I Still Heart Target

Despite the bad economic picture, I still am weak when it comes to Target impulse buys. My poor Jimmy had a double ear infection today, so we had to meander through the aisles as we waited for his antibiotic prescription. As he moaned in my arms, I picked out this delicious Mossimo skirt. It's ladylike and yet has an alternative edge due to its more coarse fabric. It's also pretty forgiving as the layers hide a flaw or two!

Luck o' the Irish?

More like faith of the Irish! Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone! May your day be full of joy and Irish faith, even if it's not your heritage. Thanks to Aunt Paula for sharing this prayer card.

If you read on through the prayer to the end of this blog post, it could be your lucky day!




Prayer from St. Patrick's Breastplate

I arise today through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to see before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to secure me___
against snares of devils,
against temptation and vices,
against inclinations of nature,
against everyone who shall wish me
ill, afar and anear,
alone and in a crowd...
Christ, be with me, Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit,
Christ where I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
Salvation is of the Lord.
Salvation is of the Lord.
Salvation is of the Christ.
May your salvation, O Lord, be ever with us.

Is it your lucky day this St. Patrick's Day? I am doing my first-ever Blog Give-away of 2 AMC movie tickets. You can enter the contest by posting a comment by midnight today (March 17). In your comment, please let me know what (if anything) you are doing to celebrate St. Patrick's Feast Day. I will announce a random winner tomorrow on the blog and ask for an email address so I can send 2 AMC tickets along. Make sure to check back on March 18 to see if you won!

"But Daddy, I want a paaaar-ty!"

For those who don't know the quote, it's from that bratty girl on Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

Is it wrong for me to want to throw a party just so I can wear this dress?

A Leisurely Saturday Lunch

During the week, I'd liken my lunch routine with the kids to a true sprint. We enter the door in a blast-off, and then I'm piloting the solo run of juggling three children who are exhausted from pre-school, transport, hunger, etc. It's quite a sight to see me negotiating these kids into patience as they wait for ANY food to miraculously appear before them. They just don't seem to understand that healthy items don't come from a robotic, push-button machine like on the Jetsons.

Wouldn't it be great if lunches did?

I enjoy Saturday lunches. As John is around, I have a little more time to thoughtfully prepare. Here is an example of a staple salad I'll make on Saturdays. I'm showing you the 3-plate special for our family, because we really have 3 categories of eaters in our family.

1.) The Mom and Dad eaters:
As you can see, John and I enjoy a "combination" meal with each dietary element mixed into the next element. Here, I've taken simple spring mix and complemented it with goat cheese (freezes well, I usually keep it on hand from Costco), pine nuts, shredded turkey breast, strawberries, avocado and a simple vinaigrette of balsamic, oil, salt, sugar, and minced garlic.

My general recipes for an entree salad is this:
80% Green + Fruit + Good Cheese + Nut + Dressing = Success
Bonus points for adding in extra vegetables.




2.) The toddler, separated special:
Tom and Lucy are still in the age category that generally prefers food to be separated, not mixed. I'm not sure why kids go through this stage, but it's fairly common. I don't tolerate this request for every meal, but for lunches, I often find they will try new foods if they are easily visible on the plate. I am still working at getting the kids to eat any kind of greens, but they each have a few vegetables they'll tolerate, and I consider that an accomplishment. Pictured, you'll see a variation on our adult salads to include sliced avocado, turkey "roll-ups", spring mix, and strawberries.


3.) The baby plate:
Since Jimmy has proclaimed his new stage of eating everything in sight, I make a point to chop up much more food than I'd ever imagine he'd eat in one sitting. He surprises me with both the quantity he consumes AND the quantity that he deflects onto the (carpeted) floor beneath him.
Jimmy loved the avocado and turkey; I supplemented with some baby food since he's not yet ready for strawberries, pine nuts, and spring mix.

Let's Be the Survivors

The odds aren't too great for marriages these days. Marriages have always faced hardship, but in our society, the cultural mindset has swung towards divorce as the easiest response to hardship.*

In a recent discussion with John, I reminded both of us of something we'd heard at a marriage retreat or workshop a short time ago. I might get the words wrong here, but this is the general message:

We don't want to be an ordinary couple. We don't want to have an ordinary marriage.
We are looking to be extraordinary.

Now, before you think I'm just superegotistical, hear me out:
In an ordinary marriage, divorce is just around the corner. In an ordinary marriage, fights get out of control. In an ordinary marriage, people ignore their problems and allow one another to be selfish because sometimes, that's easy.

I can't let that be the way our marriage goes. I have to concentrate on being selfless for John. I have to concentrate on giving my family the edge that will pull us through to the 50-year finish line.


*I want to point out here that I am not the kind of person who sees divorce as never an option. There are some dire situations in which divorce/annulment is really the best of all difficult options. But I want to be clear in stating that I think many marriages fail because it's easy to be selfish in a marriage and selfishness is ultimately destructive in any relationship.

SuperConscientious

One of the annoying things about being me and being a Mom is that, in reality, I have trouble just rollin' with the punches. When I think about my kids and music, I envision them writing symphonies. When I think about my kids and MTV, I worry that Lucy will become body-obsessed and have an eating disorder. When I think about my kids and God, I envision my kids making their pathway not slowly...to First Communion, for instance. Instead, I see them at the altar for their weddings or Holy Orders vows.

I would say that this kind of goal-oriented mindset is pretty much an everyday, every minute occurrence in my life. In fact, there are times when I have to mentally talk myself into slowing down and just enjoying the moment: "Just chill out a little, Anne....it's going to be fine if Lucy just colors Curious George right now and doesn't finish an oil pastel masterpiece."

Ok, I was exaggerating a little bit with that one. But not really.

But seriously, there are disadvantages AND advantages to my compulsive, goal-oriented parenting. (Or at least, I'm about to make a case that there are.)

One advantage of forward-thinking in parenting is that I have the foresight to realize when my kids are subtly trying to take advantage and take control in our relationship. Hang on. I know that sounds weird. But kids are actually champs at this, especially mine.

Kids excel at trying to establish a routine that undermines the parent. Have you ever really watched Supernanny? Have you ever seen how the tantrum-throwers beg for first, a glass of water and then, a different blanket and then, a snugglier teddy bear and then, just 5 minutes of Mommy singing in the room. After the bedtime routine. After the lights out. It goes on and on and onandonandonandon. For my non-parent readers, it is downright exasperating. It's the kind of thing that makes my 14-hour day longer and longer and longer until finally, John and I collapse with exhaustion, realizing we've allowed our kids to control EVERY SECOND of bedtime and we have left no time or energy to connect as husband and wife.

A very detrimental effect.

Anyway, to get back to my earlier point, one advantage of forward-thinking in parenting is that I can acknowledge a bad routine-in-progress (see my She Devil post) and put a halt to it. Sometimes John and I would rather ignore a bad habit that is developing, but really, in the long run, we'd rather enjoy one another for a few moments every night.

She Devil

I'm sorry for the harsh nickname, Lucy, but if you were in my shoes and just experienced a 2-hour tantrum surpassing the magnitude of those I've seen on "Supernanny," you might resort to this and other names.

GO TO SLEEP, MUNCHKIN.

YOU WILL NOT WIN, SO GIVE UP NOW!

