They're Kids, Not Kitchen Designers--and that's a Good Thing

After we finished dinner, TheDad went to put his plate in the dishwasher. Since we had rice with our dinner, I asked him to rinse the plate.

"Dishwashers and rice just don't get along," I observed. "The only dishwasher we ever had that could take care of rice was that ancient Kenmore in our first home. I didn't even have to rinse out OATMEAL BOWLS with that dishwasher."

Big Brother commented, "You know what's cool? I saw this dishwasher in The Big Orange Home-Improvement Store that had a transparent front so when you turn it on you see the water swishing all around."

"Ewwwww! Who wants to see that?!" I answered.

All three kids, all at once, yelled, "I DO!"

...And Another Contest!

Because the only thing better than one contest, is TWO contests!



Splat Designs is offering the prize of a free blog template design. Judging from the design at that site, this is quality stuff.

Visit the site, and enter your own blog in the contest!

And the crowd goes wild...

Middle Sister, Little Brother, and a neighbor are outside playing basketball in the driveway.

I went to put something away in the garage and asked them to pass me the ball. A perfect SWISH!

Our guest cheered: "Nothin' but net by a MOM!"

Can't Resist a Contest!

There's a contest over at 5 Minutes for Mom. Easy to enter, and what a great prize! Just in time for "Kids Track In Dirt from Everywhere Season"--a Dyson Slim vacuum. All you have to do to enter the contest is sign the "Mr. Linky" at 5 Minutes for Mom, and tell your readers about it on your own blog. How easy is THAT? (And this vacuum weighs only 15 pounds and has that lifetime-HEPA filter system; perfect for us asthmatic moms).

Go ahead, enter the contest! You have until April 4.

Note from the Teacher

Little Brother had a friend over to play today, so he missed going to preschool. Half an hour ago he realized that he had not gone to school, and a big scene resulted.

So Middle Sister decided to play school with him for a while. She gave him the number placemat and the dry-erase marker so he could write his numbers. Then she gave him the letter placemat for writing his letters. I just overheard a big discussion about why he does not need to ride a school bus.

Then Little Brother delivered me a note from the teacher. Here's what it said:

"I must say, Little Brother is a very bright student. The only thing bad is that he doesn't like to follow orders (directions) Please talk to him about this problem. Although he is a very quick learner, he needs some proper judgement. By that I meen he needs to get better manners."

She is one tough grader. She can't spell, but she's tough. Good thing I'm not in her class....

The Song in My Head

Thanks to Michelle, the song in my head is "The Bunny Song." I'm going to be singing this ALL. DAY. LONG. I just know it. I am powerless over "The Bunny Song" though I must say, I like the "New & Improved Bunny Song" much better.

And contrary to that old wives' tale, singing the song in your head out loud to clear it out does not work. It just annoys the people around you or spurs them to sing along.

If it weren't Lent, I might have to seek revenge by mentioning some of my most pestiferous earworms as:
"Think" by Aretha Franklin, as performed in "The Blues Brothers"
"Walk Like an Egyptian" (The Bangles)
"Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" (Jim Croce)
And that song about the three little fishies and the mama fishie too, who swam and swam right over the dam. (Boop boop diddum daddum waddum, choo!)

But it's Lent, so I wouldn't do such a thing.

What song's in YOUR head?

Overheard at the Dinner Table

"Little Brother, butter is not finger food."

Redirection

Little Brother and his friend Adventure Boy are busily playing with Legos and having a snack of popcorn.

Of course, two five-year-olds generally spill at least as much popcorn as they eat. Between the popcorn and the Legos, I could barely tell what color carpet they were sitting on.

Neither of them was too keen on the idea of picking up that spilled popcorn, until I suggested that they put it into a bowl and then take it outside and dump it out under the bird feeder so the squirrels could have a snack too.

Suddenly the two boys were quiet as could be, picking up every tiny speck of popcorn off the floor so they could feed the squirrels. They proudly went outside to dump the bowl.

What an instant change in attitude! Cleaning up for the sake of cleaning up is not fun at all, and I often resist doing it just as the two boys did. But if cleaning up means that someone else benefits, it becomes less of a chore. Sometimes it even becomes a pleasure.

I've noticed this myself as I do a morning sweep through the house. "I love you," I think to myself as I pick up someone's dirty socks that are hiding under a chair. Remembering that I sweep the floors, wash the socks, and scrub the sink because I love my family can help me get past the "I don't want to" attitude that can easily overtake me.

An excellent wife who can find?
She is far more precious than jewels.
The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.
She seeks wool and flax,
and works with willing hands.
She is like the ships of the merchant;
she brings her food from afar.
She rises while it is yet night
and provides food for her household
and portions for her maidens.
She considers a field and buys it;
with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
She dresses herself with strength
and makes her arms strong.
She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
Her lamp does not go out at night.
She puts her hands to the distaff,
and her hands hold the spindle.
She opens her hand to the poor
and reaches out her hands to the needy.
She is not afraid of snow for her household,
for all her household are clothed in scarlet.
She makes bed coverings for herself;
her clothing is fine linen and purple.
Her husband is known in the gates
when he sits among the elders of the land.
She makes linen garments and sells them;
she delivers sashes to the merchant.
Strength and dignity are her clothing,
and she laughs at the time to come.
She opens her mouth with wisdom,
and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
She looks well to the ways of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women have done excellently,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
Give her of the fruit of her hands,
and let her works praise her in the gates. (Proverbs 31: 10-31)

This is a tall order, for sure. (And I'm certainly guilty of "eating the bread of idleness" more than I should!) But I think that part of the secret of this "excellent wife" is that she is doing her work out of love for her husband and family. The hard work of running a household goes a little easier when you focus on blessing the people you love.

