Ellie The Elephant

Do you see her eye? That red popped blood vessel? It looked much worst in real life.

This happened because her doggy ears where not quite as she would have liked and there wasn't enough time to fix them before we needed to leave for an appointment, which happened to be a 40 minute drive...She protested her unfinished state the entire way there and so vocally that it popped a blood vessel. 

Parenthood is full of surprises even into the sixth child.

Her spirit animal could not be better as Elephants are known for the ability to remember and their persistence. 

Almost

In a couple of weeks Paul Thomas will break into his teenage years. 

Let's let that sink in for a bit.

In no way do Philip and I feel mature enough to be parents of a teenage, and yet we will be. Last night he came to me sheepishly after I bid him goodnight, with a hint of excitement and hesitation of possible disappointment. He asked if he and his brother could listen to an audio book.

When asked by his father where he would drive to first when he got his licences, with out hesitation, "The Library."

I was struck last night by how very different I was as an almost 13 year old and how he is. It is a beautiful difference. I was so very aware of others and what they had and what I didn't. I was so very aware of body shape and sizes and thought I must be interested in the opposite sex. Maybe all of these things do go on inside of him, but last night there was innocence in a story told and companion on the journey. Keeping this innocence, letting them be children and gentle raising them into men and women centered and grounded in Christ is one of the reasons we chose homeschooling for our family. 

As of late my prayer has been to have a grateful heart, to enjoy my time educating my children. It has helped to calm the ever present, "You're not enough...you're not doing enough...you can't possible give enough because there are too many" monster that ravages the unlit parts of my soul. And at the same time there is still the ever present reality that I will nor could not be their fill. We may not be doing this parenting gig right, however last night seemed to be a glimmer of maybe we are not doing too bad.

Sweet Heaviness

It's dark and quiet. Heavy breathing fills the house. It's our time, only our time. Through my grogginess we settle down. How I wish you slept through the night. Right side first-always. Your body relaxes as does mine. Your hunger is satisfied-now for your comfort-left. I sigh as your profile is tell-tell baby. You need me still in such an intimate way, a way the others have out grown. You sigh and look up with your content half smile, eyes happily glazed. Up on my shoulder, one, two, three, four, five steps a small settling burp and your body collapses into sweet heaviness. You allow me to kiss you and inhale your fleeting moments of babyhood. You grab your blanket and roll over in your crib. I hope you wake up tomorrow night.

(I found this in the bottom of my desk drawer, it must have been written back in February or March as you did indeed start sleeping through the night soon after.)

Reminder

Here is a friendly reminder that the person staying home with the children needs to be thanked today. That person deals with a great deal of bodily fluids, every. single. day.

Go ahead and thank them and buy them some dark chocolate. 

Friday Photo Favorites

I never understood how parents could so willingly and even longingly let their little ones sloppy kiss all over them. Then, I had PT who was too much like his mother and gave kisses by gently touching his forehead to yours. Then came Avery who smiled and nestled in for a book early on, but did not give kisses. Mary Colette was the daintiest little one who by nine months had the perfect little peck and was so girly and sweet and lavished only her Daddy in the softest kisses. George came and he finally warmed us up to some the best cuddles and a few sloppy kisses. Followed by a few more sloppy kisses, only for me, from Annie. She would look at everyone else in the room get their attention and then grab my faces and just slobber and pull pack so proud of her obvious display of affection. Now for Eleanor, oh this little one gets so excited and happy she grabs the closest face and just lets loose. She gives very intentional kisses to her mommy and daddy, but every now and then she gets caught up in the moment and just plants a real doozy on a sibling, which of course shocks and delights them. They keep track of how many each has received and beg her for more which then she laughs and simply shakes her head no. Oh how we delight in her and her in us! 