Paralysis: On the Economy, Finally.

I have to admit that I have avoided the subject of the ongoing Recession like the plague. I generally an optimist and would prefer not to address difficult topics head-on. (Look at me: I'm still calling it a Recession, when quite frankly, it's heading quickly towards Depression.) Every day it seems I hear more bad news. More friends losing jobs, more people wondering if they will be able to pay the bills next week.

It's starting to hit real close to home, and that scares me.

How is America going to pull through this period? How can I help those around me who are clinging to their homes and their lifestyles with barely their fingernails? What can I do to make a difference?

I just hate to ever admit that I can't.

On the Subject of Gorgonzola

I love blue cheese. Love it. If you need proof, see one of my earliest gourmet creations, my husband's true favorite Blue Cheese Pasta Salad. For a while now, I have tried various takes on a warm blue cheese pasta to little success. Cream sauces with blue cheese strike me as bland and yet pungently overpowering. Tonight, John and I finally agreed on what is necessary to make a warm blue cheese pasta success. Theoretically.
Some of the appeal of blue cheese must be its chunky, clumpy consistency. Instead of sauteeing the cheese in a typical cream sauce, my next effort will be to only slightly melt the blue cheese into warm, cooked pasta.
Pictured here you see one of my failed (though pretty) blue cheese pasta efforts.
On the up side, I discovered a wonderful new texture of pasta called orecchiette, imported from Italy. The consistency was similiar to that of a dumpling, and yet, it was pasta. A wonderful texture to absorb sauce.

The Last Winter Comfort Food: Wild Rice Soup-Encrusted Chicken Breasts

In this final cold snap (conveniently situated in the midst of "spring" break), I created a new winter comfort dish that the whole family gobbled up tonight.

Ingredients
2 C leftover Wild Rice soup (I used the Byerly's recipe with ham, but you could purchase this for your own convenience)
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
paprika
kosher salt
freshly ground pepper

Instructions
This one is sure to wow any true Minnesotan, especially a man who loves a hearty, creamy meal. Place the 4 chicken breasts in a small glass baking pan. Sprinkle with kosher salt, cracked pepper, and a bit of paprika for aesthetic appeal. Then, slather the breasts with 2 C of wild rice soup.

It's honestly that easy.

Bake this dish at 350 degrees for about an hour. Check on the chicken once, flipping it over and re-sprinkling the other side of the chicken with more salt, pepper, and paprika.

You will be amazed with this easy, luscious meal!

Tortilla Español

When John and I lived in the south of Spain, we frequently sampled the traditional Tortilla Español, which is basically a potato omelette. To the ordinary person, this delicious indulgence may sound simple. The reality is that its simplicity is divine!

Last night, I created my own version of this simple Spanish wonder.

Ingredients
1 small baby red potato
extra virgin olive oil
garlic
6 eggs
milk
3 T chopped white onion
rosemary
kosher salt
fresh cracked pepper

Instructions
Chop potatoes and onions into small cubes. Fry over medium heat in about 2 T olive oil and about 1 t minced garlic until onions are tender and potatoes begin to brown, but not burn.
Transfer this mixture to a bowl and set aside.

To prepare your omelette, whisk 6 eggs completely in a large bowl. Add in about 1/3 C milk. Prepare to be patient. Pour the eggs and milk into your pan (prepped already for non-sticking with your old EVOO). Keep your heat on medium-low and WATCH THE OMELETTE with care. Since our time in Spain, I have made many omelettes, and many have turned out poorly due to lack of patience. Omelettes must be prepared on relatively low heat and slow-cooking is critical. Watch as the eggs begin to "set" and bubble a bit in the pan. Then, slowly lift your pan and slightly "wave" it from side to side so that the uncooked portion of the egg resettles evenly in the pan. (This is complicated, so don't give up after just one omelette.) Repeat this settling process until the eggs are starting to look pretty well cooked.

At this point, I like to add in my seasonings/main ingredients. I use a generous portion of kosher salt (maybe 1/2 t) and a generous sprinkling of freshly cracked pepper. I also find a sprinkling of rosemary to bring out great earthy flavor in omelettes.

When the eggs look close to cooked, sprinkle the cooked onions, garlic, and potatoes on top of 1/2 of the omelette. Then, carefully slide your spatula underneath the other half of the omelette, and fold than side on top of the "topping" half.

Allow the omelette to continue to cook on low heat until you determine the inside of the omelette is cooked to your desired egg doneness. I would aim for about 2 to 4 more minutes.

I served this Spanish tortilla alongside leftover roasted ham from last week. Delicious! I would recommend a simple parsley garnish for aesthetic beauty.

John and I were transported back to Granada with this one.

Wally & the Goose

These guys are like twins with their own secret language.


I can't believe they actually fell asleep together in bed.

110%

I think I'm actually an intimidating person.  Looking back, I realize the signs of this started early.  In high school, I had a crush on one guy and I made him all these cards and sent him a ton of notes.  I don't think they were overly romantic or anything, but I totally scared him off and blew the whole deal.

I also had a friend in high school who used to tell me that it seemed like I could accomplish more in one day than anyone else.  Is that true?  I don't know.  It sounds boastful to say it, I guess.  Lately, I've actually been feeling like it's a detriment that I have so many ideas and so many things I want to accomplish.  In fact, I have so many projects on my list right now that I am embarrassed to tell you about them all.

Why do I feel such an obligation to accomplish so many things?  Whenever I want to do a project, I want to do it 110%.  In 6th grade, I started a newspaper for my class.  I proposed the idea to the principal of the school and then I garnered funds from my sister's high school employer.  I didn't have my parents call them.  I just went over to the local outdoors shop where she worked, asked for the manager, and told him why he should give me money to start my 6th grade newspaper.

And he did it.

For some reason, I believe that people should do the things I want them to do.  Currently, I am thinking about how I want to set my friend up with this Catholic guy who is perfect for her.  Except they live a million miles away from one another.  And yet I not only believe they are right for one another, I also believe that I can actually contribute to their union.

Why do I believe this stuff? 

I have a really hard time drawing the proverbial line in the sand.  I can't stop myself from interfering in other people's lives.

---

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Ahead of the Game: 8 Months Old

My Jimmy,

You and I are both awake tonight with the same hacking cough. It's this awful cold virus that has settled into our family, passing from one child to the next and finally landing to me over the course of 2 weeks. We've barely left our new 2 bedroom apartment over the last 10 days.


Meanwhile, you have practically turned into a new baby since you returned to us from Wisconsin and we began our adventure near the "Washington monument". You are eating full bowls of Cheerios for breakfast. You are up on all four limbs rocking about, getting ready to crawl when we put you on the rug or when we find you awake in the closet. You are smiling with exuberance at strangers. You are sitting up all by yourself! You have emerged as a baby, not an infant. You are changing. You are growing.


Jimmy, as I raise you children, I wonder more and more about the power of nature vs. nurture in the world. Why are my kids inclined to smile outwardly at others when many babies and children are introverted and shy? God has given all of us gifts, but it seems like I can do a lot to pull out the best in my children. I have taught you all to love those around you in a little way, by encouraging you to smile for strangers each time you meet them.

