What I have learned from my clothesline

In August, just as I had gotten completely caught up with my laundry (really!), my dryer stopped working. It wouldn't turn on at all.

Scott is a can-do kind of guy. Why pay someone else to fix something when you can do it yourself? With the help of the amazing internet, Scott has fixed and installed loads of things around our place and in our cars, saving us untold hundreds of dollars in repair costs.

So, Scott took it apart. He cleaned all of the lint out of the inside of the dryer, the whole exhaust line, and any other place you can think of. We had cleaned out the line before, and I always empty the lint trap, but over 10 years lint gets EVERYWHERE!!!!!!! He thought we needed a new thermo-thing-whatever-it-is (a safety part that makes sure your dryer doesn't get too hot and set your house on fire). It's designed to fail as soon as the inside of the dryer by the motor gets too hot. It is not fixable, so it has to be replaced. Presumably, when replacing the thermo-thing, one would also notice all that lint and clean it out. Or, for normal people, your repairman would do that.

Scott ordered the part, replaced it, put the dryer back together and painted over the rusty spot of the top of the dryer where I had kept the laundry detergent. Wonderful! It worked!

For one load. Now the drum won't turn. He took it apart. Maybe the belt wasn't on properly. He re-laid the belt. He reassembled the dryer.

Nothing. We need a new motor.

The man just this week finished his master's degree. He was doing all of this while trying to get his papers written and go to work and all of the usual Dad stuff he does. As a result, our family of 5 has been without a dryer for a month. No one is wearing less clothes. In fact, there is more laundry now than there was in the summer because I am washing school uniforms as well.

I am not going to lie to you and say that I have been patient about all of this. I have tried (sometimes hard, sometimes not) to avoid nagging him about getting this thing done. I have tried to be cheerful in doing my wash even as certain people complain that they have no (name article of clothing here). I have tried.

This drying is trying. The weather's not as hot as it had been at the beginning of all of this, so the clothes aren't drying in a hour. And now with the kids in school and me working, I really don't have a lot of time to hang wash out.

I did manage to get some things on the line yesterday afternoon. Then we had a thunderstorm while I was at work. No one who was at home brought in the wash.

What this trying experience has taught me is that you can't always make things go the way you want them. Sometimes, your son will turn the hose on the dirt near your just-dried jeans and accidentally splash mud on them. You have do things when you have the chance. You have to plan how you will do it. You have to be patient.

What this trying experience has taught me is that you have to see how not only you are frustrated by the things out of your control. You have to see that your attitude as woman of the house will impact everyone else under your roof. You have to love them all through whatever life hands your way. You have to see that if the broken dryer and the splattered mud are the worst of it, you're very fortunate indeed.

If you can see these things, you will grow to appreciate the feel of the sun on your hair and your newly-acquired mosquito-swatting skills. You will realize that this may just be the Lord's way of getting you to slow down a bit and listen. Listen to Him speaking to you in the three minutes of quiet you'll get as you hang out your laundry.

Time flies...

So, it's been a while.

Scott and I were on a trip. Overseas. First time ever for each of us, so it was pretty cool. We were gone for 2 weeks and at the end, I really was glad to be coming home. I truly could have kissed the border guard who said, "Welcome Home" when he was done checking us in. More on the trip later.

My wonderful Mother in law brought Curly Sue with her when she picked us up at the airport and I cried because I was so happy to see her.

I am amazed at how much bigger they all seemed when we saw them again. And I am consistently humbled by the fact that each time I look at Primo he seems more mature-looking. He's at the delightful age of almost 1o. Every once in a while, as I'm looking at him, I'll get a flash of what I think he'll look like at 18. Today, his jaw is wider, his forehead slightly more broad, and the little boy I knew is all but disappeared. He is a big kid now. *sigh*

I do promise to write about the trip later this week. ttfn...

an elephant in my blog

I have an elephant in my blog. Something in real life that I can't blog about. Something that impacts a member of my extended family that this person has asked me not to share, but that has started consuming my life.

I have considered starting an anonymous blog to write about it, but there are so many sites out there about this type of elephant that I'm not sure what else I can contribute.

I don't think that this elephant is bad for this person. I think it's a good thing. This person simply doesn't see it that way. Yet. But since this elephant came to stay, I have noticed that we get along better, that we understand each other a little more. I am grateful for the elephant.

