Tidbits

Dh has had to be into work early all this week, and he has been working pretty late. This means long days for everyone... especially me. Luckily these little ones make me laugh.

On the way home from our Children's Holy Hour, I told Catie if she couldn't do as I asked she'd have to write "I will be obedient" fifty times. Being the demanding mom I am, she would even have to look in the dictionary to figure out how to spell obedient. She claims she already knows how to spell it and begins rattling off letters, but is clearly getting it wrong. Juju interrupts her and says nuh-uh that's not how you spell it, it's E-I-E-I-O, in her all-knowing tone of voice.

During the Hour of Mercy, I was roped into holding a large banner as the little kids (1st grade and younger) processed around the hall singing a Litany of the Saints. In the hustle and bustle I lost track of little Gabe. I found him later in the line of children processing as well as the older children, hands folded and singing along, "Pray for us." He followed the line all the way to the sanctuary, hands folded, quietly in line. My heart melted.

The boys have taken advantage of the long days and have been even more mischievous, but they know how to score points with Mom. While scavenging the cupboards and counters, they overlooked the multitude of leftover Halloween candy and sequestered themselves in the laundry room with an entire container of grape tomatoes. At first I thought to myself how can I be upset about them eating tomatoes and not candy? Then I had to clean the mess on the rug in the laundry room. I am still finding random tomato seeds. I also had to change the multitude of diapers that followed... OY!

In the midst of all this, I have had two or three vivid reminders that the time we have with our children is shorter than we think. Right now the days seem long, I fall into bed exhausted and I wake too early still tired. My patience is thin, and the general noise level here seems decibels too high. Still, how blessed I am to have these children, to have another day with them, to have the comforts and opportunities we are given each day. They bring more joy than fatigue. I don't want to miss these moments one day, I want to enjoy them today.

The pictures are totally random and from a walk in a downtown park almost a month ago... I just can't seem to keep up.

All On a Friday Afternoon

Before lunch I asked Bophie to pick up a few pencils that had rolled under the kitchen table. I asked again before putting lunch on the table, and again while cleaning up lunch, and again later in the afternoon. Her response? She didn't hear me...

However, later this afternoon, while I was running the vacuum (imagine the noise), and she was clear across the house, I quietly told the baby I would be happy to get him a cup of milk. She came skedoodling as fast as her five-year old feet would carry her and asked, "Can I have some?"

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And after an hour and a half of asking this little one to take a nap, I relented and let her come downstairs. Lest you think I'm a softy, I only relented for fear of her waking the napping boys. That would only punish me.

This is what I found five minutes after relenting.

Neighbors

I mowed the lawn on this gorgeous day. In a reversal of roles, I mowed the lawn and dh fed the kids lunch and cleaned the kitchen. It works for us. I like the hour and a half of alone-ness, the buzz of the mower and blaring playlist from my mp3 player mean no interruptions, and I get some exercise. Dh gets more time with the kids and to gain an appreciation for how my days go. It felt good to get out after the heat has kept us indoors the last few weeks.

As I was mowing, I came across this little scene:

It is part of an elaborate world my girls make for themselves in our backyard. Their imaginings keep them busy for many an afternoon. It reminded me of how I now have my own "world" that keeps me quite busy. I seem to always be trying to get it just right. It sometimes takes so much to keep everything running smoothly (ok, I'm not sure we've seen smooth in quite awhile) that I get caught up in project after project that I forget the world around me.

We live in this house that I strive to make a home. Our little bubble away from the hustle and bustle of the world, a safe refuge from storms. It can be easy to forget that this street is lined with families, each with their own struggles, their own stories, their own lives.

Today we found out that our next door neighbor, a man who told me he was so happy to have our swingset near his fence so he could listen to our children play, a man who takes the girls and helps them pick his excess tomato crop to bring to us, a father and a grandfather, a husband of many years, has only two to four weeks to live. As I mowed the lawn I watched a seemingly endless line of friends and family go in and out of their house. I imagine the next few weeks will see quite a bit of that.

Somehow I was brought back to that little world my children created, and the seemingly bigger world I try to create, and the even bigger world that has been this man's life. I wondered if God saw his life with the affection I felt towards those little reminders of my children's endeavors.

