After dropping the kids off at school this morning, the girls began to share their favorite memories of summer. It was really fun to listen to, as the accuracy of some of their stories is questionable. Cucumber said, "I remember when Auntie and Cousin took me to the lake and Cousin touched a boobie." I was shocked and seeing as my nephew is in his twenties and in college, I was also disturbed. Here's how the conversation played out:
Me: What did you just say?
Cucumber: I said Cousin touched a boobie.
Me: Cucumber, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.
Cucumber: Cousin went in the water and swam to the boobie and touched it.
Me: Oh my darling, darling girl. He swam out to the BUOY and touched it.
Cucumber: Yeah, that's what I said.
Praise Jesus.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Mundane Day
Monkey Toes was quick to point out that my last post really wasn't irony in its truest form. Correct he is and for those of you who are literary scholars, I apologize for the misuse of the term. Now, onto other things. . .
Today was a day filled with mundane tasks. I had a long list of things that should be done. It was difficult, as the weather was amazing - the sun was bright, the temperature was around 76 degrees, and the kids were itching to get outdoors. None the less, I knew I had to get a few things accomplished. First off was freezing sweet corn that our dear friend Donna dropped off to us last night. The girls were a huge help in husking the corn. They dressed for the occasion.
Next on the agenda was to clean out the fridge - not just go through our leftovers, but to actually scrub the entire refrigerator. I probably would have saved this job for a rainy or very cold day, but one of the drawers was a bit sticky from a mystery substance.
It is a tad bare, which grocery shopping is on the to-do list Friday. Until then, we will get by with what's in our cupboards and freezer.
Finally, I had to make laundry soap. Both my liquid and powder detergents were completely gone. I'm thankful that Sweet Potato likes to help me.
I still have a few things on my list (laundry and the skeleton of a fall craft project that I have been promising the kiddos for the last week) that will just have to be put off until another day. It is challenging for me to let things go. In my crazy mind, completed projects and a tidy house equate peacefulness. However, today I was able to experience some truly joyful moments, because I let some projects slide.
The first joyful moment came right before lunch. I was pushing the girls on the swings and they were telling jokes.
Cucumber: How do you make a tissue dance? You blow a little boogie in it. (Yes, another booger joke).
Sweet Pea: Knock Knock (who's there?) Banana (banana who?) I took the banana for a walk to the park (laughter erupts from her sisters).
Pumpkin: Naw naw (knock knock) (who's there?) orange (orange who?) Orange on the swings (again, belly laughter which could hardly be contained).
I love pure silliness from my kids on days like this. It comes from such an untainted and honest place. I may not have laughed has hard as my girls, but I certainly had a smile on my face and embraced the moment.
The second joyful moment was this evening. Monkey Toes returned from a business trip to Chicago and the kids were really excited to see him. As he laid down on the sofa to rest a little, some of the kids crawled on him and Cucumber begged him to read a story. He read A Fairy Ballet and used different voices for the characters. The kids laughter was contagious. It really was a very precious gesture.
On days like this I try to remember that it's the little things that can make the biggest impact. Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta wrote, "It is not the magnitude of our actions but the amount of love that is put into them that matters."
So whether I'm working on laundry, mopping the floor, cleaning the bathroom, or pushing my kids on the swings, my attitude towards these things is what really matters. Do I go about my day grumbling at what needs to be done, or do I offer my entire day to my Father in Heaven? I may not always be successful in doing so, but I strive for the latter.
I am not capable of doing big things, but I want to do everything, even the smallest things, for the greater glory of God.
- Saint Dominic Savio
Today was a day filled with mundane tasks. I had a long list of things that should be done. It was difficult, as the weather was amazing - the sun was bright, the temperature was around 76 degrees, and the kids were itching to get outdoors. None the less, I knew I had to get a few things accomplished. First off was freezing sweet corn that our dear friend Donna dropped off to us last night. The girls were a huge help in husking the corn. They dressed for the occasion.
Next on the agenda was to clean out the fridge - not just go through our leftovers, but to actually scrub the entire refrigerator. I probably would have saved this job for a rainy or very cold day, but one of the drawers was a bit sticky from a mystery substance.
Finally, I had to make laundry soap. Both my liquid and powder detergents were completely gone. I'm thankful that Sweet Potato likes to help me.
 | ||
| Grating the bar soap |
The first joyful moment came right before lunch. I was pushing the girls on the swings and they were telling jokes.
Cucumber: How do you make a tissue dance? You blow a little boogie in it. (Yes, another booger joke).
Sweet Pea: Knock Knock (who's there?) Banana (banana who?) I took the banana for a walk to the park (laughter erupts from her sisters).
