big and cranky

I've gotten to the point in this pregnancy where I'm super big.

I waddle.  Clothes that fit last week don't fit today.  I have given up completely on bending over, wearing pants, and trying to not bump into people and things.

I've only gained 16lbs in the 35 weeks I've been pregnant but I am big, round, and uncomfortable.  It seems there is a correlation between my size and months preggo (next Wednesday I'll be 9 months!) and my grumpiness.

This is what my husband tells me anyways.

He's probably right.

7 quick takes

1 - In high school my friend Mindy made me a mix tape with Harry Belafonte songs on it.  Because we were awesome like that.  When you listen to this song don't think about Beetlejuice just think about shaking your hips.  Go ahead, no one's looking, you can "hoist that skirt a little higher!"

2 - Today is the nationwide Stand Up for Religious Freedom rally at 12 noon.  There will be a group at the federal building in downtown Peoria - just 20 minutes from my house.  I wish I could go but there's one reason I cannot, and he is named "Bennet."  Bennet loves to wander off and so I am pretty sure that while comforting my "I-should-be-at-home-napping" 18 month old my middle child will walk away and end up standing in the street.

So at noon my kids and I will say a "St. Michael the Archangel" prayer to join those who are gathering across the nation. 

3 - On a completely different note, here's two posts that are really great reads:
 #1 - Cynthia's 7 (Good) Reasons to Swear
 #2 - Putting It That Way by Rebecca Frech

4 - Recently my husband began watching Friday Night Lights on Netflix.  At first I made fun of him - he's a high school teacher so why would he want to relax by watching a tv show about high school?!  But now I'm hooked. 

5 - Travis' 30th birthday is coming up this Monday.  His festivities include going fishing with his brother tomorrow, a family cookout, and permission to watch a movie and go out to eat with some friends after work - and I won't complain.  This is just as generous as when he took me to Boston for my 30th birthday.  I'm such a good woman...

6 - This Sunday, March 25th, I will be speaking in the Atrium at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Springfield, IL following the 5pm Mass.  The talk, titled "61 Minutes: Witness to the Alleged Miracle" will begin around 6:30pm.  The event is free and is hosted by the parish youth group.  If you're in the area it would be great to see you there!

The hat Lydia is wearing was made for me by Jenny Traig, author of Devil in the Details, Well Enough Alone, and the Crafty Girl books.  We volunteered together once upon a time.  Just a little factoid for you.

7 - I share this picture with you because officially, and seemingly unofficially, Winter is over.  Robins in my yard, daffodils blooming, trees budding, rabbits hopping all over the place.  But I knew that Spring was here the other night as I drove home on the country roads with the windows down.  The air felt cool after a warm day and it smelled like the freshly spread manure on the prepped-for-planting fields.  Aahhhh!

stop complaining, Bonnie

Recently I overheard someone complain about something and I was hit by a strong realization:  When people complain they often sound ungrateful, which means that when I complain I often sound ungrateful.  (You're probably amazed by my tardiness in making this realization.) Since that moment I have spent a lot of time mulling over complaining - especially when it comes to doing so in a Facebook status.

Now, I do think that some things are okay to complain about.  Your kid just puked on you, you lost some money, you were up all night and now you're exhausted, someone didn't treat you well.  So to say, "Urgh... my kid just puked one me!" well, I can understand that.  Sometimes we're not really complaining, really we're just looking for some empathy and I don't think there's anything wrong with that, either.  It's more of a one time comment than anything.

Much different though is the person who, say, just got a really nice job - good salary, benefits, working for a good company - and yet they complain on almost a weekly basis about some aspecct of that job.  "What are you complaining for?  You have a great job!" I want to yell at them, and sometimes yell at the computer.

BUT, I have noticed that the people who complain the least are the ones whose feeds I don't hide.  So this person, instead of saying, "This is going to be a horrible day - I've been up all night!*" might say, "Both kids are up before 6:30 and I could have slept til noon**!"or something else that is lighthearted.

Even better are the people who don't complain at all.  I am trying to make this change in my life, starting first on Facebook and this blog.  It is possible for me to convey a point about how frustrated/angry/hurt I am and not complain.  It is even possible to be lighthearted about such events.

All of this sounds kinda hard to me - which isn't a complaint, just a statement - but I think I can do it!  I'm gonna do it!   