 I will be praying for him, for his wife, and his family.

Wordless Wednesday

--First Fruits of the Garden Edition--

Spreading the News

Yesterday I had the pleasure of telling Joseph's speech therapist that we are in the process of adopting another little one from China. We have shared this news with friends and family who are for the most part pretty supportive. They think we are a little crazy, we have already gone from three children to six in a very short period of time.  I think we are a little crazy too, but in a good way. It was difficult to bring this up to the speech therapist, though, because the reaction I get from most is that we are really truly crazy, and not in a good way.

I mentioned before that I am overwhelmed. Some moments are very difficult. You know those moments. A few months ago just minutes after I finished the monumental task of making every bed in the house (after washing every piece of bedding we owned), Joseph got a bloody nose while going down for a nap-- ten short minutes after I made his bed.  I thought I was going to cry. Then Juju had an accident and pooped in her bed, pooped in the bed I had just finished making, hospital corners and everything. All that work and I was now going to spend the afternoon re-washing more bedding, not to mention bathing two toddlers who should be napping. It had taken a week to get the original bedding done and I did cry then.

That moment is by no means isolated either. I have several a day. Moments where I feel as though I could use ten more hands, I need to change a diaper, wipe a nose, refill a sippy cup, help someone diagram a sentence, and answer a question about the periodic table of elements. Moments where my patience is strained from bickering, and sometimes it breaks from the sheer volume, there are six of them--one of me. Moments where I just want to scream "Calgon, take me away!" Moments where dead birds land on my back porch and I think to myself this isn't what I signed up for.

One could mistake those moments of chaos for unhappiness. I admit, sometimes I let them get the better of me. Then I get a wake up call. A little one who wraps both arms tight around me and "kisses" my cheek, a toddler who learns to say "MMMMommy" after so much work to get the sounds correct, a girl who wants nothing but to hold my hand, another girl who learns to make coffee so she can surprise me in the morning. Yesterday, one of my girls told me I was definitely going to heaven because all mothers of six children must go to heaven. Sometimes just a smile from one of them changes my whole outlook on life.

Yes, with six little ones and another in the works, life is more hectic. I have less "me" time. I never seem to accomplish that daily To Do List. I often feel frazzled. Conventional wisdom would leave one to think I must be unhappy,  but the truth is I am happier than I have ever been. With each little person, made in the image of God, we bring into this house we invite another piece of heaven. Each little one gives me the opportunity to grow closer to God by loving and providing for them. They provide an opportunity to grow holier, and therefore more peaceful and more joyful. Not in the worldly sense of peace and joy, rather in the heavenly sense.

We have soccer games every night this week, difficult appointments, a grueling school schedule, and my house is already in shambles from last week. There has also been a streak of all my best laid plans going awry. For two weeks now it seems my will has been thwarted at every turn, I'm not sure why I bother with a calendar.  Still there is peace, there is joy that material things and "me time" could never bring. Each child brings a unique joy to our home and family, the extra work is a blessing and a small price to pay for that joy.

When dh and I began discussing another adoption, we both were struck with the thought that in as little as ten years from now, we might regret not having done all we could to bring home another little one, but we would never regret having adopted one more. One of dh's favorite memories of his grandfather is of him at many family gatherings looking out at all the children and grandchildren saying something like, "Look what Lil and I started!"  Sure the work might seem overwhelming now, but God has always given us the graces we need and we will count on them again. In a few short years, this difficult season will have passed and we will have the lifelong blessing of another child.

Joseph's speech therapist politely offered her congratulations. I'm pretty sure she thought we were crazy though... I'll choose to think it's crazy in a good way and continue to count my blessings.

These thoughts were prompted by two fantastic posts: 
It's Never a Good Time to Have Kids
Life Doesn't Have to be Easy to be Joyful

Both well worth a read.

The Month of February

Bitten by the love bug?

Not us, not this month. Instead we've been hit by the flu bugs! First up was a nasty stomach bug, now it is the cough and fever bug. On top of that, we are cooped up from snow and sickness and it is starting to wear on all of us.