Sometimes, when you get to know a person or a thing well, you see things you didn't see before. You can call these things flaws, or imperfections, or you can choose to appreciate the nuances in the Lord's creation.

Psalm 139: 1-17

O LORD, you have probed me, you know me:
you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar.
My travels and my rest you mark; with all my ways you are familiar.

Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all.

Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is beyond me, far too lofty for me to reach.

Where can I hide from your spirit? From your presence, where can I flee?

If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I lie down in Sheol, you are there too.

If I fly with the wings of dawn and alight beyond the sea,

Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light" -

Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one.

You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb.

I praise you, so wonderfully you made me; wonderful are your works!

My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, fashioned as in the depths of the earth,

Your eyes foresaw my actions; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be.

How precious to me are your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them!

calling it like it is

We had a fight last week. Let us make no mistake: I was 100% wrong for being as thoughtless as I was. I was glad he told me about it because I need to know when I do things that hurt him so I can avoid it in the future.

My feelings were hurt in the exchange and I nursed this hurt that night and the next morning. It was hard for me to keep remembering that I was wrong. "He shouldn't have said it that way. He's restricting my freedom. I should be able to do and say what I want. He's being unreasonable." My conscience kept prodding me: "Remember that YOU were wrong. And you hurt him badly."

And as I drove in the car that morning, late to somewhere I really didn't want to be, the Lord blessed me with this realization: "This grudge that you so tenderly nurse is the evil one at work: undermining your relationship with your husband, your marriage, and your family. Your energy is misplaced."

With that, immediately, I said, "Get behind me, Satan. In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you to leave me alone," and the hurt I had taken care of so well for those past 12 hours evaporated.

I praise God for the grace to see the trickery of the devil for what it is. The temptation to nurse that grudge came back over the course of the day, but the temptation and the grudge were not as strong and with the same prayer the Lord dismissed them quickly.

When you have a grudge you're taking such good care of, or anger that flares within you, be quick to ask yourself where it comes from. Is it building up love? Is it advancing the Kingdom of God on earth, as all of us baptized Christians are called to do? If it is not, then call upon the Lord to deliver you from the evil one, who is tempting you.

Make no mistake, the root of your grudge, your anger, is the evil one calling you away from your work. Recognize him and call upon the Lord to put him right back in his place.

It's not easy to hear someone say: "I feel hurt because of X thing you did." It's hard to hear that and to see your fault plainly. It's humiliating to know that you hurt someone. It's humiliating to know that you're not perfect.

In that humilation, we can do one of two things. We can become defensive. "Well, you started it!" "I did that but you did this to me!" "Why are you yelling at me?!" Defensiveness is selfish. Defensiveness doesn't heal. Defensiveness makes it worse.

Or, we can recognize the humiliation for the good it can do: in this moment, with God's help, we have the power to change, the power to heal the relationship, the person whom we have hurt, and ourselves. We can say, "I'm sorry I did that. I am sorry I hurt you. I will do better next time." No excuses. We must acknowledge our weaknesses and resolve to do better in the future.

So very difficult to acknowledge one's humanity, yet so necessary.

humility

In my reading, I have noticed that saints are full of humility. Also, obviously, is Jesus. He truly humbled Himself, becoming human to save us from sin through His suffering, death, and resurrection.

Also in my reading, I am reminded over and over again that in order to become closer to God, one must humble oneself. So I prayed, "Humble me, Lord. Make me humble so I can be more like you." I promptly forgot about this prayer and got on with my life.

Have you ever been in a place in your professional or personal life where the allegorical buck must stop with you? Where you have had to make a hard, unpopular decision? The comments and communications about those difficult decisions that make everything more difficult to bear. We are left with several choices as to how to respond: meekness, compassion, gentleness. Then there is the more attractive (to my fallen nature) option: nasty yet witty email back, cutting remarks, gossip, and rage.

I try to take the high ground. Try to be meek, gentle, compassionate. Then I brood. I endlessly chatter on to others about how I was wronged, how unjustified so-and-so's behavior was, etc., boring to tears anyone who will listen for more than 5 minutes and in this way, feeding the unrest within my soul. I lose sleep over it. It was effects my family. I become ill at ease and unbearably cranky.

