Top 10 Highlights of Vacation

10. Tornado watch.  I mention this first because if I were to begin with the fact that we were enduring 70 degree temperatures while my Northeast peeps froze under snow... well, then that might breed bad feeling.  So, I'll try this: guess what happens when temps jump 40 degrees? Tornado watches!

Now, I "do" hurricanes.  Yeah they're big, yeah they're scary, but you know about them days in advance.  You know pretty much where they will hit, when, and how bad it's gonna be.  Which means if you have a mind to pack up all your people and possessions and move inland, you can pretty much do that.

Hurricane watches are different than tornado watches.  Different than, "Oh, fyi o ye family touring outdoor historic sites, there is a possibility that a funnel will drop from the sky and take you into the next life.  Just so's ya know. Y'all be careful out there. Watch yer heads." Or something.

We were all in historic Jamestown when we got that particular weather news from a very nervous Park Ranger. My husband and sister-in-law took it in stride, and made attempts to tell me not to worry.  "It's just a watch.  That just means conditions are favorable for a [funnel cloud of death] twister to [drop from any point above us and] form.  That's all."

This did not work for me, an individual who's of a mind that people in Kansas should regularly live underground, or at least keep their babies and collectibles in bunkers all the time.

Somewhere between the Pocahontas statue and the archaeological museum that had already disturbed my children with highly unnecessary specifics of survivalist cannibalism, the watch became a warning and we were told to "go home."  Because a second story, vacation "home" was tornado-proof, I suppose.

Usually I'd post a picture here, but I was too busy dragging my blythely unconcerned children towards the relative safety of a small car to take anything as mundane as a photograph.  Here's my best at a visual:

We got to the parking lot, waited an endless 2.3 minutes while a male relative used the restroom, and began to drive off the island via a small, low bridge with no guardrails.  

On our left over the Chesapeake, a misty, grayish mass was moving over the water, spinning it into a froth as it went.  I had enough time to say, "Hey, look at..." and the car shook violently in (ha!) hurricane force winds.  Large hail pinged off the roof, and water started to flood across the bridge.  Grey was the sky, the rain, the bay, and the road, and little distinction could be made between any of them.  

I handled it...well, I prayed.  Yes, my voice sounded strangely like a weepy and very excitable Miss Piggy repeating the Lord's name and random, philosophical questions like "Can we go back?" and "Is it safe?"   

Steering her tiny car with my now-crazed self and two older daughters--one following her emotional lead, one mine--my much more level-headed, wonderful sis drove that car off the island to safety, avoiding fallen tree branches as well as open bodies of water as she went.  And we lived to spend the evening in the outdoor hot tub, watching the birds fly home across a gorgeous sunset, temps in the mid 60's.

Happy sigh.

9.  Awesome RI neighbors.  Absurdly awesome RI neighbors.  Neighbors who, while you are walking around Williamsburg in shorts, text you pics of your freshly shoveled stairs and walkway back home "so people wouldn't know you were away."  Oh, and they fix your screen door while they are at it.  

The south hasn't cornered the market on friendliness yet! :)

8.  Awesome, clean-looking indoor pool that is warm enough that you don't have to "get used to it."  LOVE!

7. Big Game Hunting Safari.  Folks, there is now a video game I'm addicted to.  Our resort place had a free (squeak!) arcade for kids and yours truly.  I got neck strain from the time I spent with that plastic rifle, while my progeny beat air hockey pucks and billiard balls behind me. Somewhere in VA now, "KD" has a high score record for her ability to shoot five bucks and the trophy (usually a poor zebra or giraffe or elephant).  I'm so very proud. Got extra points for shooting flamingos too.  In real life, I don't have the heart to kill anything bigger than a bee, but on Big Game Hunting Safari...booya!!

Oh and playing x-box dance games with my girls was loads of fun too.

6.  Winter Olympics!  And time to watch them.

5,  Historical sites.

I have an unreasonable love for historical sites--"George Washington was actually here!!!"--probably because I was once a homeschooled Rhode Islander who was a rabidly avid reader whose family wouldn't ever drive more than 15 minutes in any direction, practically, for oh, like, eighteen years.  So yay historical sites! 

If I could invent an app, it would be to get pinged to know when I'm passing a historical site and what happened there.  (Yeah it probably already exists, but my phone's out storage space...) Out of the collection of non-essential things that annoy me, few annoy me more than seeing a small, black and white historical marker while speeding down the freeway, with no place (and/or time) to park and read what it was, and only ever getting the first line and a half.  "Greenwald's Tears Near this site was the last stand of the noble..."  That's all you get.  Grrr.

So yay for Williamsburg and Jamestown and Yorktown!  Williamsburg was a lovely walk down a colonial street, 

Jamestown was right on the bay and would have been gorgeous if it hadn't been chock full of tornadoes and stuff, and Yorktown was awesome awesome because they preserved, like, the whole thing!  Acres and acres of battlefield.  So neat...

