Hey Maggie!

You wrote:

Since last Christmas, my husband has lost his job so when we say "no gifts" we really mean it. But, I'm still trying to think of something I could make for him - maybe a craft with the kids.

 I can't help with the job, but I can help with Christmas. Send me your email address and the $75 gift code is yours.  Congratulations!

Difficult (A Give-away)

Do you have difficult people to shop for?  As we get closer and closer to Christmas, I find myself almost done with my gift list except for those last few.  Those few who are always last...like my father-in-law.  I love my husband's father, but all he ever puts on his wish list are Spanish peanuts and soap on a rope.  I'm not sure if it's because he's too busy to think about it or because he really doesn't want/need anything, but shopping for him is my annual challenge.

Do you have a shopping challenge?  Is it bigger than mine?  I want to hear it!  Make me feel better about this.  At least let me know that I'm not alone.  (Please!)  Have the best one and I'll help you out with a $75 gift code to CSN Stores.  (You know them, the people who sell everything?  Contemporary Coffee Tables   cookware, linens, toys, etc.)  I've shopped them myself and it's pretty great.  (I bought a non-stick pan, fiesta ware dishes, a new hand mixer, and a bathroom for #4's dollhouse last time for less than $75 so I know how far this gift code can go......it was a weird day in my kitchen...don't ask.)

Leave me a comment.  Tell me your tale of woe.  I'll pick my fave and give it away on Saturday.   If you link back to me and include the words Contemporary Coffee Tables with a link to http://allcoffeetables.com  ... I won't give you anything extra...but if three of you do it I get a $20 gift card.  Help a mama out?  I have lots of people to shop for.

How Did He Die?

My 6 year old was flipping through my wedding album this morning when she stopped on a picture of me with my father.  She studied his smiling face for a long while, a face she doesn't know. I held my breath for a moment, knowing what was coming next.

"Is this your dad, mom?"

"Yes, dear, it is."

"Was he in the war?"  (Her Opa was in Vietnam, her great grandfathers in WWII. )

"Yes, honey, he was.  He was a pilot in Vietnam."

"Oh...is that how he died?"  She looked at me with these sad eyes, ready to mourn for her dead grandfather.

"He's not dead."

"Oh, then where is he?"  I hate this question.  They all ask it.  They all wonder why they have a grandfather they've never met. 

"My dad decided that he didn't want to be married to your Grandma any longer, so they got a divorce.  Then he fell in love and married another lady.  She already had children, and he decided to be a part of her family instead.  He's still alive; he's just with his new family."

She sat for a moment and thought of this.  I sat and thought of all the things I wasn't saying: the hurt feelings, the tears, the drama of the past, the pain....and I waited.

"She must be a really beautiful and nice lady if he chose her instead of us."


Yeah......must be.

This Is Better?

For the past few weeks, I have been potty training the 3 1/2 year old.  (Yes, he's still in diapers...don't judge.)  He's got the whole thing down pretty well with very few accidents.  I should be thrilled.  We have just one problem  every time he sees poop he throws up. All over the floor.

I'm not sure puke on the floor is better than poop in the diaper.  I don't even know what to do about it.  It's not as if he's never seen poop before now.  He has a baby brother, dogs in the back yard, all kinds of animals living in the woods by our house....it's only his own that grosses him out.  A week ago I was congratulating myself on how quickly he was learning...now I'm carrying a mop around and thinking diapers weren't so bad after all.

Bespectacled Beginning

#3 got glasses today.  We've known for a long time that he has double vision, and the eye doctor has been monitoring him.  Last week at his check-up, she decided that it was time for glasses to correct his far-sightedness.  Dyslexia and double-vision are causing enough eyestrain, so even though his prescription is not severe we've decided that he needs the help.

He was so excited on the way to pick them up.  "Will they help me only see one of things?" He asked in excited tones.

"No," I replied. "They will only make things less blurry.  Correcting the double vision comes later."  I paused for a moment and asked, "Do you always see two of everything?"

He thought for a moment and then said, "Yes.  Unless there are two of them and then I see four."

Proof

 If there had been any doubt as to whether or not the children enjoyed themselves this weekend, the proof was right there in the back seat.

I'm not sure how it can be comfortable to sleep that way, but they did it the whole drive home.

