Tommynado

As I was cleaning up the mess from the broken tea plate (while trying to keep the kids from stepping on the scattered shards)...

...I heard a banging on the sidelight by the front door and went to investigate...

..."Tommy! WHAT are you DOING?". "Lookit my dirty hands!" So, I sent him into the bathroom to clean up the non-water-soluble sticky stuff for a half hour or so (he loves the waterplay in the sink. Makes me wonder if that was his plan all along?)...

...I had to find where that mess came from and there it was, in the classroom, on the little plastic kitchen (his favorite place to experiment)...

...also, the stuff had burned two nasty melty holes in the carpet next to the wall..

...I changed Tommy for the fourth time, today, because he had baby cream all over his clothes and that stuff could not be trusted on clothing...but I hadn't gotten to cleaning up the stuff on the carpet or the play kitchen. I went in to rescue the neighbor girl, who was starting to discover the interesting white stuff all over the play kitchen (my freaking out at Tommy had fallen on deaf, toddler ears, I guess...what IS it with the mess magnet deal??? WHY do kids automatically sniff out a mess-making prospect in an entire house of non-messy projects and toys?) I had to change HER out of HER clothes which had been dirtied and wet from outside adventures ANYWAY and now had white stuff all over them. I found some more clean clothes for Tommy and the milk man came. While I was ordering from the milk man, Tommy came around the corner, looking like this:

"Tommy? WHERE did you find CHOCOLATE??? And what is that DUSTY STUFF all over your clean clothes?" I puzzled over what he could have possibly gotten into 32 seconds after I JUST PUT ON CLEAN CLOTHES? Could it have been a piece of chocolate from Weazy's secret stash? Could it be dust from the vacuum cleaner that was parked in the living room from cleaning up the original smashed plate mess? No. After the milk man left, I went through the kitchen to put away some milk and found this:    

 

Ah, so THAT explains THAT.

I gave up around that time. He's been just wearing his underwear ever since. One and a half loads of laundry containing JUST the clothing that they had to change out of because of sticky, icky messes, spills, food all day long was more than I could handle for one day.

 A lot of things happened to save the day but this is just ONE typical day of life with Tommy the Terrorist Toddler Tornado.

He's so super!

One Plus One Equals Infinity

Tonight, Butch and I did something we've never done in the history of our marriage since we've had children.
We went to church together...without the kids.

It all started this morning when I was having a hard time getting everything ready for the day and getting myself ready in time for church.

Then, I remembered: I have a child who can DRIVE NOW!!!

All three of the biggers went together and Butch and I made the plan to go to 6pm Mass. 6pm mass is normally not our very favorite because we're not fond of the contemporary music where the verses last FOREVER and are so repetitive that everyone around us starts looking uncomfortable...BUT, it is MASS and sometimes you just go and try to filter that stuff out.

We sat there feeling just ODD.
Here are the things we did NOT do (that we NORMALLY do, when we have kids with us):

1. Flash the peace sign across the crowded pew.
2. Take any bathroom breaks.
3. Have to move from kneeling to sitting to kneeling to sitting to walking out of church because some child is trying to get us to pick them up during the kneeling part.
4. Miss the entire Gospel and most of the homily because some child needs to be set right or brought potty.
5. Wonder how many people are staring at us and wondering "Are all those kids from those parents?".

and many other things that I thought about during Mass...that I actually kind of missed!

Yes! Surprisingly, while I was very happy to have the time to reflect on how it did feel a little like back when we were in RCIA and we would go alone together all of the time, I saw a little baby girl who was SO cute and it made me think about my little baby girl that was the first little one we brought to church...and THAT made me think of every other baby I brought to church over the years...which brought me right to the present and my little baby girl at home with my biggest baby girl...and I couldn't wait to get home to all of them.

We were walking out of church and I commented on a friend's little girl and how big she was getting. She and her husband noted "How did you get to come here with NO kids!? THAT must feel strange!"

We both laughed and kind of let out our breaths. It was SO weird to sit there the whole time with the elephant in the room being the one that was at home (namely, our missing family). I actually started to wonder if we were being stared at because we normally have so many bodies between us and the people at church maybe thought we were strangers or something! It's all about context, right?

