Yes, We Are This Pathetic

#1 and I are in mourning today.  We just learned that the Phelps brothers, who play Fred and George Weasley in all the Harry Potter movies, are really brunettes.  We find this deeply disturbing and are going to spend the rest of the day consoling ourselves with cookies and chocolate milk.  How could Hollywood lie to us like this?

Lessons in Politics from #2

Overheard in my kitchen this morning.

#3: "So Chinese people don't believe in God?"

#2: "They can't.  It's against the law."

#3: "Why?"

#2: "I think it's so the people in charge can be the gods.  They only get to have one baby, too"

#3: "What do they do if they have another one?  Kill it?"

#2: "Yeah.  They kill them or punish the parents."

#3: "That's not very nice."

#2: "They're Communists.  I don't think they're worried about nice."

Indeed.

Chivalry Is Not Dead

#3 has built a castle, a 2 1/2 foot tall and 7 foot long cardboard castle.  It sprawls across our classroom floor and has become the focus of all play for the younger children since he built it a week ago.  On Friday, when he received his allowance, he stated that what he really needed was knights and a dragon.  "What," he asked me "is a castle without knights and a dragon?"

Yesterday we went in search of knights, which are surprisingly difficult to find.  After 2 hours and 6 stores, we found them in our local craft store.  He sat in the aisle for close to half an hour looking at all the different choices he had before finally settling on the Duc de Bretagne. ( His little sister and main playmate, #4, had come along to give her expert opinion, but she proved to be no help once she saw the fairies.)

After further debate, he decided not to purchase a second knight for battle, reasoning that he could buy a knight next week, but chose a purple dragon for slaying instead. 

With $18 of his $20 spent, my boy made his way to the check out counter with his little sister in tow.  The young man at the register asked if we had brought a coupon with us and then, upon hearing my child's sad 'no', pulled an extra out of his pocket.  40% off of one item and 30% off the entire purchase.  Pure joy lit #3's face as he realized he could afford another knight and horse after all.  He turned and ran back up the aisle to the end cap and when he returned he slapped his choice on the counter.

A fairy for his sister so that she can play, too.  "I'll just save for another knight and horse.  I just wanted #4 to be able to play with me." 

Chivalry is not dead.  It is alive and well and playing with the cardboard castle downstairs in my classroom.

Beautiful Spaces

This weekend, our parish officially unveiled and blessed our new pulpit/ambo/thinga-majiggy.  It is gorgeous and is an important step in the renovations our priest is making in the Sanctuary.  With small steps, he is wiping out the ugliness of 80's architecture and restoring to us the beauty of Sacred Space.  I am so very grateful to him.

The change in our parish is forcing me to take a hard look at the space around me.  We like to think that our home is a place where God is welcome, where we invite Him into our family and our lives, but can He be found in the cluttered chaos which is my home?  Not "Is He here?" but can He be found?  Or does the mess and the chaos shield His calming presence from us? 

Messiness is very tedious and exhausting not just to my soul, but to my eyes and mind as well.  In all of that fatigue, where is God?  He is ever-present, to be sure, but who has the energy to seek Him?  I know that I do not.

I have spent to whole of Lent fasting and praying in an effort to purge from myself that which is not "of God."  I have left this part alone.  It is the most difficult because it is not just myself but the whole of my family which has fallen into this trap.  I am truly beginning to see it as a trap of the Evil One.  There is a reason behind the cliche "cleanliness is next to godliness"  I have scoffed at this saying many times, but now am seeing it with clear eyes at last.  The mess is a barrier to the sound of God.  It is a wall between my Creator and myself.

I will be spending Holy Week in penitential cleaning.  Sweeping the cobwebs from my house and the clutter from my soul.  We will celebrate the Resurrection in a house which has been prepared to welcome the Lord to enter in, because if He knocked on my door today I'd be too embarrassed to let Him inside.

For the Guys - Mother's Day - Jewelry- You Knew It Was Coming

You knew I would get to jewelry sooner or later, didn't you?  It is Mother's Day and we are girls.  Girls like jewelry.  Bada bing.

