(my first!) 7 Quick Takes Friday

 


one.

I've been wanting to give 7 Quick Takes a try for a while now.  Here goes!




 two.

I told my husband recently that I'm going to call his grandma and ask her to teach me how to cook.  It's not what you're thinking.  His grandma always worked while they were raising their 9 children, and I think because of the  lack of time this created, she's famous for serving convenience foods.  Mr. Smith spent a lot of time over there growing up, and he remembers $1 frozen pizzas and salisbury steak t.v. dinners quite well.  I've set a different standard for my family and, for better or worse, now they expect it.  My exhaustedly-pregnant self told him that one of these nights I'm going to throw some tater tots on a pan, boil a package of hot dogs, and call it dinner.  He looked pretty appalled.

three.

I bought some new clothes.  This is a pretty rare occurrence around here, but I was starting to feel uncomfortable in my regular clothes.  I wasn't quite ready to break out the maternity yet, so I was trying to bridge the gap with a couple of shirts from the "regular" department that are cut a bit more generously.  I found a blouse I liked that was not like anything I have already, but I thought I could pull it off.  It's more of a trendy style, with multi-colored stripes.  I took the plunge and brought it home.  I got dressed for Mass on Sunday and put it on for the first time.  Blake (you know, 12 year old boy, wears the same jeans with a rotation of 3 t-shirts continuously, has never once noticed clothing of any kind, much less given an opinion on it) walks into the kitchen, takes one look at me, and says, "WHAT are you WEARING?!".  

Are you kidding me?  Really helpful for the self-confidence.

four.

I was able to hear this little peanut's heartbeat at a regular OB appointment this week.  It took the doc a minute to find it, but there it was!  So exciting.  I'm not repulsed by most foods anymore, and my energy is coming back slowly but surely.  Second trimester, here I come!

five.

Do you realize that January is almost over already?!  WHERE does the time go?  I can practically smell Spring.  Practically.

six.

 

 Have y'all seen this?  Hilarious.  That's exactly what I look like when I remember.
I'd love to give credit for it, but I just copied it off of facebook, no idea whose it is originally.



seven.

Speaking of ...(sigh)... facebook, I absolutely hate it.  I really do.  The minute I start to think I like it and I might start using it more, I get offended/annoyed by ten things in a row on there and I want to delete my account immediately.  I actually just kind of ruined my good mood just going on there for that picture.  The first "story" by a family member seriously hurt my feelings!  I never would have known anything about it if it weren't for facebook, and I would have been better off.  I have lots more thoughts on this, for another day.  I think me and facebook are going to part ways soon.

HAPPY FRIDAY!!


Go visit the fabulous Jennifer Fulwiler for more Quick Takes!

It's Just Nuts

One pistachio.

That's all it took to wreak complete and total havoc on Oliver's body last Thursday.

I was eating pistachios for an afternoon snack, and he asked if he could have them.  I thought about it for a second, and told him we could try it.

It's at this point in telling the story that I've seen, several times, the slight raise of an eyebrow.  So far everyone has thought better than to question my judgement out loud, but the sentiment is there.  If anyone chose to actually say something to me I'd just say, "Go ahead, judge away.  Until you've lived a day with my child, the credibility of your opinion on this subject is nil.  You try telling the boy with five healthy, typical brothers, that this thing he's interested in trying is just one more thing on the mile-long list of stuff he can't touch with a ten foot pole.  You look at those brown eyes and tell him that it's not worth trying, just in case.  You aren't there at birthday parties when he's eating a sandwich and lollipop instead of pizza, cake, and ice cream, and you weren't the one who had to finally explain to him that he's not going to be able to eat like his brothers just because he reaches a certain age, which is what he had thought all along, that he just wasn't old enough yet.  You have no idea."

So yes, he's severely allergic to peanuts, and that may seem to rule out pistachios as well.  Except that pistachios are actually a tree nut, more closely related to pecans and almonds, which we've found (by trial and error) that Oliver can tolerate.  So in my mind, it was worth a try.

He took one pistachio, ate it, looked at me and said, "I don't think I should have eaten that."  He knew that quickly.  His lips began to swell right before my eyes and he told me his throat felt hot and it was hard to swallow.  I raced for the benedryl and watched him drink two teaspoons of the liquid down as though he were trying to swallow a horse pill.  By the time we got to the emergency room he was wheezing, and his body was unrecognizable from his neck down to his knees, where the hives raged so out of control that they were blending together into one enormous, hideous patch of disfigured skin.  His cheeks were bright red, his eyes full of fear, and the first nurse to see him yelled frantically for a pulse ox machine.  An epi-shot to his stomach and an IV pump of more meds than I care to recall later, and the symptoms began to subside.  He lay on the gurney, in a tiny hospital gown that I hope to never again see one of my children wearing, and drifted off to sleep.  I was left to my thoughts as he recovered.

