Tooth Fairy Trouble

Here is what happened: Claire's friend just lost her tooth last week, and she proudly showed Claire the little toy the Tooth Fairy brought her. A few days later, Claire also lost a tooth.

The Tooth Fairy has never brought anything other than a dollar around here, and even that cannot be counted on to arrive on time. (We all know how flighty the Tooth Fairy is, right? Sometimes it takes her a couple of days to remember......this is common knowledge - and don't even think about telling my kids otherwise!)

So, Claire thinks about this injustice as she prepares her tooth for its pillow. Then she decides to take action, showing her parents the note below just before bedtime.

I am sure this put the Tooth Fairy in a pickle, because she was not prepared to deposit a toy under Claire's pillow that night. In fact, she was probably not happy about setting a new precedent in regards to tooth compensation. She was also probably completely unsure how to handle this situation.

Luckily, I think she finally hit upon more or less the right note: she gave in to the immediate request, but laid the guilt on thickly to prevent its ever being made again. This was perhaps not the best tactic in the world, but hey! It worked.

Blueberry picking!

Yes, it was hot. Yes, the girls were tired by the end. Yes, it was maybe not a good idea to stay up late for an outdoor performance of "A Midsummer's Night Dream" the night before....But this is becoming a tradition we all love (the ice cream at the end does a lot to help with this, thanks to Grandma Mlinek!) and we now have around 15 pounds of gorgeous, fresh, delicious blueberries to play around with! Jam, pies, cobblers, buckles are all in our future....if the girls don't gobble up all 15 pounds first.

It is too hot to do anything but this...

...so this is all we are doing.

Happy 4th of July!

We had some friends and family over for a little cookout yesterday, and it was a lot of fun! The kids all converged on the pool, the adults lounged (and sweated) on the deck, and then we wrapped it all up with a little fireworks display. It was shorter than the fireworks last year (which went on so long the kids actually got bored) but much more impressive.

Here are some videos - the kickoff, and then later on when the guys were really warmed up.

Cranky musings of a pregnant whiner who does not appreciate nature the way she should

Every hour spent working in the yard confirms to me how much I hate working in the yard.

When we are done, sweaty and tired, itchy and achy, it might help if I felt a sense of accomplishment but I don't. What I feel is a sense of despair, that we will never have enough time, enough money, enough energy, enough willpower, enough know-how to ever transform this potentially beautiful yard from the white trash dumping ground of the dead and dying (except for the prickly weeds, which are flourishing nicely) that it currently is.

Chris and I recently saw a t.v. show where drug smugglers offered to landscape the yard of an elderly lady for free, so that they could secretly grow marijuana in the corner. They did good work, and her yard looked great (aside from the plot of weed - although, to be fair, that also was well-maintained and looked about as nice as a garden of illegal drugs can.) Is it wrong of me to be jealous of this scenario?

Fusion Pilates for Pregnancy, opinionated audience edition

Overheard while trying to follow an exercise video this morning:

"This looks too easy!" "That's because you're not pregnant."

"You look like a doggie, Mommy." *

"Why are you breathing like that?"

"You don't look like the lady on the t.v."

"Why do you always use the wrong side when they say 'left' or 'right'?"

"I can do that! I do that all the time, anyways!"

"Why are you sweating from stretching out?"

"Will I have to do this, too, when I am pregnant?"


*I don't know if that comment was because I was on all fours, or because of the panting.....

Summer In My Eyes

This is Katie, the oldest daughter. I am currently 10, about 4 months until new baby and my 11th birthday. I have finished Elementary (congrats to other family members who have graduated in some way, I will not say names) school on June 17,2010. The ceremony was about 1 hour long!! I enjoyed my last time teasing there, though it's ALWAYS hard to say goodbye. I have (naturally) been having dreams taking place in Middle School. Here's the funny thing, though: In 4th grade, I had a dream where I was at some school but didn't belong there. The kids were all older. This year, though, I visited the same place, but I belonged there (but of course, forgot my book bag) !!! Isn't that ironic? This summer we've worked on the pool, organized the craft room, and cleaned. My friend has been at the beach, and therefore I am slowly crumbling inside. The pool should be ready at the end of the week, there's the 4th of July and fireworks, and summer has only just started. While the girls play Violent polly pockets (burning houses, murders, psycho person), Mom exercises, and Dad changes from his work clothes, I feel contented. Oh, and I got straight As again, but there's summer homework!!! Boy, summer is good.

5 steps to achieve peace (not the political kind, but still nice)

I have discovered the secret to summertime peace and happiness!

Here are the steps, they are very simple but require a decent amount of stamina in the beginning.

1- Make a big, special breakfast and while the children are snarfing it down declare that today is a Cleaning Day.
2- Write detailed, very specific, very long lists for every child - even the ones who can't read.
3- Commence cleaning, circling around every once in a while to point out the things the children have done half-heartedly, and make them do it again.
4- Every time someone claims to be done, inspect the work closely.
5- If it isn't perfect, make them re-do it. If it's okay, give them something else to do.

At the end of this you will have two things: a sparkling house, and complete peace and quiet as the children are all afraid that making eye contact with you might generate more housework.

Ahhhhh.

Sumer Is Icumen In

We have declared today the first official day of summer for our family!

Due to the insane amounts of snow this winter, the girls were in school until Friday. However, the teachers gave up somewhere around the end of May and the weeks left were basically nothing but a collection of parties, picnics, field trips and more parties. Add to that Katie's elementary school graduation (pictures and video will be forthcoming), the yearly birthday-party-a-thon that ensues among Beth's friends, who for some reason were all born within two months of each other, and various other getting-ready-for-summer activities ....and you have one worn out family!

This morning, Katie and I got up early and took a nice long walk. Later on today the girls and I are going to run to the store for milk and then finish organizing our new "craft room." These are the day's activities. We are chilling, man.

Our annual hot weather life of leisure has officially begun! Ahhhhh. As soon as I get around to making lemonade, I'm going to enjoy a nice cold glass of it.

Making the case for having more kids

I wish that there was a way to use an embedded link during actual, face-to-face conversations. It would make responding to people who are clearly puzzled by the size of our family so much easier! I could just say, "Here- read this. We aren't as crazy as we look."

The Breeders' Cup from the WSJ. Read it, there's some cool stuff in there.

Overheard

Katie to Lucy, "Don't pick your nose!"

Lucy to Katie, "I'm not picking, I'm just cleaning it out."

When "suffer the little children" means actual suffering

I like to think of myself, ten years and soon-to-be six kids into motherhood, as a veteran parent. I don't claim to know a whole lot about a whole lot, but I know my kids fairly well and we have finally reached a stage where I have confidence in my role as their mother. This isn't to say that I am never overwhelmed or frustrated or at my wit's end, but at least I have finally realized that I just need to ride the crappy times out, and things will work out. Where my "veteran" status shows, in my opinion, is in public where the girls are almost always mannerly, sweet, calm and collected. Although it used to happen more than I would like to admit, I can't remember the last time I found myself overwhelmed and in tears in a public place.

Actually, I mean the last time before today.

Chris got up early and went to mass alone this morning, as he had stuff to do and the rest of us couldn't go to mass until noon, once we had returned Katie's friend after a sleepover. Taking the kids to mass solo isn't a huge deal anymore. Chris did it all the time when I was working, since I usually had to go to the too-late-for-the-little-girls Saturday evening mass, and he never had a problem.

It just wasn't my day, though. Lucy tripped and fell on her way out the door, and although we had bandaged her bloody knee, she never really recovered. She was whiny and demanding from the get-go at church, and the deck was stacked against us as it was a bilingual mass, which to the girls just means twice as long as usual.