The girls are bickering. The little ones are restless. I am ready for March and Spring and yes even Lent. Last night I came across this little prayer and it reminded me that there are just a few more days of February to endure.

God of our life,
There are days when
The burdens we carry
Chafe our shoulders
And weigh us down;
When the road seems
Dreary and endless,
The skies
Gray and threatening;
When our lives have no music in them,
And our hearts are lonely,
And our souls
Have lost their courage.
Flood the path with light,
Run our eyes to where
The skies are full of promise;
Tune our hearts to brave music,
Give us the sense of comradeship
With heroes and saints of every age,
And so quicken our spirits
That we may be able to encourage
The souls of all who journey with us
On the road of life,
To your honor and glory.

Saint Augustine.

Mt. Never-Rest

Mt. Never-Rest is the name Banana fittingly gave the pile of laundry that grows on my couch after it is removed from the dryer and awaits me folding it and having the girls take it upstairs. I used to call it Mt. Washmore, but her title seems more apropos.

In a house of six children, laundry piles up fast. Throw in the stomach flu we passed around last week and the laundry piled up exponentially. All week my poor machines have huffed and puffed. Thankfully we replaced them recently, so the new guys were up for the challenge.

This afternoon, I worked and worked and finally all the laundry was washed, dried, folded, and even put away. I was basking in a chore completed. Now, less than three hours later, all the kids are in their jammies and in bed, but their laundry bins are no longer empty.

Mt. Never-Rest indeed...

Some Day We'll All Laugh Over This

Right?

This week I faced one of my greatest fears, and now we are crawling out from under the rabble. On Monday, right before dinner it began with little Bophie, followed with poor Juju, then in the middle of the night it struck sweet GabyBaby. By Wednesday it had knocked me for a loop, and then dragged down poor Bear who spent the night on a rug in my bathroom. Yes, the dreaded stomach bug. It had been going around and I knew there was little chance of escape.

I thought we had done a pretty good job of maintaining some order during this chaos. As soon as it started on Monday, I began washing any dirty laundry I could find knowing it would mount exponentially as more children got sick, and it did. So far it has skipped Banana who has been an amazing help in all this ordeal. She kept little ones entertained, she cleaned, she liked pretending to be the babysitter. All this helped to keep things fairly together.

Still the laundry has been piled on the couch all week in various stages of being folded and put away upstairs. The house is for the most part tidy, but in no way clean. Then there is my appearance. I am sure no one feels glamorous when stricken with the flu, but having the flu and trying to tend to other little ones with the flu left me particularly out of sorts.

So imagine my HORROR surprise when last night the doorbell rang. Thinking it was probably just some sort of door-to-door salesman, I did my best to hide out of sight. Turns out, I wasn't that lucky. In fact I am not sure I could think of a worse scenario. It was our social worker. She was there for Joseph's one year post adoption report. I had scheduled it weeks ago, but for some reason thought it was Wednesday night and that dh must have canceled it knowing I was down for the count. Actually, dh had forgotten all about it.

So there she was. There wasn't even a place for her to sit. A sick child laying on one couch, Mt. Neverest of laundry on the other. Various piles of folded laundry scattered throughout the rest of the room. I was in jammies (not even nice ones), with bedhead, no makeup, changing another of the endless diapers that follow a stomach bug, with no place to hide, no rock to crawl under. To add to that it was bedtime for four children in various stages of recovery in no mood to have Mom and Dad have a conversation with someone else. Alas, she was there, and the report had to be done.

We answered questions, the kids did surprisingly well. She sat on the floor doing her best not to touch a single thing in our germ-infested house. When at last that act of humility came to an end, we closed the door, put the kids to bed, and went to bed ourselves hoping that sleep would help.

Some day I'll laugh about this, right?

Time Out

Look at this sweet boy.

Those who know my house, may have guessed he might be sweet but he's not so innocent. They probably recognize that he has not found a cozy spot to nap, but rather was relegated to the "Time-Out" stairs. Some blog followers may recognize the stairs too. They are used quite frequently these days.

