Shoved to Them

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

What She's Taught Them

2011-12-22T13:00:00.003-06:00

Sweet #7 is warm and snuggly and wonderful to hold and cuddle. Her siblings fight with each other for the chance to let her curl up in their arms and nap. She has no idea who they are.

She looks long and hard at each face with a definite "Who the heck are you?" look snarling across her delicate features. I'm not sure if she has bad eyesight or a short attention span (Squirrel!), but she can't seem to place any of us. I'm not exempt from her puzzled scrutiny. Sure she recognizes parts of me instantly, but she looks at my face and seems to think "You look awfully familiar to me.....I just can't quite remember where I've seen you before....Remind me, what was your name again?"

It's amazing that a person living in a house populated by strangers can trust us so completely. If she can't quite recall our faces, she at least knows that nothing bad has ever happened to her here, and there seems to be a surplus of love. This is the lesson she brought with her, all tied up in a sweet pink bow. She is teaching my other children (and her parents, too) what it means to love someone completely and selflessly and to expect nothing in return.

She hasn't yet developed the ability to truly love anyone back, but they certainly adore her. They don't get a smile in return. There are no kind words, no hugs or kisses. In fact, she's not always even nice. A warm embrace is just as likely to be greeted with her loudly filling her diaper or screaming for no particular reason as it is to be met with a contented and sighing baby. They don't seem to care. She's showing them that loving someone means accepting the disgusting and unpleasant parts, too. They know that she won't even be grateful for their care, but they wipe her spit-up covered chin anyway. They eagerly fend off the grabbing arms of younger brothers because "I just got a chance to hold her....."

Last night, my 10 year old stroked his sister's hair and sighed, "I just love her so much, Mom. Do you think she loves me?"

I brushed his hair aside and, kissing his forehead, replied, "not yet, sweetheart, but give her time."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then told me, "That's okay. I'll wait. I'll wait forever." And his mother smiled.

They are learning about perfect love, the kind of love God has for them. She is their specially chosen gift and their perfect Catechism lesson just in time for Christmas....and God was clever enough to wrap it all up in such a cute package that they not only willingly learn this lesson, they fight for the chance .

3 1/2 Time-Outs Tuesday (Vol 1)

2011-12-20T08:42:00.000-06:00

Because my life isn't interesting enough for seven on Friday with Jen, and because I count LarryD among my close friends.

1. The Computer Guy wass hunting this week in West Texas in a remote area with no cell phone access, so of course this is the moment when our 4 year old trips over a toy an whacks his head on the wall splitting it open.

Head wounds bleed. A lot. I'd heard that, but didn't understand the truth of it until I saw my son with blood dripping from his ear and soaking his sweater. The wall upstairs looked like a murder scene, and #5 definitely looked like the victim.

I'm proud of my ability to hold it together in front of children who lose it a bit at the sight of blood, and even to be cool as I held #5 as the doctor stapled his head back together.

My husband is no longer allowed to leave me alone with the children. This was definitely a "dad thing". War wounds and blood should be left to the men. Is it sexist? Yes, but in this case I don't mind being the fairer sex.

2. I've discovered that I can not be trusted with the Christmas cookies for longer than a 48 hour period. I love them too much for that. My post-baby weight loss has definitely taken a hit in the last week. I need to find people who need cookies so that I can get these things out of my house.

3. I left the planning of #7's Baptism gown up to my mother in law. She never got to dress a baby girl and was so excited to get to plan it all. I can't wait to see what she comes up with. It will be completely different from what I would have chosen, but even more special because of that. I'll keep you posted.

3.5 I really want to like Newt Gingrich as a presidential candidate. I would be delighted to have him for a dinner guest as I'm sure he's fascinating. (He's one of my favorite authors.) I'm not sure about voting for

One month old

2011-12-19T20:36:00.001-06:00

I'm not sure how she can be a month old already, but the calendar says it's true.

6 Years from Freedom

2011-12-14T18:45:00.001-06:00

12 years ago this Friday, our #2 was born. We had what we were told was the perfect family, "one of each," and we readily agreed. As the final lines of a poem which was penned by a coworker of the Computer Guy's ended:

"....Oh what joy,

you have a boy!

And so what fun

now that you're done!"

We were done. We were certain of it. There was a boy for him and a girl for me, and what more could we want for our family?

