Summer Time fun despite my mom the teacher....

I love summer.  Seriously.  I LOVE summer.

I am certain that my love of summer has been dramatically enhanced since moving up to snowland.  Summer is a time to be treasured.  Embraced.  Enjoyed.  Lived.  Relished.  Savored. I could go on but I'm limited not only with my vocabulary (I don't have my thesaurus on this lap top right now) BUT my two year old is being entertained by Veggie Tales, "God is Bigger Than the Boogie Man" and it's only a half hour show so I MUST type quickly!!!!

Back to summer.

I LOVE summer.  Right now, there are 11 1/2 more days of school.  Technically my older two are finished with classes a week from today, but the younger ones have school until June 23rd.

I can't wait.  No more homework.  No more early wake ups (oh, who am I kidding, I have a two year old AND a nursing baby....) No more rushed mornings and lunches packed every.single.day.

Disclaimer here, i don't pack my kids lunches.  I have taught them how to pack their lunches and they've been doing it since Kindergarten.  Seriously, I don't have time to pack five lunches.....

But not to say schedules are flying out the door this summer..... One thing my blessed children have that many do not is a teacher for a mom....

My kids love the fact that I'm a former teacher. (eye roll here...)

Ok, maybe not.

I tend to make sure the learning doesn't end on the last day of school....but in my defense, studies show that children do tend to forget quite a bit during the two months they are off.  Hence why most schools spend an entire quarter on review the first nine weeks of school!!

So I'm here today to share my standard summer vacation.  I don't by any means, want to project that we stick with this schedule (minus the camps/band activities that we paid for, of course)but it's a general idea of what we do to not only enjoy summer, but keep to a little bit of schedule so that we don't turn to complete mushpots..... Not that mushpots are a bad thing....

This picture I actually stole from an awesome blog I was just recently introduced to,  handsfreemomma.  She's amazing.  But this is something I've been doing with my own children for some time now.  It just looks all neat with this picture....
Each one of my children (school age of course, which is five kiddos-the two year old will have something similar, but mostly geared to just free draw) will have a folder and journal similar to this.  They will also have a handwriting book.

This is the 5th grade version I have, but I also will have the second grade version (my now first grader is desperate to learn cursive and this book introduces it nicely), the seventh grade version, and two copies of the eighth grade version.  My older two will both be in high school next school year, but they spend zero time writing in cursive during school, so this is how they will refresh their memory!

If you want to see where I got these amazing books, click here

I would go into detail about why writing in cursive is very important in our children's development, but remember, I'm on a time crunch and I can save that one for another blog.  Common core has basically wiped the idea of even needing cursive since we are fastly becoming a tech only world.  I digress, but be assured, there is nothing more important than encouraging both sides of our brain during adolescence and cursive handwriting is a GREAT way to use our brains productively that NO electronic device or keyboard can replicate.

Back to summer time fun.

So in my children's folders will be those handwriting books.  There will also be a reading log!  Now my oldest has to read Jane Eyre for 10th grade Honors English, so her log may just be to note how often she spends reading that particular novel and then we will re-evaluate another "mom choice" novel she will do after.  Reading logs are so easy to find.  Seriously- google free reading logs.  You'll be amazed....

Here is just one example of one I currently have on file.  There are so many out there, but here is one website I "borrow" from often.  (hey, it's FREE!!)  Click here

For each child, I evaluate what reading level they're in to determine how many books I expect by the end of summer.  My future second grader is just getting into chapter books, but still enjoys picture books, so I will encourage her to choose a few chapter books, but will expect her to read about 15-20 books.  (this is not a lot when you think about how many millions of fun books are at the library!)
My future 5th and 7th graders I will encourage and expect about 10-12 chapter books, and of course, depending on the books, will re-evaluate if they choose long novels.

My future 9th grader will of course depend on what is assigned for summer, if anything.  He is an AVID reader, so I imagine I can assign him at least 5-10 big novels and he'll have zero problem completing that challenge.

For a list of age appropriate books, check your local library first.  Our library always has a GREAT list of books for each grade level.  Not to mention, teachers are more than willing to share great books their kiddos would probably enjoy reading for the summer.  If you're still at a loss, click here 
That is a GREAT list with all kinds of genres of fun!

Now, also in these folders, will be a fun, pretty, attractive, nice looking, handsome, (whatever else adjective to describe for your child's fun summer journal) will be a notebook, AKA, journal for writing prompts.

Writing prompts are so very easy.  Seriously.  Once a week I will encourage (don't you love my vocabulary?  Encourage can also be traded for the word, expect...) my children to write a paragraph or more using a writing prompt list I will include in their folders.  If you can't find any prompts online, make up your own.  I'll post the list I "borrowed" off the internet.  (again, Handsfreemomma blog- love this lady!!!)

20 writing prompts to do with your children...

Click on that link because suddenly, my computer has decided to stop copying and pasting and I'm running out of minutes!!!!

So that's the folder for summer.  There will also be a great challenge to remain technology free as much as possible this summer.  Now, along with the folder of fun (ha!) I also will register them for a math program (either IXL or another I find that would be more appropriate for older grades) for them to complete a few days a week to keep their math skills sharp.  Most of these are just basic math fact practices which are essential for keeping up with the enormous math challenges for the younger grades (don't get me started on common core again...).  This will be completed with a time chart for each child.  I haven't found one I like yet, so I may have to post that at a later date-but it goes along with my "tech free as much as can be" summer challenge I plan to implement.

There is nothing sadder than seeing my kids walking around with electronic devices glued to their hands.  I don't want this for numerous reasons, but the biggest reason is missing the present moment.  I have a feeling (me seriously included in this) if we took a long hard look at how much "tech" time we spend on our devices, whether phone, computer, ipad, ipod, etc, we'd be terribly surprised at how much time we spend on these things.  Spending some time isn't bad in and of itself, but there have been times where I started looking for meals on Pinterest and before I knew it, 1 1/2 hours had passed and no recipes were printed off..... I was sucked in to the WWW and couldn't get out....Kinda reminds me of that scene from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory???

