Ramblings

Lucy is 17 months old, an age that I have been waiting for, thinking about in the back of my mind, since her birth. This was Abbie's age when her tumor was diagnosed.

Abbie at 17 months
Lucy is absolutely healthy, and I have no (and have never had) any cause for concern. Brain tumors are not genetic. But I figured that I would breathe a sigh of relief anyway, once she'd passed that milestone without showing any worrying signs. And I do feel better, a bit relieved, but it has also been strange to watch her. I can't help but mentally compare the baby that Lucy is with the baby that Abbie was. I watch Lucy and I think - Lucy can do this, and Abbie couldn't. Abbie could say this, but Lucy doesn't need to.

This isn't to say that I am obsessing over this, or anything. I don't dwell much on Abbie's ordeal, or at least I make a conscious effort not to. This is the sort of thing that a person can get bogged down in forever, and I don't want that to happen. Abbie is healthy, and thriving, and hilariously quirky and I want to be able to fully appreciate her. If I can't let go of the past's hardships, I can't give the present's joys their due. I have four other daughters as well, all of whom have been fearfully and wonderfully made, and I want to fully appreciate them. As Mother Theresa said: The past is gone. The future is not yet here. We have only today. Let us begin. Sounds right to me.

Lucy at 17 months
I'm going to tell you about Thursday, however, and why this period has been a little...unsettling, I guess, is the best way to put it. I was cleaning Lucy up after her breakfast, and she was resisting me. There were little flakes of oatmeal stuck under chin, and to prevent me from reaching them Lucy craned her neck down, so that her chin touched her chest. I was simply in the moment, trying to clean up this psycho baby, when Lucy looked up at me with her chin still lowered. I'm not sure I can really even explain what happened. I was no longer in our house, looking down on stubborn little Lucy; I was standing in my townhouse looking down on Abbie, and thinking, "What in the world is wrong with this baby's neck?" It wasn't that I remembered the fear, and worry, and heartbreak of that time. For that split second, I was there, feeling it.

This lasted no more than a second. I shook myself, finished cleaning Lucy up and got the girls ready for school. I barely thought about it again that day. Chris took the younger girls up to visit his parents, so I had the morning free to run errands, and then I volunteered in Claire's class all afternoon. It was a good day.

That evening, Chris and I settled in to watch the VP debate. We're both feeling pretty bitter and jaded about politics these days, so we were mainly making snarky comments to each other, or expressing frustration with this non-answer, that smoke-screen. But when Biden began talking about losing his wife and daughter, and he choked up for a moment Chris turned to me, just in time to see me burst into tears. I cried through the rest of the debate. I couldn't even really tell you why.

So, there. I haven't bothered to even analyze why I wanted to put this on the blog. I know that I wanted to acknowledge, in some way, that - hey! - Lucy made it to 17 months and things are looking good. And I guess in some way, too, I'd like to say : We hope the worst is over, and everyone is doing really well. But, you know what? It was all really, really hard. Please don't stop praying for my family.

Chris' Masterful Mojitos + Rock Band=

More fun than you should probably have on a Tuesday night.

But, man! It was fun. I am telling you people, if you don't have Rock Band yet go get it! It's fun for the whole family, it's fun to force your guests to play along, and it is a fun, fun, fun way to remind yourself - after a day changing diapers, arguing with tiny people incapable of seeing reason, cleaning crumbs off of the floor - that yes you could have been a rockstar. You are a rockstar!

That's all. I just felt the need the share.

First fire of Fall!

How's that for alliteration?

There are two seasons that always find the Mlinek family obsessed with fire. We love our cozy, warm, crackling fireplace in the winter, and we go crazy over our (admittedly, very primitive) fire pit in the fall.

The fire department behind our house was holding a bluegrass festival last Friday and the day was cool and crisp, so we hauled some logs down the hill and roasted ourselves some hot dogs (and apples, and marshmallows) for dinner. The music from the festival was fun, although the girls really enjoyed the s'mores more. We'll do this quite a few times before it gets too cold, but last weekend was just magical. It was the first fire of the season, and just so much fun.

Roasted marshmallows and sandboxes, however, mix just as badly as you'd think they would:

Better late than never, right?

Here are the pics from the girls' first day of school.

So far, this year has been going well! I was the most concerned about my little Larry, but she has taken to kindergarten like a fish to water (or like herself to water!)

At one point during the summer, Claire came over to me and exclaimed (does she ever say anything that isn't an exclamation?) "I cannot wait to start school....well, except for the learning part."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, sums up nicely why I worried about this year.

Of all the girls, Claire definitely has the least amount of patience, and I was concerned that all that sitting-still and listening-to-directions stuff would be hard, hard, hard on this impulsive little thing. But she is so very happy to finally be a 'big girl,' to finally be in school like her sisters, that she's turned the full force of her energies into being the best kindergartner possible.

There's a lesson in here somewhere about channeling our talents (Claire=energy) into whatever tasks life gives to us, even if those tasks aren't exactly up our alleys. Lucy is crying upstairs, however (I should not have told my friend yesterday that she is a good sleeper. This is your fault, Monica, for goading me into saying it!!!) and I need to cut this short. Long story short - I'm pretty darn proud of Claire. She brings this intense little jolt of happiness into our lives that I am so grateful for. And she has layers of abilities that constantly surprise me. All of the girls do, but today I'm particularly lookin' at my brown-haired moppet, and that bright eyed little thing is making me smile.

A first for me

It has taken me almost 9 years and five children for this to happen, and it was every bit as unenjoyable as I imagined.

I had to call poison control.

Yes, you guessed which child occasioned it.

The funny thing is that earlier in the day I was talking to my mom on the phone, and mentioned that we have been spending most of our time outdoors because Lucy gets into less mischief there. Not ten minutes later I was desperately trying to pry a bright red berry out of her mouth. I did not succeed, and she swallowed it with a shudder.

The good news is that the berry was only a little bit poisonous. Lucy will hopefully wake up from her nap fully revived. The bad news, of course, is that I have no safe place in which to seek refuge from her tyranny. Oh Lord, please give me the grace to guide this child (relatively) safely through her childhood; well, that or a padded cell.