And one night, as I couldn't go to sleep, I had to write down my heart's conversation with God. And in it, He reminded me that I wanted to be humbled. He told me that in order to do this, He must put me in situations where I get to exercise the humility I am trying to strengthen. He also reminded me that these situations will be painful. I may not be called upon to endure what He endured, or even what St. Gerard Majella had to endure (falsely accused of rape, Gerard did not defend himself because the rule in the Redemptorist order is not to defend yourself when accused by making excuses-his accuser recanted after several months where Gerard was forbidden to leave the house or to take Communion), but that I would need to endure and I would need to start rejoicing in these small humiliations because they give me the chance to practice humility.

Then in the morning, as if to underline what He told my heart the night before, when I went to comment on a friend's blog, the comment verification word was "humbl."

So, I struggle, I try, and I have been schooled with a lesson I won't forget (at least until next week).

off her game

"off balance" by Dean Farrell

I go through these periods of time in my life every so often where I am off-kilter: I don't seem to be communicating properly, I get behind at home and at work; just out of whack. It doesn't happen regularly, but when it does, it can last for 4-6 weeks.

Now is my really busy time at work: First Communions, Confirmations, Easter (not necessarily in that order), baseball, end-of-school stuff with the kids. I am in this off-kilter place right now (started 2 weeks ago) and it's not really good timing. I just can't afford to be a beat behind and feeling like all of my nerves are exposed at this time of year.

What also happens when I am here in Sideways Land (need to come up with a better name for that) is that I have a much lower tolerance for foolishness and for other people in general. From those I work with to my children, I am much more peevish and prone to snapping, like an irritated turtle.

Where I feel it most is in my daily conversations with my husband. I tend to take things extra personally when I am in this place and I wonder, "What did he mean by that? What's he REALLY saying?" When, of course, Scott, like most other men, doesn't have an alternate meaning behind his words. He says what he means and he means what he says. Not much more than that.

So, what's a girl to do?

This girl is going to get back to the nationally-known weight loss program she was on. I've gained about 15 pounds since Christmas. I have had 4 cycles, and each time thought I was pregnant so I haven't been back. I've decided that even though we're not-not-trying to get pregnant anymore that it's just not as easy for me to conceive as it used to be. Maybe it just gets like that when you hit your mid 30's. And it's harder to take the weight off at my age anyways, so I'm getting back on that horse.

This girl is also going to start exercising daily again. I feel better when I'm moving around. I'm also going to get more sleep. I really need 8 hours and I've only been getting about 6. I'm also going to pray more regularly and truly make time for the Lord in my life.

And maybe I'll finally make that overdue appointment to get the stuff under the hood checked out.

the winter of our discontent

In February, the kids had the fever with temp spikes up to 104. The weekend of Jan. 31/ Feb. 1, Bubba came down with it on Friday and the fever finally broke on Monday after the sore throat started. He was back to school Wednesday. The following Friday, Primo got the same bug as Bub, with the same symptoms and for the same duration. That weekend also saw Curly Sue come down with a low-grade temp (about 100), but she was done with it in 24 hours. That was the weekend of snowmageddon, which never really happened here. The following weekend saw Curly Sue awake at 5:00 screaming in pain. Ear Infection. The following Friday saw Curly Sue with a fever hitting a high of 104 up and down for 4 days. She was finally clear to go to school by Thursday of that week (incidentally, another snowstorm which canceled school).

Just as I am thinking we're all in the clear, no more fevers, the stomach viruses have begun. Bub vomiting last Tuesday (one episode, better by 2:00). Curly Sue got it on Thursday (same everything). Primo had a little tummy trouble Saturday morning, but was fine. Played the best basketball game of his life that morning. Today, Curly Sue got it again. She's still asleep on the couch and I am going to get up now and wash some sheets. I am going to open the windows again today since it will be almost 60 here.

Is it spring yet?!

The long hello

See that guy over there on the left? We met almost 15 years ago, but he doesn't remember. There were probably 20 of us watching a movie in Smugs' room in April of 1994. Smugs introduced "Gigs" to everyone. I never met a guy with that kind of nickname before so it stuck. I said, "Hi, Gigs," when I passed him on campus the next day. I could tell by his face that he didn't remember me. I also heard his friend say, "Who was that," and Scott replied, "I don't know." I didn't say hi again. I figured he didn't remember me. And I didn't see him much after that since our paths rarely crossed.