This may seem like a little thing, but now that I have three kids who look others in the eye and speak up when they're introduced to someone, I realize how unique this quality is. Unfortunately, our culture has a tendency to teach children to be afraid of strangers. I want you kids to realize that caution is important in every interaction you have with others...but I also want you to realize that there is good in every person you meet. There is no need to look down from fear or shame when you meet someone. Instead, look him in the eye and know that that person has gifts and beauty and love from God just as you do.

Jimmy, I am more in love with you now than you can possibly know until you have a son or daughter of your own. I am so proud to carry you nestled onto my hip, and I am so joyful tonight to cradle you against my chest, even while we're both so sick and exhausted. This is one of those moments of deep and powerful beauty in motherhood; one of the moments of fleeting joy that I pray I not forget as the years go on. This is one of those moments in which I realize why God has called me to be a mother to many children, and why, despite the true sacrifice and exasperation and sickness and sleeplessness motherhood brings, it is worth it.

It is so worth it.

I love you, Jimmy Jimster.

Your, Mama

(Imagine Me Holding Up 2 Pointer Fingers)

Dear Lucy,

2 years old!! I am bit late on your 2nd letter, and I'm sorry for it. You have already begun to changed since just a few weeks ago.

Who are you, my Lucy Louise? You are a light in our life. You're a silly, giggly girl who watches Mom with rapt attention. The other day I was looking at my feet critically, and I looked over at you to see you quietly mirroring my every look and motion. How often do you copy your Mama? You practice dusting the tables, sweeping the floors, putting your baby in his stroller, and making pie. Tommy went through this copy-cat phase, too, but somehow it seems stronger with my daughter.


As I type this letter, you are sitting at the kitchen table in our new apartment. Tommy just entered the room, and your funny little voice recognized him, "Did you wake up, Tom? Did you wake up?" This, too, is a phrase you're borrowed from Mama. You're a mimicking parrot, but the truth about Goose is that you are shockingly verbal for a 2 year old. You have a knack for language that is unique, Lucy. You can already look strangers in the eye with a smile and a kind word.


It was several months ago when I looked in my rear-view mirror to watch you interacting with Tommy. I remember that moment so crystal clear: it was the first time you both shared a conversation together. Now, these conversations are ongoing and everyday occurrences. (Unfortunately for Mom the Peacemaker, there have been a lot more arguments than chit-chat lately.)

You have a real love for your family, and are going through a stage in which you'll constantly repeat the names of members of our family, as if for reassurance. "And Daddy? And Mommy? And Jimmy? And Tommy? And Lucy?" You pause between each name to see if I nod. We recently went swimming at the gym's indoor waterpark, and since that day, you have a new (re-found) love for the pool. "Go swimming with Daddy today?" You ask me constantly. "Go swimming with Daddy soon!" You confirm.

Try as I might not to compare you to Tommy, I can't help but notice ways in which you are unique or similar. You are both very smart. You are both very verbal. You are both innately outgoing at this age, which is uncommon amongst your friends.

On the flip side, you are artistic, while Tommy struggles to hold a crayon for more than 2 seconds. You are proud and eager to sit down and work on coloring Curious George, Ben 10, or even a blank sheet of paper. You also seem to be more intuitively drawn to music than Tommy. I often catch you shaking your body to a song in the rear view mirror, or singing songs to yourself as you be-bop around the house.

I hope I can remember your toddler phase, Lucy. It already seems to be slipping away! The only problem with having such chatterboxes for kids is that you guys seem to grow up more quickly than your peers. I bet next week you'll be asking me if I've proactively made plans for our summer vacation.

(And Lucy, the answer to that? Of course I have.)

You're a twinkle in my eye, Miss Goose. I love you.

Your,
Mama

Apartment Rules

I haven't had much time to write lately, as we've moved out of our townhouse, attended a festive college wedding, dropped our kids halfway to Grandma's house, picked up our kids halfway to Grandma's house, watched John's little siblings in Wisconsin for a weekend, and dealt with vomiting, pink-eye, and massive head-colds all in the last 10 days.  Whew.   In addition to Lucy's birthday, friendship catastrophe, and more.

But.  (Here's the good part.)  I humbly offer to you the Top 10 Things about Living in An Apartment with 3 Kids under 4:

10. Really big dogs in the building are good grounds for scaring your children into not opening the door.
9. One bathroom is SO much easier to clean than three bathrooms.
8. If my kids defecate, puke, or spit up on the carpet, I just repeat to myself, "Not my carpet.  Not my carpet."
7. Small children in the neighborhood envy what they think is our "glamorous" and "ritzy" building.
6. Tommy can occupy himself watching the trashman load all the building trash into his garbage truck...right from our living room window.
5.  Long hallways are secretive and mysterious to small children.
4. We don't have to go outside to get the mail.
3. The newspaper is delivered to our inside door, just like in a fancy hotel.
2. We still live right down the road from our favorite cousins, preschool, and our church.

And the number one best thing about living in a temporary apartment is:

1.  Every day, the kids love to take our trash bags to the "trash chute" at the end of the hall.  Does anyone else get to throw their trash down a chute? 

Awesome.

---

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Sudden

The scurrying and the fumbling and the screaming and the packing and the spilling and the playing and the screaming and the whining and the laughing and the hugging and the snuggling and the singing and the jumping and the dancing and the life.

They're out the door. They're gone in an instant.

And with them, our home.

Goodbye, Shamrock kids!! Goodbye!

Emotion

It hit me as I was packing up Jimmy's diapers and tiny clothing. And I realized that we'd probably only change another 2 or 3 of his diapers in this house.

Heart Shaped Dance Party?

You gotta have a dance party on Valentine's Day morning.  That's what I'm doing right now, to celebrate the people I love in this little townhouse.  On my playlist:

"See the World" (Gomez)
"American Boy" (Estelle)
"Be My Valentine" (Anne Carraux, as recalled from the days of jr. high singing telegrams)
"Love Story" (Taylor Swift)

I am totally a VDay junkie.  So far, to celebrate:
-Let Tommy select the most masculine valentines on the market (Iron Man, 5 wks ahead)
-Made a Valentine's Day mailbox with the kids so we could amass constructed valentines (2 wks ahead)
-Began planning John's valentine: a slideshow of pictures from our townhouse years, complete with a cover song "More Time" (Need to Breathe) with me on vocals and Chris, my brother, on guitar
-Bought John a secondary VDay gift with the critical aid of my sister (1 wk ahead)
-Ordered a heart cake from the local bakery (1 wk ahead)
-Delivered valentines to my nieces and nephews (1 day ahead)*
-Mailed valentines and DVD project to close family members (1 day ahead)
-Ordered a heart pizza, on sale from Papa Murphys for $7.99
-Couldn't wait, so I unveiled the DVD project to John early (1 night ahead)
-Couldn't wait, so I received my valentine from John early (basket of goodies we ate while we lived in Spain, including the best ever spread, Nutella)
-Had the kids pull their valentines out of the homemade mailbox (AM)
-Had the kids open their daddy-selected tiny valentine gifts, including Mr. Incredible stickers and festive socks (AM)

And then, the current moment: dance party.
Yet to come:
-Heart pizza, Heart cake.