Today they were used when that sweet boy waited until I was occupied putting the baby down for a nap. Then that darling boy snuck into my pantry and found the pancake syrup and a paper plate. He then filled the paper plate with syrup, only it wouldn't hold all the syrup. So he let it spill out all over the coffee table, and then he watched as it ran off the coffee table onto the floor (dh, if you are reading this, take a deep breath, then be thankful it was in the piano room and only got onto the wood floor not the carpet, and I managed to clean the whole mess. Also, dh, we could use another bottle of syrup for the wonderful leftover pancakes the kids are looking forward to for breakfast tomorrow.). The syrup looked so good as it made delicate designs on my coffee table that my adorable little son decided to stick both his hands in the plate and try to lap it up. This left him, all his clothes, and the floor, further covered in the sticky mess.

It's a good thing that boy is so darn cute when he sleeps. Otherwise, I might not have been so understanding when less than ten minutes after the syrup incident was cleaned, I found myself cleaning up the brown sugar from his attempts to reorganize my lazy susan. No wonder he fell asleep in time out today, he has spent his fair share of time there.

Since I needed a little bright spot in the day, Gabe decided to flash his best "ham-it-up-the-camera-is-on-me" smile. The cuteness is almost unbearable.
Little Gabe, though, has me wishing for a time out. He is all-Mommy all the time right now. Whenever anyone threatens to take him from my arms he clings to me with two fist fulls of hair, especially the little hairs on the back of the neck. The few times I get him down, he clamors trying to climb up my leg. My only respite comes when he is somewhat placated by food. Then sometimes he just collapses.

They sure are cute when they sleep :)

This and That

Yesterday, as dh was mopping the floor, the baby was crying, and the two year olds were creating quite a rabble, Bophie was playing with her new doll. This doll talks to her, it cries, tells her she wants to be fed, coos for a kiss, and even lets you know she needs a potty-- all in four different languages. In the chaos, Bophie turns to me and says, "I really wish this doll would just speak up!" Bophie has some extra fluid in her ears, which didn't help the cause. She will be having tubes put in her ears in a few weeks, I am hoping this will help the doll "speak up."
Speaking of dolls, Juju also got a new doll for Christmas. She and Bophie found a stash of old diapers and asked if they could put them on their dolls. I relented just to see the smiles it brought them. There is something about a little girl and her doll. The diaper was a little to big for Juju's doll and after 3 or 4 minutes it began to fall off. Juju picked up the doll and said, "O pap." Right then I was thankful that this little girl often needs a Mommy translator, because at least when out in public, most people would not know that my sweet, two-year-old, adorable little girl just said "Oh crap!" in a tone that strangely mimics that of her mother.
The older girls are on the hunt for a missing library book. A library book that happens to be on dh's library card. Last night, we knew we had allowed bed time to stretch too late when they became a little too upset about the missing book. An emotional Banana asked if I had ever lost a library book. Me, lose a library book? The most egregious story in this category is the library book I lost my senior year of college. The one I swore I returned and refused to pay the fine. The one that held up the reception of my degree. I fought up and down, certain that book was in a pile of returned books. Years later, during a move, I was reminded of my profound need for humility when I found that book. I consider sharing this story as an act of humility made in reparation for the pridefulness displayed then.

Finally, all these tidbits display little ways my dh has shown how much he loves me. He was done with dolls for Christmas. It was the only thing he did not want to buy this year and yet three of my girls received dolls. He was mopping the floor. He only teases me a little about the kids picking up my poor mannerisms and sayings (of course thankful they weren't picking up his). He also was incredibly patient with me as he was thrust in the middle of my library book debacle. More than all these things, though, his love for me was abundantly clear when I came down this morning to find a pot of coffee, piping hot, waiting for me in the carafe. He doesn't even drink coffee and yet, for the third time this week, it was ready and waiting for me when I came downstairs. It honestly doesn't get any better than that!

Back in the Saddle Again

Ridin' the range once more (by range I mean the cooktop)
Totin' my old .44 (by .44 I mean 44 ounces of coffee)
Where you sleep out every night (sleep out? more like get no sleep all night)
And the only law is right (six kids who each think they're right, and one mom who has to decide who is)
Back in the saddle again

While today is the eighth day of Christmas, it is the first day back to work for dh and although we are not beginning school today, it is the first day back to working for me. For one glorious beautiful week I had dh at home. We didn't go anywhere, we didn't do any major projects, we just enjoyed the holiday. That was busy enough. I sort of caught up on sleep. I had a break from cooking and diaper duties. We read, we played games, we baked, we ate, we enjoyed having our little ones playing around us. It was wonderful.