I like James Avery earrings for Mother's Day.  They're pretty and come in just about any style you can imagine, plus they have hands-down the best earring warranty I have ever heard.  Let's be honest here, with all the small people being carried, the hasty dressing, the schlepping of stuff all over creation...women lose earrings.  To be honest we lose one earring and then the other one is completely useless to us.  We then tuck that sentimental earring in our jewelry boxes and mourn the loss of the one.  What are we going to do with that Christmas gift, throw it out?  Nope.  We keep that lonely earring forever.  So here's what James Avery does different from everyone else:

Earring Exchange Policy
If one of the earrings you buy from James Avery Craftsman is lost or destroyed, and it is in our current line, you can purchase another pair from us for one-half the price of the new pair plus your remaining earring. We know that one earring alone isn't much good, and we know that accidents do happen. So if you lose an earring or one is destroyed, don't worry. We are working to make sure that every pair of earrings you buy from our current line can remain as it was intended to be - a pair.
(Note: Diamond earrings are not covered under this policy. Customers may order a half pair to replace a lost or damaged earring, as long as the design is still available.)

No more lonely earrings!  There is no limit on this either.  (I have one pair I've replaced 3 times.)  This is great because not only does mom get pretty jewelry, but you've taken her worry away.  It doesn't get any better than that.

*I have not been compensated in any way for this endorsement.  I actually have, use, and love this product.*
Earrings pictured are Mother's Love Leverback, go here to get them.

Because Only Black People Eat Fried Chicken

The Oklahoma Legislative Black Caucus is in an uproar, they are calling for the sanction and admonishment of state Senator Randy Brogdon for supposedly  racist comments on the Senate floor.

The Senate was debating the newly-approved federal health care bill when Sen Brogdon asked if the government could tell the American people to buy health insurance what was next?  "Are we going to have to purchase fried chicken tomorrow for dinner?"

That's right, a white guy actually had the gall to utter the f and c words in public.  Who does he think he is to mention chicken which might have been fried?  Doesn't he know that there's a long racial history of black people and only black people eating fried chicken?  Forget about the fact that my grandmother makes it, as does every other Southern grandma I know.  Heck, Paula Deen once did an entire show on how to make fried chicken.  It is a racial thing, we white people wouldn't understand.

They're right.  I don't get it.  I don't understand the connection between Sen Blogdon's comments and racism.  When asked about it, the Senator admitted that he had just had chicken for lunch, so it was on his mind.  It doesn't matter the the Legislative Black Caucus, there is no excuse for such remarks.

Perhaps the problem lies not with the good Senator, but with the Caucus itself.  I'm not sure what their purpose for their organization is, or what they would like it to be, but I'm willing to bet they're working for equality.  I'd like to ask them how whining about a man who likes his chicken battered and fried does anything except make them look petty.  I'd also like to know how segregating themselves into a separate group based solely upon the color of their skin works to further their cause.  It seems to me that the biggest step they could make as a group would be to disband the caucus.

Somehow I doubt they would listen to me or even answer my questions.  I'm a white girl who likes to eat fried chicken.  But I'm a white girl, so maybe I'm not allowed to call it that.

Another Under $10 Mother's Day Idea to Make Her Swoon

I know you thought yesterday was a fluke, but I really am this good.  (Is it okay with you if I pat myself on the back a bit?  Thanks.)

This one is an all skate.  This is for wives with children, those who haven't yet begun to breed, and those who are living without children for whatever reason.  Ready?  Everybody in the pool!

A few years ago, on Valentine's Day, I wrote "100 Things I love about you" for the Computer Guy.  (Ladies, breathe.  I'm not suggesting a blog post for Mother's Day.  Stick with me.)  Write that list for your wife.  100 things you love about her.  Be specific.  "That mole that only we know about."  or "The Texas twang that only appears when you're tired or drinking."  Go see my list for some brainstorming help, but don't copy as she may read my blog.  Take a few days to write it, you have a month.  Once you have it typed up, take it to Kinko's or Office Depot, or some other printing place.  Have them use your list to create a booklet for your wife.  5 items on a page, on the good vellum paper, the size of a credit card, spiral bound, and with a plastic cover.  She can pop it into her purse or coat pocket and when life gets crazy, she can slip it out and read a few to remind her of all the reasons she is the woman you love.