And, more importantly, a whole lotta sappy fam love.  :) :) :)

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!! 
*A special Valentine wish goes out to my nephew, Will, who had the pukes yesterday and had to miss his 1st grade Valentine party.  At least for this year, Will, you can still be my Valentine.  You are growing up too fast, kid.


A Few of my Valentines:

My main squeeze, who is attractive not only because he's so handsome, but also because he's such a great Dad:

Sassy Mexicasserole

I am trying to use up most of our canned and pantry goods before we move, so things are getting creative around here. I actually came up with something pretty good tonight.

Sassy Mexicasserole

Ingredients
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 C jasmine rice, uncooked
1 jar of green Mexican enchilada sauce (about 8-10 oz.)
1 can Cream of Chicken soup
1 C water
1 medium tomato, diced
1 small can mild green chiles

Mix rice, water, soup, chiles (I used only 1/2 can for a milder flavor), and enchilada sauce in the bottom of a 9 x 12 casserole dish. Place chicken breasts on top of this mixture. Sprinkle about 1 t salt over the dish and then sprinkle on the tomato. Bake about 1 hr at 375 or until chicken is done and rice looks done, as well. I flipped the chicken once during the process. I cooked the dish uncovered for the first 45 minutes, then covered it for the remaining time to preserve moisture.

Yum! The result is an easy dish that my husband claimed was near "restaurant quality!" It may be that we've been eating a lot of takeout food lately, but I'll take that kind of praise any day!

Clothing Philosophy in Practice

I once had a friend who was a total clothes horse. Her closet was like a magical world brimming with designer pants, shirts, and shoes. In fact, her wardrobe was so extensive that this girl could quite literally go several months without repeating an outfit combination---and she LOVED it.

As much as I was jealous of this friend, we just didn't share the same wardrobing philosphy. I would love to own a closet of designer clothes, but even if I did veer away from my usual equation of Target + Old Navy + Gap, I wouldn't ever be the kind of person who wore different things each day. I love my staple outfits. I wear a pair of corduroys until they are frayed and desperately worn. I cling to a workout shirt until my sister says she's embarrassed to be seen with me at the gym while I'm wearing it.

What's your wardrobe philosophy? What does your closet look like? Are you constantly trying to feign some order (like in my closet), or are you one of those people whose shirt line up in a pristine manner, organized by type and color and usefulness (like my dear husband!)?

Neiiiigh

"Lookit!  It's a horsey!" Lucy says, holding up her cinnamon toast.  Indeed, it looks like a little colt.

"Neiiiiiigh!!"

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Mrs. O-So Stylish & PC

I have acquired a new guilty pleasure at Mrs. O. Our elegant first lady is worth following for fashion tips, although she has made a few off-the-rack blunders. In the political arena, though, I am already starting to take issue with her PCism. Consider this quote on the balance for women in the workplace with family life:

“And the one thing — the one message that I have is for all of you struggling with this issue, is just remember there is no right answer. It took me a long time to figure that out. There is no one right way to do any of this. And the choices and the decisions will change, given your circumstances.”

I become disgruntled with people who won't agree to some absolutes in life. There are absolutes in life. To give people the impression that your career can come before your family is wrong. To let parents think their children will not suffer if they are never home with them is wrong. Perhaps there is some leeway for parents as financial or other constraints emerge, but the truth is this: when you're a parent, you have to put your family first.

Mrs. O, step it up. You are a family woman, and it's time to tell us what makes YOUR family work well...not that any possible ingredient combination can serve up perfect family apple pie.


Note: You can read the entirety of Mrs. O's address at Howard University here.

A Bouncing Baby Boy

Dear Jimmy,

My seven month old. I am a few days late on your letter...I am sorry, my son. This has been a hectic and exciting time for our little family. We sold our townhouse and are preparing to move temporarily into an apartment. I am sure that, to you kids, this move will measure low on the radar screen. You will probably think nothing of moving your rattles and baby spoons four blocks north of here. To your father and me, though, this move represents our journey to a home with a yard for our family. We are eager to see you kids run through the grass and spread your wings a little bit. We are eager for just a little more elbow room to grow.

You are a beautiful boy, my Jimmy. Everyone says so! It's hard not to notice your wide eyes and contagious smile. On the inside, you also have qualities that shine, Jimmy. Each time you awaken, you are quiet and content to be alone. This is different from your brother, Tom, and your sister, Lucy. Oftentimes, I hear you kicking around and laughing to yourself long before you want anyone to retrieve you from your bassinet. What does this mean, baby Jim? Are you going to be the kind of boy who needs a little more time by yourself?

I am teaching a 4th grade class at church this year, and am so happy to be doing it. Working with 10 year olds, oddly enough, gives me more inspiration to be a great mom for you kids. Sometimes the days are so long when I'm changing poopy diapers, teaching you kids numbers, singing songs, making lunch, scrubbing the floors, cleaning up toys. It's easy for me to forget how important this work is. When I go into the 4th grade classroom, though, I see such an amazing class of kids---all due to their parents' hard work raising them. Each child has his own talent and gift from God. I know that my job is to help cultivate your talents, Jimmy. I hope I can help you find them and use them in the best way.

Sometimes I wonder if either of my boys will grow up to be a priest, Jimmy. Maybe that seems like a strange thing for a modern mother to wonder, but certainly, I do. I hope that by the time you can read this letter, you already know and respect the work priests do. I hope that you also think about the joys and blessings God puts in their lives in return. God calls us each to a special vocation in life. What will yours be?

Your development from the sixth to seventh month has been pointed in many ways. You are rolling over quickly and with agility now. You sometimes get up on all four limbs. You want things in a way you didn't want them last month. You remember toys that fall down off your high chair. You jump like crazy in your Exersaucer...much like your cousin, Will, used to do. This, too, is different from our other kids. You are not the same baby as Tom or Lucy. You will have your own place to shine.

Well, dear Jimmy, it's very late and your mom should be in bed. I just wanted to take this time to tell you how very much I love you. I could kiss your sweet little toes all day. I could smell your soft head each moment. But Jimmy, if you keep on pooping 3 times daily, I am going to have to draw a line.

To the moon and back, my littlest bug.

Your,
Mama

1,2,3

Today was one of those days of being a mom that was totally beautiful. If you are a mom, you know that any "totally beautiful" day still has a fair share of poopy diapers and tantrums. Nonetheless, I present three moments:

1-I carried Jimmy down in the morning to find Tom and Lucy snuggled up on the couch. Feeding Jim his bottle, I commented to no one in particular, "Isn't this kid the cutest." "Yeah, he is," Tom replied. "And Elmo, too."

2-Jimmy is on his 2nd day of eating the tiniest tad of banana slice you've ever seen. It's really just a little mushpod on my finger. I put it on his tongue today and his eyes gleened over immediately, as if to say, "Mom, finally. I weep that you finally acknowledged my yearning."

3-Lucy and I took a trip to the mall with Grandpa this morning, and somehow, her beloved Bunny Baby ended up taking a swim in the wishing well. Bunny Baby, a blue and well-worn friend, was in need of dire washing anyway, so Lucy had to make do at bedtime with borrowing Monkey Baby from Tom. When Tom went to bed himself, though, he cried out for Monkey. Moments later, Lucy called out to John. John went into her room and she held out Monkey, "Tommy needs his monkey, Dad." And that was that.