Cheerfulness is often a cloak which hides a life of sacrifice, continual union with God, fervor and generosity. A person who has this fight of cheerfulness very often reaches a great height of perfection.  Mother Teresa

A related and better written article by Jennifer Fulwiler on how we over-value our opinions.

*I'm pretty sure that's an actual former Facebook status of mine.
**This is an actual Facebook status from high school friend, Megan.

making peace with attachment parenting

Before I was a mom I was pretty confident that I would be an ap (attachment parenting) mom.  My babies would be in slings, I wouldn't have a nap schedule, we'd probably co-sleep, and I'd do "time-ins" instead of "time outs."  All of this builds confidence in children and promotes "peaceful parenting", as ap-ers would explain.

And then I gave birth. 

I quickly learned that my kid did not like slings, wraps, or anything else carrying her that wasn't my two arms.  I also learned that if I didn't schedule my day - including time for a nap - and have everything at roughly the same time every day my kid would not thrive and I would fall apart.  It didn't take long to realize I did not sleep well with my baby in bed with me.  In fact, I don't sleep well with my babies in the same room as me!  And when I am mad at my child the last thing I want is for anyone to talk to me or touch me.  A time out is beneficial for me, probably more so than my kids.

What I learned is that I don't like a lot of physical touch, something that ap seemed to be pretty big on. 

I did not see any of this coming.

For awhile I tried to fight myself, convinced that what the attachment parents were saying was true:  my children would be stupid, hoarding, serial killers if I didn't wear them in slings, co-sleep, homeschool, never force a nap time, never let them cry for more than 2 minutes.

Of course those weren't their exact words but the tone and body language of most ap moms I knew made me feel like a horrible excuse for a parent and a complete failure of a mother because what worked for them and what nature clearly intends for children to need in order to thrive didn't work for me.

See what I mean?  That language, "what nature clearly intends for children to need in order to thrive;" was some exact words - or variations of - and so of course the ap movement made me feel like crap!  I was very, very hurt.  I was struggling in my role of motherhood and I was especially troubled because I thought it would be so easy.  Yet the very way I was told to parent - the way I was told Nature (and therefore GOD) wanted us to parent - was not how I wanted to parent.  It wasn't working for me.  I became angry and resentful towards a lot of those women, especially when they'd post a link to some study on Facebook, citing how moms who let their kids cry for more than 5 minutes are raising damaged monsters. 

Honestly, I think I got hit harder with all of this because I'm part of two groups (natural-family-planning-practicing Catholics and home birthers) that are a lot more ap then other groups I've encountered, in part because of the big emphasis on breastfeeding. 

Trying to do "peaceful parenting" made me exhausted and worn thin.  So much so that when things didn't go well I would scream my head off, punch the walls, and curse at my kids.  When I tried explaining this to ap-ers I was told to do a "time-in" with my kids, hugging them instead of sending them to time out.  They didn't seem to get it.  And my life, home, and parenting was anything but peaceful.

It took me awhile, but I finally figured out what I need to do to parent my kids successfully.  We have a schedule.  Quiet time/nap time happens at about the same time every day.  I will keep my kids up a little bit longer so all three nap at the same time because I need quiet time, too.  I nurse my kids in a chair in the middle of the night - not in bed.  I introduce a bottle fairly early so I can go out and be by myself. 

I'm sure to some I sound like a horrible, monster of a mother.  But I really need to not touch my kids all day long.  I really need a good hour break in the middle of the day when no one talks to me, hugs me, kisses me, sits on my lap or comes close.  Having these breaks allows me to give plenty of physical affection to my children during the rest of the day.  Maybe it's the introvert in me coming out; whatever it is, it's the way I need it to be. 

I am a better mom for it.  Those breaks are my sanity.  Seriously.

In the end it was figuring out what "peaceful parenting" looked like in my home that made me let go of a lot of the hurt I felt towards the attachment parenting people I know.  I also started telling them how their language made me feel belittled and unfairly judged.  I started discussing with them my experiences in parenting.  And suddenly they started apologizing, empathizing, and explaining things in less polarizing ways. 

Of course there may have been a few fights I picked on Facebook along the way, but I'm pretty embarrassed about those now that my anger is gone.  If you were on the receiving end of my pettiness, I'm sorry!

