DISHWASHER RESSURECTION!!!!!

Cue the choirs of angels and rays of light from heaven!

My dishes will be cleaned tonight while I sleep, without the girls and I having to do a thing to them. And I will feel better in the morning about the level of germiness in Lucy's bottle.

And this was all accomplished without the need to make any purchases at all. Just a man with a bag full of......magic things, I guess.

I have the best Father-in-law in the world! Thank you!

Crazy Abbie in public

We took the girls to the Science Center today, in honor of Claire's birthday. We had a great time, but as always happens we hit a point where suddenly all five girls needed to get to the bathroom immediately.

So we all file in, and although Abbie was the first one in a stall she was the last to come out. As we were standing against the wall of the fairly crowded bathroom, waiting, the sound of singing began to come from one of the stalls. It was Abbie, and this is what she was singing:

Dear Father, I write you
in spite of years of silence
You've cleaned up, found Jesus
Things are good or so I've heard
This bottle of Stevens awakens ancient feelings
Like father, stepfather, the son is drowning in the flood!!

Yeah, Abbie was singing some Weezer in the public bathroom. I don't know whether I should be ashamed of what bad parents we are, that we let her listen to stuff like that, or if I should be proud that my kids clearly know good music from garbage.

In any case, the people in the bathroom enjoyed the show.

Dishwasher Armageddon, Day 6

This is what my sink looks like by 7pm every night:

We? Are awesome!

Dishwasher Armageddon, Day 5

When I first had to tackle the dirty contents of our broken dishwasher, I experienced a moment of true despair. I actually procrastinated a full day before finally plunging my hands in.

We're on day 4 of the Armageddon, though, and the truth is....it's not all that bad.

I've found that it is best to just keep one half of the sink full of hot soapy water, and wash everything immediately. I am probably still spending a huge amount of time bending over the sink, but because it is in such small increments over the course of the day, it doesn't feel that way. The surprising thing too is that the kitchen has actually been staying more tidy, because I'm not leaving anything "for later."

I had planned on escalating the melodrama as the Armageddon continues, and I still might just because I think it is funny. If I'm completely honest, though, I have to admit.......

Now, don't repeat this, okay? Lean in close, I don't want to say this too loud, but....

I think I can live like this. I actually don't mind it all that much.

Is there something wrong with me? Is this normal? I guess if it is instigating a cleaner kitchen I should just accept it and not look too deep into the reasons why. But don't tell anyone I said so.

Abbie, still crazy

We let the girls stay up late last night, and we all watched the auditions on American Idol together. When it was time for bed, Chris told the girls, who had strewn their various toys and blankets all over the basement, "pack it up and head upstairs!"

Abbie looked over at him and said, "Why? Are we going to Hollywood?"

A birthday for Larry

Happy birthday to the most enthusiastic kid going!

Despite the fact that Claire's favorite food has consistently been the kid-standard pizza, nuggets and mac and cheese, the birthday girl insisted that for her dinner she wanted.....salmon and corn. Now, salmon is an actual, honest-to-goodness favorite of one of our kids....but it isn't Claire's. She genuinely likes some "grown-up" foods, like sushi and shrimp, but she refused to even consider those; it just had to be salmon and corn, of all random things.

Sometimes this kid just weirds out, and I have no idea how to handle it.

So, after a very stressful afternoon, Chris came home and whipped up some salmon for Claire (Chris is the fish pro around here, another reason we tried to convince Claire to pick something else, something I could cook without screwing up.) Claire, of course, only ended up eating about three bites. As we knew she would, because she doesn't really like salmon.

Luckily she picked a birthday dessert that she actually wanted, so that she didn't end her birthday with an empty stomach. She still has occasional texture issues, so it was just a huge old ice-cream sundae for her. We made cupcakes for her kindergarten class, but she didn't want any cake at home. Given the fact that she's still just as likely to puke up cake as not, I think it was for the best.

So, happy birthday little one! You keep me on my toes, but I wouldn't have it any other way!

