Welcome!

Welcome, Croatia, to the the sidebar! Thanks for stopping by, please come again!

Haiku Friday!!!!!!!

Eldest has been gone
swimming, hiking and riding
week-long summer camp

Home today at last
our fledgling back in our nest
glad to have her here

short letters sent home
too busy to even write
three hours away

I hope she had fun
but I hope she missed us too
and stays home awhile

Will you just walk already?

My 15 month old weighs more than my 4 year old. One pound more. No, I'm not kidding. He won't walk either. That's probably why he weighs more than a 4 year old.

She's really tiny, so it's not as if he's that big. It's the no walking thing that makes it bad though.

It's not that he can't do it. He just doesn't want to do it.

Yesterday, he pulled a step stool over to the toilet, and climbed up onto the closed lid to get something off the counter. If he can climb on top of the toilet and balance on the lid, then he can walk. He's just lazy.....or he's a genius.

He doesn't have to do anything. He gets carried everywhere he wants to go. People are at his beck and call. He wouldn't even hold his own bottle until a month and a half ago. He would look at it on the floor and whine pitifully and one of his siblings would pick it up and hold it for him until he was done.

This kid is brilliant. He's a champion of delegation at the tender age of 15 months. He's either going to end up as the CEO for a huge company but still manage to play 18 holes of golf everyday, or as the world's biggest mooch.

I'm hoping for the CEO one so that someday, he can take care of me.

Your Very Own Brand New Computer Guy!

My beloved Computer Guy has a new job at last! He will be working for an oil and gas company here in Oklahoma. Therefore, I will no longer be complaining about the high cost of a barrel of oil. He gets profit-based bonuses. Yes, I'm a capitalist, so sue me.

We will be moving soon. Not back to my beloved Texas, but to the other side of Oklahoma City. It would be about an hour drive each way, and I like him too much for him to be gone that long doing nothing but driving. I'm not complaining about gas prices, mind you, I just don't want his entire raise to be eaten up by them.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank St Rita, Patron Saint of the Impossible, who was praying for us. Thanks to all the friends who gave good advice and helped and listened. Most of all, thanks be to God, who gave my dear husband the knowledge necessary to get the job, and put him in the right place at the right time. He also reassured me that night in February when I was up, frustrated and praying and crying and said "God, I truly believe that I can live through anything and not lose my mind as long as I know how long it will last. Would it be too much to ask to have an end-date?" I woke up the next morning and told everyone "July." Even when I felt like I was losing my mind, I clung by my fingernails to the promise of July. The Computer Guy starts his new job July 7th. I've learned that it's not just asking, it's asking for the right thing. "Just tell me when it will be over. Amen"

I'm meeting with the realtor today to look at 3 houses. I asked St Anthony and St Rita for help praying, and then asked God to make the perfect house obvious. Then I asked when we would move and He said "August". Sounds good to me.

yeah...yeah...it's haiku friday

cool, refreshing drops
are spraying from the sprinkler
children jump and dance

summertime frolic
no planning is required
it's better that way


Happy Summertime, Y'all!

Discuss

I'm busy getting ready for my 4 year old's birthday, but didn't want to leave you with nothing to think about. So, here's a question for you to discuss in the combox!

Question: Imagine you have the stigmata. Would it affect your productivity at work? Would you still be admitted to fine restaurants? Would it be covered by your medical insurance, or should it constitute a pre-existent condition? Would you wear gloves or figure "Hey, if I'm holy enough for the stigmata, then everyone should know"?



And just for Catherine, who always wants a picture but I never post one, here are two of the pictures used on the TV show. The first is a picture from our convalidation on our 10th anniversary.



The next is all the Little Kids.

Bookmark this page, you won't see us again!

Smarter than I Thought

My 8 and 11 year olds read almost everything I write. This is college level? Wow. I'm a better teacher than I thought!

