wrote it all down. This is the way I think all the time. Welcome to 8 minutes inside my ADD brain. This is how it thinks to be me....**

This evening I'm curled up in my beloved husband's favorite chair as he stretches out on the couch. Our sweet #7 is draped across my arm and dozing. I keep thinking that she has at last fallen asleep and I should put her to bed, and then she will peek at me from one eye, smile, and doze off again. I'm such a sucker for those grins that they keep me holding her just a bit longer.

It's a strange feeling to be someone's security, as though I were some sort of super hero, although of course I'm not. (This is where my brain went off track.) It sure would be fun to be though, wouldn't it? I wouldn't want to fly, of course. I'm terrified of heights. It might be more honest to say I'm terrified of falling. Do you think you could fear heights if you could fly and falling weren't really an issue?

I think I'll call this post "rambling" because that's what my mind is doing tonight. It's a strange word isn't it? Rambling. I wonder where it comes from.

The Computer Guy is up now and folding laundery. Hmmmmm...laundry doesn't have an e. I wish he could learn to sit still and be quiet, but he's learned to be constantly up and going. I envy him that sometimes. I can sit for hours without moving. My mind is never still though. I wish I could burn calories by thinking. I'd be stick thin. Instead I can sit for hours but love to eat. Love.

I'm obsessed right now with baked apples with cinnamon and butter, and also with sweet potatoes. Also loaded with butter. Maybe I'm just obsessed with butter. Is there anything closer to heaven than hot melty butter? I wonder how many religious people I offended by my saying that. That butter was like heaven. It is. I'm tired of worrying about offending people. I deleted that heaven thing once already to avoid holier-than-thou comments. I'm tired of "religious" people with no sense of humor. If they can't laugh they should just be up front and honest about it. Do you think Heaven is full of people who never laugh? Would you want to go there if it was? Should that be were? If it were? I don't know. Now the grammar nazis will come for me. Is the word nazi losing its meaning because we use it so much?

Do Germans get offended by that "n" word the way Black people do by theirs? Do they call it the "n" word? How does it become less offensive to refer to it by letter than to just say it? People still know what word you mean. Maybe we should just use a different letter like "b". No wait. There's already a "b" word and it's not very nice either. Not as bad as "n". Do the letters mean worse things the further you go down the alphabet? What could "x" be? There should be more "x" words. That part of the dictionary is too skinny. It's not fair. Look how much space "r" takes up.

The dishwasher is really loud tonight. Why should it sound louder tonight than this morning? What kind of people run the dishwasher so many times a day? Lucky people. We could be washing them by hand. I actually prefer by hand. I think they get cleaner, but the Computer Guy disagrees. He thinks the hot water in the machine is better than that in the sink. Do you think that's possible?

The baby is peeking and smiling again which is I think where I began. Baby smiles and super heroes. I don't think I'd want one. A super power seems like more trouble than it's worth. Like mind reading...do you really want to know everything people are thinking? Everything? Like if they can see that chin hair you didn't pluck? Not me. I'd like to be able to think in a straight line, but not all the time. Just think how many thoughts I wouldn't think.

The Standard Bearer's Battle Hymn

2012-01-06T08:15:00.000-06:00

Armies everywhere used to march into battle with their standard bearer (the guy with the flag) right up front. He was the visual proclamation of who an army was. He was absolutely essential in warfare, and darn near a required part of battle He did not fight the battle himself, rather his job for the army was to bravely march forward announcing to everyone who saw him "this is who we are and what we stand for, by golly!" There was no mistaking allies or enemies in a time when a contingent unfurled their colors and lifted them high for all to see.

Those of us with large families are the modern day standard bearers of the Church Militant. We are an obvious physical symbol of the Church in the modern world. Our presence loudly proclaims that we believe in the gift and value of life . After all, we have surrounded ourselves with it.

Many times in recent years, the parents of large families have been left wondering where the army has gone that we are representing. As we face increasingly vocal and hostile opposition from a world which values self over sacrifice, our churches and pastors are silent in the face of the onslaught.

Our pastors have chosen fear over bravery. Instead of loudly condemning contraception for the evil that it is in the world and teaching the proper place of sex in society, our spiritual leaders have chosen to remain silent rather than be unpopular. It is easy to rail against the evil of abortion from the pulpit; it's not hard to be against killing babies. It takes a much stronger man to call out the evil of the Pill and the creeping destruction it has had on society.

