Holy Week

This is Holy Week for the Catholic Church. I often look back on the lenten season and wonder if I did enough. I think sometimes I tend to get these illusions of granduer in my head of how Lent should go. I think this particular Lent, I had no expectations and it worked out better. Instead of making sure I played the martyr this season, I just set goals. I met most ,but not all, of those goals. I am just a work in progress. I think the biggest lesson for me though was that when I just get out of the way of what "I" think and let Him take over, things run smoother and opportunities present themselves that normally wouldn't. I usually end Lent with the feeling like I have not sacrificed enough but then I realize, it's not really about feeling at all. I can always use improvement on doing more penance, more prayer time, and all around being a better person. I think I met my goal (set unconciously) of letting Him increase and me decrease.

Restless

That would describe me lately. I have two issues going on that require waiting to see what unfolds. One is mostly financial. The other is what path to go down in life. (no wonder I'm restless right?!)
We are doing the visits to each Catholic High School this spring. We have visited one so far and I absolutely loved it. Jack liked it alot. He doesn't show much emotion but he did express how much he liked it. (I have to add here too that I was incredibly proud of how he interacted with the faculty and how he carried himself that day. He was such a...well, young man).
The outside didn't look like much but we were really impressed. The price tag isn't bad and is actually doable. The school was small so it was comparable to the environment he is in now.
I am sure over the next few weeks, we will be able to have more to compare.
The issue is that Jack wants to go to this particular high school. It is an all boys school and is far away. He would have to board. I haven't even begun to think about how I will handle his absence during the week. Right now I have just tried to focus on what an incredible opportunity that would be for him (especially with a house full of sisters). I am also wondering how I am going to get the money tree out back to finally bloom $1000 bills. I don't feel as restless about this decision because we have been down this path before when deciding what elementary school to send the kids to. All we did was attend open houses and homeschooled for a year before the choice was made known. I have not been disappointed so far in where they are at now. It is the same as this situation for the most part. Attend open houses and go from there. Financially I don't see how the numbers will work but I have faith that if he is meant to go, the Lord will provide the funding for that.
The other issue: I am on the wait list to get into Nursing School. The wait is one year longer than I was initially told. What if I get pregnant? What if we can't financially do the things we want to do. So many what ifs down that path. Too many to go into here.
I have been praying fervently about it and have heard nothing but silence on the matter. I decided last week that I would go to confession. I do believe in God's mercy. I also truly believe that it is harder to hear Him when we are stuffed full of sins that need to be purged.
I find the whole process of confession frightening (for I truly believe I am saying my sins to Jesus) and incredibly peaceful. There is nothing like walking out of confession. I always feel light in my heart (lighthearted??). Anyways, I prayed some more about the second issue listed above. I was surprised with an answer. His answer is that He wants me to be totally dependant upon Him for this. I don't need clarification. I need to know that He is going to give me strength and wisdom when I need it and not a moment before. He is telling me that I need to live in the moment more and not worry so much about things that have not yet come to pass. He knows this is not a comfortable thing for me to do. I will step outside this comfort zone and follow His lead. Where He leads me, I will follow.

Be careful of what you say..

I was just saying to Matt last night that we have been so fortunate this flu season to dodge our usual routine of sickness. I said this as we were winding down for the night. The kids were all in bed. The "spring ahead" time change still not allowing me to be as sleepy as I usually am this time of night. Matt has been working alot of overtime so he fell asleep on the couch almost instantly. This is okay by me as some of my "junky" shows are coming on. You know, the ones where other people have problems so profound that it makes my life look like a walk through Disney. I stayed up much later than I should have. Tuesdays are incredibly busy around here with after school activities at various places and I have class at night. I know better than to be sleep deprived on Tuesdays. Still, I cannot stop watching the shows I am forbidden to watch when my saner half is awake. I feel like a kid again. I managed to drag my still not sleepy body up the stairs to bed somewhere around midnight. After all, I could stay up late...I hadn't a care in the world.
Sometime between four and five a.m. I was awakened by a sound. I couldn't tell you in type written words how that sound goes but it is a familiar sound in the parenthood world. It is the sound that illicits jumping out of bed while scanning around looking for some sort of container that will serve the remainder of the day as the "puke bucket". It is the sound of one's stomach turning with the sole purpose of emptying its contents. It is the sound that announces 'the stomach flu has arrived'.
I run (no container to be found btw) to the bathroom where my sweet Hannah is standing over the sink submitting to her stomach's request to empty itself. I go through several emotions all at once. The typical "ewww" and of course pity for this little girl who was rudely awaken to her body's violent way of ejecting sickness. I also venture into emotions that typically are not part of this show playing out in front of me (that I am now an unwilling character in). Pride. I am so proud of her for getting to the bathroom in time. Not bad for a 7 year old. I wish that she would have chosen the toilet but hey, it's not her bed ...or worse, the carpet. I also feel pity for myself..."why couldn't this have happened last week when I was on spring break? I have school so late tonight and I am going to be sooo tired. I am going to have to cancel our sewing lesson...etc" It is in those times of sleep deprivation that we are truly our sourest selves. Unfortunately the pride fades a bit and the self pity increases when I see that the front of her brand new white (of course) tshirt that she insisted on wearing last night did not fare as well as I initially thought. BTW...we had pizza for dinner. So there I am in the wee morning hours wiping puke off her arms due to having to somehow manuever this shirt strategically off of her, washing out a white tshirt, scooping puke out of the sink, using Clorox wipes by the dozens, and providing comfort to a strangely calm Hannah. She in turn has a calming effect on me. We go downstairs to face the rest of the day together. We both know it's going to be a crummy day but are reassured that whatever comes our way (or out our mouths) we will get through it.
I can't wait to see what is in store for us the rest of the week.