You can get bonus points for its companion "The things we love about mom."  Ask the kids to write 10 items each and don't edit them.  Be sure to include the authors' ages.  You can add it all into your book or go for the 2 volume set.  Let the littlest one design the cover art.

I know you're waiting for the cost...it's around $5.00 per book and the time it takes to write it up.  You don't have to write love letters or poetry, just a list of what makes her your wife.  I triple guarantee this one.  Trust me.

*No one has paid me for this idea or endorsement, but they should.*

The Misfit's Challenge - Help Decorate My House

The Misfit, from IF, has graciously offered to help me figure out what to do with my problem room.  She's brilliant at design, and I'm not so much.  She said "Show me pictures of your room and of a room you like and I'll give you helpful hints" or something along those lines.  Yippee!  I may actually figure out this room before we move.  I thought some of you might like to play along.  Look at the pictures and tell me what you would do with this decorating dilemma.

 I think this room was supposed to be a formal dining room, but it is much too small for our family to use that way.  It is right off the entryway and between the kitchen and family room.  The only thing that is a must is the stained glass hanging in the window, it is too difficult to move and covers the view of my neighbor's ugly air conditioner.

Here are some pics of the family room, too.  It is not "done" but is the room I am happiest with so far.  It is the perfect green :)  (Green tea by Behr)  I like Art Deco, modern and antique thrown together in an eclectic mishmash.  I don't know if it's relevant, but I also collect Mexican Talavera pottery.

View from the entryway.

Family Room

One more of the Family Room









I can't wait to hear the suggestions.  P.S. The Green chairs were originally purchased for the piano room, but I couldn't find what I wanted for the Family Room.  If I found the right chairs for in there, they could be moved.

Helpful Hint for the Male Readers

Alright boys, it's just you and me now.  We all know that Mother's Day is sneaking up on us and that you haven't even thought about it.  We also know that you can be the hero from then until your anniversary if you figure out the right gift.  Relax.  Just breathe.  I'm here to help.  From now until May 9th I'll be posting ideas for my gentlemen readers.  (Ladies, if you have hints here, please chime in.)   Oh, and for those men whose wives are not/not yet moms, I'll have ideas for you too.

My first idea is "Mom Cards."  I know it sounds silly, but mom needs business cards, even if she stays at home.  They are an invaluable tool at the park, church, the grocery store, etc.  when she meets another mom, a baby sitter, a potential wine and pedicure friend.  Most moms have been in that awkward moment of trying to swap contact info and having no paper on which to write.  We end up using receipts, or old envelopes or whatever happens to be wadded up in the bottom of the diaper bag/purse.  It's not pretty and your wife deserves a bit more dignity than a nasty scrap of paper to hand over.  My own cards have my name, the names of my children, my phone number, my email address, and my blog address.  The women I hand them to always ooh and ahh over them as though I am the height of chic for having them.  Now here's the cool part.  They cost $6 including shipping.  You read that right.  When was the last time you got to be the good husband for less than $10?  Never, right?   Okay, so here's the deal: go to  vistaprint.com and get 250 FREE business cards and you just pay shipping.  The only catch is that you have to order them soon because it takes 3 weeks to get them.

How's that for a cool idea to start you off?  The key is to make her feel loved and appreciated without buying her a vacuum cleaner or a diaper bag.  Unless she asks for them, then you should listen.

*I have not been paid in any way for this endorsement.  I really have, use, and love this product.*

Gratitude in the Midst of It All

The two girls and I are sick.  We have the stomach yuck that the boys had last week.  We're not dying or anything, just curled up under warm blankets, eating dry toast, and watching television...and blogging, of course.  #4's warm little body is curled up next to mine and the deliciousness of her body heat is making me drowsy.

The boys are making their way slowly through their schoolwork, unsupervised.  Every now and again I hear the not-quite-patient voice of #2 explaining math to his younger brother.  #5 keeps  popping in and out of the room to lay his chubby almost-3-year-old hand upon my forehead and then his head upon my chest.  He shakes his head at us and says "Sowwy sick.  Wuv oo." and then goes back to the bowl of cereal his brothers keep refilling to keep him quiet and happy.  #1 is dozing in her own bed and alternating between sleeping and geometry homework.  I don't blame her, geometry makes me sleep, too.

