Random Mom Facts - Updated

It's been a while since we've played this game.  Ten random facts, only one is not true.

1.  I worked one year as a life guard.  While taking my test, I had to "save" a 300+ pound man from drowning while he kept trying to drown me.  I weighed maybe 100 pounds and was under 5 feet tall.  After wrestling with him for almost 2 minutes, I clamped my hand onto the manlier parts of his anatomy and let him know I meant business.  He stopped struggling; I didn't hurt him.  I think that's a fair trade.  True.  Coach Baker gave me a wide berth after that.

2.  I once rebuilt a VW engine by myself using the "Volkswagon Repair for Dummies" book.  I'm no dummy, but those books are great.  They taught me that a smart girl with a wrench can fix almost anything.  False.  I've done just about everything  else to a VW except rebuild it.

3. A friend of mine and I painted a mural for our high school cafeteria.  The subject matter was dull, so we hid 27 cats, both living and dead, into the mural.  Sometimes, I wonder if they've ever noticed.  True.  If you go to my alma mater, it's the "History of Art" mural.  Start looking under the tire of the '57 Chevy and go from there.

4. I once begged my best friend to let me dissect the frog in Biology.  Nothing doing.  I got to the the earthworm, she got to do the frog.  She always was selfish like that.  True.

5. I had an allergic reaction to stress when #2 was in the hospital and broke out in hives from head to toe.  I never knew you could be allergic to an emotion.  True.

6. Decided California was not the place for me as I sat on the beach one morning and naked hippies ran past me into the water where they frolicked, splashed and played.  (They had to be at least 50 years old.  Honestly, nobody wants to see that.) I called my father that afternoon and told him this Texas girl was coming home.  True.  What I would've given for some eye bleach.

7. Left a 2 week old at home with my sweet husband to go to a Billy Joel concert with my dear friend Joanne.  For two old ladies we sure could dance and man could we scream!  True.  I love Billy Joel.

8.I knew I would marry the Computer Guy after our first date.  I called my mom and said, "I just went out on a date with (insert name here), the man I'm going to marry."  She replied "What's his last name?"  I told her, "I don't know, that's what second dates are for."  True, just ask my mom.

9. Once had purple and green hair.  It didn't last long, but I'm still boring my children with stories about it.  True.  Doug, you didn't always live with me.

10.  I'll always be grateful to my mother for teaching me to eat anything on my plate without making a face.  I've eaten stir-fried crickets in college, calf fries with friends,  and lamb's eyes at Ramadan, all with a lovely smile on my face.  I'm the queen of control, you so don't want to play poker with me.  Gross, but true.

God Made Me Do It

I saw her behind me in the grocery store check out line, the girl who could have been me 12 years ago.   Her tiny girl was perched in the seat of the shopping cart and looked much too small to be sitting up so steadily.  Her protruding belly announced to all the world that her second child be arriving within the month.  She looked tired and wrung out and sported a streak of cookie slime on her left shoulder.

I spoke to her briefly and she smiled with true joy even as her eyes looked too weary to stay open much longer.  The girl was 10 months old and small for her  age; the boy was due next month and big for his.

I could tell by the way her eyes kept darting from one item in her cart to another that she was nervously counting and re-counting the amount of money she would spend.  She probably knew to the penny how much the total would be and was just reassuring herself  that she wouldn't have to put anything back.  She fidgeted and looked in her coupon envelope and rubbed the baby's back and then counted everything again. 

I've often said that I wish I could go back and help the girl I was then, struggling to pay every bill and meet every deadline while also keeping my small ones fed.  Then suddenly, here I was in the grocery store check out line staring at an earlier vision of myself.  I mentally shook myself, paid for my groceries, wished her a good day and made to leave.  She smiled at me, then apologized to the clerk as she began to count out pennies to pay for her milk.

I took two more steps and then could go no further.  There was a $20 in my wallet that I had tucked back for a pedicure.  A still, small voice reminded me that I really didn't need it. I thought of that $20 and could not take another step.  I pulled it out, and folded it in half.  I turned and walked back to this younger version of me and slid it into her hand.