I obviously took a needed break from blogging. The truth is I started a few posts, but I was too busy, too sleep deprived, and too distracted to put anything worthwhile out there. This Christmas I took a much needed semi-break from the computer. I've thought of going back to post about our wonderful holidays, especially some beautiful pictures, but am not sure I will have the time. For now, it will just have to be back to blogging about everyday life.

A Snapshot of My Morning

• Get everyone up, dressed, and breakfasted.
• Start older girls finishing up school so we can start our Christmas break.
• Sort through box of new sweaters and dresses from Grandma for our Christmas pictures.
• Double check my Christmas sweater will arrive today for Christmas pictures.
  
• Locate appropriate pants, tights, hair clips, socks, skirts, undershirts, etc to go with sweaters for six kids so I am ready for Christmas pictures.
• Plan bath time, hair cuts, and laundry so we are ready for Christmas pictures.
• Walk around the house looking for any appropriate spot to hold a family of eight for Christmas pictures.
  
• Vacuum stairs in preparation for Christmas pictures.
  

and then:

• Clean up blood, and ice down goose egg on a little boy's forehead, because tomorrow we take Christmas pictures.

I'm No Supermom

I'm just a regular soccer mom...

Last night Banana had her last practice for the fall season. Her team was the regular season champs and are headed into the tournament in the #1 seed. This is really fantastic for a team that didn't win a game last season. I am so proud of her. She is working harder each day to be better at something that doesn't come easy for her. She may never be the best soccer player on the team, but I am truly impressed with her diligence and good attitude.

Since we home school, soccer is my one affiliation with other moms in our community. I am blessed to have a wonderful home schooling support network, as well as a parish that is chock full of large families. These sometimes become a little bubble world for me. Soccer takes me out of that bubble. I am forced to confront society at large. Except that by society at large I mostly mean the middle class, suburban, society that is my local community.

I have a rule that when meeting someone new I can mention that I have six children, OR I can mention that I home school. However, it is in my best interest not to divulge both in a single conversation. Either one of those things is so out of the norm for these soccer moms, that one can be somewhat explained, both must mean I am a certifiable.

Thankfully no one has been downright rude (OK, one of the soccer dads said, "Ohhhh, you're one of those crazy people" when I said we homeschooled-- of course following my rule, he had no idea I had six children. I just blew him off.). Mostly I hear things like, "You must be supermom." "You must have a lot of patience." "I could never do that." or worse, "You must be a saint."

What am I supposed to say to that? Do I offer some half hearted, even if it is true, rebuff at my parenting skills? Something that lets them know I'm no expert, and occasionally (truthfully, quite frequently) make just as many parenting mistakes as the next soccer mom. Do I mention how little patience I have, especially in those moments where the baby is fussing, Joseph is again playing in the toilet, while I am attempting to give a spelling test to Bear, Banana is asking some Math question, and Juju and Bophie are again bickering over a doll that is adding its own silly cries to the rabble that seems to be growing louder by the minute? Really, does anyone want to hear that? Do I really want to divulge those gory details of family life to practical strangers? (Better to divulge them to complete strangers by posting on the Internet :) )

On the other hand, I could agree with them, tell them I am supermom. I mean here I am (always with at least one extra kid in tow) on time to practice, after finishing a day of school, preparing dinner, and, usually, I even make it a point to shower and be presentable. As any homeschooling mom of six (with four under five) knows, this is quite the feat of superhero proportions. Never mind that I am well aware that I am anything but a superhero. Do I try to explain that I am only a saint in as much as I try, albeit very feebly, to live out this vocation I am called to? Would they even know what I meant by vocation? Not a job, not a chore, not a responsibility, not a choice, but rather a calling.

In the end, I mumble something mostly unintelligible. I fumble my words. I am quite certain my face turns about six shades of red. I stammer, look down, and then do my best to change the subject.

