Super Sauerkraut

I am a sauerkraut junkie. When I used to work in the Bingo Kitchen, during Big Brother's early school days, they served homemade sauerkraut with the hot dogs. One of the callers used to buy a sauerkraut sandwich. My curiosity got the better of me, and I had to try it too.

Heavenly!

Now, this is just not as good with sauerkraut right out of the can. You have to prepare it right. And right now I've got a roaster oven full of sauerkraut happily simmering and waiting for dinnertime. It smells great in here, if you ask me. Just don't ask my kids.

Easy Polish-Style Sauerkraut
2 2-lb bags of sauerkraut, with most of the liquid squeezed out of them (do not wash)
2 onions, chopped (not too small)
1/4 lb cooked bacon, crumbled

Place all in roaster oven or slow cooker (6 qt holds this with room to spare). Cook for at least 2 hours on 200 (for roaster) or LOW (for slow cooker). Stir occasionally, and taste every time, because you won't be able to help yourself.

Goes great with kielbasa, hot dogs, Reuben sandwiches, or all by itself on a roll. Anyone want to come over and help me eat it? Nobody else in my house likes it. Good thing it freezes well....

Prayers for the Crazy Bikers

I am freaking out over these flood reports I've watched on the news, and now I'm glued to the Web with my giant RandMcNally map in my lap.

Tomorrow my dad's bike route takes him across a portion of the Susquehanna River that is expected to be about 4 feet above flood stage by late afternoon tomorrow. I just called my mom so that she can let him know when he calls her tonight, that I'm willing to drive to "wherever" in Pennsylvania and get him and his crazy friends to someplace dry where they can bike. I've got a map and a full tank of gas, and I don't mind using them. There's a good chance he won't be able to cross the Delaware on Friday if they don't reopen the Frenchtown bridge (it's closed now).

Patron Saints of Travelers include St. Anthony of Padua, St. Joseph, St. Nicholas, and the Archangel Raphael. Please pray for a safe trip for them, and that they don't let their pride get in the way of their safety.

UPDATE: So far so good on Thursday. They crossed the Susquehanna with no problem and reached their expected destination for tonight. There's still a good shot that the Delaware River bridge he wanted to cross will be closed--but it's a short (1 hour) drive for me if they need a ride tomorrow. Thank you very much....I'm breathing a BIG sigh of relief.

Works-for-Me Wednesday: Waiting Games

Brought to you by


In the past week I've had to take my kids on several errands that involve Waiting (haircuts, doctor apppointments, oil change for the Momobile). Since the Big Kids can read, they're pretty good about waiting for reasonable spans of time. But Little Brother is only 4 and he can get itchy pretty fast.

So, without further ado, here are SFO Mom's Top Three Waiting Games:
1. "I Spy" is a hit with all ages and can be played anywhere.
2. "I Spy in a Magazine" can keep Little Brother busy for quite a while. I like to use a parenting magazine for this, since there are plenty of pictures of animals, toys, children, food and cars in those. Then I sit there with Little Brother and ask him to find the fish, or the soccer ball, or the red car.
3. At a doctor's office, bring a small pack of crayons. My pediatricians don't mind when the kids draw on the paper on the examining table. It's put in the trash after we leave the room anyway. BONUS: it gives the pediatrician something to chat with the child about during the examination.

I hope these Waiting Games work for you--they work for me!

One for Good Luck

This morning Little Brother gave me a Big Hug. He told me, "I'm giving you a HUG! For good luck!"

Good luck in what, I don't know. But I'll take it!

Ewwwww....

Apparently now the latest trend in "teenwear" is an expensive item of clothing that looks like it's destined either for the washing machine or the rag pile--but no, you buy it that way!

I'm not letting my kids see this article. As it is, I have to pry away their torn/stained clothing from their clutching little fingers, and HIDE it in the trash. I have to HIDE their outgrown things so I can pass them along/save them for the next younger child. I have to fight with them to put on a clean, non-ripped shirt before we leave the house. And now people are buying clothes with purposely-set-in underarm stains?

(It's satire, but the idea still grosses me out.)

Wisdom from Today's Saint

The Saint we celebrate today is St. Josemaria Escriva. In a quick Internet search, I found a great many wonderful, thought-provoking quotes attributed to him. Here's one that reaches to the heart of what I aim toward as a Franciscan striving to live that life in the world of my home, family and community:
I assure you, my children, that when a Christian carries out with love the most insignificant everyday action, that action overflows with the transcendence of God. That is why I have told you so often, and hammered away at it, that the Christian vocation consists in making heroic verse out of the prose of each day. Heaven and earth seem to merge, my children, on the horizon. But where they really meet is in your hearts, when you sanctify your everyday lives.

And another: ‘Great’ holiness consists in carrying out the ‘little’ duties of each moment.

As Jean at Catholic Fire points out in her chronology of his life, he viewed his mission as opening "a new path to holiness through sanctification of work in the midst of the world."

Learn more about him through his writings at this site.

How to Tell When the Choir is Doing a Good Job

I've been playing with a folk choir these past couple of months, and because of the style of the church, I can see nearly everyone in the assembly from where the choir stands. The people in this parish really make an effort to sing, which is a good thing--I even saw the altar servers singing the psalm response and the acclamations.

But you really know that the choir is doing its job of Leading the Assembly in Praising the Lord when you look at the people during the "Alleluia"--and many of them are singing their hearts out, with smiles on their faces.

Book Bleg

I found out today that Big Brother has a Summer Reading List for 3 classes: English (which I expected), History and Religion. The last one is quite problematic for me. Not that he has to read something, but what he has to read.

For Religion, all freshmen are expected to read do a basic book report (characters, setting, conflict, resolution) on the novel Joshua by Joseph Girzone. (The other books he has to read are Agatha Christie novels and The Hound of the Baskervilles--no problems there).

My husband and I are more than a little concerned about the fact that a Catholic high school is requiring this novel, which, if I remember correctly (and I just started rereading it to make sure I have my opinions straight here) makes out Church authorities to be overly concerned with rules and laws, and basically puts down the need for rules altogether.

Maybe I should purchase Big Brother a copy of The Screwtape Letters when I buy those other books on his reading list, just to balance out this one.

If anyone has any good information I can use when discussing this book with my child--and whether or not I should make an issue of it with the school--I'd appreciate it. My inclination right now is to see what they do with it. It may be that the book is read, assignment done, and the teacher never talks about it again. And then again...

I will be paying attention, make no mistake about it.

Three Crazy Guys on Bicycles

Today my dad and two of his friends will be driving from northern New Jersey to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania for the start of their vacation.

They'll spend the rest of the week coming back--on bicycles.

Here's a rough outline of their route:


Unfortunately, their route takes them far enough north of my home that I won't be able to host them for dinner, like we did last year.

But if you see three crazy men on bicycles along the southern tier of Pennsylvania, share the road, give them a wave, and pray for their safety. And remind my dad to keep that water bottle full, OK?

Thanks.

A Little Nugget from my SFO Fraternity Meeting

My SFO Fraternity met tonight. It was a productive evening; we got together our slate for next month's elections (if you're so inclined, please pray that we will all let the Lord guide us in the right direction as we cast our votes for our Council), and our Ongoing Formation was on the topic of Humility.

After that, our Spiritual Assistant led a lively discussion that covered quite a few topics, including but not limited to Humility, Service, pastoral leadership, sacrifice, The DaVinci Code, and stories from the life of St. Francis.

The Spiritual Assistant of a SFO fraternity is traditionally a Franciscan priest, and we are blessed to have one in our midst. And one thing I have noticed before, but that really came out in the discussion tonight, is that Father is not afraid to talk about the Devil. Some priests tiptoe around the subject. Not this priest, and I'm glad of that. He wants us to know that the Evil One is real, he is out there, and he is trying very hard to stop us from doing what is right and good.

He also wants us to know that we do not have power over the Devil, all by ourselves. Because the Devil is a preternatural being with the wisdom of the ages, we must recognize that his power does exist and that we must enlist the help of those More Powerful Than The Devil:
The Blessed Mother
Saint Michael the Archangel
Our Guardian Angels
and, of course, God.

Because God doesn't expect us to do it alone. We have been given the gift of these others to help us on our path. So, to use the favorite closing line of our Spiritual Assistant: "While we have time, let us do good."

Let's Go Live

...because that's where the love is.



Today is the Feast of the Sacred Heart. If you scroll down on this Catholic Culture page, you will see that devotion to the Sacred Heart was important to the early Franciscans, in the beautiful passage from Saint Bonaventure's writings.

Thanks again to Dan at Faithmouse for a beautiful toon expressing the spirit of this day.