Timeless

Last night we returned home from our 2 day 1 night mini-vacation.  The kids ran freely through the waterpark.  The Computer Guy and I got to loosen up the firm grip we keep on our big family and become 'fun parents' for just a little while.  We all remembered what it felt like to laugh out loud and scream because something is just that much fun.

I spent an entire 2 days not looking at a clock.  For someone as fanatical about being on time as I happen to be, this was a major accomplishment.  We woke up when we were done sleeping.  We ate when we were hungry.  The kids fell asleep when they were worn out.  There were no set bath times, bed times or meal times.  The only thing on our agenda was to play, and we did.

I had an eye-opening moment about how I have trained my children to live by the clock when we were getting ready to leave the house.   The night before I had told them "It's a 3 hour drive to Dallas.  We can go into the water park at noon, but we're not in any hurry to leave.  We'll get there when we do."  They didn't believe me.  At 9AM sharp, all of the children were in the car, buckled and waiting.  Since their dad was still in the shower, I shooed them out and encouraged the eating of Pop Tarts and watching of cartoons.  (Yay vacation!)  Ten minutes later, they had once again all congregated in the car.

"We're going to be late," the 10 year old worried.  I told him that there is no 'late' on vacation, but he gave me a look which said I must be smoking crack or have been abducted by aliens.  What kind of world can exist without the concept of 'late'?

When lunchtime came on the drive down, we stopped for burgers.  The children sat patiently in the car and had to be told that we really were eating inside.  I frowned a bit at myself.  What kind of life were we giving them that eating inside the burger place was a treat?  As they wolfed down their lunches so that we wouldn't be "too far behind our schedule", I decided that while punctuality is good......I may have taken this a bit too far.

I want them to be polite and on time, but I don't want to rob them of the joy of meandering.  Side trips are so worth while, last minute plans can be the most fun.  Flexibility needs to be built into the calendar and I need to realize that the world will not end if we decide to chuck it all out of the window and go play.

As we settled in at the hotel, I placed all of my time pieces on the shelf beside my husband's blackberry and I turned the hotel clock toward the wall.  I put aside the burden of running a family for 2 days and just reveled in the fun of it all.

As the Computer Guy and I flew down the "Tornado" on our two person float, I heard us both laugh out loud and whoop with delight.  As we climbed out of the ride at its end, we both giggled like little children.  I saw the dancing delight in his eyes and the smiles on the faces of our children and realized that a few more days of turning off the clocks would be good for us.  I've scheduled them in over the next few month.  What?  You didn't think I'd changed that much did you?  Who do you think we are? Hippies?

Home

We're home from our mini vacation to the  Wolf Lodge in Dallas.  We're exhausted, happy and so very glad we went.  More tomorrow!

Capacity for Responsibility

I ran across my new favorite saying this week "it is important for me not to surpass my capacity for responsibility."  (there are a couple bad words in the linked post.  It's still funny and worth the read, but don't complain to me.  I didn't write it.)  It has become the mantra of my life. 

Lately, I have been feeling overwhelmed by all of the things for which I am solely or mostly responsible.  It is a daunting list, and the weight seems to grow heavier daily.

In my imagination, I want to be the mom who runs the scout troop, coaches the cheer squad. bakes for the parish bake sale, has a spotless house, is a great friend, exercises regularly, cooks amazing food, reads everything, finishes this darn book, etc.  Just thinking about the list of things makes me tired.

All of my regular duties coupled with the stress and work of having a special needs child in the school system has led me to overload.  I'm ready to throw my hands in the air and quit.  I abdicate everything which is not directly necessary to feeding, caring for, educating, and raising my children and loving their father.

It is not my job to be the caretaker and referee for my family.  I can't be responsible for the emotional state of anyone who doesn't live in this house.  I can no longer care if their feelings are hurt by other people.  I am full up.

I have reached my saturation point.  I am beyond my capacity for responsibility.  I am giving myself permission to walk away...to run as quickly and as far away from these things which sap my energy and steal my time. 

It is nothing more than narcissism really.  The truth is that all of these things will happen without me.  If they do not, we will all survive with out them.  I keep humming that My Fair Lady song "Without You" to myself.  I know Eliza meant it as an insult, but it is the sound of freedom to me.