So this summer, my children will not be able to be on their devices or the computer (which BTW- as a little advertisement from my awesome law enforcement husband- keep those devices, all of them, out of their bedrooms, ok?  Even the ipod touches are literally, little computers with access to the WWW and access to all the dangers of the WWW, so for Pete's sake, keep them in a high traffic area....)-until they have completed a few tasks prior.

1.  Made their bed.  (this is much harder than most would think.  You would think I was asking for a kidney or blood draw...)
2. Cleaned up their rooms (get this, if they go to bed with it straightened up, this won't be that difficult)
3. Eaten breakfast and loaded their bowl/plate in dishwasher.  (remember, I don't make lunches, so guess what else I don't do????)
4. Helped unload dishwasher and put up dishes from prior night (not too much to ask since most of these are from them anyway!!)
5. Completed their assignments from their summer fun folders.
6. Completed their camp/band lesson/swim lesson.  Four of my kids are doing summer band on Tuesday and Thursday from 10-12.  One is doing swim lessons on Monday and Wednesday (literally 30 minutes) and three have basketball and volleyball camps.  My son starts high school marching band in July, but that is in the evening, so we'll evaluate his tech time when we get there....

So that's it!  Just a snippit from a crazy momma of crazy kids and how we'll spend our summer.  It's not concrete, written in stone, and it's completely open to days that we decide to pack a picnic and head to a great spot, visit friends and swim, or anything else that pops up for us to explore.

This summer- try to enjoy every moment you can.  It's so important to be "present" for your children.  You won't get this moment back ever again.  Make it the best moment you can.

To God be the Glory!!

Night terrors, wandering toddlers, and overactive imaginations....

So last night was probably the worst night in a month or so....it started out alrite, but by bedtime, I knew I was in trouble...grab a cup of coffee, a hanky, some laughing gas and hold on....

My husband is out of town.

I don't handle his work trips.   I always have this amazing image of me standing there, toddler at my leg, baby on my hip, with my superwoman cape on as I wave goodbye to the hubs.  I turn around and walk back into the house and with the snap of a finger, my entire house is cleaned, dinner is simmering on the stove, and the children are blissfully working on homework or playing dutifully outside and smiling with that June Cleaver, Leave it to Beaver, smile....

Than reality hits.

I realize (that's the reality part), that he's gone for a super extended amount of time, there's nothing planned for dinner, the house is a train wreck (believe me, when there is an unflushed bowel movement in the toilet, I can assure you, it's a train wreck....), and my sanity, (which was never really there to begin with) left in that big ole work suburban the hubs drove off in....

For the week up to his departure, I began to experience what I like to call, mini heart attacks.  In all actuality, they are these very annoying panic attacks that feel like heart attacks.  It's a pain, right in the center of my chest towards the top, that comes as quickly as it leaves but unfortunately, makes my panic even WORSE because I'm convinced it's my heart.  I'll even have heart palpitations because I'm so worried it's a heart attack.  (yes.....I know....my husband is up for sainthood....)

So he left.  I turned back and walked into my train wreck of a house and sat down and had the first of several pity parties in my head....

We managed to get through dinner (bowls of cereal, sandwiches, and whatever else we could find...)and got to the time I dread the most....

Bedtime.

Why is bedtime such a nightmare for me?  I will enlighten you....

I have seven children.

Oh wait, that's a lie.  Well, not the seven children part.  It's a lie for me to say bedtime is a nightmare because I HAVE seven children.  Bedtime has always been a nightmare, since the introduction of children in our home....

For some reason, bedtime in my house becomes something that more resembles the aftershock of a war.  There are wet towels, naked bodies, dirty clothes, and crying babies for a good part of an hour and that's just with the youngest two.  Dealing with the older five is ten times worse because one would think they would KNOW better than to leave wet towels and dirty clothes lying all over the place, but oddly, they don't!  So once I finish telling my children in the kindest mom voice I can find to clean up.....(Ok, that might be stretching the truth a bit) I am exhausted and it's only EIGHT O'CLOCK!

So we gather in my room for prayer time.  I need this more than they do.  I need them to see that despite my insanity, which somewhat probably just resembles everyday me, we still stick to the routine....

Oddly, all of my children prayed for me to remain calm while dad is away....I am grateful for their prayers, but feel awful all in the same breath.  Nothing like the mouths of babes to reveal the ugly truth about ya.

Finally the most difficult moment in all the night (or so I thought) begins.  Putting the toddler to bed.
I should have known a month ago when we put her in her big girl bed so the baby could have the crib that it was too good to be true.  She was amazing and adapted to her bed instantly.  I should have known better!!!!  What makes it worse, is that the toddler, number six in the food chain, is about the most stubborn, independent, you can't make me do ANYTHING unless I want to, unreasonable child we've ever had.  (as I'm typing this, she is bringing me a bag of Pirate's Booty for me to open and let her eat, because, well, she's hungry and found a chair to push, climb up on, and get a snack.....)

She has developed this lovely habit of climbing into the top bunk to sleep with her 6 year old sister.  Which is adorable, but all those baby police out there have already taken the CPS speed dial on their phone and pressed it.  Cause we all know that the top bunk specifically says something to the tune of, "The top bunk is not appropriate for anyone under the age of 5."  Or something like that.  In my book it actually says, "once a child has mastered the art of being able to climb up to the top bunk successfully when there ISN'T EVEN A LADDER, than all bets are off for an 'appropriate' age."

So I finally concede and let her fall asleep with the six year old.  I figured snapping my back in half trying to get her down into her bed was a far easier battle than wrangling her while awake.  Some nights, we must pick and choose our battles....

Once I settled the older ones into their rooms, I shut down the house and went to bed myself.

Here's where the night terrors began.

I hate sleeping alone.  I hate sleeping in a big ole house alone.  And yes, there are seven other bodies in this house sleeping with me, while I don't sleep, but it's not the same as another adult in the house with me.  I.AM.A.BABY.