Worth the Read

Father Jim at Dappled Things has an essay on what to do when you "don't feel spiritual." He suggests that you don't have to feel spiritual to be spiritual. But whether you "feel spiritual" or not, these are good reminders.

And over at Summa Mamas there's a terrific short piece on procrastination. Read it now!

The Latest in Home Decor

Dilemma: You have a lovely pair of crystal candlesticks but no candles to put in them.

Solution (provided by my children just before dinnertime last night):


As you can see, Martha Stewart doesn't live here.
Big Brother says, "That's a Good Thing."

Landscaping

My neighbor has a landscaper. These guys are pros. They come in with their 3 giant mowers, miscellaneous blowers, weed wackers and other noisy power equipment before 8 AM. (These are not big yards, so 3 giant mowers seems a bit excessive.)

We have Big Brother. He doesn't willingly get up that early anyway, and he is not yet cleared by Daddy to use the weed wacker or edger. He just mows.

He's not a pro. A lot of times he misses spots, he forgets to sweep the sidewalk after he's done, and the edge by the fence is always a mess.

Last week I was ranting and raving because my neighbor's landscaper was using noisy power equipment before 8 AM. I know they work in the heat and want to be done early. But it's kind of early to be that noisy.

Today I'm not going to complain, because just now when I was at the kitchen sink filling the coffeepot, I noticed that the neighbor's landscaper had hopped the fence and was edging along the fence in our yard.

Middle Sister was wondering how he got in the yard. I said, "I guess he climbed the fence. Kind of dangerous with a weed wacker, though!"

Middle Sister answered, "He did climb the fence! He just went back. He turned off the weed wacker first."

That's a good thing. Wouldn't want him to hurt himself, especially since he was doing Big Brother a BIG favor.

Outstanding

Middle Sister just wandered over to show off her "manicure." (She's enjoying the reprieve from the no-nail-polish-per-the-school-dress-code rule).

She didn't do a bad job, but you could use those nails to land planes, the color is so bright. I will have to speak to my cousin, who donated the nail polish to Middle Sister's cause.

Middle Sister: "Like my naaaaaaaails?"

Me: "You did a nice job on the polish. It's not my favorite color, though."

MS: "Why not?"

Me: "It's too bright. I like colors a little paler on nails."

MS, as she sweeps out of the room as only a 10-year-old in a robe can: "I like it. It makes me stand OUT."

That's the big difference between me and my daughter. She loves to stand out. She's not shy. She likes to be noticed. (With nails like hers, there's little chance she won't get noticed.)

My challenge is to make sure that she stands out for the right reasons.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Vinegar Rinse

Brought to you by


Today's tip is one I've been using for almost a year now: the Vinegar Rinse.

No, not for my hair (though I've heard it's good for that purpose too)--for my LAUNDRY.

Instead of adding some Downy or Snuggle to the handy-dandy little fabric-softener dispenser in my washing mashine, I put in about 1/4 cup white vinegar and fill the dispenser the rest of the way with cold water.

The vinegar works really well at getting the extra soap out of the clothes and even softens them. BONUS: unlike fabric softener, the Vinegar Rinse doesn't cause your towels to be less absorbent. BIGGER BONUS: Vinegar costs less than $2 a gallon. Fabric softener costs more than $5 a gallon. A gallon of vinegar lasts twice as long as a gallon of fabric softener, so I save $8 with each gallon of vinegar I use.

I hang a good deal of laundry on my outdoor clothesline when the weather permits, and the clothes are soft enough to satisfy everyone in the family. When I do put something in the dryer, I add about 1/3 of a dryer sheet, because static cling is not something the vinegar takes care of well.

With only 1/4 cup vinegar per load, my clothing does not smell like salad. Since I'm fragrance-sensitive, it doesn't bother me that they don't smell "April Fresh." I like the scent of air-dried clothing without the extra perfume anyway.

Last week some readers asked me to post a pic on my blog. I know you were really after what SFO Mom looks like in goggles, but you're not going to get that one. Sorry. (No, I'm not, actually...) This will have to suffice. Here I am in my Outdoor Laundry Room.


Vinegar Rinse in the laundry works for me.

What My Bumper Sticker SHOULD Say?

Your Bumper Sticker Should Be

Give me ambiguity - or give me something else

What Bumper Sticker Should Be On Your Car?

AllRIGHTY then!

Via Mrs_Who.

All This Time, I Thought It Was Just a Parent Thing

"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

Portiuncula has this quote from Saint Francis:
And all the brothers are to guard against speaking falsely of anyone
and are to avoid verbal disputes. Rather, let them seek to keep silent
whenever God gives them the grace to do so. And they are not to argue
among themselves, nor with others, but they are to strive to respond
with humility, saying, "We are useless servants." (Luke 17:10)
Rule of 1221, Chapter XI

Who knew that this bit of wise counsel came from Saint Francis? I thought it was just something parents said to keep their kids from squabbling!

A 4-Year-Old's Compassion

Little Brother is turning out to be just as sweet as Middle Sister when someone is sick. When she was 3 or 4, and someone wasn't feeling good, she'd practically bury them beneath all her special stuffed animals and blankets. As she got older she appointed herself Chief Temperature Taker and Drink Fetcher. Everyone always says that she'd make a good nurse when she grows up.

Yesterday and today Little Brother has been very solicitous about my health. He'll come over and announce,
"I'm gonna give you a hug and a kiss!" After that, he'd ask, "Did that feel you better?"

This morning he rediscovered his Very First Stuffed Animal: a dragon that has a music box in it, that plays "London Bridge." I told him how he used to like listening to that music when he was a very little baby. Then he pulled the string to start the music, put the dragon in my lap, hugged me and told me that it would "feel me better." And, of course, it did.

An Open Letter to Woman's Day Magazine

I wanted to write and let you know why I have decided to let my subscription, which ends this August, run out rather than renewing your magazine, to which I have been a longtime subscriber and reader. In fact, I've read the magazine since I was about 10 years old, because my mother is also a longtime subscriber and reader. Now I have a daughter who is 10 years old, but I do not feel that I can leave your magazine on my coffee table for her to browse through.

Recently I have noticed some changes in the tone and substance of Woman's Day, changes that, in my opinion, are not for the better. I don't appreciate the "celebrity" articles, for example. If I wanted to read about how Nicole Kidman decorates her kitchen or raises her children, I'll read People or Good Housekeeping or Redbook. I always respected your magazine for steering clear of the celebrity subject and focusing more on people whose lives are lived farther away from the red-carpet lifestyle.

Your May 9, 2006 issue contained a section on "Your Reproductive Health." I found the information contained in the article to be both biased and incomplete. For example, for 2 of the 4 cancers profiled (uterine and ovarian) you recommend that a woman use Birth Control Pills as a preventative measure. You do not mention that the use of Birth Control Pills has been implicated in the increase in breast cancer that has been recorded in the past 30 years. You also fail to mention the abortion-breast cancer connection, which has been the subject of many studies lately.

Worse, you have a quote by Dr. Douglas Laube, chair of the ACOG, in large type and circled in pink at the top of a page, expressing his wish that women "had an increased awareness of and access to emergency contraception (EC). EC is one of the best-kept secrets in medicine today; it's sad that more women either don't know about it or can't get it." Highlighting an opinion such as this in the way that you have indicates to me that your magazine is taking a direction that I choose not to follow.

As a Roman Catholic wife and mother, I do not believe that women should be fed Birth Control Pills as a means of fighting off cancer. Birth Control Pills have an abortifacient effect, changing the uterine lining so that it will not accept the implantation of an already-fertilized egg. In this respect, they act in the same way that EC does. They kill an innocent baby.

I will not subscribe to a magazine that highlights the use of artificial hormones for the purposes of taking innocent life. The celebrity-lifestyle articles are something I could flip past and ignore, but your pieces on "reproductive health" are actually more along the lines of "reproductive selfishness" and I do not wish to bring such articles into my home. I deserve better and so does my daughter.

It's Father's Day

and instead of having a nice big breakfast made for him by his loving family, Daddy is making me a cup of tea. By all appearances, I have strep throat. So I am not allowed near the stove to make him some pancakes and sausage. The poor guy has to do that himself. He's not complaining, though; he's nagging me about what medicine I have already taken and what I should take some more of if I can manage to swallow another pill.

This was supposed to be his day to sit in the recliner (if we had a recliner, which we don't) and read his paper and relax.

But he's a great dad a great husband and he's letting me relax instead, and even making me some tea.

Christine has a great roundup on posts for Father's Day; check them out. Also, look at what Barbara Curtis has to say. Whatever I had to say is going to have to wait.