Christ the Lord

The last book of Anne Rice's that I read was Memnoch the Devil, and that was years ago. As someone on a spiritual journey myself, I was fascinated by the questions Ms. Rice both asked and answered. Memnoch was not so much one of her Vampire Chronicles, but more of a treatise on her own spiritual journey. It still had the vampires, and the carnal sensuality for which Ms. Rice is well known, but it was the personal quest for answers which made it fascinating. It was a look at Creation through the eyes of the Devil, and then a search for answers once the brutality of humanity is laid forth. I will be forever grateful to her as being hte first person to ever verbalize to me that all of these horrific and destructive things, such as the Crusades, which were done in the name of God and religion, were not about religion but were politics thinly disguised.

It was with great interest; therefore, that I picked up the first two books in her new Christ the Lord. Wow. It is apparent from the beginning of the first book that her spiritual journey has led her Home and that she is delighted to be there. Her joy in the Lord is palpable. It lifts off the page and dances it's way through the first book.

Ms Rice has truly fallen head over heels in love with the humanity of Christ. She delights in the little boy of 7 in the first book, and, in the second book, invites the reader feels the pain of being different with the man he has become.

Many of the stories of Jesus' childhood that she relates are stories which have been handed down orally through the Church. I know that I have heard them many times from different nuns and priests I have been fortunate to know. His wide-eyed innocence is endearing, yet he is a precocious child who knows that he is different. He knows that he calls his father Joseph, but doesn't know why he has been taught to do so. He has an instinctive grasp of the meaning of Scripture, and astonishes his teachers, but it just comes naturally to him.

Ms Rice deals beautifully with some of the great mysteries of our faith as naturally as she deals with conversation between mother and child. He)re is her explanation of the Perpetual Virginity of Mary:

Jesus' Cleopas is telling Jesus about when Mary forst told him of the visit from the angel.

"I believed her," he said. "I am her brother, am I not? She was thirteen, betrothed to Joseph, and I tell you, she was never out oft he sight of any of us outside of our house, never could there have been any chance of anyone being with her, you know what I'm saying to you, I mean a man. There was no chance, and I am her brother. Remember I told you. I believed her" He lay back a little on the clothes bundled behind him. "A virgin child, a child in the service of the Temple of Jerusalem, to weave the great veil, with the other chosen ones, and then home under our eyes."

...

My mind was working, collecting every bit of knowledge I had ever learned that could help me make sense of what he had said. It was the mind of a child who had grown up sleeping in a room with men and women in that same room and in the other rooms open to it, and sleeping in the open courtyard with the men and women in the heat of summer, and living always close with them, and hearing and seeing many things. My mind was working. But I couldn't make sense of all he'd said.

"You remember, what I said to you, that I believed!" he said.

"But you're not really sure, are you?" I whispered.

His eyes opened wide and a new expression came over him, as if waking from a fever.

"And Joseph isn't either, is he?" I asked in the same whisper. "And that is why he never lies beside her."

He rose up on his elbow, and his face was close to mine.

"Turn it around," he said. He struggled for breath. "He never touches her because he does believe..."

If you are looking for Summer reading, pick up these two books, and then wait with me for the third. Accept Ms. Rice's invitation to come to know the humanity of Christ and then to embrace the divinity of him. You will be glad you did.

All I can add is: Welcome home, Anne, welcome home.

The workout..for today

I keep forgetting to post this, sorry.

3.5 miles running. I'm slow, but it still counts as running as far as I'm concerned.

5 miles cycling.

Oklahoma is hot in the summer.

Welcome!

Welcome, Lebanon, to the sidebar! Thanks for stopping by, please come again!

I missed it!

It was on this morning and I missed it! Here's the episode on line. Go watch it for yourself, but please be kind.

I Still Don't Know

You keep asking when my TV interview will air, and the truth is that I still don't have an air date. I promise to let you know as soon as I know. The last I heard was this week, but I have had no confirmation of that. If you want to check it out, I'm not stoppin' you. The show is "Facing Life Head On" on the TBN network. It airs in Oklahoma on Tuesday mornings at 10:30. I'm not sure about where you live, check your local listings for air times.