Sick children, a never ending stream of sick children, is part of the horror of big families.  I get asked repeatedly what we do when we all get sick.  I don't know how to explain it in ways that people who've never had a large family can understand.  We just love each other.  We see the gaps in what needs to be done, and step into the holes.  My 10 year old did the dishes this morning because I was too nauseated to do it myself.  My 8 year old took the nasty towels to the laundry room when his sister complained about the mustiness of them.  He even brought a fresh one for her while she showered.

There is no magic to it.  It is simply a family.  Large and chaotic when we're all healthy, but compassionate and considerate when we are not.  It's not a trick; it's simply love.  I don't know how you teach them to be this way, they simply see the love of their parents for them and for each other, and assume that this is how the world should be.  This is truly one of the greatest benefits of large families, and I am so grateful for it

Does This Make Sense to You?

 *I'm rambling a bit here.  Last night's vote has me very upset.  Please excuse me if I make little to no sense.*


I could go on and on about the immorality of the Health Care Bill which was passed last night, but other people are doing that much better and more eloquently than I am capable of being at this moment.  I keep getting caught on one point which nobody has been able to adequately explain to me.   How does this help?

There are people in this country, who for reasons best known to themselves, choose not to pay a monthly premium for health insurance and choose instead to pay out of pocket for their expenses.  I've thought about this at times, and have dear friends who have made this decision for their own families.  Premiums for my family run around $1000 a month.  I don't think this is unreasonable, there are a lot of us.  It's just a lot of money.  It has only happened once in the 14 years we have been married that our medical expenses were higher than our insurance costs.  Last year, for example-If you add what we pay plus what my husband's employer pays our insurance cost roughly $14,000 for the year.  I had a baby, so we actually went to the hospital that year, and yet our total health care costs were $12, 890.  When you consider what we paid in co-pays and out of pocket expenses, we lost $2700 on this deal.  We would have been better off putting the money in a separate savings account and paying it all ourselves.  This might actually have been the fiscally responsible alternative.  I don't know.

Families who have made this decision for themselves have thought long and hard about this.  They are not making this sort of decision lightly.  They are spending their own money in the best way they can.   How does it make sense to fine them for choosing how to spend their own money?

Even more puzzling are the same fines levied upon families who can not afford insurance premiums.  The government is essentially saying "We know you can't afford to pay for this potentially helpful thing, so here's a bill for your fine, which gets you nothing."  Except you don't have to go to jail if you pay your fine and you do if you don't pay it.  Enforced consumerism.

People have equated this to the provisions requiring drivers to buy auto insurance.  It's simply not the same thing.  People have the choice about whether or not to drive, or own a car.  I suppose it could be argued that we now have the right to decide whether or not we want to live, and I'm sure the Democrats will make sure someone picks up the tab if we decide not to.

And Then God Laughed

Ah, the plans I had for our snow-enforced family weekend.  The lazy days spent together.....

Then #3 threw up all over his bed.  Laundry, make the bed, settle him down.

Then #6 threw up all over me.  Shower, laundry, put him to bed.  He did it again.  All over my bed at 2 AM.  Laundry, shower, make the bed, back to sleep.

This morning, #5 ...all over his bed, the hallway, the stairs.  Laundry, carpet cleaner, shower.

This is no longer looking like the fun and memorable weekend I planned.  It will be memorable, but in that "Remember when we were all snowed in and spent the entire weekend puking?" kind of way.

They say that to make God laugh all you have to do is tell him your plans.  I'm not sure I get the joke, but I hope He's laughing.

Bring on the Storm

After two days of gorgeous, albeit windy, spring weather, we are awaiting the arrival of yet another blizzard in Oklahoma.  The weather man predicts that this storm will make the white-out on Christmas Eve look small.  The whole state is panicking in anticipation.  Providing the power stays on, I can't wait.

We are too busy these days.  The Computer Guy works late, the children have something going on every night, and I have an endless list of errands to accomplish.   Well, stick a pin in it all.  It's going to snow.  Woo-hoo!