Stranger Opportunities

On a recent trip (which, oddly enough, I haven't commented on here), I read an article about a young woman who made a new year's resolution to start noticing people around her.  I found this article intriguing because it is easy to go through life consumed by yourself and your own problems.  As a mother, I find this to be magnified somewhat for several reasons:

First, I am a stay at home mom.  This may not be obvious to everyone, because a lot of stay at home moms today are really movers and shakers, but in my particular life juncture, this is a virtual impossibility.  I can barely take my 3 kids out in public alone, lest one or all of them have a total breakdown.  In fact, at the mall several weeks ago, Lucy literally broke down and laid on the ground outside of Barnes & Noble for five minutes while I waited for her to ready herself for the next step...walking outside to the car.  Yes, I just waited.  I calmly watched her, because I realize that these tantrums are pretty much inevitable and I also have suffered the consequences of trying to pull a "limp" tantrum kid with one arm out the door.  (It's called Nursemaid's Elbow, and you have to go to the ER for it.)  This is unrelated and unimportant at the current moment, though.   What I mean to say is that in this occupation, it's easy to isolate yourself because taking your kids out in public requires an almost insurmountable amount of patience and energy.

Secondly, you've got people.  Little people (per a posting earlier this year) give me reason to be selfish and self-absorbed.  It's not good, it's not right...but somehow, it seems more justifiable to be wrapped up in your own life when it's not just YOUR problems, it's the problems of a family.

Anyway, back to the center of the story...

I believe the girl I read about had it figured out.  Life is not meant to be self-consuming...it is meant to be self-giving.  We are supposed to see the uniqueness God put in other people.  Here are a few I have met just this week:

1.) Subway Sandiwich Guy:  SSG was a man I met at our local Caribou Coffee this week when I stopped in to research interim housing for my family on the wifi network.  SSG was standing in line, waiting for iced coffee next to me, when I noticed he had a footlong subway sandwich sitting on his table...at 9:30 in the morning. "Is that your sandwich?" I asked.  He nodded.  "It looks pretty good," I continued. "Actually, looking at that sandiwich at 9:30 AM kind of makes me want to go to Subway."

The man turned to me and smiled.  "Well, when you've been up since 5 AM like me, it's already lunchtime."  I chuckled.  We went onto to talk about how the older you get, the earlier you wake up.  You go to bed earlier, too, apparently.  I told him this was cause for concern, in my case, because John and I already go to bed around 9 PM at age 27.

2.) Really Good Haircut Girl:  RGHC is a young woman who cuts my hair at my salon.  She's really good, hence the name.  I actually am bothered by the fact that she's good, because I prefer not to be loyal to hairstylists as they make their way up the cost brackets.  Why set yourself up for a $60 haircut in the future??

Anyway, RGHC was a delight today.  She is boisterous and candid and beautiful in her manner of conduct.  She is a bit impulsive, always searching for the next great leap in her life.  I learned all this just by meeting her over 2 haircuts.  She's quite remarkable, really.  Today we had a great discussion about what complementary qualities are necessary in a long-term mate. 

Who are you going to meet today that could bring joy into your life?  What joy can you bring into a stranger's life?  At Faith Formation this week, I challenged my students to think about how smiling and saying hi to a fellow student  can make that person have a better day.  I challenge you, too.  God put strangers around us for a reason.  Perhaps, instead of calling them "strangers," we should view them as opportunities.

I'm hoping to make my stranger opportunities a regular feature of this blog.  People can bring beautiful things into our lives.

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Girl Power

So, of course I'm jealous that my sister is having another girl. Isn't it funny how jealously is so rampant among siblings? I'm not jealous in that bad, angry kind of way. I'm just jealous because sisterly relationships can be so beautiful and fulfilling throughout life. As can mother-daughter relationships.

I have a friend (who reads my blog, so, this one's for you, Kate) who has a sister very close to her in age. I can recall how, in their home, the bathroom counter was clustered with every divine beauty product a girl could imagine. What a great bathroom. To me, it seemed like every morning (or afternoon, or evening) had that fun let's-get-ready together vibe that I shared with my college roommates.

Some of that fun is lost when you get ready alone. You've no one to inspect and comment on your eyeliner technique, no one to critically comment on whether your Assets are holding things together enough under that silk dress.

Is there a girl up for adoption so I can do this without another pregnancy?

Seriously, though. My comment was a bit lighthearted, but John and I have kicked around this idea many times in the last year. We LOVE kids. I Hate pregnancy. And, there are so many kids waiting.

Lull Diddy Dull

Ugh. The winter blahs are killing me. While I sit around waiting to hear if we can buy our new house. While I sit around waiting to find out if we're going to be homeless. While I sit around waiting for my baby-sitter to arrive at 5 o'clock.

I decided to shake things up a bit last night by dyeing my hair superdark. Awesome. It is a bit dramatic, but it definitely infuses some excitement into my life for the current time period. I note that dyeing your hair darker seems to have the effect of softening it, which is not to my liking. I rather prefer the "hardening" effect of bleach on my hair. Hmm. Something you may not have considered in your day.

In other news, I am teaching 4th grade Faith Formation this year at my church, and this is the reason for a baby-sitter tonight. I love my class. The kids are so innocent and yet on the verge of true philosophical capability. It is interesting that these kids actually refresh me at the end of a day full of my rambunctious little people.

I am experiencing the Winter Blahs with my Faith Formation lesson plans, though, and so, tonight we need to dye the proverbial lesson plan superdark. We are switching it up by making Stations of the Cross illustrated reflection books.

The Wisdom of a (soon-to-be) Saint

This week is sure to be crazy, as we prepare to close on our townhome and settle into a period of unknown waiting for our other home bid.  I have a mental list and an ink list about a mile long.  Just wanted to share some wisdom that a friend passed onto me this morning.  The quote is from Mother Theresa:

"Riches, material or spiritual ones, sometimes smother us when we do not use them rightly... So remain as 'empty' as possible, so that God may fill you up. Even God cannot fill up something that is already full. He does not impose Himself upon us... I have to empty myself of all selfishness to let God fill me with His love."

This is something I must constantly attend to: to rid my mind and soul of selfishness.  It is so easy for me to think of which bathroom tiles I want, which vacations I want, which Baby Gap clothes I want.  It is so easy to think of giving later and getting now.  How do we all find the right balance in our lives?  How can I be selfless and yet feel secure that my family is safe and comfortable?

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On Home & Its Heart

It's time for the big announcement, my friends:  John and I accepted an offer on our townhouse.  At first, I felt only excitement and relief.  Now, in a fleeting quiet after bedtime and before John returns from a rare evening work function, I feel different.  Reflective.  Sad.

I'm quite emotional when it comes to the home.  I hang onto every memory and stage in the place it happened.  On Grand Avenue, we shared our wedding night and my water breaking.  We slept in on Sunday mornings and kept a crib, for a time, in the kitchen.  Then, there was a period where we lived at my parents' house.  That was the time of Tommy's true babyhood: first crawling, reading, playing, laughing, talking, and walking.