It must be nice to have no inhibitions

Abbie was playing in the kitchen while I was clearing the table after lunch. All of a sudden she stood up, headed for the bathroom, and declared, "This girl has got to poop!"

My back wasn't even turned

I made a major mistake this afternoon: I gave my full attention to the pan I was washing. I know, I know. I should have known better. I should have kept my head in the game. I should have bolted every cabinet in this joint closed before turning my face to the sink.



Here's what happened in the time it took me to wash one (small!) pan:

Flour. Everywhere. We've seen this before, haven't we? But now we have a dog. In the initial scuffle, Jasper's water bowl was up dumped, turning the flour on his paws and nose into glue.

I'm not even going to talk about the floor. The kicker, though, was that after I had scolded Lucy thoroughly, cleaned up the mess in the house, placed the remaining flour into a plastic bag and knotted it shut, and then taken the dog outside to beat the flour out of him as though he was a dusty carpet....after I had done all of these things, I came back into the house to find this:

She did it again.

As it turns out, pastry flour glues up just as easily as regular flour. I guess that's useful information to have. However, if you happen to be seized with a sudden desire to bake while at my house, be prepared to add an additional 20 minutes into your prep time to access the now heavily guarded flour. And pray for me.

complete surrender

Yesterday was a perfect day to live in a house full of girls: TCM was running a Katherine Hepburn marathon. A couple of the girls wandered into my room while I was folding laundry during Bringing up Baby, and they were immediately hooked. Katie and Beth in particular loved it, so we decided to tape A Philadelphia Story* and I let them stay up late last night to watch it with me. Chris stayed in the basement for all of five minutes after we started the movie, when he loudly declared that he couldn't take it and was going upstairs to watch football.



I love it when he tries to assert masculinity in the face of all the pink-fluffiness of this place.



So, fast forward to this morning. It has been chilly here the past few days, and although the weather is warmer today the water in the pool is pretty chilly. Chris and I were discussing just how cold it might be, and whether it would be worth it to swim this afternoon. (I am notoriously wimpy when it comes to cold water.)



"It's going to be pretty chilly, "he said,"so you might want to start getting in the pool now so that you're finally used to the water by the time we girls get in."


He stopped and looked at me, but it was too late. "The girls and I!" he said, "I meant the girls and I."



I probably laughed for five full minutes. And while swimming this afternoon (it was very cold), I couldn't help but giggle from time to time. He tries, God bless him, but this boy has no chance. No chance. All the football in the world can only do so much against the tide of estrogen washing over us every day.

*As it turns out, A Philadelphia Story is way racier than you might think. We ended up turning it off.

Are you wondering why I haven't been updating lately?

Here's why:

Lucy climbed up on a kitchen chair and then tipped it backwards onto the floor, barely escaping breaking her neck. She then climbed back up onto the table and dumped a cup of milk onto the floor. Then she crawled into the dog's crate, ate a handful of his food and started to gag. After holding her over the sink (in case she puked) for a few minutes, she immediately went back into the crate and grabbed yet another handful of dog food. When I took it away from her, she bit me on the arm. When she was done crying (ahem), she climbed onto a bench and tried to push a box of wine bottles that we've been too lazy to recycle onto the floor. Luckily, it was too heavy and I had time to intercept. I set her back onto the floor, and she ran to the drawers where I keep bills and dumped the entire thing onto the floor. The dog was delirious with joy and immediately began to shred the paper. As I was picking up the bills, Lucy opened a cabinet door and dumped a bag of dog treats on the floor. (You can see why Jasper is so fond of her.) As I was cleaning up the dog treats, Lucy opened the liquor cabinet and pulled a large bottle of Maker's Mark off the shelf. I put the bottle back and pushed a stool in front of the door to deter her. She pulled the stool away and grabbed the bottle again. She was enraged when I would not allow her to play with the whiskey, so to vent her frustrations she reached out her hand and was about to rip out a handful of the dog's fur when I stopped her. She then screamed for ten minutes.

This all occurred between 5 and 6pm.

Chris wondered why dinner was late.

The only thing atypical about this evening was this: Lucy usually messes with the dog's water bowl as well.

I'll report back when I can, but I don't know when that will be. It's hell out here.

Been in the 'burgh

First of all: Hi Patty! (waves!) At least I know you will read this. :)

The girls and I made the trek into Pittsburgh last week, taking advantage of the summer break to get a longer-than-usual stay in the land of my birth. We had a great time! It was very nice to not only get to see almost everybody, but to get to see some of them a couple of times! We fit in a trip to the zoo (to see the baby elephants), a drive-in (WALL-E - loved it), a day at Kennywood (the standard, for me, against which all other amusement parks are judged), an afternoon at South Park, a brunch at Michael and Colleen's, and lots of time over at Bobby and Margaret's pool. At one point, Aunt Margaret stopped in at my mom's house, and Abbie immediately ran upstairs and put her bathing suit on. Pavlov would have been proud. Chris also made his way in over the weekend, bringing Jasper with him (to the delight of my mom, who I can tell has really missed being able to say, "Becca, get your damn dog!")

So now we are all back at home, decompressing after such a busy and fun week. I am really, really glad that we were able to come in. I miss all yins guys a ton.

I'm going to finally put up some more pictures on flickr, just as soon as I can remember my password, but in the meanwhile here's a good picture to sum up this past week. My mom, in an act of extreme bravery, doing what anyone who knows her would consider unthinkable: conquering her fear of heights to ride the Umbrellas with Abbie:

Two Peas in a Pod

Lucy, who has been walking since before she was 9 months old, has taken to travelling on all fours again. The better to communicate with her new best friend, I guess..
Jasper declines his breakfast of dried-lamb in lieu of Cap'n Crunch, courtesy of Lucy's appalling table manners. (Note the chairs set in a circle around Lucy's high chair. I did that, thinking it might keep Jasper from reaching her. He's grown a lot more than I realized.)

I love this dog, although he is driving me crazy...but I love him (but he does drive me crazy.)