I had been selected to be an RA (Resident Assistant) for the next year, my junior year. We did our spring team building day and in the summer, I went back to school early for training. Two days into training, there was Gigs. Two guys had resigned as being RAs over the summer and he was asked to replace one of them. He told everyone his name was Scott, so that's what we called him. Apparently, only guys on the baseball team called him Gigs. We finished our training and the freshmen arrived on campus. I was pretty busy since I was an RA in the freshman girls' dorm. Scott was assigned to an upperclassman dorm, so he was around, but kind of peripherally. The college always had an ice cream social for the freshmen during orientation and all of the RAs went. I talked to him a little as we were leaving the social with our friends. As we parted, I said goodbye and gave him a hug, as all recovering theatre people do. There were sparks in that hug, but Scott wasn't my type. He's about 5'7" and played baseball. I liked guys taller than 6' and who were actors or poets. I just went back to my room and did my work and kind of forgot about it.

Shortly afterward, Scott and his colleagues up in Tucker Hall decided that they would throw a dance in the basement of the dorm. It used to be a seminary, so it was quite big. They called it Tucker Underground. And Scott was on duty that night. Oh, boy. What a terrible night he had! A lot of underage drinking and at one point, one of the Panamanian soccer players who lived there kicked a goal shot to the other end of the long hallway using a beer ball. He stopped down to the dance on rounds and I saw him and said hi and gave him a hug like I always do and there were the sparks again. A couple of us offered to go on rounds with him again so he wasn't alone. And we wound up hanging out for the rest of the time. I helped him and his fellow RAs clean up the mess. and then I stayed. The lounge where they had the dance was a 24 hour space, so we stayed there and watched TV and talked. All night.

I did try to kiss him at one point (forward much?) and you know what he said? He told me he didn't want to kiss me then. He said that he once kissed a girl the night that they met and that it didn't go anywhere right away and he didn't want that to happen with me. He wanted to give whatever we might have a chance before we kissed. I was shocked. No guy had ever said that to me before. I knew immediately that he was a good one, a guy I wanted to know better. So we stayed up until 7:00 in the morning just talking. He wasn't allowed to leave the building until then since he was on call. He drove me back to my building and he said he'd call me in the afternoon. The next night, we went out with his friends to play pool.

And the rest, as they say, is history. Of the 4 couples that we knew who got together at Tucker Underground, 2 of us are married. Scott and I were married 10 years ago on March 4. It's funny how 15 years can all at once feel like forever and yesterday.

So, Happy Anniversary, to my one, true love, to my college sweetheart, to the man whom God moved mountains to get into my life, to my Scotty. I love you.

trying

I am trying harder now to be more patient with my children. One way I'm trying to do this is to say a Hail Mary before I start screaming. It's a lot like counting to 10, but it takes a little longer and it's actual prayer (multitasking-yes!). I figure Mary was Jesus' mom, and while she and Jesus were sinless and probably didn't really drive each other crazy, she's probably witnessed some crazy in Nazareth. And in the roughly 2000 years since her Assumption, she's witnessed a lot of crazy--from the vantage point of heaven, of course. So, I'm asking her intercession while I try not to yell at my kids all day long.

Sometimes the prayer is audible, sometimes not, but the kids know what I'm doing and I wonder what they're thinking when they see me do this. I don't want them to associate the Hail Mary with me being fed up. They have asked me "what are you doing," as they watch me moving my lips, eyes raised to heaven. I tell them I'm asking Mary to pray for me.

This leads me to wonder of you know any moms who don't yell. I know one, but I guess I could be acquainted with more and just not know it. She's really sweet. I have seen her with her family and with other peoples' kids and I have never heard her even raise her voice above an "inside voice" tone. I don't know how she does it, especially since she has more than 10 kids of her own. Yes, you read that right. And I have never in 7 years of knowing her heard her raise her voice. There is an air about her. It's peace. She radiates peace.

I'm not sure what I radiate, but it's not peace. I think I radiate agitation. I radiate bad juju.