I hate the dark night, with all it's freaky noises, and all the sounds I am CONVINCED are actual people breaking into my house.

Last night, at one point, I was CERTAIN there was someone standing outside my door.  (now, this isn't always entirely impossible, because there ARE seven children in my home, six of which, can actually get out of bed and stand outside my door....)
But there was a gunman outside my door, with a giant, silent machine gun waiting to blow me to smitherenes...... Ok, I also must admit, I am the FIRST to say I have quite the imagination.  Well, the second really, because the problem is, I admit these stories to people, i.e. my husband and he is convinced my brain is wacky....perhaps....

So I laid there for the better part of an hour, in sheer terror.  I also heard someone walking outside trying to get into my house AND I heard someone messing with our compost bin.

(I am really laying out my rawness here, people.  You have no idea...)

So, apparently I eventually passed out.  Probably out of sheer terror.  Thankfully, tho, this time, I didn't fall asleep with my neck or head bent in a awkward position because of my fear because that really stinks when you wake from that position to discover you have scored the greatest crick in your neck possible.....

At 12:30 am tho, the baby started her nightly ritual of waking for a quick drink.  The only problem is, the ritual lasts about an hour to an hour and a half and involves her occasionally crying, slamming her legs down, and passing gas like she's a machine gun herself....So from 12:30-2 this morning, I had intermittent sleep as I was awoken about every 5-10 minutes or so from her noises.  Finally, at 2, it was clear she was officially ready to eat.

And don't even try to tell me that I should just pick her up at 12:30 and feed her.

It's the principle of the matter.  I am training her to sleep through the night by torturing myself.  It's a tried and trusted method.....ask my older six....

So at 2 I'm feeding her and the masked gunman is back at my door.  I really might need professional help, but I'm thinking that it will all work itself out eventually.....

She eats quickly and I put her to bed, and do the mad dash to the bathroom and get back in bed before my visitor has time to realize what I've done.  Thankfully, I was able to render myself unconscious rather quickly that time.  Sometime between the time of 4:30-5;00 I was awoken to a different sound.

This time, the sound wasn't just in my head.  (thank you very much)

It was the pitter patter of little feet and guys, IT WAS COMING FROM DOWNSTAIRS.....

I knew what it was immediately, but for some reason, kept thinking, 'it can't be.'

I opened my door, and saw the toddler/six year old's door open.   DARN IT..... She can escape now.

Sure enough, halfway up the stairs, comes that little stink pot, carrying her blankie and telling me she wants 'Me-we.'   That's short for Mary.  Her sister.  That she shares a room with.  Guess she forgot she was still in the room with her.

Now.  It's o dark thirty.  Has anyone else tried to convince a toddler at o dark thirty that she still needed to be in bed?

Let your imagination run wild with that fun party I had.

I crawled back in bed at 5:45.  Great.  I had 15 minutes before I needed to wake up Jackson, AND the baby had apparently begun her ritual of needing to eat.    Holy smokes.  What a night.  I wanted to fall asleep so badly and just say, "to heck with it" and let the kids fend for themselves, but I've actually been trying to be a better mom lately, and get up with them.... :)  Hey- cut me some slack- there are a LOT of people in my house....

So there it was.   My first night alone in I don't know how long.

People, I have four more nights to go.  Please pray for me.  Between the night terrors, the wandering toddler, and my insanely overactive imagination,.....it's gonna be a long four nights.....

And don't worry about laughing about this post- honestly, I laughed so hard when I recalled all the other "imaginings" I didn't enlighten you with- perhaps that can be for tomorrow's blog....

Life is too short to worry about the dandelions.....

I don't make a whole lot of sense right now, but hopefully, but the end of this blog- you'll either be enlightened, and feel as though it "finally made sense," or you'll be even more confused and decide you've had all you can handle of crazyCatholicmomma.... It's ok.  Some days, I feel the same way, too.....

This morning my religious ed class and about 50 other kiddos had their First Communion.  It was a beautiful Mass and the children looked amazing.  I was definitely moved by it all as I prayed for each one of the kiddos in my class.  I prayed they would always be able to receive communion, every day if they so desired.  I prayed that their parents would teach them the absolute truth about the Catholic faith, despite their own personal opinion (which sometimes tends to drown out the truth) and let their child/children decide for themselves how to handle the truths of the Church.  I prayed for the ones who never attended Mass, basically until today, that somehow, a head to heart connection would happen and that the Holy Spirit would light a fire in their hearts and the desire to learn about the Church would ignite.  It happened to me a million years ago, so I know it can happen to anyone....

After Mass, I drove home listening to my music and just enjoying the amazing view on the drive home.  You see, winter was extremely long here.  Extremely long......I mean, extreeeeeeeeeemely long....Throw in one more extremely and it will almost describe the winter we had.

But now, the beauty of spring is abounding.  Flowering trees, green grass, birds, blue skies, and above all else, warmth.  Natural warmth.  Nice, shiny, big, yellow sun, warmth.  It is beautiful.
Something else I also noticed today while driving home was something that most people find rather annoying, and spend lots of money to get rid of and complain about the constantly.....

Dandelions.....

It really kind of caught me off guard what popped into my head.  It had actually been on my mind the night before as I worked in my flower garden, but didn't come to fruition until this morning....

Life is too short to worry about the dandelions.....

I have a neighbor who hates weeds.  I think she really doesn't like us either, and perhaps lumps us into weeds, but I remember a conversation I had with her about my yard.  She likes to tell me things I should do to my yard.  I can't blame her.  My yard looks like crap.  I mean, seriously, I have SEVEN children.  I can assure anyone who asks, that my yard is the LAST thing I'm going to spend a great deal of time worrying about.....but weeds were a hot topic this specific conversation we had.   She does not like dandelions and I felt she was telling me this because my yard is full of them, and of course, how are dandelions spread?  The lovely white seeded flower part that most of us as kids, remember picking and blowing - there by aiding in the distribution of there forever being an endless supply of dandelions in our world.....  So, I'm almost certain that she was expressing her dislike of these annoying weeds to me because of the fact that sooner or later, my children were going to blow those seeds right into her yard and she would continue to have to have her yard serviced with a fantastic chemical to kill these beasts!