Dishwasher Armageddon, Day 3

Claire claims that even though it is her birthday, she still wants to help clean the dishes tonight!

We'll see!

Dishwasher Armageddon, Day 2.5

I am recording this for legal purposes. This is a direct quote from the girls," Washing dishes is fun! I hope we get to do this every night!"

Let's see how that fares a few more days into the Armageddon.

Meanwhile, while the rest of the family was gainfully employed, what do you think Lucy was doing?

Don't congratulate me yet for having it easy....

Lucy decided to re-enact that scene from Mary Poppins....you know, the one where the kids gets completely filthy and spend some time rolling around in soot.

The good news is that the cheap-o vacuum we bought to replace our broken one works pretty well.

Chris thinks that it was a bad idea to take these pictures. He says that I am just encouraging Lucy to grow into more of a monster. But when you're living room is covered (and I mean covered - these pictures do no real justice) in soot you have two options: kill the kid, or laugh.

So out came the camera. And Lucy survives to dominate another day.

Dishwasher Armageddon, Day 2

My Dearest Maw,

It is cold here. The snow is falling thick and fast outside, and there is little movement in the road. We have a cheerful fire roaring in the living room, but I cain' leave my post. In times like these, what does a woman have if she has not her honor? And so at the sink I remain. There is some warmth in the sudsy waters, and for this I am thankful. I will take my blessings where 'ere they come, and pray to the Almighty that these hostilities may soon cease. I think of you often, and remember with longing the days when my fingers where not quite so raw, nor the terrible piles of dishes so high.

Give my love to Sister.
I remain,
Faithfully,
Rebecca Elizabeth

check out my poll on the right!

Be sure to vote before I have the chain fully forged!

Only Lucy

How messed up is it when you have to haul your kid out of mass because she won't stop screaming.....

..."I want Jesus!"

A girl and her dog

This picture is old now, taken last summer. One of the subjects has grown a bit and one has grown a shocking amount since then, but I think this picture best sums up the relationship between Lucy and her beloved sibling, Jasper the dog. Notice how happy they both are: Lucy as she torments Jasper, Jasper as he hopes to score something good. They are a match made in heaven.

About a week ago I ushered the girls, who had been playing in their rooms, to the basement so that I could put Lucy down for a nap. This is a more chaotic transition than you might imagine, because it involves getting them all through the kitchen - past a baby gate and through a door while trying to keep the frantic dog from escaping. So there was, as there always is, lots of yelling and toppling over and mob-type frenzies. Once the girls had been successfully relocated, though, I realized that Lucy had escaped (as I thought) into the basement. And then - crap! - I noticed that the dog was missing.

I ran upstairs first, thinking that the dog might have pushed past the girls unnoticed while they filed by the gate. The top floor was dead silent, though, so I didn't bother checking it much. The one thing I can count on is Jasper causing a ruckus any time he manages to get to some part of the house that has lots of forbidden things to chew. I ran down to the basement, but the girls hadn't seen him there, so I checked the unfinished section. He wasn't there. At this point, I was getting concerned- there are only so many places a dog can go, and I was running out of ideas. I checked outside, although I knew he hadn't been let out. I re-checked the top floor, looking into every room and even the closets. He wasn't there.

I came back down to the kitchen, looking again under the table and behind the chairs, knowing he wasn't there. The house felt eerie and quiet without his dog-noises in the background. The girls were helping now, too, their eyes big and beginning to fill with tears. We were starting to worry that he had escaped outside somehow, and the busy road outside makes that a much bigger problem than it might sound like.

I stood in the kitchen and surveyed the adjoining hallway, all the doors tightly shut as they always are to keep the dog from chewing up the blankets, the clothes, the rugs.....our dog really likes to chew. The girls were all gathered around me, concerned, but I wasn't paying them much attention. I was worried about the dog. I began to look into the closed rooms, not expecting anything but at a loss for what else to do. The guestroom was empty and quiet. The bathroom was, too. I looked into my bedroom, and it was also empty. But as I was about to close the door I heard a dull thump, and it made me pause for a second. I went past the bed and opened the door to the bathroom.

