Some would gather money
Along the path of life
Some would gather roses,
And rest from worldly strife.
But I would gather children
From among the thorns of sin,
I would seek a golden curl,
And a freckled, toothless grin.
For money cannot enter
In that land of endless day,
And roses that are gathered
Soon will wilt along the way.
But oh, the laughing children,
As I cross the sunset sea,
And the gates swing wide to heaven,
I can take them in with me!
~Author Unknown
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Random Mom Facts
I want to bite the children's heads off. In other words, nothing much has changed so I thought we'd play a round of "One of these things is not true."
1. I have a scar on my ankle from a rope burn I got when a cow dragged me across a corn field.
2. My earliest memory is watching some guy bash in the head of a snake with a rock. It never bothered me, I thought the snake had it coming. I think I was about 3.
3. I once drove for 3 miles with a cop chasing me. I couldn't hear his sirens because the top was down and the radio was blasting.
4. I carry Super Glue in my purse for emergency first aid. It's less traumatic than stitches.
5. I was our Junior High School mascot, a Bobcat. The head was hot and stinky.
6. I didn't wear a wedding veil because I thought it would be hypocritical.
7. I have a small tattoo of Tigger that matches my college roommate's tattoo of Winnie the Pooh. If she'll show hers, I'll show mine.
8. I had a pet snake named "Herman" who quickly found a new home when he got out of his cage and curled up on my chest as I slept. Waking up to a snake on yuor chest is not recommended by the American Heart Association.
9. The only reason I got to keep my first dog was because she showed up on the 4th of July so my parents couldn't call the pound.
10. I lived for 4 months on Lay's potato chips drenched in lemon juice. It may sound gross, but their new Limon flavor tastes pretty much the same.
1. I have a scar on my ankle from a rope burn I got when a cow dragged me across a corn field.
2. My earliest memory is watching some guy bash in the head of a snake with a rock. It never bothered me, I thought the snake had it coming. I think I was about 3.
3. I once drove for 3 miles with a cop chasing me. I couldn't hear his sirens because the top was down and the radio was blasting.
4. I carry Super Glue in my purse for emergency first aid. It's less traumatic than stitches.
5. I was our Junior High School mascot, a Bobcat. The head was hot and stinky.
6. I didn't wear a wedding veil because I thought it would be hypocritical.
7. I have a small tattoo of Tigger that matches my college roommate's tattoo of Winnie the Pooh. If she'll show hers, I'll show mine.
8. I had a pet snake named "Herman" who quickly found a new home when he got out of his cage and curled up on my chest as I slept. Waking up to a snake on yuor chest is not recommended by the American Heart Association.
9. The only reason I got to keep my first dog was because she showed up on the 4th of July so my parents couldn't call the pound.
10. I lived for 4 months on Lay's potato chips drenched in lemon juice. It may sound gross, but their new Limon flavor tastes pretty much the same.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
It's the Final Countdown
Here's my prediction: I'm 3 weeks from having this baby. Don't listen to the little floaty guy in the sidebar, listen to the voice of experience. I have no patience and have turned into an absolute lunatic raving b*%&h. It's time to have a baby!
I hate everyone, and the more I should love them, the more they are p*$$ing me off. I'm normally a pretty happy and content person, but as of last night I'm just looking for a head to bite off. Fair warning, if you are coming for a visit, you might want to throw raw meat first to distract me. I've spent the last hour ripping the noggins off of Barbie dolls. I hate her. Who does she think she is with her perky boobs abd her little waist?
I wish I were one of those nesting moms who bring their babies home to sparkling clean houses and freshly laundered sheets. I bring the new guy home to a family that breathes a sigh of relief because nobody actually died.
#2 fell off his bike last night and scraped his foot in four or five places. He blubbered and whined about how much it hurt. (He seems to feel pain more than most people and seeing blood multiplies the pain.) The Computer Guy carried him inside just in time for me to tear into him about "Where the heck were the shoes I told you to wear?" My sweet husband (he really is going straight to heaven with no Purgatorial side-trip) said, "I think he just needs a hug from his mom." I patted his head, because really it was that or shake him until he stopped wailing. I rolled my eyes at my son and told him to knock it off because, after all, "worse things happen at sea."
I had to walk out of the bathroom. Even I knew I was hovering close to a line there. At the dinner table 30 minutes later (that's right a whole half hour of his crying and my teeth grinding later), I looked at my son and asked exactly what the problem was. "It hurts so much," he sobbed.
I raised an eyebrow and replied," I've had to get 5 living human beings out of my body. Do you really want to talk pain with me?" That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I'm up for Mother of the Year. I'm a shoe-in, no?