I do not consider myself a "peaceful parent" - not in the way the attachment parenting movement would explain it.  But I would consider myself a good mom, and so would m thriving, happy, healthy kids.  And that's what matters. 

a couple things I've loved recently

Happy Columbus Day!  Over the weekend I came across a few things which I thought were worth sharing.  I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

First, Jen has a great article over at the National Catholic Register blog on aprons.  I have two aprons and I LOVE them.  Both were gifts and are wonderful.  Lydia actually has a couple of aprons and together, decked in our apron of the day, we cook, bake, clean, and look cute.  Go check the article out!

Second,

I love this song!  I have no idea what it's about, but make it part of your soundtrack for the week. 


Third, this article about how annoying it is when people use two spaces after a period is annoying.  (Please note that I used two spaces just now.)  But the comments are awesome. 

They are, of course, awesome only because I agree with them, and if I didn't I'd think the article is awesome and the comments annoying.  But I don't care.  Being a snob about how many times people hit the space bar at the end of a sentence makes you pretty ridiculous.  If you're gonna be a snob about something at least pick something respectable, like wine or cheese or literature.  ;)

and then I saw the beauty

I sat across the table from her and we made some small talk while she took my information for her form.  In silence, while she typed, I studied her appearance.  Outdated hair style.  Knobby hands.  Wrinkles on her face.  Plain clothes.  After noticing all the details I concluded that she may have been fairly pretty in her 20's but thirty-some years later she was just average.

And then I thought about the people I know who are so much more physically attractive to me because of how I love them.

I asked God how He saw her.  Immediately, before my eyes, her features softened.  Her knobby hands suddenly seemed virtuous with hard work and strong with love.  I was suddenly struck with how gentle and pretty her smile was.  My heart filled with the love her husband, parents, and children felt for her and I thought she was truly beautiful. 

It was amazing. 

So now, every time I look over someone's appearance and begin assessing all the things they've done wrong or how they've aged poorly I stop myself.  I wonder how God sees them and their beauty becomes obvious.  Obvious. 

How could I have missed it all in the first place?!

it happens in motherhood

Yesterday I was tired of being touched.  I was tired of all the noise: songs, shrieks, whines, cries, shouts.  I did not want to change anyone, help anyone go potty, help anyone wash their hands.  I did not want to give anyone a drink or snack.  I did not want to hold or hug or snuggle.  I did not want to read a book or tickle or build a tower.  I did not want to figure out what my son wanted or talk things through with my daughter.

I wanted quiet.  I wanted to be by myself.  I wanted nap time.

But instead what I got was Lydia and Bennet bum rushing me, jumping onto my lap, wrapping themselves around me, and holding on tight.  Lydia began singing a made up song about how I was the best mom ever and she loved me very much.  Bennet smiled and giggled and put his head on my shoulder.

I was saved by my kids and instantly back in love with my vocation.

the April Fool's joke I was going to play

I've announced my last two pregnancies by posting Ok Go's Here It Goes Again. I thought it would be funny to post the video on April 1st but Travis told me it would be mean. :)

I am not pregnant. Heck, I haven't charted for this many consecuative months in over 3 years! But here's the song anyways. Because it is a good song. And the video is so much fun.

a good quote

- excerpt from Simcha Fisher's Why I Love My Ugly Little Liturgy:
My soul is foolish. I’m cheap and jangly. I’m in poor taste, inadequate, irreverent, wanting and paltry in every way. My heart is made of little beige bricks and burlap. And for some reason, God keeps showing up anyway. He doesn’t sneer and hunker down and wait for it to be over when he comes into the tawdry temple of my soul. He doesn’t get out of there as soon as he can.


Oh Lord, have mercy!

7 quick takes

-1-

It seems that Travis and I were both planning a surprise date night for each other.  I had asked my mom to keep the kids over night.  He had asked his mom to come down and babysit.  Oops. 

-2-

Our date will consist of Chili's, a movie, and Cold Stone.  Dinner and dessert are courtesy of friends who sent us gift cards.  The movie tickets are also free.  A while ago Trav and his dad went to a movie and something went wrong, so they got two free tickets.  My fil gave Travis his ticket and so the two of us went to see a movie.  Something went wrong that time, too.  So we got two more free tickets.  I'm kinda hopeful something goes wrong tonight, too.

-3-

Bennet has learned his first sign - "more"!