I think back to that conversation and others like it that I've had about similar "dislikes."  Whether it was weeds, or illness, or cranky New York drivers, or taxes, or yard work, or whatever the dislike, we all have them.  Dislikes.  Things that annoy us.  Things that bother us, whether external or internal.  Whether something that directly affects us, or affects those we love....

Dandelions.

To some, these amazingly yellow flowers are nothing more than an annoying weed that strangely has the root system of a one hundred year old tree.....

To others, these flowers represent our childhood.  Visiting Grandma.  Sitting on the swing set at the park.  Picking a "bouquet" to give to Mom after playing all day outside....

Regardless of how we feel about dandelions, one thing is certain.  Dandelions, just like everything else, are passing.  Sure, we've seen the fields that seem to have boundless amounts of dandelions.  The fields that are so full they basically look like they were painted yellow.  But too soon, summer ends, the dandelions die, and winter takes over again.....and the dandelions are gone again until the next year thaw.....

I'm not sure I'm making sense right now, but looking at the dandelions on my drive home from First Communion Mass hit me very nostalgically.  I was brought back to my own First Communion in 1981.  I still remember pictures of me with my super boy style hair  cut.  Some of the pictures even had dandelions on the ground.  My grandma's house was on the east side of Knoxville, TN.  I am guessing not too many people in her neck of the woods worried too much about the weeds in their yards and probably not many at all wasted any money on having a company come spray and get rid of them....

Now, before anyone gets offended, my disclaimer is that if you enjoy spending money quarterly to have your grass look like it should be on the cover of Southern Living, more power to you.... I used to get my yard sprayed as well, and before I had kids, and realized most were poisonous yuck that could be affecting my environment, kids, and dogs, I loved seeing a super green yard that looked like carpet.  Even those who use all natural, organic sprays, more power to you as well..... end of disclaimer...

My grandma would have little cups just waiting for my sister and I to bring her the latest find in the flowery field of weeds in her yard.  Whether it was buttercups, dandelions, or these tee tiny little purple flowers she had all over, or those white flowers- can't think of the name of them either, but there was always a plethora of flowers to be picked and plopped in her cups.  And she always seemed genuinely thrilled that we brought her flowers....

As I was driving and reminiscing about my grandma's yard and my first communion, another thought struck me.  Maybe a slightly more morbid thought, but a thought nonetheless.

We can't take our perfectly manicured lawns with us to Heaven.   Our goal is not to teach our yard all about Jesus and His gift to us.  Our yard won't care either way if we spray it this year and don't next year and quite honestly, neither will God.

What will matter is what did we do to make our world a better place?  Better than when we found it?  What did we do to bring Christ to all those around us?  How did we live our lives?  Did people notice us in a good way, or did they notice us in a bad way?

But the one thing I most definitely realized is that, life is too short to worry about the dandelions.

By that, I mean, simply, complaining about all those things that we "dislike" and all the things that quite frankly I like to call "first world issues" are really not going to aid us in our lives now or in the future.... Sometimes I think we tend to make some of the most petty things, huge, horrible disasters waiting to happen.

Dandelions for instance.

Your house value won't change because of those flowers....your life won't be any worse, better, or indifferent because of those flowers....

In fact, if we look at those deeply rooted, yellow "weeds" in a different light for even a moment- it might just make us appreciate thing a bit more.

Tomorrow, on Mother's Day, I am going to look at those beautiful yellow flowers that my children insist on bringing me everyday and I'm going to remember a simpler time.  I'm going to be reminded of my Grandma, Grace.  Spending the night with her and sitting on her front porch on lazy summer days.  Picking them and other amazing "flowers" and remembering her smile as she tells me how beautiful they are.   All because I picked them and brought them to her....

That is worth remembering that life is too short to worry about the dandelions....

Just Another Manic Monday.....

Does anyone know this song?   It's definitely a dated song.  If you notice it's June 1986....I believe I was in 8th grade- but after my Monday today, I was definitely having a Manic Monday Moment....and the big hair?  Well, I did sport that as well back in the day....  My music taste has definitely improved since the mid 1980's but who can really listen to this song and NOT let it take you back to the 8th grade dance where you sat there and BEGGED God for the class jock to just NOTICE you even existed??  Ha- before I see anymore squirrels, let's continue, shall we?

So recap-

Seven kids.  Five in school.  One insane toddler who absolutely does not talk intelligibly.  Oh, and a baby who LOVES to stay up late and makes me a tad tired during day.

Got it?
Good.

Today the small peanut was up at 5:50AM.  Now, lately, I've just been getting up after nursing her and just getting ready for the day.  Mostly because the kids during the school week are up at 6, but also because when I fall back asleep, I tend to sleep HARD for an hour, have the wackiest dreams possible and wake up super hard and feel incredibly groggy.

So what did I choose to do today?  Yep. You guessed it.  I fell back asleep.  I was SOOOOO very tired and thought the extra hour would do me good.  The older 4 can pretty much get themselves ready for school and my oldest two have come to expect rarely seeing me at 6am....although I am trying to make more of a physical appearance as of late....

But, as usual, after 7 I woke up groggy and feeling incredibly exhausted.  Why didn't I JUST get up and stay up at 5:50???  I was awake, I wasn't crabby and I could have taken a shower.  Oh, wait.  I just admitted I don't shower.  Oh well.  I am rather unfiltered, so I suppose the fact I don't shower every day should not probably surprise anyone....or perhaps it does....

I woke up feeling even more tired than when I went to bed last night.  I had some crazy bizarre dreams and even remembered some of the dreams.  When you dream about your neighbors and your big ole bus you drive, and snow, you know you're exhausted.

