End of Pregnancy Hijinks

I'm eight days away from having a baby, and life is interesting.

Chris gave me a sweet surprise last week, mysteriously requesting as he left for work that I be wearing a specific outfit by a certain time. When the time came, we dropped Lucy off at my sister-in-law's and then headed out for one last nice meal. (Hence the outfit request: he wanted me to feel comfortable in a fancier restaurant without telling me that was where we were going.) We went to a new place with great atmosphere and even better food, and had a very pleasant and peaceful lunch. Until I had to go and break the peace, quite literally. In some random spastic move I, instead of gently setting my goblet of water on the table as I intended, shattered it into about million peices, soaking the tablecloth and sending shards of glass in all directions.

I have no idea what happened. I think my hand must have just stopped working or something. This at least backs up my assertion that the three cameras I have broken in the last nine months are not entirely my fault - it's this baby, who is making me really, really clumsy.

Aside from extreme physical incompetence, late pregnancy seems to have given me some weird aura of voodoo. We went to DC this weekend to meet up with some friends, and as we ushered the girls across the street toward the Washington Monument a woman stopped me to ask if they were all mine. I get this all the time, so I gave my standard answer. Instead of the standard response ("Wow! You must have so much energy!," "Were you hoping for a boy?" or the super-standard, "Are you done now?") the woman told me that she herself was hoping for a baby, and asked me to give her luck. I don't generally think of myself as a walking fertility goddess so I was somewhat taken aback, and ended up just wishing her good luck before taking off to catch up with my family. I guess I should be grateful that she didn't ask to rub my belly (a pregnancy phenomenon that I really, really hate.) The whole thing left me feeling weird and uncomfortable, though.

Only eight more days to go, though. Here's hoping I make it through without either breaking anything of value or finding myself accidentally participating in pagan rituals.

I love a parade!

Beth, Claire and Abbie all joined Girl Scouts this year. Their first official Scouting activity was.......to march in a parade and toss candy!

Here we are at the very start of the parade yesterday, where the candy-throwing enthusiasm began.



I have pictures, too, now that we have a new camera, but I haven't bothered to figure out yet how to get them on the computer. In the meantime, here's another video. It's not great, but it shows the constant refrain of the day: DON'T THROW ALL YOUR CANDY AT ONCE! The kids had a really hard time with this - it was just too much fun. At one point policemen on motorcycles rode by, and we had to bodily restrain the girls from pelting them with candy. It was a frenzy of candy throwing, and what I loved the most about it was the way the littlest girls couldn't actually reach the sidewalk, so most of their candy just ended up getting trampled in the middle of the road.




This final video is from before the parade began, while we were lining up. For reasons beyond comprehension, they placed our pack of little girls directly behind a group of ....horses. You can probably guess the challenge this presented! The second refrain of the day was: DON'T STEP IN THE HORSE POOP! The girls actually did a great job, and the only incident involved not a little girl but a very pregnant woman who was paying more attention to the candy her daughter had just dropped than to where she was walking. Ahem.



All in all, though, it was a fantastic way to spend the morning and afternoon. I love the cheesiness of small-town parades, and I loved the feeling of community we had as we walked down the road and were greeted by tons of people we knew (through school, mostly, although my favorite coffee shop gave us a shout-out as well.) And Lucy really enjoyed the way the whole troop showered her and Katie with candy when we passed them.

Congratulations are in order...

...for the Lobers! When we came home from the parade, we found a message on our answering machine announcing the birth of their fifth baby and fourth son, Edward Jerome! We are so happy for you guys! We are doing our best to provide the world with wonderful women and it's a comfort to know that you are doing the same on the other side of the coin. :)

More about Abbie's first day of Kindergarten

We all wanted to hear Abbie's report about her first day of school, so at dinner the conversation mainly revolved around her. She told us about the teacher, who was nice, and the boys in her class, who she feels she could do without, and the other girls, several of whom she thinks could become friends.

She told us that the girls in her class quizzed each other over lunch, looking to see who had similar interests. One kid asked Abbie if she likes to color, which she does. Another girl asked her if she likes American Girl dolls, and Abbie said that she did. When it came time for Abbie to ask questions, though, this is what she did: She turned to the girl she liked the most and innocently asked her, "Do you like The Killers?"