I broke into hysterical and not-entirely appropriate laughter the other day while talking to a group of women. I was talking about how similar training a puppy is to raising kids, and I said something like, "What I realized after getting the puppy was..."

One of the other women interrupted and finished my sentence by saying, "...what a mistake it was?"

Jasper is going to be a great dog. He is a good dog already, he's just.....rambunctious and still confused about where to take his bathroom-business. When he's great, he's a total joy. When he goes over to the window, scratches and whines once before immediately urinating all over the floor, then gets caught up in all the commotion (because the girls are all screaming) and runs through the puddle, leaving disgusting little paw-prints all over the floor.........and then jumps all over me with those paws while I'm trying to clean it up, desperately, you see, because Lucy also likes to run through puddles and leave footprints.......well, then he is not such a joy. Then, life itself doesn't seem like such a joy.

Right now, though? Lucy is sound asleep (oh thank you, Lord, for making that particular wild animal need naps!), the house is quiet (thank you, also, Lego Indiana Jones), and Jasper is curled up under my feet, fast asleep. He keeps shifting, but he always keeps at least a paw on my foot, and occasionally comes to just long enough to lick my hand. And I'm totally feeling good about having a dog.

Talk to me in another hour, however, and it could be a completely different story.

(As an aside for anyone who might feel like answering: Would it be reallyreally bad of me if, when Jasper bites onto Lucy's diaper and prevents her from moving, I took a picture instead of immediately removing him? Because, aside from the look of terror on Lucy's face, they look exactly like that famous sunblock ad.

Take that, Donna Reed!

102 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Superior Take the test!

I thought for sure that not marking the "is pleasant in the morning" and "is neat and orderly" boxes would do me in, but I guess Chris is luckier than I thought!

(I thought I'd add this picture for effect: it's a cherry pie I made last week! With cherries from our yard!)

Just a cute picture of a crazy little baby

I expected that the first few weeks of house-training the dog would be hard, but this I did not expect: Jasper is a very good dog, but he is a bad influence on Lucy.

We were out by the pool the other day, and I had the little inflatable one set up as well for Lucy and Abbie. Jasper kept trying to bite the plastic, but after re-directing him a few times he got the hint and left it alone. Not long afterwards, however, I looked up to catch Lucy flashing me a huge grin.......right before she bent down over the side of the pool and bit it. She even tossed her head from side to side, just like the dog. Re-directing works great with Jasper; with Lucy, not so much.

Jasper also likes to run around the yard a few times a day, and for the first few days it took some coaxing to get him back into the house. He would jump around when I opened the door, still wanting to play, and trot a few steps back towards the yard when I came to get him. He's getting much better, and more often than not will immediately run into the house now as soon as I open the door. Lucy, however, now thinks that it is the funniest thing in the world to start running for the hills as soon as I call her to come in. Luckily, those chubby little legs aren't conducive to a fast getaway but, for goodness' sake!! She has also taken to licking our hands as she passes by. How many bad habits can a baby pick up from a dog??

I know that right about now you are probably thinking about this post and giggling to yourself. I can't blame that one on the dog, but adding him to a mix like that could make things a whole lot....you know, I can't even finish that thought. I don't want to think about it.

As we have been reading up on training animals, we've come to the realization that Lucy is just like a problem pet: she begs for food, doesn't listen to commands, is loud and unmannerly...the list goes on. Well, if she's going to act like she's a little female Tarzan, living with the wolves, maybe I should treat her like one. I think I should train Lucy and Jasper together. He needs to learn how to live with humans and she......well, she needs to learn how not to act like an animal. It will be interesting to see who is giving me more trouble in a few months. Tune in for the results. :)

(My money, for the record, would be on Lucy.)

Life Wasted

Beth woke up at 11am today, which is actually pretty impressive given the fact that she didn't get to bed until 2am. I don't generally (read: never) let the girls stay up that late, but last night was a very special exception because Beth and I were at a Pearl Jam concert in Philly. Yes, that's right: I took my 7 year old daughter to a rock concert. And she freaking loved it!

We found a great spot on the side of the lawn, between the sidewalk and the retaining wall. We could see the stage perfectly but were removed from the bulk of the (increasingly rowdy) crowd, and we danced and sang our hearts out the entire time. This was my first Pearl Jam concert as well, and.......wow! Those boys can rock! Beth (as she always does) summed it up best as we walked out of the venue. She threw her hands up into the air and said, "That was stupendous!"

I had so much fun - it was a blast to see Pearl Jam, and it was a blast to watch Beth have the time of her life. She is just the coolest kid; I've never known any other little girl (aside from Claire) to love rock music as much as she does. She knew most of the songs beyond the super-obscure ones, and was just so funny and sweet and carefree as she danced around and sang and felt the music. It was.....well, stupendous!

I am stealing this caption from Uncle Mike

Sorry (yet again) for the long silence. There's been lots going on around here, what with the start of summer, a week-long visit with my Chester cousins while the grown-ups went on a cruise, my in-laws' long awaited move from Illinois to near-here, and a computer crash (it is still not working -I'm writing this from my laptop.) I'm finally back, though, to announce an important addition.

Life has been in danger of getting manageable around here, so we've done what we always do when we get to this point - we've added to the family! This time it's different, though, because.....

It's a boy!!!!!

The horror.....the horror...

Yesterday, I experienced something that I really didn't believe would ever happen to me. I've heard of such things happening, but I thought I was immune. For one thing, I am an excellent parent. For another, I have been told time and again that my children are filled purely with sugar and spice and everything nice. This sort of thing, I though, was for those "other people."

Well, yesterday was God's turn to have a laugh.

Lucy's diaper was wet. She wasn't at mission-critical yet, but I announced to my mom (who was playing with Abbie and Claire) that I was going to get her a diaper, and then I went upstairs to do just that. However, I ended up talking to my sister in the kitchen for a good half an hour. It was risky, I know, but Lucy's diaper really wasn't that wet.

Claire eventually came up to the kitchen as well, and as Rachel began to give her a haircut I took the diaper I had been holding for 30 minutes and began my descent down the stairs.

At the top of the stairway I heard Abbie announce to my mother, "Lucy is poopie!"