At one point, I hauled her to the back and discussed rather vigorously where her behaviour had gone wrong, and what she needed to do to get things back on track. We seemed to be in agreement, so back into the church we went.....Five minutes later, I was staggering under the weight of her squirming 3 year body as I beat my way to the back again while she screeched at the top of her lungs, "I am really mad at you!"

I had to take her outside, because she was too loud even for the back of church. There we stood, my screaming toddler and I, as my eyes filled with frustrated tears and I felt like I was 3 years old myself.


Lesson learned: there is no such thing as a veteran parent. I may have a better idea of what I am doing now, but all that really means is that I have a dim flashlight as I still grope my way through dark territory. I don't think there is a point at which I will be able to sit back and congratulate myself on having it all figured out. That's probably half of the point of having kids in the first place: you teach them, they teach you. I am finding their "humility and growing patience" curriculum to be pretty effective.

The Before of Biztown

I am Katie,10years old, in 5th grade. There is a field trip that we have . It is called JA Biztown. You have a job and a company. It is like a mini town. There's a mayor, even. The companies are City Hall, Restaurant( Papa Johns), Financial Planning, Tech shop(Best Buy), T.V. Station, Insurance, Bank, Utilities, Newspaper, UPS Delivery & Supply Center, Science Lab, and Radio Station. First, we had to decide what job we wanted. I couldn't decide between radio or newspaper reporter. I decided radio reporter in case my friend got her job. Then we filled out resumes and application sheets. Then, parents came in and we all had an interview! I had a dad, he really liked me. Especailly my sisters. Also, I was his last interview, so he might have remembered me better. Then in 4 days after that(we got interviewed on Friday) we got our result. Almost no one got their first chioce job. I guess that made me feel better, because I got my job!!!!! My friend didn't though, but at least she likes her job. Then we got together with our group( I have the best group ever!!) and had meetings. We made ads and prices . Our name is the Around the World Radio, or A.W. Radio. Our slogan is: Listen! Do you hear that sound? It's our radio station travlin' the whole world round. We go THIS MONDAY, JUNE 7!!! Any questions, please comment. I will say how it was after we go.

The slip and slide was defective....

...but they worked it out! Here's the before and after videos!

disturbing. disgusting. weird.

We've finally found potty-training nirvana.

Lucy hasn't had an accident in almost a week! She is using the bathroom for everything and hardly ever needs reminders to go. She is also using the big potty (hooray!) and doing all the clean up (both her bottom and her hands) on her own.

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!

The only thing is.......... she names her poop. Late last week, as she was cleaning herself off, Lucy looked into the potty and declared to me, "That one looks like Bob!"

"Who is Bob?" I asked.

She pointed to a specific hunk of poop. "That is Bob," she said.

A few days later, as I was toweling her off after her bath, she noticed a piece of construction paper that had been left on the floor, and was covered with wet splotches.

"That one looks just like Bob!" she declared.

"Who is Bob?" I asked again, really curious.

"My poopie," she said.

Today, as she was cleaning up after using the potty, Lucy glanced into the bowl before flushing it. "That one is not Bob," she said.

I have no idea where this is coming from. At first I thought - maybe Bob the Tomato? But, ah, the specimen she specifically said was not Bob was the only one that looked even vaguely tomato-ish. Bob the Builder? We really don't watch that show, though. ( Handy Manny has totally left Bob the B in the dust.) My father's name is Bob....but I'm pretty sure Lucy doesn't even know that.

It is an absolute mystery. A really gross mystery. But intriguing nonetheless. (Maybe that's just me, though.)

It's a girl! (Again!) (Of course!)

My thoughts:

1- Wow!

2- What are the odds? (Actually, pretty good and getting better with each girl that comes down the pike. It just feels like we are beating them. )

3- My Father in Law is an actual, honest-to-goodness prophet!*

4- It makes me sad that so many people are going to assume that we were "going for a boy," and will feel sorry for us. It's never been about that as far as we are concerned. People tend to think that having more than the standard amount of kids is crazy, so I guess they look for things to explain it to themselves in a satisfactory way. They ought to realize that we just happen to embrace the craziness, and feel some things (like having 6 kids in 10 years) are worth doing even though it might be hard.

5- I was not actually scheduled for a sonogram. The doctor, after an agonizingly long time searching for the baby's heartbeat, sent me over to the hospital for an emergency sonogram. When the nurse asked him what the sonogram was for, and I heard him quietly answer "viability," my heart lodged into my throat. During the 45 minutes between realizing that something may have gone horribly wrong, and seeing the baby's gorgeous fluttering heartbeat on the screen, I had nothing but time to reflect on how very, very desperate I was for this baby to be okay. The big news during this sonogram was not "It's a girl!" It was, "She's alive and well!" and nothing else mattered. Nothing.

6- A part of me secretly worried that, should we have a boy, I might lose my identity. That's ridiculous, right? It is. It is. Still, having a family of girls has been such a part of my life for so long that I couldn't help but wonder if I could hack a change this late in the game. I guess I don't need to worry about that right now!

7- I do mourn the potential to name this baby "Zeke," even though we knew that we would be accused of naming the baby after our favorite coffee. Zeke's may make the best coffee in the world, but that has no bearing on the fact that it is also a supercool name! I don't think a girl could pull it off, though, so the name is a moot point.

8- There is a different dynamic between mothers and daughters and mothers and sons. The same goes with fathers - it is just a different ballgame between boys and girls. Do we sometimes wonder what it would be like to experience that different dynamic? Sure. Do we regret that we haven't? No. In case you haven't noticed, we are take-things-as-they-come kind of people. We'll take the largish family, gladly. And we'll take the girls, just as gladly, though we may not have planned for either.


8- This is my nephew after only an hour or so at our house. He is an extremely boyish boy, too! He's always pointing stuff out to my girls for their edification - things like grills, dump trucks and helicopters. They smile politely at him and then look over at me with confused faces. Why would he care about these things? They ask me. I do not know. I do not know.



*I thought that I had posted before about "The Prophecy," but I looking through the archives, I see I haven't. Waaaay back, when Katie was just 8 months old and we had just discovered that I was pregnant again, Chris's Dad had an extremely vivid dream in which we had 6 girls. We laughed heartily at the thought, and then dismissed it. His family has always believed in the dream, though. When we couldn't determine the sex during our 3rd pregnancy, we felt positive that we were having a boy. Chris' Mom, however, went out and bought three dresses for the Christmas following the baby's birth. Those dresses have now been used many, many times!!! And now, nine years after the fact, it has become clear as can be that the dream was indeed prophetic!

Time to visit the Chiropractor

The joy of the sixth pregnancy: your body is falling apart around you, and the punks who began the destruction are old enough to mock you for it!

Perhaps a litter box is the answer?

How goes the potty training? Well, there are two distinct way of looking at it.

On one hand, it is going almost perfectly. Lucy never wets herself. We were out and about all morning, and worrying about whether she might wet herself or not never even entered my mind.

On the other hand, however..... it's not going well at all. She poops her pants just about every afternoon. At first, she just held in it. As the days passed, however, I started to worry about her little belly so I began spiking her orange juice with laxitives. It worked like a charm...but not in the potty. We've had some pretty horrific messes, to put it mildly. I've now stopped the laxatives, but that has only translated into firmer loads in her underwear. In fact, Lucy is sitting in the bathroom at this very moment, as filthy as can be, while I am trying with all my might to compose myself here in the living room before confronting her.

The killer is that she is predictable in when these incidents occur, but not too predictable. It's never in the morning but while today she pooped her pants at 7:45, two days ago when we stopped by a friend's house, she had her "incident" at 3. There is never any warning - in fact, she seems to be capable of waiting and watching for a chance to sneak off privately. Usually, it happens when I am distracted by something - dinner is burning, or someone has an urgent problem with homework, or I run the garbage outside....I've tried keeping her on the potty for long periods of time - but thus far nothing has worked.