Our weekend of ice skating, soccer games, baby shower, "I may have to go into the office on Saturday", an extra early Sunday so #2 can serve Mass, the bake sale at church, CCD classes, Bible study, family dinner, etc. has been replaced by a simpler sort of plan: stay home, curl up with my husband, play chess with the kids, a round or two of Wii bowling, a big pot of soup bubbling on the stove, and watching the snow fall.

These are the kind of days we will remember forever.  The ordinary, over-scheduled, lose my mind busy days will fade, but the days of warm family memories when we were a world unto ourselves...these are the days they will remember when they are old.   How blessed we are to have them.

Think of us this weekend as your normal lives go on and try not to be too jealous of the fact that God put a bookmark in our schedule and gave us the gift of time to spend with each other.  Bring on the snow, I'm ready for it.

Dancing in the Donut Shop

Every Sunday after Mass, we pick up donuts on our way home.   The same order ever week: one dozen-3 maple bars, 4 double chocolate, 1 glazed, 2 white with sprinkles, 1 Bavarian cream, and an apple fritter.  Add a cup of hot chocolate and a large mocha latte and you have our Sunday treat.  Week after week.  Month after month.  It's part of the routine of my life.  Then the donut shop got a radio and tuned it to the oldies station.

I stood in line tapping my foot and swaying a bit to the music of my childhood.  The teenager behind the counter smiled at me and shook her head.  Then a voice behind me sang out, "If you said good-bye to me tonight.."

I turned around with a smile on my face and answered, "..there would still be music left to write.."

We started to sing together, then sway side by side to the music.  It was an awful duet, but also kind of wonderful.  A 30-something mom of six and a mid-40s short, pudgy, bald man singing out a Billy Joel tune and dancing in the donut line.  He was the impromptu Fred Astaire to my Ginger Rogers, except their music was never this cool.

As the girl handed me my box and drink carrier, my singing partner took my hand and twirled me around, to the further mortification of his teen-aged daughter.

"Thanks for the song," I called over my shoulder.

"Anytime," he answered back.

I laughed the whole way to the car and then relayed my tale of song to the stunned silence of my family.  Who was this woman in the car with them?  The old loo-lahs.  How funny they are.  We only get this one life.  Why not spend it singing out at the top of your lungs and dancing with anyone who wants to dance?  Just wait.  By the time I'm through, the whole group of them will be singing and dancing in perfectly choreographed steps....I can see it now.  If not....I'll always have the donut shop.

Music to buy donuts to:

Happy Maywen Sucket Day!!!!

The history of St Patrick, just for you.  Have a great day and enjoy your green beer.

Spring Break

Spring break is a moment of rest in our crazy life.  For the next week our text books will sit quietly upon their shelf.  My voice is not repeating, "Do your math.  Do your math.  Are you done with your math?"  Instead I smile at my children's laughter as they fly out the door on their way to find adventure.

Their summertime friends are again available.  Those great friends who are too busy during the school year to play, find themselves newly schedule-free.  My children find themselves in a summer preview.  The unplanned hours stretch before us all.

What will I do with my surplus of spare moments?  The imaginings are almost as entertaining to me as the doings. All too swiftly this breathing spell will come to an abrupt end and real life will intrude upon us.  For now, let us find the grace to enjoy this split second of abandon.

What I Have Failed to Do

"...I have sinned through my own fault...in what I have done and what I have failed to do..."  -The Confiteor

I thought eating differently was all about my physical health.  Who knew I could be so wrong?  It has made me aware of my shortcomings as a mother and as a person.  It has shown me how I suffer from the sin of sloth.

I thought I was fat because of gluttony, because I ate too much.  I need to lose weight because I am lazy.  It seems funny for someone as busy as I am to discover my own laziness.  I would have thought I wouldn't have had time to be lazy.  Sin has a way of sneaking up and surprising us.

I used to plan.  I would make detailed menus of well balanced meals for my family.  There were varieties of vegetables and lean, well-seasoned meats.  Recipes were rotated and experimented with, calories were planned, nutritional values considered.  I got tired of the fight.  My children argued and whined about trying new things.  They refused vegetables.  My husband balked at the idea of going without his meat and potato favorites in favor of something new and untried.  I couldn't fight them all forever, so I quit trying.