Their example of cowardice has taught their flocks that such things are not truly important. They have left us, the flag bearers, unprotected. When we meet with hostile looks and unkind words at the store; nasty comments and resentment within our parishes (even from our clergy); the unceasing pressure from doctors, friends, and even strangers to contracept; or disbelieving stares and ugly anger within our extended families, even in front of and to our children, there is very often no one to contradict them. There is no cavalry riding to our defense.

When representatives of our modern culture condemn us to our faces for "overtaxing the planet's resources" or ridicule our "irresponsible breeding", our fellow Christians more often than not will simply turn away. They are afraid of confrontation and so they back away from the battle, either because they are ill-equipped to fight it, they are scared, or because they quietly agree with the aggressors.

We, as a Church, need to do better than this. We need to protect those who are so visible, and we need to better equip those we are sending into the world. We need our priests to teach about sex, not just abortion, but all the moral issues wrapped up in that three-letter word. We need to be taught about the cancer of contraception, not just once every few years when a guest speaker shows up (if he comes at all), but often and with frank honesty.

The people in the pews need to be told that this is a battle for our very souls and we need to be taught to recognize the weapons of the enemy. There is a reason for the decrease in the number of larger families in the modern world. It is a failure of leadership. The faithful are not being taught that children are a gift from God and are to be treasured and welcomed that way, and so even the faithful weekly church-goers have fallen into the trap of ease and convenience. They have been allowed to go forth in ignorance because our priests and bishops fear public condemnation, but their silence condemns us to what they fear. Their people, the Church Militant, could be marching happily to Hell because there are too few people willing to stand in front of them and speak the truth.

We desperately need our leaders to lead. We have read the Bible, heard the Truth and answered the call. We are here, eagerly standing firm against a culture which it often seems is beginning to hate us. We have answered the call. Where is the rest of the army? They have left us to face the Enemy and his cohorts alone.

Without an army, the guy with the flag is no longer a proud member of anything. With no soldiers to back him up, standard bearer is nothing more than a fancy name for the target.

Cross-posted at Defend Us In Battle. If you don't already read Joe's blog, you should go check it out.
thanks to my friend Peace for putting this idea in my head weeks ago

Throw a Napkin On It

2012-01-03T23:54:00.003-06:00

Women are not sexually attracted visually. We don't see a beautiful man and think nothing but lustful thoughts for the rest of the day. There's a reason why there are no truly viable female alternatives to Playboy and the rest. We just don't work that way. Men are attracted through their eyes and women through our brains. Ask Cyrano de Bergerac and he would tell you, women need words, action, and a lot more words.

This makes it difficult for us to understand the temptation that visual things are to men. We just don't work that way, and so we advocate that all men need is stronger self control. Men simply need to take custody of their eyes and control of their biology. Why can't men be more like us? After all, we can look at gorgeous men and then go back to discussing important things, like politics or shoes. Lets put it to the test shall we?

My apologies to my male readers. I would have included a picture of a hot girl in order to make my point, but I didn't want you to get stuck here.

Are you reading again already? What was that? 30 seconds? a minute? Are you like me and your eyes keep darting up there but you can carry on with reading anyway? It's because our brains are wired differently. It can be hard for us to understand the temptation we become when we flash cleavage fore or aft. We just don't look at men the way they look at us.

But we look at pie that way.

We look at food and know what it is to lust after something we see. The soft creamy texture of cheesecake topped with fresh berries

the warm melty gooey-ness of fresh from the oven chocolate chip cookies

delightfully decadent, rich and sinful chocolate cake

Whether it's the creamiest pudding, hot and salty french fries, or a perfectly aged and grilled steak, women can't take their eyes or their minds off of food. It is our temptation and our mistress. We know the truth about why women read cookbooks from cover to cover like a novel. It's food porn.

If there is a plate of something tasty on the table and a fork nearby, I can hardly concentrate on anything else. No mater how interesting the conversation, my mind will wander again and again to the sight of the meringue on the coconut cream pie in all its silken goodness. My resolve will falter, my gaze linger. The thought of sight, smell, texture, taste....all of it, will consume my mind. I will eat bite after savory bite without being conscious of the quantity and to hell with calories and the consequences!

I learned long ago to throw a napkin over it. When the cravings hit me and the doughnuts call my name, the only thing I can do is to remove it from my sight. I have to actually leave or conceal the object of my desire or it will be in my mouth and I won't remember how it got there. The remorse will set in as I lick the last crumbs from the fork, but by then it is too late.

This is how women's bodies are for men. Boobs are the chocolate cake. The small of our backs are the pie. We have to help them out and throw a napkin over it. They're on a diet, ladies. A strict meal plan of just one course. We know how difficult it is to ignore the goodies on the table. We know how hard it is to resist just that one little taste of goodness. We know how hard it can be. Don't we owe them the favor of covering it up and making their self-control a bit easier to manage? The next time you ask someone to take away dessert to help you resist temptation, use it as a reminder to make sure your own goodies are covered up and off the table, too.