I am at the end of my rope, and I really do not know what to do about this except ride it out, and hope that she eventually gets it.

So, there we are. I have planned to go into Pittsburgh for a quick visit this Saturday, and as the days tick by my concern about this whole potty-dilemma increases. I hope my family appreciates the hell that I am potentially about to walk into.

I hate this stage. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

I really hate it.

Self esteem is not a problem

Abbie was playing near Chris the other day, and in a reflective moment he happened to look over at her.

"You have very pretty hair, Abbie," he said to her, "Do you know that?"

"Yes," she said, tossing her golden locks over her shoulder, "I do. I don't even have to brush it!"

Yardwork from Claire's perspective

Yesterday, Chris' Dad and brother kindly came over to help him saw up a tree that had split in half over the winter. Today, after mass, we mobilized the girls to help clean up the carnage.

As I passed Claire, who was hauling twigs up the steps to the woodpile, I asked her how she was doing.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face and said, "I'm feeling completely dominated, here."

backsliding on the potty training....

The title of this post can be taken literally, unfortunately.

I do not deal well with excessive amounts of uncontrolled feces in the house. (By "excessive" here, I actually mean any amount whatsoever that is not in a diaper or in the toilet where it belongs.) I don't do well with it. I recognize this in myself.

I'm afraid that recognizing my shortcomings does not always translate into....uh, controlling them. So, long story short: the hallway bathroom is now really, really clean but I was kind of a jerk while making it so. And nothing makes you feel more lousy that realizing that the person you were being a jerk to is three years old, and still wants a hug when you calm down.

Parenthood: mortification in every way possible, combined with the constant reminder that you need it, you idiot.

Why did you give that to me?

Chris was snacking on Jalapeno Pepper Doritoes yesterday when Lucy sidled up to him.

"Daddy share his chips!" she chirped, optimistically.

"No, Lu," Chris told her, "these are too spicy. You won't like them."

"I will like them!" she insisted, "I like spicy!"

She continued to hover around him, noting that the chips smelled good and repeatedly reminding him that she "likes spicy!"

Finally, tired of being harassed, Chris gave her one small Dorito. Lucy immediately gobbled it up and smiled at him, but as the heat kicked in she began to gag.

She spit the chip out and gave him an accusatory look, "Why you give that to me?" she wailed.

If you ask her what happened with Daddy's chips now, she will tell you: "Daddy made me eat too spicy!"

She's very convincing.

Beth's brush with fame

Beth had an exciting time at her friend's birthday party tonight. The brave parents took all the party goers to a Japanese steakhouse for dinner, and got an added bonus they were not anticipating.

Shortly after they arrived, Joe Flacco showed up to meet Todd Heap for dinner! The girls were all a-twitter with excitement, and the parents asked Joe if he would be willing to put up with a crowd of giggling girls for a few minutes. He very kindly agreed, and even posed for a picture! So, here it is!

To my dear relatives, I have to say that I am glad this happened in Baltimore and not Pittsburgh. It's nice to have a quarterback you can safely ask to pose with 8 year old girls. Not every city can boast as much.....

I'm on T.V!!

Yes,I am.But hold on, because my name is Katie. I'm the oldest child.
On Tuesday my music teacher, Mrs. Jacobson, walked into the classroom.
"I have a surprise for you ," she told us,"On Thursday the Education channel is coming, and they are going to tape your class!" I was overly excited. But 5 minutes later I was more than excited. Mrs.Jacobson then asked if she could see me for a second. I walked outside with with her.
"I was asked to recommend someone to be interviewed and I recommended you. Can I have your permission?"
"Of course!" I replied. One other kid would be with me. Her name is Makayla, she's really nice. So finally Thursday came(after a field trip!). We went to music 3 minutes early on purpose. A guy was there,his name was Mr. Walker; he was really nice. We did our normal thing. Makayla and I were pointed out. I dropped a mallet in front of the camera! I was asked to be taken out of class near the end. I let Makayla go first. Then I went. I was asked to say what made Mrs.Jacobson a great music teacher. I said that when we learn new things she lets us explore it and find the answer ourselves instead of her telling us the answer. And, I get my own DVD of it!

some catching up to do....

The girls during the blizzard
Originally uploaded by moleshollow

We finally have our camera working again, so if I did this right it ought to link to our flickr page, where I've added a bunch of photos from the past couple of months. Check it out!

Best field trip ever, by Beth

I went on a field trip today. Our tour guide was named Mr. Bill, he was the first shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles. Mr. Bill showed us around and he showed us a lot of amphibians. I got to hold a lot of tadpoles. I got to hold baby tadpoles, big tadpoles, and salamander eggs. The eggs felt like jello. There was a beach there, but its more for wading not much for swimming. You can touch baby tadpoles there but not bring them home. I saw a snake, and figured out that frogs do not go "ribbit ribbit" in the East. But there are frogs that go "ribbit ribbit" in Hollywood. I got to hear frogs and go on a big nature hike. There was also a playground there and there is a nature center.

In the nature center you can see turtles, cockroaches, snakes, bees, frogs, and other artifacts. On the hike you can go to a place called Turtle Island. I didn't see any turtles, but there are a lot of turtles and fish. Be careful, because there is poison ivy! There are picnic tables and chickens and roosters. Mr. Bill asked someone in my group to scream to see if Tom Turkey was there, but he wasn't. Tom Turkey will normally answer back if a girl screams.

This field trip was awesome!

Opinionated little girl

Potty training is continuing to go well. She's had a few accidents, but nothing too terrible. The biggest problem, really, is her attitude about the whole thing. I can tell that she has put some thought in to this whole situation, and has come to the conclusion that diapers are just a better way to go. So while she is does well with running to the potty when she needs to go, she'll often argue with me about putting her in a diaper. It's an issue every morning when I take her nighttime diaper off, and it's an issue several times a day, whenever the mood strikes her and she wants to relax her vigilance. We're going to a little festival at the school this afternoon, and she is already trying to convince me to put her in diapers when we go. (For the record, she is going in underwear.)

Meanwhile, here's an insight into the mind of this kid:

For years and years, I have put the kids to bed by saying a little prayer over them and then repeating the phrase my mom used to say when my sister and I went to sleep, "Dream about the angels!"

It is one of those things that the girls now "need" in order to feel fully tucked in.

Last night, as I turned out the bedroom light and was about to close the door, Lucy's little voice suddenly piped up.

"You can't choose my dreams!" she said.

At first, I had no idea what she was talking about.

"I choose my dreams!" she went on, "I am dream about Daddy or the new baby in Mommy's belly."

"Uh, okay," I said, still not sure what she was talking about it. But then she clarified it for me.

"I am NOT dream about angels!" Lucy said, "I choose my dreams!"

Training Day - day 2

We are almost at the end of Day 2 of our potty-training boot camp, and so far so good. Lucy has only had 1 accident today, and by the early evening she seemed to finally be getting the connection between feeling the need to go and going.

Yesterday, she was clearly afraid to poop on the potty and she was clearly holding it in for a while there. After I put her in a diaper for bedtime, she ran downstairs to kiss Chris goodnight. He became suspicious when she instead went behind the couch and he asked her what she was doing.

"I think I will make poopie now," she told him.

Today Chris brought home three very cute-looking chocolate candies, to be eaten only once Lucy made "poopie on the potty." Low and behold, about half an hour later, things began to (ahem) move forward.

Lucy was doing so well by this evening that I let her run around outside some and she stayed out there for a solid hour without any accidents! I am hoping that I will be able to relax my vigilance tomorrow (I have literally done nothing all day but track her around the house, and for most of the day we were spending 5 minutes out of every 10 in the bathroom.)