Passing the Time

Daddy's plane landed 1 1/2 hours ago, so he should be home by now. Everyone is waiting anxiously to show him his surprise. Each time a car passes the house, someone in here is peeking out the window.

Middle Sister has decided to use the time more productively: "Might as well practice The Worm while I wait."

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

I think today I'll be needing some chocolate for breakfast.

I've been up for no longer than 1 hour and 15 minutes.

When I took my shower, the water kept changing temperature because the powder room toilet decided to run on and off, on and off, the entire time. (I can't figure out how to fix it)

When I went to make the coffee, the little spring that tells the coffeemaker whether there is a coffeepot under the filter pan to pour coffee into, fell off and rolled under the refrigerator. (I did manage to retrieve, wash, and repair it; coffee's brewing now).

Little Brother wet his bed.

After I washed and dressed him and stripped his bed I brought the wet things to the laundry. Middle Sister had put something large on the dryer last night. When I moved it, I knocked the dryer-vent tube loose. (I'm not sure I have it on quite tight enough).

Definitely, chocolate for breakfast. What would be more nutritious--Snickers or Almond Joy?

Why is it

that when my husband is away, I get this uncontrollable urge to move furniture?

Luckily for me (and my back) the kids enjoy the adventure of rearranging a room (or several) and will even help. Couldn't have done it without them. And won't Daddy be surprised when he gets home?

How Far Will the Food Police Go?

Yesterday it was all over the local news that Kentucky Fried Chicken food has a lot of fat in it--way more than what's good for you, according to the Center for Science in the Public Interest.

Somebody paid good money (probably my money and your money) to conduct a study to figure this out. I could have told them that just based on the number of napkins one must use when consuming a 3-Piece Extra Crispy Value Meal with Biscuit, Potatoes and Gravy.

So, yeah. Fast food has a lot of fat in it. (It has a lot of salt too, but they didn't study that. They'll probably wait and waste my money and your money on that another time.) It has more fat than what's good for you.

But nobody is forcing that fast food down your throat. People who eat fast food make the choice to eat fast food. They could get a salad but they don't. They could cook at home but they don't. (And yes, sometimes I eat fast food. And sometimes I get fast food for my family. I don't think that occasional fast-food consumption is going to kill us.)

This all makes me wonder, though--how far is the government going to take this? There are lawsuits pending against companies for putting too much fat in their foods. And I agree with Yum! Brands (parent company of Kentucky Fried Chicken) that such lawsuits are frivolous. They make the food. They sell the food. They do not put a gun to their customers' heads and make them eat the food. Unless they blatantly lie in their advertising, saying that food with more fat in a single meal than an adult needs in a week is Good For You, or unless their kitchens are filthy and therefore unsafe, then they can prepare their food in whatever manner they want. It's their ingredients, their recipe, their product.

What I fear is that with the thinking that one can sue over, and legislate, menus in restaurants over the amount of a certain ingredient that is put in a food that people CHOOSE TO BUY AND EAT, will come decisions by the health-care industry that they will deny care to people who CHOOSE to do things that are bad for them. Patients will be screened before treatment. Heavy drinker? Smoker? Eater-of-stuff-that's-bad-for-you? Sorry. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but you did it anyway. Can't help you out. Pregnant, and in need of prenatal care? Too bad...you should have used birth control. You're on your own. Injured in a motorcycle accident? Can't operate on you; you chose not to wear a helmet. You're too stupid to deserve our care.

Is that where we're going with this? Will parents of Downs Syndrome babies be denied proper care for those children, because they didn't choose to abort?

A future in which decisions for a person's health care are directly related to that person's choices (good, bad or otherwise) does not seem that far away to me. It does, however, seem very scary.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Onions

A Roundabout of Tried-and-True Tips of All Kinds, brought to you by


I'm a Complete And Total Wimp when it comes to chopping onions. I cook with them at least three times a week, but it's always been a struggle to chop them. I wind up in tears and unable to see the onions or the knife--never a good thing.

Last week in preparation for our very large party, I had about 7 pounds of onions to slice, dice and chop for various dishes. I looked around on the Web for some ideas on "no-more-tears" onion slicing.

I couldn't envision myself managing to slice onions underwater (one suggestion) but I did find a tip I could use: Wear swim goggles when slicing onions.

I'm a glasses wearer, but I found I could see well enough to use the knife. Certainly I could see better than when tears are running out of my eyes and pooling up behind my glasses.

It looked pretty weird, but wearing swim goggles when slicing onions works for me!

Two Images for Today

I found some great images of Saint Anthony of Padua on different blogs today. Very different images, but both very special in their own way.

At A Peek into Insanity, we see:


I love the devotion you can see in the eyes of both figures in this image.

Faithmouse has a very clever tribute to Saint Anthony today also:


Cool pun on the "Doctor of the Church" title! But it's not done in a mocking way, but rather in a way that honors Saint Anthony's concern for the health of the Church.

Hat tip to both these bloggers for the images.

A New Twist

I can't begin to count how many times I've told the kids not to play ball in the house.

"Mom always said, don't play ball in the house."

But until today, the indoor ballplaying had been restricted to throwing balls. Little Brother, who marches to the beat of a different drummer, put a new spin on the forbidden activity. He was caught at the top of the kitchen stairs, wiffle-ball bat and Talking Phillies Kind-of-Soft Baseball in hand, ready for the first pitch.

A Postmortem of a Very Weird Sort

Big Brother has returned to school nearly every day since graduation. He was asked by the staff to help the teachers box up, clean out, take down and throw out the contents of the classrooms, along with a few other graduates.

So there's a big dumpster right outside the front door, next to the flagpole. Apparently the boys have been (with adult permission) tossing stuff out second-floor windows into the dumpster. The teachers on the third floor refused to let them throw things from that height, however. Definitely a wise move on their part.

Basically it's been a kind of macabre garage sale. The kids helping out the teachers have found all sorts of interesting things in the storage areas, and they're told that they can keep some of it, or throw it out. He's gotten a radio, a small disco ball, a fox puppet, a set of Bible videos, some sport bottles, an old but functioning labelmaker, a volleyball and a package of math manipulatives.

It occurred to me this morning another way in which the loss of the school will be a loss to the parish. The school has provided a steady supply of Altar Servers to the church. The children served at daily Mass during summer vacation as well as during the school year. They were well-trained and reverent. The adults who attended daily Mass appreciated the presence of the young servers, and I believe that the servers benefited not only from attending daily Mass--even if it was only for a week at a time, here and there--but from the example and dedication of the adults who attended. The blessing of that contact between young and older Catholics will, I think, be missed by all of them.

And the sight of the dumpster in front of the school, next to the flagpole where the children used to line up each morning...that is something I hoped I would never see. I hate to drive up to the school and be confronted by it. All that tradition, all that dedication, all that hard work--into the dumpster.

Saint Anthony, pray for us

Tomorrow, June 13, is the Feast of Saint Anthony of Padua. He's probably one of The Most Famous and Popular saints out there, and what's really interesting is that even though so many people know of him, I'd bet that very few know too much about him.

First of all, Saint Anthony wasn't from Padua. He wasn't even Italian--he was Portuguese! And his whole life story, which is fascinating, involves one situation after another when he set out with a goal in mind and wound up doing something, or being somewhere, completely different. He set out to become an Augustinian friar, but became a Franciscan after encountering some at his monastery. He hoped to become a martyr after preaching the Word of God to the Moors, in the manner of the first Franciscans he met. Always he was willing to listen for the will of God in his life; he was always ready to change his course to follow where the Lord was leading. Saint Anthony was a model of obedience; the word obey comes from the root "to hear" and this is exactly what he did. He heard the voice of God and followed it.

He was famous for preaching, and for his scholarship in Scripture and theology. There is a story that when Anthony discovered once that he was preaching to people who refused to accept God's truth, he turned around, faced the water and preached to the fish instead. Because the Child Jesus miraculously appeared to Anthony, he is often pictured in art holding the Baby Jesus, as well as a Bible and a lily (for purity).

Growing up, I was surrounded by family members who held great devotion to Saint Anthony. Because I was nurtured in a Franciscan environment (school, parish and an uncle who's a Franciscan priest) there were lots of opportunities to participate in this devotion through the Tuesday novenas to Saint Anthony. As a child I looked forward to the little breads that were given to novena attendees, in commemoration of Saint Anthony's practice of feeding the poor. One of the prayers that is part of the novena ritual is taken from Saint Anthony's sermons:

Bind us to you and to our neighbor with love.
May our hearts not be turned away from you.
May our souls not be deceived, nor our talents or minds enticed by allurements of error, so that we may never distance ourselves from your love.
Thus may we love our neighbor as ourselves with strength, wisdom and gentleness.
With your help, you who are blessed throughout all ages. Amen.