"Oh, okay," said my mom calmly, without looking up. There was.....something about Abbie's tone of voice, though, and I hurried my pace down the steps. I rounded the bend and encountered Abbie, who immediately said to me, "Lucy is poopie!" Her eyes were wide with horror. There was a split second where I noticed that a wet diaper had been wrapped up and set on the steps, but I didn't really have time to process it. I went around the couch, and called to Lucy. She ran up to me immediately, smiling in that adorably sweet way that babies have, and she lifted her hand to give me something.

I remember this moment as though it happened in slow-mo. It was like an exact reverse of that famous scene in Caddyshack. "She's holding a protein bar," I thought, as my hand sloooooowly reached down to receive her gift. In my memory, the voice in my head is even deep and half-speed, the way they do it in the movies. Imagine, if you will, my slow-mo voice saying, "Ooooh, proooteeein baarrrr," as my arm moves down towards my smiling baby.

But it was not a protein bar. Oh, no, it wasn't. There is no delicate way to put this, no way to sanitize this written account, just as there will never be a way to sanitize my hands to my satisfaction. It was not a protein bar. It was a gigantic chunk of poop. Once this realization hit my brain, I went directly from slo-mo to hyper-speed, shouting instructions to everyone around me like an emergency room doctor. "Wet wipes!" I yelled, "Plastic bag! Diaper! Somebody run the tub!"

Thank goodness Lucy has been eating so many bananas. Seriously. This whole scenario could have been a lot worse if she had been on a kick of, say, grapes or prunes. Still, I will never be the same. None of us will ever be the same.

What happened was this: my mom noticed a wet diaper lying in the middle of the floor at some point. We'll just ignore what this says about me: that she thought it was perfectly plausible for me to come down the steps, change the diaper, and then leave it lying there, open, while I gadded about the house. I'm not sure how long Lucy was enjoying the luxury of a fresh breeze blowing under her nightgown, but I'm fairly confident that we caught her at just the right moment. (Well, to be precise, we caught her right after what could have been the right moment, but before what could have been the very, very bad moment.) I scoured the area she was in, and found no......suspicious fingerprints or, ahem, schmears of any kind, so that was a relief.

Still, though, I don't want to ever have to go through that again. Ever. And I'd prefer not to talk about this - the scars are so deep, so deep. It is going to take a long time to mend. I'm thinking I'll finally be healed in eighteen or so years........about the time that Lucy starts bringing boys around. Heh. Payback is a.......well, it's not sugar and spice.

Beth loves her new cousin

The first time we took the girls to see baby Gabriel, Beth got to hold him first. He stayed quiet while she held him, but then got a little fussy as he was passed around to the other girls. Beth took to innocently musing - out loud, whenever her sisters were near, "I wonder why Gabriel cried with everybody but me? Hmmm."

This has been driving Katie nuts. To make it worse, the second time we went to see the baby he began by being fussy....until it was Beth's turn to hold him. He immediately stopped crying and just looked up at her calmly.

He has made a friend for life. This is especially galling to Katie, because she considers herself to be "excellent with babies, just like the baby-kissing Pope." (That would be the nickname JPII has around here.) Beth, not one to miss an opportunity to get on Katie's nerves, has been taking full advantage of this situation.

So, I laughed when this paper came home in Beth's folder. Katie heard me laughing, and came to look at it. Her response? A haughty, "She spelled his name wrong."

Abbie leaves me speechless yet again

Maybe all this religious talk is an indication that she has a vocation to the religious life? Or maybe it's an indication that she is someday going to start some kind of scary cult. I wish I knew.

Claire asked me if she could sit on the stools at the counter for lunch. I thought about it for half a second but knowing that Abbie, who still lacks enough balance and coordination to sit unassisted on a high stool safely, would insist on climbing up there as well, I said, "no."

"Come on, Mom!" said Claire, "It's not a big deal!"
"Yeah!" Abbie chimed in, "It's not like when Jesus was stuck in a tree!"

Well, if by "tree" she meant "cross" - and I'm really hoping here that she did, then I guess she has a point. It's kind of hard to top crucifying God when you are classifying what is and is not a "big deal." Still, though, they sat at the regular table.

Happy Mother's Day

It's hard not to have a great day when you are told that you are like a sunflower in the garden!

An apple a day...

Lucy has developed a weird habit for a baby: eating whole apples. And when I say that, I don't just mean that she eats it unsliced - I mean she eats the entire thing, core included.


Photo proof:

Before
After

I love found objects around here

Katie has been playing a super-involved game during recess this year. They are playing school, and she originally began as a teacher. She took this role so seriously that before leaving for Disney World she appointed a substitute and gave her a curriculum to follow throughout the week.

Well, she has since been promoted to Principle, but I suspect that things are not going well. Here is what I found in the basement yesterday:

Dear School,

I herby say that things are going so wrong and I'm very dissapointed so I say that I will need to stay longer weather you like it or not.

President Katie

Why didn't I take that Scott Hahn course in college? Why???

We had another disturbing theological discussion in the car the other day. These are becoming more and more frequent as Claire and Abbie, for reasons unknown, have become increasingly curious about the workings of God.

For instance, Abbie was insisting that Jesus could fly. God can do whatever He wants, right? Well, then, of course He wanted to fly. She then began to play super-heroes with Claire, with Claire playing the Green Latern (the current fave) and Abbie playing......Flying Jesus.

Sigh.

So back to the car. We were driving along happily when Abbie began explaining how she knows that God loves her. He gave her a nice mommy and daddy. Good one, Abbie. He lets her have enough food to eat. Yes, that's true. Also, God made it so that she can now swallow her throw-up.

Uh....what?

Yup, Abbie used to throw up sometimes but now she can just swallow that throw-up down. God made her do that! Because He loves her! At first I was alarmed - was Abbie about to puke in the car? She assured me that she wasn't, though. She had just been thinking. About the relationship between vomit and God.

Sometimes these kids are so crazy that it actually scares me. Am I raising a bunch of pychopaths here? What do you say to something like this??? In this case, I sputtered a bit and then just muttered in defeat, "Uh, yeah...well, God certainly loves you, I know that for sure."