"This belongs to you." I said. "God told me it was yours." Then I turned and walked away before she could thank me.  I didn't need thanks.  I just needed to sit for a moment and catch my breath.

To Slow Us Down

As is a week of Emergency Rooms, Lego eating, and worry weren't enough, it now looks as though #6 caught the flu while we were in one hospital or another.  It confirms my suspicion that hospitals are really just a great place to get sick.

Or it could be God's way of telling us that we need to slow down.  His way of keeping us quiet and at home, a brief respite from our usual whirlwind lives.  We can take a hint.  An ice storm in Oklahoma and a 6 month old with the flu, and all our weekend plans have been canceled. It's too bad that this is what it takes to get us to take a break. 

Reality

Last week I had the privilege of meeting a long time blog reader in person.  I worry that I may have disappointed her.

The person I am in real life is not the same as the person I am online.  I'm just not funny in real life.  I'm amusing, sarcastic, and irreverent, but I'm just not funny.  My husband confirms this for me often when he remarks "You're so funny when you write."  I'm okay with this.  I think it would be a lot of pressure to be the "funny" friend.

The wonder of writing is that I can think, edit and then re-think every word I put in print.  Real life isn't like that.  In real life I tend to be much more rash and brusque.  I get annoyed a lot more easily because I don't have the luxury of slowing down and really thinking before I formulate a response to things.  My real-life brain goes in strange and seemingly illogical directions which only my closest friends can easily follow.  They are used to the strange turns our conversations take.

I need for life to come with a delete key.  How much wiser and more wonderful could I be if I were able to edit myself?  How much easier would my life be if I could think for as long as I needed before responding to people?  Can you imagine standing in the checkout line at the grocery store and just stopping to think about exactly how to phrase the response to the questions "Are they all yours?  Do you want any more?"  If I could just stop time to think a bit, how much wiser could I appear?

Life doesn't work that way.  We all have to respond to things as they are thrown at us.  Sometimes we hit upon exactly the right things to say and sometimes we leave people scratching their heads and wondering how this odd person with not much to say writes the things you love to read.

To my sweet blog-reader, you are lovely.  I hope you the reality matched the imagination.  If not, I hope I was better.   We won't even discuss any other possibilities.

He Returns

As I sit at the keyboard, our sweet boy is slumbering upstairs in his own bed.  He is curled up with Reddo the Dragon, underneath his star blanket, and sleeping that boneless sleep of childhood.

While he recharges his batteries for tomorrow's mischief, I am filled with relief and gratitude.  Gratitude to God, Our Father, for protecting my sweet son through this whole ordeal and for gifting his father and myself with the strength we needed during it.  Gratitude also to our family and friends for their help and constant prayer, and to the readers of this blog for the outpouring of love and prayers for a child many of you will never personally know.

I am struck by the bounty of good in this world.  Many people will complain about the evils of the modern age, but I know the truth.  A small boy in Oklahoma ate some Legos, and people from all over the world bowed their heads in prayer for him.  What a wondrous time this is indeed.

It All Works Itself Out In The End...Hopefully

Just an update on our #3 in the hospital.  For now, the doctor who wants to let things take their own course out of his body is winning.  My sweet Computer Guy is sitting at the hospital with our son waiting for him to..well...poop.

The surgeon who just wants to get this done is waiting in the wings should he be called into action.  I hope he stays right where he is.  I'm sure he's a nice man, but right now I picture him as this evil lurking over  to the side waiting to hurt my boy.   I know that if we need him he'll instantly become my knight in shining armor, let's have him stay evil, okay?

I'm home today with the rest of the children, trying to reassure them and sneak in an extra hug or two whenever I can.  I need those reassuring hugs as much as they do.

So, that's our update, we're waiting on poop.Not exciting, but so much better than the alternative.

Every Superman Has His Kryptonite

#3 is our very own superhero, handsome and chivalrous and full of daring-do.  Like most comic book heroes, he has his weaknesses.  Superman has Kryptonite, #3 has Legos and small shiny things.  They do not weaken him on their own, but he finds them irresistible.  He eats them

When he was little, we knew he liked to chew things.  We found chewed up bits of plastic all over our house, but as he got older we found fewer and fewer until the day we found none.  What a relief those days were.  It never occurred to us that he was still chewing them; he was just hiding the evidence by swallowing them down.

