Did I mention All Saints' Day?

Here is the game we played for All Saints' Day

Celebrity Death Match: Nicholas vs Arius

Click the picture to see St. Nick in action!

SAINT NICHOLAS THE PLAGOLOGIST, POSSIBLY THE 1ST 'MUSCULAR CHRISTIAN'

by Christopher Wright

Saint Nicholas was my kind of Saint,
If sometimes short of temper.
Though pacifism was not his bent;
He was fidelis semper.

When Arius denied his Lord's
Divinity, Nick felt sore;
Decided acts speak more than words,
Felled Arius to the floor.

His kind of knock-down plagologue*
Is now not to our taste.
We value courteous dialogue
Above such wordless haste.

And yet there is a time, one feels
To strike and not to speak.
When Reason with Unreason deals,
It's reason which is weak.

For who can mould a brain of mud
With philosophic lore?
Better to thump the stupid crud.
His place is on the floor.

An up close look at Arius

James thought this was a great game

Thomas showed his muscle before taking Arius down

(Thank you to Lina and Faith and Family Live for sharing the poem!)

Homeschool Imaginary v. Real

Had a conversation about this just last weekend.  I asked a friend, "How's homeschooling going?"  She quickly peeked around and said, "I just want to make sure no one else is listening....."

My brother seems to have the same sorts of issues as we do.

Thankfulness

Things I am thankful for this morning:

An opportunity to mop my bathroom floor.
And clean the closet carpet.
And wash the towels.
And having homebirthed so I had a bunch of towels to mop up the mess from the overflowed sink.
And for finding my pink running hat under the homebirth towels.
And for the tupperware of absorbent things under the bathroom sink.
And for the used absorbent things that I can now replace with Mamacloth.
And for having to clean out the undersink tupperware and finding one last set of contact lenses.
And for my "Mamacita needs a margarita" shirt being clean today 'cause that's how I'm feeling.
And for friends--for a bajillion reasons right now.
And for new friends who teach me great words like "awesomesauce".
And for Confession since "awesomesauce" is not anywhere near what I said first.
And for, for once, making my Morning Offering when I was feeling crabby so that all this goodness didn't go to waste.

Today

Recently, I've been reflecting on the idea that 12 is really only 2 plus 10.  Two year old emotional fragility, two year old limiting testing, two year old blossoming into a new level of independence...with 10 years of self-discipline and experience to give it a different flavor.  Fortunately, I've always enjoyed 2 year olds.
*****
My niece has recently told me that she wants to come live with me because I am so much fun.  I was going to tell her this isn't really true, but when I went to write her back, I realized that I am in the midst of planning a week off of our usual curriculum to do star-gazing, a field trip to the local kids science museum, and a morning riding in and learning about hot air balloons. These are on the same week as Halloween and All Saints Day parties.  


Isabel, come visit.
*****
Tonight the kids tried to help me make a grocery list for tomorrow morning.  The conversation went, "How about [delicious food]?" followed by a chorus of "Not, that!" Since I'm going through a phase where nightly I say, "I have to cook dinner again?", things are looking bleak. 


On the list right now:  baby wipes.  
Yum.
******
Last weekend, we all went on a family campout for AHG.  The computer ate the pictures, so while I can find them on Iphoto, Blogger can't.  This one is courtesy of my friend Jill.

7:15 last Saturday Morning

Dad and son going on a Cub Campout
2 Boy Scouts prepared for a weekend of being "grub masters"
at the Snake Farm Campout

2 American Heritage Girls set for a day at the zoo

She loved the bug so much she touched it over and over

This is James' hand touching
the Madagascar hissing cockroach

Maria really liked the albino crocodile

One Glorious day of computer time

We few, we happy few. 

 Salvae. For one brief moment you will enjoy the awesomest May in the gaggle.

ME!

            Through the years I have been the background character with Pooh Bear,
Anthony. But not today! So, brief gallery of of pictures anyone?

I loathe the smell of cigar smoke.

This is Thomas, not as good looking as me. Though we mostly
work together, we fight ohhhhhh every 5 hours.

 

                                                                                                                      

We seem to bear a remarkable resemblance.

My typewriter.

Me in my successful scout career.    

Through my life I must attribute my successes to three people:  my mom, Thomas and Pooh Bear.
So, bye for now, and we will see you next week on the Mays' Days.

Christmas Shopping

Carmen gives to Dominic

Alan L. gives to Michele

Victoria gives to Theresa

Marc gives to Doug

Chrysostom gives to Thomas

Catherine gives to Juliana

Michele gives to Alan L.