Here's hoping He loves me enough to ramp up the old brainpower as time goes on (and these comments become increasingly hard to handle!)

Oh, baby!

Dante and Becky welcomed their first little one into the world late Monday night!

It does my heart more good than I can say to see these two so joyful with their son.

We here are just walking on clouds with happiness - We're so glad to finally meet Gabriel! And how fun that he's a boy! Beth said it best, as she so often does, when we told her the news Tuesday morning, "With all the girl power around here, I'm just shocked that it's actually a boy!"

It's a boy! Congratulations to the new parents, two of the coolest people I know.

This is even better than lilacs. :)

Chesterton and lilacs

I can't help but mention the lilacs again. I'm not by nature an exuberant kind of person, but I have been unreasonably, deliriously joyful these days and it is all due to the lilacs. They are so beautiful, and smell so much like heaven that I feel I can barely even stand it. They make everything good, if you can understand. Or maybe it's that they help me to feel the goodness that is already in everything, but often overlooked. In any case, all the sweet things in life are lately much, much sweeter.

My cousin Margie stopped by overnight, on her way to Ohio to see her family. It was great to see her - for one thing, I haven't had the chance to really talk to her in over 10 years, and she has two adorable kids I needed to get to know! For another thing, she has been living in Germany and she brought Milka! For anyone who has ever had Milka, no more needs to be said.

So between the lilacs and the family and the Milka, it's been a great morning.

After Margie left, I sat down to feed Lucy and flip through Gilbert Magazine while I drank my coffee. The coffee was better than usual, Lucy was cuter than she has ever been, and the magazine, while always great, was a delight. The subscription was a gift from my mom, and when I read this quote I laughed out loud. I've been devoted to CS Lewis for as long as I can remember, but I never knew much about Chesterton (other than that he wrote the Fr. Dowling mysteries, and I'm not a huge fan of mysteries.) Well, I'm finding myself succumbing to the charm of this man the more I read of him. He like a prior version of CS Lewis, only with more beer and impishness (and maybe a smidge more common sense, although I'm not really the one who could judge that.) So, here's my new favorite quote. Mom, I am sorry, but you have nobody but yourself to blame!

Nothing has contributed more to the impiety and inhumanity of our time than the exaggerated cult of cleanliness. The Pharisees had it; in the beginning they worshipped washing; and in the end they set about the slaying of God. GK Chesterton

It's comforting to know that I am not in danger of becoming a Pharisee!

It's spring!

Today was gearing up to just be......one of those days. I actually got almost 8 hours of sleep last night, but I still woke up feeling like I was trying to move underwater. Lucy dumped a bowl of soggy cereal (and lots of milk) all over herself and onto the floor. Later on, after bathing a milk-soaked Lucy, I discovered a tick on Abbie while rinsing her hair. After removing the tick (matches didn't work, but slathering the icky thing with Aloe made it retreat, thank goodness), re-washing Abbie's hair, getting everyone dressed and starting lunch, Abbie had a potty emergency and ended up wetting herself.......and me, as I crouched beside her pulling down her pants.



Just one of those days. But today it hardly mattered at all, because of this:

The lilacs have bloomed! I've opened all the windows, and the perfume from the lilacs has filled the entire house making it impossible to be grouchy, even when I'm soaked in toddler urine.

I had also been planning to post something about how these trees have impacted my appreciation of the Creator:

I have so many posts back-logged, though, that I don't think I'll get around to it. But they erupted into gorgeous white blooms the second the weather turned warmer, and later on they will sprout green leaves (they are already turning) and by early summer they will just look like standard trees. I've never before realized that there were trees that would blossom........for no reason. There is no fruit or anything, it's just a burst of beauty for no reason at all.

Let the field be joyful, and all that is therein: then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice Before the LORD: for he cometh...

Lucy is one! How did that happen?

Lucy was grateful for her presents, but she says that what she really wanted was a little cousin for her birthday. Looking at the time stamp, I see there's still an hour and a half to make it happen; here's hoping! :)

(And yes, by the way. This really was the best picture I could get of this little gorp.)

Mulch

Our plans for the weekend just arrived.

Next weekend is probably booked, too.

I can't wait until the slave labor we've been cultivating finally matures enough to help out with this kind of stuff!

I'm not ashamed to shill for these people!

Coming soon to a Rite Aid or Costco near you! (That is, if you happen to live in the DC/VA area.)

If I had realized that they were going to just copy the synopsis of our story that I thought was just for filing purposes, I would have spent more time making it sound better.

In any case, if you happen to see this around then #1 - let me know! and #2 - drop a dollar in the cup. This hospital is doing good stuff.

p.s. Chris says that if he knew they were going to use this picture, he would have cut the grass!

My very favorite school paper by Beth so far

When I am 100

When I am 100 I will have white haire. I will have alot of rinckules. I will have a wheel chaire maybe. I will be in a retirede home. I might play hide and seek. I hope I will see my grand children alot. Wene my grand children come I will let them have ice cream and maybe crackers.

Elizabeth Mlinek

Happy Easter!

Lucy

loves bananas.

Seriously. She loves them.

All About Bejabbers

Abbers Bejabbers, that is.

Before going into Pittsburgh, Abbie had her bi-monthly (or so) MRI. They knew that we were leaving town, so the oncologists graciously took the extra time to look over the scans while Chris and Abbie were still there, so that we wouldn't have to spend the weekend worrying about the results. No tumor growth! More of that "unremarkable" wonderfulness. :)

We were worried that her hand strength had declined veeeeeeeeery slightly, so the wait for this scan was more nerve-racking than usual, but it's looking like the apparent weakening is mostly due to Abbie being a lazy 3 year old who sometimes just doesn't want to pull up her own underwear. She was a champ at the hospital, though. As always. It's like she read all those articles about the stereotypical brave/plucky/saintly cancer kids and decided to make that her MO. She follows instructions exactly, never complains (even when it involves needles), and keeps smiling and laughing throughout. She even, when offered a stuffed animal, politely declined, telling the nurse that she has enough toys right now, thank you. (Granted, Abbie had a point. I could literally fill a walk-in closet with all the stuffed animals and various other toys this kid has been showered with at hospitals. People see that little cloud of golden hair and are immediately compelled to lay offerings of teddy bears and baby bunnies at her feet.)