3. TVs.  As in, one in each of two bedrooms and a big one for the living room.  Deplorable.  Bad for the brain. Lousy for sleep.  Isolating to the family.  SO MUCH FUN!  My little ones could watch "Caillou" while my tweens watched "Good Luck Charlie" and Dan and I watched parallel slalom finals.  Crazy cool.  

2.   Bathrooms.  As in, 2 whole, full bathrooms.  As in, more than 1 bathroom.  As in, 50% better than my normal existence.  As in, I could technically (though unadvisedly) have two people brushing their teeth, two people bathing, and two on the potty at the same time!  I wouldn't but... man.   The possibilities.  Getting misty-eyed just thinking about it. 

That's it!!  As soon as I can figure out how, a "Go Fund Me" button is going up for a second bathroom!  I give in!  Bathrooms, happy sigh... oh and

1. Family. Of course. Sisters-in-law who hang out with the kiddos and put them back to sleep when they wake in a strange house. A father-in-law who chuckles at the antics of the two year old, takes you to dinner, and then plays board games with you for hours. And a mother-in-law.

0. A daughter losing a new iPod full of photos.  :(

-1.  A time share presentation.  Oh help.  Oh, they're good.  They are "just doing it for you."  They "know how it is to vacation with family."  The offer "is for today only."  Oh you want a better offer?  Oh that's impossible.  Just impossible.  But you know, "Let me just go check with my boss to make sure."  And guess what!  The impossible is possible!  Just sign here and you will be the owners of more time share property!   

Heck no!  We have enjoyed the timeshare that was very much "sold" to us when we were barely into our twenties and a month into wedded life.  But no more please, because hey, pretty much anything is an "upgrade" if it has more than one bathroom and the stove isn't harvest gold and does have more than two burners. It can pay not to be spoiled.  Heck, I'd happily try tenting.... but you know Daddy Warbucks has a taste for the finer things.

There we have it.  Figured it was time for an indulgent post, as this blog is taking the place of two decades of short-hand, illegible diaries.  Need to record these wonderful highlights for posterity....

Linked to Many Little Blessings, Hip Homeschool Moms, and Titus 2 Tuesday

Top Ten Steps to Being On Time...With Preschoolers

1.  Put the kids to sleep fully dressed the night before.  In the morning, decide that--for having had a Pamper-ed sleep--they're really quite dry.  Very reasonably dry, actually.  With a slight sleeve roll, that jelly stain is concealed, and that crusty section on the collar is hardly noticeable.  Really. So far, so good.  No one will care that your kid's hair looks like you fixed it with an egg beater.

2.  Forget the whole shower / wash-up routine.  You're a down-to-earth, real mom about to hang out with real people.  It's ah-ight.  No sweat. Mostly.  Just get in there and show your kids you mean business.

Which, to them, will look kinda like this:

3.  Skip breakfast.  No not just you; the kids too!  Too much of a risk to their already-clothed selves. Besides they eat all the time, and there's probably that leftover box of crackers in the car somewhere. (It got pulverized, but for now it's a place to hang some hope...)

4.  Budget a half hour to find the other boot.  Oh you know the one.  It matters not that the boot is much larger than a shoe and BRIGHT PINK for crying out loud... never mind all that.  It will take a full half hour of searching amidst the screaming protests swearing complete ignorance of the whereabouts of said boot because "I put it right there!"

Wax slightly philosophical for a second: the boot was "there." Where is there?  Ha! "There" is... well, look everywhere.

And where is your everywhere?

You accept the challenge to "push yourself further" and you find the boot!  In the highchair! With a truck and a peel-mostly-on banana (can you say "breakfast"?) inside!  Now--like the Visa commercial--you know where you want to be:

5.  GET IN THE [DARN] VAN/CAR.  Some experts argue that this is indeed the most important and most difficult step of the entire process.  Last minute potty visits, a full diaper, and your coffee--spilled over the welcome mat in the search for a glove--will need to be addressed.  Set aside 20 minutes for this step, and plan for these 20 minutes to go by in 3.

6.  Sit at the driver's seat and find your keys.  No not in your hand, not in your purse, not left in the door, yes you just had them otherwise you couldn't have unlocked the van, not in the empty coffee holder (sigh), not under the crumpled bulletin on the floor, not under the seat beside "ohmygoshwhatISthatEWWWWseriouslykids!!!", not near the old apple core, not near the frozen wipes, not in the back seat ("KIDS! Kids, everyone look for Mom's keys. Now. NOW! Yes you!  I don't know I don't know...down... On the floor... are you sure you don't have them?), not on the ground outside, where oh where is "there," still not left in the door, not beside the car seat, not inside the car seat, "No, I can't take you out yet" (WaaaaaaAAAAHHHH!  Wahhhhh etc etc), not under the floor mat, not on the roof of the van, not...oh wait. Yeah.  Back pocket.  Got it.