There's a lot more to Saint Anthony than the whole "finder of all lost things" title that has been conferred upon him by centuries of tradition. A few years ago I read a book called "A Rich Young Man" by John Beahn (which apparently is out of print); it was excellent. The most important thing that I took away from this book was that when presented with the choice: "My Way or God's Way?", Saint Anthony chose God's Way.

Pray for us, Saint Anthony, that we too will be willing and courageous enough to listen for and follow God's will in our lives.

Obviously, he has the wrong skill set for this job

Little Brother just asked Big Brother, "Can you help me get my army guys out?"

Big Brother answered, "You can do it!"

Little Brother's response was, "No I can't! With all my skills, I can't. You can."

Since when did a 4-year-old start throwing around H-R terms? I'm noticing that he did manage to marshal the skills necessary to get his tank, fort and army guys and begin setting up a battle.

Sleep! Who Needs It?

Me, that's who! But I'm not getting any sleep tonight.

I fell asleep just fine, thank you, after cleaning up from Big Brother's Big Honkin' Graduation Party and Moon Bounce Jamboree. A good time was had by all. A good meal was had by all, too. At least I hope so! I cooked so much food; if you left here hungry it was not my fault.

The Boy Scouts are camping at a local lake this weekend, and they called Big Brother to ask if he'd come to camp after the party, so he could play Laser Tag with them. He'll never say no to that. They're probably all still up playing Laser Tag.

Little Brother was a Super Cranky, Whiny Boy all day yesterday. He didn't even feel like singing his new favorite song for my mom, and he loves to sing for her. In case you wanted to know, the title is "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep, Have You Any More?" Around midnight we found out why he was so cranky--he's got a fever. Poor guy.

And Middle Sister was disappointed that after the party was over I did not feel like watching a movie until all hours of the night. I may as well have, for all the sleep I'm getting now.

In less than 3 hours I have to wake up Daddy so he can fly to Boston to participate in Tech-Ed (what I refer to as "The Geek Convention.") He'll get to spend 6 days talking about programming with people who actually understand him! That almost never happens at home. Wonder what I should ask him to bring back--besides the usual bag full of freebie pens with computer-company logos and the occasional T-shirt. One year it was in New Orleans and he got me some Cafe du Monde coffee. But Boston--hmmm....baked beans don't travel well and neither does clam chowder.

I had a Father's Day gift all wrapped ready to give my dad, but I forgot, while he was here. Sorry, Dad. You'll just have to wait. And it's a Really Cool Gift, too!

Waiting in Line at the Bank Drive-Thru

We've all done that. I do it at least once a week.

But yesterday I did something I've never done before.

I waited in line at the bank drive-thru...behind a pedestrian.

What to do when a storm approaches

1. Ask Mom to check the radar on Weatherbug and see how far away the storm is.

2. Notice how hard the wind is blowing.

3. Run outside to see exactly how hard the wind is blowing.

4. Run back inside and find a piece of paper.

5. Make a paper airplane.

6. Go back out and fly the airplane in the next big wind gust.

7. Repeat until the rain starts and the plane gets wet.

Brought to you by the Big and Little Brother Department of Fun and Amusement

Another APB

Little Brother has been playing "Hide from Mommy" today. He thinks it's funny. I do not. After the first episode this morning, he received his first lecture about "answer me when I call you."

Just as Big Brother finished mowing the lawn, I noticed that the sound of Little Brother's chatter was not part of the background noise. Middle Sister was watching TV, and we both started looking for Little Brother. She checked outside; I checked all the rooms of the house. She was dialing the phone to ask the neighbors if he'd left the building without "checking out" and gone to visit their puppy when I found him. Under a very heavy afghan, with a contraband Game Boy.

Video games are reserved for after dinner around here. But Little Brother's privileges have been suspended until further notice. I'm in the kitchen chopping vegetables, so I assigned Middle Sister to take Little Brother outside to play, and keep an eye on him.

So she started a game of Hide and Seek.

At my age, it can't be an Amber Alert

But I think we should put out an APB anyway.

Screaming Meemie Nutty Party Mom is missing.

Tomorrow we are having a whole lot of party--almost 100 family members and friends--to celebrate Big Brother's graduation. This is what happens when you have a large extended family!

Normally by this stage of the game I am a complete wreck. I go around, spinning my wheels, micromanaging everyone else and, well, you get the idea. It's like a cross between the White Tornado and a drill sergeant. It's not pleasant. By the time the party comes around, nobody wants to.

This year, I think my husband is wondering if we've got one of those "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" things going. The poor guy is probably waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eventually I'm going to have to lose it.

I certainly can't figure out why it is that this time I am keeping it together. I'm cooking for more people than I've ever cooked for--with some help from my terrific neighbors. But I just keep looking around, checking my list, and thinking, "I'm OK."

On the other hand, let's cancel that Amber Alert. I don't want Screaming Meemie Nutty Party Mom back, and I'm sure my family doesn't either. I prefer the gift I've been given, thank you. Because it has to be a gift. There's just no other explanation.

Culture of Life Quote of the Day

Jean at Catholic Fire has this posted and I hope she doesn't mind that I post it here as well--because we all need to pay attention to this one:

Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace of the world.

~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Works-for-Me Wednesday: Bread Box

Brought to you by


I don't own a breadbox. And with a 10X11 kitchen that contains a table for 4 (obviously we don't eat our meals there anymore) plus the usual cabinets and appliances, I don't have space for a breadbox.

What I do own is a Nesco roaster. OK, I own several, but only one big enoug for this job. It's so big that the only place I can store it is on top of the dry sink in my dining room--but it looks kind of "retro" so I can go with it. When I'm not using it as a mini-oven or very large soup tureen, I have a black wire basket inside it, full of bread, English muffins, and burger buns. When I need to use the roaster it's easy to just take out the basket of bread and relocate it for a short while. The bread stays just as fresh as it would in a breadbox, I'm using what would otherwise be "dead space" and I don't lose my precious countertop inches.

Works for me!

I Like Wednesdays

...because it means I get to stock up on great tips from the Works for Me Wednesday crew.

Tune in tomorrow for mine. When I think of one.

But I wanted to link to The Most Super Tip that I happened upon last week: the Dinner Dice.

Basically you use a cube (cardboard, wood, whatever) and write a chore on each side. Mine read:
Say Grace
Set Table
Wipe Table
Fridge Filler (put away butter, grated cheese, whatever!)
Dish Helper
Floor Sweeper

All of these chores can in some way be done by my children at the ages they are. Of course, Little Brother needs more help in some departments, but he's very good at helping out. And I think it's good for the kids to learn that the butter does not magically leave the table, jump to the kitchen and hide itself in the butter compartment of the fridge when they are not looking.

So, before dinner they all get to roll the dice. Tonight Little Brother got Daddy to roll the dice too. Guess what! Daddy got "Dish Helper!" Was I lucky or what?!

Capillary Action in Action

Big Brother was given a carnation at graduation last night; all the students got one, to give to their mothers. I couldn't find a bud vase too readily so I put it in a tall iced tea glass.

After dinner Middle Sister announced that she knew how to make the flower turn color. I let her put several drops of food coloring in the water. She instructed us to wait overnight and we'd see the change.

Little Brother was intrigued by the tall glass containing bright green water and a white flower.

LB: "Why is the water green?"
Me: "Middle Sister wants the flower to drink the green water and turn green."

This fascinated Little Brother, so much so that I needed to add, "You may NOT drink the green water."

SFO Mom Gets to Brag

Last night Big Brother graduated from 8th grade. And he did us proud.
He received several awards:
The Altar Rosary Society Service Award (given to all graduating Altar Servers)
The American Legion Award for courage, scholarship, etc....it almost sounded like a recitation of Boy Scout qualities--but he is a Boy Scout, so it fits.
The award for the highest grade in History (his favorite subject)
The award for the highest grade in Religion, given by the Catholic Daughters
The General Excellence Award (given to the two students with the highest grade-point averages in the class)

All this, despite the fact that almost every day, when asked if he had homework, the answer was, "I did it in Science."
Great job, Big Brother!

I'm Charging Up My Camera Battery

Tomorrow Big Brother graduates from 8th grade.

I received an email this morning from the Music Director asking me if I'd like to help accompany and sing at the Graduation Mass. Middle Sister will be an Altar Server. We will be a busy bunch but that makes the occasion more special, I think.

I haven't played in that church since it was announced that the school would close. It's going to be hard--because I think the pastor is going to be there, and I have not come to terms with our differences regarding the way the school closing was handled, and my feelings of betrayal over it. So I guess I'd better pick a dress with pockets, because along with my camera I'm going to need to carry some tissues.