The little girl did not know what she was talking about.

I think it is safe to say that Kindergarten may not be ready for the awesomeness that is Miss Abbie Mlinek. I bet the kids are really going to be impressed when she breaks out her Two Face impersonation:

Today....

* I am exactly three weeks away from having a new baby! Hooray!!! And Eeeek!

*The elementary school had it's back-to-school night, and with each passing year it feels like I am stuck in the circle of hell that's been reserved for obnoxious parents. It is the same thing every single year - the teachers say the same stuff, and then one or two parents badger them as the rest of us sit in increasingly irritated silence. If nothing else, Back-t0-School night leaves you with a feeling of mighty respect for the teachers who have to put up with this (nicely!) every.single.day.

*Chris did the math and realized that with Katie in Middle School now, a period of time has kicked off in which we will be up by 6am for the next 18 years. This was a truly vicious thing to point out, as far as I am concerned. One week down.......an infinity to go.

Yesterday was Abbie's first full day of Kindergarten. She hadn't yet met her teacher, so I decided to walk her to the classroom door in case she was feeling nervous at the thought of spending the entire day in the care of some stranger. We got out of the car, and I took both Abbie's and Lucy's hand as we crossed the crosswalk. The moment we went through the school doors, however, Abbie quietly but purposefully pulled her hand out of mine.

My hands are in general considered pretty hot real estate among the girls. My guess is that the scarce supply (having, as so many mothers like to point out, only two hands) for so much demand has led to most of my kids continuing to have a positive outlook towards hand-holding. The only exception to this is Katie, who at almost 11 has every right to walk around unassisted. Even Beth, though, will still grab my hand if it's free and the other girls all routinely argue over who gets to hold my hand and who has to be the caboose.

So I looked down in some surprise at Abbie when she pulled away. She looked calmly back up at me and just said, "I can walk by myself."

We came to her classroom door, and she walked right in without saying goodbye. Her teacher, taking pity on me as I stood in the doorway, pathetically, urged Abbie to say goodbye and she obeyed with a quick wave behind her back, no eye-contact, as she walked confidently over to her desk.

And that was that. Lucy and I left and went to a park, where we both felt weird spending so much one-on-one time together, and Abbie dominated her first day of Kindergarten. As, of course, I should have known she would.

It has cascading rhinestones

The cable guys just left, after having been here for half an hour or so. As I shut the door behind them, I brushed my hair behind my ear and made a horrible discovery.

I am wearing a sparkly, bedazzled blue hair clip. Lucy insisted that I put it on this morning, and I forgot all about it. Until just now, of course, when it's too late.

New Grade, New School, New life.

Hi, this is Katie. I'm back from my first day of survival. Middle School....am I supposed to find this word scary? Today, August 30, was my first day. Beth went into 4th and Claire into 2nd. Abbie starts kindergarten tomorrow. I will now explain classes and such.

Homeroom/English: I get off the bus and go to a gym until 7:40 then go to my locker. I walk up to the middle floor, in the new building*. I am in homeroom then have language arts. I stay there. My teacher is extremely nice. And guess what? Her name is Katie. And the student-teacher's name is also Katie!

World Cultures: Let's skip this one. I didn't have it. I was still in homeroom.

Band: I had a little trouble finding it. I mean, it's in the old building*! I play the flute. This class is on A days**. My teacher is really nice (to a certain degree) and I like my classmates. My teacher is my only male teacher. I hope I enjoy it.

Health: Nothing to say here. I have it tomorrow, on a B day**.

Lunch: *sigh*, this did not start out well. This was the only time I got lost. It's not really a class, but I feel that I should include it. I teamed up with another girl (she had a map) and we worked together. We ended up asking a teacher then found our way. This is also in the old building*!

Math: My teacher is really nice. I had a few problems in there (needed to see chalkboard, no sharpener, lost composition book(that was found)). The class is right by my locker! :)

Reading: I love, love, love, reading! The teacher remembered my name, she's nice and understanding, and is a perfect reading teacher! The class easy to find.