Things that Make Me Go "Hmmmmm...."

I got home from an after-dinner tutoring job tonight and almost tripped on my way to the front door.

Someone had taken a sand pail, tied a 20-foot piece of leftover clothesline to it, tied the other end to the tree in the front yard, and carried the pail as far away as they could until the rope was taut.

Luckily, there was enough light from the nearby streetlight that I could see the white rope about a foot off the ground.

Little Brother was already asleep, and the Big Kids have laid the blame for this on him, but have no explanation.

I don't know if he was trying to catch something, trip someone, or just see how far the rope would reach. Then again, the answer could be "None of the above." He's 5, after all. It could be ANYTHING. (I'd bet against the "trip someone" option, though. He's just not that devious. Yet. Give him time....)

I'll have to remember to warn TheDad in the morning so he doesn't get hurt on his way to the car.

Hurry, hurry, step right up...

It's Carnival Time again!

This week's Catholic Carnival is hosted by Profound Gratitude. There are quite a few bloggers I'd never seen before so I'm looking forward to exploring all that this Carnival has to offer.

Dear God: What kind of ice cream do you like?

Little Brother just asked me: "I wonder what God's favorite ice cream is."

"I have no idea," I told him. I was about to ask him what kind of ice cream God would like best, when he said,

"Maybe we can send Him a letter, and ask."

(So what do you think? My guess would be Heavenly Hash. And not just because I happen to like that kind....)

Blending In

In between the sounds of the birds chirping and ducks quacking, I've been hearing some hammering today. I just looked out the window and saw that a house nearby is being prepped for re-siding.

We see a good many renovations like this in the spring, as the homes in this neighborhood are 45 years old. So lots of people are sprucing up.

I've noticed that as the siding changes, so does the color. No surprise there. It's an opportunity to change the whole look of your house. (If we ever had this house re-sided, I'd want a different color too!) What is surprising is that everyone is choosing beige for their siding.

OK, some of it is taupe. Some is almond. Some is toast. It's still beige, folks....

I like a little color with my houses, thank you. Ours is faded yellow (so it's almost beige) and believe me, if I had the reason and the money to re-side this place, beige is not what I would choose. There's just so MUCH of it around here. We're not in one of those Restrictive-Living Communities that tell you what you can plant in your flower bed and what color your curtains can be. In this neighborhood you could have purple siding if you want.

But nobody wants to.

Everybody wants beige. Everybody wants their house to look just like everybody else's house. Everybody wants to blend in. We think we get past that when we get out of high school, but I don't think we do.

Are we Catholics called to blend in? Certainly Francis of Assisi didn't worry about blending in. He was not out to please his wealthy father or the rich neighbors. There was no "keeping up with the Joneses" for him--he gave it all away, even when it wasn't necessarily his to give! When I think of that quote "in the world but not of the world" (John 17: 14-15) I don't think about blending in. Shouldn't our faith lead us to stand out a little bit from the crowd?

It's OK not to be like, look like, act like everyone else. We try to teach this to our children, but do we miss this lesson ourselves? We should not be afraid to stand out because of our beliefs. We're very fortunate here. We are free to believe as we wish to, without putting our lives and our families in danger because of our faith. Yet sometimes we keep it hidden away, because it might make us stick out a little.

And who knows--we might attract others through our example. Maybe they'll want to blend in with us!

Taking Flight

I just read this post about guardian angels working overtime this week, and how hard it is to watch your children grow up and give them over to those same guardian angels.

I completely agree. It's much easier when they're still small enough to carry. But I only have one who still fits in that category (and it's getting tough to still do that).

This afternoon found me sitting at a local airport while Big Brother participated in a fly-in, as a back-seat passenger in a retired Russian military trainer. I don't like to think about how high up he was when he took this picture. I didn't want to know if the pilot was going to do any acrobatics, but I figured it wasn't out of the question as there were several aircraft practicing formation technique. And the relief I felt once I saw the plane return to the runway was multiplied when the pilot gleefully informed me that there had been "a little trouble up there with the landing gear" but that fortunately the gear had locked in the down position, which was the favorable kind of problem to have.

If this kid keeps flying I think I might wear out some rosaries. And as he progresses through his high school years and beyond, he will be in situations that may risk his life, limb, morals, principles, integrity and career. I guess it doesn't matter whether he's in an airplane or not. There will still be many risks, and TheDad and I won't always be able to be there to make sure the landing gear works.