I'm proud of this kid. And, too, I am so grateful for this time we have with her. She just gets sweeter, and funnier - so much funnier! - with every day. She is just the quirkiest little thing, and I am often awed by the privilege I've been given to be her mother.

I recently bought some pomegranate-scented hand soap for my bathroom, and for some reason Abbie is just in love with it. She generally uses the hall bathroom, but several times a day I will see in my peripheral vision a streak of naked toddler coming out of the bathroom, and hear a distinctive little hee hee hee giggle. It's just Abbie, "sneaking" into my room to get a shot of the smelly-soap. Once her hands have been washed (and her pants put back on, without help if she is feeling like a big girl, with help if she's in a hurry) she'll invariable make me smell the faint traces of pomegranate, and smile up at me, waiting to hear how beautiful she smells. And I tell her that she smells beautiful. I say it every time. And I thank God for this miracle, that my little girl is here, and healthy, and obsessed with smelly soap.

Happy St Patty's Day!

Last weekend we went to one of my favorite events in the world: the Pittsburgh St. Patrick's Day Parade! There are certainly fancier parades to be had, but in my mind you just can't beat a day spent watching dozens of mediocre high school marching bands, random groups of who-knows-who marching for who-knows-why, some of them wearing medieval garb, some of them wearing comfy sweats, some of them wearing chicken costumes.

I freaking loved it.

It was the day before my mom's 60th birthday (Happy Bday, Mom!) and thanks to Uncle Mike and his family, and Rach, we managed to surprise her on the way to the parade. The day began in the premium spots secured by Bobby and Margaret, drinking coffee spiked with Bailey's, and ended with a party at Uncle Mike's, drinking coffee spiked with Bailey's. Perfect.

I'm editing heavily here, partly because it's not possible to describe the awesomeness that is the Pgh St. Patty's Day Parade, partly because it's not possible to describe how happy and amused and heartsick I felt to spend an entire day with my family, something I haven't done in a long while. You guys will never totally know how much I love all of you, and how much the craziness that is the Chesters is a fundamental part of me. I might not join in on the most outlandish events (for instance, I kept my pants dry - and, ahem, on- all day) but I love you, too, for the rambunctiousness I've always envied in some (who am I kidding? most) of you. I really didn't need to see those pictures of Uncle Bob without his pants, though.

Anyway, here's a picture that I think sums up what I love best about Pittsburgh, and my family.

Thanks for a great weekend, everyone! And Happy Birthday Mom! I love you.


My favorite Irish cop (and Uncle Ron.)

I'd love to see a trained theologian tackle questions like these on a daily basis

We were listening to Gorecki's Miserere this afternoon, which led into a discussion about Christ's Passion.

"I know why Jesus was killed!" proclaimed Abbie. I asked her why.
"Because Jesus killed that other guy!" she confidently told me.
"Who?" I asked, trying to buy myself some time.
Abbie rolled her eyes at me and squinched up her face in that way that only she can do, "You know, that other guy."

I can't figure out who she means by "that other guy." It's all so very vague and toddler-ish. I think she may mean Lazarus, and I can kind of see why she thinks that, but I can't be sure. In any case, I tried very hard to assure her that Jesus never murdered anybody. Claire tried to help me.

"Jesus was nice!" she told Abbie. "It would not be good if Jesus was mean."
Abbie and I both agreed that it would indeed not be good.
"If Jesus was mean we would be in trouble!" said Claire.
"Yeah!" said Abbie, "Then he would kill that other guy!"


Later on, same day, Abbie suddenly yelled out, "God can hear everything we say! I know why He can - it's because God gots ears. He gots ears. Big ears! That's why He can hear me."

I told Abbie that God can indeed hear everything she says, but that He can also hear what is in her heart and mind.
"God doesn't just hear you like regular people - He can still hear you just fine even if you only talk to him in your mind."
She considered this a minute and then said, "Sure! But God still has ears!"

I am not going to tell her that God is not exactly some big Dumbo in the sky. I'm just going to hope that this one works itself out over time. But I can't help but wonder when we have these kind of discussions how in the world kids can up with such impossibly complex questions and misunderstandings. You can never be sure how well you really understand things like the mystery of the Eucharist until you try to explain it to your 5 year old, and realize how stupid you sound, and just how little you actually know. Kids are an amazing source of humility that way, although they are also an amazing source of insight as well.

Claire said, "It would not be good if Jesus was mean!" And she was totally right, in a crazy-profound way. It's pretty easy to take for granted the idea that God is good. What if He wasn't? What if He was mean? It shocked me how clearly Claire could see this : Jesus has to be good. Nothing - nothing in the whole world - makes sense if He isn't.

a letter to Beth from our neighbor

Dear Elizabeth you are my seckint best friend in the warld that I know. I like to play cats with you and Taylor. I hope you do to I like siting with you. I like you so much. I like working next to you You are nice to me. And I am nice to you. And that is how we get ulong. We both like each athar.

This letter cracks me up! It's not only adorable, it highlights what a sweet and selfless kid Beth is: it never occured to her that it was anything other than an honor to be Sabrina's "seckint best friend."

Katie's School Paper on New Year's Eve or How My Children Are Determined To Make Us Look As Bad As Possible In Public

Compare and contrast your New Year's Eve traditions with those in the story.

(I've put Katie's answer in descending order for maximum impact.)

My New Year's Eve Tradition

3. I stay up late
2. I stay home
1. I drink!


I asked Katie why in the world she wrote, "I drink!" She explained that she gets to drink all the pop she wants, and that it is her favorite part of New Years. She claims that she's never heard of adults referring to imbibing too much alcohol as "drinking." She claims that she figured her teacher would know that she meant, "I drink orange soda," and so she didn't feel the need to elaborate.

The fact is, though, that I drink=I like pop is self evident to nobody but Katie. I can only guess what her teacher must think.