In just a few minutes I will begin the nightime routine, and as long as nothing disastrous happens I will declare this day a victory. I don't want to count my chickens before they are hatched, but so far this has been a relatively painless process. Don't get me wrong, I would still rather do almost anything else other than potty-train, but.... if we can continue on in this vein, it will be entirely liveable. I never thought I'd even be tempted to refer to potty-training in those terms.

We are potty-training today

Gah! I hate this. If I had known that raising children would include having to house-break them, I never would have....

Well, okay, I guess I did know. But if I am honest, my internal dialogue every time I discover that I am pregnant again goes something like this:

We are going to have a baby! Hooray! But, crap, that's one more time I'm going to have to potty-train.

Well, here we go again. Thus far today, Lucy is not taking this very seriously. She thinks it is kind of funny. I am increasingly of the opposite opinion. We'll see who wins this round.

When being cavalier about the weather is a big mistake

The girls had a half-day on Friday, so we decided that it would be fun to walk to the little playground that is about a mile down the road. The neighbor kids showed up and asked if they could come along, so we packed up some water and headed out.

We met another family at the park and had a great time. The kids were all playing well, it was a gorgeous day, and the hours just sped by. Some time around 5, however, the neighbor kids' Grandmother suddenly showed up in her car and informed all of us that a tornado warning had just been issued for our area.

I looked up at the sky, which was darkening in the distance, and the wind was picking up a bit, but it didn't look like anything terribly serious. I mentally dismissed the Grandmother's panic, and declined an offer from my friend to drive us home. The walk to the park had been nice, and I could see no reason why the walk back wouldn't be as enjoyable.

About 2/3 home, however, things suddenly took a very, very bad turn. The sky became purple and the wind began to howl. Rain came from nowhere and literally drenched us all to the skin within a few seconds. The girls were completely panicked. It all happened so fast that I can't remember who was doing what, but somebody took off running in pure fear and it was nearly impossible to shout at her over the wind. I finally gathered everyone around me, and decided to call Chris for rescue and then find a place where we could wait. As I dialed my phone, however, the wind ripped a FOR SALE sign off of the house across the street, and whipped it directly at us. The girls were screaming, and I tried to simultaneously shield Lucy (who was on my back) and deflect the sheet of heavy metal from the girls. Honestly, I can't remember how we avoided getting hit by it -- whether I did something, or whether the wind just diverted it in another direction, but as soon as we were clear from that danger, I shouted for the girls to run with all their might for the Post Office ahead of us.

We made it inside without further incident, all of us soaking wet but otherwise not hurt. The Post Office matron very kindly gave us all towels to dry our faces and after a few minutes Chris showed up to bring us home.

Later that day, Katie - who has been living in Middle Earth for a while now - told me that she no longer feels as eager for adventure as she had been. "Being in danger wasn't exciting at all," she said, "it just felt scary."

The Art of Leisure

On Monday, I clocked in at 4am to the bakery for the last time. On Tuesday, Lucy had her much anticipated, greatly hyped 3rd birthday. On Wednesday, I chaperoned the 5th grade field trip to Philadelphia.

Today, I am doing nothing.

Chris tells me that he has finally solved our picture-uploading problems, so tomorrow I plan to dig out all of those pictures I have been promising to post for the last four months.

Right now, though, I am going to tuck Dicken's Dombey and Son under my arm and go sit outside while the girls play kickball. I'm going to listen to the birds chirp, and feel the warm breeze, and beyond the swing-pushing that I will most likely agree to, I will enjoy this day of not doing a blessed thing.

Expecting

The sound below of laughter boisterous
Together now, then scattered, singular
As the small one creeps up stairs to sidle near,
Too new a branch to burn long unassisted.

The silent fluttering within
Gives the sweetness of her tousled head
Against my arm a kind of salty tang.
She warms with quickened ease now,
A touch, a shift, the blaze renews,
Straining for embers more rarely
The light less borrowed or shared,
Smoldering from fissures unseen.

So soon to be her own and not of mine!
And while this quickening draws,
Stirring and pulling at the frame,
Yet still the yearning it drafts
Clings again to the earlier branch
And is the more consumed.
Too bright for pain, the mesmerizing flames
Mine, less so with every flare.
The searing dear to yield such wonder.

The other "stuff"

The two younger girls and I went to Target this afternoon.

The corner counter top in the kitchen has been bugging me lately, because it tends to be the dumping ground for all sorts of junk. Chris has a habit of scrawling vital and irreplaceable information on little pieces of scrap paper and then dumping them on the pile of junk mail, and after accidentally pitching a few important scrawls I have washed my hands of the pile altogether. This means that the mountain of scrap paper (interspersed with business cards, surgical tidbits, and reciepts) grows and grows and grows....and takes up the entire counterspace. I have tried multiple times to impose order via various wicker baskets, once I even tried a bread drawer, but the pile always ends up overwhelming whatever container I was hoping would...contain the stuff. So naturally I have come to the conclusion that I just need a bigger container.

I was browsing the "storage" section, looking over the baskets and canvas boxes, when Abbie asked what I was looking for. I heard her right away because she tends to speak in an only slightly subdued yell whenever we are in stores.

"I'm just looking for something to put Daddy's stuff in," I said.
"Oh," Abbie responded in her signature screechy-yell, "You mean beer!"

The children's dreams come true

Chris was in the middle of prepping his famous fish and chips for dinner tonight, when there was a disaster with the cod. Don't ask what it was, because now that the girls are reading this blog I have to be careful, and I want them to stay enthusiastic fish lovers. It was bad, though, so although Chris was already halfway done with the french fries he baled on the fish and ordered pizza.

When the girls came up the stairs to discover a dinner of pizza and french fries, they were understandably stoked.

Katie eyed the table in surprise, "Are you sure Easter isn't tonight?" she asked.

Ephiphany in preparation for Easter

This is not nearly as profound as it sounds.

I ran to Target after work today to pick up a few extra things I still needed for Easter Baskets....one of the "extras" being the Easter baskets themselves. Earlier this year, when Chris and I were cleaning out the basement, I threw away all of the old Easter baskets. They were in lousy shape, and I figured that it would be better to just buy new ones.

So, in Target, I made my way to the Easter section and found myself appalled at how expensive those stupid things are. There is no way that I am going to shell out $20 per baskets for the nicer, sturdier ones, but at the same time it felt wrong to spend between $7-12 on the cheap baskets that I know won't last more than a few years.

What to do? Suddenly, it hit me and I made my way to the other side of the store. The purse section. And there, hanging prettily from hooks in a variety of bright colors were the perfect bags - big and roomy, with plenty of space for presents and a deep enough so that they can be tied shut. (The Easter bunny often brings our gifts in themes, and it can be a bummer for some girls to stumble upon someone else's basket and then basically know what their own baskets hold long before finding them.)

These bags are perfect! Easy to store, sturdy, well-made and $10 a piece! Hooray! It felt good to leave the store knowing that I won't be dropping another $60+ in a year or two for new baskets. Plus, when I got home, the girls were just as ecstatic as I knew they'd be; what girl can resist the lure of a cute new purse???

And in light of Katie's post below, for the curious: yes, I did buy six purses. But just in case, the last one was blue.

Guest post by Katie

Hello, my name is Katie. As being the oldest of 4 others, things can get pretty hectic. Also, with me being in 5th grade, I have a lot of projects and homework "To get us ready for Middle School" as the teachers say. I do write a lot of books, half of the ones I think of I write. And yes, I am an elf. My address is 5116 Apple Tree. Look at 5116 closely, and you might figure this out. Give your guesses in the commment box. J.R.R Tolkien is my favorite author. READ THE LORD OF THE RINGS!!!! It's great, unless you HATE fantasy( shame on all that do).
I sometimes get breakfast for the girls, watch them on the bus, play with them, etc.