Actually, I do think I know how she does it. I'm pretty sure she prays more than me. She's definitely one of the holiest people I know. She seems to have put all of her life in the Lord's hands, and she is confident in His Providence.

This is my problem. I try to do too much. I pay good lip service to "Leaving it up to God," "His Will be done!" But I find myself trying to control things and then getting frustrated by the things I have no control over. Like the weather canceling or postponing events I've organized for Church. Dang, I can't make the blizzard either show up or avoid us. And I can't even rejoice in the time off.

Which brings me back to Mary. There she was, a 14 year old girl, and this angel shows up and tells her that God wants her to bear His Son. And after she gets over being confused ("How can this be? I don't know man."), she tells the angel, "I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word." And she probably never thought, "Boy, what's Joseph going to think? What are all the women in town going to think about me?" She probably just knew God would take care of it. She was that humble.

I read this today and it kind of jumped out at me. Maybe it will hit you, too:

We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body (2 Cor. 4:8-10).

Let it be done to me according to your word.

It's true...

Ten years ago in March, Scott and I were married. We bought our house in Linden, NJ, even as I gave my husband 5 years to find a job in PA so I could move closer to my friends and family. I worked at a major university here in NJ as an admissions counselor and I traveled a little bit. We had a cat.

I had all kinds of plans for us. We would travel some. Maybe Italy, maybe drive across the country. We were young (24) and we had all kinds of time ahead of us to get around to the kids we wanted to have (2 or 3-it was up in the air).

On Mothers' Day, 2000, I found out I was pregnant. The baby would be born before our first anniversary.

I did not feel equipped for motherhood in any way. I was excited, but I was really scared. And I was not entirely comfortable with my plan changing. We wouldn't be jetting off to Europe anytime soon. We had decided before we got married that once we had kids I'd stay home and take care of them. I wasn't making really GREAT money in my job and by the time you factored in day care and both of our crazy schedules, well, it wasn't worth it.

Nine years ago today, I gave birth to a wonderful baby boy. The blog world knows him as Primo. We took a little while figuring each other out, but every year has gotten better and better.

So, what they say is really true. God's plan for you is really so much better than the plan you have in mind.

Happy 9th birthday to my firstborn, my smartypants, my right hand man. I love you so much. I cannot imagine my world-- THE world-- without you in it. You are my joy. The Lord has big plans for you, my friend. I am so blessed and so grateful that he gave you to us.

Merry New Year!

So, how was your Christmas break?

Mine was VERY busy. But there is progress on the back room which has been in various phases of construction for 2.5 years now. I can almost smell the sheetrock...

Got to see Aimee and VK this past Saturday. Aimee is gestating beautifully (is that even correct? Does that make it sound like she is the one in utero? I hope not. Because, clearly, if she were in utero, it would have been impossible to see her and it would be 197*. asterisk in case she wouldn't want me to publish the year of her birth). And the 4 kids who were running around were fantastic. And so was her wonderful Rob.

VK and her hubby Sean look great! I haven't seen them since we all graduated college back in the late '90's. VK went to Denmark in the summer to record an album with a super producer. what I have heard from the record sounds GREAT!!!! buy it!

So, today was back to the grind with school and work. I wish we had gotten one day at home where we could just loaf, but that was not to be for us this year. Maybe we'll get to do that over Easter...

What were you up to?

We have Religious Ed. classes on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The kids come for one of those sessions every week. We have about 625 kids in RE, so it gets kind of busy.

The Tuesday session meets from 3:45-5:00, so Scott comes to pick up the kids from me at work at about 4:45, takes them home, and gets dinner started.

Tonight's menu was leftover teriyaki chicken (grilled last night) with rice and stir fry veggies. Now, the children will not eat them all stir-fried together because they are my children and are therefore adverse to anything that makes my life easier, such as eating the same meal their father and I enjoy. ("Sauce? What kind of sauce? I don't like sauce. I like ketchup. You stirred it all together! I know it's called stir fry AND it will all wind up stirred together in my tummy, but I don't want my food all mixed up on my plate!!")

Point? Yes, I have one. Right on the top of my head.

So, Scott came home and started making the rice. He measured out 3 cups of rice and cooked it. Which yielded approximately 10 cups of cooked rice.