You Must Be SuperMen

Five and half years ago I sat in Mass and felt a small squishy hand slide as far around my back as it could. The little boy sat quietly beside me watching not me and, well, not the priest, but his Poppy. His Poppy had his Gia wrapped in his arm, the same way I grew up seeing him do. The way, as a girl, I longed for him to put his arm around me in the same study embrace. The way I eventually longed for a husband to embrace and love me. It was a quiet, yet powerful symbol of love and protection and my little boy was trying his best to emulate it. He saw the meaning as well and knew it was powerful, somehow that action reflected a strong masculine love and he desired to show a love like that.

That was the first time it hit me...You men must be SUPER! Always, always, always there are eyes watching you, wanting to be just like you. There is no room for being super just around the littles and then being your regular old self the rest of the time. You see, my littles pick up on that lie all too quickly. Therefore, you must be super all of the time. 

No I'm not just talking to Daddies, I'm talking to all men; Uncles, Godfathers, Grandpas, Priestly Fathers and even Big Brothers. Someone is looking up to you and wanting to fill your shoes someday; make sure your shoes are worthy. 

Yes, I realize I left very little room here for you to be anything but super. I see no reason to. You men impact so very much of our future. Your examples set the stage for all the other young men in our family and society. You must be Super.

With all that said, thank you to all the men in the lives of my young men for being just that - Super.

For being worthy of emulation.

For wearing shoes well worth filling.

Thank you for being more than enough.

For being tender.

And patient.

And fun.

And brave.

Thank you for teaching lessons I can not.

Thank you for guiding Our Faith.

Thank you for being SuperMen for our children, especially our boys.

Happy Father's Day to all Men!

I don't know how you do it!

I get this alot! Especially when someone finds out we have five beautiful blessing. How do you do x, y and z? 

Here's the answer...

I don't.

They help more than you could image. Paul Thomas on his own has taken on more and more responsible with each new baby. He now proudly changes Anastasia's diaper and clothes and straps her into the carseat for us. All of this from a boy who squirms at picking up his spaghetti noodles from the floor! Yes, even dirty diapers! 

Most people when they think of how many blessings someone has can only image theirs multiplied to that number.  A funny thing though is most of the time God does not give you litters, so we don't have 5 two years running around. Instead we have a seven year old who cleans the bathrooms, picks up the books, prepares snacks and helps with meal prep and a six year old who always gets the cranky two year old up from bed and naps, sets the table, takes out the trash and compost, helps empties the dishwasher, and a three year old who helps with meal prep and folds napkins and will all too happily entertain our none year old and a two year old who will not let a shoe be left out nor a door left open and will empty the desk trash multiple times a time day. So I don't do it, we do it together as a family, all learning from one another. 

Love, Mommy

On Wednesday I froze as I was signing your birthday card, Avery. I froze as I signed all of your Christmas cards, my little ones. Somehow signing "Mommy", or "Mama" for those that still call me that, is baffling. It's putting down in ink who I am, permanently! I am a mother, I am your mother. It has been my biggest joy and highest honor that God called me to this vocation. This is enough! There is not a title more beautiful or rich than this, "Mommy". Maybe because I do not have any other titles or maybe because this one I could not earn. No, this title was gifted to me and in every way I feel unworthy and at the same time deeply humbled to have it. So for the past seven and half years I have choked up as I go to sign your cards and pray that I continue to so as to always find contentment, joy and awe in my vocation.

Hidden Success

My first day alone with all five was a success...don't believe me here is the proof:

Oh no the curtains were not broken at the beginning of the day, but then naps took place.

Oh that is oatmeal. Yes it usually is stored in the pantry, however it seems to be so much more convenient to have it scattered all over the bedroom floor. Speaking of convenient it is way more convenient to place the diapers every few feet that way when you need one just bend over and there you go! And the toys and blankets well seriously they just add to the atmosphere.

I think that I will just leave the oatmeal prep to these two, while I do dinner prep. Oh wait that's what I did.

So what might be wondering what was so successful about all this.

All made it to end of day and got a kiss goodnight.

And sometimes that is all the success that is needed.

Weekly entertainment!

 What do you get when you cross this:

One supey dupey Curly Sue with:

One Handsome Young Man?