I recalled the exchange I had had with one of the doctors.  She was trying to establish a timeline of events and said, "Okay, so he was eating the pistachios --"  I cut her off, telling her, "He ate one pistachio."  "One pistachio?" as she looked down at my ailing son.  The absurdity of it seemed to ring with both of us, and at the same time, as his mother, the fragility of life hit me.  One silly pistachio. Without prompt and skillful medical care, it had the potential to take the life of my son.

Most mornings I can't predict where the course of the day will take me.  Some days I'm more surprised than others.

Sewing Project: Cloaks

There was a sewing machine that I had had my eye on for quite a while, and it went on a good sale sometime before Christmas.  Mr. Smith ordered it for me, and because he's terrible at keeping secrets, I got my big present well ahead of the holiday.  This worked out really well though, because I was able to use it to make several Christmas gifts for friends and family.

I learned to sew in a Home Economics class in high school.  I loved that class, and it really did give me the gift of a useful life skill in sewing.  I remember vividly (which I really can't say for much of anything else in high school) learning how to thread the machine and learning the basic rules of sewing.  The project we made that year was the ugliest sweatshirt imaginable, but it did the job, I knew how to sew. 

(It's my understanding that these classes are largely unavailable in schools now.  Perhaps it's too demeaning to expect a student to learn basic homemaking skills.  It's really a shame.)

I didn't do anything with a sewing machine again until after we were married and Mr. Smith bought me my very first one.  It was the most basic model on the market, and I loved it.  I still only had a very rudimentary knowledge of sewing, but I got by on my ability to improvise.  I never really followed patterns, just made things up as I went along.  I made Halloween costumes, curtains and pillows, and it served me well for about 10 years.  The last few times I had gotten it out however, it was in poor condition.  It sounded like a jackhammer when I ran it, and my thread kept snapping.  I knew it was time for a new machine.

I know this new one is still a very basic sewing machine, compared to what's on the market today, but to me it's the fanciest thing I could hope to own!  It's digital, with lots of automatic functions, 66 embroidery stitch options, and a quilting accessory package.  Quilting is one of my goals.  I made a quilt once, for our godson, and I absolutely loved the process.  Now I have a craft closet to keep my supplies organized, and a sewing table in our bedroom, so my machine is always accessible.  I just need the inspiration and time to try quilting again!

My last thought for now is about my projects themselves.  I have made so many things throughout the years as gifts...and sent them off to their recipients without ever taking a picture!  It's terrible, I know.  It really is my New Year's resolution to take more pictures and be more responsible about actively documenting our lives.

So, I'm starting here.  Back in the fall, Owen wanted me to make him a cloak so he could be a Ranger for Halloween:

 It's camouflage fabric and hangs to his ankles.

I used a plain black hair tie secured with a fabric loop to one side, and a button on the other side to close it at the neck.  All the cloaks have hoods, and a pocket on the inside for books and treasures.

Immediately, Blake wanted one too, and first used his for All Saints Day when he dressed up as St. Nicholas (a young Nicholas, riding through the night in his dark cloak, secretly tossing bags of gold into the homes of the needy):

I used some of my fancy embroidery stitches to embellish them.  Blake's is made from an old set of curtains.

Of course, after that Peyton and Oliver were begging for them, as the older boys took to wearing theirs around the house all the time.  By then I was planning sewing projects for Christmas gifts though, and any more cloaks got put on the back burner.  I eventually decided to make Peyton and Oliver theirs as Christmas gifts, and they were surprised to receive them Christmas morning:

I made theirs out of fleece, partly because I thought it would be warm and cozy, and partly because that way I could avoid a lot of hemming!

Finally, the older boys had been mentioning that Isaac and Sebastian needed cloaks, and I couldn't really argue with that.  I used scraps from the fleece to piece together the last two.  Neither one of the little ones really likes theirs, but it's the cutest darn thing ever when they let us put them on them!

 Isaac, especially, doesn't care for the way his feels on him, but he tries so hard to be like his older brothers.  I'm pretty sure he has only a diaper on under there.  Now you know how Isaac prefers to spend his days.

Really, I'm fairly certain I could have just posted this picture and called it a day.  I can't get enough of this little man.