Gym: Don't get me started. Getting dressed in a cramped room with 44 girls, hot and sweaty, being paired up in many different ways, new locker combination ( I have mastered my first) , this will probably the worst part of the day. It's hard to find too, in THE OLD BUILDING*!!! I like the girls and the gym teacher, though.:)

Science: Ahh...the end of the day. The teacher is AWESOME!! She is funny and laughs and explains things very well. The class is easy to find. I only know 4 kids.

Dismissal***: Report to locker (Certain days may require me to pick up my flute). Go outside to side loop. Find bus. Save seat for BFF.

The Bus: I have to wake up at 6:00. There are some High School-ers on. They're not very appropriate. The bus driver is really nice. She is very observant and kind. My BFF, Natalie, rides the bus as well (Whoohoo!!). I then take the bus back home***.

I have art the second half of the year (instead of health). I really get hot and sweaty running around.
*There is the old building and an annex, the same size. It is a MAZE in the old building. I cannot find ANYTHING there! The annex is super easy to navigate.
**There are A days and B days. On A days I have band and on B days I have health. Everything else is the same.

You know your kids are awesome when....

...not one, not two, but THREE people at the museum approach you to gush about how well behaved they are, how sweetly they treat each other, and what an amazing family you have.

Then, as if that weren't enough, when you stop to take a video of a disturbing bunny in the "sculpture garden" they all, in unison and completely on their own volition, decide to act like a pack of zombies.

These girls are the best.

Whine!

I am craving eggs in the worst way, but I can't make myself eat them because they are a brand named in the recall. What I really want to do is run down to the farmer's market and buy real, deep-yolky free range eggs that I trust, but I won't be able to do that either. Instead, I am going to sit here and try to convince myself that I will be perfectly happy with cereal for breakfast. Stupid egg manufacturers. Don't they realize there are pregnant women out there who can't live without their morning egg?

Days in Rodanthe

This is what we were up to last week. I'm sure you'll understand if it takes us a few days to recover from all this relaxing.

7 quick takes from a big fat hypocrite

I am a hypocrite for two reasons here. #1, I am about to list my seven favorite forms of devotion as though I am actually in the habit of practicing these forms of devotion. #2, I always scoff at the idea of being an actual "blogger" both because I frequently go weeks where I forget to post stuff and also because...well, nobody reads this regularly (except my mom - thanks, Mom!) Chris will sometimes give me a hard time about being a Pretentious Blogger, but my defense is that I don't actually put work into my posts, I don't promote it, I haven't listed it anywhere, and I never participate in any blog-type networking.
Ah, until now, that is. I was surprised to find myself tagged by Simcha Fischer, who by the way has, like, the best blog going,* and now look at me - pleased as punch, figuring out links and things in my pathetic eagerness to impress the cool kids.

So without further ado, here are my 5 favorite forms of devotion, dovetailed into the 7 quick takes because I am not sure which one I was supposed to do:

---1---

The Rosary

I love the rosary, even though I often forget that fact and convince myself that it's too hard to say consistently. I'm pretty good about saying one a day while nursing babies who keep me pinned to the couch for half hour stretches, but I have a terrible tendency to fall out of the habit once the convenience is over. I find, though, that when I do say a rosary every day my perception of life in general is much better. Mark Shea, another Catholic writer I really like, said something a while ago about the rosary being a success story** that really hit home for me. I have inherited the pessimistic Irish gloom of my family, and it can be very easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking that the world is nothing but a vale of tears. The rosary is a way of re-living, over and over and over again, the reality that the vale of tears is really just a part of the story: ultimately good triumphs over evil and peace and joy actually prevail. That is so cool, it's hard to believe it's for real. And that, of course, is why it is good to say the rosary over and over and over. I need this beat into my head or I'm apt to forget it.

---2---
Adoration

Long ago, during my first semester in college, I accidentally signed up for adoration in the middle of the night. (I didn't notice that pesky little a.m. beside the 3.) It turned into one of my favorite things, though. Sitting in the quiet chapel, completely alone, made my time in front of the Eucharist feel very, very personal. Even when I fell asleep which, to my shame, I did more than once.