Give up? You get your weekly dose of comic relief during our regular attended Mass time of 8:00 am. Every morning should begin with a laugh or two and we will provide those as our family awkwardly adjusts to Mass with 5 saint-makers. Please sit back and enjoy the show.

At our second Mass as a family of 7 during the passing of the collection basket (which is a new thing at our parish and is already incredibly awkward as is) every child feels the need to touch and pass the basket along with proudly flinging in their offering or slyly stashing it. We parents must be ever vigilant against this short changing Our Lord and disarming the loud accusations that will surely follow as so-and-so doesn't love God and therefore wants to spend all of eternity in you-know-where. So this part of Mass is a BIG DEAL and, well, during our recent offertory as an adult was passing the basket along to and un-named bouncy Joy Boy the basket dropped to the floor spilling all it's contents, mainly clanky change, to the floor. (Thank goodness for carpet.) Thus began the awkward shuffle of recollecting the collection and making sure that none of our children profited from this misfortune. All the while trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

Well, that was two Sundays ago.  How about the Curly Sue and Handsome Young Man? It all began as my Gentleman let his momma and sister go ahead of him in the communion line. Just as we all approached Father there was a small commotion behind momma that was steadily growing in intensity. There was some tugging and pushing, confusion, some very loud "owies" and "stop"s. After receiving, Momma turned around to give the death stare because her humiliation was growing with the volume of little girl's frustration, only to find that Curly Sue had her curls wrapped all around Handsome Young Man's suit buttons on his sleeve. So being very attached to one another Momma swiffly picked up Curly Sue and side shuffled with Handsome Young Man, while still maintaining a strong hold on Indifferent Little Brother in the other arm, to the front side of the church, set Curly Sue free who was on the verge of tears not at all understanding why her brother would inflict such pain in such a public place. Momma rescued Curly Sue into her arms while doing a very awkward baby shuffle with Almost Knight in Shining Armor, who carried the two youngest family members back to our pew so we all could endure the last awkward pew shuffle of kids now that we had EVERYBODY's attention...Don't believe me, about a dozen fellow parishioners, along with Father Hector, all commented on the commotion afterward. 

A Perfect Summary of Our Lives

A few weeks ago, Paul Thomas caught Mammasita and I "lingering" for a bit during the morning goodbye.

He stood still just long enough to ensure that everyone else noticed the awkward silence and then pronounced, exasperated, "You guys are gonna get sick."

The Deception of Sensory Data

I thought he was asleep.
Heavy, measured breathing. Involuntary twitching of tiny arm muscles. His fifteen pound body given        over completely to somniatic bliss and my right side is sweating under his PJs
Michael O'Brien's book has enraptured me. Sensory data is met with uninterested cerebral reception.
Without impetus, I turn my seeing from the pages to the crook of my arm: two dark, pure eyes meet        mine.
He has been watching me.
What does he see? His face is expressionless and not blank; his eyes pierce and do not invade.
Is he looking for something? Trying to find a real father behind all the facades I've erected?
Our brows are 6, 8 inches apart.
Neither mortal coil moves.
Knowing no human awkwardness, his gaze is fearless. He fabricates no distraction to disengage and           his innocence in challenging.
I cannot recall the last time I stared into someone's eyes for 180 seconds.
Pupils are too near the surface; Rods and cones measure only one dimension.
Father and son speak with eyes and hear with souls.
His curiosity quenched, or his quest fulfilled, pudgey eyelids collapse under their own weight.
Three, two, one.

Information on Drowning

As a parent of small children, I suspiciously view any body of water as I would an evil seducer.

Here's why:
1) Kids are curious
2) Water, of both standing and flowing varieties, is exceptionally intriguing, even for adults
3) The faculty of judgement, while burgeoning, is not developed in children to know when to stop
4) Small children cannot swim well, if at all

With this in mind and with summer upon us, I recognized how uneducated I was after reading this article about how drowning doesn't look like drowning.