Now for my big annoncment.

October 13, or around then, welcome kid number 6!!!
WOOHOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lots of activity for one day....

...considering the fact that I have been updating this so infrequently lately. The reasons are:

1 - I didn't work yesterday or today, which means I'm fully rested (aka coherent) today
2 - I'm sick, so lazing around more than usual
3 - I'm feeling alive because I just quit my job! (Well, mostly. I'll still be working until mid April, but at least there is an end in sight to the 4am-4pm shifts of doom.)


Also, you'll notice the new twitter feed to the left. I know that it is ridiculous for a woman to have a blog AND a twitter account when she has nothing to say, but it was the only way to enter a "meet Conan O'Brien" contest. So, there you go.

Unpredictable

We were in Target today when Lucy, suddenly and with no warning, began to publicly humiliate a random woman who happened to be walking slightly in front of us.

"Look!" She yelled out, pointing, "It's an old lady! That is a OLD LADY!"

I would guess the poor woman was in her mid-forties. At the most. She looked pretty spry to me.

"Look at that OLD LADY!" Lucy yelled out again, just as I clamped my hand over her mouth and swooped her into a side aisle to get her out of sight.

"Lucy," I whispered frantically to her, "we don't talk about people like that. It's bad manners!"

"Oh," she said, furrowing for a moment. "I'm sorry."

We began to make our way through the store (far away from where the woman - who may or may not have noticed the commotion Lucy was making towards her) when Lucy, who must have been thinking it over, piped up, "Mom!"

"Yes?" I asked.

"But that lady was old!"

Back to the drawing board with this one. I wish I knew what it was about this poor woman that left such a strong impression on Lucy. I also wish I knew how to predict and stop these kinds of outbursts before they happened. I have a feeling, though, that this is but a small hint of the unpredictable nature of Miss Lucy Anna.

Another mystery, another potential horror

Does anybody remember the time somebody puked in my bathroom and nobody would fess up to it? You can relive it here, if you wish.

Thank the laptop gods that I still can't upload photos, because we had another mystery last night and this one was of horrific proportions.

A very suspicious brown smear appeared directly in front of the toilet last night. There was also a partial brown handprint on the wall by the light switch.

Disgust, horror, and wild accusations ensued. Everyone was questioned, everyone claimed complete and utter innocence. Just about everyone also had their own suspicions about who it might be; it was kind of like playing "Clue," actually, except that the "weapon" was biological.

The investigation reached the following conclusions:

1 - The hand print actually appeared the previous evening, and is most likely attributable to the chocolate mint souffle we had for St. Patty's Day.
2 - Nobody used the upstairs bathroom yesterday. Not no body, not no how. The various people who were all seen either entering or exiting the bathroom were in there for reasons other than using the facilities. They'd like to see anybody try to prove any different.
3- The girls spent a lot of time outdoors yesterday, and parts of the yard are still very muddy. Thus, although no one admits to being anywhere near the toilet, if somebody had, the smear could have come from muddy shoes.
4- No matter what it was or who did it, it needed to be removed and there was only one person qualified to get the job done.

As I scrubbed the floor, wondering if I should be grateful for having a cold and being unable to smell or if I should be frustrated at my inablitity to use that sense to determine if I was cleaning up mud or....something much worse, Beth stood near the door watching me.

"When I see you doing things like this," she said to me, "it makes me think that maybe I don't want to ever be a mother."

You and me both, kiddo. You and me both.

Guest post by Beth

The girls have suddenly gone blog-crazy, so I am allowing both Beth and Katie to write their own posts. Here's Beth's:

Hi! I'm Beth.Rebecca Mlinek daughter.(#2 out of 5.) Sometimes I pull Lucy around in a basket. One time I was cleaning my room. I put Lucy in the basket. Then I went to put clothes in the landry basket.When I got back Lucy was in the basket but sideways. "DADDY!" she cried.Yes,daddy.I've been known as daddy latley. When we play house I'm the dad.I found Lucy sideways alot.Finaly, I went dowstairs to put a toy away. Guess what? Lucy follwed me. Luckily, Katie was there so Lucy cried "MOMMY!" Yes, mommy. Katie is the mom when we play house.Lucy went with her. Free at last. Free to clean in peace! Only bad part is I don't really like to clean. I just like to play.(P.S When I wrote this so mom could approve it I was watching Dad and Uncle Andy play Modern Warfar 2 on the Xbox. Uncle Andy's broke.)

How Lucy dominates her father

Chris kindly let me sleep in this morning, and he most likely regretted it the moment he stepped foot outside our bedroom.

He found Lucy in the kitchen, meticulously strewing toilet paper around the table and chairs.*

"What are you doing?" he (sensibly) asked her.

She replied, "It's Lucy Anna's birthday!"**

Looking at his face as he surveyed the damage, she added, "It can be your birthday, too!"


*She also "decorated" the toilet paper with pink fabric glue
**It is not Lucy Anna's birthday

Irrepressible

Chris heard feet pattering in the kitchen after the girls had gone to bed. When he went to investigate, he found Abbie, who claimed that she couldn't go to sleep because Lucy was being, "crazy."

So Chris went upstairs to see what "crazy" meant.

Lucy had tossed her blankets around the room and was sitting on her bare bed, holding a clothes hanger and pontificating to her toys.

"Lucy," Chris thundered, "what are you doing?"

She turned calm and unconcerned eyes to him and replied, "Tomorrow, I need you to buy me some candy!"

She was actually surprised to find herself in trouble after that.

I've said it before, but it is really, really true: a worry and a wonder is what this kid is. In that order.

Word of warning

Katie has been reading my blog regularly for about three months now. She has decided that she should "give her perspective" in the comment box, and after thinking about it (I mean, this is my blog! I should be able to put whatever I want up here without an opinionated ten year old dogging my every move!) I decided to give her a go.

We'll see how this works.

I guess I'll have to stop writing posts about what a terrible, no-good loser my firstborn is. Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted. :)

(Also, another word of warning: I'm letting her read the blogs linked on my sidebar. She's mostly reading your blog, Vanessa - just to let you know!)

Our first neice!

We have a niece! Our very first!

If my computer would allow me to upload photos, I'd put one on here. Unfortunately, everyone will just have to imagine how perfect, and sweet, and utterly adorable baby Gianna is. It's easy - just picture the most adorable baby you've ever seen, and then kick it up a notch. Don't forget the soft cloud of dark hair and perfectly round, lightly pink cheeks.

She's really beautiful.

And now here is a funny story:

Chris and I have been asked to be the godparents for this particular bundle of awesomeness. We were only too glad to accept, naturally. Becky and Dante were both firmly convinced that they were having a boy, and we both had a little laugh over the fact that, although we collectively have 5 godchildren, this would be our very first male godchild.

So, two weeks ago, I ran into our parish office to get forms for the baptism. I was actually getting multiple forms, because I also have the honor of being godmother to my friend Monica's new baby, Cecilia. There was a crowd in the office that morning, and a few people commented upon how much they enjoy seeing our parade of girls every Sunday. I thanked them for the compliment, and then explained my errand to the secretary.

It took the secretary a few minutes to fill out all of the necessary forms, and as she worked on them she said, "You must be very popular godparents!"

Reflexively, I said, "I guess people just naturally think of us when they have baby girls!" and we all laughed.

As I said it though, I mentally chided myself because Becky was so very, very confident that she was having a boy.

Heh heh heh.

So welcome to little Gianna, such a surprise to her mommy (although not a surprise to her big brother, who insisted all along that he was getting a sister!) It continues to amaze me how very deeply I can be moved by other people's babies. You might think that, having had so many of my own, I'd be totally over the whole miracle-of-life thing, but it's not so. As I looked down on the peaceful, perfect little face of Gianna, I was absolutely overwhelmed with awe and love. What a miracle. What a blessing. What an honor to have some share in this little soul's life. Welcome, little one. May God bless you now, and always.