We were in the dark until last Thursday when the toilet in the children's bathroom stopped working.  It was plugged up with a pile of half-digested plastic bricks.  We took him to our family doctor who was concerned, but not overly so.  He scheduled a CT scan for today and told us to take it easy over the weekend and keep an eye on his diet.

Last night just after midnight, he lurched into our room holding his belly and moaning.  "It hurts," he said.  We knew his appointment was for lunchtime today and so we tried to settle him down thinking that having plastic bits making their way through your intestines was bound to be uncomfortable.  He slept on the floor in the bathroom because he felt "throw-up-y".  His dad curled up with him and rubbed his back.

At 8 this morning, he was writhing in pain and grinding his teeth.  I helped him dress, threw on the first clean clothes I found, grabbed #6 and left for the Emergency Room.  Our appointment was at 1:00, and I knew we'd never make it that long.

His belly was probed, x-rayed and scanned, then he was rushed by ambulance to Children's Hospital.  He's still there tonight.  His big, strong dad is still sitting next to him and rubbing his back and helping him feel better.  The doctors are debating between seeing what Nature can do, and surgery.  Please say a prayer tonight that they choose Nature.  Please pray that they don't have to cut open my baby.

The world needs super-heroes, I know this because I live with one, so I know how wonderful they can be. 

Thanks Be to God for This Day

Non nobis, non nobis, Domine
Sed nomini tuo da gloriam.

Not to us, not to us, o Lord,
But to your name give glory.

Joining in with other Catholic bloggers to thank God for the victory in Massachusetts, which may not have halted but  has slowed down the death march in Washington.  For more info, go on over to Creative Minority Report.

Honeymoonin'

We got married 14 years ago in June. We were poor.  If you've never had to choose between buying groceries and paying the gas bill, you've never been as poor as we were on that cloudy, wonderful day.  We had no honeymoon, just two nights at a local hotel, and it was a stretch for us to pay for that second night.  I knew that it would be alright, because eventually, we'd graduate from college and earn some money and then we'd have a romantic vacation together, just the two of us.

#1 arrived that first year, and we were no wealthier.  #2 came the year my sweet Computer Guy graduated from college.  There were no get-aways for us.  Our vacations were all trips to my in-laws' because children need to know their grandparents, and we got to relax a bit as there were two other people who would love to hold the sweet children.  Those weeks in Corpus Christi were great, but there's not much romance when your mother-in-law is the light sleeper in the next room.

We've never been away, just the two of us.  It's something I miss.  I have no memories of exploring with him and relaxing with him and just making memories to laugh about in private jokes with him.  There are days when I am tired of being a mother and just want to take a break and be a wife.

We get our chance at last.  I've cooked up a secret plan with the Computer Guy's Boss to get him out of town for a few days and help him to remember the guy I married who didn't work all the time and wasn't so stressed.  (When your boss notices it, you really need a vacation.)

I'm not saying where we're going, just that it's somewhere peaceful and quiet. For four days, it will be just the two of us, and #6.  Yes, we're at that point in our lives where a weekend away with the 6 month old is a vacation and terrifically romantic.  Just us.  For a long weekend.  Just a few more weeks, but I've waited this long, the last stretch will be easy.

Time For a Better Bra

A child I know and love asked,  "When you feed the baby, are you going to use your belly things?"

I'm thinking I may need to hoist the girls up a bit higher.

Two Steps Back ...or, God Still Thinks I'm Funny and I Don't Blame Him

I was on a roll this morning. The laundry's in the machine. The children are learning with a minimum of fuss. The kitchen floor is mopped. Yes, I was feeling fine and congratulating myself on my efficiency.

The kitchen would be sparkling by the time the Computer Guy came home for lunch.


I reached under the sink for cleanser to put the finishing touches on the stove top, that trusty green can of cleanliness.  Not the usual brand, but we're bargain shoppers here.  Green can, under the sink=cleanser.