I'm truly surprised and honored that so many of you are curious about how I look and just how much of a drawl I really have. It's a good one, but not thick. You should have no trouble understanding me.

Hey Kids..It's Time for a Haiku!

Bright colored paper
Repeating trite platitudes
conceals the true prize

handwritten letter
tucked inside a Hallmark card
throw the rest away

Save the money please
leave the card upon the racks
just pen me a note

A Rose by Any Other Name....

I am changing my name. Not the handy "the Mom" title by which I am known in cyberspace, but my real-life name. I have decided to let go and become someone new.

Not my whole name, just the middle one. Though if I were completely honest, I would change both my first and middle names. They don't belong to me.

I have a half sister. A half sister with the exact same name. She is older. It was hers first.

It's funny. I didn't grow up with a sister. I never even knew she existed until 2 years after my parents separated. Then my father told me that he had had a child out of wedlock. She was given up for adoption. He wanted to find her. I helped him search.

I have always tried to make those around me happy, even at my own expense. I was 16. I adored my father. I helped him look. I prayed with all my might that he wouldn't find or or that she wouldn't want him. We were close, my father and I. Then we weren't.

We had a falling out that had nothing to do with anyone but us, although other people kept stepping in and trying to help. Had we been left to work it out, it would have healed long ago. We weren't, so it never has.

Then he found her. All by himself, he found his other, older, much wished for daughter. And she had my name, or rather I have hers. He swears it was coincidental. I have my doubts, but it doesn't really matter. He called her by my nickname until everyone got confused and then he called me by my whole name and her by my nickname. My name has already changed once.

At the time he found her, he said to my brother that it was so convenient that our names were the same "Rebecca Lynn" and "Rebecca Lynn". It was like a puzzle he said, he could remove me (who was giving him trouble) and drop her into my place and he wouldn't even have to rewrite his Will.

I'm sure she's a lovely person. I hear great and good things about her. I have no desire to know her. She is a constant reminder to me that I have been replaced. That the father I took of when he needed me has chosen to put someone in my place "like a replacement piece in a puzzle." I'm sure she's a lovely person, but there are lots of lovely people in this world, and I don't have to be friends with all of them.

I'm changing my name. It's my own personal Declaration of Independence. I am not the consolation prize, or the duplicate or the also ran. I am fabulous, and funny, and completely wonderful, and I deserve to have my own name.

Evolution Joke

I stole this from my friend, Laurie. Thanks, Laurie! It made me laugh out loud, so I had to share.


A little girl asked her mother, 'How did the human race appear?' The
mother answered, 'God made Adam and Eve and they had children and so
was all mankind made.'

Two days later the girl asked her father the same question. The
father answered, 'Many years ago there were monkeys from which the
human race evolved.'

The confused girl returned to her mother and said, 'Mom, how is it
possible that you told me the human race was created by God, and Dad
said they developed from monkeys?'

The mother answered, 'Well, dear, it is very simple. I told you about
my side of the family and your father told you about his.'

Little help, please

I gave all of you an extremely helpful list for Mother's Day, and now I need your help for Father's Day. Do you have any suggestions for a last minute procrastinator?

I can't even use last year's gift. I gave him another son. It was great last year, but I should have been planning long before now if I wanted a repeat of that. We did the girl thing 4 years ago, so that wouldn't be original either.

Any suggestions? (Imelda, I know you think running shoes, but they would be wasted on him. On the other hand, new running shoes for me...and he could see how cute I look...THAT could work.) If you're a dad, what do you want for Father's Day? If not, what are you giving for Father's Day?

I already asked him, and all he said he wants is a nap. Yeah, you and me both, honey.

Soccer Kid Commercial

JP II said that the greatest gift we could give our children would be siblings. I guess this kid agrees.

h/t to Da Mihi Aminas

The Experiment-5 days later...

I know I said I would post on Wednesday about my eye, but I had to share this today. It has been 5 days since I began "the experiment", and already I can see results. Not only is my skin noticeably softer, the dreaded crows feet are less visible. I think I may be in love with aloe vera. Why didn't someone tell me about this sooner? Check out the 5 day before and after photos. Again, excuse the nakedness of my eye.