I talked to my OB/GYN about getting my tubes tied. We were positive, I assured him that we didn't want any more children. He counseled that we wait and discuss it a while longer. My husband and I were in out early 20s and that sweet baby boy was home after6 weeks in the NICU, but he was far from healthy. If he died, the doctor pointed out (a real possibility), then we might want to have another baby. He told me to wait until our small son was a year old. If he made it to his first birthday, we'd schedule surgery. During the week of #2's first birthday, we discovered that, despite our efforts, I was pregnant again. We weren't quite as done as we thought we were.

As our lives went on, we declared ourselves to be "done" many times. Each time we thought our family to be complete and perfect, and each time we were wrong. 5 children later, we no longer make that statement. We've learned that "done" isn't up to us. "Finished" is a God thing, and He's so much smarter than we are.

This past Sunday as I stood in the pew with our family, I looked at that long line of children, and I choked up a bit. I glanced at the profile of our eldest son. I realized again how tall he is getting and how close he is to being grown. Six years from now, he will be headed off to college and no longer a child. I welled up with tears at the thought of the reality of being done 12 years ago and what our lives would be like without the 5 youngest children, how quiet our home would be now, and how painfully silent our it would be in just a few years' time.

I will be 43 when he's 18. 43. If I'm blessed with the life-span of the women in my family, that will mean another 50 years after he's gone. 50 years in a house with no children. I can't even imagine it.

My neighbors talk about all of the things they will do and all the personal dreams they will fulfill once they reach their child-free years, and I will admit to envying them those plans at times. I know for certain, however, that I wouldn't trade the sound of giggling children or the cacophony of children's voices or even the clutter of all of their toys for all the freedom which my peers will soon enjoy.

If we had followed the wisdom of this age, we would be a short 6 years away from freedom, peace, and quiet. 6 years from our lives once again belonging only to us. 6 years from a quiet and orderly existence. I'm so glad it's no longer a place I want to be.

While I may daydream and play with the "what-is" in my mind, my mental meanderings are interrupted by the voices of my life's work, my magnum opus. Soon enough, the day will come when my babies are all grown and gone from my home, and the Computer Guy and I will look at each other in stunned disbelief at the silence and order in our home. We will breathe a contented sigh and then do the only sensible thing...

fill our house with grandchildren. Please God, may there be many.

Saving Money

2011-12-09T08:29:00.001-06:00

Because when I find a way to save a bit, I pass it on to you. It's tough out there. We should help each other out.

Two saving tips today:

The Computer Guy and I have begun using only store gift cards to purchase gas. Most gas stations will discount your gas $.03- $.10 a gallon if you use their gift cards. We can reload them on line from home. My favorite part is that when we budget for gas, we just put that straight on the cards. That way it doesn't get spent on something else and we don't get caught short a few days before pay day. Saving 10% every time we fill up with gas is definitely worth it!
Did you know you can save 5% on every purchase at Target just for paying from your checking account? I don't know why they don't tell more people about this, but it's a sweet deal. It's so easy. The credit card companies charge Target 6% of the purchase price every time you use a credit/debit card. That's a lot of money. Take in your checkbook to any checkout or the customer service desk and let them create a Target check card for you. It works like an electronic check and charges your checking account...because they don't have to pay Visa 6% they will thank you with a 5% discount. Awesome!

That's it for today. I'll let you know when I find some more!

Love and Laughter

2011-12-08T21:19:00.001-06:00

She's not yet old enough to smile on purpose. It will be weeks before she can laugh because something is funny. Our little #7 is still too young to do any of these things with meaning. So how is it that she does them all the time?

When she's awake, the baby looks around at the world with a serious frown as she attempts to figure it all out. But when she sleeps, she grins. Her tiny face beams with happiness. We thought it was just a baby thing until she started laughing.

Her eyes have barely closed before she starts to smile. It's not long after that the giggling begins. She giggles, chuckles, and once laughed until she snorted herself awake. All it takes to bring on the happiness is for her to be curled up and sleeping in the arms of someone who loves her. She never laughs when she's in bed or napping in her car seat, which is fine because she rarely has the opportunity to sleep in either of those places.
As long as someone in the house is awake, the baby is being held.