But I woke up tired and angry because I realized I would NOT get to shower and I forgot I needed to go to Target to get some things that had been on my list for a MONTH.  I'm not even exaggerating there.  Ask my husband.  It's been on my bathroom counter growing each week.

So I quickly got dressed and got the last three kiddos off to school and fed the toddler and got the baby all ready for a road trip.  There were a few things on my list that were essential I buy today.  But the other things I was basically going to price.  I had a few gift cards leftover to use for some "fun" things, like onesies for the baby, underwear for the toddler (God help me in that endeavor...) and some towels for my bathroom.  I needed (and yes, I use that word loosely) sheets for my bed, pajamas for my oldest, and these fabulous nursing pads that two of my friends use called 'lily pads.'

Fast forward.  I'm in my mini van.  Driving with the toddler and baby in the back seat.  I'm feeling pretty good about myself.  I've got the double stroller, the diaper bag, a snack for the toddler, her water bottle.  I'm the BOMB!!!

I should stop the blog there because anything OTHER than being the bomb occurred after that.  Well, maybe a bomb did occur.  It slowly became a GONG show and when I pulled in the parking lot and had to drive half a mile out of the way because they were blacktopping big holes everywhere, I should have taken that as my clue to head back home, IMMEDIATELY....

But instead, in true crazymomma fashion, I hohummed my way into the store, and was no where near prepared for what ensued....

My first mistake was the double stroller.  In an effort to remain germ free, I insist on the double stroller.  The problem here is that the car seat actually causes the back seat of the stroller to need to be flat.  Therefore, I can NOT stick things (i.e. items I am buying...) in the bottom where one could normally place items.  So in true crazymomma fashion, I thought I could pull a cart and push the stroller!

Don't say it.  I already know.....First word into my head was something I can not type here, but the PG version would be 'idiot.'  Can we agree to that?  Good.

So once I walked about 50 feet into the store trying to push a double stroller and pull a target cart, I realized it was not going to happen.  (have I mentioned how well I handle humility???)

I abandoned the cart over by the beauty products.  Essentially, I felt, I was leaving another customer an easy way to get a cart who may have realized their purchases were too many and they needed a cart.  Call me a 'good Samaritan' if you will.  The only thing is, I pretended I needed a product at the end of the aisle and basically RAN AWAY FROM THE CART.

I can only hope that no one was videotaping my asinine move.

Once I figured no one saw me escape from my "cart," I proceeded to lay low by rolling through the back of all the aisle ways.  (yes, I know I have issues....no need to alert anyone else about them...)

I hurriedly ran across the main aisle and darted into the kitchen aisle and pretended to be fascinated with a new Keurig.  I don't need one, but I needed to look distracted.  At that moment, my James Bond meets McGyver act came crashing to a halt.

The peanut started to spit up, but got choked on her spit up.  She scared me because she was having trouble catching her breath while she coughed, so I hurriedly pulled her out of her seat and picked her up.  She was fine, but when I tried to place her back in her car seat, she had decided that me holding her was the ONLY way she would continue on this journey, we'll call, the TRAIN WRECK....

I foolishly believed I could get through the store quickly and painlessly while holding her, and pushing the double stroller.

Side note- empty car seat, in the back of a double stroller, with a 30-40 pound toddler in the front seat, makes for a rather difficult time in pushing in any direction but straight.  I had several aisles to maneuver through, so imagine my dilemma.  It was becoming comical, much to my dismay...

The next item of business to get was the lily pad package.  This is apparently the next greatest invention to sliced bread.  They are nursing pads and incredibly, will NOT move from their position.  Maybe they have some sear sucker action?  I wouldn't know, because, I spent about TEN minutes in the breastfeeding aisle and couldn't find them ANYWHERE!!!  At this point, I wanted to cry.  My friends swore by them and were convinced I could find them with no problem.

Suddenly, little peanut spit up all.over.the.floor.

I'm talking something that would probably need a friggin MOP AND BUCKET to clean up.

I ran.

Ok.  Running is stretching it a bit- but I sure as heck pushed that darn stroller as fast as a one legged dog could push a cart.... (is that even possible?  Who cares at this point...)

I moved to my next destination.  Sheets..  I found a nice set, "on sale" because really, the way things are getting, when it's "on sale" anymore, it's basically just regular priced from a year ago.  Tossed into stroller.  At this point, peanut is getting heavy.  She has to be pushing 16 pounds and my one arm is starting to shake.... Quiver....

My last item I went looking for I never found.  Pajamas for my oldest.  I don't know if I've mentioned before, but she's 15 years old and is SIX FEET TALL....

The girl has grown literally out of all her pj's.  She is traveling with me later this week and just needs a nice decent pair of pajamas.

No offense, Target, but the only jammies I found came in two styles.  Old lady and prostitute.

Who in their right mind wears some of these clothing items labeled PAJAMAS!?!?  Honestly.  Have we as a society just decided to toss the idea of modesty or just plain DECENCY out the cotton pickin' window?  I believe so.  I found some interesting moo moos.  Some rather bizarre tank top hoochie momma tops and some incredibly SHORT SHORT bottoms, but I found nothing in the form of ACCEPTABLE for my 15 year old.  I could have bought a moo moo, but I didn't want to insult her cute style and I certainly wasn't going to buy her something she'd be looking like she needed to go downtown and stand on the street corner cat calling in either!

At this point, my frustration level was through the roof, and the little peanut pooped and began to let me know she was ready to get a clean diaper.  The toddler had also decided she too wanted out of her cage and was doing everything in her power to escape the double stroller.

I am pretty sure my head was about to explode....

I'm rounding the corner heading to the checkout when I suddenly get that sick feeling in my stomach. Does anyone know what I'm talking about?  I am probably one of the ONLY people left on the planet that does NOT have a Target credit card.  I say that because every single time I check out from that store, they ask if I want to open an account and save 5%.  Nothing would please my husband more than for me to save him money.  However, his idea of me saving money is basically not shopping....but getting another credit card, is NOT his idea of saving money...EVER...  For whatever reason, I get so insanely stressed when I go through the checkout and have to tell them no.  For whatever reason again, I seem to be plagued with visiting the most DETERMINED employees that insist on knowing exactly WHY I won't cave and just get the card.  I mean, it's 5%!!!  Why on God's green earth would you NOT want to save money?

