The other day, Mary came up to me and announced:
“Mom, I have a drinking problem.”
Her throat was feeling a bit sore.
Last night, Mary said:
“I like Christmas better than Hanukkah. Hanukkah is for normal people. Christmas is for Catholics, and we’re Catholic, so I like Christmas.”
Moses said choose life or death. Apparently, Christ said choose me or normalcy.
BTW, I do not correct my children when they say things like this. It’s much more amusing to just smile and nod and let them talk.
Saw an article via FB that said poll results indicate that moms think 3 kids are the hardest number to manage. As my husband says, switching to zone defense from one-on-one coverage is difficult. But the article covered families of 1-4 children. In my personal experience, SIX was a killer.
Yes, Mary is my #6.
The root cause of my drinking problem.
I’m rocking with the blog posts today. And then it’ll be three more weeks of silence…
The day after we went to the beach was Mary’s 5th birthday. She had been talking and talking and talking about this day for nearly a year – ever since Billy’s birthday back in February. Billy has the first birthday of the year; Mary has the last birthday of the year. Logically, we all know our birthdays come one year apart. Mary, a typical 4-5 year old, does not see it that way. She only understands that she is the last one every year to have a birthday and feels we have done this intentionally to make her suffer.
To make matters slightly worse, we hadn’t yet met any little girls her age, so even a modest gathering in her honor was not going to happen.
Fortunately, Bill was off that Monday, so he took her out to lunch somewhere with a play area. They might have even gone to the mall to ride the carousel. While they were gone, we decorated the dining room with a birthday banner (this is way more decorating than any of my children ever get). I made sure she had a pile a presents – nothing very expensive. And we had soda, which my kids will tell you is a very special treat here. Bill called when he was almost home, and we turned off all the lights and hid. She was so startled when we yelled “surprise” that she collapsed on the floor and cried.
She quickly recovered. And we had a lovely party.
I don’t know how it is possible to take such blurry pictures with my Nikon D90, a lovely and clever camera, but my stand-in photographer managed to do so. These are the best of the bunch.
|Sorry! We didn’t mean to scare you!
|The birthday girl
We were at a function yesterday and Mary told me she had to go to the restroom. I took her. When she was finished, I told her to wait a second because I had to go, too.
“Did you know you had to go?” she asked.
“I have had to go for a bit,” I explained, “but I was waiting for you. I knew you’d need to go soon.”
“Did you want company?” she asked.
“Were you scared to go by yourself?”
“No, honey, I just didn’t want to go twice.” I’m not sure this explanation satisfied her. It’s much easier to assume that her mom, like her and her sisters, must instinctively use the buddy system when going to the restroom.
In discussing Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis with Fritz, we talked about how a “being” could not possibly observe any sort of law of human behavior merely by watching humans. So, whereas, one might observe squirrels and say, “All squirrels gather nuts,” one could not say “All men are kind” or “All men kill” or “All men would try to save someone who was drowning” or “All men eat meat.”
The other kids tried to come up with some. Katie suggested “All men drink water” but many people drink lemonade or soda instead, so that wouldn’t strictly be true. I also discounted things like “All men breathe” since we’re not discussing life functions but rather life choices. Squirrels, I suppose, might choose to not gather nuts…but they don’t. Humans, though, routinely choose things that are not in their best interest, for good or ill. Humans might not gather nuts or do any other activity which would prepare them for the needs of tomorrow or next month or next year. But then other humans do, some to excess.
Mary’s contribution, though:
“All dads drink beer.”
Such is the view from her eyes.
Mary woke up, came downstairs, staggered over to her stocking, felt the empty toe…
…and sighed a deep, long, sad sigh.
“Mommy, why do all the boys…when they love the girls…call them baby?”
Saturday was Mary’s 4th birthday. I took it hard on Friday night for about 2 and a half minutes, which was all the time I would permit. I can’t believe how old she is.
I blogged about her birth here. I blogged about problems with nursing her, and how she tried hard to starve to death (I am not kidding). I blogged about overcoming that to go on and having to cut her off eventually around her 2nd birthday because I was tired of it. She still strokes under my chin to compensate for her “loss.”
So many of you readers have been with me through all of that. Thanks for sticking around. May we have many more good years of sharing.
On Thursday night, I strong-armed a woman into making Mary a birthday cake the next day. With no notice, she did a fabulous job. Mary really wanted a cake with unicorns. She got one. So cute! Notice the broken M. That was not how the cake looked when I brought it home. This girl still can not keep her hands off anything.
I love the middle picture here. What to wish for? Oooooh, I don’t know…so many choices…Oh! the pressure!
We squeezed Mary’s cake and party between Peter’s football game and his team’s end of season party/coach’s son’s birthday party. The older boys had football later, followed by a party, Mass and camping. A busy day.
I will blog about those photo spreads later today.