I think it was going to adoration that first drew my heart towards the Church. My mom used to take me to St. Paul's Monastery in Pittsburgh when I was very little, and I absolutely fell in love with kneeling in the semi-dark church, surrounded by flickering red candles and a peaceful quiet that can be found nowhere else. Now-a-days, though, it's just plain old hard to get there. Our parish has perpetual adoration on Fridays, but between school and nap schedules I've never found an available time-slot that we can make. Remembering my own lovely childhood experience, I take the girls once in a while for a "quick visit" where we stay for maybe 10 minutes, but I've found that staying an entire hour can be very taxing on the younger ones. Whenever I manage to get there for an hour myself, though -- I really do enjoy it. It's that peaceful quiet, it just gets me every time. Just yesterday, I spent the day at the Catholic Writer's conference, and they had set up a little adoration chapel. I found myself going in multiple times, and I reminded myself of the girls who often climb up beside Chris or me when we are sitting on the couch. They don't ask us to do anything; they just want to sit close to us, and when they feel ready they'll run back to whatever game they were playing. That's what adoration is like.

I need to make getting there more of a priority.

---3---
Confession

I hate going to confession. It's always inconvenient, it's awkward, and for some mysterious reason (because I am not always terribly sad) it makes me cry every single time, which leaves me feeling horribly conspicuous when I exit the confessional. However, it takes a huge load off. I always wish I hadn't suggested going on our way in, but I am always glad on our way out.

---4---
Praying for the dead

This is an a devotion I can actually claim to do consistently. Saying the "Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord" prayer is something I automatically do whenever I pass a graveyard (and I live right down the street from one, so I at least say it a couple of times a day.)

I can't remember where I got the idea, but I say 5 Apostles Creeds, 1 Hail Holy Queen, and an Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be for friends, family, and people I feel compelled to pray for in purgatory every day (unless I forget to.) I like to take advantage of the whole Communion of Saints thing, and it's easier to make friends with the dead than it is with the irritating living. Does that make me seem psychotic? If you read the passage in The Brothers Karamazov where Fr. Zosimov talks about the importance of praying for those who have died each day, it makes it sound better.

---5---
Blessing my Family

This is another tradition that grew from something my mom did. (See, Mom? I did listen to you sometimes!) Every night before bed, I ask for a blessing on my house and each of member of my family. I used to make sort of a production out of it, naming all sorts of evils etc. that I wanted us to be protected from, but now I just ask Christ to give us the grace to love Him always, no matter what happens.

---6---
This one doesn't have a name

Long ago, I took a class by a wonderful priest named Fr. Mastroeni. He was an excellent teacher, but intimidating as hell. I would literally pray every morning before class that he wouldn't call on me, because to not answer perfectly brought a withering scorn like nothing you have ever seen. (Turns out, deep down Fr. Mastroeni was a big softie. When my friend Monica accidentally slept through our Final Exam, she faced him in tears, sure that he was going to fail her for the class. Instead, he let her take the exam later - in secret, because he didn't want to ruin his reputation as the hardest of hard-noses.) Anyway, he always began class with this prayer:

Direct O Lord all our actions, by your holy inspirations
and carry them on by your gracious assistance so
that every prayer and work of our may always begin from You
And by You be happily ended through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The girls and I say this prayer every morning. They don't feel like they've started the day properly without it. Thanks, Fr. Mastroeni!

---7---
Muttering and Sputtering

Remember when I said praying for the dead was the one I do most consistently? That's a lie. This is the "devotion" I am most consistent with. It boils down to me saying, throughout each day, things like, "I'm an idiot, God! Help me" or "help me to not dwell on this grievance," or "give me patience with this ridiculous kid!" Occasionally, I'll even manage something like, "thank you, God, for this sunset, or this sweet little girl, or this wonderful meal that my husband made for us and please-don't-let-me-get-irritated-with-the-mess-he-just-made-in-my-kitchen." A lot of times, I won't say coherent prayers at all, I'll just kind of....think about God, or sort of dwell on this or that thing that I read. I think this is what Peter Kreeft means when he talks about "practicing the presence of God," but I suspect Dr. Kreeft does it better than I do.

* I actually saw SinCity- in the theater!- and liked it, though.
** I spent forever looking for the quote about how the rosary is a success story, but for the life of me I can't find it. I am positive that I did not hallucinate it, though. It exists somewhere!