Chicken strips from the grocery store and burgers from the local burger joint were quick easy and never disputed.  There was no mess from cooking to clean up, just wrappers to ball up and toss into the trash.  The path of least resistance made my life easier.

Easier isn't better and it's making me sick.  If we were to look, it's probably making my family sick as well.  Their health and well being is my job and I have quit in the face of opposition.  I have let ease and my own inertia beat down my instincts.

I willingly have ignored it all until God set my esophagus on fire and reminded me that failing to do the right thing can be just as harmful as doing the wrong one.  I have sinned against God and my family by not caring for this incredible gift to the best of my ability.  Sometimes it takes a lightning bolt to wake us up to the truth of our situation.  For me, that lightning struck in my chest.  Now I just have to figure out what I'm going to do about it.

What I'm Eating

For some reason, y'all are interested in what the doctor told me to eat for acid reflux.  (The reflux is better today, by the way.)  It's not a weight loss plan, although I am losing weight.  It is simply a collection of foods which are known to not exacerbate my problem.  For Kim, it's not affecting the amount of milk sweet #6 is getting, yet.  It may though, and I'm okay with that.  He can have a few bottles of formula if it means my esophagus isn't getting burned.

But you don't really care about all that do you?  It's all about the food.

Meat:

Chicken, turkey or fish

Grain:

Brown rice, oats, or quinoa

Fish:

Cod, Mackerel, Tilapia, Trout or Tuna

Vegetables and fruits:

Any except tomatoes or citrus fruit (except I can have lemon juice on other foods)

Beans:

Any except soy

Nuts:

Any except peanut or macadamia

Herbs and spices:

Any

Vinegar:

Rice, Apple Cider, or Balsamic

Oils:

Almond, Avocado, Canola, Coconut, Flax seed, Grape seed, Olive (Extra Virgin Cold-Pressed), Safflower, Sesame, Sunflower, Walnut

Sweeteners:

Blackstrap molasses, Stevia, Agave nectar, Fruit sweetener

Drinks:

Fruit Juice (Fresh, unsweetened), Herbal tea, Tea (green, black, white, decaffeinated), water


The hardest part for me is the no dairy, no red meat, and no condiments.  Their exclusion makes me rethink how I cook and pay close attention to how the food I eat makes me feel.  I'm not road kill today, but am not back to my usual sunny self.  On the plus side, I've lost 3 pounds this week, so that's something.

Way to Sell It, Doc

In our never-ending quest to find the cause of my coughing and mouth swelling, my doctor has ordered me to lose wight and follow a restricted diet to see if we can catch the culprit through process of elimination. It sounded like a not-too-tough thing to do until he gave me the list of what I'm allowed to eat.  That's right, the not-alloweds are so long that it's easier to tell me what I can eat.

I grimaced a bit, being the foodie that I am but made up my mind that if this was what it took I'd do it.  Then he informed me that I'd probably feel like road kill for the next few days as my body got rid of the left over crud I usually eat.  What a plan!  Eat nothing and feel bad.  Why haven't I tried this before?  Why don't we all eat this way?

Sure, eventually I'll feel better...blah,blah,blah.  I hope I live to see the "feel better" part of this experiment.  Today my head feels like it wants to explode.  I must be doing something right.

A Lesser Woman

I looked in the mirror last night.  One of those really long, honest, sigh-inducing looks. I was fresh from the shower without the hair and make-up to hide behind.  I didn't like what I saw.  When did I get flabby, fat and old?  This will never do.  (If you know me in real life and are thinking "you're not fat" then you're either kind or fooled by clever clothes choices.)

Today I am embarking on a journey to change my life.  I've never been a serious dieter.  I love food.  I love to slather it in sauces and relish ever morsel.  I need to make sure that there are fewer morsels on my fork.

I need to rediscover my love of the gym and running.  As much as I love curling up on the couch with my babies, I need to exercise if I want to meet their babies.  There is heart disease in my family, and diabetes.  Fat is no joke to me.

I'm adding a counter to keep track of my loss.  I'm not telling you where I'm starting, just that I need to lose 20 and would rejoice at 30 pounds.  I need to see it to keep me motivated, to keep me honest.  Summer is around the corner, and I hear a new swimsuit and pretty sun dresses calling me.  Let's see if I can get there.