And then, on the day when the paint of our bedroom was baby blue and we were just about ready to move in here, we found out Lucy would come.  What a wonderful moment!  The adventure began.  It's been such a long and short journey in this home.  Our family has flourished and stretched and cried and laughed.  We welcomed Jimmy, we grew to love our community.  That's why, after careful thought and many, many hours of conversing, John and I decided to call this city our home.

We bid on a house less than one mile away!

People are attached to their homes, certainly, and I know that when the days of final packing and moving come, there will be tears in saying goodbye to Shamrock.  But what adventures are before us still!  So much more growth and surprise and wonder for our family.  So much more unknown.

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Signs You Have More Than One Kid

"Moooooooom!!!! Lucy's eating the icky toilet water!!!!"

Unflinching, I casually walk upstairs.  "Lucy, that's icky.  Don't drink the toilet water."

Enough said.

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Warning

If you are doing laundry in a hurry, do not throw your MP3 player in with the wash. 

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The Things They Say

Lucy, when I told her it was time to leave the gym daycare center:

"I'm busy, Mom.  Working on the computer!!"

Tom, when I told him he needed to go upstairs for playtime:

"You just have to trust me, Mom.  You just have to trust me."

Jim, all day long:

"Mama!  Mama! Mamamamama!"

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Negotiation Tactics

My Dad has always been one who can get people to do the things he wants them to do.  Don't get me wrong:  this is not a negative attribute.  It's an asset.

Anyway, I just noticed that the Army stole his mantra for negotiation:  Keep thinking about it.

What a great commercial.  The kid (a young man, really) wants to join the Army and comes to his Mom to say he's thought over the decision again, and isn't going to change his mind.  It's the right thing for him, he says.  His Mom says, "I know."

"Then why'd you want me to keep thinking about it?"

And she responds, "Because I'm your Mom, and it's my job."

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Jimmy Crack Corn!!

I was filling up the bins with baby food this morning when I heard it again:

"Mama!!"

What a heart-breaker!!  Here I come, Jimster!

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HR Training for Desperate Housewife?

It's occurred to me lately that I've become rather insensitive.  Judgmental, also.  These are not very attractive traits.  Not the type of traits one wants to admit on her blog.

How did I become this way?  At one time, I think I was quite sensitive.  Somehow, in becoming a mom, I've gotten more set in my ways and less open to the ways of others.

One of my New Year's resolutions is to work on this not-so-becoming occurrence.  I need to put myself in other people's shoes.  I need to remember we are all from God, and that my job is to do the best I can do for God.

And yet.  (Here's the "but" for this one.)

Something about being a mom makes judgment different than it was in the past.  I guess, since I'm responsible for my kids and also for the influence around them, I feel my judgment is somehow justified.  My political views become a tirade, because I think about how my kids will navigate this world.

Still, my inner instinct says I've gotten a bit out of hand with my critical attitude towards others.  In a multi-faceted effort to chill out (other facets will have to await a later date for description), here I go.

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Phobic Tom

I swear I didn't do it to him. Clowns are just weird. The other morning, Tom delivered an unsettling description of a dream he'd had more than once:

The dark clown was baaaaack, Mom!! Not the nice clown, but the dark one. And then, the good clown attacked him and fought him off.

It's alarming that things can creep into your child's life without your permission. I remember that once, as I child, I woke up and wandered into the living room long after everyone had gone to bed. I turned on the TV to check out what was on, and I saw some disturbing shootout involving a skeleton. Or, at least, my young mind perceived it to be a skeleton. And then there was the time I dreamed that my mom was melting into the new armchair....

Imagination is so vivid in childhood. Tommy really believes there are dinosaur-sized monsters lurking outside sometimes, that there are ghosts hiding in our stairwell.

The Mayhem Unfolded

I meant to bring my camera to the MN Zoo today, but once we got there, I quickly realized that casual photography wasn't on the list of possibilities. Oh, yes: Sarah and I were there with our SIX CHILDREN UNDER SIX. And one in utero. (Thank goodness it's not in my utero; I appreciate her so much more in Sarah's womb!!)

Many times amidst the chaos, I stopped to laugh to myself. How many people could handle an adventure like this one? How many people could feed Jimmy a bottle while corralling Wally and the Goose past the monkey windows and down to the shark tank? How many people could open five Lunchables in five seconds and sprint to catch Lucy as she snuck off to the Tropics exhibit? How many people could slip in a little geography lesson for Will & Tom while strapping a screaming Goose into her stroller because the girl removed her shoes and socks for the sixth time today? I even had time to pamper Claudia with a little blush and lip gloss.

You can't make up this kind of chaos, people.

I am so thankful that the infancy stage (while beautiful) is over, and that Jimmy is a bit easier to handle these days. I'm feeling myself again, able to discover energy and laughter in places others might not find it. I'm remembering why I am a mother and why family is such an important part of my life.

Did I mention my sister is having a girl?! I can't wait to meet her.

From the Depth of my Soul

Do you ever drag yourself out of bed in the morning and wish your home were a remote Starbucks location?

Sigh.

Remember That I Said This

Quitting nursing has sent me into some kind of weird, emotional stage. (Or else I'm just going to get my period for like the 4th time in our marriage.) I want to remember each little thing the kids are doing right now---how Tommy so kindly helps Lucy get all the right toys out to set up her babydoll collection, how Lucy's hair is finally long enough to be in little pigtail tufts, how Jimmy rolls over in bassinet in the morning to great me with a huge, drool-y grin.

Yea, I guess I am in love with these bugs.

On the Subject of Preschool

Right now I am reading a humorous account of the life of a New York stay-at-home mom entitled, "What Do You Do All Day?"  I remember when I only had Tommy, people would ask me that question all the time.  Now, I actually don't have much time to associate with people who don't have a fairly good concept of what I do all day.

(I don't have much against those people.  Not **much.**)

Anyway, one of the funny running themes in this book is the race for prestigious schooling for your child.  Shall he wear knickers and attend SuchAndSuch Fabulous School, which your ancestors attended?  Shall he wear stripes and attend ThisandThat Preppy School, assured to bring out his Ivy League Potential?  Or should he attend Tommy's school, where I know all the teachers personally and am so happy to have Tommy come home with dinosaurs-on-a-stick, so that we can later make puppet shadows of them on our hallway walls?

Haha, that did actually happen this week.  You can't make it up, people.

It's the season for sickness and preschool enrollment, so my MOMS Club members are sending around emails to gain insight into the prestigious options of our neighborhood.  Ahem.  I'd better watch my footing now so that my comments do not head in any.offensive.direction.

Why not let kids explore what they love at this age?  Why not use preschool for play, and jump off that curriculum with continued learning at home?  Why not let them be kids a little bit longer?

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Fact

Don't get me wrong:  My husband is a very clean person.  In fact, in some regards, he is cleaner than I am.

But.  (There always is one, isn't there?)

Something about husbands prevents them from being the nighttime surveyor.  Wives, you know what I mean.  The nighttime surveyor is the one who surveys the kitchen before bedtime to make sure the counters are cleared off and ready for the next day's piles of stuff.

Particularly clear of a plate of uncovered, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies that will go stale if left fully overnight, and so must be eaten by an insomniac wife.

I'm such a martyr for my family.

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Am I Rookie, Or What?