I'll be smiling too, though, because I am very proud of Big Brother (despite his apparent lack of table manners) and all he has achieved. I'm looking forward to his entering high school in the fall, where he will study German--because he wants to--and where he will be challenged in some Honors classes.

So I will pour that pride into every chord I play, every lyric I sing. I will try to forget about the bad stuff, even when a physical reminder is right there in front of me. I will try to just celebrate the moment, and send off the 8th grade on a happy note. The Recessional Hymn is "Lead Me, Lord." Amen to that.

More Things I Never Thought I'd Need to Say

At Middle Sister's keyboard recital tonight: "Don't braid your earrings."

The mom across the table just stared at me for a second--and then we both lost it.

A Sentence that Strikes Fear in a Mother's Heart

"Betcha I can do 21," Big Brother bragged through a mouthful of 14 grapes.

Would you like a side of Heimlich with your grapes?

A Model for All of Us

I remember that when I was recently out of college, I participated in a focus group to critique a draft of the US Bishops' Pastoral Letter on Women. My "liberal" arts education just completed, I was not in much of a position to be receptive to much of the content of the letter. I think I was more receptive to the Gevalia coffee served by the hostess of the meetings than anything else!

What I remember most about the content of the draft I viewed was the position that could be distilled as follows: "Men can follow Jesus, but women can be like Mary." Oh no no no! Be the "handmaid" of the Lord? I don't think so. I was raised and educated in the 1970's and 80's. We're nobody's "handmaids" any more.

Both my grandmothers had a great devotion to the Blessed Mother. Both of them prayed the Rosary daily. One of my grandmothers had a picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in her kitchen. And I think they knew something that I didn't understand until much later.

There is no disgrace in being like Mary. Actually, it's a high goal to stive for. And since my vocation now is "wife, mother and Secular Franciscan," how can I strive for anything else?

This morning I read a fascinating treatment of this idea. Here's one part (but do read the rest!):
the idea of identifying ourselves with Mary, modeling ourselves on her,
is an old one. Christ Himself invites all of us – male or female - to
be His mother. He says “My mother and my brothers are those who hear
the word of God and keep it,”(Luke 8:21) and no one heard the Word of
God and kept it in quite the way she did.

Via Ramblings of a GOP Soccer Mom.

Spooky.

I took this "Find Your Mothering Style" quiz just now. Here are the results:

Your type is: istj —The “Responsibility” Mother

“I have a serious love affair with to-do lists. I could sit for hours reading, organizing, and rearranging my weekly calendar.”

* The ISTJ mother has a highly developed sense of responsibility: for work, home, family ... particularly her children. Whether she’s overseeing daily baths or insisting on a 10 p.m. curfew, her efforts are largely focused on providing her children with order and routine. She wants them, regardless of age, to be able to count on her and the structure she provides.
* In carrying out her commitment to her responsibilities, the ISTJ mother is organized, industrious, and detail-oriented. Because her focus is the day-to-day realities of life, her children are likely to feel secure and well provided for.
* The ISTJ mother also sets a good example and provides her children with practical guidance on being a productive, responsible individual. Still, with all her seriousness, she may delight family members with her quick wit and observations about the details of life.

The spooky part is the quote--since right here on my desk next to me is my planner and monthly menu--which I'm rearranging.

H/T to Happy Catholic for the link to the quiz.

A Milestone Approaches

Doing the laundry today brought it home to me: in just two more school days, Big Brother will no longer be an elementary-school student.

There won't be any more light-blue "St. Peter's School" golf shirts on my clothesline; no more blue chinos in the wash. After nine straight years of wearing blue chinos to school every day, he'll be trading them in for gray at high school next year. I've washed my last blue uniform for my son.

The last time he graduated was from kindergarten. Middle Sister was just over 2, and she "crashed" the ceremony--lining up in the middle of the kindergarten children for her chance at a mimeographed diploma, and holding up the works when the principal wouldn't give her a piece of paper. Big Brother's friends let her in line, because she had kind of been adopted as "younger sister to the whole class."

Kindergarten diplomas are nice; from here on in, it starts to count for real.

Where does he pick these things up?

This morning while Little Brother and I were on our way to the store, a car making an illegal turn cut me off at an intersection.

Little Brother's comment: "That was cheap."

And in totally unrelated matters, can anyone tell me why I found a tennis ball in the bathroom just now?

Tommie of the Year

Faithmouse has a great cartoon today on the graduation speech issue.



He's also got more links to blogs addressing the subject. Click on the link above OR on the cartoon to get there.

Eternal Rest Grant Unto Him

...and may perpetual light shine upon him.

Rev. Monsignor Thomas J. Zazella (Father T) passed away this afternoon.

May he rest in peace.

Works-for-Me Wednesday: Defrosting

I got tired of finding little puddles all over my kitchen counter when I'm defrosting something--or in the refrigerator when I'm organized enough to defrost ahead of time. So I started putting my frozen items on top of a melamine tray. They come in all sizes and patterns at the dollar store, and I had a few already that I hardly ever used. Once the food is defrosted the tray washes up quickly and easily, and it contains all the drips.
Works for me!

You Know You Really Need Coffee When...

...you put the water in the coffeepot, but don't put in the coffee or the carafe, and then wander off. Ten minutes later you wonder why you don't smell coffee yet.

T is for...the Ten Things Meme

1. THREE--as in the number of children I have.

2. TERRIFIC--a good adjective to describe my husband.

3. TAU--the special cross worn by Secular Franciscans. Look at the top of my sidebar to see a sample.

4. TUNE--because I love music--listening to it as well as playing it.

5. TUB--my term for the big bucket I use to carry laundry out to my clothesline.

6. TANK--Little Brother's description of our "SUV-wannabe minivan" which happens to be green.

7. TIMER--what I live by in this house. I make it The Bad Guy when it's time for the kids to stop doing something fun and go do something not-so-fun.

8. TOO MANY--the number of cookbooks I have, according to my husband! Though he doesn't complain about my cooking...

9. TIP--helpful hints. I'm addicted to reading "tip" articles in magazines and on the internet. You never know when a good tip will come in handy.

10. TESTY--my mood in the morning until I've had my Sippy Cup of Coffee.

This meme has been brought to you by the Rambling GOP Soccer Mom, and the letter T.

Want to play? Just leave a comment, and I'll give you a letter.

Not to be insensitive or anything...

...but when I was reading the paper this morning, something in the obituaries struck me.

Why do they describe some of the people as "formerly of Philadelphia (or wherever)?" If they're in an obituary, all of them are "formerly" of their hometown....

I'm just sayin'.

Overheard in the Kitchen

Little Brother demonstrated how much breakfast he just finished: "I eat a lot of most, Mom!"

Weekend Miscellany

The Good:
On Saturday we attended the wedding of my husband's cousin, who is a very lovely and confident young woman. The groom was from Scotland, so we enjoyed bagpipe music after the ceremony as well as other music from the groomsmen (in kilts) during the reception. After Communion the priest prayed over the young couple and announced that they have consecrated their marriage to the Blessed Mother. I wish them every blessing as they begin their life together.

Sunday morning we attended Mass at my parents' parish, where the Gospel Choir from Straight and Narrow, a center for rehabilitation, detox and support for substance abusers who wish to get clean. They shared their music--wonderful and uplifting--and their stories, and their gratitude to God and their supporters in the program for getting a fresh start in life.

The Bad:
I received word that Father T. is very ill; he is hardly able to speak and cannot walk. He has asked for prayers.

The Ugly:
Middle Sister was an accident magnet yesterday. She brought her scooter to my parents' house to take advantage of the long, steep hill they live on. Instead, the hill got the better of her. It took a whole box of extra-large "knee and elbow" bandages to cover up the road rash on both her legs, one hip and both elbows. Later, at my brother-in-law's surprise 40th birthday party, all the kids were playing soccer, and she got hit in the head with the ball. (Yes, we've watched for signs of concussion. So far, so good).

Since when is it wrong...

...to make people think at a college graduation?

Apparently, at the University of St. Thomas, it's wrong all the time.

A graduating student who was chosen to speak at graduation included a contrast of selfishness and selflessness--and had the gall, at a Catholic university no less, to describe premarital sex and the use of contraception as selfish. The horror!

Sounds to me like he learned something. But not, I guess, at the university, which demanded that he apologize for upsetting his fellow graduates and their families to the point that they got up and left the ceremony.

The truth hurts, kids!

I'd like to commend Father Martin Fox for contacting the president of the University of St. Thomas, who responded to him in a manner best described as "lame-o" (to use one of my sister's favorite words. Hey, it fits.)

The ones who should apologize were the ones so rude as to walk out on the speaker.