-4-

James has a night nurse named Megan.  She's so great.  She loves my son and has cheered his on since the very beginning.  She had him the night he was admitted and she's asked to be his primary ever since.  Megan leaves us notes, loves on James, and even bought him a 3-6 mo sized sleeper so he'd fit in his clothes.  How phenomenal is that?

-5-

Another nurse, Sarah, has also been really great with my son.  A couple of days ago I asked her about my son and what she thinks his quality of life will be.  She fought back tears while she talked about him, how far he's come, the way he interacts with people, how he wants to do the things 6 week old babies want to do.  I don't know if she was crying because I seemed so hopeless or because she was so proud, but either way it felt good to see someone believe in my son so much.

-6-

I was able to speak with my good friend, Sr. Mariam Caritas, yesterday.  It was wonderful to speak with her, but I wish I had more time to tell her everything.  To talk through the fear, grief, guilt, and pendulum swing of despair and hope - she's one of my best friends who also has a whole lotta theology.  Especially since she is with the Sisters of Life, I think she would be really good for me right now.

-7-

Yesterday the kids and I went to daily Mass.  Bennet was a little fussy, and I definitely felt frustrated at times, but I felt like it was a rather successful Mass for the three of us.  As we were heading to our car, an old woman approached me and said, "Honey, don't you think you should take your son outside when he cries like that?  He was so distracting for everyone!  I mean, I know it's hard for you..."  By that time I was walking away from her, ready to cry.  So she got in her car, with its pro-life bumper sticker, and drove off. 

 Maybe someone should tell her that babies cry, and that the more babes who are saved from abortion the more babies to ruin her Mass.

this thing that I fear

At one of my old jobs I had to spend the afternoon with a teenage mentally handicapped boy.  It was exhausting, like got-back-to-my-office-and-cried exhausting.  After that day I decided that I had been wrong about parents of special needs kids.  I had always thought one had to be "strong enough" to have that kind of kid, but after my day with him I realized one has to become strong because that's what one has to do.

And to be honest, without sounding like some over-the-top, hyperbolizing egomaniac, with that realization came a feeling that I shouldn't be surprised if one day I too would have a special needs kid.  Of course we don't yet know how James will turn out.  My Little Boy Blue could be a NHS quarterback who is well liked because he's kind, honest, and hard-working.  But his bottle feedings are getting worse and worse, and I don't know why.  I want to give him every opportunity to prove himself but I also want to just let him rest.  I want to push him, to ask him to push himself, but I already feel like I've asked too much.  And I know I've said it before, but this limitless list of possible outcomes for my son are overwhelming.  Too overwhelming to think about and live my life.  To think about them is to break down in tears, and a fat woman crying all day is no good to anyone.

I can and will keep asking for a miraculous full restoration.  But in the meantime I also have to be prepared for God wanting James to be who James is, not who I want him to be.  And who he is, is someone with brain damage.

Us pro-lifers like to say that every person has dignity, is made in the image and likeness of God, is beautiful.  We say that even those who seem to have lesser lives actually have lives filled with beauty, joy, love, and goodness.  We talk about the lessons they can teach us.  I know that all of this is true.

But where I stand right now, it all sounds like a bunch of bullshit.  I don't want my kid to be someone else's lesson.  I want my son to be normal.  I suspect that in the future I will know much more fully the truth of those pro-life statements.  I suspect that they won't be rhetoric, they will be a part of my testimony.  But for now, for now, they just smack me in the face and rip out of my hands all the hopes and dreams I have for my son, my family, and myself.

Kind people have told me that I'm strong, but I am not.  The truth is that if you were in the same situation as I you would do what I'm doing.  You'd do what you have to do to keep the plates spinning, knowing that the only reason any of them are up at all is because you have Help. 

God didn't pick me because I was big enough.  I think He picked me because I was little enough. 

soooo, about that post...

The comment box on Friday's birthday wish list post pointed out a possible lack of tact and manners on my part.

For the record, the list was published in the hopes it would be helpful for the family and friends who had asked about what to get Bennet for his birthday. I knew I was running a risk of casting a bad light on myself, but for the sake of said loved ones I took a chance.  (I thought it was a small risk - I guess I was wrong.)

I apologize for misrepresenting my family and my intentions.

Also, I appreciate the challenge to be more grateful and appreciative for the many gifts we've been given  through the time, talent and treasure of people who love us.
 