Before:

After:

This Month... in France...

My grandfather was part of the United State Army during World War II. He drove a tank across France and into Germany. He never really spoke of what he experienced over there, but we all knew it must have been horrible because the sound of gunshots or explosions on a television program could reduce him to tears. The following story was told to me by his wife, my grandmother:


It was late June 1944. The Americans were battling their way across the French countryside. Bombs were raining down upon the town, and the Americans were answering with a barrage of their own. It was the middle of the day and war had come suddenly to this small corner of the world. Where just hours before there had been peace, now seemed to be the darkest corner of Hell.

My grandfather had gotten out of his tank, I don't know why. In the midst of the battle, he saw a nun and a group of school children running right toward him. Their school had been hit by a German bomb, and they were lucky to have escaped.

The nun was frantic to get her charges to safety. She was frightened of everyone around her until my grandfather showed her his rosary. That was all it took for her to trust him. Here they were in Hell, and the sight of those beads brought instant recognition and trust.

Where could they go? she asked him. The fighting was all around them. There were no safe streets to run down. "Go into the church," he told her. "From what I've seen so far, the Germans don't bomb churches, and we try to leave them alone. Go into the church and say a prayer for me."

She held his hand for a brief moment and then led the children inside. He and his tank-mates covered their dash to safety. The doors closed behind them just as the bombs hit and the church exploded.

I don't know the exact date in June that it happened, but I know it haunted my grandfather for the whole of his life.

If you have a moment this month, pray for this valiant nun and the children she protected, and pray for the men who unknowingly sent them to their deaths. Only one of my grandfather's tank-mates is still alive. Please pray for his peace of mind, and that he finds the strength to forgive himself. Pray for the peace of my grandfather's soul. Then take a moment and pray for the valiant men and women who are at war today, who will be called upon to make life and death decisions for other people. Pray that the decisions they make are the ones which ensure the safety and well-being of those for whom they are responsible. Pray for and end to war, that little children the world over may grow up in peace and safety.

Welcome!

Welcome Czech Republic to the Sidebar! Thanks for stopping by, please come again!

Crow's feet

Here is the long awaited picture of my crow's feet. Yes, it really is my eye. I would only post it in it's natural state in the interest of science. We will see if one month is long enough to make the crow's feet(or goose's paw, in France) go away.

Just for you. One naked eye. Excuse me please while I go put on some mascara.


Interesting to note: My perpetually chapped lips are no longer chapped, and the skin on my face no longer needs lotion in the morning.

The Birthday Guest

#4 will be four years old in a couple weeks. She's very excited. All she can talk abut is what she wants to do for her birthday, and where she wants to go, and what kind of cake we're going to have. All delivered in that heart melting almost four year old girl hopping up and down excitement.

We told her she could invite ONE friend to our house for dinner and cake. Their family can come, too, of course. We all wondered which friend would be her one friend. She is our impossibly shy child and takes very few people to heart, but once she does, she loves them forever. One of her favorite people in the whole world is our very stern, very orthodox priest, Father F.

All through Mass, she whispered, "I'll bet Farther F. likes cake. I'll bet he likes birthday cake. Do you think he likes pizza?" After being shushed a hundred times and told to be quiet or Father would have a talk with her after Mass (and he would), she finally sat down and waited. She sat swinging her little legs, smiling to herself, and thinking....

After Mass, she ran up to the priest, hopped up and down and said, "Father F., would you be my one birthday friend? I think you like cake and pizza, and we are having cake and pizza. Will you come to my birthday?"

He looked at my tiny daughter, smiled the broadest smile and said, "I do like pizza, and I like cake, and I like you. So, yes. I will come to your birthday and be your one birthday friend."

She nodded her head regally and pronounced, "Then you may cut my birthday cake."