The whole thing made me reflect on something I told a friend last night at a cancer benefit that Butch and I got to go out to last night. I was telling her that I was thinking how, someday, all of our kids will be grown and we might be faced with an empty nest of some sort. I was saying how very odd it would be and what the heck would we do without any children to care for and just each other? I thought about it a little more and then I laughed. YEAH! RIGHT! Duh... because we've increased our potential for MANY grandchildren and there will NEVER be a time when we have an "empty nest"! That's the most ridiculous thing ever! We'll ALWAYS have people in our home. Our doors will always be open to the people that need care. If it's a friend, neighbor, child, grandchild, great-grandchild...as long as we're living, we will have someone who depends on us and who we depend on to help us get through this life.

I'm so very glad to share it with the ONLY man who understands me and loves me as much as he does. I like time alone with him, but I like time with him and the people we love TOGETHER, even more.

Babies Don't Keep

I took this picture of Evangeline last night. I was reading a story to Tommy in his bed. I had my phone with me and Tommy was playing solitaire on it (to tire him out and entertain him a little before I had to go into my room and plug it in). To my surprise, Butch CALLED me from our bedroom. He said Evangeline had fallen asleep after squirming and playing around on our bed (pretty much her favorite thing to do in life) but that he couldn't move and if I just came in there, I'd find out why...

(Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she was just REALLY tired and hadn't actually passed out from the stink.)

I was cleaning out my game/craft cupboard today. For some reason, this one verse was going through my head all day as I watched the kids mill around, and play, and generally make extra messes because it was too cold and windy to go outside, and it's been that way for days and days...a lot of the time, I find myself turning away from the computer, which gets boring after a while, stopping all frantic cleaning activities, and grabbing some books to read with the kids in the rocking chair...

"Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'til tomorrow..."

It was a "crosstitch poem" on a plaque at my neighbor's house from when I was a teenager. I pretty much LIVED at that house because they had four little girls that I and my sister babysat a LOT. Someday, I'll talk about the adventures we got up at that house but today, I am just reminded of that plaque. I know the whole thing by heart, even after all these years because I'd read it every time I went over there. I never really understood it until I had children of my own:

"Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'till tomorrow.
For babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and
babies don't keep!"

It's the "Quiet down cobwebs" part that always confused me. I never realized that the poet was TELLING the cobwebs and the dust to be quiet and go to sleep...I wondered "what the heck are 'down cobwebs' and how can dust 'go to sleep'?" Heehee!

So, I looked it up and found that no one knows where the poem came from but the best guess is it might have been part of a longer poem that I've found and absolutely LOVE:


Babies Don’t Keep
By Ruth Hulbert Hamilton

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
Lullabye, rockaby, lullabye loo.
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo,
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo,
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs;
Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

I especially identify with the line:
"And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo"

My Funny Valentines

I thought it would be special to get some pretty pictures of just the girls for St. Valentine's Day. A friend of mine, Jo Girtz took these at her home studio. She just used the natural light coming through her walk-out sliding door. I thought they turned out so pretty. I got some of all of the girls together, but I have to figure out which one they want posted (and maybe do some edits!), first.

I'll have to get the boys together for an outdoor shot or something. They're WAY to active and impatient to sit pretty like the girls!

Godcousins

Butch and I were so happy to have Anna and Matt be Evangeline's godparents. Last year, when Anna was newly pregnant with Marek, we celebrated Evangeline's baptism on May 16th (the ONLY one of my children's baptism dates that I remember...only because it was exactly one month after her birth date!). They have blessed us with the honor of being Marek's godparents and we will celebrate his baptism at the end of this month (probably the only OTHER baptism date in the family that I'll remember because it is also one of my brother's birth date!).

I love this picture (taken by Trina when we were unaware she was taking it) of our first visit to their house since Marek was born. They live 2 hours away and we had a hard time getting there with a broken van and so many people that wanted to visit (no one would let anyone ELSE go if they couldn't) but we finally braved the trashy weather and bald tires and gave it a go. We made it there and back alright but it just makes us wish we could live closer and visit again and again and again...sigh.

Cute Messenger

I'd just like you all to know: I'm done with snow and cold.
So...


...on YOU, Old Man Winter!!!