4 more years until Big Brother is ready for college. I'm crossing another one OFF my list of his choices.

Dare I ask?

This morning I found a pair of chopsticks in the bathroom.

I don't even know which child I should interrogate first--or whether I want to!

My Own Worst Enemy

This morning Little Brother and I went to Storytime at a local library. We don't have a library here in town, so we were taking advantage of a drop-in Storytime offered at a tiny, charming library in an equally tiny, charming town.

Every time we go there Little Brother has a wonderful time. The two librarians who take turns hosting the Storytime are fantastic. There are stories (read aloud, or just storytelling), finger plays, and "action songs." When it's over the children may all color a picture related to the day's story.

Every time we go there, SFO Mom is transported back to 6th grade. I realize just how immature I am and how mentally snarky I can be. While Little Brother is up front belting out "Johnny Works with One Hammer" and "Wheels on the Bus" I am standing in the back comparing myself to all the other Storytime Mommies. This one has a tiny infant and has lost all her "baby weight"--Little Brother is over 4 and my waistline is stubbornly refusing to shrink. That one and her three well-groomed children have matching GAP tops--Little Brother has a buzz cut so I don't have to comb his hair in the mornings, and is wearing handmedowns from the Boy Next Door. These mommies arrived pushing their jogging strollers or Super Fashionable Thousand-Dollar Designer Strollers or driving luxury cars--we drove up in our Chevrolet SUV-Wannabe Minivan with the Catholic School logo stickers and the dusty windshield. Those mommies sit up front with their children in their laps and sing the songs--Little Brother does not believe in sitting on laps at Storytime (it's a struggle to get him to sit anywhere at Storytime). All of them are Better Than Me.

The obvious answer is not to go to Storytime anymore, but Little Brother really loves it. And we learn some good songs and finger-play games there. I'm well aware that the grass is not always greener, that my life would not be perfect if I had perfect hair, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect house in that charming town, the perfect car, and perfect children. So why is it that week after week, I look at those Storytime Mommies and think they're so perfect?

It Must be a Guy Thing

Little Brother just came over with one of his little toy tanks. He had snapped off a tiny gun turret from the top of the tank.

I told him I didn't think I had any glue that could fix this toy.

He suggested, "How about duct tape?"

I swear it's hardwired into their genes, or something. How does a four-year-old know about duct tape?

I'll Say a Little Prayer

This morning Little Brother and I were on our way home from the supermarket when a Paramedic vehicle sped by with its lights flashing and sirens blaring.

"Look! An ambulance!" Little Brother shouted. (I know; it's not an ambulance, but I wasn't in the mood to get technical with a four-year-old...)

I suggested that we should say a prayer for the ambulance drivers and the people they were helping. I had Little Brother repeat the words after me; something along the lines of "Dear God, please be with the ambulance drivers so they can help the sick person. Amen."

Little Brother told me that he wanted to do it again. I told him that this time, he could start the prayer and I would repeat. So he began, "Bless us, O Lord..."

Works-for-Me Wednesday: Picnics

Introducing the Picnic Bucket™!

We have a back porch with a picnic table and in the summertime the kids like to eat their lunches and snacks on the porch. Sometimes they have a hard time carrying their drink, plate, utensils and napkin all at once down the back stairs to get outside.

I took one of those large popcorn tins (the ones they sell at Christmas, with pictures on the side and 3 kinds of popcorn inside). We ate all the popcorn, and the picture was cute, so I didn’t want to just throw it away—but it wasn’t doing me any good just sitting there EMPTY! Now it’s filled with:
• Paper plates
• Paper napkins
• Paper cups
• Plastic forks, knives and spoons (in a zipper bag, so they don’t get all over the place)

When we’re not using the Picnic Bucket™ it can be closed tightly and set on a shelf, out of the way until we need it again.

Overheard at the dinner table

"I was going to turn my eyelids inside out, but I won't now."

Yeah. Thanks for that.

Rub It In, Rub It In

Today my Big Kids came home from school with new T-shirts. But these are not just any T-shirts. These shirts display the logo for the new Regional Catholic Elementary School that our diocese formed after ordering four area schools, including ours, to close in June.

We had 200 students in our school.
Between the other three schools, there were 378 more.
The new Regional School has enrolled 207 students for next year.
And they're OK with that?
There are rumors that our school building has already been sold, and that this is why our school year has been abbreviated--to give the new owners time to renovate the building before September.
So we're not getting a full year of education for our children, although we paid for one. They're OK with that too. (Of course, the kids are all thrilled!)
Maybe I should embellish the backs of those T-shirts:
MY SCHOOL WAS CLOSED AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.
Somebody hand me a Sharpie.

(Image shamelessly hijaked from You Duped Me, Lord.)

Mr. "I Have an Answer for Everything"

Big Brother: "When police say 'you have the right to remain silent,' does that mean you have to remain silent?"

Me: "No, but it means you're stupid if you don't!"

Maybe I should read him his Miranda rights the next time he won't let a matter drop. Because he never lets a matter drop. Persistence is a talent, and he has it in abundance.

Who's the Man?

I agree with the quote here in the Dawn Patrol. Fred Rogers was way more manly than T.O.
"Manly style is a guy who drives a Jeep; manly substance is a guy who can fix it. Manly style is Ronald Reagan playing soldier in war movies; manly substance is Jimmy Stewart, who actually flew numerous bomber missions. Manly style is seeming and appearing; manly substance is being and doing.

"There are people who look extremely manly, but are not. And people who don't look manly, but are. T.O., with his bulging muscles and chiseled torso, is a cartoon of exaggerated masculinity. On the football field, he certainly exhibits confidence in the face of risk. But because of his constant carping, his vanity and self-absorption, he is anything but manly.

"Fred Rogers, with his silly puppets and cardigan sweaters, was at the opposite end of the spectrum from Russell Crowe, Jesse Ventura and The Arnold. But he was confident of his belief in the power of love, and he had the courage to extend respect and appreciation to all, despite the risk of ridicule. The moral force of Rogers this soft, gentle man was fearsome. "Indeed, a manly man can be a gentleman -- 'a manly man with polish and perfection,' Mansfield writes, gentle 'out of policy, not weakness.'"

H/T to The GOP Soccer Mom.

Now Coming to a Mall Near You

Yet another reason you don't want your teenage daughter heading to the mall with her friends.

Planned Parenthood is opening "express clinics" at several malls. According to the American Life League, there are 47 such clinics in the U.S. Abortions are not performed at the mall. Yet. But it's a small consolation.

I can just imagine the window display. Not to mention the irony of possibly being located near a store like "Motherhood Maternity" or "The Children's Place." So now your teen can do one-stop shopping: Victoria's Secret undies AND birth control without a parent's knowledge, let alone consent.

Repeat after me: what Planned Parenthood does and promotes is Not Health Care.

Little Brother's Weather Report

Obviously someone is going to grow up to be a meteorologist, like his dad.

Little Brother provided his own "voice over" to the weather report I just saw on the morning news. The graphic showed the morning, noon and drive-time forecast.

"It's gonna be two sunnies, with a rainy in between."

Why is it...

...that my kids will contentedly find things to do inside the house all day long, while it is sunny out--and then as soon as the rain starts, will gather up the neighbor kids and head outdoors?

Pro Mom?

In Sunday's Philadelphia Inquirer, which I am just getting around to reading now, there's an article about Pro Moms. These are moms who were former working professionals, who apply the management skills they used at work to their lives as moms and homemakers. That wasn't the main idea of the article, but it was a recurring theme.

It's an interesting idea, and some of it works. But the home is not an office. It's not a classroom. It's a home, and it's just different. I have been both a teacher and a software analyst, so I've worked in both environments, in positions where I had a certain degree of authority over others. I also had clear deadlines, and a definite beginning and end to the day. I have none of these in my current chosen vocation of Wife, Mom, Homemaker, Shopper, Family Taxi Driver, and Finder of All Lost Things. Even my Really Cool Planner can't make me toe the daily-schedule line the way a school bell or the demands of a boss might.

I think the difference here is that I prefer to think of motherhood as a Vocation, not as a Profession.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: First Aid

One summer I worked at a Girl Scout camp. The most important lesson I learned there was to keep a first-aid kit handy. I have them all over the place: in my linen closet, in my car, and in the box I take to the local pool and keep there all summer. But the most-used kit I have is in the kitchen. It takes up hardly any space, and it's in the place where many accidents happen.

I put a small tube of Neosporin in a box of assorted band-aids, and keep it in a cabinet. That takes care of most quick bandaging needs!

I Flunked the 80's Music Quiz

Not surprising. I bet Big Daddy does way better than me on this one.
H/T to Another Catholic Mom.