Also I can't figure out the linky thing, so here's just a plain ol' link to the blog that does the 7 quick takes, Conversion Diary, another one of my favorite blogs. I promised the girls milkshakes tonight, since I made them such a half-hearted dinner, and they are about to mutiny so I cannot spend any more time trying to figure this out!

Not enough names, too many opinions

We have finally nailed down a name for this baby.
It took a while because....well, we're running out of names we love. Things were getting so grim that we very seriously considered naming this baby Penelope (which is a name we both really like) even though it would mean that her nickname would make it look like we named her after my childhood dog (Penny. I really did love Penny.)

Anyway, we officially told the girls today what her name will be. What we did not expect was Lucy's very forceful reaction.

"No!" she yelled at us, covering her face with her hands, "I hate that horrible name!!!"

Chris managed to diffuse the situation by suggesting a nickname. I am not personally fond of it, but it works with Lucy. So, as of right now, her plan is to call her new sister "Uth."

Oasis

We are gearing up this week for our trip to the Outer Banks, something that in my mind has been synonymous with the close of summer. When we get back, we'll have just two weeks until school begins and then six more weeks until this baby is due.

Whew.

This has been a really nice summer. I woke up this morning (note that I "woke up" not that I "was woken up," a little difference in verb tense that makes a gigantic difference in reality) around 9am and the only ones awake were Katie and Beth, who were both contentedly watching tv in the basement. By 10am everyone was awake and moving, and by 10:30 breakfast had been served to everyone and the dishes cleaned up. It is now 11:30, and I have spent that solid hour (a whole hour!) just puttering around, left to my own devices. When I am done here, we will throw on bathing suits and hang out by the pool for a few hours. Lunch will probably just be some yogurt and fruit served on the porch, and after I've played all our usual games I am hoping that Lucy will allow me to spend some time working on a story I've been writing for fun. She will most likely give me no trouble.

This will all be over in two weeks; we will be getting up much earlier, we will have much less leisure time, we will be a little more stressed. That's fine, really. A huge part of what has made this summer so heavenly is the fact that it has been such a rare treat. Everybody sleeps through the night, nobody needs naps, there are no diapers to change, no babies to feed, everyone can dress themselves (mostly) and find their own games to play. I have actually been getting a full night's sleep every single night. It has literally been over a decade since I could say that. I'm going to repeat this, because it makes me feel good to acknowledge it: it has been over a decade since I have been able to get a full night's sleep consistently.

I have really enjoyed it.

I feel, too, like we really needed this sweet, simple summer filled with slow mornings and lazy afternoons. In two weeks, the pace is about to quicken quite a bit. In eight weeks, all hell is going to break loose. That might seem like a nasty way to describe the advent of a new baby, but let's be honest: it's true. I will not be sleeping, something that I can now see - now that I am not perpetually exhausted - affects me profoundly. We will be juggling the schedules of a newborn, a highly opinionated 3 year old, three elementary school students, and a brand new middle-schooler. Chris' work schedule is more hectic than ever before and is not likely to calm down in the next six months. Katie is looking into joining a few clubs next year, and Beth, Claire and Abbie are all starting Girl Scouts. We are going to be busy. Really busy.

But it's okay. This summer has served as a glorious reminder that things can eventually ease up. That even life with a houseful of young children can offer up periods of peace and tranquility. This has been a summer to catch up on things: disorganized corners, sleep, our breath. Maybe it's the calm before the storm, but it is also a reminder that there is a calm after the storm as well.

So right now I am going to finish my coffee and enjoy the quiet, empty living room without guilt. This is not permanent. I just need to remember, when the baby has been up all night and someone needs cupcakes for a class party and someone else needs help with homework, all before someone else needs to be picked up from someplace inconvenient, that it, too, will not be permanent. These seasons are going to ebb and flow, just like the ocean we are about to visit, and the key is going to be finding the ways to best ride out each phase.

I am grateful for the chance to still my breathing, because I see the next wave coming and I am ready to catch it.

Non-swimming summer activities

Here are a few things, other than swimming, we've done this summer:

We went to a minor league baseball game:




We have been watching lots of shows, many of them heavily influenced by Lucy's recent preoccupation with "The Karate Kid 2" :



And today we had a girls afternoon out at a Victorian tea house! The girls brought their "lady manners" and absolutely dominated in their fancy hats. It was a ton of fun, super girlie, and really highlights (for me) the advantages of having daughters!