UPDATE: It hit Jack and the next day, I fell to the sickness. Matt had a variation of it. Now let's see if it strikes the other two.....

Work out roller coaster...

This is day four of our workout. Matt and I are trying a popular exercise program. It is hard but I am glad we are doing it. Needless to say, we are feeling pretty sore. I went to bed last night around 9pm. The alarm rang around 5:30am. I didn't want to get out of bed but I do want to wear a bathing suit in a few months without feeling too self conscious. I got up and put in the next DVD. Yoga. I despise Yoga. I cannot stand all of the "clear your mind and feel the positive energy" blather. So I put it on mute and held most of the poses. I didn't finish the video but what I did feel was a nice stretching of my incredibly sore muscles. After my half-assed-half-hour workout I brewed my coffee and sat with a steaming mug warming my hands. I was feeling pretty good. Nice and stretched, no worries. Just felt really good.
Then it was time to wake the children. My four angels were dreaming away as I quietly went to each bed rubbing warm little backs. "Time to get up.". Two of my girls came down and started their morning rituals. My son was in the shower. I thought it would be funny to run my fingernails along the door each time I passed the bathroom. I started helping my youngest get her clothes for the day as I heard the shower shut off. I walked past the bathroom door one last time and couldn't help myself to one more round of nails on the bathroom door. The door opened abruptly and my preadolescent precious boy had a nasty look on his face. He expressed how incredibly annoying my little game was and punctuated his sentence with "Seriously". Still, I walked around my chipper self. All three girls were in the middle of their breakfast when Jack came down. I smiled at him. It didn't get returned. Well, he is a preteen after all so what do I expect.
Then the picking on his sisters starts. Nothing will kill my mood more than the sound of one of my girls squealing "Stop it!" because a sibling (in this case brother dear) is messing with them. It is like a vacuum but instead of sucking up dirt, it sucks up any good mood I have going. It is in these times that I wish I had my husbands super power to block out all annoying sounds. I have not been blessed with this though so I react. They both spent time in their rooms. One for irritating (because he was irritated with me) and one for squealing instead of telling him calmly. So as I finish typing this I am coming down off of my drill sergeant mode. I just shout orders and my little soldiers follow them. I have trained them so well in fact, that they cannot function without these orders. I have to come up with a different way. I also am praying that I get my chipper feeling back. Maybe Yoga isn't so bad after all.

What doesn't kill you.....