Pumpkin: Naw naw (knock knock) (who's there?) orange (orange who?) Orange on the swings (again, belly laughter which could hardly be contained).
I love pure silliness from my kids on days like this. It comes from such an untainted and honest place. I may not have laughed has hard as my girls, but I certainly had a smile on my face and embraced the moment.
The second joyful moment was this evening. Monkey Toes returned from a business trip to Chicago and the kids were really excited to see him. As he laid down on the sofa to rest a little, some of the kids crawled on him and Cucumber begged him to read a story. He read A Fairy Ballet and used different voices for the characters. The kids laughter was contagious. It really was a very precious gesture.
So whether I'm working on laundry, mopping the floor, cleaning the bathroom, or pushing my kids on the swings, my attitude towards these things is what really matters. Do I go about my day grumbling at what needs to be done, or do I offer my entire day to my Father in Heaven? I may not always be successful in doing so, but I strive for the latter.
I am not capable of doing big things, but I want to do everything, even the smallest things, for the greater glory of God.
- Saint Dominic Savio
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Irony
The universe is full of irony and today, I experienced a little piece of it. Honey Bunches, whom I recently referred to as "a man of few words," got in trouble at school for talking too much. I actually had to re-read the note sent home from his teacher at least three times to make sure I was understanding it correctly. Well, if nothing else, my kids keep me on my toes.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Boogers & Broccoli
Our household had such a lovely day on Sunday. I was up before anyone else and snuck off to early Mass. I had this awesome experience at Mass, where everything just really came together. It is difficult to find the words to describe it, but after receiving the Eucharist, I went back to my pew, knelt down, closed my eyes and felt this overwhelming sense of peace. Even the communion song tied in to my experience (although I can't tell you today what song it was!) So I left church feeling re-energized. When I returned home, the kids shouted "surprise!" They had set out breakfast, even pouring me a bowl of cereal (they didn't wait for me to get home before adding the milk. My cereal was a tad soggy, but the thoughtfulness of the gesture was grand). They also made coffee, which they have greatly improved. Then Monkey Toes took ALL the kids to late Mass. I told him to leave the younger ones with me, but he said I could have a little more time to myself. So I was able to have another cup of coffee, get lunch made, load the dishwasher, and play on my computer.
The weather was absolutely perfect, so after lunch, Monkey took the boys golfing and the girls and I took a long walk around town. We ended up at a park, where the girls ran themselves exhausted. So home we came, took naps, watched some football, and had spaghetti for supper. During our meal time, Gummi said she had a joke to tell us. "What's the difference between boogers and broccoli? Kids don't eat broccoli." I know - yuck, however, it is funny. (By the way, this joke is courtesy of the Okie Dokie Brothers Kids music CD).
After the kids went to bed, my nephew stopped by and we visited for a long time, just catching up. We also cut into an apple pie I made, which hadn't been ready to eat after supper. It was a nice way to end our weekend. The weather was beautiful, I had fun with the kids, and I was able to relax. It was another weekend I wish I could bottle up and keep on my shelf as a reminder of my many blessings.
The weather was absolutely perfect, so after lunch, Monkey took the boys golfing and the girls and I took a long walk around town. We ended up at a park, where the girls ran themselves exhausted. So home we came, took naps, watched some football, and had spaghetti for supper. During our meal time, Gummi said she had a joke to tell us. "What's the difference between boogers and broccoli? Kids don't eat broccoli." I know - yuck, however, it is funny. (By the way, this joke is courtesy of the Okie Dokie Brothers Kids music CD).
After the kids went to bed, my nephew stopped by and we visited for a long time, just catching up. We also cut into an apple pie I made, which hadn't been ready to eat after supper. It was a nice way to end our weekend. The weather was beautiful, I had fun with the kids, and I was able to relax. It was another weekend I wish I could bottle up and keep on my shelf as a reminder of my many blessings.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
My Tender Hearted Boy
Honey Bunches is sick. He has laid on the sofa all day, curled up in a ball, sipping water, nibbling on saltines and sleeping on and off. He looks so frail and my heart aches for him. I wish I could make things all better. I would gladly take his sickness if it would mean good health for him.
Honey Bunches is a great kid, but not in the obvious sense. He is a man of few words and tends to go about his day quietly. Last year, his teacher asked Monkey Toes and I if Honey was enjoying school, because she couldn't read him, he was very quiet and didn't display much emotion one way or the other. The truth is, he likes school, does well academically, and loves playing with his friends. He doesn't like homework and tends to do just enough to get by, but I too was guilty of that a time or two growing up. As a mom, what speaks volumes to me are his actions.