So once again, I did what any irrational red head holding a fussy baby with a poopy diaper and a sister who is screaming for her "Olaf panties" would do-

I blamed my husband.

I'm certain there are people out there who are convinced I'm in some kind of archaic relationship.  I have this vision of people seeing a cave man like fella with a giant club dragging me by the pony tail back into our cave....

I promise, it's nothing like that.  I just like to blame him when I don't have the courage to just say, "no thank you..."

You'd think I'd get over that one.

But, today, I blamed him for not getting a Target credit card.  He's ok with that.  I think he's just relieved I don't just cave and get the card....although, he is looking into what exactly our savings would be with the card...  :)

So I got home.  The sweet, screaming, poopy diaper filled baby fell asleep in the car.  The crazy toddler got her package of Olaf panties and sang "Let it Go" all the way home....and I?

Made a huge cup of coffee when I got home and sat down to type this adventure...

Cause I promise, the grass IS always greener....right where you water!!!

"Let it Go" takes on a whole new meaning....

Monster Mommy Blogger....and other tales from the crypt...er-I mean homestead...

I have sat down to blog about fifty times.  I promise.  I can't even make up the stuff that happens when I go to sit down.... I had desperately wanted to blog about Easter Sunday and how beautiful it turned out after quite the fiasco of having a free front row pew dropped into our laps and then arriving to Mass on time (which on Easter Sunday is suicide-you may as well wait for the next Mass if you do that...) only to discover the ushers had not put out the reserved signs?

I had wanted to blog about how my Grandma Grace had been CRAZY on my mind that day, starting with the wake up of my little peanut.  So strong was she, that I felt compelled to pull out her very old, very dainty crucifix necklace and wear it to Mass.  She remained on my mind the rest of the day and I desperately wanted to blog about how my amazing husband realized after all these years why it was so important to me to have pictures made after Mass.  My grandma had always, always, ALWAYS done that- even if the weather was yucky- we had our pictures taken either on her front porch or in front of a giant bush/tree in her front yard.  There were some amazing pictures of me that I recall.  And let me tell you, I use that word "amazing" incredibly loosely.....

My Grandma Grace's necklace

I wanted to blog about how we had baked a ham and a turkey to bring over to our friend's house to celebrate the holiday together with other friends.  How when we got there, we met some new friends and incredibly, one of them was the very resident who was the first one to start trying to save my life after I birthed my little peanut and began hemorrhaging three hours later.  The funny thing was that she recognized my husband, but couldn't place where she had seen him, and it wasn't until I was sitting and nursing my little peanut and she came into the room I was in and I immediately recognized her.

Talk about surreal!  God has done that on more than one occasion.  Placing the person back in our lives after not being able to thank them for something they've done for us.

I wanted to blog about how, after 10 weeks, I was starting to emerge from my cocoon and was starting to feel almost human again, but was discovering that although I was able to get out, I was suddenly dealing with something very distressing.  I was overly angry, anxious, irritable, over exhausted, and very depressed.  I was losing my temper with my children. I was getting upset with my husband.  I was getting angry I couldn't sit down to blog, which always brings me such peace to just sit and type away.

I wanted to blog how I hadn't been able to just sit and spend time in quiet prayer or conversation with God in I didn't know how long.  Sure we did our bedtime prayer with the children, but for me to just SIT and chat with my Savior?  It had not happened in so very long.

But an event in my life this past week, opened my eyes and "woke" me up.

I got angry.

I'm not talking, grouchy mama bear angry, I'm talking, anger that scared me to the point that I actually wound up accidentally hurting myself.

Back up a few months.  Ok, maybe back up a few years.

My kids fight every single night after dinner.  Over what?

Cleaning the kitchen.

Ok, before you say, "why bother?  Just clean it yourself."  Well, yes, I suppose I could just say that.  But I am a firm believer that my children's generation is going to have a really tough time in the real world when they grow up.  Kids are not made to do chores, clean up after themselves, or pretty much anything my generation and probably every generation before me, were made to do, ever!  It's important to my husband and I that our children learn responsibility and what it's like to be a part of a community (aka family).  In order to do this, they have expectations they must complete.  One of the very few things we expect them to do is the shared responsibility of cleaning the kitchen after dinner.  Now by "clean the kitchen" I have already tried to have a great deal of dishes done, so basically it involves loading your plate, cup and silverware, wiping the table, counter and stove down, sweeping the kitchen and the dining room, and a few dishes.

You would think we had asked them to clean the kitchen after a dinner on the Titanic.

Every night they bicker over WHO has to do what and WHO is waiting on whom to complete a task.  Whether it's one waiting to sweep until someone wipes the table, or someone waiting to dry dishes while another actually washes them.  Doesn't matter, they fight.  Constantly.

Well, like I said, I am really fighting some serious PPD.  To the point I am now going to actively seek someone to speak to about it because it's starting to wear me down.

They started fighting and I got upset.  I told them to get out of the kitchen.  Ok, well, maybe I YELLED for them to get out of the kitchen.  My husband always gets irritated with me when I do this, because I'm giving them exactly what they want.  FREEDOM!  No kitchen cleaning tonight!!!  I see it as the quiet time I can spend cleaning the kitchen by myself.  But tonight I could tell I was more angry than normal and instead of calming down, counting to 10, cooling off, or whatever I could do to calm down, I blew up.

I know I'm not the only mom in the world who blows up.  I feel like I am.  Facebook and moms groups, and other places where you see 'perfect' moms can make you feel like your the only mom who does practically anything wrong beyond the scope of June Cleaver....  I certainly felt like I was the only mommy monster at the time.  My husband got upset that I had sent everyone out.  So I did what any rational, hormonal, post partum red head would do.  I slammed a plate on the counter.