You know the saying, "what doesn't kill you will make you stronger."? I hate that saying. These kids are going to be the death of me and the more that goes on...the less strong I feel. No, I don't feel empowered at all.
We are in the preteen stage with our son. He is an easy going kid for the most part. Perhaps this is why I am so shocked when he spouts off. His issue is computer time. We think he is on the computer too much. He plays a certain game that is pretty harmless. It's age appropriate. I would much rather he be on this website vs others. We are pretty strict with what he watches and other facets of his life as well. Last card marking Jack's grades were lower in two classes than we felt they should be. So we limited him on the computer. He brought those two grades up and his report card reflected a hard working student. So we relaxed a bit on the computer rule. My husband in the meantime has felt we all have been spending too much time in front of screens. Being that it's winter time, it's not uncommon for all of us to resort to some sort of electronic entertainment. (BTW, we wouldn't have a tv at all if it were up to him). When my husband feels compelled to do something about the behaviors of this family, I tend to let him go with it. He is the head of the household after all. Needless to say, this didn't go over well with Jack. Instead of handling it the adult way (which why would he, he is only 12) he started saying smart remarks such as, We were ruining his childhood, sulking, pouting etc. Even though we have discussed how he should handle this in the future as this behavior is not OK, I have to admit I see his point. He is a good kid, he gets good grades, and he is responsible, what's the big deal if he is on the computer??? We worked it out and all parties came to the table with feeling and good solutions. This didn't happen though without stress. Mostly because I react emotionally when I should be acting more like a courtroom...no emotion allowed. This simple struggle we had with the computer had more to do with letting bit by bit my "baby" grow up and less to do with a disrespectful mouth. It stresses me out.
The other issue is Hannah and her asthma. She missed all week last week. She wasn't sick, just coughing her head off and not sleeping. She has been back for four days and I get a call from the school secretary that Hannah doesn't feel like she is breathing well again. She just finished a round of steriods. So what is going on? It will make you pull your hair out. I don't understand how this condition is non-existant most of the year and one little cold (no flu this year even) will take her out of school for a week.
On top of all of this, Olivia has been an emotional wreck. Even though I know this is perfectly normal for 3rd grade, it still is hard to go thru. She isn't a crier. So when those little things cause her to melt down, I find the whole thing unnerving. It's so out of character for her.
Emma is going thru a phase too that has made me parent differently than I am used to. Again, no emotion works best. The pathways of discipline that I have perfected after raising three have been thrown out the window with number four. I have at last found what works for her so at least I have that small triumph. It is not a natural way for me but I am at least capable of doing it.
These kids are going to be the death of me. I always thought that having four kids 7 and under was hard with all of it's demands. I didn't realize that one day I would long for those days. All of those parents who have gone thru the teen years and lived to tell the tale all smile a knowing smile at me.
Heaven help me.

Long time no posts...This and that...

I just picked up Hannah from school. She wasn't breathing very well. It dawned on me it has been one year to the day since she has been hospitalized with pneumonia. My sweet girl kept apologizing for making me come all the way out to get her (the school is about 20 minutes away). What an angel to think of me as she was dealing with not feeling well.
Everything else has been going normal for us. Hopefully this latest episode with Hannah will just phase itself out. I would whisk her away to Florida but it's not much warmer there!
Lent started on Feb. 17th this year. The weekend prior to that was Valentine's Day. I thought it would be a good idea to invite a few families over for a pre-Lenten feast. I cooked chicken cacciatori, spaghetti and meatballs and a cheese lasagna. It really turned out to be a nice gathering. Between four families there were 19 kids! As always, there is wonderful conversation among us adults. We dine frequently with the one couple. It is almost like watching your favorite symphony unfold. We all start out with catching up with what is going on in each other's lives since last we gathered. Then as dinner is being prepared, everyone offers help and takes on a job. We let the children eat first. When they are finished, we adults are able to gather around one table to break bread together. After the food is put away and dishes are mostly done, we sit around and talk about faith. We all share this same love for the Lord. We talk openly about how hard it can be to raise a family in this world...what works, what doesn't. We aren't afraid to have differing opinions on certain wordly issues. All views are accepted and no hurt feelings if refuted. I think it has to do with the fact that we can look at each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. We speak about God and being Catholic with such passion. It inspires me. It is fellowship at its best mostly because it takes place in the confines of a home. One couple is a bit older than my husband and I. They have walked down some roads that still lay before us. It is nice to take in what they have to say about their experiences and their struggles. They are kind enough to share that part of themselves. After everyone leaves...and it is usually quite late in the evening...I find myself looking forward already to the next gathering. We are blessed to have such nice friends.

Happy Birthday to Jack!

My sweet boy has turned into a young man right before my eyes. Long gone are the days of mispronouncing words and scootching across the floor...despite the fact that it feels like yesterday to me. We wanted a baby so badly. Twelve years later, I am amazed every time Jack comes down the stairs in the morning. He has surpassed me in shoe size by two sizes. He is an inch taller...and growing. His voice is changing and so is his attitude! I have so much I still want to teach him before he goes out on his own. He is kind,intelligent, FUNNY, and contemplative. He is passive, can be lazy (don't know where he gets that from!), and has his head in the clouds. Perfect don't you think?
I am blessed to be his mother. I have had to change the way I parent him these past few months. It is a very hard transition for me. I feel like I have given him good roots (for the most part) and now it's time to let him flap his wings a bit. It is hard because I still want to hold him close. It is hard letting him grow up. If I don't, he will not have the skills he needs to fly out on his own.
Happy Birthday to my young man!