Lord, I am thankful to you today for the rice pudding I am about to enjoy. Yum.

Luigi, Mario, and their pumpkin.

You say it's your birthday?

Well, it's her birthday too, yeah!

Happy birthday to my pink Princess, Curly Sue. She's three now, which means, in her own arbitrary terms, that she is now big. She wasn't big yesterday, but she is today. She starts school in about 3 weeks. She will also start dancing lessons. She will also continue to boss her big brothers around and generally try to run everyone's life. what else are little sisters for?

As my dad says, she's our little ray of sunshine. We love you, Curly Sue. Happy Birthday!

Random randomness, mixed emotions edition

Baseball superstar

1. I was really happy that the local PAL started a summer league and I was gung ho about the summer season. Reality, however, has set in, and it really adds a lot to our already full summer since Scott coaches Primo's team. Have I mentioned that I haven't gone to the beach yet?

2. I am happy that my house is cleaner, but I am not happy about how much more work it is than sitting on the couch after dinner and doing nothing. I'd call the maid, but she is already here.

3. I spent last Thursday cleaning my bedroom. This room would have made Niecy speechless and I don't think that's easy to do. I sent the kids to my in-laws because I needed not to be interrupted constantly because it was THAT bad. I found random clutter in here that had been "temporarily" shuffled up here for Primo's birthday party-in JANUARY-under the random First Communion party clutter. I didn't have dust bunnies. I had dust bison. And a protective layer of dust 1/4 inch thick. I wish I were exaggerating. I am horribly, horribly allergic to dust and it was getting unpleasant to sleep in here. The good news is that I got rid of the bison and 4 bags of clothing to give away, and also 3 bags of trash and 2 huge piles of paper to be recycled. And that was all just on MY side of the room, kids. We shall not discuss the state of Scott's dresser. The bad news is that I was very wheezy and sneezy for three days while the dust settled. But now I can not only walk in here, but I can also dance if I want to.

4. We went camping with Scott's family 2 weekends ago, which was a ton of fun. But we still have all of the camping equipment in my living room. Mostly 'cause I brought the other half of it in from my car this afternoon. My wonderful hubby keeps tripping over things and complaining, but he is the King of All That Goes in the Attic. If you're falling on it, pal, it's because you haven't put it away.

5. I am very glad that Scott is working on a Master's degree, and I am proud of his 3.84 average. But it is really cramping my style. He has to do classwork and that leaves me to do a lot more around here with no one's help but the kids. And the kids try, but they are not getting that camping stuff in the attic, people!

Mommy, can I peas feed da cat now?

6. Speaking of kids, we have a new chore chart where all of the kids have jobs to do according their ability. Curly Sue pretty much just feeds the cat and puts away her toys. The boys have more to do and everyone makes 10 cents for each job they do. And it is mostly working out well because I don't feel like I have to do everything myself, even when I have to help the kids get their jobs done (they're still learning-we're only on week 1). BUT I am starting to tire of the temper tantrums they throw when I tell them I need them to unload the dishwasher or vacuum the dining room rug.

You want me to scoop WHAT?!

Tough Crowd

Primo: Ow, I hurt my toe!

Me: Are you OK?

P: Yeah, but it hurts.

Curly Sue: Walk it off!

P: I think I have a little cut.

M: Is it bleeding?

CS: We'll cut it off and it will bleed faster!

staycation

Primo is out of school and Scott is off from work next week. This got me thinking about the concept of a staycation. Staycation got a lot of buzz last summer when gas prices were through the roof (as opposed to this summer's mere "grazing the ceiling" gas prices). All of a sudden poeple were like, "Took the week off, going to hang with the kids. You know, staycation."

Honestly, I wonder what the big deal is. We sued to do this stuff all the time when we were kids. Dad would take a week off from work and we'd hang out at home. Maybe we would go to Grandmom's house on Sunday and go swimming in her pool, but we hardly went anywhere. we played and dad would work on the house and we were so stone bored by the end of August we were sort of looking forward to school.

Well, that's not entirely accurate. We did, for several years in a row, take a week down the shore with my dad's brother, sister, and their families. Usually the first week in August. But even then we weren't going to the boardwalk and eating out every night. We cooked at home and one night we'd go to Wildwood for the boardwalk. And there were 11 of us in the house.