Well, that didn't go over so well.  As I slammed it, I realized that this fancy dish (phaltzgraff) would break, not only break, but break into three nicely sharpened pieces.  I went to grab the one piece that started to fall in the sink and literally sliced my hand open.  Like a can opener.  Blood started pouring out (yes, pouring...) and I immediately realized what a dumb thing I did.  On many levels.

Fortunately, not all my kids saw the juvenile display I put on.  Most just knew mom broke a plate and cut her hand.  But for me, it was so much more.  It was the final tipping point that said, I am not handling things anymore.  I am overwhelmed and exhausted and my expectations are beyond what I can reach.  I needed help.

I did again, what anyone with any ounce of rationale would do, and just cried.  "I am such a mess..." I whined to my husband.  He didn't agree, but he didn't disagree either.  I am a mess.  I know I'm a mess.  I have seven children!!!  Who isn't a mess while recovering from a birth to begin with, but to be the seventh time?  It's challenging to say the least.  The external pressures outside our home, whether from me trying to constantly look as though I "have it together."  Or whether it's the constant barrage of questions inquiring how we even handle that many when those with one or two are barely afloat.  It begins to take a toll on a person and especially just having a baby- when the hormones don't know if they're coming or going, and the sleep is hit or miss- and by MISS I mean, this baby does NOT sleep so it's definitely missing in my life...and my husband's.  The laundry that seems to morph out of no where.  And I mean NO WHERE.....

I knew in that instant I needed something.  Whether it was a coffee with a friend or a MOMs meeting I needed it.  The very next day, I found myself at my church's MOMs meeting and listening to a mom witness about anger.  It did my soul good.  I cried like a baboon through the entire talk.  Thankfully, I was surrounded by other hormonal post and pre partum moms who cried with me.... :)

I knew after attending that meeting what I needed.  I needed confession like you wouldn't believe.  The healing benefit of confession is profound.  I think for most of us, we let fear dictate whether or not we'll go to this sacrament.  We let fear of what the priest will think, or what he'll say to us, or we allow ourselves to believe that our sins aren't really bad... Just so we're clear, sin never looks "bad" or we wouldn't choose it...

So Saturday afternoon I was able to visit the sacrament of confession.  I left feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted.  I was showered with that grace that only God can give me and the priest I visited wound up being one of the most pleasant and kind priests!  I know we tend to be so hard on ourselves as moms and have this ridiculous expectation that can not always, nor should it be always, met.  He was able to talk me back down off the cliff and into reality.  Reality is, I'm not a nun.  I don't live in a convent, and my prayer life is temporarily on a bit of a chaotic hiatus right now.  Sporadic at best.  He encouraged me to pray when I can.  Whether that be while I'm doing the laundry, feeding the kids, cleaning, whatever moment I was in, offer that moment to God.  He loves me so much for even trying to do that.  That's where He has me right now.  I am in the midst of chaos and laundry, and babies, and no sleep and He wants to me meet me right there.  Not in my little prayer chapel with my veil and rosary in hand.  That's not who or even where I am right now....  Just pulling out the seventh load for the day or changing the tenth diaper.  Loading the breakfast dishes.  Sweeping the floor. Dusting the TV stand. Breaking up another fight over Barbie.  Picking up toys for the umpteenth time that day. All of that is where He has me.  Use those moments to pray.

The reason I pray....

And by no means am I perfect.  Confession was just Saturday and I can assure anyone, I've already snapped at one or two.  I made a not so nice mental comment to someone who made a comment out loud about my large family.  I even fell off my "no more swearing" bandwagon again....

But I know I'll pick myself back up, and keep trying.  God wouldn't want me to do anything less than that....He loves me.  He loves you.  He loves all of us.

A little Momster humor...

Oh where art thou, you spring time?

I'm seriously dealing with some difficult post partum.  That's why today, you are getting a second dose of my blogging.  In two short days.  Because if I don't write- I'll explode.  Ok.  I won't explode.  But it's March 26, 2015 and I'm losing my mind slowly but surely.  Do you want to see the biggest cause today of that?  Ok.

This is unacceptable. 

 See that?  That white stuff is what is aiding in my semi depressive state today.  SNOW.  I am a snow lover.  When we moved here, I was one of the ONLY people excited about snow in this entire area.  But today?  I'm done.  I'm completely done.  I'm wearing capri pants and dying to go flip flop shopping.  I'm dying to just GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.  I have been literally cooped up in my house for EIGHT WEEKS!  Minus a billion doctors appointments and hospital visits.  Which, I'm done with.  You can only have so much fun spending your retirement at pediatric clinics, urgent cares, and children's hospitals.  I'm done!!

Do you want to see what is holding me together today?
ok...

I love the man who sent this....

 This man loves me so darn unconditionally I can NOT catch my breath when I think about it.  Seriously.  That sounds incredibly disgustingly mushy, but mark my words. I am more in love with this man today, than I have ever been.  LOOK AT WHAT HE SAID!!!!   An incredibly hormonal mess texts him that she's having a really bad time and is just super depressed and a hot mess and LOOK WHAT HE RESPONDS WITH!!!  I get teary eyed when I read what he says.  'With God's help and Grace we'll get through this....'  I love this man!  What an incredible man of faith.  How far he has come in the 23 years I've known him!  How much his faith and love of the Catholic church has grown.  Just a blessing that I don't deserve!!!

So he sent me this text after my slightly small mini meltdown when I saw it snowing this morning.  I have not been able to get outside and walk during the day because it's been so cold and I just don't feel comfortable enough to get the littlest peanut out in it.


Now the other peanut?  I'll show you what this being cooped up is doing to her!!!

No fear child here...

She needs to get out as well.  Experience the warmth of sunshine and ride her little Dora bike around the driveway and ride in the double stroller with her baby sister and laugh and just BE OUTSIDE!!  But I can't take her outside.  It's not only snowing, but it's freezing.  Because, as you know, snow falls when it's COLD.  Not warm.  So there you go.