Last Monday I went to see Dr. A. He was very thourough in his explanation of what was to happen during the surgery and most importantly, he let me do alot of talking. He mentioned that he had personally spoken with my regular OB. He also mentioned that after having 5 boys, he and his wife adopted from China. Red Thread and a confirmation from God I think. I was surprised how calm I was. I almost felt like I was in business mode and would deal with any feelings on what was about to happen later. Tuesday morning came and I went into labor right as we were leaving for the hospital. I was whisked off to the Pre-op area where the nurses started an IV right away and gave me some pretty good drugs so that the pain was mostly gone and another drug so that I didn't care. The dr. said he barely had to do anything because the baby was right there (no D&C). I go to see him for a follow up visit later next week.
When the dr. came out to inform Matt how the surgery went, Matt asked if the doctor could tell what sex the baby was. I already knew...a little boy. We have decided to name him Stephen after the first martyr of the Church. The baby's remains will be sent to a cemetary not too far away.
I have recovered better than I thought I would physically. Emotionally I feel like I am doing better on the whole...but not so good during certain periods. I have my moments and the sadness can be incredibly profound. I have not experienced anything like it so far. I go from just sadness at the loss of what might have been to actually wanting this baby back so bad it hurts. I feel like I am missing a part of myself. My body is starting to return to its regular shape just as I was starting to feel beautiful (which is why I thought it must be a boy). My milk came in and that bothered me alot. I had to force myself to focus on the positive part of it...that my body realized I was no longer pregnant. I have been trying to keep myself busy (which is easy to do with four kids). I try not to let my mind wander too much into that dark area. My boy is in Heaven with his Father. I try to rejoice for him and I pray to him that he watches over our family. We miss him.
That's where most of the pain comes from...missing him. In my selfishness in wanting him here, I wallow in that sorrow. It is part of the normal grieving process I am told. I just never wanted this to be part of my "normal". I accept that these things happen. All of our children are on loan for they never truly belong to us. We are powerless to stop these things from happening. But I cannot ignore the ache in my arms that long to hold that child. I cannot ignore the hollowness in my heart for that sweet baby boy. I cannot pretend that I am all better. However, there are things I do know...that I cannot get through all of this without the grace of God. I cannot begin to sift through my feelings without pleading to Him daily for healing and acceptance. I cannot function without the small ways He shows me He is near. It is faith that will get me through.

Grief

It has been well over a month since my last post. I don't even know where to begin. FIL is doing well with his liver transplant despite a few setbacks. I also satisfied some nursing callings with being in charge of hooking him up to his IV.

Another happening is going to be difficult to write about but important to document. We lost our precious baby. I went in for a routine 16 week check up. Dr.C couldn't find the heartbeat. I wasn't overly concerned until the Ultra sound scan showed no movement. It wasn't a great picture but it didn't take long to know why we weren't hearing it on the doppler. I had Han and Em with me (so they could hear the heartbeat). I just felt so numb. I felt like things were very unreal. Dr. sent me over to the hospital where they could get a better picture. I wanted so bad for the dr. to be wrong. I still had a glimmer of hope. The dr. explained that because I was 16 weeks along that it would be a delivery but they would keep me as comfortable as possible. That part didn't compute right away.
Matt came to pick me up from the dr.'s and we drove off to the hospital. We walked in the room and I laid down on the table. Across the room was a huge monitor where you could see what the technician was scanning. An ultrasound picture came up immediately of the profile of our baby. It was perfectly identifiable. I could see the spine, the hands with little fingers. I could see the skull and the shape of the cheeks. I could see the baby's knees drawn up to itself in true fetal position. I could also see that where a beating heart should be pounding away, there was nothing.
The technician asked if I wanted to monitor turned off. I said no. After all, this would be the only glimpse of my baby that I will ever get. I just kept looking and staring. So peaceful curled up in there. It gave me great comfort to see my baby and know for sure that he/she didn't make it. It is strange to feel that but it left no doubt that my baby was gone. Dr. M came in and explained that the baby was only 13.5 weeks along. He said it could be a genetic thing (which is why most miscarriages occur). He also pointed out some spots of blood near the placenta. Despite the fact that I have not spotted or bled, it could have been the cause. I don't know if we will ever have an answer for that. They were very compassionate there and I am thankful that I had medical staff who had the utmost respect for my feelings. They gave us a moment to gather ourselves together.
My regular OB called and explained why I had to go to someone else. It is risky with bleeding and I also have a bicornuate uterus. My regular OB was wonderfully compassionate. He told me to grieve and mourn the loss of my child. He was such a comfort to me.
The grief of this loss has hit me in waves. It comes at unexpected moments. One minute I will busy myself with something. The next, I am walking through the house and suddenly burst into tears. The pain of this is physical and can be suffocating at times. It literally hurts in my heart and it bends me in half. I have been through some rough times in my life and I know how emotional pain feels. But, this is the first time I have felt grief on this level... I have lost my baby. I know that these things happen. I am not wallowing in self pity. I do not ask myself, "why me?". I understand it is nothing I did or didn't do. I do not think it to be unfair. I do not feel like I am being punished. I am just simply in mourning. My arms ache for this baby that I will never hold. I feel completely blessed to have been this child's mommy for 13.5 short weeks. I have loved this child from the moment I knew he/she existed. As a christian woman, I accept God's plan in all of this even if it is not my plan. I also know that through suffering comes great grace. I have already felt this grace in knowing just how much I am capable of loving another human being. I am that much closer to understanding how precious life is. That these little ones really are just on loan. I have known that with Hannah(and almost losing her with asthma) but I fully realize it with the loss of this little one.
I have been blessed also with a wonderful system of support. My husband has stood right next to me and has held me up even as he deals with his own grief. My sister has known what to distract me with. My friend, who has suffered this grief several times, has been a wonderful comfort to me. She has known exactly what to say and when to say it. All of the family members that have heard have expressed grief. So this baby was truly loved by all. I take comfort in knowing that all who knew about this baby have been touched by him/her.