The answer to this one is an obvious yes.  I have be bemoaning the television, swearing that in 2009, I won't let the kids watch so much TV.  I'd forgotten entirely about something major that kids LOVE, that takes up tons of TIME, and that makes almost every activity more FUN;

music.

Seriously, is this my first five minutes of being a mom, or what?

I picked up a few kids' CDs at the library last week, and finally got around to hooking up my old CD player in Tommy's room this morning.  We spent an hour dancing around, pretending there were spiders crawling on the floor, and rhyming to the songs like crazy.  Now this is quality time, people.

Roku, you're on a break.

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Six Months

Dear Jimmy,

I have been meaning to write you for so long now, and the time has just run away from me. Procrastination, I suppose. It's not always a bad thing, though: while the house isn't exactly "pristine" at this moment and I'm not current on all my projects, I look back on these last weeks quite happy to have spent so much time really enjoying my three little bugs.



Oh, Jimster. You are an age that is so wondrous right now. Every moment, your giggles and your innocence and your jump, jump, jumping in the Exersaucer seem to catch me as so beautiful and perfect. You lay on your tummy and are just enraptured by whatever is beside you. You think each different fabric is a masterpiece to be memorized. You're learning, baby, probably faster than you ever will again.


Daddy and I are in our usual competition to get you to say "Mama" or "Dada" first, and wow, Dad won by a longshot this time. It seems you're burbling, "DADADADA!" every time I walk into the room. How does he do it? You've also discovered your tongue lately, and seem quite proud to be able to stick it out whenever you want.

And the EATING, Jimmy! You only started eating rice cereal about a month ago, but now your appetite just can't be fulfilled. Last week, you ate about 4 meals of baby food per day. I couldn't spoon it in fast enough, so you cried out between each bite. Have I had such a starving baby before? Your long legs are stretching further, and your beautiful, lean tummy is starting to show the tiniest bit of that baby fat. Oh, Jimmy. You are a lady killer. One look in those big eyes of yours sends me to the moon.

I hope I can be a great Mom for you. I hope I can help you understand how much you are loved by God and by your family, James Eric. I want so much for you---so much learning, so much experience, so much joy. I want you to realize the satisfaction in working hard for something, and to stop, then, to enjoy the stillness around you.

And yet, my son, it is evident to me that none of those things can matter without God and without family. So know this, Jimmy: I am praying for you every day.

I love you always!

Mama

How My Goose Is

Lucy is our mild child. Thank goodness. When I say mild, I don't mean she's sedate...or even obedient, entirely. We don't seem to have the genes for that in our family. By mild, I mean that Lucy sleeps all night. She rolls with the punches. When trouble befalls her, she just picks up and moves on.

At lunch bunch this week, Lucy and several toddlers were be-bopping down the stairs together when a slowdown of traffic occurred. I'm not sure who fell first, but suddenly several tiny people bumbled down the steps. I heard Lucy's friend, Bam-Bam cry, and then moments later, we heard a loud WHACK. Lucy had fallen head-first into the corner of a wooden column. Lucy cried for a few moments, but in pure Lucy fashion, she pretty much struggled to get free and continue playing as I attempted to press cloth onto her forehead and stop the bleeding (which, incidentally, was not as profuse as I would have expected).

Maybe because Lucy was so calm, or maybe because I'm sick of being in a waiting room with kids, I didn't really see the need to go to the doctor. As the bleeding slowed, the other mothers gathered around Lucy in a flurry of concern. "Stitches!" they proclaimed. "Band-aid glue!" they offered. Suddenly, everyone wanted to help and my son was carted away from the scene and I was on the road to the ER again.

I'm convinced that Lu is the most easy-going toddler the doctors have ever stitched up. She sat in my arms, holding bunny baby and sucking her thumb, practically unrestrained, as the doctor sewed a needle through her forehead---twice. And then she said, "Thank you, doctor!" as he left the room.

What the Teacher Says

I just returned from Lucy's playgroup, where several of the moms discussed recent parent-teacher conferences for their pre-schoolers. Don't teachers know that moms (especially first-time ones) get worked up about these information sessions? Don't they know we all want to hear a little bit of good about our children with the bad?

The theme of several of these conferences seemed to be turning introverted kids into extroverts. The moms involved felt badly, as if they hadn't done a good enough job socializing their child in pre-school preparation. What? Pre-school preparation? Taught socialization? Aren't some of these things supposed to be natural?

For moms out there with shy children, don't fret. You child is not alone, and is not even a minority in being shy. Almost ALL the kids in Tommy's pre-school class are introverted. They are little sweethearts who have to warm up to someone before answering questions or giving a hug. And this is not a bad thing.

I have often said my kids could use a good shot o' shy. They would walk away with any stranger who had candy or promised them a quarter to ride the mall fire engine.

Sigh. If only the teachers knew how much of our time is spent worrying. Perhaps they'd change their tactics...

Talking Phenom

Don't tell everyone I'm bragging, but Lucy really is a talking phenom. Here are some of the things she's said to me in the last 24 hours. Remember---she's only 21 months.

"I want Mommy's cereal! I'm hungry!!"

"Jimmy's crying, Mom. Why??"

"I want a drink!! All gone. Want more!!"

"Where Tommy go? Tommy's at school."

Seriously, people. Just sign her up for Genius Club.

Growing Up

The other night, Tommy and I went on our usual adventure to the library. Except it wasn't usual, because the winter had darkened the skies. And we were alone. We are rarely alone in the car, Tommy and I. Usually there's a Jimmy screaming and a snooking Lucy along.

Tommy was nervous about the darkness. "It's nighttime, Mom! The library will be locked." He was surprised when I grabbed his hand and we raced past the dried-up fountain into the warm light of an open library.

We read together, late at night. Tommy snuggled into my lap and chose a book about tigers and another about an umbrella. This second book was written unusually, in broken English, from the perspective of a Japanese immigrant. She wrote about her daughter's first umbrella, something she longed to use. Something she waited for and finally attained.

And then, in the end, the broken English revealed something that clutched at my heart: in using her umbrella the first time, this little girl had her first experience of walking up and down the streets without holding either her mom and dad's hand.

And then I realized that Tommy has already had that experience this fall, without me even consciously planning it.

Where does it go? How do kids make that leap from toddler to kid? He did it when I wasn't looking. He did it by taking screwdrivers to the underside of telephone cradles, to figure out how they worked. He did it by sneaking baking chocolates upstairs, not knowing his stealthy move wouldn't be tasty. He did it by running off to school each morning, unafraid, into Mrs. McDonald's room to learn about God and frogs and sharing.

He's a real boy now.

Cuatro

Dear Jimmy,

My sweetheart is four months old! I know you are growing because your strong legs have lengthened, and your skinny fingers seem almost as long as Lucy's. You are kicking and moving your arms all the time. You haven't rolled over since your first few rolls, but I bet you will be back to that in no time.

This month has been exciting for all of us, as you've become more animated and interested in the world around you. You laugh for Daddy, and you squeal when Lucy or Tommy run to your side. They love to sit by you when you're exercising underneath your new Scary Bear equipment. Of course, Mama is still your No. 1. I have that captivating affect on babies when I'm their sole nourishment. :)


While you've been practicing moving and making new sounds, the rest of the country has been preoccupied with the recent presidential election. Although Dad and I didn't vote for him, President-elect Barack Obama is surely making history in our nation as the first African American on his way to the oval office. We disagree with some of his policies, but we can not deny that this feat is an amazing step towards acknowledging the dignity shared by all human life. Hopefully that theme can continue on in many ways through his term.

