How I manage to make dinner

These are the moments I live for lately: onions sauteing on the stove, good music in the background, surrounded by the girls playing peacefully.

And now for something completely different

Here is Claire doing her "Irish accent."
It makes me smile.

Whoever coined the phrase...

..."Sleeping like a baby" was a blithering idiot who obviously never spent any time around an actual baby.

What any parent of a newborn knows (and what I somehow manage to forget right before getting pregnant, every single time) is this: babies don't sleep.

Babies don't sleep. Ever. Unless, of course, you count the times when they sleep through feedings, and the times when they sleep snugly in your arms. Sleep, though, in the way most humans view it - consisting of even breathing, solitude, and unconsciousness for more than 15 minutes at a time - yeah, newborns don't do that

Luckily for me, Lucy has been sleeping through the night for a while now so I did not blunder into this "No Sleep for You!" thing pre-exhausted. Unluckily for me, the recovery from my c-section has been a little trickier this time and I have not been able to nurse the baby in bed, nor hold her while I lay down. These two things mean: I'm in pretty good spirits, but I am tired as all get out.

Chris took Ruth when he came home from work today, so that I could get a few hours of sleep before my next all-night-infomercial marathon (have you seen the YUDU? That thing looks awesome!) And you know what? I did not sleep like a baby.
I slept much, much better.

Ruth sucks her thumb

None of our other babies have done this, but it is pretty adorable.

Introducing Ruth Miriam!!!!

Well, this post is very overdue! Baby Ruth, however, was not - born a week early, weighing in at a teensy (for our kids) 6lbs 9 oz. She came into the world quietly and intensely alert, casting a surprised and bewildered look around her, a look that she has not yet lost. She spends her very few times of wakefulness each day looking around her with a, "Where in the world am I? How did I get here?" kind of curiosity.

We've been home a little over a week now, and although we haven't really settled into a routine yet (mostly due to the pain-killer stupor I've been in) everyone is doing great. Not to sound too Pollyanna, but the girls are all very excited about the new baby, and are handling the off-kilter routine really well. Lucy is nuts about Ruth, insisting on giving her sloppy/slimy kisses every few minutes and taking on "diaper duty" (bringing new ones and throwing the old ones away) with gusto. Woe to anyone who has the audacity to change a diaper without her assistance!

It is weird for us to have such a tiny baby this time around. Ruth was born a week before her due-date, which puts her five weeks earlier than Abbie and three weeks earlier than almost everyone else. We've realized that we aren't actually used to newborns, since most of our other babies were so overdue, born with clear eyes and chubby, chubby legs and a fluidity of movement that Ruth can't quite muster yet. She is so small, and moves her head and arms in such a herky-jerky way that it is sometimes hard to believe she is real. She looks more like an animatronic baby than a real one. To boot, she has this habit of holding her hands up to her face and with the mittens she wears to protect her skin from her tiny nails, she looks exactly like Henrietta Pussycat from Mr. Rogers - small and adorable and cuddly and vulnerable. We all can't help but dissolve into puddles at her feet.



Ruth has not been around for a full two weeks yet, but somehow it is already impossible to imagine life, or our family, without her. This is one of the miraculous things about having babies that I will never get over - that instantaneous, gut-wrenching love that binds you to this tiny stranger, this minature, barely responsive person who somehow causes you to feel the most intense kind of protectiveness just by the way she opens her mouth, trusting that someone will love her enough to place some kind of food in there.

I'll be posting more pictures and videos over the next few days, but I don't think I can be blamed if I choose, instead, to spend my free time looking down at the even breathing of this new, amazing little baby who has come to help us become, as a family, who we were meant to be.


*By the way - yes, that blue curtain in the first picture is hiding the fact that my guts were at that moment still splayed all over the table. Isn't that a weird thought?

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!