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Valentine's Day is such a different experience when you have kids. I remember our first Valentine's Day as a couple, when Chris and I made elaborate gifts for each other by hand. (He made me a huge card, complete with glitter and hearts that he had cut out of construction paper. I made him a clay model of Champ, the Loch Ness monster of Vermont, and we both made mix tapes for each other, with detailed descriptions of why each song was chosen...) We opened a bottle of Chardonnay (which neither of us liked) and I think we went out to eat, although I can't actually remember. In those days, dinner out was not the rare, amazing treat it is now.

Here we are now, though, with five little girls giggling profusely around us, and the romance level of this holiday has definitely taken a hit.

It's awesome.

The girls began the day so very sweetly. (That is, if you overlook how Lucy woke up and promptly removed her diaper, then with complete unconcern proceeded to urinate all over herself in the kitchen. I am doing everything in my power to supress that memory, and I think it might be working....)

Katie made Chris and I cards with little poems she had composed herself. Beth is planning some sort of one-man play that will no doubt shock and impress us later this evening. Abbie made us pictures with her signature "Abbie! Amy!" captions. (Those are the only words she can write by memory -- I have no answer for why she taught herself to write "Amy" as Abbie does not know a single person with that name. Some things are destined to remain a mystery.)

Lucy promised to keep her diaper on.

Claire, though, stole the show with her awesome cards. I've included her card to Chris here, because I love it. It's an illustration of "How Daddy kills the bad guys," and she included a pull-away paper sword to use as neccessary. (The sword was too big to scan, so you just see the top of it here.)

Later on today, Chris will make an awesome Thai-inspired mussel dish (and hamburgers for the girls) and we will try out the milk chocolate mousse with port-wine ganache topped with vanilla creme fraiche that I attempted. Then we'll put the kids to bed, and Chris and I will probably watch a movie and then hit the hay, as I need to be up by 3:15 tomorrow.

Not exactly the wine-and-roses days of our youth, but so much better because it is so....real. And funny. Chris will probably (as he has every morning since the big snow) roll out of bed as I'm getting dressed tomorrow to warm the car up for me, and my heart will melt more than I ever thought possible that first Valentine's Day, even though I thought then that I was as deeply in love as it gets.

Back then, we had all the time in the world to devote to romance. But we didn't have Valentine's Day cards illustrated with blood and rotting corpses. And we didn't have bracelets painstakingly made out of blue plastic beads. And we didn't have toddlers gravely promising to "keep the diaper on! Because I love you."

I look at the commercials on the t.v. today, with their flowers and jewelry and fancy clothes and night-on-the-towns, and I wouldn't trade a single second of this day for it.

Man, I love my family.

Snowpocolypse Now

This is the craziest snowstorm I've ever seen. Claire keeps asking, "Are we snowed in yet?" and I eventually realized that what she means is, "Is it physically impossible for us to exit our house yet?"

Close. Really close. The snow in our backyard is level with the deck railing. Chris went out to brush off the air vent, and the snow at some points was over his chest.

The girls had been logging some serious hours outside since the last storm a few days ago, but today it is literally impossible. The wind is so intense that I often can't see outside the windows, and the snow is over the heads of all of the girls. Chris and I spent a good four hours (and Chris spent closer to six) digging out the driveway last Saturday, and now you can't tell that we did it at all. Chris made a foray outside today, but we've decided to wait to shovel until tomorrow when the wind dies down.

So how do you spend a snow day when it's too intense to actually enjoy the snow? If you are us, you watch The Killers DVD for the billionth time (and if you think Chris and I are the ones watching this over and over and over, you don't know our kids.) We read. I Bake. We eat. We eat some more. Copious amounts of hot cocoa are consumed. I knit, Chris tries to play video games, and when the girls start to get to crazy I mobilize them to rearrange multiple rooms in the house.

Chris was thrilled with that last one.

A friend called us yesterday on the spur of the moment and invited us over for lunch, before we were all snowed in again. I am so glad that we accepted the offer as I look out now at the white wasteland around us. It's hard to keep from feeling that the snow will be here forever now, that we will have to dig our way to the pool next summer and that hanging up dripping boots and gloves will become a permanent routine.

It's gorgeous, though. And, despite the frantic level of noise as the girls go a leetle bit stir-crazy, it's so nice and cozy to have us all holed up together, drinking our hot cocoa under warm blankets as the snow continues to swirl outside with no sign of slowing down. So we'll fire up the DVD again, and I'll say a small prayer of thanks that we all (Lucy included, no joke) can enjoy The Killers together.

foreign lands

We discussed possibly getting "The Rosetta Stone" language tapes yesterday. The girls all weighed in on what language they'd like to learn.

"French," said I (sneakily, as I spent 6 years learning french but can only remember about four words.)

"Spanish," said Katie, practical as usual.

"Latin," said Beth, who likes to mix things up.

"I'd like to learn Texas," said Claire.

Fuel for the midnight oil

This weekend, I made a skateboard out of cake for a friend's son's birthday party. However, due to upheavals and various other drama in the bakery, I am working more hours (and the worst hours) this week than ever before and I am tired. Tie-red. Tahred. Taaahed.

So, naturally, I stayed up until midnight making the skateboard the night before working a 4am shift at the bakery. Around 10pm things were getting worrisome, as I was dragging and despairing as the fondant I was trying to color red remained a stubborn dark pink. Katie and Beth were still up, watching as I kneaded the ball of fondant over and over, adding more and more red dye (and drops of blue...and drops of black).

They had been quiet for a while, and I was wondering if the girls were beginning to despair - as I certainly was - that I would ever get it right. Just then, though, Beth leaned over and said, " I sometimes think that you are just about the best cook in the whole world, and I guess I'm pretty lucky that you are my mother."

!!!!

Should one be in need of motivation a statement like that does the trick, to put it simply .

I guess I'm pretty lucky to have daughters like this.


* I'll post of picture of the cake - which turned out pretty well (It wasn't perfect, but I was mostly pleased) if my laptop ever lets me upload the pictures.

My little girl

I was in the older girls' bedroom last night, chatting for a few minutes before kissing them goodnight, when Katie cornered me and said in a furtive whisper, " Something bad happened in school today."

I could tell that she was trying to keep Beth from hearing, so I also lowered my voice and asked her to explain.

She told me that someone in her class wrote "I want to have sex with -----" on a bathroom wall.

I stood for a moment in shock, looking at my sweet little ten year old daughter, and wondering what this world has come to. I took the moment to compose myself so that I could ascertain, as delicately as possible, how much innocence she had been robbed of that day.

I lowered my voice even more, and whispered to her, "Do you know what that means?"

Her eyes opened wide, and she said confidently, "Yes, I do."

I took another moment to compose myself. "What does it mean?" I whispered.

"It means," Katie said, her brows lowering in dissaproval, "That she defaced school property!"

I told her that she was absolutely right and then I kissed my little girl goodnight. I am glad to know that, a year ago, she decided on her own to avoid the group that the vandal runs with, because she didn't like how "shallow" (her words) they were getting.

That being said, the time for a certain talk is no longer approaching: it is here. *Sigh*

Cool stuff

I've had this blog for over four years now, believe it or not, so I'm going to go ahead and make the usual blogger plunge: bare my soul for all the internet to see.

Would you like a peep into my psyche? Then watch the video below. It fills me with joy just to know that I am living in a world in which people create things like this.

Growing geeks

Meeting the X-Men (and Spiderman....and Captain America!)
Originally uploaded by moleshollow

Chris was playing Ultimate Alliance on his Xbox as the girls (as they always do) watched and (as they always do, to my glee) commented on his playing. At some point, Claire asked Chris to switch characters, and play as the Hulk. He did so, and Claire then asked if he could switch to Batman.

