Dominic's First Holy Communion

Guess what I found? (must be said in sing-song voice..) My camera cord! Where was it? Only in the place I put it! Score one for dementia!

Anyway, here are some fabulous fotos of Dominic looking handsome in his shirt and tie. The shirt and tie he swore this time last year he was not going to wear. Who always wins? Mom does. Capice?

There is a great story to tell surrounding Dom's first communion. I will tell it later. Right now, I'm gonna post a couple of pictures and get back to the tidying up I must do before I see my husband off...because I don't want his last thoughts before he goes to be...dang, this house is a mess!

I know! Isn't he handsome?

Okay, he's had it with the pictures, now. The girls posed for about 500 pictures in their dresses on their big day. Dominic is done after two. Just look at him force that smile! Straighten that tie, mister!

Here he is with his teacher, Mrs. Presley. Boy, am I going to miss her! I took this after the big event, so he was okay with one more picture...

Now, who would like to explain to me why there is a picture of the dog wearing 3-D glasses on my camera?

The Fightin' Side of Me

I took a great picture of something today, and if I could find my camera's cable, I would upload it to the blog. You, too, would then get to see something that makes smoke steam out of my ears. It grinds my gears. Frustrates me beyond belief.

It is one thing to have piles of laundry to do each day. It is my fault when I go a day or two without washing a load. Piled high laundry, my fault. HOWEVER....clean, folded laundry put back into the hamper? Now you're walking on the fighting side of big momma! I know for a fact that clothes are sometimes tried on and discarded into the hamper. That is only slightly annoying. But, FOLDED clothes found in the dirty pile? That is just lazy. Seems like a bigger effort was made to treck the clothes back to the bathroom hamper than it would have been to just open a drawer and shove the clothes in. Because that's what they do. Shove...push...cram...then close the drawer with bits of clothing poking out. Sigh.

I am in no way, shape or form a "neat freak" or "organized person". Quite the contrary, much to Mike's chagrin. (Sorry, honey. Thanks for taking the good with the bad.) But don't make my job harder, please. Thank you.

Man, I wish I had that camera cord!

I'll Make this Brief

I seem to have hit a blog wall. For some reason, I haven't blogged in a while. It isn't that there isn't a lot going on around here....

I seem to be missing my camera cord. Without it, I cannot upload pictures. That being said, I have some great pictures of Dominic's First Communion that I will post soon!

The kids are all doing well. Mary had her 12th birthday and Dominic his 8th. Clare will turn 11 this weekend. Stephen is still plugging away at freshman year, surprised at how fast the time is going. Anna gave herself a little hair cut on Easter Sunday and Maggie continues to find joy in dancing and learning. We recently enjoyed a quick visit from Mike's mom. You see? Lots going on.

We are all preparing ourselves for Mike's deployment. Tomorrow is May 1st. I love the month of May, but have been dreading it this year. I hope this year goes as fast as the last. Faster, even.

With this short post, I hope to regain some blog momentum. There are stories to tell....

A Bone to Pick

Did you ever have a person in your life that always looks at you like they have a serious bone to pick? As if they would really like to unload on you, if only they weren't so ladylike? Well, I do. She is a mom to a couple of boys that go to the same school as my kids. It is no lie; her kids are good kids. They are scouts, they participate in academic bowl and are quiet and respectful. Her oldest son and mine are the same age and are friends. Stephen is a good boy, also, but appearently not in league with "bone to pick's" boys. Whatever.

In sixth grade, Stephen, being insecure and not one to engage frontal lobes before speaking, made some off hand remarks about another boy while riding to a basketball practice with bone to pick's husband. The other kids laughed, which further encouraged my frontal lobeless son to entertain. Well, that was enough to entitle Stephen with the label of "negative, inappropriate and generally not the kind of boy" they wished their son to be friends with. Again, whatever. By the way, I didn't find this out until later.

In eighth grade, bone to pick's son and Stephen decided to do an experiment for science together. Most of the work was done at school, but the kids were encouraged to do some of the work at home together. Stephen was told by the son, "My mom said I have to do my half at home and you have to do your half at your house because she doesn't like you and you aren't allowed to come over." He was sad and near tears when he told me this. If you know me AT ALL, it may surprise you to know that I marched my mamma bear butt over to bone to pick's husband in the school parking lot to get the story straight. Surely it was Stephen blowing something out of proportion, or a misunderstanding! Nope. I was told, to my face in the parking lot, that my son was not welcome in their home and that he proved himself to be a boy they didn't approve of in sixth grade when he spoke unkindly about another boy. I tried to explain in my nervous, self deprecating way, that we have talked to Stephen a lot about that behavior and that with lots of reinforcement, we feel he has matured and understands how that behavior reflected badly on his character. See, I understand that insecure, immature young people will sometimes try to win favor of their peers by being funny and will sometimes talk crap about another person to build up their own self worth. Blah, blah, blah.... The rest of the encounter was uncomfortable and sad. I played through in my head all of the conversations I previously had with that family, the mom in particular, and tried to dissect them. What had I done wrong? Was it something I said? Am I a bad parent? How many people dislike me and my children and I don't even know it, and will I get to find out publicly in the school parking lot? Every time I saw them in conversations with other parents, I was most certain they were talking about me! I became crouching momma/hidden parishioner. For a very short time. Then I got over myself and said, "Everyone doesn't HAVE to like me". Hard.