So that's that!  It's been a lot of fun making something that the boys appreciate so much.  They tell me I need to make one for myself now :o).  That's not sounding like such a bad idea, what with how chilly the house has been lately.  Maybe if I find a pretty fabric...

A Step in the Right Direction

Look - A picture!

The inherited camera works!  Should do just fine to get us through until we can get one of our own.  A decent one?  Before the new baby comes?  Here's hoping...
Turns out Mr. Smith must have picked this one up and snapped a few pictures on Christmas morning.  Yay!  Of course, I have no recollection of him doing this because this was me on Christmas morning:

Yikes.  I'm slightly better off than that in the mornings now, with a couple more weeks of this pregnancy behind me.  Slightly.
Hooray for pictures!

He Just Might Be On To Something

Isaac (3 1/2 yrs.) has come a long way with his speech.   He's putting together 3-4 word sentences like a pro, and is finally using his brothers' names regularly,.  Of course, we weren't aware of it at the time, but it turns out it was kind of a cruel thing to do to give him a little brother named Sebastian.  He's never even attempted to say that one.  He's called him "Baby" all along, and I don't see him trying anything different any time soon.  Since much of my speech during the day is directed toward Isaac, I too have taken to calling Sebastian "Baby", as have most of the other people in the house.  We've commented lately on the dilemma we'll have when we have a real baby in the house again.
Oliver came up with a solution today.  Out of the blue, he said, "Why don't we just call the new baby "Sebastian", and keep calling him "Baby"?"
Makes sense to me.  It's a great name.  And if you aren't using something, it's the responsible thing to do to recycle it, right?

Checking In

Well, I can hardly call myself a blogger these days, really.  I'd like to spend more time in this space, but it always seems there are obstacles. 
A broken camera, for instance.  Blogging is just not as effective, nor as fulfilling, without being able to add pictures to my posts.  I inherited an old camera recently though, so maybe I'll try it out.
Of course the busy days that are Advent and Christmas don't leave much extra time for anything.  Throw in some long work hours for Mr. Smith, out of town visitors, and cold running through the house... it all kind of becomes a blur.
There was something else too... I can't remember... oh yes!  The fact that I've been indescribably tired and nauseous because of the baby I'm growing in my belly.  That's right, I knew there was something else.
Yup, we found out the evening of the first Sunday of Advent.  A beautiful early Christmas present, an incredible intention for our St. Andrew Novena this year, and a startling source of personal growth for this mama, all wrapped up by God Himself.
There's more, so much more.  But for tonight, my pillow is calling.  I hope to be back soon, as I have so much to share.
Blessings to all, in this glorious Christmas season, on the cusp of a bright and hopeful new year!

Quote of the Day

Peyton:  "Mama, 8 and 9 are going to be my big years."

Me:  "Oh yeah, how come?"

Peyton:  "When I'm 8:  Reconciliation and First Communion.  When I'm 9:  The next time we go to Great Wolf Lodge, I can go in the hot pools."  (hot tubs)

I'm just thankful that the sacraments are held in such high esteem to be listed right with the "hot pools" ;o).

Picture This:

An enormous breakfast table, with chairs aplenty.  Six boys, from quite big, down to pretty little.  Cereal bowls and breakfast supplies here and there and everywhere.  An advent wreath, pushed over to the side for a game of hockey with a bottle cap.  Everyone playing and laughing.  Pure joy.

Enough

I've made a decision.

I've decided that I will not spend this Advent season clicking around the internet looking for ways to enhance and enrich our experience of the season (read:  making myself crazy).

I will remember that our Advent last year was wonderful, and by simply maintaining the traditions we already have I'll be respecting the season and my family.

I will seek joy in small things, and do my best to point those around me toward the light of that Babe in the manger.

I will accept the grace that inevitably comes when He blesses my efforts. 

And it will be enough. 

Dusting Off the Keyboard

I've been thinking about getting back to this little blog of mine for awhile now, so I thought I'd ease my way back in with just a quick hello...
And a little bit of honesty -- that title isn't exactly accurate.  This keyboard never has time to gather dust, and certainly hasn't lately.  I've been a busy girl, bustling through school with the kids, gathering myself for this upcoming liturgical year, and I've got a little project I've been working on that I'm calling "Mother's Handbook".
Will be back to share soon - promise!

Quote of the Day

From the guy giving me an estimate on taking down a dead tree.
While surveying the backyard and sandbox full of kids:

"Oh cool, so you guys have... like a daycare thing going on here."

No sir, they're all mine :o).

Owenisms

While lamenting our sleepover policy:

"Dude!  Caillou is FOUR and he's going on a sleepover!"