The Experiment...or ..Let Me Be Your Guinea Pig

When I saw my 80+ grandmother a few months ago, I was shocked! She looked as if she'd had a face lift. If you knew my grandmother, you'd know why this is ridiculous. She is the least likely woman on earth to have plastic surgery. What was her secret? She'd been eating aloe vera. Yes, that slimy plant for scrapes and sunburns. Yes, it's gross. Yes, it worked.

I should explain. When my grandmother was a young girl, she was burned over 60% of her body. She has extensive scarring on her body and arms. It itches. A lot. She also has eczema. It itches. A lot. Her doctor, who has tried everything else, told her that the "old fashioned" treatment was to tell a patient to eat an inch of aloe vera every day. That was all it took.

Grandma is a fantastic gardener and has aloe growing everywhere. Every morning for a month, she got up, cut a piece of the plant, skinned it, and ate the gooey insides. Within a week, she was less itchy. Within a month, the itch was gone and she noticed softer skin. Then she noticed that her hair was softer and people started asking if she'd had some work done.

Well, that convinced me. I need to try it. I'm in my thirties with the beginnings of crow's feet that I'd rather live without. I'm not really into surgery, but I'll try this. I'll be honest, it took me a couple months to get up the courage to even try it. It really is slimy, but surprisingly tasteless. I peeled a bit and swallowed it whole. It will be interesting to see if it really works. I'll be your guinea pig, or you can try the experiment with me. 30 days. An inch a day. How long before we see results? Or, is my grandmother losing it? Or, (gasp) has she had a lift and doesn't want to let me know? This could be a clever ruse....

I'll post crow's feet pictures every Wednesday. You can compare them and judge for yourself. I looked it up on line, and it's not poisonous, and there seems to be some agreement that this works. We all know that we can trust everything we read on the internet, so it must be safe.

Anyway, the experiment day 1. I ate the aloe vera. It wasn't as bad as I expected. My crow's feet look the same.

(I'll post pictures later today. I have to pluck my eyebrows first.)

Chicken Fried Steak

I'm a Southern girl, and perhaps a bit of a redneck, but I love a nice fried steak with cream gravy. Add some whipped potatoes and fried okra, and you have a meal good enough for even the pickiest eaters.

Imagine my dismay, when the only interest in hiring my husband is coming from New England. What does that have to do with a nice fried steak? They don't know how to make them. In fact they turn up their noses at it. And okra? I'm not sure they'd know what to do with a bushel of okra if you handed it to them. Know what kind of people don't fry their steaks? Yankees, that's who.

I have nothing against our Northern countrymen, not personally. I am sure that they are fine individuals. They just don't know how to cook. They just don't understand that everything from steaks, to pickles to moon pies taste better once you've battered and fried them. They don't understand that a stick of butter is not something to be used sparingly, you dump the whole thing in, it makes stuff taste better.

They also live their lives at full speed. I guess no one ever told them to slow down a bit and enjoy the view. I don't think they get that girls are called sweetie and darlin' and don't take offense, but would be offended if you didn't sweet talk 'em a bit. My grandma once told me that the best way to get a man was "to chase him until he catches you." Look! The southern girls are nodding and the northern ones are confused. It's just a different approach to life. Yankee gals like to live their lives straight forward with no games, and we know that a world where men are allowed to be men and have their vanities stroked a bit is bound to be a nice place for a woman to live.

Could you imagine me in the frozen North? Me either. I would show up in the land of Martha Stewart looking like something a 5 year old painted, not at all tasteful or restrained, and I don't know that the neighbors would survive the shock.

Nope, I have nothing against Yankees. I'm sure they're fine folks. I just don't want to be one. If you want to know why, come on down and I'll explain it to you. You can sit with me on the back porch in the evening and watch the lightning bugs dance in the summer twilight while the hoot owls call their lonesome tidings to each other. We'll sip our ice cold Dr Peppers as the citronella candle burns and the dogs and children romp in the yard and tell lies to each other about the "good old days" as we snack on our moon pies.


I know y'all need the recipe, so here it is!