That was a back story. Fast forward to last Sunday. There we were, in church, getting ready for mass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a family load up into the pew a couple of rows back. I turned my head to smile at them, and it was the bone to pick family. They avoided eye contact (you can just tell) and I turned back to the front. Sigh. It seemed like I could feel disapproving stares on my backside. Probably tongue clucking and head shaking, too. (Okay, I'm exaggerating, here, but I was feeling kind of paranoid.) So, on with the mass. When Father Jim began his homily, I settled in to listen. (you have to settle in....it could be a while, if you know what I mean...) He began talking about preparing yourself and examining your conscience for reconciliation. He began naming sinful behaviors that are common, such as taking pleasures in lustful activities, abusing the body with food, drugs and alcohol, judging others, and.....WAIT A MINUTE! HOLD THE PHONE!!! I sat up straighter. Judging others!? My inner dialogue went something like this. "I hope they're listening! HA! That's right, you have sinned against me! You judge me, unfairly may I add! Take stock! Confess your sins and sin no more! Take that plank out of your own eye before you remark about the splinter in mine!" Stuff like that. Then it hit me. It hit me so hard I almost cried.

I am a hypocrite. I am a sinner. I am prideful and judgemental. I was actually taking pleasure in what I had hoped was their discomfort . What did I think was happening? Did I imagine a tearful confession of guilt in the parking lot after church? In truth, they may not have even seen us, or registered our attendance at mass. Again, I say, whatever.

Luckily for me, this is the season of Lent. More than any other time in the church, we are encouraged to attend a reconciliation service or simply go to confession. We are reminded of the suffering our Savior endured for us. We are forgiven, and we must also forgive. We are reminded to not have any bones to pick, and to forgive those who have one to pick with us. This is tough stuff, and I am prayerfully trying.

Thank you for letting me vent!!!

Just My Style

I've been spending some time browsing through blogs lately. I have stopped watching tv. For the past couple of years, I have been tv free, with the exception of watching a few child aimed shows with my kids. But the days of folding laundry in front of the tube, vegging out with the tv on, watching the muted tv with music playing in the background waiting for the singing to synch up with the mouth movements...no more. I'm not bragging; I'm simply saying that there are times when a busy mom needs to unwind. I used to do it in front of the tv. Now I cruise blogs. I have a couple of friends who blog, and I love to read theirs. But I have been reading blogs written by complete strangers. I have become mesmerized; enamored, even. Some people are hateful in their blog style, some are sweet, some are too good to be true. The blogs I am drawn to are mommy blogs. Moms with lots of kids, usually. (imagine that!) But suddenly, like with the tv viewing, I'm ready to call it quits. I have gotten a little un-enamored. I'm suddenly turned off by many bloggers need to divulge their "parenting style". They made me question my style, and, since my parenting goes along the lines of my fashion and home decor, I don't much care for those lines of questioning! Oh, by the way, they also love to show you their funky fashion sense and tasteful, eclectic decorating styles as well. Who needs that pressure!

You see, I don't think I could define my "parenting style". Besides that, who really cares? I could give it a label and identifying characteristics, but that would be embarrassing. That might make it seem like I have it figured out. Not even close!

I am content to keep writing stories about our family life here, far from "home". I promise to not try to educate you on parenting styles, fashion or home decor. Who would want to read that?


MMMMMMmmm! Pie! Now THAT I have figured out!

The Dreaded Eye Roll

You just haven't lived until your fourteen year old rolls his eyes at you, stomps his foot and says (in his crackly, pubescent voice) "You are being unreasonable!".

This kid that you fed, clothed, provided shelter for, stuck up for, helped study for test after test with, went to bat for, watched numerous sporting events of, and agonized over every parenting descision for...this kid.

I am frustrated! I am overwhelmed! I want to throw in the towel! I want to let him have his way so he'll like me again! But, I also want to make him pay. I'll show you unreasonable! Roll your eyes at me, will you! I gave you those eyes, buddy...maybe I'll take them back!

I am calmer now, having gotten that out of my system. Now I need to go make up a chore chart with lots and lots of things to do on it. Lots and lots. And lots.

Googie Girl

About twenty posts ago, I started to dedicate a blog to one particular child at a time. Though these posts are always about the kids, I wanted to give each one a spotlight for their own post. We started with the youngest, Anna, then Dominic had his turn. Now it is Maggie's turn. Maggie Maggoo. Googie Girl.

Here is something everyone should know about Maggie: from the time she was about three months old until she was eighteen months old, we were afraid Maggie would never walk. And if she did walk, we were unsure if she would do so without a walker. Here is something else everyone should know about Maggie: she is extremely hard headed. In fact, that hard head of hers is why she can walk. (and run and dance and do every normal thing a girl does) Well, that and lots of physical therapy. The girl is extremely determined and can do anything she puts her mind to doing.

So, Maggie is nine. She takes seven hours of dance a week and is on a competitive dance team. She played softball for two seasons, but it cramped her dance time schedule, so she dropped it. She has broken an arm (at dance) and still is pretty daring with those crazy tumbling moves. She is a fast runner. She is very smart. She has a whole lot of energy and many friends. She is an awesome big sister and an appropriately pesky little sister. There are so many things about Maggie that I could fill a book with them. But my favorite thing about Maggie...she has a mouth made for Honeycomb! (she said that!) I love how she likes to be silly in pictures. She has a fun sense of humor.

Maggie is very sensitive. She is easily hurt and feels empathy for those around her. I think she will grow up to be a very loving, warm woman who is hard headed and determined. But for now, we'll keep on enjoying our Maggie Magoo just as she is!

SILLY!!!!!