In the car this morning

Abbie, to me: The stench in the air is what makes my breath so stinky!

Yes, she really did say, "stench."

My gift to you (sort of)

I believe that podcasts are one of the greatest gifts God has given to housewives (aside from grace, and children and that kind of stuff.) You can listen to them on headphones (so you can actually listen to them, because your children aren't trying to scream over the radio. They are talking in an excessively loud voice, but nothing unusual, and the younger ones still don't understand that the slight movement of your finger is you turning the volume way up to drown them out. Also, you don't have to worry so much about the content of your podcast. I once forgot myself and listened in the car to an entire interview on NPR with the creator of The Wire. Never again. The questions Claire spent the next three days asking me were way over my pay grade.)

Another benefit to podcasts are that they make cleaning fun! A dirty bathroom all by itself is a horror, but combine an amusing little show on headphones with a DVD of Bear in the Big Blue House for the kids, and you have an hour of actual enjoyment. The fact that it ends with a toilet that doesn't make you gag just seems like a bonus!

Finally, podcasts are (for the most part) free! A little sprinkling of fun, a dab of actual...you know, smart-making stuff, the headphones for privacy and peace.....and it doesn't cost a dime!

My only problem is that I burn through my favorite podcasts at an alarming rate. I was seriously bereaved when Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) cancelled his radio show - that was an hour of podcast a day that I could count on being amusing and sometimes even, um, you know....smart-making. I have discovered something that has just blown me away, though, and I feel the need to share. Dr.Peter Kreeft has a podcast!

I have a couple of his books, but I've never actually read them. His name vaguely makes me think of Kraft, and any association with mac and cheese at this point makes me slightly nauseous. I found his article about his daughter's brain tumor very helpful, I think I may have even linked to it from here at the time, but for some reason I never looked into the guy any further.

Well, his talks are a revelation. His podcasts are the recordings of live talks he has given around the country, and he is an excellent speaker. If you are looking for a mental pick-me-up, this is the place to find it. Check it out (you can also find these in itunes by searching for "Kreeft" under "podcasts." Please, you will be so glad you did.

(By the way, this guy is a philosopher. I hesitate to mention it, because I'm sure some people will hear that and think, "Eh." But he's easy to understand - even for a woman who has spent the past 8 years allowing her children to wear mismatched socks. He surfs! He loves CS Lewis and Tolkien! He's a Redsocks fan! Nothing scary here. :)

Insofar as we think about the method, we're not doing it. Insofar as you think about what notes you are playing, you're not playing them. Total self-forgetfulness, total honesty and total love is the most effective apologetic.
Peter Kreeft

Found objects

Discovered laying around the kitchen:

Beth's paper from school
Imagine you are at your best friend's house and he or she won't share a toy with you. Write a letter to try and pursuade him or her to share.

Dear Ehen,
Can I share a toy gun whith you? We could play star wares and pretend to shout bad guys. We could pretend to be in dinisor time and shout dinisores. We could pretend to be in a forest and shout pretend tigers and liones. It could be fun!
Your friend,
Elizabeth

Katie's notes to herself
QS for (her student teacher)
1. Do you have a pet?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you going to become a teacher?
4. Do you have an older sister?
5. Do you have a younger sister?
6. Do you have an older brother?
7. Do you have a younger brother?
8. How many is their in all including you in your family?
9. Do you like teaching?
10. Do you like answering questions?
11. Is their a pacific subject you want to teach?
12. Do you get to grade papers?
13. Do you like telling us what to do?
14. Do you like our class?
15. Do you like reccess?

(These questions, by the way, aren't for a school assignment or anything. Katie just wants to know. She's left plenty of space for more questions should she happen to think up any more. I hope the student teacher is provided with supernatural patience.)

Romance

Happy St. Valentine's Day! We are all sick here, so we kept things pretty low-key. I made chocolate-filled pastries for breakfast (which the kids hated) and a flourless chocolate-hazelnut cake with coffee ice cream for dessert (which the kids hated), and Chris whipped up some perfectly cooked delmonico steaks with a rosemary wine sauce for dinner (which the kids hated), so I would say that V-day around here was a success.

Claire began the day by inventing a song that has stuck in my head all. day. long. The lyrics are (frighteningly) as follows:
The girlfriends! And the boyfriends!
They love each other!
They love each other, and they marry each other!
Oh the girlfriends and the boyfriends!

Later that afternoon, Chris and I took advantage of a quiet moment to exchange cards. Every year we just write little letters to each other for Valentine's Day, so we both read our cards and then met in the middle of the kitchen to give each other a hug. As I went up on my tiptoes to give my husband a little kiss for Valentine's Day a voice suddenly piped out loudly from the bathroom beside us.
"I'm going to make a poopie!" yelled Abbie.
We paused, then smiled and rolled our eyes at each other before I went up on my tiptoes again.
"It's a big one!" immediately came that distinctive little voice, "Wow, it's pretty stinky in here!"

It was very romantic.

On top of everything else, poor little Lucy is very sick. She hasn't been sleeping well, and the poor thing has just been exhausted and frustrated all day. So here's a parting picture of tired little Lucy, asleep in her highchair just before dinner.

Notice, as well, how I've subtly managed to place that gorgeous flower arrangement in every picture? Chris very much so surprised me with that, as we usually really only do the card thing. (The flower delivery guy was impressed as well, I could tell, since he came to the front door: the door we never use because the path that leads to it was long ago reclaimed by the - muddy- earth, and the wooden steps that connect to it are, besides shedding half of the peeled white paint, warped and sagging, preventing the screen door from latching. So this man, in order to present me with this huge bouquet of flowers, had to stand on those rickety steps while I first had to kick all of the coats into the living room to access the door, and then had to un-do the bungee cord that we've tastefully employed to keep the screen door from flying away. I'm guessing that he was thinking the flower-money would have been better employed on other things, perhaps a bungie cord that doesn't clash with the decor. I was just happy with the flowers, though!)

Here you go, Andy!

Chris had his first cooking class, "knife skills" on Monday but he had to miss it. It was really a shame.