Anniversary and a case of cramping....

Yesterday was a little crazy around here. I was up at night with this painful cramp in the middle of my lower abdomen. I didn't get worried until I couldn't find a comfortable position to lay in to escape some of the pain. Being that it was the middle of the night, I contemplated driving myself to the ER just to see what was going on. I really feared a miscarriage. I had never experienced that before. I waited until morning and the pain was a little better (at least when I laid a certain way). I called the dr. first thing. Matt drove the kids to school and came back to take me to my appt.
I turned to him at one point and said that I was glad he was home for our 15th anniversary but this isn't what I had in mind. We arrived at the dr. on time. As I told the nurse my symptoms, she got that hushed tone that people get who know that this may not have a good outcome. That's when the anxiety really set in. As soon as the dr. came in, the flood gate opened. He asked why I was crying. Um, hello, I am pregnant, do I need a reason to begin with?? Everything checked out alright though. The best part of all...we got to hear the baby's heartbeat. What an awesome anniversary gift. Matt and I truly have been blessed.

The Power of Prayer.

As I mentioned last post, there have been many God things that we have been blessed to be witness to. My FIL received his transplant. The next day, Olivia received her first communion. It was a beautiful day. One of those days that you don't need a picture to remember some of the images your mind has captured. One image is Matt praying over her before heading off to Mass.
During the Mass, each child went up to receive Jesus for the first time. The parents got to walk behind them. The child kneeled and we watched our child receive Christ. Olivia was one of the last ones to go. I stepped out of the pew and followed this beautiful (and I mean beautiful!) child towards the front of the Church. I watched the concentration on Liv's face. I don't think she smiled once due to being so "in the zone". Liv is all business when it is a serious moment. I watched as she knelt down and Father bent to pray over her before giving her the Host. I looked beyond Father and watched Jack, who was serving Mass, witness this from a better angle. And I bawled. I couldn't help it. I don't think there is anything more precious than to watch someone take Jesus for the first time...especially when it's your child.
During this Mass, we offered it up for my FIL's healing. We had received news that he was heading back to surgery due to a small leak in a major blood vessel. We lit a candle in front of St. Joseph's altar for his healing. What we didn't know at the time is that he told my MIL he knew he was dying. The tear was repaired. He came thru that surgery just fine. Praise God and the power of prayer. I truly believe that praying at that moment helped him through that time. I don't need proof, it's just something I know in my heart.
One more God moment: FIL is on medication that can cause hallucinations. He called and explained that he had these horrible nightmares...ones that he thought were real. I won't go into detail with what some of these nightmares were about. He was afraid to go back to sleep. So he stayed awake. Matt and Jack visited him in the hospital later that day. They brought him a picture of St. Michael (Jack had purchased at a local shrine to St. Joseph), a small crucifix, and a prayer card of Jesus. He has not had nightmares since. My MIL has kept the picture and is now saying the Prayer to St. Michael. The power of Prayer.

Time goes by so quickly...and the NEWS just keeps piling up.

It has been forever since my last blog. Much has happened here. Many life changing events and as always, God events.

On April 27th (there is significance to this date) I found out that we will be expecting our fifth child. Hannah's birthday is this day. Being that she too was a shock full o' blessing, it is very appropriate that I found out on that date.
At first I just kept praising God that He is so merciful to us in blessing us with another child. Then the reality of this news set in (I really need to trust in God and not listen to all of the junk in my head). I wasn't sure how Matt would react. I knew it wouldn't be anger or anything obnoxious but I wasn't sure it would be positive. Despite my own shock, I didn't feel like I could handle anyone else's. He was shocked but supportive. What else could he be? I don't think it is fair that he isn't allowed to express his real feelings on it for fear of offending me. But, I am not a big believer in life is fair anyways. He is a good man that husband of mine.