I just got a call from the PTA at school wanting me to bake 3 dozen of something for the bake sale.   I sweetly replied, "I don't think so.  You see, I've exceeded my capacity for responsibility already."  Ahhhh...the freedom

Vacation Planning

The Computer Guy and I are planning a little family get-away in the near future.  We're heading off to the Great Wolf Lodge.  It's a hotel with an indoor water park, tons of activities for the kids, and a spa for the adults in the group.  We're so excited to be going out of town to a place which isn't a family visit.

It seems strange to be heading off to a place which is surrounded by family and friends and not call them to drop by to say 'hi.'  On the other hand, it feels amazing to not have to see anyone but my own little group.

Our first ever non-family-visiting vacation since getting married...it may only be for a couple of days, but it is way overdue.  I can't wait for it to get here.

Not As Big As She Thinks She Is

Last week, I was talking with my 6 year old about moving.  We daydreamed about her room and how we would decorate it.  As a mother of 4 boys, I dreamed of pink and girly.  She had something else in mind.

"Mom, I'm not a girly girl; I'm a soccer girl."  Spoken like the tough girl she is.  My shy mouse changes completely when she ties on her shoes and steps onto the soccer field.  The ball is hers and the other team needs to just step aside. A soccer girl.

She's gotten so big this year.  She's gone from still having a baby belly to being lean and athletic.  She raises an eyebrow at fluffy skirts, and demands a bit of funk and sequin to go with her pink.  I can live with the funk.

Her father and I were just talking about how big she is getting to be when we found her curled up and sleeping on the couch.  Sucking her thumb and playing with her belly button just as she did when she was too small to chase that soccer ball down the field.

She may be tough, but she's still my baby.

(I took this with my phone, so it's not the best resolution. Sorry)

29

My first baby turned 29 this week.  (Happy Birthday, Butch!)  I may be his sister in reality, but he's been my baby from the very first moment we locked eyes on each other.

It's so funny now to talk to the man who is my closest friend and remember the little boy whose diapers I folded as he slept across my lap.  He was this bitty thing with a mop of dark hair, an impish smile and a crowing laugh. I adored everything about him, and I think the feeling was mutual.

I can remember so clearly walking in the front door of our house in Florida after school and calling out "I'm ho-o-me!" He would squeak and squeal in delight, scramble off our mother's lap and crawl or toddle to the door as fast as those chubby little legs would carry him.  I would swoop him up and kiss his fat cheeks as he screamed in delight.

It was from him that  I learned the wonder of that baby head smell, that holding a small child close can chase all kinds of monsters away.

When our mother was hospitalized after her accident, it was into my bed he crept, as our aunt slept in our parents' bed and our dad sat at our mother's side.  He snuggled in with his head under my chin and slept peacefully as my own scared tears fell into his soft brown hair.  It was this little boy who kept me going through all of my darkest days.  Just knowing that he needed me was all the motivation I required.

We have walked to Hell and back side-by-side, and very often hand-in-hand.

How do you describe in words the person who has seen you at your absolute screaming lunatic worst and then shrugged his shoulders and said, "Are you done yet?"  One of the few people who has seen you ugly cry?

The little boy I protected has become the man I rely on as my sounding board and confidant.  When did he get big enough to be not just my little brother any more?  At some point he became the man who challenges me, infuriates me, and supports me.  He is my cheerleader and my conscience and too often my voice of reason. He is the sibling that I hope and pray my own children will find in each other.

I was looking this morning at a picture of him from when he was 4, smiling at the world with innocent, trusting eyes.  What a difficult road was lay before that young boy, but it took all of that for God to turn him into the person he is today.

When I think of the man that he has become, I like to imagine that I had a hand in all of that, but I know it was only through the grace of God that we are here.  My brother has overcome mountains to become an amazing and heroic person.  I'm so proud to be able to call myself his sister, and even more delighted that I can call him my friend.

Happy Birthday, Doug.  I love you.

UN/WHO and Experiments in Population Control

*Cross-posted on Defend Us In Battle*


The World Health Organization (WHO) states on its website that its agenda is "promoting development (socioeconomic); fostering health security; strengthening health systems; harnessing research, information and evidence; enhancing partnerships, and improving performance.  "  Nowhere on their site do they mention social experiments, forced infertility or eugenics, and yet the WHO appears to have been involved in all three.