No, you didn't even feel it.  No, I don't know how....

7.  Insert key in ignition, turn it, and engage in driving.  Enjoy that moment.  Power. Speed.  Control.

8.  Look at clock. Panic.

9a. Reminding yourself that "you aren't late yet," resolve to drive carefully.  Better late than involving police intervention.  Say a quick prayer... hey, maybe you can get in a prayer, "Our Father, who art...."

"Mama?"

"What?"

"Mama?"

"What?"

"Mama?"

"What?"

"Mama!  Guess what?"

"What?"

9b.  "I found my pincess!  She has a bandage!  A boo boo!  Is she okay?  Can you take it off?  Please mom?"

"Well I'm driving honey..."

"OH Myyyy POOR Pincess!!! AHHHHHH....."

9c.  Decide that "fixing" a McDonald's "Glinda the Good Witch" would be safer than hearing the screaming. Clamping eyes firmly on the road, you do that dislocating-shoulder-back-seat-reaching twist that accounts for the perpetual knot in your back. Grab, grab, grab, feel the toy and tips of tiny fingers, stretch more, a little more--wince--got it!

Tap toy on the radio knob.  This comes on:

Don't listen to the whole thing; just start singing the best part: "Ay ay oh Ay oh, Ay ay oh, ay oh..."

"Mama?" "What?" "Mama?" "What?  Yeah yeah I got it...."

Eyes focused on the road, blindly begin to pick at and peel off the melte-on band-aid. Mumble several un-Mommyish words under breath.  Now say them out loud as four year old's head pops up beside you.

"Mommy!  I love you Mommy. I want to sit aside you because you are my best, nice Mom..."

"STOP!  SIT!  NO!"  Dropping pincess, carefully find a spot to pull over. Remonstrate with weeping preschooler, assuring her of your love while strong-arming her back into her booster seat... how did she learn to undo that...  Tell her you'll be very glad to sit beside her later to watch "Caillou."  She smiles brightly through her tears.  You try to move your lips to an upward curve.  You have something to look forward to when you get home...

9d. Resume the driver's seat.  Cover dashboard clock with the apple core.  Sing along to the radio, "How am I supposed to be an optimist about this?  How am I supposed to be--"

"Mama?"

"What?"

"Mama?"

"What?  Holy....  what?"

"Hee hee...Wanna hear a joke?"

You are a good mom.  You are a goooood mom.  A darn good one.  Tap off the radio.

"Sure."

"Why did the turkey cross the road?"

Gooood mom.  Nice mom.  C'mon....

"To lay an egg?"  You almost sound interested.  Good job.

"TO HAVE A TEA PARTY!!!! HAHAHAHA!  Mom!  MAMA!  Yook! YOOK at me!  I a TURKEY!  Yook!"

Stop yourself in the act of tilting the rearview mirror to look at the turkey.  "Aw honey I gotta drive..."

"But I'm a TURKEY Mom! Yook!!! ...."

10.  Oh yeah... look!  You're here!  Only 16 minutes past the time you were shooting for.  Now you just have to get a parking spot, find four shoes and three socks and two hats and one glove and put them back on their respective kid, close the doors before the crumbled bulletins fall to the ground, go back and get your key (STAY STILL! STAY!), and your purse and... no wait, there's no coffee.  Just get inside.

Adults.  Other adults.  Smooth hair behind ear.  Smile.  Smile smile smile.

"So sorry we're late... we..."

Find the eyes of other bleary-eyed moms toting kids who yell "I need to go potty!"

Behold the moms of older kids; ladies who sit chatting in a happy circle, leaning over mug with lipstick-smudged rims...

Oh yeah.  Makeup could have been step 3b.

There will be time to be on time.  Sometimes.  Celebrate those days!  For now...

Yeah.  Let it go.  Go all Disney Princess in your head and....
"Sweetie, keep your sleeve rolled up a little, 'kay?"

Linked to Many Little Blessings

For Jamie F., Jen K., and all my fellow M.O.P.S.

Chocolate makes me beautiful

"CECILIA!  I'M WITH THE POTTY!"  I couldn't bear to use the more appropriate proposition.  Her cries for "Mommy!  Whewe ARE YOU?" continued unabated, so I persisted in identifying my position. Loudly. Till she heard me.

All the neighbors heard me too, since the windows were open....

And yes, this embarrassed me.  Because, unlike some common misconceptions about moi... (Warning: I'm about to launch into a narcissistic reflection about my character.  Please take a wine break before continuing. And please feel free to rant about yourself in the comment section; would love to hear from you.:)

Ready?  Okay... okay, you look ready...