On May 8th, my FIL was called suddenly, unexpectedly, surprisingly etc...to go to the hospital to receive his new liver. When my MIL called, I was laying on the couch feeling crummy due to morning sickness (even though it was almost 10 pm). I heard Matt answer the phone and after a few sentences, I knew who was on the other end and what they were saying. An electric current went through my body. I can't describe it any other way. Very unexpected but what a blessing...this is my new motto.
FIL has come thru the surgery very well. He has had a few set backs. He is currently back in the hospital for various issues related to his transplant. He should be back home in a few days though. It has been a strain on my MIL. She has been doing very well despite it.
Next post I will talk about some God things. I have prayed more this month than any other time in my life. The only other time I remember praying with such vigor is when my brother was in Iraq. I find it ironic that I will pray for others with such fervor but when it comes to myself, I just kind of wing it. I will have to work on that.

St. Michael

I had a very interesting conversation with my sister. It was a conversation about those who have faith and those who reject it. In this conversation, she revealed that she had a personal encounter with a friend who not only rejects religion of any form, but also rejects God. When my sister was sharing her story, at first I just felt a profound sadness for her non believing friend. As the story went on, I at one point stopped my sister and told her she should rejoice that she was being tested. However, as my sister went on with her story I quickly came to understand why she was so affected by it. What started out as a simple exchange between the two, somehow turned into something that was disturbing. In this conversation my sister came to see first hand the hatred of our Lord. Don't get me wrong, I am not so naive that I don't think there are those who don't. But, When my sister revealed to me the contents of her encounter with someone who I think is beyond atheist I was in such shock. This person was just downright hateful. I had never heard before the spewing of such malice towards another human being simply because they spoke of God.
It made me realize that we are in battle.

St. Michael the archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray. And do thou O' Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God , cast into Hell, Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.
Amen.

Kids say the darndest things...

This post will be a work in progress. I am just thinking back on a few things that our kids have said over the years that were totally unique to our family. You know, the names they give things that a person outside of our circle of friends/family would have no clue as to what the kids were talking about.

Some examples are:
Emma has a care bear spoon. It has been washed so many times that all you can really see on it are some clouds that were once part of the picture. She has named it her "Michigan" spoon. I don't know why. I have no idea where the name evolved from. But everyone who has made themselves at home here knows that when Em asks for her Michigan spoon, it is the faded one in the drawer.


Jack eats a silly sandwich. A silly sandwich is something he invented at about three years old. It is a piece of bread, a slice of bologna and a dill pickle. He then curls the bread and bologna around the pickle (kind of like a make shift hot dog) and eats it. Ouila! Silly sandwich.

Olivia had her Num nee. This was her pacifier. She also called Noodles, NOONIES. This name stuck even to today. What's even funnier is that all of our neices and nephews now call them noonies. She used to call Hannah "Honey" and Jack "Guy". She would never say her own name. She was simply "Me".

Hannah spoke complete sentences at 15 months old so I cannot recall too much that she came up with. I will have to repost as I search the baby books.

I also find it funny that all of my kids have said "Callapitter" instead of caterpillar and aminal instead of animal.

Another treat in our house is orange juice mixed with 7UP or Sprite. I had a 2 liter of 7UP about to go flat and a little bit of OJ left so I mixed the two to make enough for everyone. They asked what the drink was called. So I said, "Juicy Spritz". Somehow that morphed into Itsy Spritz. I can only guess that it was because we were singing the Itsy Bitsy Spider song and it just kind of garbled all together. But years later, it has stuck...even with my 11 year old who will sometimes ask if we have 7UP to mix with his OJ and can he make an itsy spritz.

This next one probably could use it's own post because it's a bit long. But it has alot to do with mispronouncing words. On Thanksgiving of this year, Matt took his grandma home after dinner. I had eaten too much (who does that on Thanksgiving right?) and laid on the couch. We have Netflix so we had the instant movie going. I picked PeeWee's Big adventure. Well, there's the part where Pee Wee is in the truck with Large Marge. Those who have seen the movie know where I am going with this. Well, when Large Marge shows her "true colors" all four kids jumped on me screaming. The kids were traumatized but I never laughed so hard in my life. I had forgotten about that part but I will never forget it now. Anyways, Emma started talking about the movie (which ended with that part by the way) and called it "Peege Weege". I think she blended PeeWee and Large Marge.