Our grandmothers used to warn us about spoiling babies. They told us that a held baby won't sleep in her bed and that we would never sleep. What they didn't tell us was the effect it would have on her. She glows with the love of her siblings. She overflows with the joy of being loved. At 3 weeks old, she is so filled with contentment, peace and love that she laughs in her sleep. The joy has become an involuntary reflex; it's just a part of her. It has become her natural state of being. Joy.

It is the new yard stick by which I measure my children's lives. Are they so well loved that it bubbles up out of them? When the cares of the day fade away and they relax into sleep, is laughter what they are left with? Because that's what love is.....love is happiness; it is joy. When all the rest falls away, let them be left with love and let them be left with joy. I hope they laugh.

Penitence and Ordinary Time

2011-12-05T07:08:00.001-06:00

The Catholic world is filled right now with a determination to make this Advent a meaningful season. The faithful are rediscovering that Advent was originally a penitential season second only to Lent. They are renewing the traditions of Ember Days and fasting during this season as they seek to make themselves ready for the arrival of the Christ Child. The "Spirit of Vatican II" generation is seeking to regain what has been lost in the last 40 years in terms of focus and tradition and they are eagerly embracing self-denial and somberness as a contrast for the celebration of Christmas which is coming.

It is a shame that we do not embrace the feast days with the same fervor.

The modern faithful are good at self-denial. We excel at penitence. We eagerly embrace the hardships of Lent, and now Advent, and use these times to draw ourselves ever closer to God, but we forget the rest of it. We forget the joy. We pass too quickly over the reward.

Our lives are enriched by Advent wreaths, Jesse trees, and praying the O Antiphons; but when was the last time we celebrated the Presentation in the Temple, or threw a party to celebrate Epiphany? Do we celebrate them, or have then just faded into being a part of January?

Where once Christmas was a celebration stretching from December 25th to the Feast of Epiphany on January 6th and then on to the Baptism of Our Lord in February, modern Catholics can barely bring ourselves to spend more than a day in the Christmas season before the tree is down, the decorations are boxed up, and exhausted parents everywhere declare that we are "glad that that is over." Christmas Day itself expends its energy in an orgy of present unwrapping long before lunchtime, then it becomes about work, travel and trying to cram in seeing as many people as possible before the 2 year old melts down into a fit at Grandma's house.

Come Monday morning, we will either be back in the stores hunting for bargains or back in the office at work and Ordinary Time will have descended upon us once more. No wonder we are exhausted. We have created our faith lives to mirror the way we live. It is all rush and busyness without a moment set aside to just bask in the overflowing joy of Christmas.

Our liturgical calendar is broken up into feast days, penitential seasons, and ordinary time. Why do we so eagerly ignore one third of the calendar? Why are we so fervent in the things which discipline our spirits and deny ourselves, and yet we are so dispassionate about the days which God has given us for our souls to soar?

Why are we afraid of merriment and revelry? They, too, are part of God's plan.

This year, why not change things? Embrace the trials of Advent. Push yourself as far as prayer and self-denial, but when it is over, be sure to treasure the Christmas season as well. Find the joy. Lift your voice in song and praise. Remember that this time of year is a gift and treat it that way, and don't allow yourself to slip back into the everyday drudge of ordinary time before you actually get there.

Unconditional

2011-12-01T22:27:00.001-06:00

My in laws are in town visiting us for the next few days. They are in the process of moving to Kentucky on what they laughingly call "our new great adventure." It is an unexpectedly daring move for people who aren't known for their unpredictability.

I watch their laughing excitement over the changes they are facing. I hear them speak in excited tones about the houses they're considering, and the kinds of furniture they might get to put in those rooms. It's like getting a glimpse of who they were 40 years ago when they were just starting out together. What a joy it has been for me today to hear them sound like young kids just starting out on something grand.

I will admit though to a bit of sadness that they are moving so far away from us and not a little bit closer. I want for my children to know what it is to have adoring grandparents as a constant fixture in their lives instead of as occasional guests.

My children bloom under the adoring gaze of grandparents for whom too much will never be enough.

My father-in-law patiently reads long and complicated bedtime stories which I never have the patience or the energy to make it all the way though, and he stops to explain the complicated bits and make sure everyone keeps up with the action. My mother in law holds the baby all day, relinquishing her only long enough for me to nurse, and then eagerly taking her back into grandma's arms. Even the distasteful parts of parenting, like diaper changes, aren't treated like a burden but a privilege.