1.  I am shy.  Yes, actually shy.  No, not on this blog, apparently.  Heh.  And no, nowhere near as shy as I was in high school, when I couldn't hold eye contact.  But do I want to be caught yelling in the bathroom?  No.  I'm easily embarrassed. Like...

2.  I find mothering in public to be an exercise in humilty/ation.  Meaning, I am more sensitive than I appear.  I have a hard time thinking clearly when my youngest kids are around; I seem to be a different person, tapped into "mommy hen" mode.  Makes me ADD... Just getting out of the van to the store: "Don't touch that!  Yucky... the weather is lovely!  Did you lock the door?  Where are my keys?  Oh... get my phone out of my pocket, will you?  Say please!  Eww not that shopping cart... you nearly knocked over that poor elderly lady!  Let's go apologize... CECILIA!"  Just like that.  And I seem all cool and calm about it, but...

3.  I'm not as laid-back as I look.  I give off the impression that I'm unfazed by the chaos of being a mom with a house full of toys and a mini van full of french fries.  When actually, it can bother me so much that I kinda get itchy... man it's tough with toddlers when cleaning their habitat is like plowing the sea.

4.  I actually want a consistently neat environment, preferably full of books.  (If you've ever had the misfortune of coming to my house, you have just fallen off your chair.  Hope you are okay!)  Legos and markers and sweet potato smeared on the kitchen chairs do, really, bother me.  Motherhood is messy.  I love my job, but I sure don't like everything about it...   I'm easily distracted.  Maybe I have...

5.  Too many alpha-waves.  Which makes me a mix of a contemplative and a space cadet.  This doesn't help with my cleaning routines.  I start to make dinner, need a pan, start to wash dishes to get to the pan (which I assume is at the bottom of my tiny kitchen sink).  Baby wants a snack meanwhile, so I put her in the highchair with cheerios, which she dumps over the floor, so I sweep them up, and then she wants "DOWN!" so I get her down, and she slips on the water that spilled from the cup she was carrying, so I comfort her, turn on a show for her, sneak back to the kitchen, clean up the spill, go back to the dishes, hear "BABY POOPED!" tend to that, it's really bad, I put her in the bathtub after and rinse out her clothes.  When that's done, I bring her back to play with her toys, and see that the pot is being used to hold My Little Ponies. (!)  In the toy box.  I get the blasted pot, and am striding back to the kitchen, when an older child peaks up from homework and says, "Mom, is dinner ready yet?"

!!!

Maybe you are laughing, but if you're a mom... yeah, daily life consists of a million riffs on "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie."  The above description is so typical, it's boring.  Like I'm yawning over here. Please get more wine.  And chocolate this time.

(The things I find on Wikimedia... hmmm.  Not sure about this concept...)

That, in sum, is why my house is not clean.  Some of you can manage it.  I honor you.  Meanwhile, I work on my distracted self.  Honestly, I can stew in deep thoughts as I put folded clothes in the fridge, and not even see the child painting the high chair with jelly.  Really! :) Anyway....

6.  When I talk with people in person, I don't always mean what I'm saying.  As in, I have a blasted dry wit and sense of sarcasm that throws people off sometimes.  Because I sound serious.  Joking around is second nature to me. So unless you have a sense of humor, we are likely not to get along all too well... though I will sure try because...

7. I'm a chameleon.  I'm pretty good at finding what's expected of me, what's needed from me, and how a person will best relate to me, and will act accordingly.  I even seem to unintentionally speak in the same accent as I'm spoken to with (so far, people find this humorous when they catch me, thankfully). This natural actress tendency does not always serve me well...

So, I'm trying to be more true to myself or--better--more the person God wants me to be.  Not the one everyone else wants me to be.  Which is hard, because I'm a people-pleaser.  But in the end, I'd rather please Him, first and foremost.  Otherwise, what's the point, really, right?  :)

Back to people-pleasing: I've been asked to answer the following questions.  You must eat one more piece of chocolate before proceeding.  You ready?  Good...

These are questions posed to those who receive the "Liebster Award" from Embrace the Struggle.  I'm told that "Liebster is a German word that can be translated as “sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome.”  Aww shucks...