I will update this post as more come to mind.
Other words the kids said:
My ties unshoed (my shoe is untied)
Scoof it (excuse me)
Meenas (bananas)
Mow lawner (lawn mower)
Poders (spiders)
Weeva (Olivia)

Jesus take the wheel...

I recently had a situation arise where I wanted to handle a family matter one way, and it turned out that the Lord steered me in another direction. I had an issue on my mind so I thought I would write a letter about it to vent it out. This letter was about certain issues going on in our extended family. We (Matt and I) felt the issues needed to be addressed.
The feelings put in that letter weren't uncharitable. In fact, I felt quite justified in what these feelings were. These were addressing issues that really needed to be brought up. Being that we all live far apart a letter seemed an appropriate forum to use.
It never ceases to amaze me that once you give your life over to God how he will steer you. (and it is a constant discipline that I am not always good at. It's kind of like air breaking from the passenger seat...instead of just trusting that the driver has things under control, you think you can take over by pumping the imaginary break).
So, I started writing the letter and it morphed into this totally different entity that I had no intention of it being. Many of my letters never get sent. They are for therapeutic purposes only. But this new letter was sent with Matt's approval for it had been on his heart too. I had no feedback to see how it was received. That is until a few days ago. Then the Lord let me see the fruits of my letting Him "drive" from a source that was unexpected. There were several recipients of this letter. The feedback was not only positive, it was full of thanksgiving to the point where I was a bit uncomfortable in saying, "your welcome". This source of thanksgiving isn't one to dole out compliments on a regular basis, let alone on a subject as serious as this one. I have to say that I was taken by surprise at the gratitude (I think falling off the seat was a better description). I felt guilt at not explaining myself to this source about the process of this letter and taking all of the kudos for it. I handled it the way I usually do...talking incessantly until the person starts to glaze over. Lots of hand motions and lots of going on and on about the same thing I just said in the letter. I think it's a coping mechanism...I don't know.
Maybe my goal for this week should be to repeat over and over....I must decrease so that He may increase.

I am way too saddened by this campaign to even comment on it. I think in this post I will just let the picture speak a thousand words.


Pax

Dr. Gupta and Bill Clinton

So, did anyone happen to catch the interview last night with Dr. S. Gupta and former Pres. Clinton? I for one did not. I read about it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ-W6dvIqmU

Seriously, what on earth came out of his mouth and why on earth didn't Dr. Gupta say anything??? It is beyond me. Could someone pick my jaw up off the floor please? If you didn't happen to see it and don't have time to see what the buzz is all about, it is the former President (that's right of the USA) stating his opinion of embryonic stem cell research. He basically says that the embryos being used haven't been fertilized yet. Huh? As if we start out as chickens? Did I miss something in science class?

I think I am too stunned to rant here.




You can also read the transcript on CNN's Larry King Live here:
http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0903/11/lkl.01.html