Every Minute, Every Second... (by Katie)

I can't stop thinking about it... the beach! On August 7 we leave for North Carolina. I don't think I can wait any longer. I've taken taken my old 4th grade journal and devoted the empty pages to my "documents". I've made a sketch of the floor plans, explained them, labeled them, wrote lists of what I need to bring, games to play, what to do for 8 hours in the car, interviewed the girls, and now I am keeping a diary untill we go and leave. Oh...I have also wrote letters to relatives ( I hope you appreciate them, It took me hours!). On the floor plans I move a pencil across it, pretending it's me and I'm there : It's actually very entertaining :-). So now I have made a grocery store, park, etc. I hope that they will keep me entertained long enough in the car. The girls have made me make them floor plans. I seriously can't stop thinking about it! I think it's the only thing I live for right now. We come back August 14. The only problem is (besides the car ride) that my BFF leaves for a two week vacation today and comes back when we leave! We'll be seperated for 3 weeks! That's torture to me and her! But when I go for my vacation it should hopefully keep my mind off it. I love knowing something where just the thought of it lights a warm fire in my heart. Today I'll enjoy myself swimming then going to a baseball game ( some Volt guy is going to be there). Life right now is sweet . :P

Impressive beginning, strange conclusion

Here is a literal transcript from an actual conversation. I have no comment on it because....there's just no way to comment on it.

Chris: What are you looking at Lucy?
Lucy: Map.
Chris: Oh, nice.
Lucy: Look - here's California!
Chris: How in the world do you know where California is?
Lucy: It's California!
Chris: Well, I'm really impressed. Where did you learn that?
Lucy: Hot dogs!
Chris: What?
Lucy: Sometimes hot dogs can come alive.

End of an Era

11 years ago, I was working at a daycare in Wintersville, OH. I was somehow or other under the impression that McDonald's milkshakes were an acceptable form of calcium during pregnancy, and I was spending my very first few days alone while Chris was in Baltimore on a business trip.

I left work on a Friday, picked up Vanessa, the fiancee of Chris' friend (or she picked me up, I can't remember now), made a stop at McDonald's for Fish Fillet Sandwiches and (of course) a milkshake, and headed out to Baltimore to meet our guys. This girl and I had met before, but this was the first time we had spent any real amount of time together, and it felt important for us to get along because it was looking like my husband and her husband-to-be were going to be relocated, taking us to a strange city where just about the only people we would know would be each other.

That was 11 years ago. I wish I could go back and tell my old self, nervous about a 5 hour drive with someone I barely knew, that it would all be okay. "She is one day going to pressure you into joining a gym," I would tell myself, "and you will love it! You will both be pregnant at the same time soon, and your kids are going to be great friends. One day both of your husbands are going to feel bad about spending all night playing computer games together, and they will buy you matching KitchenAid mixers to apologize. You will borrow recipes from, swap old-wives-tales with, and meet this woman at coffee shops late at night when you are both desperate and in need of adult conversation. You are going to spend Christmases, New Years, Thanksgivings and Easters with these people, and it is what is going to make this new city feel like Home."

These are the things I was thinking about when the Lobers came over after church on Sunday for the last time, ever. Our kids played their last game of whatever-it-is, some Indian/super-hero hybrid thing that can only be played satisfactorily in each others' company, and we sat around the table and talked, laughing with and at each other in the casual way that has grown up between us. By the end of this week, the Lobers will be gone, off to a better job, a super-sweet house, and a family support system that has always haunted them. Because they are like family to us, because we love them we are very, deeply happy for them. Because they are like family to us, and because we love them we are also sad to see them go.

As they pulled out of our driveway last Sunday, I used Chris' shirt to dry my eyes and he patted me on the head. "It was a good run, " he said to me, "People these days don't usually get so long before moving on." He was right. It was a good run, and like all good things it had to come to an end. We will miss them sorely, but I am grateful for the years' worth of memories and friendship that we have built up with them, and we wish them all the luck in the world as they move on to the next phase in their lives.

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.