This incident further affirms my belief that the people who love me know I'm a bit of an ass, but are generous enough to love me anyways.

Updated:  Thank you to the friends who have assured me that they were not insulted by the wish list, or thought it to be in bad taste.  Thank you also to those who pointed out that how people view such lists greatly depends on how one was raised.  When I read the comment I wasn't sure if it was an opportunity to personally attack me or if it was an impression that most of my friends and readers would share.  Whatever the case, I appreciate the opportunity to clarify why I did what I did and to make sure no one was insulted by it.

Have you ever had one of those days where you just want to sit down in defeat? 

Where you're so tired and overwhelmed that you can't deal with the overtired baby and the toddler who asks for a popsicle every. half. hour?  One of those days where you are stressed to the limit and therefore lose all ability to parent like a normal person?  Where grabbing the side of the highchair as you yell, "I can't take this!  What do you want?!" seems like the only way to communicate with a ten month old baby who is so hungry he can't sleep but refuses everything?  Where you are so tired that you fall asleep for an hour and awake to find your toddler has gone outside to watch her father mow while she digs in the landscaping?  A day that is so bad you find yourself watching the 20/20 special on The Bachelor and The Bachelorette, two shows you never watch, just so you can feel better about yourself and your way-less-drama-infused life?

You don't?

Neither do I.

you rascally rabbit

For those of you who read the What to do about the Easter Bunny post, I thought I'd offer a follow up.

Dear, dear Easter Bunny... 

I did a little research into your past (like Em suggested - good idea, Em!) and discovered you most likely come from Germany and that back in the day your coming was more quiet, and definitely less commercial. 

In fact, what I read sounded a lot like what my Grandpa W shared about his memories of you, Easter Bunny.  He has the sweetest memories about being a boy and making a little nest in a corner of his house.  Every day of Easter, since Catholics celebrate Easter for a full week, he'd come home and find a single egg or sweet in the nest.  Grandpa encouraged me to not turn my back on you when I told him I didn't know what to do.

When asking my mom her opinion she told me about her Great Grandma D.  I guess my great-great grandma loved you just as much as my grandpa.  She even would swear that rabbit eggs were better than chicken eggs.  She so looked forward to the little treats you would leave for her.

Now, the fondness of my grandparents' memories was pretty convicting.

 But I noticed one HUGE difference between their Easters and the Easters of my childhood and today.  Grandpa and Great Great Grandma each received small gifts, treats, or tokens.  This is a  f a r  cry from the Easter baskets of today, which look a little more like the image on the right. 

Margaret pointed out on my post that it's the commercialism that threatens to overshadow the Resurrected Christ, and not you, EB.  I agree with her, but the thing is, that's all you do:  you bring baskets filled with sidewalk chalk, stuffed toys, bubbles, and lots of candy.  (I wonder what you bring older kids?  CD's?  itunes gift cards?  DVDs?  Video games?  hmmmm... I only have a 2 year old, so I'm not sure.)

It's not that I'm against the gifts or the baskets. 

But, just like Santa, I feel like you make kids excited not because you're a neat character they can believe in, like Ariel or Super Wy.  No, they're excited about you because you bring things.  Neat things.  Nice things.  Sweet things.  And in doing so you, the great bearer of baskets, become glorified.
I should know, that's why I was excited about you when I was a kid.  And I'll be honest, you overshadowed Jesus when I was a little kid.  Let me be abundantly clear, when I was a kid, Easter was primarily about you and the Paschal Mystery was a HUGE afterthought.  (don't feel bad, Mom.  You tried, I was just greedy.)

At school we would all talk about what the Easter Bunny brought us, comparing each other's baskets to see who had the best gifts and most sweets.  This just reinforced that Easter wasn't really about Easter, it was about the baskets and you, EB.

Now, some people seem to think that by not teaching my kids about you I will be ruining a part of their childhood.  Maybe there is a morsel of truth to that.  My hope, though, is that my husband and I will be able to create enough tradtions and fun on our own, centered around Holy Week and Easter, that they will be compensated. 

I feel like I should admit at this point that my children will still receive Easter baskets with goodies inside.  But these baskets will come from their parents and grandparents, not you.  Because, believe me, us normal folk will not become glorified.  It's been proven.  (okay, we will become glorified at Christ's second coming... but that's not what I'm talking about here!)