He missed the class because he sliced off the top of his finger while chopping herbs.

And actually, the herbs aren't supposed to be chopped at all - lightly pinching the stem and running your fingers down it cause the thyme to simply fall off in perfect little flakes.

So, it was a real shame that he missed that class.

The jury (me) is still out on whether he needs to go see a doctor or not. The top of the finger wasn't technically severed; it is still hanging on by a thread, like Nearly Headless Nick's neck. Part of his nail came off, but it is still attached to the flap of rogue skin hanging off of his finger, and that seems.....uh, not ideal, in my opinion. The attendant at the gas station claims that Chris doesn't need to see no stinkin' doctor, though, so what do I know.

In any case, his brother naturally wants to see the wound. Every single picture I took is fuzzy, for some reason, but it gives you the general idea. Hope you're impressed, Andy. As to everyone else, you might want to avert your eyes.

There is charisma, and then there is scary, sold-your-soul, mesmerizing charisma. You decide.

Beth loves words. She loves learning what big words mean, and integrating them into her vocabulary. She also just loves the way some words sound, and she'll often repeat new words to herself over and over as she is doing chores, just for the pure joy the sound makes.

Yesterday, as she was doing her homework she began to repeat something over and over. "Barack Obama," she said. "Barack Obama. Barackobama. Barackobama."

"Where did you hear that?" I asked her.

"On the news. I think it's the name of some guy. Is he the new president?"

No, I told her, he isn't. At least not yet. Beth lost interest and went back to her homework, until a few minutes later I heard it again. She couldn't help herself.

"Barack Obama," she said as she scribbled the answer to a math question, "Barack Obama. Barackobama."

She likes what she sees

Abbie, to her reflection in the mirror:

You are golden!

I am golden!

I love you, golden girl!

She then blew herself a kiss and wandered away.

There really is such a thing as too much self-esteem.

It's all over, baby

Lucy is officially walking.

She is nine months old.

Heaven help us.

Outside of the Castle of Miracles

Outside of the Castle of Miracles
Originally uploaded by moleshollow

Let's see if I've done this right.

If I have, these pictures should show you where we have been for the past week! Look for a huge old post soon detailing how wonderful the trip was, and in particular how wonderful both the Make a Wish Foundation and Give Kids the World Village are!!!!

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Time for a break

Things have been kind of crazy around here lately, so I think I'm going to take a break from the blog for a while. Check back in a month or two, hopefully I'll be back in form by then.

And I know it needs to be said: No, I am not pregnant. :)

trying to wink

Sometimes I can forget that she is still such a little girl!

On the way to school this morning, Katie and I had the following exchange:

Katie: There is something that I have been keeping secret, but I think I should tell you.
Me: (trying very hard to keep my voice neutral) Okay....
Katie: I don't want my friends to know this.
Me: Well, I can promise to not tell your friends, of course.
Katie: Okay. Well....(in a whisper) I think I can breathe underwater.

The healing power of Rock-n-Roll

Yesterday was a crappy day. I'll spare you the gory details, but it began with a roaring fight about a baby Panda bear at 7am, and slouched to a close with a defective diaper and a shirt, pants and socks (mine) drenched in urine at a public event.

Once the girls were in bed, however, and I dragged myself down the steps to exchange a few words with my husband (responsible for all of this, in a sense, because half of the genes that went into creating these little monsters came from him!) everything turned around.

Why? Because of this:




It is the best video game ever made!!! Anything that can take a tired, ragged housewife who faintly smells like baby pee and turn her into a Rock god is on the side of the Angels, if you ask me. I have no talent when it comes to videogames, and I bring Chris' scores down because I can't move out of the "easy" mode, but.......when the crowd starts singing along to the music I really, truly feel like I am making -- I am invincible.

The view from my room

This is my constant scenery these days: Lucy hanging on to my leg. She is really under the impression that baby-hood is for suckers, and she's determined to claw her way out of it as quickly as possible. She started crawling around 5 months, then quickly began to pull up on things. At 6 months old, she can already cruise all around the house, provided there is something to hold on to. Her favorite pass time is to seek me out, and then prevent me from moving anywhere by pulling up on my leg and then refusing to let go.

All of this precocity, however, comes with a price. Lucy's life is in constant danger, because my brain cannot keep up with her physical acumen. She fell down the steps three weeks ago because I misjudged how quickly she could make it from my side to the basement door. Yesterday, she again fell down the steps because it never, ever occurred to me that she could crawl all the way up them.

I was digging around in Katie and Beth's closet when it happened. The girls had all been playing in the living room, but suddenly - as a herd is want to do - they all moved upstairs. They closed the door to the steps, but I guess Lucy felt left out because when Beth opened the door she discovered the little thing almost at the top of the flight. Lucy was startled by the door, however, and she jerked back and fell all the way to the bottom. I heard the scream (both Lucy's and Beth's - who was almost as upset) and I somehow made it to the bottom to scoop Lucy up. I honestly don't know how I got down the steps - it felt like I just jumped down the entire flight, but something tells me that's just the adrenaline muddying my memory. My heart can't take much more of this, though, and I am pretty sure that Lucy's head really ought not take much more. So, back in the kitchen it is, acting as a human crutch for my baby who so desperately wants to learn how to walk. At least I know she's not in mortal peril when she's hanging onto my leg.

Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland

It is snowing today! Chris got a good crackling fire going around noon, Claire and Abbie and Lucy spent over an hour staring out of the windows just watching the snow falling, and Beth's teacher reprimanded me for not putting her in boots. * Winter has officially arrived!

The girls came up with an awesome game outside: they made complex mazes out of their footprints in the snow, and we spent a good long time trying to find our way out of them. I thought my maze was pretty cool - it took me a good 20 minutes to make it, and it wound all the way around our yard, but the girls told me that it was too easy. I will get my revenge the next time it snows.

*(Come on! Who needs to go through the hassle of boots in order to walk two feet from the door to the car, and another 10 feet on - shovelled!!-cement from the car to the school door. Her feet don't get wet. She hardly even needs a coat, she spends so little time in the actual outdoors.)