You get the gist. I've lost my mind. The alien with the old man name needs to get out. I don't care about due dates and blah, blah, blah. Based upon past history, I morph into Mrs. Hyde about 3 weeks before the new guy arrives. Stop by and visit if you want, but bring raw meat or new Barbies, and enter at your own risk. You've been warned.
I hate everyone, and the more I should love them, the more they are p*$$ing me off. I'm normally a pretty happy and content person, but as of last night I'm just looking for a head to bite off. Fair warning, if you are coming for a visit, you might want to throw raw meat first to distract me. I've spent the last hour ripping the noggins off of Barbie dolls. I hate her. Who does she think she is with her perky boobs abd her little waist?
I wish I were one of those nesting moms who bring their babies home to sparkling clean houses and freshly laundered sheets. I bring the new guy home to a family that breathes a sigh of relief because nobody actually died.
#2 fell off his bike last night and scraped his foot in four or five places. He blubbered and whined about how much it hurt. (He seems to feel pain more than most people and seeing blood multiplies the pain.) The Computer Guy carried him inside just in time for me to tear into him about "Where the heck were the shoes I told you to wear?" My sweet husband (he really is going straight to heaven with no Purgatorial side-trip) said, "I think he just needs a hug from his mom." I patted his head, because really it was that or shake him until he stopped wailing. I rolled my eyes at my son and told him to knock it off because, after all, "worse things happen at sea."
I had to walk out of the bathroom. Even I knew I was hovering close to a line there. At the dinner table 30 minutes later (that's right a whole half hour of his crying and my teeth grinding later), I looked at my son and asked exactly what the problem was. "It hurts so much," he sobbed.
I raised an eyebrow and replied," I've had to get 5 living human beings out of my body. Do you really want to talk pain with me?" That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I'm up for Mother of the Year. I'm a shoe-in, no?
You get the gist. I've lost my mind. The alien with the old man name needs to get out. I don't care about due dates and blah, blah, blah. Based upon past history, I morph into Mrs. Hyde about 3 weeks before the new guy arrives. Stop by and visit if you want, but bring raw meat or new Barbies, and enter at your own risk. You've been warned.
Monday, July 6, 2009
#4 is 5
I wrote this a week and a half ago, but debated over whether or not to publish it. It's not that we rejoice any less over the birth of our fourth child than we do over the others, I was trying to respect her wishes.
#4 wants to be invisible. That's the super power she would choose if someone let her pick. To be able to walk completely unnoticed through a crowded room is her greatest dream. The perfect day for her would be to spend it coloring and singing quietly to herself as the rest of the world looks the other way.
This makes no sense to me. This shy and simple soul is burdened with a mother who has never met a stranger in her life; I look at the world and see only potential friends. How can my mini-me and I be complete opposites?
Quiet and self-amusing, it is easy to forget that she is even in the house, but when she is gone it is impossible to ignore her absence. She is the calm balance to the chaos of the rest of us. Slow and deliberate and impossibly sure of her opinions, she just doesn't feel the need to share them all the time. A sweet and tiny face dominated by laughing eyes and the honest emotion that shines through them. Calm and caring and possessing a loving heart and a generous spirit, she is an amazingly kind person in the tiniest package.
Our fairy girl. Spinning and humming and twirling her way through life. Hoping not to be seen, but impossible to forget. If you see our sweet and sparkling girl and hear her giggling, be sure to admire her from a distance. Just like the magic of fairies, the magic of #4 hides at the approach of outsiders. Just trust her mother. The magic is there, and if you are patient enough, and just a little bit lucky, she may choose to share it with you, and then you will be fortunate indeed.
#4 wants to be invisible. That's the super power she would choose if someone let her pick. To be able to walk completely unnoticed through a crowded room is her greatest dream. The perfect day for her would be to spend it coloring and singing quietly to herself as the rest of the world looks the other way.
This makes no sense to me. This shy and simple soul is burdened with a mother who has never met a stranger in her life; I look at the world and see only potential friends. How can my mini-me and I be complete opposites?
Quiet and self-amusing, it is easy to forget that she is even in the house, but when she is gone it is impossible to ignore her absence. She is the calm balance to the chaos of the rest of us. Slow and deliberate and impossibly sure of her opinions, she just doesn't feel the need to share them all the time. A sweet and tiny face dominated by laughing eyes and the honest emotion that shines through them. Calm and caring and possessing a loving heart and a generous spirit, she is an amazingly kind person in the tiniest package.