But no, I have not received this award.  But since it's given to bloggers with less than 200 followers... at 8 (precious, beloved, adored, my precioussss) followers, I figure I can hope to quality:

1. What’s your guilty pleasure?  So You Think You Can Dance.  The dancers just seem like nice people.  Don't care for the more raunchy stuff (that's what the fast forward button is for), but I do like the contemporary dances... such an art!  I don't watch much TV, so when I do... well,  I'm still catching up with episodes.   I'm down to the final 10, which was aired in July.  DON'T TELL ME WHO WINS!!  You'll ruin my TV watching for the next 2 months if you do!
2. You’re forced to choose between buying shoes and buying makeup.  Which one wins? Dark chocolate.  Chocolate makes me beautiful.  
3. Which skill, or set of skills, do you still want to master?  Drawing.  And learning foreign languages.
4. Which movie recently made you weep?  A movie?  Ha!  Try the Johnson & Johnson baby lotion commercial.  (Sob)
5. What tidbit about you would surprise most of your blog readers?  I just auditioned for the role of Mrs. Cratchit.  I had to pretend to show love and concern to a man I just met.  It was interesting.  
6. If I took away books and music from you, which would cause you to have withdrawal symptoms?  I hope never to find out...
7. What is a deal-breaker for you in friendships?  Dishonesty.
8. Planes, trains, and automobiles. Which is your preferred mode of transportation?  Why?  Horses.  They have personality, and are alive. :)
9. Who was your favorite musician when you were a teenager?  Celine Dion.
10. Which subject did you hate the most in school? Political Science.
11. What fashion trend did you try out and live to regret?  I do not try fashion trends.  I wait till they correspond with what I wear all the time, and then I go about with my nose in the air for a whole month or two.  

Speaking of "in the air,"  I will soon be taking a very short flight to visit beloved family.  And I am all kinds of nervous.  Thanks for your prayers for your wet blanket of a blogger here.  I will be meditating a bunch on Isaiah 41:10...

"Do not fear...  I will uphold you." 

Linked to The Conversion Diary and Being a Wordsmith

Discipline from the dentist's chair

1.  I thought it would work out okay.  Really, I did.  I had both of my responsible, older daughters with me. We had staggered appointment times.  I didn't want to bother my mom about watching them... and when I did, her cell phone was deceased, forgotten, or left in the car, as is wont to occur.

That is the mindset I had when I singlehandedly took all four of my children to a dentist appointment.

Oh, it started so smoothly.  The baby was asleep.  I sent my oldest to check in, and sighed.  This was good. Really good.  A nap would help the youngest's mood for this brave experiment in mommy idiocy.

ROFL

2.  As we waited in the snoozing silence, I spent time catching up with Claire, my non-homeschooled kiddo. I miss her during the day... But she's loving her classroom, and has a million, trillion, bazillion things to say about the new kid Dante, and which tests she aced, and what they did at recess, and how gym went, and what book Mrs. So and So read at library, and and and she was called in.  And then so was I.

Oh dear, this was not the staggered, one after another appointments I expected!  This was not perfect!  But okay.  Offices can run late and early sometimes, I suppose.

Regretfully, I picked up my little one (thus rousing her from a deep sleep), hoisted her onto my hip, and made my way down the narrow hall.

3.   The dental hygienist blinked at me.  Just blinked.  Like a non-comprehending bird.

"Uh.  You have kids here."

"Yes.  Yes. I do.  I'm so sorry I couldn't find a sitter.  I thought..."

It didn't matter what I thought.  Delighted where wakefulness had found her, the toddler was already clambering onto the chair, while my preschooler grabbed a metal sharp tooth jabber-scraper thingie.

"Mom what's THIS do...  Oh look, A BABY MIRROR..."

The hygienist was still blinking.  Frozen in awe of what was, apparently, her first sighting of human children.

4. I decided to fake it till I made it.  I turned on my Montessori teacher voice.  Smooth and calm as a puddle of cream.

"Okay, we're going to come here and sit peacefully, just like this, on the floor by the window.  You see?" Keeping the lilting quality in my tone, I gestured at the 1.4 feet of space between the foot of the dentist's chair.  I balked a little.  Germs be damned or..."Or you could stand by the window and count cars."

This worked long enough for the chair to groan into position,  the light to click on, and for me to pry my narrow mouth open enough to get sharp instruments put in.  (Really, what kind of mental evolution does it take for us to voluntarily allow strangers to stick sharp things in our mouths?  Humans are so bizarre...)

Exuding doubt from every pore at the presence of miniature humans in her pristine working space, the hygienist's eyes narrowed in grim determination.   Even with a masked mouth, I could tell from those eyes: this was to be a fast appointment.

I don't think my teeth were ever before attacked quite so vehemently.  But I'm pretty tough, and I was so distracted by the behavior of my children that I didn't feel much.  I kept trying to peer down my cheeks at them from my severely reclined position.  I strained to hear past the mouth vacuum that was devouring the inside of my cheek while sounding like a pterodactyl dying of a respiratory illness.

5. Then they did it.  Those tiny, miscreant minors: they found the wind-up toys.

What's wrong with that? you say.  No no no, my friends, my friends: these were decorative toys.  Not meant for something as basic and vulgar as "playing."  This was apparently the eyelash-batter's prized collection of wind-up toys on display.

Nothing could be more appealing to my children at that moment then a squirrel with a whirling nut on its nose.

