Happy St Patty's Day!

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

I freaking loved it.

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

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

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

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


My favorite Irish cop (and Uncle Ron.)

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

a letter to Beth from our neighbor

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

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

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

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

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

My New Year's Eve Tradition

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


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

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

In the car this morning

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

Yes, she really did say, "stench."

My gift to you (sort of)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Found objects

Discovered laying around the kitchen:

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

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

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

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

Romance

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

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

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

It was very romantic.

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

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

Here you go, Andy!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She likes what she sees

Abbie, to her reflection in the mirror:

You are golden!

I am golden!

I love you, golden girl!

She then blew herself a kiss and wandered away.

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

It's all over, baby

Lucy is officially walking.

She is nine months old.

Heaven help us.

Outside of the Castle of Miracles

Outside of the Castle of Miracles
Originally uploaded by moleshollow

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

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

Flickr

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

Time for a break

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

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

trying to wink

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

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

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

The healing power of Rock-n-Roll

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

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

Why? Because of this:




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

The view from my room

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

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

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

Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland

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

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

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