This past week, I caught him doing such good and kind things. One morning, as everyone was getting ready for school and I was running around frantically, he helped his baby sister by pouring her cereal, getting her a cup of milk and then pushing her chair in for her. That same morning, he got down on the floor with Sweet Pea and helped her put her shoes on the correct feet. Yesterday, my mom came over and was helping with laundry. She brought some clothes into his room and he asked if he could help her. A few days ago, Pumpkin had climbed onto the top bunk in the girls room and couldn't get down. He went into their room to help and I heard him say, "It's o.k. Just climb down slow and I'll catch you if you fall."
What has touched me the most about his gestures is that he did all of these things without being asked. He recognized a need and just pitched in to help. I often think that is a true sign of genuineness - when a person can do good, whether or not others are watching.
I've always considered Honey to be my tender-hearted boy. Others may see him as apathetic, but deep down, he has an enormous heart, full of love and passion for life. And hopefully, very soon, he'll be up and running around, back to his old self.
Honey Bunches is a great kid, but not in the obvious sense. He is a man of few words and tends to go about his day quietly. Last year, his teacher asked Monkey Toes and I if Honey was enjoying school, because she couldn't read him, he was very quiet and didn't display much emotion one way or the other. The truth is, he likes school, does well academically, and loves playing with his friends. He doesn't like homework and tends to do just enough to get by, but I too was guilty of that a time or two growing up. As a mom, what speaks volumes to me are his actions.
This past week, I caught him doing such good and kind things. One morning, as everyone was getting ready for school and I was running around frantically, he helped his baby sister by pouring her cereal, getting her a cup of milk and then pushing her chair in for her. That same morning, he got down on the floor with Sweet Pea and helped her put her shoes on the correct feet. Yesterday, my mom came over and was helping with laundry. She brought some clothes into his room and he asked if he could help her. A few days ago, Pumpkin had climbed onto the top bunk in the girls room and couldn't get down. He went into their room to help and I heard him say, "It's o.k. Just climb down slow and I'll catch you if you fall."
What has touched me the most about his gestures is that he did all of these things without being asked. He recognized a need and just pitched in to help. I often think that is a true sign of genuineness - when a person can do good, whether or not others are watching.
I've always considered Honey to be my tender-hearted boy. Others may see him as apathetic, but deep down, he has an enormous heart, full of love and passion for life. And hopefully, very soon, he'll be up and running around, back to his old self.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Flu is for the Birds
Each year I take my kids to get flu shots, and each year I vow that I will never take them again. I will gladly turn the reigns over to Monkey Toes to get this job done. However, each year I see the little ad in the paper and I schedule all of us to get our shots right after I pick the kiddos up from school. This year I even saved some mileage by taking the family to our in-town clinic. So yesterday was all about mentally preparing for this feat. I'm sure that sounds a bit over-the-top, but past experience has taught me that children are unpredictable in situations that involve shots. I can never overly prepare.
When I scheduled the appointments, the receptionist asked if we wanted the shot or the mist. I said we all would like the mist. We showed up at 3:30, along with my mom (I needed her for back-up). While the kids sat in the waiting room, I began to fill out the paperwork - all 14 pages. Yes, you read that correctly. I had to complete, sign and date 2 pages for each person. Personally, I think the process could be a bit more efficient, but really, who am I to say? So after the 14th signature, I met up with my family and soon we were all called back into an examination room. There, lying on the counter, were 7 needles. The nurse asked, "you requested the shots, right?" I replied, "no, I asked for the mist." By the look on her face, I gathered that switching over to the mist would cause a time delay. So I told her not to worry about it. We would take the shots instead. Immediately following my reply, children began to cry - not just tears, but cries of agony in the anticipation of what was about to take place. The nurse asked, "Who is going to be first?", in which every child pointed to someone else. Honey Bunches scrunched down on the floor between the chairs, Cucumber's body was convulsing with sobs, and Gummi Bear was crying, "NO, NO, NO." The two babies were looking around, not knowing what was happening. I looked at Sweet Potato and told him to be first. Reluctantly, he sat on the table. Next was Pumpkin, who said (not cried), "ouch." Then there was Sweet Pea, who looked a little worried, but never shed a tear. Next I looked at Gummi Bear who planted her feet firmly on the ground and wouldn't budge. I had to pick her up (not an easy task), while she kicked and screamed. At this point, sweat began to run down my back. I have no doubt that my face was red. Gummi shared a piercing scream that made even the nurses flinch. I then called upon Honey Bunches who insisted that I promised him that he could go last. Lastly was Cucumber, who I think truly believed that I was torturing her. Even after the shot, and after we were back in the van and buckled in, her sobs continued. She claimed that her arm was hurt and she would never be able to use it again.