And nothing could be more breakable.  Not only were they (gasp) playing with them, attempting to overwind them, but they were starting to fight over them...

6.  I dare you to try disciplining your children, in any form or fashion, while lying on a dentist's chair with your mouth full of metal and sucking instruments.

"Gerr gerr GERR gerr gerr GERRR!" was pretty much what I managed.

My tooth attacker was choosing to ignore the existence of the little wretches, and so was of little use or assistance in the escalating clamor over whose wind-up toys now belonged in whose sticky fingers...

Most mercifully, my oldest came in shortly after that moment.  Placing my fist on my open palm, I signed "help," my eyes begging her for assistance.  I circled my palm over my heart.  "Please!"

I bless the Lord I taught them basic signs.

"All right you two, come with me."  And taking each of them by a hand, she led them to the waiting room with promises of stories.  She's SO good with the little ones...

Beaming with pride, I settled back to drool in peace over my paper bib.  And I was soon finished, the hygienist acted as though the disturbing vision of youngsters had not ever disrupted the sanctuary of her room.  I did notice that I was not given a choice of toothbrush color however, nor offered a prize from the prize box...

7.  My peace remained until I entered the waiting room to collect my offspring, where the following waited for me:  Two older daughters, entranced by a cooking show on the blaring set.  And the occupants of the waiting room, entranced by my youngest, who was most joyously bottomless, her sodden diaper having been cast off beside a perturbed older woman with a red bag which was not, however, as red as my face.

"Clothe yourselves with humility."  1 Peter 5:5

Linked to Christian Mommy Blogger, Missional Women, and The Conversion Diary

Football Widowhood

1.  A glazed-over stare.  Unreactivity to kid chaos around.  Where "1 minute" can mean about 15.

Yeah, I'm trying to DRAW, which is scary.  To see this done WELL, go to Mama Knows, Honeychild

2.  The life of the football widow.  While he senses only the game, I perceive...

Our TV is smaller than a big box.  But I can't draw that.  Need art lessons...:D

3.  I've tried.  I want to like it football!!  It would be so convenient!  My husband would be so happy!! Instead, I look exactly like this when the Pats are on.  

Like, exactly.  Note attempt of patience in eyes contrasted with pursed lips.  grrrr...

4.  But I can't.  Football feels intrusive, downright annoying, and lasts forEVer.

5. The only time I can care is when I see them do something remotely good.  But those stories are fewer and farther between than the yucky stuff.  Sigh...  I want athletes I can look up to, even a little bit!  I want to know they hug their moms.  Donate millions to charity.  Or hey, that they're Christian. Not just overpaid, immature dudes playing a game and thus heralded as national heros. 

It bugs me...  It makes me draw bad sketches in the inimitable style of Mama Knows, Honeychild.  But hey, it's amusing me, and it's does not involve a ball or watching the Pets beat the Jats or whatever...

6.  So football season is an exercise in patience for me, a tiny piece of purgatory, a step towards sanctification. Some menfolk have informed me that it's a peaceful substitute for war; football is better than war, for sure...

7.  In sum, while I find myself (very much) wishing I had a show that took three hours at a time that I "had" to watch at least once a week to make it "fair"... I will focus on being grateful that my man does not care much for the beer and chick commercials, and that he owns but one car and one minivan. Even if the pursuit of a ball looks all cool like this to him:

"Heap getum ball.  Runnum ball to line.  Makem touchdown.  Capisce?" 

but reminds me of nothing more than this:

As a substitute for complaining or giving the evil eye, I will try to chat with a friend or go out for coffee, praying the kids don't destroy the house or each other.  

And really... I now have my own hobby.  A hobby that will help me avoid near occasions of sin regarding my football frustration: I can blog.  Even if I can't draw...

"You must not eat their meat or touch their carcasses: they are unclean for you." Leviticus 11:8

P.S. This was referring to pigs.  Like "pigskin."  Aka, football... forbidden by Scripture?? 

P.P.S. Yes, I'm kidding.  Made me grin though.  :D) 

Linked to The Conversion Diary

"The Decorative Scoop"

Ah.  You have happened upon one of my strengths.  :D

I have been asked the following question for my September Even Day Challenge: "Share 1 or 2 of your favorite recipes, DIY projects, or beauty/fashion tips."

Thus, here are Seven Quick Takes to a fun family craft: "The Decorative Scoop."

1.  Obtain an empty milk carton.  Rinse it out.  (I find the 2% "Great Value" from Walmart works best.)

2.  At this point, you won't be able to find the scissors.   Just trust me, ya won't.  So give your husband a sharp knife.

3.  (Husband's love sharp knives).

4.  Ask your husband to make your humble milk jug into a "scoop."  He will intently engage in the task (even though you interrupted his dinner.)