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #3

2012-01-02T10:58:00.003-06:00

I picked up the baby yesterday morning. She studied my face for a moment. Her eyebrows raised as if to say "Hey...I know you!" and then she smiled with the whole of her face. What a happy morning. She knows who I am and she likes me!

The renters in our OKC house are insane with their expectations. They want everything done yesterday, call or text a dozen times a day (on Thanksgiving) until they're done, and complain when it's not done the way they wanted. (This wasn't an emergency y'all. It was getting the hedges trimmed. They called on Thanksgiving morning and wanted it done that day.) When they moved in, their insurance company paid 6 months in advance (they lost theirs in a tornado). This is their first month of paying the rent themselves and guess what? It's late. Would it be unreasonable to return the 10 times a day texting/calling favor? I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

A boy texted my daughter last night to ask her out (I think.) She said something about Christmas not being over until Epiphany. He replied "Oh, you're Roman Catholic?" and the religious debate began. When she began to mop the floor with him (she's heard his arguments before) he said "Your tone isn't very attractive right now." To which she replied, "You're attacking my church. I'm not being attractive. I'm being right."

3 1/2.

My 12 year got an ocarina for Christmas but no lessons....

Thanks to LarryD for hosting!

What Kind of Crazy Do You Take Me For?

2011-12-31T10:57:00.001-06:00

Whenever #7 and I leave the house to run errands, I do most of the running and she rides along happily in her sling. She snuggles in and snoozes while the grandmothers we pass sigh in appreciation and a bit of envy at the sight of the little pink bundle which I am privileged to get to carry. But yesterday...yesterday three different women at different times came up to me to take a peek and all three jumped when #7 grunted and moved in her sleep.

"Oh my goodness!" They exclaimed. "I thought that was a doll in there!"

Really? I'm a grown woman. There are no other children with me. Why on earth would I be toting a baby doll around in a sling? Am I giving off that kind of aura of crazy? Look at me from the side....do I look crazy to you?

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #2

2011-12-27T12:18:00.001-06:00

When you're not cool enough for 7 on Friday.

It's still Christmas, y'all. Are you still celebrating? We're taking a vacation from school until after the Feast of Epiphany on the 6th of January.

We've invited the neighbors for dinner on the 6th to celebrate the 12th day of Christmas. I'm working on a menu but am having a hard time finding partridges or calling birds. Do you have any menu suggestions?

This Advent, I had the great honor of praying for JoAnna from A Star of Hope. She has a sweet new baby for Christmas this year, which made it such a joy to pray for her and her family. All my middle of the night feedings, and quite a few daytime ones, were spent in prayer for her. I love those quiet night-time hours for prayer, don't you?

For Christmas, the brilliant Computer Guy had the last year of my blog printed in a hard-back book. It somehow seemed so much more meaningful when I saw it in book form instead of on the computer. This blog is many things, but one of the most important is a record of our family and of my babies growing up.

3 1/2.

Then, just for fun (and because he knew I'd love it) he gave me a rhinestone crocodile. Oh how I love that man!

Isn't it fabulous? I have the best husband ever!!!!

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T20:45:00.001-06:00

A very merry Christmas from our house to yours!

L to R: #4, #6, #1, #7, #5, #3, and #2

and the obligatory baby photo:

#7 in her Christmas dress

Shoved to Them

The Thing I Can't Say Out Loud

Accepting the Challenges of Lent

The Gifts They Want to Give

The Case for More Sex

3 1/2 Time Outs Tuesday # I forget

Facing Reality

Clarification

Numb

You Don't Get In Trouble For That

Prediction

"I expect to die in bed, my successor will die in prison and his successor will die a martyr in the public square". Francis Cardinal George, the Archbishop of Chicago (on the current state of affairs)

A Call to Arms, My Brothers!

My To-Do List for Today

Dinner for Theresa

The Pro-Life Thing You Should Start Doing Today (Even if You're Pro-Choice)

Three Girls In White - Our Season of Grace

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #5

2 months

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #4

Rambling - Eight Minutes Inside My ADD Brain

The Standard Bearer's Battle Hymn

Throw a Napkin On It

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #3

What Kind of Crazy Do You Take Me For?

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday #2

Merry Christmas!

"I expect to die in bed, my successor will die in prison and his successor will die a martyr in the public square".

Francis Cardinal George, the Archbishop of Chicago
(on the current state of affairs)