I was scrubbing and humming happily to myself.  I started thinking that this new cleaner wasn't all it was cracked up to be.   It smells bad, and makes a weird paste on everything I try to clean.  Who was the cheapskate who bought this cr*p anyway?

I looked at the label for directions.  Was I doing this wrong?  I've never claimed to be the world's best housekeeper, but how dumb do you have to be to forget how to scrub a stove?

There were no instructions on the back.  I just kept scrubbing.  This is possibly the worst kitchen cleaner ever.  Once I get it off of my appliances, I'm definitely writing a letter to tell them how awful their product is.  Just let me get a look at this label.  Maybe there's a phone number on here to call customer service and complain.

On second thought, somehow I don't think they'll be surprised that it doesn't clean that well at all. 

Christmas Babies

Upon checking my hit counter this morning, I noticed an unusually high number of hits on my post about the abortion drug RU-486. As I wrote it over 2 years ago, I wondered what was up. Had I been linked to by someone new? Nope, they were all individual Google searches. 23 in the past 36 hours. What's going on?

They're the Christmas babies. People go home for the holidays, or get lonely, and have a little fling. Christmas babies.

I saw it last year, too. In the weeks following mid-January (and those positive pregnancy tests) my numbers will soar as people try to decide between a chemical or a surgical abortion. They will read of my own experience and try to decide what is the right decision for themselves. How I wish I could hold their hands, these desperate women, and look into their eyes and tell them the truth that I know. Having the baby is infinitely easier than not having the baby.

Christmas babies. Hope and love and joy for the world, growing in danger. A single decision away from death by poison or machine. A single Google search could make the difference between life and death. What an impossibly strange world this has become. Please add your prayers to mine for all of these gifts of the Holiday Season, that they may all live to see another one.

A Visible Sign of Authority

Like most of the world, I have been watching the news from Haiti with the mix of horror and fascination that just won't let me completely look away. I had the news on on Sunday morning as we were getting ready for Mass too see if relief was beginning to reach the people.

ABC news had a reporter standing in front of a relief truck. (I don't know who she was, if you saw this report and know, please fill me in.) She remarked how the people were so desperate for food and water that when the truck first appeared, they mobbed around it and began to rock the truck in their desperation. Then, she reported, a single priest and a young nun walked up through the crowd and they quieted down and order appeared from chaos. They had not spoken, these "unlikely" heroes, but their mere presence was enough to bring calm.

What is it about the sight of a man in a Roman collar or a woman in a traditional habit (in this case, the Sisters of Charity), that instills confidence in the frightened and hungry people of Haiti? It has nothing to do with the people themselves, I doubt these two were well-known to the mob around the truck. It was the symbols of authority that they both wore upon their bodies. Symbols which proclaimed to all present that they were there, not for personal gain, but as the representatives of Christ Himself. The very sight of a Bride of Christ and an earthly Father spoke to the very hearts of the people. They were loved; they were cared for; God had not abandoned them in their hour of desperate need.

How much would our own nation benefit from seeing properly clad nuns and priests walking the streets of our own country? If the polyester pant-suited sisters would once again don their habits, how much more respect would they receive? How much more good could the do? If our priests wore their collars proudly in public instead of changing into civilian clothes before they went to the grocery store, how much more visible would the presence of the Church be? It is tough to be a faithful Catholic in modern day America. How much would we gain from seeing them live their vocations out loud?

More Teaching With You Tube

We're studying the American Revolution, so what do we watch?

1776, what else?

Why We Homeschool

#4 (who is 5) this morning said, "Mom, did you know that William the Conqueror won the Battle of Hastings?"

Me: "Yes, I did. Do you know who he beat?"

#4: "Harold."

Me: "Oh. And why did he have to fight Harold ?"

#4: "Because Edward was king and had no sons, so they made Harold king, but William wanted to do it. So William killed him and he got to do it."

Me: "That's exactly right. How did you get so smart?"

#4: "#3 told me."

Me: "#3 is 8. How does he know the Battle of Hastings?"

#4: "He read it of course."

of course.

Mistake #1, May There Be No More

A boy asked our eldest for her phone number this week. It's not surprising, I guess. She's 13 and looks older and is gorgeous. It's been hell on her father, the whole gorgeous thing. The boy asking for her number got him thinking about what kind of ammunition we have on hand.