Standing square in the middle of the room was none other than Lucy, with her arm draped casually around Jasper's neck as he tore into a roll of toilet paper. She looked up at me and grinned and then said, breezily as you please, "Hi!" Opening doors is a brand-new trick of hers, and it appears that while I was occupied with the older girls she had quietly opened the door to my room and lured Jasper through into the bathroom. What seems incredible to me now is that my first thought was not to check on the whereabouts of Lucy, and assuming from the get-go that she was the culprit. Where else would Jasper be but at the side of his favorite companion, hoping for food or at the very least a chance to get to some forbidden treat?

I am going to be catching up on posts today....

...because yesterday my dishwasher broke. We've been under some funny kind of cloud the past few months: our computer died, then my laptop died (although that's what I'm on now, it suddenly resurrected out of the blue- about a week after we took the plunge and bought a new computer, of course), our microwave died, Chris' car broke down, his phone went dead, the mailbox door fell off, the fence in front of our house blew down, the Xbox blew up, the vacuum stopped sucking (or started sucking, depending on how you look at it,) our regular phone only works in three minute increments before needed to be recharged now, and my cell phone is acting very wonky. We can't fix any of this, either, because...well, because sometimes God likes to show you that it is possible to live much more simply than you're used to.

The dishwasher, though! *sob*

So I'm going to spend some time here, studiously ignoring the fact that my life is about to revolve around my kitchen sink, and the greasy things therein. And while I procrastinate, I am going to be saying to myself, over and over again, "People survived for thousands of years even though they had to wash all their dishes by hand. A dishwasher is not a necessity for life. Really. It can be done. It can be done. It can be done."

Dilemma

What to do when you are a native of Pittsburgh, living in Baltimore and married to an obsessive Ravens' fan?

The thing is, I watch football because my husband watches football. Growing up, in a house that was absolutely dominated by estrogen, I almost never laid eyes on a game. I have a vague memory of watching a Superbowl with my parents, where I was very excited to be allowed to eat dinner in the basement. Later in life, my stepfather would watch the games.......alone, and we would laugh whenever we'd hear him yelling at the t.v. I think I maybe watched a game at my aunt's house occasionally, but the truth is that I was there more for the food and company than anything else. I am a Pittsburgher, though, and the combination of black and gold never fails to stir something deep in my heart.

Now, though, in order to avoid becoming a football widow, I watch it all. the. time. I know the names of a few players on every single team, and I long ago committed to memory the fact that scoring is called a "touchdown", not a "goal," or a "hey, they got some points - how many points is a whatcha'ma callit, again?" I listen to PTI and SportsCenter, and know what to expect from those guys. (Mostly predictions that are almost always wrong, but why should that stop anybody from tuning in to their t.v. shows, radio programs and magazine columns to catch every precious - and almost always wrong- word that comes out of their constantly running mouths?) Chris cares deeply about football. Deeply. And because I love him, I care a little bit now, too. Granted, back in the day, I couldn't see why he was so elated to discover that football player who lived almost-next to us, but now I can think back and say, "Wow! Ed Reed was our neighbor! Pretty cool!"

All that is to say - when the stakes are high and the Steelers are playing the Ravens, who do I root for? Well, what sort of choice do I have, really? The biggest football nut that I've ever known happens to be married to me, happens to be the love of my life, and happens to be my best friend. I root for the Ravens. But the Pittsburgher in me (and there are some places that leave its mark in your soul, no matter where you go or what you do: Pittsburgh is without question one of those places) is sad that I have to make a choice.

So, now that the game is decided and it's all over: Go Steelers! And looking at the above picture made me homesick for the days when I would have been there, wearing something black and gold and munching on chips while laughing at whatever jokes were being thrown around. The funny thing is, though, that I wouldn't have cared so much about who won then; it's not the team I miss, it's the company.

Hi. Still alive, believe it or not

Our computer died in October. Two long months followed where our only access to the internet consisted of squinting down at Chris' iphone and cursing every five seconds whenever we inevitably hit a rogue link and had to waaaait for the page to load and then waaaait for it to re-load back onto the page we had never wanted to leave in the first place.