Anyone want to join me?

My Penis Is Just Fine, Thank You

Although you wouldn't know it from my inbox, I do not happen to be a feminist with Nigerian relatives trying to leave me millions of dollars, who needs money from Barack Obama to go to college, is worried about the Republican effort to kill health care, wants to see your naughty video or is in need of penile enhancement.  How did I get on this list anyway?

Is there still anyone on the planet who gets their Viagra from an online pharmacy where "no doctor is needed", who clicks through to meet "naughty, lonely housewives looking for a hookup", or really believes they can get their PhD in 2 months of online night school? 

I don't believe that there are unclaimed government funds waiting for me to just fill out a form and pay a small fee (how many ways can you say audit?), or that my gay lover is just sitting there waiting for me to click on his profile.  I'm not sure I'm what he's looking for anyway.

As much as I'd love a last minute deal on a Caribbean vacation, I'd need a passport first.  The secret to winning the lottery? Tell me how many times have you've won it first before I send you my credit card number.   Sure, I'd love laser hair removal or magic diet pills or even a free tummy tuck.  I just have to respond in the next 20 minutes?  Which 20 minutes would that be? Their ad has been popping up all day.

I don't get the purpose behind spam.  I can't believe anyone actually responds to any of the crazy things they promise.  But if you've ever clicked through and ended up smarter, cuter, richer and better endowed, drop me a line and let me know how that's working for you.

Patience With a Side Order of Calm

I have become resigned to the idea of moving to Dallas.  (In fact, I have become excited about the idea.  I'm just as shocked as you are.)  Having spent hours on the real estate web sites looking at potential homes in our price range, I'm ready to start packing today.

We're moving in 18 months, minimum.  It may be a tad bit too soon to begin putting our lives into boxes and choosing paint colors for our new bedroom.  I need to slow those horses down a tad bit.

I love moving.  It's a sickness, you don't have to tell me.  Raised in a Navy family, I relish the idea of new places, faces and experiences.  I get jittery every 2 years or so as my mind tells me that it's time to go.  I'm a nomad, a gypsy.  I like change.

The rest of my family disagrees with me.  They would love nothing better than to spend the rest of our lives in the same house, in the same town, surrounded by the same people. They thrive on stability and continuity. 

All except my mini-me, sweet #4.  My shy baby is eager to leave.  She chirps along about new houses, new parks, new libraries, and just the wonder of change and excitement.  Who knew that Miss Invisibility would want to embark on a great adventure?

I like to think that we get it in a way that the others don't.  The best kind of adventure is the one where all the people you love get to come with you.  Leaving without each other would be hard, going together could be the most amazing thing ever.  My intrepid explorer and I smile at each other across the room when her siblings start to complain.  We know that they will be fine and we will be better.  We're squealy excited about all of the wonder that is to come; we hope to inspire the rest of them.

I'm ready to go today, so is she.  We have to wait until 2011.  Somewhere we have to find the calm patience to make it until then.

2081

What happens in a world where everyone is equal?  When personal achievement is irrelevant, what becomes of the exceptional?  If freedom becomes less important than fairness, who benefits?

Kurt Vonnegut asked these questions in his dystopian short story Harrison Bergeron.  In 2009, this short story was resurrected and these questions asked again in the movie 2081.   Displaying all the rebellion of the original tale, 2081 manages to be disturbing, haunting, and horribly brilliant.  The beautiful are masked.  The strong are crippled.  The intellectual are tortured for their thoughts.  Equality belongs to mankind at last.  The playing field is leveled, not by bringing everyone to a greater level of brilliance, but by lowering all mankind to the level of the ordinary.

If you have half an hour, watch 2081.  Its haunting message will linger in your mind and color the way you hear the message of political correctness.  This little film showcases the very best possibility of American cinema come to fruition.  Its very being is the stark contrast to the world it warns is lurking a government decree away.

*I was sent a copy of 2081 and asked to review it.  I wouldn't recommend it if I didn't like it.  I loved it.   