During the early 1990s the WHO began a massive campaign against tetanus in Mexico, Nicaragua and the Philippines.  What was not disclosed to the participants in the campaign was that the vaccine vials had been tainted by the addition of hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin), a naturally occurring hormone which is essential to sustaining pregnancy.


 When introduced into the body with a tetanus toxoid carrier, the woman's body forms antibodies against tetanus and also against the hCG.  These hCG antibodies will attack any future pregnancies by attacking and killing off the hCG which is necessary to sustaining the pregnancy causing miscarriage. 


Women who participated in the vaccination campaign were actually vaccinated against their own developing children.


Vials of the vaccine in the Philippines tested positive for the inclusion of hCG.  These vials were all Canadian in origin and belonged to the WHO.  Individual women who experienced miscarriage after receiving the vaccine have been found to have hCG anti-bodies.



What do these three countries have in common apart from poverty?  All three are predominantly Catholic countries with burgeoning populations and (at that time) laws against contraception. 



Since the 1970s, the WHO has been actively researching and looking for a pregnancy vaccine.  It was their research which proved that adding hCG to tetanus was feasible and effective.  (Vernon Stevens, "Progress in the development of human chorionic gonadotropin antifertility vaccines," American Journal of Reproductive Immunology, 1996, volume 35, 148-155.)  Researchers have now moved on to using diphtheria as the anigen link as it appears to deliver longer lasting infertility results. 

At this time, reports of hCG laced vaccines are beginning to be reported in Nigeria, another predominantly Catholic country.

It is time that we as Americans and Catholic Christians begin calling for the withdrawal of the financial support of the United States of America from the World Health Organization.  Any good which they might do in the world is offset by these atrocious violations against the basic human rights of poor women around the world and their children.  

The UN has declared war on the unborn children and their mothers in poor, predominantly Catholic countries in the name of eradicating poverty.  Christ has told us that the poor will always be with us.  They are ours to protect, help and care for, not to murder, poison and experiment upon.

Potty Break

I'm taking a posting break today to potty train #5.  He woke up this morning ready and willing to go!

Blogging is important, but so is a diaperless 3 year old. 

See you tomorrow!

That Guy's a Nazi! oh, nevermind, he's just a nerd

Democrats in Ohio are crowing with delight over photos of Republican Congressional candidate Rich Iott in the uniform of the Nazi's Waffen SS.  What more proof could voters require that the Republicans truly are evil incarnate.  Not to be outdone in hopping all over this, the #2 Repub in the House of Representatives, Eric Cantor, was quick to denounce the Nazi-loving Iott.

What was he thinking?  What kind of nut-job would put on this dreaded uniform and parade around in it?

A historic re-enactor type person, that's who.  That's right.  Mr Iott isn't a racial supremacist.  He doesn't hate the Jews.  He's one of those guys who own replica uniforms, camp out in mock military encampments and re-create famous battles for fun and educational purposes.  He's not a Nazi, he just realizes that someone has to be willing to be on the losing side or you can't show the battle.

I'm not sure who looks worse here, the Democrats for yelling about a guy who likes to dress up in costumes and run around with his buddies, or the Republicans who missed an opportunity to tell the Democrats "stop being dumb."  Either way, both sides look ridiculous and are at risk of offending that key "nerdy guy with too much time on his hands" demographic.

Mr Iott, you still have my support, but if I find out you're a secret Confederate re-anactor who whistles Dixie and fakes a Southern drawl, or that you have put on a red-coat and pretend to be hanging out with Cornwallis and singing "God Save the King", or any other such nonsense......sir, if you've been mock fighting against this country for any other pretend army.....well....I just won't be able to vote for you.   Because I'm from Oklahoma.  So there!

MUAHAHAHAHA

With nothing but a paper clip, chewing gum, my trusty laptop and the help of a certain Computer Guy I know, I've taken over Defend Us In Battle.  What?  They weren't using it

It took patience, a bit of stealth...........and ninjas....to catch the one moment that had them looking in the other direction.  It's all mine until they catch on and then I'm making a run for it!  (anybody know a good place for a mom, a Computer Guy and 6 kids to hide while they're on the lam?)

The long and the short of it is.....double blogging.....let's see if I can do it or if my head explodes from the pressure to keep up.  Sounds like fun to me!