While reading his English assignment from the Seton lesson plans:

"They seriously expect a KID to do this stuff?!"


While following me through the fabric store:

(calmly) "Is there a brick, or a wall or something around here?"  (with more gusto) "So I can BANG MY HEAD AGAINST IT?"


This kid is seriously fun to be around.

A Mystery

I just found Isaac crouched under the high chair, eating a candy cane.  In August.

One can only imagine where he may have found that.

Hunger

"Me eat."

Those two words formed Isaac's first sentence, in this epic journey we're on in pursuit of language.  He began using this phrase a few months ago, and as rudimentary as it is, I was tickled to death, for several reasons.  For starters, two words put together was HUGE for my struggling three-year-old.  It seemed so monumental when only months before he'd had zero words to stand alone, much less put together.  Secondly, it was so fitting that this milestone would come in reference to food.  If there's one thing Isaac appreciates in life, it's eating.

And yet, he's the scrawniest little thing you can imagine.  Mr. Smith often teases that Isaac must have a tapeworm, because that's the only thing that could explain where all the food goes.  I know it's just a supply and demand situation, something has to fuel the boy who never. stops. moving.

He's the first one up every morning, even before the baby and I usually, and I almost always wake up to those words, "Mama, mee eeat".  That boy wakes up hungry, and let me tell you, he better get fed quick or it's not going to be pretty.  After breakfast, it's not more than an hour or so that goes by before he's coming to me again, "Mee eeat!", with an urgency that contradicts the bowl of oatmeal I know is still in his tummy.  The same words that so warmed my heart in the beginning can also get on my last nerve when it's the hundredth time in the day.  Such is the nature of mothering though, it seems.

Last week at Sunday Mass, Sebastian was wanting nothing to do with sitting in a pew, and everything to do with exploring the baptismal font, so I had spent most of the time walking laps with him in the social hall, trying desperately to hear Monsignor's homily through the tiny speakers out there.  I went back into the church to receive Communion, baby still firmly attached to hip.  Mr. Smith graciously motioned to me that he would take him so that I might have a moment to kneel and pray, and I handed him over with gratitude.  I knelt down next to Isaac, who had just returned to his seat after receiving a blessing and watching his daddy receive the Eucharist. 

He looked up at me, and I could tell right away there was something on his mind.  He struggles so much to find words, I've learned to read his face when he's searching for one.  He reached up and brushed my hair aside, tucking it behind my ear.  Pulling me toward him, he touched his little lips right to my ear, and ever so softly whispered,

"Me eat."

I looked at his enormous blue eyes as I leaned back, the sweetest of all questions looming inside of them, and I knew exactly what he meant.

My sweet son hungers for more than physical sustenance.  Just like the rest of us, he hungers for Christ.

My Men

We went to the library today.  I would normally have Isaac in the stroller, and carry Sebastian on me in my Ergo, for outings like the library, but lately Isaac has been showing me he can handle walking with the big guys.  So that's how we were:  Baby in stroller, entourage of men-in-the-making, and me in the middle.

The boys were really good.  Everyone behaved while we made our rounds, and we were just about to leave when I remembered I had to make a stop at the front desk for some audio holds.  The librarian looked up from her computer as we approached, and smiled.  She asked, "Do you have three boys and a girl, or do you have four boys?"  She had decided Sebastian could be either one in his little blue romper, and had missed altogether two of the older boys who who were standing off to the side.  I smiled back and said, "I have six boys", and waited for the reaction.

Mostly it's the same.  They usually smile, even as their mouths drop open.  There's some question of disbelief as they discern whether I am serious or not.  Then the turning of interior gears is almost audible as they try to decide which is more astonishing:  The fact that I have six children, or the fact that they are all boys.  Once they digest all of that for a second, there's almost always an exclamation of sympathy of some sort.  "Oh you poor woman!" is probably the most common.  Today the librarian used the word "bombarded", as though I'm the victim of some random act of violence.  Really, it's okay, I do understand why people are so intrigued by us, we are an unusual family by today's standards.  I just wish they'd take a second to think, before they blurt things out in front of my children.

As we walked out of the library, we passed a mother and daughter reading a book together.  The little girl was sitting on her mom's lap, completely engrossed in something with a very pink and sparkly cover.  I looked up and saw three of my boys scaling the cement wall that lines the walkway, and two more calling back to me from the fountain ahead, "They should put fish in this thing!"  I glanced back at that woman with her little girl, obliviously enjoying that book, and thought how different our lives must be. 

Not better or worse.  Just different. 