Doug gives to Marc

Jonathan gives to Rachel

Monica gives to Cecilia

Patrick gives to Gregory

John gives to James

Theresa gives to Victoria

Alan C. gives to Charles

Isabel gives to Maria

Gregory gives to Patrick

Juliana gives to Catherine

Stephen gives to Bill

Laurence gives to Anthony

Paula gives to Jonathan

Naomi gives to Joseph

Rachel gives to Paula

Bill gives to Stephen

Thomas gives to Chrysostom

Anthony gives to Laurence

Maria gives to Isabel

Charles gives to Alan C.

Cecilia gives to Monica

James gives to John

Joseph gives to Naomi

Dominic gives to Carmen

Clone Army: who's who?

One of them rolled over today!

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

Winter Hat on our 3 month old

Yellow

We repainted the foyer a fresh yellow, and I really like it.

Maria has recently learned how to use my wrap.

Tonight we were super excited when we figured
out how to have her wear Dominic on her back. 

Career Goals

Overheard in the van:


"When I grow up, I want to be a nun who can't drive!"

"When I grow up, I want to be a priest person."



Well, all righty then. 

Maria

Maria has been commenting that I never share any memories from when she was little.  I knew this already.  I can hardly remember her as a baby.  Whether it was sleep deprivation, untreated PPD, or simply being in the Mommy Tunnel doesn't matter to her.  She wants to hear cute stories about herself as a baby.  Not the same old one about how used to cry if there was a breeze...or how she used to bang her head on the side of the crib to make her brothers laugh.

Maria, today I found these notes marked "2004" in an old scrapbooking bag.  I gave you the pens.  Here are your stories, some more recent:

Until you were 3 years old, you would not speak in public.

You have always wanted to do what your big brothers were doing, whether it was baseball, scooters, kindergarten, potty training or Harry Potter.  And because you are so mature, I often forget that you are two years younger.

Like the big boys,  you loved the pizza park at the National Zoo and always wanted
to spend the whole day there instead of going to see the animals.

When I was pregnant with Cecilia, you used to call her "pickle".  A few years later, Daddy took all of you to Arlington while you were there you said you wanted to be a nun and Cecilia did too.  "Don't you, Cecilia?" you asked.  "Yes!" she said.

Daddy didn't believe you and said that if you asked Cecilia if she wanted to be a pickle, she would say yes.  Then you asked her if she wanted to be a pickle, and she said "no."  This is notable because it's the last time you wanted her to do something with you.

Sorry, darlin', it took me 8 years to learn how to do your hair well.
This was not that day.

You have always had an affinity for mud.  And though you laughingly resent it, I think you secretly love it when the park ranger at Weymouth calls you "outdoor girl."

You love being the center of attention...sort of.

And finally, to remind you we have a date in 4 years to run the army 10 miler.  You often and with enthusiasm choose big projects.  My job to be sure you accomplish them!

Fish and Poi, Poi and Fish...

Don't you miss record jackets?

Growing and growing--8 weeks old already

I can't believe how the summer has flown by.  Dominic has already been smiling at us for almost a month, and now he coos and sometimes even goes to sleep without too much trouble.  Recently he got salmonella, probably from someone with dirty hands letting him suck on their finger.  He had a few very unhappy days, but now he is much better.  A few weeks ago we started easing into school, and mostly he has worked with me rather than against me by napping nicely in a pack and play in the living room.  

Dominic in his wrap and apron helping me make tortillas.

8 weeks old

Wearing his new outfit from our super great midwife

Enjoying some special brotherly love from James

Hail Holy Queen

We're not sure the tambourine is really appropriate for church....

Anti-versary

antiversary:  a term referring to the experience that despite 364 happy days a year, the anniversary always seems to be an epic fail.


Yesterday Bill and I both made a Herculean effort to be at 5pm Mass. In June Thomas borrowed $10 from me for a stipend so he could request a Mass for us as an anniversary gift.  August 10th was taken, so he chose the vigil.  I should have made it back from the airport with plenty of time but didn't count on a Charles having a nosebleed and 2 desperate bathroom stops for James to slow us down.  Bill should have been able to skate out of work early but didn't count on drama which only grudgingly allowed him to come for part of the Mass and then go back to work.