How I wish that they lived on the next street so that I could learn from their example of how to love a child. I want to know how to slow down the day, set aside the chores, and just drink in the nearness of these little people. I want to learn how to look at the drudgery of my life as a mom of 7 and see the blessings which they find hidden in the work. Sometimes all that it takes is watching the example of someone else to show us the truth of what we have. I wish they were closer so that I could see their example all the time.

I want for my babies to have the blessing of unconditional love and acceptance as a fixture in their world. Where parents have to correct and discipline, grandparents have only to love and enjoy. They get to teach by much gentler means, and I think we are poorer for not having that gentle touch around us all the time.

So, I wish them well on their great adventure. I know they will enjoy traveling and exploring together (and I really do hope that my mother in law buys that yellow Corvette she dreams of driving), but I hope that they don't find what they are looking for in the mountains of Kentucky. I hope they come to realize that all the excitement they could wish to know is right here in a Dallas suburb and just wishing to drop in for a visit, a chocolate chip cookie, and an outpouring of secrets and dreams the way only grandparents get to hear them.

Tradition

2011-11-23T14:01:00.001-06:00

Last year at this time, we were preparing to move our family from Oklahoma City to the Dallas area. We had months to go, but I was already lamenting the loss of our family rituals and traditions.

Like most military brats, I was raised in a nomadic lifestyle. Holidays were not spent surrounded by family and friends, but with whatever relatives happened to come to visit if they came at all. I didn't know what I was missing until the Computer Guy and I moved to Oklahoma City and were surrounded by both sides of his close and loving family. Suddenly, my holidays were not quiet affairs, but huge reunions of 30-40+ people. They were loud and warm with children underfoot and all his aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents reminiscing and gently teasing each other. It was a kind of wonderful that I hadn't even known that I had missed when I was growing up.

This year we're in Texas and his wonderful family is 3 hours away. We have a newborn and aren't traveling anywhere or having anyone over. It's just the 9 of us for dinner. (I know that sounds like a lot to most people, but that's just a normal weeknight for us.) I've had a few twinges of homesickness for what we've left behind, but I'm also excited to have the opportunity to forge new traditions for our family.

We started off last week when I asked the children what they saw as the absolutely necessary components of Thanksgiving dinner. I was surprised to find that the things I thought were required weren't even on their lists. They asked for Great-Grandma A's chocolate cake but no pies (I'm making apple for their dad), cornbread and rolls but not the homemade kind that I slave over every year they like the kind from cans and mixes, mashed potatoes but not whipped, absolutely no dressing (again, making it for CG), and jello salad that I didn't think they liked but it seems the table would be empty without it. They left out my beloved green bean casserole and called it "disgusting glop" when I asked about it. Who knew they harbored such animosity toward a side dish? I keep looking over their amended menu and smiling to myself over the things they've requested which will become must-haves on their own tables when they are grown.

I had our creative 7 year old decorate the dining room all on her own. She fell in love with paper chains and swagged the entire room with them. Breathless with her achievement, she asked "Can this be my job every year?"

My 11 year old son dreams of being a chef. He talks about it often. I turned over his Grammy's apple pie recipe to him and only offered advice when he asked for it. He flushed with his triumph as we pulled it from the oven 10 minutes ago and announced that this family favorite was definitely going into his restaurant someday.

#3, age 10, said he wasn't really into cooking, but could he be in charge of entertaining the littles while the rest of us prepped and cooked? He led them in a boisterous game of chase and then settled them down before handing out snacks.

These are the traditions I want to create. The kinds where everyone contributes their own special talent and are an equal part in the celebration. The tradition of my letting go of my idea of perfection and a Norman Rockwell setting and letting it be about all of us celebrating each other and thanking God for the gifts he has given us.

I want to film it all, the next 36 hours so that I can turn back time when they are grown and drink in the joy and ease of this first Thanksgiving of just us. Instead I stole an idea from my neighbor and bought a Thanksgiving table cloth. She showed me hers which is covered in the signatures and good wishes of 34 years of Thanksgiving holidays. It had the tracing of her oldest daughter's baby hand and also her "thankful for" from the year her husband proposed. I read the prayers and praises of everyone who had ever sat at her Thanksgiving table, some funny, some thoughtful but all a welcome memory to her. That afternoon I went and bought a white tablecloth and a set of pens for us. 30 years from now, I hope to be able to look back at my own babies' writings and be able to remember where we were when they wrote them.

