Quick!  Before the baby wakes up!  Put the Halloween pictures on the blog!

I miss blogging so much.  But life right now is very full.  I am counting the days until soccer is over.  That sport has put me on the precarious edge of insanity.

That and high school. 

{sigh}

I have so many other photos and stories to post…but they will have to wait, and may never happen.  The lost months…

OK.  Halloween.

Fritz was the Witch King of Angmar.  I thought he was too old to go out for candy, but not in this neighborhood.  One man knew who the Witch King was without googling it.

 Fritz did not like the tight feeling of nylon stretching across his face and smushing it, so I cut a sheer stocking and stapled it to the hood/ faux-chain mail.  It worked.

Billy was Ajunta Pall, the first dark Lord of the Sith.  Every year, somebody has to insist on a beard, made by burnt cork.

 Katie was the White Witch from Narnia.  We made her cape from a shower curtain (a $4 Goodwill find).  I hope to blog about how we made it…someday.

Jenny was an Indian princess.  She will be Saint Kateri Tekakwitha today.

Peter was an Italian Renaissance knight.  Knights do not smile.

Bill made his helmet using paper mache.  When Mary watched him do it, she said, “He’s gonna look silly with newspaper on his head!”  I think it came out ok.  He just can’t lift his head (design flaw – note for the future).  Beards and paper mache – every year, somebody, some thing.  Even when just trying on your helmet, you can not smile if you are a knight.

Mary was a fairy.  Mary the fairy.  It’s so easy to make a 5 year old girl happy.  Is it pink?  Is it pretty?  OK!

George was just George.  This is how he looked.  I actually had a little kid ask why he looked like an alien.  Without missing a beat, I said he was dressed up for Halloween.  Why do you look like Superman? I wondered, but did not say.

By the way, that quilt he’s lying on was Jenny’s (and mine) very first quilt.  She did most of the piecing.  I did the rest.  It’s not perfect, but it came out well.  Katie’s quilt (twin size) that we were working on (no link, because I have to get ready for Mass), just needs to have the binding finished.  Jenny’s and Mary’s quilts need to be pinned and quilted.  Alas, I had the baby before I got to that stage, and so they sit.

And now, to get ready for 8 am Mass.  Homeschool All Saints’ Day party after.  Maybe I’ll take more pictures.  I hope!

Husband: As I snoop in on your google calendar to gain and maintain situational awareness…

(Yes, this is an exact quote.  He really does talk/write like that. Army thing.)

Me:  Please “snoop”.  I do the calendar for my sanity and for your info as well.  I am just happy that you can access it at work.  Now you have no excuse!

PS: I put all my clandestine appointments in another calendar which you do not have access to.  You see those huge swaths of time with nothing in them?  You should be suspicious.  Notice how I always seem to keep 9 pm to 6 am totally free?  Hmm….

Husband:   I know you are sleeping with another man every night.  Of course, he’s 3 months old.

Yesterday, I introduced Sarah Reinhard to those of you who may not know her.  Sarah’s newest book is A Catholic Mother’s Companion to Pregnancy: Walking with Mary from Conception to Baptism.  What a lovely book!

If you are pregnant for the first or second time, this book won’t be the only book you will want.  It’s not going to tell you all the details about your baby’s development or answer all the questions you may have about prenatal testing or exercising during pregnancy.  Some of these details are in there – enough in fact that if you are pregnant for the fourth or fifth time, this might be the only book you need.

What Sarah has done is given a weekly reflection for the expectant woman.  First, she gives just a bit of information about you and your baby: what you may be experiencing and the baby’s stage of development.  Then she presents one of the mysteries of the rosary and relates that to the pregnancy journey.  She suggests a concrete act that the reader can do to prepare spiritually for her baby.  She includes a relevant Scriptural passage and concludes with a prayer.  I can not think of a better way to count the weeks to your due date.

But that’s not all!  Those reflections are the bulk of the book, but she then has a section on Labor and Birth and a final section on Baptism.

Why was this book not around 15 years ago?  Or even one year ago?  Without reservation, I believe that any pregnant Catholic woman would love this book, whether it be the first or the tenth baby.

And just as Sarah’s book uses the mysteries of the rosary as a framework, Sarah is doing a blog book tour asking everybody to pray one of the mysteries of the rosary as they go along.  I’m the tenth stop, and the tenth mystery: The Institution of the Eucharist.  Before we get to that, there are some prizes to be had.