Soft and Stinky

I am sitting in the rocking chair in the living room. All is quiet. Everyone has abandoned me except the squirrelly girl in my arms who FINALLY decided to drift off while nursing. I switch her to my shoulder, where she grows limp and snore-y, and shnorkly.

I'm thinking about my sister with her new baby, Marek. I'm imagining holding him and having him fall asleep on my shoulder, limp and soggy, stinky and shnorkly.

Patchy Posting

I know I haven't been really regular at posting but it's the Holidays and I've got a lot of irons in the fire. Not the least of which is an on-going project to do some work for my local Patch site. If you don't know about Patch, read on:

It's a venture to get local news to individual communities. It was started up some time last year and is spreading all over the U.S.. Check out www.patch.com and then click on your state and maybe your own city to see what's going on in your hometown!

I also happen to know the editor and he asked me to "write something" (very descriptive instructions, I know!) for our Patch. I did, and he published it yesterday!

Here's a link to the story I told about my dad and how he made Christmas time very special for us every year: Click on the word PATCH
I've told the story before, I'm sure. I thought I had told it on here, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Then, I remembered that I had actually told it to our mom's group a few years ago and I remember how I was amazed at the reaction from a lot of the women in the group.

I think that people didn't have such rich traditions as my parents started in us. It made me understand just how important it is to HAVE traditions, even if it's just little ones, such as: "My mom and dad ALWAYS have us say prayers as a family before bed."

Kids form their memories around repetition, don't they? It's so important for them to have "something to hold on to" when their thumb doesn't taste so good anymore and their favorite blanky can't go with them to their office job. The comfort of a good family tradition will make them feel warm and snuggly even out in the cold, dark and lonely world...at least, that's what it has done for me!

So, read that story, curl up with your kids on these cold winter nights, and start some new traditions of your own. It's never too late!

P.S. My 16 year old daughter took that picture of my dad. She's very talented!

Nice Ice For Sale, Ten Cents A Pail

Analise and Niklaus, making the best of the dome-crushing 2010 blizzard.

Advent Freakout

I thought about doing "a post a day" in December but Lord only knew it wasn't happening. The transmission went out on the big gray bus, my baby sis had her first baby, I had to do a job for St. Michael Patch (our new local news site...check to see if you have a Patch.com site for your town!), I put Trina in a few classes at the high school, and there are many many many other things still on the schedule until before Christmas.

I can't wait until Lent.

Lent is more of a time waiting than Advent is. Advent seems to be a little more "bustle-y" for our family and it's not a matter of going around freaking out about gifts. It's more of a time of everything-falls-to-crap and we're playing catch up all month.

Maybe it's the same for a lot of other families. I know that things aren't all bad or dramatic (like a new baby or two!) but it feels like I've been on overdrive and it's always one step forward, then WHAMO back about 10 steps. I need to focus more on the 'reason for the Season'. Of course, everyone needs to be reminded of that this time of year, right?

Part of my new project was to visit businesses in the area so I got to see a lot of what was available in my town and I've actually gone back to 6 of the businesses (so far) to purchase something in the past 3 days. I stopped by a computer refurb store and bought a computer so this one doesn't have any pictures loaded up on it yet for that oh-so-exciting picture people always want to see with a new post.

I'll illustrate with words:

I look like an old lady with about 10 new wrinkles, unshaven legs, barely showered body, haircolor that's all worn out, my house is a disaster area, my kids are ignored, my hubs is yelling at me to stop writing on my blog and get back to work, and I gotta gooooooo......

Adios. Until I have a minute to breathe.

P.S. My legs are always unshaven this time of year. I just threw it in for your extra added enjoyment.

Soft and Stinky

I am sitting in the rocking chair in the living room. All is quiet. Everyone has abandoned me except the squirelly girl in my arms who FINALLY decided to drift off while nursing. I switch her to my shoulder, where she grows limp and snore-y, and shnorkly.

I'm thinking about my sister with her new baby, Marek. I'm imagining holding him and having him fall asleep on my shoulder, limp and soggy, stinky and shnorkly.

Seestairs, Seestairs

Around this time of year, I like to get into the holiday season by watching the classic "Christmas Movies".