My Purgatory Parade

"Offer it up."  My children hear this dozens of times a day.  "Offer it up for the poor souls in Purgatory.  Work on your parade."  Some day they will get to Heaven, and the souls they have helped will be there to thank them.  I imagine it will look like a parade of people, a mad Mardi Gras parade with horns, umbrellas, and dancing.  I tease the children that they will be holding signs saying "Thanks for eating the broccoli" or "No whining with the stomach flu.  You rock!"  It may not be that way in the Catechism, but that's how it is in my mind.

I did some serious work today.  I went in for allergy testing.  110 mini-shots to see if we can figure out the mouth swelling and constant cough.  I am covered in writing and marks from shoulder to wrist on both arms.  I offered it up for my Lenten intentions (My prayer buddy lucked out today), and the poor souls in Purgatory,  just the way my grandmother taught me.

We still know nothing.  I have some sort of super-immune system. (I'm not making this up, the doctor told me.)  I would start to produce a welt, and then it would disappear.  Nothing lasted long enough to be counted.  My super immunity just shrugged its shoulders at each spot and then wiped out the irritant.  I can produce some anti-histamine.  Something I excel at, at last.  Writing and anti-histamine production.  There are worse talents to have.

The nice doctor refuses to quit searching for a cause.  He ordered a blood allergy test because my immune system can't defeat that test.  If it were any other time of the year I'd be asking why we didn't start there, but it's Lent so I'm just offering it up and working on my parade.

Work

I have often wondered why anyone with small children would choose to work if it weren't absolutely necessary.  I would look around at the sleepy faces of my children each morning and be so grateful we didn't live that life.  There is no early morning rush in our household as my little people awaken when they do (dreadfully early) and meander their ways down to breakfast.  Our morning is filled with impromptu snuggles and hugs and small warm bodies curling up next to me in bed.  It's a delicious beginning.  I couldn't imagine what would tempt me away from this life; what could even begin to measure up.

I've begun to have a bit of writing success over the last few weeks.  People are interested in manuscripts, and I got to jump in and teach a class at the Catholic Writer's Conference when the regular presenter didn't show.  It went so well they invited me back to present it next year.  It's been a heady couple weeks.  My life has a sense of purpose and completion which I don't normally get to experience.

There is no completion with being a stay-at-home mom.  My day may begin in a slow and lovely way, but it ends late.  The part that is the most wearing is that nothing is ever done.  There is no sense of completion.  I can wash laundry all day, but the only way to finish it would be to strip everyone naked and make them sleep on bare mattresses for the night.  The only way the dishes get completed is to wash them after bed-time and that only lasts until the 5 year old needs a glass of water in the middle of the night.  One day blends into the next and nothing is ever done.

I've wondered what it would take to lure me back into an office.  This could be my siren song.  I'm not tempted by title, salary or prestige, but the chance to actually finish something could lure me back.  The opportunity to finish something and actually be done with it has an undeniable allure.

I'm not leaving my little people, yet.  I'll start the garden next week and find joy in the feel of the earth.  I'll anxiously await warmer weather when the grass grows enough for me to mow it; mowed grass stays mowed for a week.  I'll paint our bedroom and finish making it all that I imagine it can be.  And I'll write.  I'll write because I have to.  I'll dream of someday holding a book of my own in my own hands and imagine how that feels.  I'll move ever closer to the real finish line when I send six children out into the world to begin their own lives.  What an accomplishment that will be.

Unmasking Myself

For the last 2 1/2 years I have enjoyed writing this blog as "the Mom."  My anonymity has been something I have enjoyed as it has given me the freedom to say things out loud which I might otherwise keep to myself.

Now I am writing and trying to make a career of it, and my great body of work lies hidden under a pseudonym.  Today, I will change that.  Please allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Rebecca Frech.  I am the besotted wife of my sweet Computer Guy and the mother to my lively crew of 6.  I grew up in South Texas, south of Corpus Christi, then married an Okie boy and ended up in Oklahoma.  I started blogging as a way of staying sane in a household of small children, but it quickly became a part of me until I now have to write in the same way that I have to eat.  It is necessary to my being.

If you liked me as "the Mom", I hope you'll like me as my own self.  If you didn't know me before, well you've picked a good time to join us.  I'm standing at a crossroad and waiting to see where I go from here.