The truth is, I want to say something. I want to tell them how great my kids are. Tell them that each child brings a new wonderful dimension to our family. That life without anyone of them would seem somehow incomplete. I want to explain about the grace God gives me each day to handle a task that, while often overwhelming, brings innumerable and completely unfathomable rewards. That, yes indeed, my life is chaotic, noisy, and busy. My vocation as a mom is tiring, overwhelming, and often menial, but it is my calling and in the midst of immense chaos there is a truly beautiful peace that I know I am doing the will of God and fulfilling that call.

Since I can't seem to eloquently respond, how could anyone (least of all frazzled and inarticulate me), encapsulate all the beauty of the vocation of motherhood in a sound bite? I only hope that when they see me on Saturdays schlepping all the little ones through the soccer fields, they can sense it. That somehow God's light shines through the chaos of snacks, diapers, and keeping little ones busy while cheering on older ones.

After all, I can't do this all on my own, I'm no supermom.

Settling the Score

There was a time I thought I would never have the privilege of having two little ones in diapers. I certainly never expected that God's plan would be for us to have THREE in diapers. Some days I feel as though every time I begin a task, I am interrupted to change another dirty diaper.

When Banana was born, dh was so afraid he might hurt her, he didn't change a diaper until she was almost 8 months old. Boy has he come a long way. Now it often takes both of us (and a small fortune) to keep these little ones in clean diapers.

You'll also remember dh's favorite bible verse, 1 Corinthians 15 :51: "We shall not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed." Never in our lifetime has that verse been more real to us than now. There are many, many, many sleepless nights and more changes than we dreamed possible.

In an effort to add some fun to these dreadful and numerous diaper changes, and because I am, by nature, fairly competitive, dh and I now have a diaper scoring scale.

1 point for each diaper
2 points for a number two diaper
+1 point if the change must be done out of the house
+1 point if it is a blowout
+1 point if there is any during changing showers.

So a poopy diaper at the store that blows out is four points, but a routine morning change is only one point. We keep a daily tally of our points.

So far today, I have 7. Dh has 0. My record is a whopping 19!!!

What's the prize? Right now, just bragging rights and the bigger dessert portion on dessert nights, but the system is fairly new so we are open to suggestions...

Today's Post Is Brought to You By the Letter S

Surgery
Soccer
Schooling
Squirmy Seven-Month Olds
Scared Sons

What do these have in common? They are the cause of my current state of sleep deprivation...

My sister had her surgery to take out her LVAD early yesterday morning. From all reports, she is doing well and has already been able to get up and walk. This is such wonderful news. I am really looking forward to seeing her tonight. Last night, when I saw her she was still pretty groggy and sedated. It will be nice to see her with fewer tubes, not to mention without a heart pump. Thank you all for all the prayers you have offered on her behalf. I was able to see her before the surgery, but you know it is early when you try to stop at a coffee shop on the way to the hospital and they are all closed. It might be too late for coffee, but it should never, ever, be too early :)

Soccer season has also officially begun. This coincides with the reinstatement of Mom's taxi service. It also means early dinner preparations, no evening chores (my laundry is mounting), and poor dad is left with almost all bedtime duties.

School is also in full-swing here. I am getting better at managing little ones while keeping the older ones focused. It is a daily battle and some days are better than others, but the important thing is that progress is being made. Now, throwing in the housework is probably going to throw a wrench in the whole thing (have I mentioned how out of control the laundry is getting?).

My squirmy seven month old is getting teeth and becoming a real Mommy's boy. All this I could handle since he is about the cutest thing this side of the Mississippi. The trouble is he wants to nurse all-night-long. The new teeth make this especially uncomfortable for me.

As if one kid keeping me up half the night weren't enough, Joseph has decided to fill the other half of the night. He seems to be looking for reassurance someone will come if he calls. For the last two weeks, he has woken up somewhere in the wee hours of the morning and if we don't run quickly, he pulls Juju into the mix.