It was a lovely Mass, Anthony served, the kids were good, the readings inspiring....and Msgr. read the wrong intention.  He didn't just read the intention for the noon Mass; he read the name of the person who had requested the noon Mass.  Sigh.  He apologized afterward, and we all know it was meant for us.  :)

Over coffee this morning Bill and I discussed some of our favorite anitversaries:

Dinner of grease with a side of cigarette smoke while listening to our song on the jukebox at the Waffle House (1st)

Delicious expensive dinner at a mafia owned restaurant.  Unfortunately, we were not actually speaking to each other (3rd)

Paying for a sitter...so we could have dinner with the commanders of Bill's battalion (4th)

Overnight without kids in downtown Honolulu ending shortly after Bill got hit by a car as we were walking to breakfast (5th)

Bill in the ER with kid with possible broken arm and me at homeschool conference planners' dinner (9th)

Add to that ranger school, deployments, and other little bumps in the road, and this year seems pretty good.

Dominic's song

Here's some music to go along with the slideshow of Dominic's baptism.



My brother did an older baptism rite with a Mexican flair.  The bread, salt and lime were all integral to the baptism.  We saved the tequila for later.  The older rite is all about the godparents, so Bill and I stood aside and while Mike and Paula dealt with the very unhappy baby.   He just didn't know what was best for him.  Good thing we're the parents, right?


Created with flickr slideshow from softsea.

Dominic--2 week old cuteness

Dominic's birth

Dominic's story will always begin with our decision to have him at home.

With the 7 kids we already had filling our days and the two babies we lost last year, Bill and I have had a variety of good and bad experiences with hospital births. Over the the years good friends have shared their encouraging experiences with homebirthing, but it always sounded too risky and crunchy and not for us.

Our minds were more open after seeing the movie The Business of Being Born, and when we found out in Oct that I was pregnant again, we decided to look into homebirthing with Donna. It didn't take much--was it her saying "Stop running and gain weight"?--for me to feel like this was the right place for me to be. And that is how, after 40+ weeks of pregnancy, appointments that felt like Mom's Day Out with the kids in tow, and lots of repeating "a certified nurse midwife is a medical professional" to concerned friends and family, we found ourselves here.

At 8:40 pm on Tues I called Donna and told her--or she told me?--it was time for her to come.  Between contactions Bill and I got sleeping bags and kids together and Bill dropped them off at our friends' house.

Unfortunately, a severe thunderstorm blew up immediately after I called Donna to come, so they drove almost an hour in the pouring rain and on the way one of their windshield wipers blew off. The room we chose for the birth flickered with the lightning outside which was a beautiful distraction for me while I bounced on a birthing ball and waited.

11:10 pm About an hour after Donna, Dawn and Karen arrived, I was at 8 cm,
  in the birth pool and laughing with Bill while telling the story of how we met.

12:30 am An hour later I realized I was having too much fun and would have
to force myself to focus if I was going to ever have a baby.

Joseph's birth had been so fast and easy that when this baby didn't just shoot out, I was surprised...and even at one point missed Pitocin!  Well, Pit does the work for you.  Without it, I had to spend several contractions praying and telling myself to move into a better position.

1:10 am with minutes to go:  In the hospital it had been hard for Bill
to be close with all the wires and tubes.  When I felt him take my hand
and start rubbing my hair during a rough contraction, I instantly relaxed.
I felt so grateful that we were where we were.

And then...tada!  There was this little person in my arms and
Bill was grinning at me.  We all felt all along that the baby would be a girl, but we decided
to look anyway.  My determination: "It's ... an umbelical cord?"  I couldn't see.

A boy! A boy!  We have another boy!

So surprised and so happy!

Shortly after this things became more serious when I started to hemorrhage.  Donna's eyes became more focused and intense beneath her headlamp as she took control of the situation.  While Donna directed everyone and massaged my uterus, Dawn gave me meds and started an IV and Bill kept time.  The atmosphere was calm and under contol, and Bill and I felt very comfortable the whole time--not at all nervous or fearful.  In about 15 minutes Donna's face relaxed and she took off her headlamp and smiled. 

I thought my brother John would enjoy seeing this pic of the baby being weighed
on a fish scale.  The IV and the scale are also a nice juxtaposition
of the different ends of the spectrum of midwifery care.

Newborn exam shows we have a healthy 8 lb boy. 

We are so grateful to have little Dominic Peter here as a part of our family.  The kids are ecstatic and a little too enthusiastic to see him, kiss him and love him.  Bill will be home for a few weeks to help while I recover, and I feel typically tired but otherwise fine. Baby Dominic is eating, sleeping, snuggling, and working his way deep into our hearts just like he should