Our fairy girl. Spinning and humming and twirling her way through life. Hoping not to be seen, but impossible to forget. If you see our sweet and sparkling girl and hear her giggling, be sure to admire her from a distance. Just like the magic of fairies, the magic of #4 hides at the approach of outsiders. Just trust her mother. The magic is there, and if you are patient enough, and just a little bit lucky, she may choose to share it with you, and then you will be fortunate indeed.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Up Yours, Mullahs
If you use Twitter, set your location to Tehran & your time zone to GMT +3.30. Iranian security forces are hunting for bloggers using location/timezone searches. The more people at this location, the more of a logjam it creates for forces trying to shut down Iranians' access to the internet. Cut & paste & pass it on.
Sounds like a fine way to help those seeking freedom in Iran. Let's give them a bit of a smoke screen. If you Twitter, please adjust your time zone.
hat tip to Fr Erik Richtsteig at Orthometer
Sounds like a fine way to help those seeking freedom in Iran. Let's give them a bit of a smoke screen. If you Twitter, please adjust your time zone.
hat tip to Fr Erik Richtsteig at Orthometer
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
On My Mind-the mental meanderings of me
Just a random assortment of stuff that I've had on my mind for the last couple of days. None of them were important enough for their own post, but I'm sharing them anyway.
My grandmother is a genius. She's a master gardener who somehow happened to have a grand-daughter who kills plants. It's true, I have a serious brown thumb.
Every year I try and have a garden and every year my plants wither in the summer sun without producing anything edible. But not this year! This year I was smart enough to call her and ask her advice on my poor tomato plants which were growing alright but hadn't produced a single bud much less a tomato.
Know what she said? Give them each a cup of apple juice every three weeks. Know what else? She was right. My plants are sagging under the weight of all their fruit. Hooray for smart grandmas! She also gave me her recipe for a beautiful lawn: Coke and dishwashing detergent. I'm spraying it on there tomorrow and will keep you posted.
------------------------------------------------------------
I'm living in a pickle jar. #1's dog has reached "manhood" and is marking his territory all over the house. The only thing I've found that gets rid of the pee smell for good is straight vinegar. I shampooed the carpets with it last night and again this morning. The pee smell is gone, but now it smells like a pickle factory in here. On the plus side, my sinuses are clear.
------------------------------------------------------------
#3 peed on the floor in his bedroom this morning to prove a point to his brother. His room smells like pickles, too. I think the fact that he is still breathing is further proof of my cause for sainthood. I told a priest friend of ours about it when he called and he said, "oh, they got in a pissing contest did they?"
Great, a funny priest, just what I needed.
------------------------------------------------------------
All of my military friends are moving this week. I was raised in a Navy family and know what it is to move all the time. I miss it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Thought of my dad on Father's Day and how he took care of me when I had the chicken pox when I was 5. My mom was taking finals, so dad took two weeks off to take care of me. He ran out of fun things to do with a sick five-year-old by the third day. He spent the next week and a half teaching me bar tricks like playing quarters and tying a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue, and how to cheat at poker. They are all valuable skills that I look forward to passing on to my own children someday soon.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I'm learning to crochet from a book. I'm teaching myself. I'm slow and plodding at it now, but I look at my hands and remember watching my grandmother's gnarled hands fly when she would crochet. I think I'll send her my first afghan.
------------------------------------------------------------
I'm tired of being pregnant, but keep thinking that what I really need to do is look for the blessing in the discomfort. So, I have begun reading the blogs of people who are struggling with infertility. Reading about their heartbreak makes me feel bad about whining about heartburn. It puts things into a better perspective, as an added bonus I'm picking up a whole new vocabulary relating to the reproductive system. I only thought NFP'ers knew it all.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I want Mexican food. The real kind with the homemade tortillas and the orange grease. My husband is going to Dallas this weekend, what I wouldn't give to go with him just so I could eat.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Once upon a time, we lived in a neighborhood with lots of rabbits. My children desperately wanted a bunny for a pet and so my brilliant Computer Guy told them that if they could catch one they could keep it. He laughed every time they chased after the poor things. Then a cat left a baby bunny on our porch, frightened but unharmed. The children broke into a happy dance while I called their father and said, "Okay, they caught one, now what do I do with it?"
My grandmother is a genius. She's a master gardener who somehow happened to have a grand-daughter who kills plants. It's true, I have a serious brown thumb.
Every year I try and have a garden and every year my plants wither in the summer sun without producing anything edible. But not this year! This year I was smart enough to call her and ask her advice on my poor tomato plants which were growing alright but hadn't produced a single bud much less a tomato.
Know what she said? Give them each a cup of apple juice every three weeks. Know what else? She was right. My plants are sagging under the weight of all their fruit. Hooray for smart grandmas! She also gave me her recipe for a beautiful lawn: Coke and dishwashing detergent. I'm spraying it on there tomorrow and will keep you posted.