The world has changed in many ways since your birth, Jimmy. People are worried right now for the future. The economy is in a slump unseen since the Great Depression. We don't really know how bad things could get, or when they will improve.

One thing that hasn't changed, though, is that the gift of life---in the form of a baby---can life spirits and bring joy. Wherever I take you, people sigh and smile to see your tiny form. Whenever you gurgle, you melt away a bit of discontent and offer us older souls a small, new beginning. I suppose this is reflected, too, in your Baptism.


It is late, my Jimmy. You are sleeping soundly upstairs, sucking your fingers and perfectly content in your bassinet. Daddy and Tom and Lucy sleep, too, and that I shall do in a moment.

But I love you, Jimmy. I want you to know that even when I'm exhausted and tired, my heart is beating for you. My little Jimster. It seems to go faster all the time.

Yours,
Mama

A Life-Changing Morning

From my Facebook status:

Anne just broke the news to Tommy. I tried to tell him Obama was a good man, but he claimed, "I don't WANT that man!! I want John McCain!!"

An Attempt

Sometimes I long for adult conversation during the day.

Me: So, Tom, who do you think will be our next president?
Tom: [sighs] I don't want to talk about it!!!
Me: [waiting to hear profound insight] Why not?
Tom: I'm eating these goldfish!!!

Behavior Corrections Facility

I once heard that in order for a kid to get used to a particular new food, you have to put it in front of him a dozen times. That may not seem like a lot, but a dozen times really IS a lot in the scheme of meal rotation.

I have come to see the truth in this, and I believe the theory should also be extended---perhaps to the infinite degree---to include toddler behavior correction. Before I became a mom, no one ever told me that I would spend the whole day telling shut-ears not to jump on the couch.

But it makes a difference. I really believe it does. I now understand that my kids greet people in public because they have learned this behavior. Just this morning, Tommy sat absorbed in The Incredibles, quite obtuse to the fact that Lucy had woken up and joined us for the day. It took me about 3 reminders for Tommy to say, "Good morning" to her. And finally, when he did, Lucy's face lit up and she bubbled along like the Goose tends to do.

Maybe this sort of obsessive correction is what we really need in the other behavioral facilities.

Whoooooosh

Such is the sound of Tommy running out of the bathroom. He's always in a hurry to get the job done. Lately, he's developed an amusing fear of listening to the toilet flush. In our small downstairs bathroom, he holds onto the door handle while flushing the toilet so that he can flush and shut the door as quickly as possible.

Forward and Back: 3 Months

Dear Jimmy,

My littlest bug. You are 3 months old tomorrow, and already, your namesake, my Grandpa, is gone.

Grandpa lived his 86 years to their fullest potential, and so, my Jimmy, you have a large legacy to maintain. Will you raise a generation of children? Will you work in the yard, toiling and snowblowing into your final year? Will you concoct a precise system for growing perfect tomatoes using PVC pipe, old t-shirts, and (pointedly vacant) recycling bins?

We were lucky to visit with Grandpa in the final month of his life. I wanted you to know him, Jimmy: to understand the thrill of riding the handmade, backyard swing at lightening speed, and to marvel that it had its own telephone. To run into the dining room and pause to select your favorite of treats from the candy shoppe. To taste the tangy pickles. To laugh at the bird tweeting beautifully from above Grandpa's comfy chair.

Grandpa was a model for us all, really. Devoted as a husband, Grandpa understood what a full-time job his wife had in raising her many children. He kept the fun in their marriage by bowling with her on a regular basis, and by sweeping her away to Nevis for vacation in their later, child-rearing years. I imagine their romance was alive til the end... I will never forget the snap of Grandma's purse opening or closing as she reached in to retrieve her standby shade of precise red lipstick.

A life pulses and breathes, Jimmy. And at its end, a life catches us off-guard, filling our hearts with memory and beauty and wonder.

I hope I can be a mother as he was a father. He kept his arms and home open to his children, showing us all how parenting only grows with children, never ceasing. Nothing could surprise Grandpa. By his final years, he had seen every joy and tragedy of life. He took a look at you, Jimmy, and said, "He looks like he'll make it." Then he waited for the next great joy of life to come, and it did. The birth of Peter, the conception of another great-grandchild.

Though I hated pregnancy, Grandpa never understood why I wanted it to end. After all, kids are much less trouble on the inside, he told me. :)

I saw the wisdom in Grandpa's life. He built his home as he needed it, he indulged when it truly fancied him (which wasn't that often). He poured cream on his cereal and answered requests without pretenses. He didn't seem to worry about what others thought. And yet, he did invest in God. He faithfully cared for his family, and cared for his family to realize God is the source of all our life.

It seems fitting that in the last month of Grandpa's life, Jimmy, you were baptized at a church where he attended high school.

I know this month's letter is a lot about Grandpa and a little about you, Jimmy. But now that you're smiling and looking around and starting to understand this world,
I am sure you will see the beauty in that.

Love,
Mama

Two Scenes

Scene I:
It is before dawn, and the room is still. A thick drowsiness hangs in the air. There is the faint smell of slumber and a calming blue on the walls. You trip as you stumble through the room. There are a dozen pillows tucked into every corner. There are ten tiny blankets strewn on the floor.

Scene II:
It is after lunch, and the hallway is empty. The curtains have been drawn in each room upstairs, and the quiet buzz of fans calls you into slumber. Every toy is in its place, and a book of nursery rhymes awaits on the couch. It is peaceful. It smells clean and fresh and relieving, nourishing.


These are the scenes that repeat day in and day out. I hope I never forget them. The first seems so fleeting; it is just this period of early morning after feeding a newborn, when the bedroom is "undone" and no one has slept much through the night. The second is more regular, a picture of how I prepare the upstairs for naptime.

Insufficient Extremities

Some tasks are hard to do 1-handed. I've learned to type while nursing a baby, and to occasionally stir a pot. But this morning, Jimmy was screaming because Lucy woke up and insisted on trying out her new potty skills again...potty-training should not be combined with feeding, 1-handed or otherwise. Then, imagine you're nursing while your 2 toddlers are scarfing down syrup-drenched waffles. One dumps her milk out, and then they both try to bolt from the table with stickiness oozing everywhere.

Sigh.

I feel for poor Jimmy. He is forced to take breaks from eating often...in the sticky situations I encounter such as the one outlined above, or in violent situations such as when one sibling is biting or attacking another, or in potty fiascos, or...well, any number of daily, momentary crises.

Hopefully, this will not greatly affect his outlook on life.

Life in Mc D-O-N-A-L-D-S World

Today marked a new and exciting phase in our eldest's life. Tommy started pre-school! I will post picture later of Tommy proudly sporting his Twins backpack, heading into school looking excited and ready to take on the world. I thought maybe his nerves would get the better of him, but this weekend, he told me, "Mom, Mrs. McDonald will be excited to see me tomorrow!"

This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?

My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.

As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.

All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.

It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.

Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.