While in the exam room, I had hoped that the walls were sound proof, but as we exited, I could tell that those in the waiting room heard it all. Our neighbor was standing there, a big smile on her face, confirming that every scream, cry and holler were clearly detected. So with my pride in tow, we left the building. I felt like I had just run a marathon.
Once again, I have vowed that I will never do this again. We'll see if I remember this promise one year from now. Oh, and an update on Cucumber. Her arm is working splendidly today. So well, that she was capable of slugging her little sister for the remote control before lunch. And so it goes that our life, as usual, continues.
When I scheduled the appointments, the receptionist asked if we wanted the shot or the mist. I said we all would like the mist. We showed up at 3:30, along with my mom (I needed her for back-up). While the kids sat in the waiting room, I began to fill out the paperwork - all 14 pages. Yes, you read that correctly. I had to complete, sign and date 2 pages for each person. Personally, I think the process could be a bit more efficient, but really, who am I to say? So after the 14th signature, I met up with my family and soon we were all called back into an examination room. There, lying on the counter, were 7 needles. The nurse asked, "you requested the shots, right?" I replied, "no, I asked for the mist." By the look on her face, I gathered that switching over to the mist would cause a time delay. So I told her not to worry about it. We would take the shots instead. Immediately following my reply, children began to cry - not just tears, but cries of agony in the anticipation of what was about to take place. The nurse asked, "Who is going to be first?", in which every child pointed to someone else. Honey Bunches scrunched down on the floor between the chairs, Cucumber's body was convulsing with sobs, and Gummi Bear was crying, "NO, NO, NO." The two babies were looking around, not knowing what was happening. I looked at Sweet Potato and told him to be first. Reluctantly, he sat on the table. Next was Pumpkin, who said (not cried), "ouch." Then there was Sweet Pea, who looked a little worried, but never shed a tear. Next I looked at Gummi Bear who planted her feet firmly on the ground and wouldn't budge. I had to pick her up (not an easy task), while she kicked and screamed. At this point, sweat began to run down my back. I have no doubt that my face was red. Gummi shared a piercing scream that made even the nurses flinch. I then called upon Honey Bunches who insisted that I promised him that he could go last. Lastly was Cucumber, who I think truly believed that I was torturing her. Even after the shot, and after we were back in the van and buckled in, her sobs continued. She claimed that her arm was hurt and she would never be able to use it again.
While in the exam room, I had hoped that the walls were sound proof, but as we exited, I could tell that those in the waiting room heard it all. Our neighbor was standing there, a big smile on her face, confirming that every scream, cry and holler were clearly detected. So with my pride in tow, we left the building. I felt like I had just run a marathon.
Once again, I have vowed that I will never do this again. We'll see if I remember this promise one year from now. Oh, and an update on Cucumber. Her arm is working splendidly today. So well, that she was capable of slugging her little sister for the remote control before lunch. And so it goes that our life, as usual, continues.
Monday, September 19, 2011
One of My Favorite Days
Yesterday was our Parish Fall Festival. It is one of my favorite days of the year. I look forward to spending a day with my family and supporting our church.
Our festival is nothing outrageously spectacular. We don't have a carnival or a concert series. It is a typical rural parish gathering. We have a roast beef dinner with homemade pie, a country store, cake walk, silent auction, kids games, quilt show, a raffle, and of course BINGO. It is a place where my kids feel safe and Monkey and I feel safe in letting our kids run. I love how our parish pulls together at this time of year. We work along side one another, volunteering to work shifts, baking pies and cakes, and donating items from our harvest. Rain or shine, it is always a fun day.
I consider my parish family exactly that; an extension of my family. I've met many through worship, befriended many through councils I've served and through volunteering, and I genuinely care and love so many who have shown kindness and care to my own family. As much as I love the Church, I also love my parish. It is a place I consider part of my home. On the third Saturday of September each year, we gather to celebrate all together and to give thanks to God for all of our abundant blessings. Yes, we are truly blessed!
Our festival is nothing outrageously spectacular. We don't have a carnival or a concert series. It is a typical rural parish gathering. We have a roast beef dinner with homemade pie, a country store, cake walk, silent auction, kids games, quilt show, a raffle, and of course BINGO. It is a place where my kids feel safe and Monkey and I feel safe in letting our kids run. I love how our parish pulls together at this time of year. We work along side one another, volunteering to work shifts, baking pies and cakes, and donating items from our harvest. Rain or shine, it is always a fun day.
I consider my parish family exactly that; an extension of my family. I've met many through worship, befriended many through councils I've served and through volunteering, and I genuinely care and love so many who have shown kindness and care to my own family. As much as I love the Church, I also love my parish. It is a place I consider part of my home. On the third Saturday of September each year, we gather to celebrate all together and to give thanks to God for all of our abundant blessings. Yes, we are truly blessed!
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