Beth scornfully turned to her and said, "What are you thinking? Hulk is Marvel, Batman is DC!"

We couldn't be more proud.

It's good to be 5!

Abbie turns 5 today! I will post pictures someday, when my laptop allows me to upload them from my camera. Hopefully it will be in the mood sooner rather than later.

Abbie had a good day, I think. This birthday feels like a real milestone, to us, for some reason. Chris and I are both just finding ourselves...extra grateful, I guess, to have this kid around.

The morning started off very sweetly. The two older girls (on their own, with their own money, and without my prior knowledge) bought birthday gifts for Abbie at the Holiday Shop they have in school. So they begged me to allow Abbie to open them before school. Claire, who doesn't yet have her own money, decided a few days ago to make Abbie a bracelet and she went first, shyly apologizing to Abbie for the homemade gift (which was also way too small) but Abbie gave her a big hug and said, "Oh, I love it, Claire! It's okay that I can't wear it, I'll just like to look at it."

Beth gave Abbie a Christmas-tree shaped etch-a-sketch, which was cool and well appreciated but soon eclipsed by Katie's gift, a talking bear that records your own messages. As the girls were all exclaiming excitedly over Katie's gift, Beth sat by herself and fiddled with the etch-a-sketch. Katie (who had very carefully picked out Abbie's gift, and who I know was secretly hoping to be the giver of the day's best present) saw Beth's face and then started loudly talking about how cool the etch-a-sketch was, drawing everyone's attention back to it.

I was so proud. So proud of all of them.

We ate our cinnamon rolls, and later Chris and I took Abbie and Lucy to Abbie's favorite library (which has a kid-sized town to explore, complete with grocery store, post office and fishing pond). We fired up Abbie's dinner of choice (Spaghetti-O's, Lord help me) and then the Grandparents and returning college hero, Uncle Andy, came over for some (terribly ugly - wait until you see the picture!) cake. Tomorrow we will all go to the aquarium, and Grandma Niccoli will come over to finish off our celebration. Abbie is having a great birthday.

That morning in the kitchen, though, is what I will remember forever. Five girls coming together so happily, so sweetly, so lovingly. We have plenty of mornings full of bickering and spilt milk and nasty attitudes, but it was good to see everyone pull together like that and just enjoy making their sister happy. That is one of Abbie's talents - she draws people to her, and draws out the best in them.

I thank God for the privilege of being her mother. I thank Him for giving us this time with her. I thank Him for the dynamic she brings to this family.

Happy Birthday, Bejabbers. We love you.

Bumps in the Night

I got home from work tonight around 8:30. By the time I had run upstairs to help Katie and Beth pick out outfits for "70s Day" tomorrow, made lunches and thrown some dishes in the dishwasher, it was 9:30. The girls were all asleep, Chris was playing videogames in the basement and the rest of the house was still and quiet.

I was on my laptop, looking at pictures of my Sister and Brother-in-Law's new house (congrats, guys!) when an eerie feeling came over me. I began to feel goose-prickly, like someone was watching me. Gradually I became aware, out of the corner of my eye, of a figure, all in white approaching with its arms reaching toward me. It was moving slowly, in absolute silence.

I did what was only natural, of course. I jumped and cried out. Abbie's eyes grew wide as she continue to stalk towards me with her arms held out.

"I just wanted a kiss from you," she said.

She got the kiss, and probably a good 5 years off my lifespan as well.

Sorry for the long silence around here. I have pictures of my sister's wedding, some awesome videos of the girls, and some other stuff to share.....but I have been working crazy hours (40 hrs/week is crazy when you are only supposed to be part-time and have an entire other life full of laundry and boo-boos and bubble baths to tend to) and I just haven't had the five minutes to spare. Soon, though. I promise.

Short Rib Sundays

I was about to comment on a favorite blog of mine, when I realized that what I was going to say is really better said here, where all of you (meaning: mom and mom-in-law) can appreciate it.

Working in the bakery has been going really well. I like what I'm doing (decorating cakes, mostly, with some proofing and baking thrown in. It's the hauling boxes in and out of freezers that I can do without.) My manager has been great about trying to accommodate me, scheduling me to only work three days out of the week so that I can be at home as much as possible. The only downside is that usually means I get the Sunday doughnut shift - starting at 4am (and soon to be 3am). I actually like doing the doughnuts, but the hours are a killer for a dyed-in-the-wool nightowl like myself.

Here's the thing, though, that makes it all just dandy. Chris has, for one, been bringing the girls in to see me around my lunch break (which, when you begin work at 4, ends up being around 10am.) I set aside doughnuts for them - which means they get to have as many of the coveted strawberry-frosted as they want (a rare thing, as finding 5 strawberry doughnuts at once is much harder than you would think.)

Also, Chris has been stepping up to the plate for Sunday dinners, making braised short ribs almost every weekend. Braised short ribs, if you don't know, is similar to a roast only.........well, much better. It is truly fall off the fork tender -that's not just an expression, you know! It is an actual phenomena that can be achieved if you have a way with meat. And Chris does. It is comforting, and warm, and aromatic, and delicious. It's the perfect fall/winter meal, and the perfect way to end a day that began elbow-deep in frosting hours before the birds are even thinking of waking up.

I see the effort he is making to help me out where he can. Sundays used to be his sacred, football-watching, lounging-around day, and I know it is a sacrifice to him to give that up. And I'm so grateful that he is willing to; it keeps me from becoming just a tired wife; instead I'm a happy wife, grateful for the chance to be a part of this amazing family.

Short ribs: soul-food in every sense of the term.

Better late than never

Here are some pictures from Halloween! Sorry for the long delay, but this laptop is such a lemon that it will sometimes not let me upload pictures. I finally have them, though, so here you go!
Katie was Hermione, Beth was a vampire, Claire was an Indian princess, Abbie was Red Riding Hood, and Lucy was.....a psychedelic princess/fairy hybrid. Most costumes courtesy of my amazing mother-in-law!
I would like to point out, specifically, the red lining on Beth's vampire cape. Super cool!

As we usually do, we went trick-or-treating with the Lobers in their neighborhood. The kids form a gang of candy-crazed trick or treaters, Vanessa mixes up some of her awesome spiced (and spiked) cider, and fun is had by all!

I learned my lesson, and for Claire's Fall party made cupcakes with less frosting. The kids got a kick out of them, (and actually ate them!) and I got to feel superior for a few minutes as the mother who brought the best treat. :-)

pictures for ya

First of all, Katie's first sleepover. It went well: I only had to tell them to quiet down twice, and I was able to fall asleep around 1:30 so....much better than any sleepover I had as a kid! (Sorry again, Mom.)

A phenomena I've observed was highlighted during this party - the almost mythical dimensions "the sisters" have reached. We had carefully coached the younger girls to stay out of the way of the party, but both Katie and her friends wanted to include them at every turn. One of the crafts we did was to decorate and sign pillowcases, and the other girls all insisted on having not only the girls from the party, but Katie's little sisters sign them as well. The younger girls were treated like celebrities. It made me proud to realize just how much Katie talks up her sisters to her friends, and it also made me proud to see what a force these five girls make when they band together. The other kids all clearly viewed them as something special that they wanted to be a part of, and it did my heart so much good to have it confirmed: it's not just my mother's eyes that see it, these girls really are something special.

They even insisted on including the sisters in the group photo:

Here's Katie blowing out the candles on her cupcake. (It's become a bday party staple here to have decorate-your-own cupcakes. Makes it easier on me!)

Here's Katie's actual birthday cake. I wasn't completely happy with it, but I learned a valuable lesson: never use dark colored glittery sprinkles with light colored frosting!