------------------------------------------------------------
I'm living in a pickle jar. #1's dog has reached "manhood" and is marking his territory all over the house. The only thing I've found that gets rid of the pee smell for good is straight vinegar. I shampooed the carpets with it last night and again this morning. The pee smell is gone, but now it smells like a pickle factory in here. On the plus side, my sinuses are clear.
------------------------------------------------------------
#3 peed on the floor in his bedroom this morning to prove a point to his brother. His room smells like pickles, too. I think the fact that he is still breathing is further proof of my cause for sainthood. I told a priest friend of ours about it when he called and he said, "oh, they got in a pissing contest did they?"
Great, a funny priest, just what I needed.
------------------------------------------------------------
All of my military friends are moving this week. I was raised in a Navy family and know what it is to move all the time. I miss it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Thought of my dad on Father's Day and how he took care of me when I had the chicken pox when I was 5. My mom was taking finals, so dad took two weeks off to take care of me. He ran out of fun things to do with a sick five-year-old by the third day. He spent the next week and a half teaching me bar tricks like playing quarters and tying a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue, and how to cheat at poker. They are all valuable skills that I look forward to passing on to my own children someday soon.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I'm learning to crochet from a book. I'm teaching myself. I'm slow and plodding at it now, but I look at my hands and remember watching my grandmother's gnarled hands fly when she would crochet. I think I'll send her my first afghan.
------------------------------------------------------------
I'm tired of being pregnant, but keep thinking that what I really need to do is look for the blessing in the discomfort. So, I have begun reading the blogs of people who are struggling with infertility. Reading about their heartbreak makes me feel bad about whining about heartburn. It puts things into a better perspective, as an added bonus I'm picking up a whole new vocabulary relating to the reproductive system. I only thought NFP'ers knew it all.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I want Mexican food. The real kind with the homemade tortillas and the orange grease. My husband is going to Dallas this weekend, what I wouldn't give to go with him just so I could eat.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Once upon a time, we lived in a neighborhood with lots of rabbits. My children desperately wanted a bunny for a pet and so my brilliant Computer Guy told them that if they could catch one they could keep it. He laughed every time they chased after the poor things. Then a cat left a baby bunny on our porch, frightened but unharmed. The children broke into a happy dance while I called their father and said, "Okay, they caught one, now what do I do with it?"
Friday, June 19, 2009
Curse That Little Floating Baby in the Sidebar!
Some days he offers me hope that the end is near, today he brings the harsh reality that I still have 2 months to go.
True confession time: I am sick of being pregnant. My hips hurt from waddling. I snore loudly enough to wake myself up (I'm sure this is my husband's favorite part) thanks to my painfully swollen sinuses. I can't breathe well enough to do anything physical for longer than 5 minutes which is a blow to a girl who likes to run five miles just for fun. The baby kicks so hard that I can't sleep at night unless I lay on my back and then he's up in my chest so I can't breathe. Heartburn keeps me from eating after 4:00 in the afternoon which means I cook dinners I can't eat and then am starving by the morning.
In theory, I think that it's cool that pregnancy takes 40 weeks and that the number 40 in the Bible means "in the fullness of time." Can't we figure out some way to speed this up a bit?
Not that I'm in any way prepared for a newborn in my life right now. I'd just like to take off the belly like a stinky shirt and set it aside for the day. Just one day to breathe and actually be able to smell things. A day where I can walk up the stairs without having to pause to catch my breath. An evening of being able to eat dinner with my family and not having to lie down by 8:00, which would mean I could actually tuck my children in and kiss them goodnight.
So, Curse you, little spinning baby! Can't you count any faster?
True confession time: I am sick of being pregnant. My hips hurt from waddling. I snore loudly enough to wake myself up (I'm sure this is my husband's favorite part) thanks to my painfully swollen sinuses. I can't breathe well enough to do anything physical for longer than 5 minutes which is a blow to a girl who likes to run five miles just for fun. The baby kicks so hard that I can't sleep at night unless I lay on my back and then he's up in my chest so I can't breathe. Heartburn keeps me from eating after 4:00 in the afternoon which means I cook dinners I can't eat and then am starving by the morning.
In theory, I think that it's cool that pregnancy takes 40 weeks and that the number 40 in the Bible means "in the fullness of time." Can't we figure out some way to speed this up a bit?
Not that I'm in any way prepared for a newborn in my life right now. I'd just like to take off the belly like a stinky shirt and set it aside for the day. Just one day to breathe and actually be able to smell things. A day where I can walk up the stairs without having to pause to catch my breath. An evening of being able to eat dinner with my family and not having to lie down by 8:00, which would mean I could actually tuck my children in and kiss them goodnight.
So, Curse you, little spinning baby! Can't you count any faster?
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