Really, this is nothing personal.  I don't think you, Easter Bunny, are a horrible bunny.  I don't think parents who invite you into their homes are horrible parents.

But I do feel that since no one told me how they keep Christ the joyful center of Easter while keeping you a supporting character, I am unaware of how to do that myself without asking you to completely bow out of the picture. 

Please know, this isn't about you.  This is about me.  It is a personal parenting choice, made by my husband and I. 

And really, for me it came down to two reasons:

First, commercialism and secularism.  I want my family's Easters to look very different from the Easters of my atheist, agnostic and nominally Christian friends.  Maybe that sounds snooty, but I think they should be different.  A real joy, rooted in a personal relationship with the Risen Lord, should be the focus of our Easter, not a celebration of nice things, like warm weather, longer days and procreating animals.

Second, I feel I will not do a good enough job of keeping Jesus the focus if I have you in the picture.  I want my kids to grow up loving the Holy Trinity, and I wholeheartedly believe that my vocation is to get my husband, kids and self to Heaven.  If not having you come to our home every Spring helps me make that happen, then that's what I'm going to have to do.  I hope you can support me in this choice, even if you don't agree with me.

Most sincerely,
Bonnie E.

lessons, affirmations and convictions

- When I become tired I become a worse version of myself.  Spiritually, emotionally, psychologically and physically I suffer.  I become mean, short-fused, and I walk around angry, easily resenting my husband and blaming my children for my inability to deal with life. 
It's a good thing I have a husband who sees my descent and makes plans to take the kids to his parents' home for a night.  He's such a good man.  In fact, he stands among the best of men.

- Getting nice gifts is, well, quite nice.  The heroic generosity of others astounds me and makes me feel very blessed to know such virtuous people.  It's also a quite humbling experience.
And that seems to be the beauty of being poor.
I am much more receptive to graciousness, kindness and selflessness.  I see it, recognize it, appreciate it.

- I cannot negate your frustration or pain because it contradicts my own.  For example, it may suck that you don't have a job, but that doesn't change the fact that it sucks that my boss is a belittling liar.  We should be able to sympathize with one another and support each other's personalized crosses.
This point was so wonderfully verbalized by V, who was quoting A's mom, I believe.

- Stories like this one, on a psychiatrist reported exorcism, make me so glad I'm not just a Christian, but Catholic.  I've heard stories from people who have scary supernatural issues.  When these people are not Catholic, and they consult their own pastors or rabbis they are often told, "Call a priest.  Catholics deal with that."  The true story that The Exorcist is based on started that very way. 
Interestingly enough, the boy, it was a boy in the 1940's not a girl in the 1970's, was finally taken to a hospital run by religous brothers.  One night a brother put a statue of St. Michael by the boy's bedside.  The next morning the boy awoke and said he had dreamt of an angel who battled demons and threw them over a cliff.   After that he was fine.  Now, I don't know about you, but one of our bedtime prayers with the kids is the prayer to St. Michael.
Jen at Conversion Diary pointed out the above link on her blog.  It was one of the things that led her from atheism to Christianity.

- This isn't the strongest opinion I've ever had, but I like Kate Nash. 

- Here's a cool story about standing up for what you believe in. 

And I will publicly admit that when I read the word "guerillas" my first thought was of "gorillas."  It wasn't until they had guns that I realized we weren't talking about the chest-thumping primates that Lydia and I imitate. 

to the woman who does everything well:

Reading your blog makes me feel bad about myself. 

Are you Queen Midas, because it seems like everything you do is golden, perfect, lovely, better.

Like, do you have to be even more beautiful as a mom than you were when you were 22?  I mean, couldn't there be something about you that wasn't as pretty?

And why do you have to accomplish everything you set your mind to?  And why do you set your mind to do the only things I'm any good at? 

I bet that since you've conquered those 2 things you'll move on to succeed at the things I'd like to be able to say I do but am too lazy to practice - like sewing, and scrapbooking, and knitting, and having my own garden, not just picking things from my parents'.  And then I bet you'll get a book deal and become a national speaker. (which is my secret dream!)

Do you secretly hate me?  Is that what this is all about?  Did I once say something stupid or insensitive and deep down you've been waiting to put me in my place?  No, I'm sure that's not it, because then you'd be just as sinful as I am and I'm pretty sure you are a way better Catholic than I.