It started out innocently. He's on the basketball team; she's a cheerleader. He friended her on Facebook; I'm beginning to hate Facebook. He sent her an email saying he'd like to get to know her better, could he call he sometime.

My daughter thought about for approximately half a second and decided that this young man was not up to her very high standards, as she thinks only young men who know how to spell and actually understand punctuation should be considered as potential anythings. She also readily admits that she's too young for romance.

She asked me for advice on blowing him off but being nice about it. I messed up. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. I told her to politely reply that she was flattered, but that her parents don't allow her to give out her number to boys who are not already family friends. I should have stopped it myself.

He wrote back and suggested that my sweet girl should get a cell phone to talk to him behind our backs. My daughter read his suggestion and then said aloud, "I already have a cell phone. Why would I need another one........Oh. He wants me to lie.....He wants me to lie and sneak and....lie." I should have stepped in.

She wrote back, "I am not in the habit of lying to my parents or of hanging out with people who encourage me to do so." The snot replied "I thought you liked me."

I ended it there. I should have ended it in the beginning.

I made the mistake of thinking that because she looks older and acts older and has a good head on her shoulders, that she was ready to handle this simple thing with a little guidance. She was not. She was upset over having to be mean. It bothered her to hurt his feelings. She was the perfect example of how teenagers aren't ready for this. They are not ready for their minds to battle their emotions.

It is my job to protect her, may I have the wisdom and foresight that is necessary to give her the protection she deserves.

In the Elevator

#2 and I were at the courthouse today to pick up some records, and were joined on the elevator by Thug Boy. You've probably seen him in a town near you with his knitteed cap pulled down to his eyebrows,his saggy jeans, and ours came with a summons in his hand for the Criminal Court.

I looked at the floor. I looked at the wall. I looked anywhere except at Thug Boy.

I looked at #2 who was wearing his jacket hood inside the building.

"#2," I said in my best mom voice, "is there some reason that you are wearing a hat inside of a building? Inside of a building that has ladies inside of it? Are you trying to show them, by your lack of respect, that you think they aren't ladies?"

"No, mom, my ears were cold."

I gave him that mom look where I look straight at him and raise an eyebrow and wait.

He took off his hood.

"Thank you." I said, and then looked up in time to see Thug Boy hang his head and blush as he pulled the cap off of his own head.

"I'm not your mom, you know. I wasn't talking to you." I said with a smile.

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled that embarrassed little boy smile he's probably had for the whole of his life. "Just the same...." he answered.

I couldn't help but think that a strict mom with a mean mom voice might have kept him out of that elevator altogether. Either that, or I really am "the Mom." I should get a cape and a sidekick and go out to scold the world into removing their hats indoors, and wiping their feet, and using their napkins and always saying "Yes, Ma'am."

Just think of all the good I could do....if only I had the time....and a cape. I definitely need a cape.

Not Quite Mobile

but something tells me that it won't be long.

This is for the grandparents. Here's #6 doing his thing.

Olly-Olly-Oxen-Free

I read on another blog that this is International De-Lurker Day.  If it's not, she made up a holiday and I'm cool with that.  This is your chance to say hello and my opportunity to meet the readers.

"Hello, readers."

So, come out in public and introduce yourself.  I promise not to point and mock, unless you're that weird kid who ate the hamster food in 5th grade.  If you are him, I promise to not be too cruel, but seriously..hamster food?  What were you thinking?

P.S. After today you can absolutely slip back into anonymity if you want, until next year.

If By Prayer...

"Do you pray?"

It's a common question in the Bible Belt.  It's ranks up there with "Are you saved?" and "What church do you go to?"  It's the way people in this part of the country tell "our people" apart from "not our people."

I've become accustomed to all three, although at first I found them a bit nosy and intrusive.  As a Catholic, I was not raised to ask those questions of strangers.  It's rude.  It ranks right up there with asking someone how much money they make.  It just isn't done in polite society, except it is here.

I have answers for the other two ready to go at a moment's notice, but the "Do you pray?" one is different.  I always answer "Not as often as I should."   It's not the right answer.  "Do you pray?"  It depends what you call prayer.