And here are cupcakes that I pretty proud of. Funny thing, though - Katie's teacher (very sweetly) emailed me to say that she grew up in New York City, but thought my cupcakes were the best she's ever had. (Yeah, okay, I'm bragging, but wait for the rest of the story...) The thing is, the kids in school didn't like them at all. Chris thinks it's because they aren't used to frosting that isn't from a can, but who knows? Obviously, the cupcakes were pretty frosting-heavy. Katie was happy with them, though, so that's really the only thing that matters. As always, my goal is only to impress my kids. If that's accomplished, who cares what anyone else thinks!

They were cute, though, weren't they?

It's been a while since I've updated this! Sorry! This whole working thing is cramping my internet habits these days.

I have pictures from Katie's birthday party (our first sleepover - which went well, considering the bad karma I should have coming my way from my own childhood sleepovers...), the visit from my family (which ended in the swine flu - three of my cousins immediately went home and became very ill - so chalk up another miracle for us that we don't seem to have caught it) and the super cute cupcakes I made for Katie's classroom, and of which I am very proud. The laptop is being wonky, though, and that's where all the pictures are, so it'll need to wait.

Work is going pretty well. I like playing with frosting, I like baked goods, I like giving cookies to little kids, so it's lucky for me that I work in a bakery. I had assumed that I would be given extensive training and time to get up to speed, but nope! My first day, I made at least 20 cakes to put out on the floor. Let me tell you, your frosting skills really made leaps and bounds when you are spending 6 hours every day doing it. I made one cake with balloons that I was not proud of - they looked very deflated. And while I can now pipe ghosts in my sleep, my very first one looked....well, obscene is what it looked like. I kept looking at it and thinking of Cake Wrecks - a blog I really love (and am not going to link to, because I don't want her to know I exist, but google it! You'll be glad you did, it's really funny!) and thinking how terrible it would be to find a picture of something I had done on there. My ghost could have made it - it was that bad. I even tried to chuck it, but we had a Halloween cake sale going on, and they needed every cake we could get out there. Oh, well.

So....I'll put up some pictures soon. Till then, amuse yourself with some of the posts over at Cake Wrecks, and pray that I may never again deserve to end up there. :)

My zombies are the coolest!

I wrote an article about zombies for my Examiner column, (you can see it here ) but I couldn't find any relevant pictures through Examiner's AP feed. In the end, we did an impromptu makeup session and zombie photo shoot in the front yard, and some of the pictures are just too good to keep to myself! I could only include three in the actual article, so here are the best of the rest. The girls were really, really into it.

This last one is my absolute favorite. Look at that commitment! Abbie is a natural!

Jellybeans and little girls

Do you see this jellybean cannister? Imagine five girls standing around it, salivating. Coveting. Sort of like this:

I bought the jellybeans for Chris. Anything that qualifies as a treat around here has a tendency to....disappear. Quickly. The girls are a lot like locusts when it comes to sugar. So, because I bought the jellybeans for my hardworking husband and wanted him to be able to eat a few, I put a strict prohibition on the jellybeans. They are only for BOYS.

The girls can't take it. They are dying of desire. They have not, however, touched the jellybeans. They gather around the jar, look longingly at its contents, repeatedly wonder aloud how the various colors might taste...but they don't touch them. They respect the Daddy's right to his own treat.

But let's talk about Lucy. She is a wonder and a worry to me, in that order. I marvel at how self-assured she is, how little she cares what others are doing or thinking, how confident she is in her place in the world. I can't believe this little firebrand shares genes with me. I can't believe that I had a hand in bringing this force of nature into existence. While the other girls were tip-toeing around the jellybeans, Lucy studied them long and hard. Then, a few days after their arrival, she came to a decision.

Chris and I were in the basement when she came halfway down the stairs and stopped to confront us. "I am share Daddy's beans, " she announced, looking expectantly at Chris.

Her gaze was unflinching and steely.

He stood up and went to get her some beans.


How could he not? "I am share Daddy's beans," she said, and she meant it. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a statement. Concise and unconquerable. Just like Lucy.

Watch out, world, because your jellybeans are next.

Adding to the resume....

Two things:

1- I was just hired to work in the bakery of our local grocery store part-time! I am excited, nervous, worried, curious and about a million other feelings all at once. My first day is Monday, and I'll let you know how it goes. With a little luck, I'm hoping to work the schedule so that I am away from the girls as little as possible.

2- I've begun writing a freelance-ish column for a local website. The link is on my blogroll to the left. I'm enjoying this quite a bit, although it's not exactly lucrative work.

Life is a funny thing, and can take you all sorts of places you never expected to go. One thing you can always count on, though is this: it's always interesting!

Zombie Groundhog

We had a wild time in the fake country tonight.

I am warning you now: the stuff below is not for the squeamish.

Chris and I were cooking dinner in the kitchen, and the girls were all playing outside with the neighbor kids. Suddenly, Beth came shrieking up the hill from the playset, and barreled into the kitchen yelling, "Groundhog! Groundhog!"

"Where?" Chris asked, looking out the window. Beth explained that they had been playing on the slide, when somebody noticed a large, furry animal sitting at the bottom.

"What did it do when you saw it?" Chris asked.
"Uh, not really anything," said Beth. "It just sort of sat there and looked at us, like this." With that, she did a pretty spot-on groundhog imitation, with her paws held up to her face.

So Chris got his shotgun (a.k.a. the child-sized critter-killin' machine from WalMart) and sped off down the hill where the kids were all gathered together, watching the groundhog who was indeed crouched beside the slide.

Chris could tell immediately that something was wrong with the animal, so he did what needed to be done. When it was over, we all crowded around the dead groundhog. One of the neighbor kids asked if Chris could turn it over, because she thought that it might have only one arm, so Chris turned it over and...

Oh, wow. Are you ready for this?
It was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life. Half of the groundhog's belly was covered in maggots. Maggots. You can see them in the picture above. The groundhog was literally being eaten alive before Chris put an end to it.

So we buried the dead, and we were all relieved to have it out of sight.

Out of mind is another matter, though.

The fake country can be a pretty brutal place.

I love Lucy

Yesterday was "Family Fun Night" at the girls' school, so we reluctantly (we hate mingling) packed up and headed on over to have some pizza and awkward conversation.

I am so glad that we did.

They were playing music in the gym, and Claire almost immediately took up residence on the dance floor with her best friend. Not long after, Lucy joined her and it was one of those sights that I will remember for the rest of my life. Claire and Lucy danced. And danced. And danced. While other kids came and went, joined in and wandered away, the two of them stuck together and boogied like there was no tomorrow. Every other kid out there was easily twice the size of Lucy, but she couldn't have cared less. She did the funky chicken, she shook her hips and she hopped around without a care in the world. At one point, she decided to wriggle around on the floor, and I watched as Claire positioned herself over her crazy baby sister to keep the other kids from stepping on her. Lucy, however, was just lost in her own world. When a conga-line formed Abbie, who had joined in with Katie, was stiff and awkward, whispering (loudly) to Chris, "I don't want to touch that boy" (in front of her.) She was nervous around all those big kids. Not Lucy. Claire and Lucy joined up, and Lucy funky-chickened her way around the gym without a care in the world.

Later, when we went out to gather the older girls from the playground, Lucy began to pester me to let her go down the playground slide.

"I don't know," I told her, eying the chaos in the dark, "There are a lot of big kids there, Lucy, and they're being pretty crazy."

Lucy patted my shoulder, "Don't worry, " she said. "I strong, Momu."

(Momu is her new nickname for me. I can't get her to stop using it. It rhymes with "Shamu.")

There's nothing more to say about this kid, really. "I strong" she says. And she should know: nobody is more confident in their place in the world than my little Lu.