5.  In an effort to involve the whole family, peel stickers off the wall and have toddler decorate your scoop.

6.  I find that "The Decorative Scoop" is very versatile.  Suggestions that come to mind involve sand, cereal, and kitty litter, though I would recommend making a separate "Decorative Scoop" for each individual purpose.

7.  Here, my daughter demonstrates with Cheetos.  Note her surreal joy as she successfully pours her snack into a bowl.

Reduce, reusing, and recycling, this activity will have your kiddos and spouse begging for more, and demanding "Why are we doing this, Mom?  No, really?"

Linked to The Conversion Diary and Being a Wordsmith

Love in the time of motherhood

The following is based merely on hearsay.  Any resemblance to actual people or events real or imagined is strictly hypothetical.  I present three sets of:

Seven Quick Takes 

A.  Setting the Mood

1.  Wake up and grunt a goodbye to your husband, who's leaving for work.
2.  Rub eyes repeatedly.  

3.  Make food, feed kids food, have food, clean up after food.  Repeat three times.

4.  Run errands, make phone calls, answer emails, sweep floors, throw out trash, start to organize a closet then forget you were doing that because you went to use the bathroom facilities and found a popsicle left melting on the toilet and loudly summoned the possible offenders none of whom remember anything about the incident.
5.  Spout off nonsensical tirade in which you insist the popsicle has only one stick, is not ambulatory, and is incapable of hopping.  Settle for supervising a whine-laden session of floor scrubbing by the potential miscreants, at least one of whom is guilty.

6.  Grandly supervise while finishing third cup of coffee, go to kitchen to look at clock and gasp in dismay. Husband is in the driveway and there is a box of popsicles oozing sticky brightly-colored fluids on the floor in front of the wide-open freezer.  Realize toddler sitting in middle of mess is at least partly at fault.
7.  As you apply copious amounts of Bounty and organic cleaning spray, you realize there are male eyes watching you.  And you have no sons. 

B.  Determining the time

1.  With all kids dabbling halfheartedly at puddles of goo on kitchen floor, rummage in drawer and pull out a well-worn chart full of red and green baby stickers.

2.  8C?  Any K?  No K?  Consider other methods you've used to find out "where you are."  Did I take my temperature this morning?  Did I write it down?  Did I put it on the wrong day?  Did I use pen? Nope, that's sharpie... 

3.  Feel tired.  Look at letters and numbers and stickers.  Reflect on just reasons, generosity, selfishness, sanity, temporal society, eternal good, college tuitions, Humanae Vitae, Gaudium et Spes.
4.  Realize you have been humming, "Que sera, sera..." the entire time.
5.  End exquisite family planning exercise by stuffing chart back in drawer and stride into the kitchen to inspect the cleaning.  Shoes stick to floor.  

6. Initiate bedtime routine, warp speed.  Find favorite nightgown of preschooler.  Realize it is full of popsicle juice.  Handle tantrum of preschooler as you insist on a cleaner nightgown.  And a bath.  And brushing teeth.  No you can't eat the toothpaste.  No you can't have another snack.  Yes you need to go to bed.  Now.

7.  Realize, out of force of habit, you have donned an old t-shirt and stretchy pants.  Reflect on choice for half a second, shrug, think of mantra "what happens, happens" and continue uniting children with beds.

C.  The stars align

1.  Collapse onto couch, all quiet aside from the jazzy tunes of the weather channel.
2.  Swipe through I-phone.  Realize hubby is looking at you.

3.  Check just one Groupon deal real quick and then wander to bed

4.  Momentarily regret choice of wardrobe.  Realize you have some nicer things somewhere.  Realize this ultimately does not matter too much.

5.  Hear thud.  Hear preschooler wail.  Sigh, grab robe, help her back into bed, rub her back for a few moments till the sniffling quiets and return.

6.  Hear footsteps thudding down the stairs.  Hiss at older daughter through the door that you will be up to kill the tiny bug in just a few minutes really for goodness sake are you kidding me?!? 

7.  Forget about bug.  Fall asleep.  Awake to discover a popsicle was left in the bedside table drawer.

Because they walk by themselves, didn't you know?

"Count it all joy..." James 1:2

Linked to www.conversiondiary.com

Top 10 Steps to Homeschooling

1.  Have a wild fit of hubris mitigated by sheer common sense: Without a doubt, you are your child's best option for a teacher.

2.  Spend the rest of the summer entertaining doubts.

3.  Attend a homeschool convention.  Realize that you, too, can now be called "eccentric."  (Recall field trip you once took to see Pollyanna statue.  Recognize that the shoe fits...)

Look at endless kinds of books, vast varieties of curricula, and hosts of online programs.  All "on sale." Leave more confused than when you entered.

4.  Ask your homeschooling friends "what they use" to homeschool.  Have 98% of them say, "Oh, we do our own thing."

??????