It's a big world, and he's discovering just how big it is. Today he got to experience that from a very high altitude. I'm glad there was room in that cockpit for his guardian angel, and I pray that his angel will always stay close by him.

Little Blessings Can't Make Me Smile Right Now

This morning the sunrise made brilliant orange streaks in the dark sky.

When I opened the window I could hear many birds chirping to greet the day. I could even hear some ducks quacking. Robins were busily scoping out worms in my backyard. The bunny was hopping around out there too.

The Big Kids got up with their alarm clocks and without motherly nagging.

TheDad made sure to give me several extra hugs before leaving for the day.

Little Brother was lying on the floor outside the bathroom door early this morning, but he went back to sleep on the couch under the special blanket for another hour.

The brewing coffee filled the kitchen with its warm, rich aroma.

And I had to go hide in a dark room for a moment because in spite of all these little blessings, I couldn't keep the tears from rolling down my face. It's not the first time in the past couple of days, either. TheDad is mystified at the sudden emotional wreckage that has occurred.

So pardon me while I try and keep it together.

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick

I picked up a set of jacks at the store today, to play with Little Brother. He got tired of the actual game pretty quickly, though, and decided to put the pieces to "better" use.

Little Brother: "I have a land mine with 2 jack balls in it."

Me: "Jack balls are for jacks, not land mines."

Big Brother: "Jack balls don't even remotely resemble land mines."

What We Keep

Mary Poppins NOT describes finding a children's classic in a thrift store and seeing a special inscription:

"To a very brave little girl. From her loving and adoring mommy."
How on earth could someone get rid of that book?

I once bought a children's board book of prayers at a library book sale. It was MINT condition (rare for a board book) and when I read it with Little Brother for the first time, I found a loving inscription to a child from a GODPARENT. This was apparently a christening gift.

Could it really be true that a godparent took the time to select and inscribe this book for a godchild, only to have it donated, most likely unread, to a library sale?

What a tragedy that in both cases, a love note from a parent or godparent to a child is just considered clutter and thrown away.

Things that Tickle my Funnybone

From Big Brother's high school Daily Bulletin:

From the Dean of Students:
REMINDER: NO FACIAL HAIR IS PERMITTED WITHOUT A DOCTOR’S NOTE.

Born in the Digital Age

Little Brother is convinced that email is all-important. Everyone else in the house has email except him, and he's feeling left out.

As he wandered around here pretending to be a Knight or Archer (I'm not sure which), he said to me, "If I had email, I'd be happy. Dot com."

I missed most of the homily today

From what I heard, it was a really good homily, too. One of our deacons was preaching beautifully on the bountiful love of the father in the Gospel story today, and how this love is a wonderful model for all parents.

Unfortunately, I was distracted by a couple of people who, ironically, are most in need of prayer, but who frequently have to be removed from the church and church premises.

They are not children.

They are a mother-daughter pair who live in the neighborhood and apparently suffer from mental illness. They have disrupted Masses before, as well as other parish events. At times there has been police involvement.

Before Mass, our college-student cantor walked in without her mother T, who usually sings in the choir as well. I asked where she was, and the answer was that these two people were in church today, and T had gone to alert the ushers. Later she did come and sit with the choir, but I could see that she was watching someone. Suddenly, during the homily, the daughter got up and walked down the aisle from the back of church to the front, past the pulpit, and out the door behind the altar. The deacon paused a minute (he's been confronted by them in the past) but she passed him, and he went on with the homily. T leaned over and asked if I had my cell phone, and I handed it to her. She quickly left by the side door. Her daughter followed her after a minute, following a whispered discussion among choir members about whether the sacristy was locked.

I spent the next few minutes completely ignoring the homily and praying the prayer to St. Michael the Archangel, over and over. I saw the mother leave the church. Later, T came back in. They never returned.

My husband and Big Brother said the only thing they noticed was the daughter walking through the front of the church. We are thankful that there was no disruption, though T was subjected to plenty of verbal abuse outside.

St. Dymphna, patroness of the mentally ill, pray for them. I pray that the love of the Father, who as today's Gospel tells us loves us generously and without reserve, can touch and heal the hearts of these two souls.
St. Michael the Archangel, thank you.

UPDATE: I hope I haven't given the impression that I am condemning these folks (I worried about this all night). I know they are in a very unfortunate situation. I also know that I am powerless to change that situation and that the only thing I can do for them is to pray and to encourage others to pray as well. It truly is a shame that they cannot function as part of the church community at this time. But God's love is powerful and healing, and I hope they will be healed.

Wardrobe is Everything

Who knew?

Sometimes I just don't have the kind of energy it takes for these discussions:

"Little Brother, in 5 minutes it's time for your bath."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Noooooooooooooo!"

"In 5 minutes you will come upstairs for your bath."

(pause)

"How many more minutes?"

"Four."

"How about now?"

"You want your bath now?"

"No. If I do, I'll get my pajamas on, and then I can't play Knights and Archers."

Apparently a blanket sleeper with dinosaurs on it is not dignified enough for either role. But he does have some blue camo-printed pajamas. Perhaps when I remind him about those, he'll change his tune. Either way, he's still getting that bath.