Now that my children are arriving home from school, the opportunity to vent to my blog is depleting.  They tend to talk.  A LOT.  And it's usually about nothing.  But that's ok.  I like listening to their conversations about nothing.  At least they are talking.  I must admit that.  But I'll leave you with another shot of the older peanut dropping a photo bomb.  Her first.  Yes, I'm beyond proud.  She's taking after her momma....

See the little photo bomber behind two of my cuties?

Sacrifice, crucifixes, and ice cream.....

It's been a long time.  I'm talking a very, long, time.

Since I've blogged that is.  Of course, it's been a long time period.  Almost 8 weeks since I gave birth.  And in those 8 weeks, I am certain, if you named it, it happened in my home.  Every illness known to man, a hospital stay with RSV, depression, craziness, theft, lying, chaos.  Oh snap.  What a time.

And isn't that typical that it has occurred during most of my Lenten journey?  I am almost certain I have never had a "quiet" Lent.  My journey through Lent has, since my "reversion" back into the faith, ALWAYS been an adventure of some sort.

This year is no different.  It's Lent.  Springtime.  Although, where I live, it's anything BUT spring, but don't, and I mean, DON'T, get me started on that one.  Another day, another blog.

But it's springtime.  I find it fascinating that Lent begins during winter.  When it's still less daylight than spring.  Before we lose DST and get more sunshine.  During the course of Lent, we begin to see daylight growing longer and longer.  Temperatures getting warmer and warmer  (well, in SOME places) and new life and growth springing up everywhere.  Baby animals, flowers, trees budding, new babies being born, all kinds of fantastic life emerging from the winter.  Including the cold, cold, VERY cold, place I live.

Kids slowly emerge from their homes with their bikes, scooters, skates, ripsticks, in tow.  Hockey in the streets, basketball games, capture the flag games.

It's a thawing of our spirits as well.  I am in awe of the connection to our world with our journey during Lent.  As we "give up" something, or promise to do something more during this time, we grow closer and closer to our Lord.  As our hearts grow more and more in love with Him and His story, our walls we've built up (almost like ice, or snow) begin to melt away and the capacity to love even more grows.  Much like our spring outside.

Our faith can only grow when we feed and water it.  There is no coincidence in my motto for my blog and what our faith does when we nourish it.  My motto is 'the grass is greener right where you water it.'  Same with our faith.  You will only get out of it, what you put into it.  Bored at Mass?  Tired of the same ole, same ole?  What have you put into it lately?

'I gave up chocolate, crazymomma.'   Oh wow. Good for you.  How's that helping you grow in your faith?   Do you stare at the bag of peanut butter Easter eggs and watch them taunt you from the shelf?  (ok, that's a rhetorical question, because let's face it, candy just taunts me no matter what...and I didn't give it up....)

'I gave up chewing gum.'   Really?  What has it done to lead you closer to our Lord?

'I gave up ice cream.'    Ahhhh- now we're getting somewhere.  Ok, not really, but it IS what I gave up and if you people knew how much I loved ice cream, you would understand this incredible sacrifice.

When we give things up for Lent, it's supposed to draw us closer to Christ. Connect us, if you will, to that time when He, Himself, knew what would happen to His life.  He would give up his life.  For us.

When we decide what we're 'giving up' are we completely honest about why we're doing it?  Are we willing to substitute our minute sacrifice for the sacrifice on the cross?  Could we essentially take the place of Christ on that Cross?

You know, side note here, because I see squirrels, and this is a big one.  Follow me.  (if you dare...)
 I read an article on why Catholics have crucifixes everywhere and I found it to be the reason I've always shared with anyone who will ask.  We as Catholics have a firm understanding that Jesus Christ died for our sins.  He died.  Once.  For all.  We don't "re-sacrifice" him at Mass during the Eucharist.  We don't dwell on His death by having these crucifixes.  But what these crosses do, with the body of Christ on them, reminds us.

Reminds us that once, over 2000 years ago, the Son of God came down as a tiny infant.  He was raised by some pretty amazing parents (Mother Mary and foster father Joseph). He learned a simple, but beautiful trade in carpentry.  Then spent a mere three years in public ministry trying to teach and spread the message of His Father to as many who would hear it.  All this, while knowing He would die.

That crucifix, which is affixed to almost every single room in my home, reminds me DAILY of His life.  Not only from the cross, but from His birth to the cross.  I see that crucifix and I thank God every.single.time.  I am not kidding.  Every. single. time.  I see a crucifix, I promise, I say 'thank you.'  He did that for me.  For you.  For my children.  For people 2000 years from now.  Hard to fathom that, isn't it?

Lent is that time to grow.  To die to yourself.  A little every time.  With each passing year, with each passing Lent, I die a little more to myself.  I fall.  I fall a LOT.  Ask the other 8 people who live in my home with me.  They'll tell you how much I fall.  How hard it is to do the right thing.  But that's what makes our faith so amazing.  God still loves me.  And between the sacraments of Healing and Reconciliation, and His never ending love, He scoops me up, and shows me how to keep going.  Through my own sacrifices during Lent, I can see just how hard it is to really give up something I love.  Give up something I enjoy.  A pleasure. Something I think I couldn't live without.

Just like Jesus.

I just can't live without Him.  I can not fathom my life with His body and blood shed upon that cross.  And I will stare at that crucifix every chance I get.  Just to remind me of what exactly it was He did for us.

That, my friends, is a sacrifice.  Gum?  Candy?  Ice cream?   Let's try to finish out the last week or so of our Lenten journey by finding that one thing that will truly cause us pause and see if we can 'let it go' for just a bit.

Then we can look at that crucifix and tell our Savior just how hard it was to give up that one thing for such a short time, and tell Him just how much we love Him for what He did that was so very huge.

God bless y'all.  And enjoy this springtime.  You won't get this one back ever again!

The reasons for my sacrifices....