I spoke in an earlier post about having a missionary's heart. I even went so far as to inquiring about a mission trip our whole family could go on. After much discernment, I accepted that traveling outside of the country...presently...is not in the best interest for every family member. It is something that may be in our future, but not right now. So what is a person to do when they have this yearning in their heart yet have this very wonderful vocation (motherhood and married life) that they are dedicated to? You pray. I have to say that when I received an answer to my prayer about traveling to another country and that answer was a solid NO, I wasn't the happiest camper. Why would God give me this yearning but not show me the path in which to fulfill it? I kind of had an attitude just like a bratty teenager would: "Fine, then you figure out what to do with this thing you gave me! I give up! I have researched and even found a group that encourages whole families and You say no? I don't get it."
It's a good thing our Lord is merciful with attitudes such as mine. This answer to this prayer of mine came less than a year ago. It has taken me almost a year to finally get what it is that the Lord had in mind for this gift he gave me of a missionary's heart. To take you on the journey to that point, let me give some background on the story so as it unfolds, there is more understanding.
My FIL has Hepatitis C. It is something that he has lived with for about 20 years. He received tainted blood years back when the testing for Hep C may not have been what it was today (I don't think they even recognized Hep C yet but I am not sure). So after donating one day about a decade ago, he received the news that his blood had been rejected due to the virus being present in his blood. For the first few years after diagnosis, he remained, for the most part, symptom free. They tried a few treatments and some of it helped and others he did not tolerate well. The thing with this particular virus is that it is almost like a tug of war on the liver. The virus attacks the liver (the liver filters the crap from your blood as one of it's functions) and the liver being an amazing organ, will regenerate itself. In recent years, the virus has been winning a slow and steady race. The past nine months have been the most significant in watching his health decline. He has been very brave in this battle and accepts it with a kind of peace that can sometimes be frustrating. He is currently on the liver transplant list. He has some good days, but most are spent in some sort of pain...all days are spent with fatigue.
It is during these past few months that we have really been talking about God with him. He was raised catholic. He attended catholic school. He has gone to Mass a few times since I entered into the family but mostly for baptisms, first communions or Christmas. He does not take communion nor does he pray in the sense that is obvious to others around him. Since Christmas, he has been coming to Mass more frequently. We had a family gathering at our house over the Christmas holiday. His brother and his niece came with their families and Brother D (remember him?) and his family came. I leaned over to ask Brother D to give the blessing. Brother D gives the most awesome prayers during mealtimes. No sooner had I asked when my FIL interjected quickly that he would like to say the blessing. I know my face did not hide my shock that he wanted to say grace. As I said earlier, he has never shown outward signs of praying. My FIL's prayer was not one of the most eloquent prayers I have ever heard. It wasn't filled with quotes from scripture. It wasn't the kind of prayer that flowed like poetry. But it was the most amazing prayer I have ever heard because it was given by someone who just let us have a look inside. For that moment, he was completely vulnerable. It was an emotional prayer. It was a prayer of thanksgiving. It was a prayer of acknowledgement of why we all were there together in the first place. Needless to say, aside from the children, there was not a dry eye in the room and you could have heard a pin drop when he said Amen.
A month or so passed and Brother D called Matt up with the suggestion that we pray over FIL. Matt was all for this but told Brother D to call before they came (they live a few hours away) to make sure it would be well received by FIL. Unfortunately, FIL was not open to the laying on of hands healing prayer idea. Thanks but no thanks. I am not sure why this request was rejected. Perhaps we were all moving a bit too fast for him? Or maybe we just caught him off guard? My MIL was not thrilled with his rejection. She has been trying to get him to talk about God. Trying to speak to him about what his thoughts are on what happens to us when we die. Death is a reality for all of us as none of us are guaranteed a tomorrow...but death is something tangible in FIL's life due to his disease.
Matt and I decided that if he didn't want us to pray over him, then maybe we could just storm heaven's gates with petitions of our own. We did a novena to St. Jude with our four children. I truly believe that God especially hears the prayers of His little ones. They continue to pray for him every night... "Pwease watch over Papa and his wiver". In the meantime, FIL has been coming to Mass every now and then with us...the days he does not come it is due to not feeling well. A few weeks ago I was in a sound sleep. In the middle of the night I sat straight up in bed as the revelation came to me. What needed to be done was the work of a missionary! I was doing missionary work, only I didn't see it. I woke Matt up, who was also in a sound sleep, trying to explain to him what I just realized. I think he appreciated the story much better later that morning...after coffee. This missionary work is not the picure I had in my head. It' s not even remotely close to what I thought would be required of me. This is simply being an instrument. Sometimes that instrument needs to play loudly. Sometimes it needs to play softly. Sometimes it needs to sit in the corner and play nothing at all. Sometimes it needs to be tuned (this is done thru prayer so that I hear what it is that I am supposed to do and leave my own desires to shove religion down his throat aside). It is humbling to know that you are doing the very thing God sent you out to do....I was just so blinded by my vision of what a missionary was that I couldn't see it right in front of me.

A blessing in a simple phone call.

You ever have those moments in life where you keep dwelling on something someone said? You just can't let it go no matter how much you tell your brain to get rid of it? Today was one of those days plus a few other matters that just made my heart kind of heavy.
I have tried to get a hold of a friend to talk to her about one of these matters that she holds more expertise in. I wasn't able to until today. I walked away from the conversation feeling totally blessed and my shoulders are feeling less of the yoke. We didn't talk just about the subject matter I intended to. Our conversation naturally shifted onto other matters. She didn't say anything specific or have any problem solving tips. She just listened. Not only did she listen, she shared her experiences. It was a give and take conversation that was perfectly balanced. It was the first time in a long time I have layed myself open to be vulnerable. To give someone a glimpse inside of my life and not worry about what they would think of it. Nor was it a conversation where I don't ask a question where I know I am not going to like the answer. It is perhaps one of the most profound conversations I have had in recent times. So thank you friend, if I ever get the gumption up to share this blog with anyone.
I am always amazed at the timing of God's plan. I don't think for one moment that it was coincidental that I couldn't get a hold of her last night. God knew that I would need to hear her voice more today than I did last night. He knew exactly the medicine I would need...and that it would come in at the receiving end of a phone call.

Prayers for a special intention...

Do not want to give details on what the special intention is just yet (if at all). I received some heart breaking news about a distant family member. Prayers for full recovery and healing of spirit and mind.


Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art though among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.