Weapons and Peace

Danielle has a post today about boys playing with toy guns. It is a topic that comes up in my mind every now and again, especially after I've been around some SFOs in my fraternity who are particularly pacifist. I don't want to criticize them, and certainly they are more mature and probably more wise than I am...but they are also farther removed from the time when their sons were little boys and played with toy guns.

Boys and weapons just seem to go together. With two sons and a Boy Next Door who fits between them in age and plays here a lot, I see a lot of war-play going on. They use toy guns, water guns, play swords, and light sabers. If one of those is not handy they'll use a wiffle ball bat, a baseball tee (that's the cannon, in case you're interested), a pogo stick or a hockey stick. Given a little time to create their own, they'll come up with some fascinating weapons using simply Legos, K'Nex or Tinker Toys. Along with the neighbor children, the favorite outdoor game is Infiltrators.

It's unavoidable, I think. But they plan, they create, they strategize. And they make sure the Good Guys win.

Francis started out as an aspiring knight, after all.

Reveling in the Irony

I guess this is just a reflection of my strange sense of humor, but...I couldn't help myself.

Right now I'm reading
Crunchy Cons: How Birkenstocked Burkeans, Gun-Loving Organic Gardeners, Evangelical Free-Range Farmers, Hip Homeschooling Mamas, Right-Wing Nature Lovers, and Their Diverse Tribe of Countercultural Conservatives Plan to Save America

It was sitting open on the kitchen table.

Big Daddy was sorting through a pile of mail today, taking out all the credit-card offers so he could shred them. The kids always want the "fake credit cards" that come in these envelopes, so he left one on the table.

Guess what I'm using as a bookmark right now?

Counting My Blessings

On Mother's Day.

I am blessed. I have a husband who loves me, even when I get cranky. He tells me I don't have to cook on Mother's Day if I don't want to, and he will do the dishes after I cook anyway.

I am blessed. I have a teenager who is a Boy Scout, an A student, and a funny guy. He's not above playing with his siblings. He checks my blog regularly to see what I write about him.

I am blessed. I have a daughter who is artistic, musical, dramatic, creative, cute, and very loving. She writes me poem and makes "coupons" for me, like "coffee day," "spa day" and "TV day." She gets on my case if I don't use the coupons in a timely fashion.

I am blessed. I have a four-year-old who loves to be tickled, who gives loud, gleeful "smooches" and who made me a paper flower at play school, with his name written upside-down and backwards.

I am blessed. I have a healthy family. And I'm really grateful for all of them.

What Dads do on Mother's Day...

...so you don't have to:

Dad walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Little Brother tries to follow him in. "Dad, can I come in?"

Dad: "No!"

Little Brother (pushing the door open): "Yes I can! You like company, remember?"

Things You Never Thought You'd Have to Say...

...but then you had kids:
"If you're wet, and you don't live here, go home and change before you come in."

Day of Recollection

Tomorrow my SFO Fraternity will be hosting our annual Day of Recollection. We have a gifted Guest Speaker scheduled; a Franciscan priest who will explore the topic "Evangelical Counsels: The Call to be Poor, Loving and Obedient."

Including our SFO Fraternity members and guests we may have 50 people!

This will be the second year that I am Martha For A Day. In other words, I run the kitchen. We have many members who due to age have physical limitations. I'm 40 and I can put in a day of standing, carrying, cooking, serving and cleaning. Hey--I do it at home! And hospitality is an important part of the day.

Last year our speaker (the same one we'll have this time) scolded me for spending the day in the kitchen and missing the talk. So...I'm prepared. Along with the kitchen equipment, paper goods and food I've packed, I've also got the baby monitor. This way I can listen to the lectures. AND I've requested that when it's time to break into small groups for "sharing," that one small group visit me in the kitchen. If they want to share the work while they share the wisdom, that'll be great.

Please pray that the Holy Spirit will work in our speaker and in the hearts of all who are fortunate to listen.

Always blog on a full tank

A few weeks ago I took advantage of an offer to review some coffee. The terms of the offer were that I would receive six coffee samples, try them out, write a review on my blog and submit the link to the coffee company. Big Daddy thought this was an interesting marketing technique. I thought it was a way to justify my daily coffee consumption!

I figured that the "samples" would be little single-pot packets. I was very pleasantly surprised when a large box appeared on my doorstep. It contained six EIGHT-OUNCE BAGS of coffee. I was in Coffee Heaven. (Actually, I still am, because I haven't finished tasting and drinking all this wonderfully aromatic coffee.) I could smell the coffee through the special vent in the pouch. The worst part was figuring out which one to try first. There were "Bloggers Boot Up Blend," "New Media Mavericks," "Blogs of Bravery," "Bloggers PJ Passion," "Late Night Log In" and "Bloggers Beach Blast."

The kids, who are not coffee drinkers (by Mom's Decree), all weighed in with suggestions of which coffee pouch to open first. Both Big Brother and Little Brother suggested that I start with "Blogs of Bravery" since the label featured a helicopter. In fact, Little Brother calls this one "Army Guy Coffee." Big Daddy, who's not much of a coffee drinker unless it's flavored, decided that we should taste-test "Bloggers Beach Blast" with its chocolate and caramel flavor. It's his custom to add French Vanilla creamer to his coffee, and once he did that he practically had dessert. He likes to start his day with this one. I think it would make a nice iced-coffee-based smoothie, but it's not my favorite for drinking as a cup of coffee.

My next pick was "New Media Mavericks." It's a silly name, in my opinion, but the coffee rocks. It's described as a "medium roast from the prized Tarrazu region of Costa Rica." This variety was fantastic and I was sad to finish the bag.

Now I've moved on to the Army Guy Coffee: "Blogs of Bravery." Since the bag stated it was a blend of dark and medium roasts, I was a little apprehensive. I don't like Starbucks; I can't stand dark roasts. But this is really nice. It's not bitter at all, has no burned taste, and a very good coffee flavor.

I haven't gotten to the other three varieties yet, but so far I am very impressed at the quality of the coffee. It's delicious and very fresh. I'm enjoying every sip.

Airhead Moment

I'm going to blame this one on Amy.

She's the one who, in my combox on the Dinner Envy entry, suggested that I let my neighbor see my own personal housekeeping-Achilles-heel.

I'm sure Amy had in mind that my over-mom-whelmed neighbor would see my sticky kitchen floor, or notice that the carpet in Middle Sister's room is so covered in stuff that no one knows what color it is. Something like that.

Surely she did not mean for me to do what I did today.

I was trying to get ahead of myself by starting on the ironing I normally do on Saturdays (though it's not as much fun when I don't have a Notre Dame football game to watch while I iron). I'll be busy all day Saturday and people need clothes whether I am home to iron them or not. So I was ironing and chatting with Little Brother.

You need to know that I iron in my room, where there's a TV. You also need to know that I use spray starch on the khaki pants, and that since I'm growing out a layered haircut, I also need to use a good amount of hairspray. Both the starch and the hairspray are in light blue aerosol cans.

Did you guess where I'm going with this?

I needed to nail down a piece of my hair that was flopping in my eyes.

Spray starch works wonders for that kind of job.

Yeah. I told my neighbor. I think the laugh did her good.

Maybe next week's "Works-for-Me Wednesday" tip should be: Never keep the spray starch and the hair spray on the same dresser.

Due Diligence

Here's a reminder that I needed to see today. I learned something new about St. Catherine of Bologna and her 7 Spiritual Weapons:
1. diligence
2. distrust of self
3. confidence in God
4. remembrance of the Passion
5. mindfulness of one's own death
6. remembrance of God's glory
7. the injuctions of Sacred Scripture, following the example of Jesus Christ in the desert
The Friar Minor has this observation:
Spiritual practice means to do whatever it is you are doing diligently. This is to say that you do it with love for your act, mindful and attentive to what you are doing and to yourself as you are doing it.
In this way you are attentive to the act you are doing, rather than
just thinking about the result, or worse, what you have to do next.

In other words, take God off Cruise Control--and put Him in control.

Surprises and the Pill

Yesterday it was noted in a small editorial item in my local newspaper that 40 years ago was the introduction of the Pill.

I was not surprised to see that item, but I was very surprised to see it followed by the observation that if the Pill had been around in the 1940s, Billy Joel and Candice Bergen might not be celebrating their birthdays yesterday. That was a surprisingly prolife statement, in view of the paper's usual stance on such matters.

What I am quite sure most people don't realize is that the Pill is not so much a method of Contraception (in which a baby is not conceived) as it is a method of Abortion: it changes the lining of the uterus to try and prevent implantation of an already-conceived child.