Here's a short list of the Advent MUST SEEs:

How The Grinch Stole Christmas

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Miracle on 34th Street

Elf

and, of course, White Christmas

To tell you the truth, I only just watched White Christmas for the first time about 15 years ago, right around this time of year. We were living in an apartment in Monticello, and we had these neighbors, who rented a house on the other side of the parking lot. The mom was a few years older than me and was very...different from me. They had a couple of children together and their names were the first and last name of a famous musician. The man they named their kids after, happened to be a cousin of the dad of the family.

The kids played with little Trina and were very sweet, if not just a little rambunctious. The kids had very little discipline because their dad didn't work and their mom worked all the time. All in all, they were a nice family and they always had time for a visit. One day, the little girl (who was about 7 at the time) asked me if I'd watch a movie with her. She pulled out her FAVORITE tape and the whole family spazzed out when they found out I'd never watched it. The dad, especially, was aghast. "You mean you've nay-ver seen the White Christmas? Aye! It's the BES! OH! (singing in flat, out of tune voice) Seesters, seesters dare wear nehvar sohch deevoted seestairs...?" When I blankly stared at him (I mostly was just so surprised he had suddenly become so animated!), he looked at me with a "HOLY GUACAMOLE, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN THIS AWESOME MOVIE BEFORE!" look. Clearly, me never seeing this movie was something he needed to remedy so, I settled down to watch this SOUPAIR movie with the family. After about 10 minutes, the dad was asleep, snoring on the couch.

I thought the movie had REALLY bad acting but the songs were good. When the movie came to the famous "Sisters" song, I finally figured out what the Mexican dad was trying to sing and it took all the couth I could muster to not bust a gut. The dad woke up at the end of the movie, scratched his stomach and offered me a beer. He then asked what I thought of the movie. I politely declined on the beer issue, and told him I liked it very much, thank you. He eyed me, warily, and asked if I wanted to borrow it. Of course, I borrowed it and watched it again. I needed to see what it was about that film that moved this family so much. It's almost like it provoked instant happiness in this family and it was OBVIOUSLY something on which they all agreed.

I still can't figure out what is so great about that movie. The only thing that I like about it is the sisters song. I felt so sorry for Rosemary Clooney because she was such an ugly duckling compared to Vera-Ellen. When I looked up Vera-Ellen on IMDB, I saw this unfortunate paragraph at the end of her bio:

It was discovered that Vera-Ellen silently battled anorexia throughout much of the 50s before doctors had even coined the term or devised treatments. Moreover, she developed severe arthritis following her retirement and was forced to revert to dance lessons again in order to combat it. If that wasn't enough, she had to endure two failed marriages while losing her only daughter, Victoria Ellen Rothschild, to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) in 1963. These tragic events turned her into a virtual recluse. Little was heard for decades until it was learned that she had died of cancer in Los Angeles, California, on August 30, 1981. Less remembered today compared to several of the big stars that shared the stage with her, Vera-Ellen was a lithe and lovely presence who deserved so much more. Nevertheless, she has provided film lovers a lasting legacy and deserves to be called one of Hollywood's true dancing legends.


Whoa. No thanks. Hollywood sucks the life of the soul, doesn't it? By the way, I learned that Rosemary Clooney's son, Miguel Ferrer is the crabby boss guy on Crossing Jordan. Also, he was in Robocop. He's George Clooney's first cousin. Weird.

So, around about this time of year, every year, I watch that movie again, wonder if I'm missing something about how great it really is, wonder what ever happened to that strange family, remember the Mexican dad's rendition of the sisters song, and I giggle.

The Most Frivolous, Stupid Post I've Ever Posted

Prince William is engaged. I thought when he was very young and when he became a teenager that he was going to be a VERY good looking man and I always thought, "Poor, poor Prince Harry, he's so awkward and funny looking. He'll always be 'second best'."

Recent pictures of the two, however, have altered my original thinking.

Prince William is looking an awful lot like his dad. He's got that funny shaped head, goofy horse teeth, and those sharp features are seeping through.

Prince Harry is turning out to be a very handsome man.

This opinion has been confirmed by my teenage daughter and google searches of images, at all ages, of the two.

Also, Prince Charles might be suffering the effects of all of those years of royal inbreeding. He's pretty much a total nutcase these days.
The End
P.S. I will never talk about this again.

New Stuff Never Gets Old

I can't believe I've known this child for 5 months and had no idea that she had this...this...this THING inside her mouth that entire time!