Our shiny (more or less) new (well, new to us) computer just arrived, though, and I feel like Moses staring down at the parted red sea. It seems like such a miracle, this whole information superhighway thing. How did we live without this? How am I supposed to find the time to do boring, mundane things like cleaning when I have all this power right at my fingertips. Wow. Hello world! It's good to be back.

It has been so long since the last update that I am just going give a quick review of the past few months:

* Jasper chewed a hole through the wall. Twice. Thanks to my wonderful father in law for coming down (on his birthday, no less) to fix it the first time. I'm very sorry that it didn't last.

* A terrible flu rampaged through the house. Christmas was almost cancelled.

* In the midst of her fever-induced delirium Abbie told Chris that, "The Steelers are evil! They don't like Santa, and they burn down churches where baby Jesus lives." That's a direct quote.

*Lucy has started to talk more coherently. We now know for certain when she wants us to "Go away!" and when she would like a bite of nourishment, please: "Eat!"

* Katie read the kid-version of "Marley and Me" and fell in love with Jasper for about two hours. Then jumped over the couch (which she was sitting on) and she went back to barely tolerating him.

* Beth's two front teeth were slightly wiggly, and she spent a solid week trying to loosen them more before finally insisting that Chris pull them out. After the first tug, as blood began to gush over her chin, he realized that it was really too soon. They had gone too far to stop, though, so Chris basically performed a minor surgery in our living room. Beth was just happy that she could finally sing All I want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth and really mean it.

*One week later, two more of Beth's teeth fell out without warning. She now looks like a 90 year old woman when she smiles.

*Claire came into our room the other night after having a nightmare. She snuck in too quietly, however, and all I heard was a tiny rustle as she stepped over some wrapping paper on the floor. I shot up in my bed and tried to see, but it was too dark. Claire froze. "Who is it?" I cried out, still half asleep, "Is someone there?" There was silence, but you know how you can just tell when someone is there? I woke up all the way, and called out again, "Is someone in here?" There was not a sound - not a single sound - but then suddenly a hand grabbed my arm.

I screamed. It was dark, and I was half asleep, and I was freaked out, okay. I know it's still pathetic, but.....I screamed. And then Claire screamed and burst into tears. You know all those horror movies with creepy kids sneaking around all over the place? That is just my everyday life around here.

I think that's enough for now. I'll put up some pictures later. Maybe. If I can figure out how to get to them (on my laptop, which is broken and can't connect to the internet) from here.

Katie brought her school journal home today

Here are my two favorite entries. This kid is the sweetest!

A role model for me is my Dad. My Dad is my role model because when I'm confused he shows me tricks to help me understand what I'm confused about. When I'm stressed and tired and sad my Dad shows me the bright side. Sometimes there is something a really want to accomplish and my Dad helps me get it done like my speech for an example. My Dad is always nice and never lets me feel left out. Dad is always doing nice things for us like I used to hate hamburgers but my Dad never gave up and now I love hamburgers. To me my Dad is the perfect role model.

Another one:

The greatest thing in my life is my family. I think my family is the greatest thing in my life because I can depend on them. My Mom always makes me dinner so I don't starve. My Dad makes sure I'm not confused with what I'm learning in school. My sisters always play with me. My dog (Jasper) makes me feel better just by his looks. I love my family.

Oh Dear.

What in the world am I supposed to do with this?

Oh, and the field trip?

Totally awesome! I think I ran my station fairly well. There was that one time when I screwed the fire up and and had to do my entire presentation while we were all weeping from the smoke, but once the kids and I staggered outside to get some fresh air we all recovered just fine.

What I can't decide is whether my favorite part of the day was when they brought out a gigantic vulture (named Upchuck. Here's some trivia for you: a vulture's first line of defense is to puke on whoever is threatening it.) and then left it hanging out on a branch mere inches from a cluster of rambunctious boys, or if it was when the guy in charge told the kids in my group that they couldn't sit because, "Indians aren't lazy like you!"