So please Letter S, bring me some sound sleeping soon :)

Binky Wars

When Banana was born, I read all the books, all the books. I knew from that reading that when she was born, we would have nothing to do with binkies, pacifiers, or nuks. Whatever you called them, I didn't need them. While I gave these instructions explicitly to the hospital, on Banana's first return from the hospital nursery, she was contentedly sucking on a new bright green binky peaceful as can be. From that early moment, the binky became a part of her baby days, and her toddler days. Thankfully, breastfeeding went so well, the binky was no trouble.

You sure can tell she was a first child with a binky to match the dress :)

There was another problem though. We could never find a binky when we most needed them. After countless episodes of MIA binkies at the most inopportune moments (baby screaming, food in the oven burning, on an important phone call, you get the picture), I invested a small fortune in binkies. We had them everywhere, except when we needed them most, like the middle of the night. Dh thought this was all too much hassle, not to mention expensive, so when Bear was born he said NO BINKY!! I went along at the beginning. I remembered those sleepless nights searching for a binky.

Look at those pursed lips--no binky for her

After a few weeks, however, I missed the binky. I missed it terribly. Bear had no other pacifier but me and I was exhausted. I had a cough I couldn't kick, we had just moved across the country into a new house, and I needed her to take a binky. So I bought every kind you can imagine. Who knew there could be so many varieties? I tried them one after the other, but she would have nothing to do with any of them. Oh how I longed for that binky in many rough moments.

Gabe, my dear boy, loves his binky. Maybe not as much as Banana, but enough to give me a few moments of peace in a pinch. For many months we had the same binky, and one on reserve. I thought that perhaps the key to not losing binkies was to only have one and keep track of it. That tactic seemed to work. Until a new war was waged....

Me against the dog. Bella decided the binky makes a great chew toy. She chews every last one she can wrap in her paws. She pulls them out of the swing, off the bouncy seat, and I speculate she has jumped on the couch to get them. I have bought at least six new packages and today, after this, I am once again down to my very last binky!

Ramping Up

"Organization is what you do before you do something, so that when you do it, it’s not all mixed up."

~A. A. Milne

With the kitchen renovations finished (the fourth, and hopefully final, stove was delivered yesterday), and the great basement clean up wrapping up this afternoon, it is time to turn my attention to the coming school year. The books arrived much too early for me to think of opening them. They are currently in a pile in a corner of what will soon be the homeschool room. A silent reminder that the days of summer are quickly passing. New desks for Banana and Bear are scheduled to arrive tomorrow. I still have a few books to order, a schedule to finalize, a trip out for basic school supplies, and I am trying to think of creative strategies for keeping two toddlers entertained.

Our summer of family visits, park days, VBS, swimming, and the occasional lazy days is coming to an end much too soon for me.

The Appliance Saga Continues

A few months ago I blogged about the demise of our washer and dryer and their beautiful, large-capacity replacements. I, unfortunately, got so busy with summer activities that I haven't had a chance to document our ongoing appliance woes. I'll attempt to remedy that with this post.

Maybe a month and a half after our washer went kaput, dh was getting ready to run the dishwasher. This is dangerous territory for him because I am the master dishwasher loader around here. I know exactly how to pack every square inch of that thing. He'd been working out and apparently didn't know his own strength. When he went to close the soap container, the whole piece broke off in his hand and then broke into tiny little pieces. Since we had a dinosaur of a dishwasher, we opted for a new one rather than attempting any repairs.

Isn't she lovely, built in hard disposal, movable racks, sanitizing settings, and boy is she ever quiet. In this house anything that is quiet wins brownie points with me.

The next day, the very next day after breaking our dishwasher, dh was helping with dinner. He went to remove the veggies from the microwave when I hear him gasp, "I am not doing this on purpose!" Did I mention he'd been working out? I turn to find he has pulled the handle off the microwave. He had earlier joked since the new dishwasher was stainless, we should start replacing all the kitchen appliances. Little did I know he'd significantly help that process along.