5.  Inquire as to what "their own thing" entails.  Acquire 87 recommendation of "must have" books and 48 "can't live without" curricula.

6.  Despair and ignore all educational options for a month.

7.  Join homeschool forums online.  Stem rising panic as you apprehend that people got their books in April.  That moms are putting finishing touches on home "classrooms."  That you don't even have a "real" desk.

My"classroom"

8.  "Get around to" writing the all-important "letter of intent to homeschool" to the superintendent of the city.  Wait for a response.

9.  The night before, wonder what the heck you think you are doing.  Curb urge to run to 24 hour Walmart to grab school supplies and send child off to nearest public institution of learning.

Insecurely ask child if they still "want to do this."  Get an unequivocal assent.

10.  Take deep breaths.  Look at the stack of elementary, high school, and college material you pulled out of hiding from the attic.  To begin, select the Bible.  The first chapter of Genesis.  Because, first things first, you know?

Read aloud the ancient poetry: "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.  Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters...

the first day...

And it was very good."

Linked to

http://www.catholicbloggersnetwork.com/p/link-up-blitz.html

http://www.weirdunsocializedhomeschoolers.com/,

and http://www.manylittleblessings.com/category/top-ten-tues/

Top 10 hazards of the doctor's office

Yessir yessir, it's a "hot" month here at the blogathon... Today's hot topic: I just got diagnosed with IBS, which pairs nicely with my Crohn's!  Yay!

Is there a less sexy diagnosis?  I mean, diseases used to have romanticized, almost pretty names even for lousy things.  "Consumption."  "Tissick."  Even "Rising of the Lights."  

But none of that, I have Irritable... never mind.  I'm going to get to drink fiber drinks just like me da.  :)

That's why I haven't been quite up to par on posts recently... I get dizzy and woozy during such flare-ups.  My state of mind could best be expressed in "pig Indian," the nonsensical version of my native ancestor's talk-talk: "Ugh.  Feel bad, worst in many moons.  Likum coffee, but it no likum me.  Want sleep heap much.  Ugh."

Anyhow, from personal experience, today: the top 10 hazards of taking your children with you on a doctor's appointment.  Which, by the law of averages, will happen at some point if you have kids, however you try to avoid it.

1.  Elevator buttons

First things first: if you have more than one kid, they will fight over who gets to press the button. Every time.

2.  Magazines

As you discard Cosmopolitan and Redbook and hand out Parenting and Family Circle, you are also doling out ads.  For toys.  And new things that cost money.  They will take note.  "Oooo I want this!"

3.  The water cooler

Innocently placed in the most unavoidable location, this innocuous device is one of the most feared and dreaded challenges of the doctor's office avec l'enfants experience.  Some can be unplugged and will then be "bwoken," but others... hide the cups and muffle the screams, mama friends.  This one is tough.  Be prepared to handle a tantrum and hold five plastic cups while cleaning spills, changing clothes, and drinking absurd amounts of water, lovingly doled out by your doting little ones who are convinced, over and over, that "Mommy needs a dwink."

So that's the water dispenser... there several other types of dispensers, once you finally get in to see the doctor.

4. Sanitizer

Now available in nifty boxes which require only the wave of a hand (or standing under it the wrong way) for a child's handful of Purell to be wiped on the back of your shorts.  Because that will be the quickest way for them to get the stuff off their hands.

5.  Latex gloves

Your kids will love playing Doc McStuffins with several pairs of stretchy hands.  They can also make fine, creepy balloons when inflated.  Enjoyably chokable.  Now available in purple.

6.  Tissues

The good, ole' fashioned appeal of one of childhood's favorite dispensers, always in abundance here

7.  Sharps containers

No, they can't really get into those, thankfully.  But somehow, the sight of visible, infectious needles hanging over your child's head will not help your frayed nerves.

8.  The bright red box of hazardous waste

This ain't locked.  'Nuff said.

9.  Germs

I'm not really a germophobe, I just don't like germs and have a healthy respect for them.  And doctor's attract people with germs, who come with their germs, and leave their germs.  And kids have a magnetism to germs.

Why can't they make paper that actually fits the tables???  Why why why....

10.  The rolling chair

"Whhheeeeee!!!  Wahahahaha!!  Mine!  My tuuwwnnn!  WEEEEEEEE!"

Oh yes: if there's a mirror, they will lick it.  I would have taken a pic of that part too but at the time I was too busy trying to pulling them away from the glass, talking to the doctor, removing dancing preschoolers from the exam table, while trying to keep an attractive johnny on.

Stay well my friends, stay well.  And if not, may your children sit in quiet pairs, on chairs.

"I am the LORD, who heals you."  Exodus 15:26

Linked to: http://www.catholicbloggersnetwork.com/p/link-up-blitz.html
and http://www.manylittleblessings.com/categories/top-ten-tuesday-info/