The Mom's Chicken Fried Steak and Cream Gravy

Steak
3 cups all purpose flour
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1 large egg beaten
1 tsp baking powder
table salt and ground black pepper
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 cup buttermilk (or soured milk if you're in a pinch)
6 cube steaks pounded to 1/3 inch thickness
4-5 cups peanut oil (you can use another kind if you can't find peanut, but peanut is the best.)

Cream Gravy

1 med onion diced
1/8 tsp dried thyme
2 med cloves garlic minced
3 tbsp flour
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 cups milk (whole is better)
3/4 tsp table salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
cayenne pepper

For the Steaks
1. Mix flour, 5 tsp salt, 1 tsp black pepper, and cayenne into a shallow dish.
2. In 2nd dish, mix egg, baking powder, and baking soda. Stir in Buttermilk. It will foam.
3. Pat steaks dry with paper towels. Salt and pepper to taste.
4. Heat oil in skillet to 375 degrees
5. Dredge steaks in flour, then dip in buttermilk mixture, then back into the flour.
6. Put steak into oil and fry until golden brown. Turn it once. Fry until golden on other side.
7. Put on plate lined with paper towels to drain.

For the Gravy
1. Take browned bits from frying pan along with 2 tbsp of frying oil ans begin browning onions and thyme in pan.
2. Add garlic and cook about 30 sec.
3. Add flour and stir about 1 minute. Whisk in broth.
4. Add milk, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Simmer over medium-high until thickened, about 5 minutes.

Put steak on plate, and smother with a generous helping of gravy. Take a bite and kiss the cook! Yes sir, it's that good!

It's a Sad Day

My one year old hurt his wrist, and the first thing I thought of before taking him to the emergency room was "I hope this isn't enough to get DHS involved." (Department of Human Services...social workers)

He fell off my bed this morning before Mass. No big deal, just misjudged where the edge was and plopped right off onto his back. He cried, I held him. He was fine. Then he started whimpering during Mass. When we got home, he tried to crawl and his arm gave way from the pain. His wrist was swollen and red. He just laid there and sobbed.

Should I take him to the ER? Should I call our family doctor? Was I overreacting? I have a history of that, you know. But it was the ER that scared me. I one took #4 to the ER, only to decide once I was in the waiting area, that I had completely overreacted and I was going home. No dice. The doctor told me that if I walked out the door he would call Child Protective Services and they would meet me at my front door to take her away, and that I would probably lose my other children as well. He admitted us to the local children's hospital on a 72 hour watch, they did a spinal tap, and put her on an IV. None of which was needed it turned out, because at the end of our enforced 3 days in the hospital, the doctor told me "I think you were right. You just overreacted."

I don't go to the ER for just anything anymore. They have to have a limb hanging by a thread, or be on fire, or something even more serious before I admit these people to take a peek inside my family. It makes me nervous. I could lose my children over something as simple as a sprained wrist on a one year old and a doctor who doesn't like big families, or thinks I'm rude, or is having a bad day.

It's a sad day in America when you have to consider whether or not you will lose your children when assessing how much help they need. Is he in enough pain for me to risk it? When the pain of your child has to be weighed against the risk to your family, I think medicine has failed us.

This is the problem with the nanny state which is popping up around us. When adults are no longer considered to be capable of making decisions, parents are the enemy, and children belong to the "village which is raising them", when we are all considered to be incapable of thinking for ourselves, that is past the point at which a system has become abusive and needs to be reformed. Doctors and nurses are not social workers and should not be put into the position of constant suspicion.

That's my rant for today. My child's pain should be bigger than someone else's political agenda. It's not. Therefore, I called our general practitioner who told me to wrap it and bring him in first thing in the morning. He said, "I'm sure it's fine, but we'll check it in the office tomorrow. My big concern is that an injured wrist in a one year old would set off child abuse alarms in the minds of the people who would look at him. If it seems worse, call me and I'll meet you at the ER." It's nice to know I'm not a paranoid lunatic, and that we have a very nice doctor.