Today, this baby was replaced. We have disliked it since the day we moved here. The towel is my feeble attempt to hide an un-cleanable door. A few years ago the element died as I was baking Christmas cookies. Then a month ago dh started a pretty good grease fire. It survived our batters, but it has never been the same.The big-box home improvement store intsaller recognized me when he arrived. We are sort of memorable. I am not sure there are too many houses with six little ones circling the poor guy as though they were Indians dancing around a tribal fire. Everyone is curious what he is doing. The little ones never stop moving underfoot and the older ones shoot out question after question. If that weren't memorable enough, I am sure the sight of me frantically trying to clean areas that haven't seen the light of day in many years was. I shudder to post this picture, but for posterity's sake, look at the dirt, even a refrigerator magnet, and a crayon. How did those things get there?Here's the new stove. It came today, sight unseen to me. Dh picked it out himself. He does a substantial amount of cooking around here. I'm the day-to-day cook, he's the anything special chef. We definitely eat better on his days. He also had the time to research and look at these things. Somehow I don't think I would get much accomplished while out with all six children. I spent half the afternoon reading the manual. I have a meeting tonight, but dh will be trying out the new convection oven after dinner tonight. He's making zucchini bread, our first fruits from the summer garden. It may take me a month to figure out all the features.
Stay tuned as the sequel to The Appliance Saga continues with continued kitchen improvements in New Granite Countertops...

Post Fourth Festivities

We had a very full week and weekend. Family visits, fireworks, fun in the sun, for five fantastic days. Now we are exhausted. Today was a transition day, not quite the partying we'd been doing, but not ready for back to work. It was a much needed day of catching up on rest and a beautiful quiet day at home, especially since Dad was off work.

Dinner tonight was a pesto sauce made from the basil in my patio container garden. Last summer I admired the basil on the steps of our parish rectory. Father was kind enough to show me how to tend to my basil and this year we have four beautiful plants. We also had some bread and dipping sauce (thanks mom!), and for dessert an Oreo cream pie. Joseph especially loved his dessert. That kid really loves his dessert.On our way home last night, after saying good bye to family members, Banana told me she wished we could just buy a big plot of land and let everyone we knew and loved build a house on it and be close to us. I thought it sounded like a great idea, I think that is how heaven will be. All those dear to us will be only a thought away. For now are thankful for time we have together, we say our good byes, anticipate future visits, and hope for heaven.

Blessed

I had a beautiful morning today with Joseph, just him and me. Dh has a long standing tradition of taking the older girls (and whoever else who happens to wake up) to the "much too early for this nursing mom" Mass on Fridays. I had a rough night with the baby and never heard any of them leaving.

Probably five minutes after they left little Joseph woke and started his call to have someone get him out of bed. Little Juju can lift her leg to the height of her ear in order to get one little toe to hook over the side of her bed. She then uses that one little toe to hoist herself over the bed, it's truly amazing (if not a little nerve wracking) to watch. Joseph, try as he might, can not get his leg that high, so he stands at the end of the bed and yells.

I had to drag myself out of bed as I am *not* a morning person and I was exceptionally tired from Gabe who must be preparing for a growth spurt. I shuffled sleepily to the next room. As soon as Joseph saw me, he gave me his characteristic ear to ear grin and held out his arms. Something about his smile works magic, it gave me more energy to start this morning that seemed to come much too quickly. It didn't matter that my eyelids felt like dead weight, or that my arthritic joints were stiff, I was happy to see that little smile. When I leaned over and he jumped in my arms and wrapped his own little arms around my neck in a bear hug that only Joseph can give, I knew today was going to be a great day even if I was exhausted.

The two of us wandered downstairs. I started my coffee and put him in his chair for a banana. As soon as I said "banana" he lit up. He clapped his hands and again started his yelling. I don't know what he was saying, but he sure seemed overly excited about that banana. We then made our way outside. Again Joseph was more than a little excited about the door opening and him being allowed to roam. He points to all the cars, and the trees, and the birds, and the clouds, each time he is so joyful about the world around him.

I can't help but think that for most of his short life, he hasn't had mornings like this. His excitement at the banana (and all food for that matter) might come from those mornings where there was little or no food for him. His excitement for being out doors may be the result of being in a confined space for so long.

So many people say he is blessed or lucky. He now has ample food, plenty of toys, a yard to explore, a family that loves him. I agree he is indeed blessed. This morning, though, I was once again reminded that I am more blessed. God has given me the great gift of playing a small part in this little boy's life. I am blessed to hand him the banana, blessed to open the door for him, most of all blessed to wake up to his bear hugs.