It all just makes me want to give up, go to bed, and send my kids to be raised by you.  I'm pretty sure they'd be read to more often, do fun holiday-themed crafts, eat healthier foods, have a consistent schedule and only have 30 minutes of screen time a day - if that!

O! woe is me!

I'm not comparing my children

But Lydia rolled over at 3mo 3 wks.  She sat up by herself at 4mo.  She began crawling at 6mo 3wks.  And she was competently cruising by 8 1/2 mo, walking by 9.

Bennet, who will be 5mo on Thursday has yet to master to rolling.  He's soooo close, on the brink, but he has no interest in being on his tummy so he just stays on his back or side. 

Come on, buddy!  You can do it1


Is this completely unhealthy?  I'm not disappointed in him.  But maybe I'm paving the road for a lifetime of comparing my children.  But really, when it comes to the Better Baby Award Bennet wins hands down.  All he does is laugh, blow raspberries and smile.  He plays with his toys and falls asleep by himself in the crib.  Lydia, you may remember did few of these things the first 6 months of her life. 

*sigh*

I know, I know

My amazing children:

Bennet is no longer a newborn - he is now 7 weeks old, weighs 13lbs and is in size 2 diapers. Lydia, at almost 18months, weights 26lbs and is in a size 3 diaper.

Bennet has smiled and it's a very handsome smile indeed.

He continues to sleep very well at night, though his napping has become less great.

When I am mad I say "Damn it." When I am very mad I usually roar "This f***ing sucks!" Lydia has learned the first, I am so ashamed to admit. Thankfully I am not furious everyday (maybe once a week) and so she hasn't learned the latter expression. Believe me, I've talked about the anger and foul language with my spiritual director and have confessed it many, many times. I'm working on them.

The only good that I can find in my daughter's swearing is that she uses the phrase at the appropriate time, such as when she can't get her shoe on or has just fallen off the ottoman. I try to correct her to say "Darn it" but inside I'm amazed at how smart she is.

And lastly, Lydia has a baby doll that she takes care of when I'm taking care of Bennet. She puts it on the potty, changes its diaper, gives it a bottle and carries it around. However, what I especially love is that she will hold it to her chest and say "nurse" or hold the doll at her shoulder and say, "I know, I know" while patting its back. She has even put the nail clippers to its toenails. She is so cute and so smart!

Name calling

Hmmmm.... did anyone notice how some of the comments on the previous post were from people who completely understood my point of view though they did not resort to the immature name calling that I did?

I noticed. Good for them and shame on me.



Let me try saying this all again. Madame Speaker of the House is a very public person and also very publicly portrays herself as a practicing Catholic. Now, clearly I am a moody, quick-tempered sinner (that list could be much longer but now's not the time). Yet when I proclaim myself to be Catholic all my views are in line with the Teachings of the Church. Even things that are difficult for me to understand or agree with - I submit to the Authority of the Church. When I receive the Holy Eucharist at Mass I pray to God that I do not do so unworthily lest I heap condemnation upon my head. (1 Cor 11:27)

Ms. Pelosi receives Communion all the while misrepresenting the Teachings of the Church, something that is frustrating and even painful to see. She also, as one commenter stated, "ignores the elephant in the room" and continues to portray herself as a good Catholic even though the Holy Father himself has offered fraternal correction. This is also frustrating and even maddening to see.

I don't expect noncatholics to understand my feelings towards her on this subject. But I do hope you can understand that when one is Catholic they are supposed to live in accord to the Teachings of the Church, if you don't then you really should stop receiving Holy Communion and stop publicly portraying yourself as a Catholic. I'm not trying to kick her out of the Church, I just want her to listen to what the bishops have to say and keep her mouth shut in the meantime.

speeding in a school zone

To the jerk who passed me in front of the Morton Jr High using a turn lane:

- I was driving so slow (20mph) because it was 3:40pm on a school day and there were still children present, so I was driving the speed limit.

- The school zone speed limit goes into effect on the far side of the high school and lasts until you pass the jr high. That's why I was going so slow for so long.

- You really should adhere to the 3 second rule, and not drive your huge, stupid, gas-guzzling truck so close to the person you're following that she can't see your headlights.

- If you do it again I might have to go all Julia Roberts on you.

Be warned! I almost took down your plates and called the cops.