And that's where I struggle the most with relating to the general public.  It doesn't matter to me how many people feel sorry for me that I'm "stuck with" all these boys, I know they're wrong.  They'll never convince me that I should be upset about what God has given me.  I just couldn't be.

But when I'm asked if I want a daughter, the answer doesn't come easily.  I feel like if I say yes, people will take that as a confirmation of their suspicions that that's the only reason I have so many children - we keep trying for a girl and just keep getting boys.  However, I can't honestly say no, because of course I'd love to have a daughter!  In addition to my sons, of course, not instead of.

If I thought they'd understand, I'd put it like this:  I want to have a daughter, the way a young girl wants to have a husband.  When I think of my future, I can picture a daughter in it.  I sometimes smile at the thought, and feel the sweetness of anticipation, at what that might be like someday.  I think of the things we'll do together, and I love her already. 

I don't feel a void though.  I don't have the sense that I've been deprived of something, any more than a young girl would feel something was missing because she doesn't have a husband yet.  It's a possibility to look forward to, not something to demand or expect.

And you know what else makes me happy?  The thought of having nothing but an army of boys.  I'll take ten more, if God will send them to me, and I'll love them with a heart bursting with gratitude.  I would gladly accept the joy of knowing that He thought me worthy of such a unique life.
 
I know that if God wants me to be the mother of a girl, then it will happen that way.  And that's good enough for me.

Daybook: A Summer Monday

Outside my window...it's sunny and warm, a perfect summer day.  Nothing like the record highs and lengthy heat wave we had last week, thank GOODNESS!

I am listening to...the boys above me:  Someone's playing the piano, someone's playing with the puppy, and the rest are either yelling or laughing.  Pretty typical sounds for this house.  Love, love, love my basement.

I am wearing...nothing special - Black cotton pants and a light blue v-neck tee.  My hair is back in a getting-heavier-by-the-day bun.  It's time for a hair cut.  A serious one.  Maybe this week.

I am thinking...about schedules.  How our days will look during the upcoming school year.  What time we get up, do chores, eat lunch.  The activities we commit to.  Schedules.  Lots of thinking to do.

I am looking forward to...this week.  We had a nice 3 day visit with my in-laws last week, but Grandma and Grandpa in town = party time in the boys' minds.  And cramming months worth of visiting into 3 days is exhausting for everyone involved.  My calendar is nearly blank for the next 7 days, and I plan to enjoy it.

I am thankful...for my home.  We've lived here for over a year now, and some days it still doesn't seem real.  I just love it. 

I am praying...for my husband.  He has a lot of pressure on him right now, in many areas of life.  He handles it well, but I know everyone has a breaking point somewhere.  Praying he can get through these next few weeks, finish the class he's taking, and have a chance to relax for a minute at some point!

I am creating...a school room!  Last school year was the first time we lived in a house with enough room to even consider having an area dedicated to school alone.  Except, with moving here in July and having a newborn, I didn't exactly have a chance to set something up.  We finally have our basement pretty well organized (considering it's just a wide open, unfinished basement), and I have an area that's about 15 ft. x 15 ft. to work with.  I'm surrounding it with bookshelves, cubbies, drawers, file cabinets and desks, to separate it from the rest of the basement, and we have our old dining table in the center.  Mr. Smith is going to put up some good lighting for us.  I have a lot more work to do in the next three weeks before we start our school year, but it's really starting to come together.

I am going...to the library.  Hopefully today.  The boys are all registered for the summer reading program, so they each get to choose a free book.  Love free books.

One of my favorite things...summer.  I soooooo need this time to rejuvenate. 

Around the house...too many tan walls!  I loved the neutral paint they used to sell us the house, but it's time for it to go!  I have an idea of what colors I want in some of the rooms, but finding the funds for paint, and the time to take on such a huge project is another story.  At this rate though, we may have tan walls for many, many years.

From the kitchen...sugar-free fare.  The Mr. and I are giving a week to South Beach style eating.  No crazy diet fad, just a detox of sorts.  We've done it before, and even with just a week of cutting out the sugar, we feel so much better.  After a week, we just don't want the sugar as much, and the new habits we've created tend to stick around for a while.  This is day one though, and by tonight I'll be dreaming about ice cream...

From the school room...lots and lots of planning!

A few plans for the rest of the week...
library
last baseball game
piano lessons
park with homeschool friends
fishing this weekend

A picture thought to share...
sadly, no pictures.  My camera died the same week as the computer.  I know, when it rains, it pours.  The computer was obviously higher priority.  It may be a while before I have a decent picture to share.  There's a time for everything!

Visit Peggy at The Simple Woman for more Daybook entries.