I think a lot of minds would be changed, if that information got out.

Works-for-Me Wednesday

Since it seems to be All Chores, All the Time in BlogWorld today, I'll chime in on that topic.

My children are all required to do at least one chore per day that benefits the whole household (sweeping the kitchen, taking out the garbage, dusting the bookcases, for example). This is in addition to their "personal" chores (making the bed, putting dirty clothes in the hamper, picking up toys after using them, and such).

Since the Big Kids can read and like to write on my whiteboard, I list the Household Chores of the Day there. When they are done with the chore, they may erase the note. Sometimes they take the opportunity to leave me a note back.

More Things You Don't Want to Hear

Middle Sister just hung up the phone. Her friend called to say that her baby frog had gotten sucked into an aquarium filter and died.

Big Brother offered to Photoshop a "Rest in Peace" sign.

Then Middle Sister suggested to her friend, "Maybe you can put his body parts back together."

Big Brother decided he'd change the sign to "Rest in Pieces."

Things You Don't Want to Hear....

I dumped a batch of dough out of the bread machine pan onto the table so I could shape it into rolls. (See, I'm not June Cleaver; the bread machine makes our dinner rolls!) I patted it into a long log and turned around to get the dough cutter...and Big Brother walked into the room and banged on the dough a few times.

Me: "I hope your hands are clean. I know you were just using whiteboard markers..." (and probably erasing with your fingers)

Big Brother: "They're non-toxic."

Dinner Envy

I am beginning to suspect one of my neighbors of "dinner envy." She is a little younger than I am, with two small children (ages 5 and 2); often her husband's job takes him away from home at the dinner hour. On nice days we usually find ourselves at the back fence, helping the little ones over the fence as they scramble from yard to yard. The conversation always turns toward "what are you having for dinner?"

I know that she loves to cook, as I do. I also know that her family's palates are not nearly as adventuresome as mine. And while she doesn't actually say so, I know that sometimes she's wishing she were eating at my house (though when I invite her, she always declines).

This afternoon as we chatted by the fence, Big Brother wandered over to ask what would be for dinner tomorrow (why he needs to know this more than 24 hours in advance, I have no idea). I sent him inside to check the menu. "You mean you plan your dinners for a whole month? I could never do that. You have no idea what it would look like."

I tried to reassure her that yes, she could plan her meals, but she doesn't believe me. I'm guessing she'll spend the summer cooking and dining vicariously through me. She thinks I have it all together where this is concerned. Not true--at all! What I do have is more experience (I'm 9 years ahead of her when it comes to feeding kids) and more flexibility because there is very little that I will cook that my family will not at least try. (Except for tuna casserole and Brussels sprouts. They all draw the line there.)

I would really like to find a way to help her--to show her that yes, she can plan dinners for a month if she wants to--but more than that to give her the boost I feel she desperately needs. She needs to know that her little one won't be a toddler forever; that someone will eventually be willing to eat fish; that it does get easier, at least in the matter of getting food into the kids. I know she's so bogged down by the mothering part right now.

Any suggestions on how I can encourage my neighbor would be greatly appreciated.

Hospitality and the Good Shepherd

Hospitality is a virtue much praised by Saint Francis, as he encouraged his followers:
"Anyone who comes to the brothers, friend or enemy, thief or robber, is to be received with kindness...they are to greet one another wholeheartedly and lovingly, and honor one another without grumbling." (Rule of 1221, Chapter VII)

Through the Year with Francis of Assisi: Daily Meditations from His Words and Life
Sometimes it can be a real challenge to be hospitable. I don't always succeed at the "wholeheartedly and lovingly" part, and I'm particularly bad about "grumbling." But I was shown a lovely example of hospitality twice this week--at the schools my Big Kids will attend next year. And there was no grumbling.

Middle Sister will be transferring into a different parochial school, as the parish school she has been attending since kindergarten will shut its doors in June. It's hard to start over again in a new place, though for her it will be made easier because 6 of her classmates will be coming with her, and she already has one friend there. We adults have it tougher. The PTA hosted a potluck dinner the other night and the families from our old school were the guests. We were fed a delicious meal, given handmedown uniforms to start our children's school wardrobe, informed about some programs, and most importantly, graciously and enthusiastically welcomed. It's a hard transition, but it helps so much to know that there are friendly faces in the new school. It will be OK.

Big Brother will be starting high school in the fall. This morning all students who won scholarships for next year (he won a partial scholarship!) were honored at a Mass and brunch. Our whole family was invited to attend. Again, we were shown wonderful hospitality.

Today's Gospel speaks of what the Lord does for us:

Jesus said: “I am the good shepherd. A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. (John 10:11)

Jesus, in laying down His life for us, did so wholeheartedly and lovingly, without grumbling--the perfect example of holy hospitality.

And all this time I thought it was Cinco de Mayo

Silly ME!

I've been set straight by Little Brother, who obviously is an expert on the subject because at "play school" today they had a "pee-hana, where you hit it like in tee ball, with a bat, and you get the candy when it falls out." He has a nice little bag of candy too.

I asked him if they had the piñata at his school because it was a special day.

"YES!"

I asked him if the special day was called "Cinco de Mayo." (I am a former Spanish teacher, after all. I should have some clue here.)

"No, it's Pee-hana Day!"

You come in here with a skull full of mush...

I'm a Mandarin!

You're an intellectual, and you've worked hard to get where you are now. You're a strong believer in education, and you think many of the world's problems could be solved if people were more informed and more rational. You have no tolerance for sloppy or lazy thinking. It frustrates you when people who are ignorant or dishonest rise to positions of power. You believe that people can make a difference in the world, and you're determined to try.

Talent: 33%
Lifer: 44%
Mandarin: 64%

Take the Talent, Lifer, or Mandarin quiz.

These quiz results are amazingly accurate.

Wonder if I can Netflix those old Paper Chase reruns? That was a great show.

How Much Coffee...

...will it take to appropriately fortify myself in order to accompany Middle Sister's class (and the fifth grade as well) on a field trip to the Adventure Aquarium? My saving grace here is that there will be no ride on a school bus, as we're taking the light rail. They plan on spending the day, although it is my scientific conclusion after visiting the place twice in the last three months that you can see the whole Aquarium in under two hours. With Little Brother along, you can do it in one and a half, including potty breaks.

In the interest of the "stay with the group" requirement, I have successfully begged my neighbor to watch Little Brother for the day. He prefers to run through the Aquarium at top speed, yelling, "What's this one?" but tearing off to the next one before you get to the sign for the first one. Now that's exhausting. Usually he falls asleep on the train ride home after that.

In addition to coffee, I believe I will need to bring sunglasses. Middle Sister is enjoying her day without a uniform. She is sporting tan capris, an orange T-shirt, a purple hoodie, purple socks and black Converse All-Stars. There will be no problem finding her in a crowd.

It will be a nice opportunity to spend time with Middle Sister and her friends without Little Brother along. That's a rare thing indeed.

Things I Bet You Didn't Know

Plastic Easter eggs (the kind you can open up and fill with the sweet treat of your choice) are the perfect ammunition when used in the catapult on a "vintage 1995" Fisher-Price knights' castle.


Ever resourceful, that's my kids.

Works-For-Me Wednesday

I've been enjoying a new feature at Rocks in My Dryer: Works-for-Me Wednesday. It's like a Carnival of Tips--and really useful ones, at that.

Here's my tip, one I use when my Big Kids start getting on each other's nerves: "If you can't BE nice to your brother/sister, you need to DO something nice for them." Fake it 'til you make it, kids!

Burning Questions of the Day

Why is there a Storm Trooper on the dining-room table?

And why is no one else in the house suitably impressed at my ability to correctly identify a Storm Trooper?

Sigh...

An Encouragement to Parents

I saw a link to this wonderful homily and am so glad I took a couple of minutes to read it. Father Martin Fox encourages parents to bring their children to church; not to worry if their age-appropriate behavior is a distraction; to feed their children's souls.

This is what I would like to say to any of my friends who don't bring their children to church because they worry about how the kids will act when they're there. And I'll point them to this link in the future when the opportunity presents.

Via Cirque de Moi.

The Secret Ingredient

This afternoon I made a batch of "kitchen sink" chocolate-chip cookies. That means I put in the last half cup of this or that--whatever interesting things I found in the cabinet. Today it was Rice Krispies and coconut.

Middle Sister left her cookies, half eaten, on the table. I said, "Didn't you like these cookies? Aren't they the best cookies you've ever eaten?"

She answered, "Well, they were pretty good, but I wasn't too impressed with the onions in them."

You know it's a Catholic School...

...when, during the school's Theatre Club major production, a student announces: "Now there will be a ten-minute intercession."