Oh, it doesn't look so...well...so obnoxious at this angle, but just you wait...

And THIS is only half-mast!


Here it is. Yes, it DOES look like those Tom & Jerry cartoon shots where Tom's tongue comes out of his mouth and Jerry walks up it like its a set of stairs. This thing is so weird, I just HAD to capture it in all of its glory and present it to you for your careful observance. Do you think she might be some kind of alien, switched at birth when I was taking a bath in the hospital? She looks otherwise normal, but I have my suspicions.

(We were both laughing so dang hard, it was almost impossible to take these pictures! It's this weird new trick she's been doing and there's no rhyme nor reason to why she does it...I think she just LIKES to do it, so she does!)

Momento Mori

*"Funny when you're dead, how people start listenin'..."

Sure like them there lyrics, yup I do.

Allrighty, so here's what's going on in my head this week:

What are my final wishes?

I've already expressed, to many people, some of these desires for my unfortunate demise but I figured I'd keep a place for all of them, right here on my blog, for all to see eternally, forever and ever, amen.

1. Everyone must wear black at my funeral. No clown colors.

2. I want a black cover for my coffin, no white. This isn't China and dead doesn't mean white...it means black. Dead, dead, deeeeeeeduh. Death=black.

3. I don't particularly like cut flowers so, if you MUST, bring something my kids can plant in the yard and that won't depress them so make it something pretty that you can't kill...like my favorite, LILACS!

4. I won't be a ghost and I won't come back to send you any messages, or leave you pennies, or make you feel like I'm watching you when you're picking your nose, or read my caringbridge page (if someone made one for me), or read facebook, or even this blog, or whatever so get over it already. I will either be A: in Heaven and won't want to leave but I'll put in a good word for you...or B: in purgatory where there is not escape so pray for me instead of look for me in the corner of that picture where you thought you saw a Laura shaped shadow...or C: in that other place (I don't THINK I'll be there, but one just really never knows and I'm pretty sure you can't leave once you get there, anyway so the issue of whether I'd be around to bug you if I went there is probably moot.).

5. If there HAS to be music at my funeral, please make it Latin chant? Just, just PLEASE don't torture me with the "Yoo Hoo" song at one more stinkin' funeral? You KNOW which song I mean: "YOO HOO dwell in the shelter of the night..." and YES, I do realize that I probably won't be there to punish you with a major haunting if you play that yoohoo song, but you don't know that FOR SURE, so, just to be safe. NO YOO HOO SONG!!!

6. Closed coffin. I don't want people's last sight of me to be in fake makeup and for people to see my chewed up fingernails wrapped lovingly around some rosary that should be left to my kids. Nope, I don't want to be dressed at all and I would PREFER to be cremated but there's no guarantee that every little dust bunny would be buried in sacred ground so bury me in a cheap coffin, no frills, not fluffy satin blankies, no artifacts, no jewelry (I'm not a time capsule, for pete's sake!) and no clothes. I want the worms to do their darndest RIGHT AWAY. No mouldering for years and years. Blech.

7. No leaving trinkets and notes at my graveside. I can't read them. I'm DEAD. I can't touch or enjoy anything left where my stone is placed, so offer it to some living person. I don't even need flowers brought there. Just visit the site to make sure nobody's desecrating it, say "howdy, Laura" and give me a quick wave (if you must) and a prayer. That should do the trick.

8. You may briefly sob and carry on at my funeral. You can go ahead and make a giant posterboard of pictures of me but only if they are at least 80 percent of me making faces or dressed in a funny costume. I want people to remember me as a person who made them laugh, not as some forgettable whiner who wasn't very good at math and who was quite selfish and boring when you really think about it. Also, most of the pictures should be of my kids because they got all of my good features and that's how I'd like to be remembered.

9. I want pall bearers to ACTUALLY CARRY out my sorry carcass. No "honorary" wimps, only real life giant men get to carry my coffin. If you followed rule number 6, it shouldn't be a problem. Yep, that's me! "Light as a feather, stiff as a board!"

(I reserve the right to change my mind and add to this list. I don't expect to keel over anytime soon, I've just been thinking a lot about death since my 38th birthday is coming up. Forty is one foot in it and I've been feeling my mortality lately.)