If by prayer they are meaning the fold your hands and bow your head kind....I do.  I do at every meal, well not always breakfast.  It's not that I'm not grateful for breakfast, it's just usually eaten on the run or in a hurry, and a granola bar doesn't seem like much of a meal.  I should be better about breakfast.  I'm good about the other two meals and bedtime prayers with the children, do if this is what you mean by prayer, then yes, at least 3 times a day.

If by prayer they mean a long hushed conversation with God where I pour out my thoughts and concerns either out loud or in my own head... not often.  The chaos and fatigue of 6 children, 1 husband, and 2 dogs means constant interruption.  I love this type of prayer, but it only seems to happen when the baby wakes up at 3:00 and is nursing in the quiet warmth of my bed.  I may not always be coherent at 3 AM, but I do my best to not doze off.  It's warm and quiet and my days are long.

If by prayer they mean simply talking to God and being grateful...I do.  I do it dozens of times a day.  I sit in the still quiet of my living room nursing #6, in that one moment before the noise erupts again, look to Heaven and just say "Thank you" out loud.  I go running in the muggy air of summertime Oklahoma and the skies open in a quick downpour, just enough to cool me off and I smile and laugh and shake my head because I was just about to say "How about a little rain?"  so I look up and say "You're funny.  Thanks.  I needed that."  My day is a constant stream of big and mostly little gifts for which I thank Him.

If by prayer, they mean do I let myself feel the love and joy of God...oh, yes.  It is one of the best parts of my day.  I simply bask in the love of my Creator and let myself feel the joy of being His beloved girl.  I breathe in His presence all around me and smile and say "Hi."  Other times, I literally sing out in my joy in His presence.  Can the song that goes "me and you, and you and me.."be a prayer?  I sing it to Him all the time.  I like to think it makes Him smile.   Sometimes it's nice to simply sit in the Presence of God and just be.  Is that a prayer?  I think it may be.

If by prayer they mean do I go to church...absolutely.  How do I put into words the ultimate prayer experience which is the Mass?  How do I say that the best form of prayer is sacrifice and that there is no sacrifice greater than that which is re-presented every single time in the Holy Sacrifice which is the Mass?  It is the gas that keeps me going from week to week.  It is the prayer which lifts me up and allows me to sing with the choirs of angels.  It is the solemn and serene point of my week where all my worries melt away and I get to stand in the actual physical presence of my Lord.


Do I pray?  They have no idea.

..and now on to 2010

Did you stay up late last night and watch the ball drop? Good for you. I went to bed early. I need the sleep. I have a 5 month old who seems to be opposed to sleep.

Instead, I got up this morning to work on my resolutions. I'm posting them here so I don't forget them.

1. Stop being so hard on myself about the way I look.  I used to be the chubby one, now I'm the thin-ish one.  I still weigh the same.  I didn't have to lose weight, just wait for everyone else to get fat. 
2. Start getting rid of all the extra stuff in my house.  It's just stuff and I don't want to have to move it.  (Didn't I tell you?  Dallas...18-24 months.   I hate Dallas.)
3. Stop telling people "I hate Dallas" when I tell them we're moving. 
4. Find ways to cook healthier meals. I cook like Paula "add a stick of butter to that" Deen, I need to cook like someone a little further north.   Their stuff doesn't taste as good.  Find a way to make Paula Deen healthier.
5. Get back into running.   There's a lot of satisfaction in knowing you can run 10 miles even if you don't look like you can.  I think I need new shoes first.  Any suggestions for me Imelda?
6. Write a book.  Y'all keep sending me e-mails asking me to write a book.  I'll give it a whirl, but no promises that it will ever see the light of day.  You already get my blog, isn't that enough?
7. Write on my blog more often.
8. Be too busy for the first 3 months of the year for the people who are emotional vampires.  "I'm sorry, I can't talk right now...I'm too busy."   Then pray for them.  I have to find my own sanity before I can help anyone else locate theirs.
9. Pray more.  With words.  

That's my list.  Have anything I should add?  Anything I should take off?  You know I can't do this without you.
     10.  Learn to do this without you.