Life goes so quickly. We have a new baby and one almost off to college. Before too long, they will all be grown and starting traditions of their own. That's why we have days like Thanksgiving. They remind us to catch our breath, slow down and soak in the moment....and our traditions help to anchor those days in time and bring us back to where we once were and remind us that for one day we can all go home again.

But Do You Still Love Me?

2011-11-18T09:34:00.001-06:00

A pair of soft brown eyes peeked up and over the edge of my bed this morning. Two little hands grasped the blankets and prepared to haul my two year old up to his usual snuggle place next to me under the warm covers. His eyes twinkled and his mouth twisted into an impish grin, and then his sister squeaked. It was the tiniest of baby noises, but #6's face fell. He shook his head and climbed back down. His shoulders drooped as he walked dejectedly away.

I called to him and beckoned him back , but he shook his head and continued walking away.

My sweet boy is living in turmoil these days. He's trying to understand the changes in his family. He's trying to come to terms with all of his favorite laps being filled by this new girl who just doesn't seem that exciting to him.

He's learned that crooning over her "Awwww.....a baby so cute....." will earn him smiles, while shoving the intruder from my lap will bring universal condemnation down on his little head. He's trying to figure out the rules in a new world where he's not the baby and mom sometimes tells him to wait.

He's trying all the tricks for attention: being a "good boy", jumping off furniture while looking defiantly at me, doing everything we ask, telling us a sullen "no." Seeing him in turmoil pains my heart.

How do I explain to my sweet 2 year old that I know his pain and that it will get better? I know how confusing it is to watch someone else receive all of the good things you thought were yours. I know the jealousy of finding someone else in a place that I thought I alone deserved to be. I know the confusion of going from leading role to shared spotlight. It's such a difficult and painful place to be.

I wish I could tell him that he'll never have feel this way again, that the loss of being "the baby" is the hardest transition he'll make, but it isn't. It's just the first one. This will happen again with friends, schoolwork, sport teams, awards, jobs, girls. He will want to scream "unfair!" at the world many times in his life.

Then, as now, the question will be the same "Do you still love me?" He won't always be asking it of us or focusing his resentment in our direction. As he grows he'll be demanding that answer of God, and the way we answer his innocent confusion now will affect his ability to hear the answers then.

This is one of the weightiest responsibilities of parenthood. It is our job to model for our children the love of God. It is not our job to give him everything he wants the way he wants it, or to make his life easy for him. It is our job to show him gently that even when he has to share, or wait, or face disappointment, even if it is at our hands, that he is always loved and that there is forever room for him in our hearts even if he has to take turns sitting on our laps.

And then there were Seven

2011-11-15T15:32:00.001-06:00

For 48 hours I had the worst PMS ever. I was mean alternating with uncontrollable sobbing. It could mean only two things, either my husband needed to acknowledge that he had married a lunatic and put me in a padded room for the sake of humanity, or I was about to go into labor. Yay for me that it was labor, because that asylum thing was becoming a viable option to him. I could tell.

I have a post to write on the things I always forget between having babies, but not today. Today I'm going to snuggle with my little sweetheart and sniff the baby head. The Computer Guy was a champ last night, and again today when he herded the 6 big kids up to the hospital to meet their new sister.

When labor got to the worst part that I felt (God bless the epidural man), all I wanted was his hand to hold. At one point I couldn't see him because the monitor got moved around and blocked my view and I panicked. When everything seems bad and my body screams as it tries to turn itself inside out, he is the rock I cling to. It just reminded me of why I love this man and am so proud to be the mother of his 7 children.

To my sweet husband - I love you more today than I ever would have thought possible. (and it's not just the hormones talking)

To my patient readers who have listened to me grouse about late pregnancy, early pregnancy and the miseries of baby naming, here's our sweet #7:

Because so many of you chimed in on the great baby name debate, I'll post her name until tomorrow morning, after that she's our sweet baby #7.

Here's the vitals:
Weight: 6 lbs 10 oz
Height: 20 inches
Name: Sorry, you missed it

Your prayer intentions were a great focus during labor, and it was an honor to pray for you all.

God bless,
me