Love Hurts

My 3-year-old son walked up to me a few moments ago and clambered up onto my lap.  He placed his chubby hands on either side of my face and gazed into my eyes.

"I wuv oo, Mommy," he said.

As my heart beat pitter-pat, he reared his head backwards and slammed his forehead into my own.  As tears welled up in my eyes, he laughed maniacally and pronounced, "Head bonks mean love," and walked away.

Don't Hang That Halo On Me

The woman at the grocery store looked at my overfull shopping cart and my half dozen children and proclaimed, "I could never do that.  You must be a saint."  People say this to me all the time, canonizing me against my will. 

I'm not a saint.  I'm just a normal mom.  I'm a normal mom with 6 children.  The six children don't make me a saint, they just mean that I know more about the inside of a delivery room than most non-medical people.

Having a big family does not mean that I am more organized than anyone else.  I am better at throwing stuff away or dragging it off to Goodwill than almost anyone, but that's not the kids fault.  I've been throwing junk out for years.   I do admit to owning a label maker, but it ran out of paper a year or so ago.  I keep meaning to buy more, but it never makes it on my list.

Having a big family does not mean we are wealthy.  I'm not sure how people have come to the conclusion that we are, but I know they think so.  I often am told, "I could never afford to feed all those kids."  We can't really either if you look at it on paper.  We're not richer than other people, we're just better with coupons and bargain hunting.  It's not cleverness on my part, we like to actually have food to eat.

All these kids don't mean that I was somehow created with more patience than anyone else.  I firmly believe that patience is built up through strength training.  The more times you use it, the more endurance you have.  If the people in the store were looking, they'd see that I have ample opportunity to practice patience every day.  I wasn't blessed with perfect children, just with the opportunity to learn patience.  A lot of opportunity.

Homeschooling all these kids doesn't mean that I'm some kind of genius.  It simply means that I was clever enough to buy the teacher's manuals and actually read them.    I not smarter than anyone else, I'm just honest about the fact that I don't know everything. 

The truth of it all is that I'm not better or holier than anyone else. Having sainthood bestowed on me by random strangers makes me slightly uncomfortable.  I'm not doing anything miraculous, heroic, or superhuman.  I'm just a woman who loves my husband and our children and tries to do the best I can for them.  Some days I am a spectacular success, some a spectacular failure.  Most days I am just average and getting along like everyone else.  My average is just bigger and the volume makes it look more impressive than it really is.

The Old Broken Fork

Once upon a time, my husband's grandmother was engaged to be married.  (It's hard to think of her as that young woman in her early twenties.  She's been old as long as I've known her.) Her fiance's aunt and uncle took her shopping for a wedding present and were determined to buy flatware for the young couple.  Grandma had a definite picture in her mind of what she wanted on her table.  Having grown up on a farm in Oklahoma, she was used to making-do and going without, but when she dreamed of being a grown-up, she imagined shiny silver utensils gracing her dinner table.

Her fiance's aunt thought that pretty had no place on a farmer's table, that utilitarian and sturdy was the way to go.  When grandma pointed hopefully at stainless steel with flowers on the handle, the aunt shook her head and picked out plain with wooden handles.  His poor grandmother fought back tears and said, " But I don't really care for that set."  Nothing was purchased that day, but at the wedding a few weeks later the whole family exclaimed over the generosity of the aunt and uncle who gave an entire set of flatware and how sensible they were to get the sturdy kind with the wooden handles.

Eventually the tine broke off of one of the forks.  Grandma smiled to herself that the "sturdy" set had broken.  It wasn't long before she discovered that the broken part of it made it into and ideal hook for fishing things out of pots and flipping bacon.  It became her trusty utensil and was more used than anything else in her kitchen.

For 10 years, she lived with the set that she hated.  She squirreled pennies away in the hope of replacing her ugly silverware. When she had enough money saved, this frugal child of the depression drove her flatware to the dump where she stood for a momentary pause before gleefully flinging it into the pit....all of it except the broken fork.

When I met her, she was already slowing up with age, but still had all of the fire of her early days.  Sunday mornings at her house were always church followed by a big breakfast which she insisted on making.  In her hand as she regaled us with family stories was an old wooden handled fork with a broken time.