I can't wait to do this again in two years, when it is Beth's turn.

Places that really make me...

...long for the day when Lucy will be able to ask for a drink like a civilized person instead of calling all beverages, "juice," mispronouncing it, and so screeching at the top of her lungs, "JEW! JEEWW!!!" until I can plug her mouth shut with a sippy cup:





*Waiting in the exam room of our beloved pediatrician, Dr. Israel.


*The Communion line in Church

*Waiting in the parking lot across the street from the girls' school - which is also the parking lot for a Temple.

*Shopping at places where there are lots of people who dress like this:

One thing is for certain: we will not be visiting the Holocast Museum in DC anytime soon.

Field Trip Queen

Chris suddenly found himself with lots of free time on his hands this September, and I have been taking advantage of that by volunteering for everything possible at the girls' school. I'm making up for lost time over the past two years, when I couldn't really volunteer for anything due to a lack of available babysitters. (This is another great advantage - should Chris suddenly become bereft of his free time, I now have two wonderfully accommodating Grandparents at hand to help out!) Everybody knows that to really know what's going on in school, you have to be there, and it has bugged me to no end when that couldn't happen for me. Well, I'm there now and learning all sorts of interesting things.

This months is extra-intense, though, because I am going on not one, not two, but three field trips. The first was to a local farm with the kindergarten (lots of fun), the third will be to the aquarium with the second grade (I did that before with Katie, and am looking forward to it again with Beth.) The second one is tomorrow, and it is the doozy of the bunch. I'm not going to elaborate any more right now than to say that it is an Indian campground, and it is run by the most awesomely crazy person I've ever met. He's awesome. But truly crazy. I am running the "Legend and Fire" hut, I will be facing the fourth graders armed with puppets....and fire, and let me tell you: this is going to be an experience.

Stay tuned.

Spaghetti with chicken

Is there anything more gratifying than spending over two hours* cooking a dinner tailored specifically to your children's tastes and then watching your three year old hold her nose and gag when you serve it?

Humility: served daily in the Mlinek household.

*It should take 30 minutes. I was only able to do actual prep and cooking in five minute spurts, however, due to milk spills, garbage-dumping, homework emergencies, argument interventions, and toddlers determined to drink out of the dog's bowl. Whenever I make a truly time-intensive dinner I generally have to start it directly after breakfast.

We bring joy into the world

At least that is what I am going to assume, as no less than 4 individuals burst into laughter at the sight of the girls and me navigating hardware stores. We were, perhaps, not exactly in our element. But I'm going to assume those people were all just very joyful.

However, I'm excluding the cashier at WalMart who later literally yelled, "Oh, holy God!" when I affirmed that the girls were, in fact, all mine. That was a first for me, and I wasn't quite sure how to answer her. I think I just gave one of my standard replies, even though it didn't exactly match her remarks. (I said something like, "It's a lot of fun!" Lucy was sick to death of shopping and getting fussy and I was really off my guard: the cashier was going on and on about how terrible it must be, and I just couldn't think of anything better. ) I'm not exactly angry - she was just a stupid teenager running off at the mouth without thinking first - but I do wish it hadn't happened in front of Katie and Beth. They definitely noticed her horrified reaction.

It doesn't usually bother me when people express disapproval of our family size. I think I hit my breaking point somewhere after Claire, and I just don't care anymore. The funny thing is that I get fewer negative comments now, when we have five kids and I don't give a damn what anybody thinks, than I did when I only had three and was kinda sensitive. It did bother me to see the older girls so surprised, though. But only a little. We may be following a different drummer than much of the world, but you know what? I like our tune. It doesn't matter so much when some twit at the register doesn't get it. I was worried that Katie and Beth might be upset, but they weren't at all. They like our tune, too. What's ironic is that I feel like I've been trying to say with my life the exact same thing the cashier was saying. I'm not going to act like I've been successful, but I'm trying. The inflection is totally different, of course, but we're absolutely trying to say the exact same thing: Oh Holy God.

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."