And we still were sort of looking forward to school starting up again.

When did average people like me start thinking that they have to take the kids on some really great trip every summer and long weekend during school? I didn't go to Disney world until I was 20. That was the first time I was ever on a plane, too. It never occurred to me that people went away for Columbus Day or Presidents' Day weekend. Then I tried scheduling classes for CCD on Columbus day. Holy crap, was THAT a disaster!!!! everyone went away that weekend. President's day weekend I tried scheduling something (I think for Confirmation). Who knew everyone was going on a ski trip that weekend? The only trouble I see with this is that these trips become routine, something to be taken for granted.

I know a wonderful woman who told me one time, "Oh, we always take the kids to Vermont on Columbus Day weekend and we drive around and look at the leaves change." This one actually sounds good to me. Four hours each way in the car and more driving around in the car when you get there, taking it easy and talking to one another.

So, next week, we will be staycationing. Scott will do work on the yard and his masters' classes and I will try and get some wash done. And we'll go to Bubba's Kindergarten "celebration" (not graduation-?-) and go to the last baseball game of the season for the boys.

And they'll go to the baseball camp that Pop-pop runs and they'll hang out and get bored and sort of start looking forward to school starting again.

The way it should be.

Husband appreciation weekend

Hot on the heels of the last two posts, I am declaring June 5, 6, and 7 Husband Appreciation Weekend. This weekend, we will, through acts of love, through verbal thanks, and *ahem* whatever else you may think of, show our husbands that we love them; that we are grateful that they decided to marry us and put up with all of our crap until death do us part.

This weekend we will not nag. This weekend, we will be grateful that he folded the wash (even if it was not folded "the right way"). We will pray for him, that the Lord keeps him strong. At least one night this weekend, we will make him what he wants for dinner. We will let him rest in the hammock and keep the kids from jumping on him for at least 15 minutes. We will put aside the honey-do list (or at least thank him for getting to it). We will show him that we think he's the best guy in the world. We will cheerefully say yes when he initiates love. We will show our husbands that we are grateful for him being a man, MY MAN. We will show our husbands that we are grateful for him being here, for showing up.

Who's with me?

The Long Walk

In an effort to get my lazy butt off the couch, lose weight, make my kids burn off some energy before 8:00 PM become more physically active and therefore healthier, I have started walking the kids to school when it's not raining when we're not late when I'm not lazy every day.

Today we were running a little bit behind ("When I tell you to go upstairs, brush your teeth, and get dressed, I don't mean read a book and build with Legos first. No Wii today!") and had to sort of run/walk to make sure Primo got to school on time. This caused Bubba to get a stitch in his side and walk a little slower (Curly Sue was in the stroller). We were about one block from school, so I told Primo to run ahead a little bit so that the crossing guard could see him and start walking over to meet us. I slowed down to wait for Bub to catch up. This got me to thinking: We're almost there. Why not just let Primo go across alone with the crossing guard and then walk ahead to school by himself? He stopped at the corner fo two VERY busy streets in our neighborhood and I caught up to him (Bub still far behind) and said, "Why don't you just walk ahead by yourself? Give me a kiss." He gave me a nice kiss, I told him to have a nice day at school, and he walked next to the crossing guard the whole way. She had him turn to wave to me as they got a little further away and then as they got all the way across the busy intersection, she had him wave again and she walked him the rest of the way to the school building (about 250 feet) and across the driveway that the crazy drop-off parents use. I wanted to watch him the whole way, but a school bus blocked my view.

When Bub caught up to me, he asked, "Is Primo old enough to walk to school by himself?" "He's not old enough to walk the whole way yet (about half a mile on my pedometer), but he can walk this far," I said. "I'm watching him (cue the school bus). When I was in first grade I walked to school by myself every day."

And I did (I think maybe my mom walked me in first grade, I can't remember). School was only a few blocks away and I think we only had one car that my dad took to work. I walked in the rain, in the snow, in the freezing weather, in the hot weather--every day. I also remember from a young age walking to the playground near where I grew up (about half a mile away) and I think I was allowed to go there unaccompanied with my friends in like second grade.

So Bub, Curly Sue and I went home to bide away 15 minutes till we walked Bub to school. And it was a very good morning.