His grandmother is dying now, slowly slipping away form us.  It is hard to look at her quiet frame and see any trace of the woman she has always been.  She looks so quiet and frail.  But when I go home, I look on my window sill and see that old worn out fork and I remember the defiance of a woman my own age who flung the detested set into the trash heap and then laughed all the way home.  I remember the aged and caring hands of a kind and generous woman who made breakfast for her grandson and his new bride and passed on the history of their family with pride and a bit of humor.  I remember the first time she put that fork into my hand and asked me to finish the bacon because she had to sit down.  It felt as if she was passing the torch from one generation to the next.

I am not a sentimental person who gets attached to material things, but I'm kind of in love with my old broken fork.

Exorcising the Holy Ghost

The Church of the IV Majesties, Oklahoma's only legal satanic church (we're so proud), will be holding a public exorcism on October 21st.

Have you heard about this?  Probably not.  The participants are purposely mocking Christianity and the Catholic Church in particular, and the media is mum.  When an obscure Florida Protestant pastor decided to mock Islam by burning the Qu'ran, the world was up in arms ( sometimes literally). When an Oklahoma satanist mocks Christianity...crickets.

If this were a legitimate religious practice of those who worship Lucifer, I would defend their legal right to be idiots even while I was disgusted by their behavior.  It is not.  James Hale, the Church of the IV Majesties' lord and high master, admits that it is a sham saying, "It's just a blasphemy ritual poking fun at the Catholic ritual.”

He has also stated that his purpose is to inflame hatred and drive Christians to violence in an effort to discredit religion.  "We know Christians can be violent. They shot at (Anton) Lavoy (founder of the Church of Satan). They shot at me in Yukon, but we have the utmost confidence that the Oklahoma City Police Department will do their job.”  Of course, he also said the obligatory, "We're not looking to start trouble or anything."

Somehow I have a hard time believing anything said by the minister of a religion based upon worshiping the Father of Lies.  I think violence, controversy, and trouble are exactly what he has in mind.  I think it is no coincidence that Satan's followers are throwing down in a part of the country which is so vocally Christian.  Satan is testing us to see if we are who we declare ourselves to be.  Will we meet his challenge?

I called the Oklahoma City Council ( 405-297-3884 ) to voice and objection to this blatant mockery of my faith.  I also called the Director of Parks and Recreation ( 405-297-3882 )to ask her to cancel this event.  I placed my final call to the Civic Center Music Hall (405-297-2264 )

I'm done protesting, now I am simply praying for us all.  God help a country which allows the mockery of God and His Church.  Please join me in a day of prayer and fasting on October 21st begging for God's mercy upon our country and our city.

I Think I'd Better Think It Out Again

I have been working for the last couple months for a small legal group which is helping homeowners to avoid foreclosure and keep their homes.  I'm not doing anything grand, just filling out paperwork, but it is fascinating work.  Once upon a time, I dreamed of being a lawyer, not the go-to-court-and-give-fabulous-speeches kind, but the fill-out-paperwork-give-advice-and-help-people-in-their-every-day-lives kind.  This little part time job is letting me live out a childhood fantasy and it's fun to me.

It's also infuriating.  In two months, I have seen so many examples of big business lying, cheating and deceiving the "little guy."  I just want to drive over to some of these big banks and smack people.  Dishonest salespeople, shoddy paperwork, flat out ignoring the law....in just two months!  I can't imagine what I'll have seen by the end of the year.

Before taking this job, I thought that most people in foreclosure were there because of irresponsibility or personal catastrophe.  For one group, I merely shrugged my shoulders and hoped they would learn from this painful lesson.  The other group hurt my heart and I wanted someone to help them, but I didn't really think too much about it.  Now the personal tragedies of both groups fill a file box in my computer room.  Now I know that there is a third group, the victims.  I had no idea about the people who were innocent and in foreclosure because of the actions of giant corporations.

I used to be the free market girl, the anti-regulation queen.  I'm not sure where I am now.  I believe that corporations behaving well should be left alone and those behaving badly should have someone to keep an eye on them, but I'm not sure who that should be.  The government has had a turn and failed miserably as we can see from the news this week. Three major banking institutions have announced a freeze on foreclosures because of missing paperwork, lying employees, and people in their offices just making stuff up.  I want there to be someone out there looking out for all of us.  I just don't know who that should be, and quite frankly I'm afraid of the answer.