I received an extra copy of A Catholic Mother’s Companion to Pregnancy, so leave a comment below for a chance to win it for you or for someone you know.  If you answer any of the questions that I asked Sarah in my interview (for example: where would you go on a dream vacation), I will enter your name twice (no, I will not enter your name for any additional questions you answer, so pick your favorite one).  I’ll pick a name on or around noon on Sunday, October 21st, so leave your comments until that time.

If you go to Sarah’s website, she has links to all the stops on her blog tour, and many of those bloggers are giving away copies of her book as well (many chances to win!!).

And Ava Maria Press is giving away a Nook.  You can enter to win once a day through the end of the book tour.  Very cool.

OK, enough of my prattle.  Time to pray:

To celebrate the launch of her new book, A Catholic Mother’s Companion to Pregnancy: Walking with Mary from Conception to Baptism, Sarah Reinhard invites all of us to spend her blog book tour praying the rosary together. Today, she shares this reflection on the Institution of the Eucharist:

When Jesus instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, he began by doing what might have been the grossest act of service in his day: he washed the disciples’ feet. During the Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper in our parish, our priest washes people’s feet. Since our parish is small, it’s open to whoever is willing to go to the front.

I’ve found, over the years, an interesting correlation. Kids are often enthusiastic about this and will be the first in line. Adults are less so, though some of them will participate.

In my own experience, I find it brings me to tears to have my priest wash my foot (which isn’t nearly as stinky or gross as the disciples’ feet were) and then kiss it. There’s something tender and moving and, most of all, humbling about it. When I’ve talked to our priest about washing feet, he has said that it’s probably his favorite act. He says it gives him a chance to say thank-you in a very personal way for the people who will allow him to wash their feet. He considers it to be a gift to him.

Performing gross tasks, things that people can’t believe we would do for someone else, can be a blessing for them but also for us. It’s a two-way street of blessing, and when we avoid either end of the equation, we lose—or keep someone else from losing—the blessing that’s waiting for us.

When can I say yes to someone else’s offer? How can I embrace the service for me and return it in a way that will make me a channel for God’s grace? In an act as simple—and as disgusting—as washing feet, Jesus inspires each of us to give until it hurts.

As we pray this decade of the rosary, let’s hold all those brave women who have said yes to difficult and challenging motherhood in our intentions in a special way. Don’t forget, too, that we are praying for an increase in all respect life intentions as part of our rosary together this month. (If you’re not familiar with how to pray the rosary, you can find great resources at Rosary Army.)

Our Father . . . 

10 – Hail Mary . . .

Glory Be . . . 

O My Jesus . . . 

You can find a complete listing of the tour stops over at Snoring Scholar. Be sure to enter to win a Nook (and any number of other goodies) each day of the tour over at Ave Maria Press.

Do you know Sarah Reinhard, the Snoring Scholar, who (used to) live on a farm in Ohio?

For years, I would tell my husband about her using this full moniker: Sarah (the Snoring Scholar who lives on a farm in Ohio) wrote this or Sarah (the Snoring Scholar who lives on a farm in Ohio) wrote that or Sarah (the Snoring Scholar who lives on a farm in Ohio) doesn’t mind if we stop by on our move out to Kansas to meet her in person, can we? can we? can we?

We did.  That was back in 2007.  Eons ago in the blogging world.

Anyway.  Sarah (the Snoring Scholar who lives… you know) started writing books.  I’ve reviewed some of them, and I would link to those reviews except the search button on my blog isn’t working for reasons that can only be ascribed to Murphy or Satan (perhaps later, I will add those links).  I’ll be reviewing another book tomorrow, which is only a few hours from now, so you may be reading them back to back.  But I thought I would introduce you to her first, just in case you haven’t had the pleasure.

She doesn’t live on a farm in Ohio anymore.  She moved far far away…or maybe just across the street. 

I sent Sarah some interview questions.  I’m not sure if they reveal more about her in her answers or me in my questions.  I had thought I’d put them all together neat like in paragraph form…riiiiight.  I had my Oktoberfest party this weekend, and I do have that newborn time drain.  So, I’m submitting her answers as given.  I’m leaving my questions in their random sequence as I gave them to her.  She actually neatened them up and probably corrected my grammar and spelling mistakes, since I was pecking them out on the Kindle while nursing the baby.

Enjoy them while I type up her book review.  Oh, there are freebies involved: a Nook to win, plus a copy of her book.  So be sure to check out that post.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Yesterday, it was HOT.  Just like today is hot, and the upcoming forecast is all hot, and last week was hot and it’s been hot the entire time we’ve lived here.  Go figure…it’s Tampa.  It’s hot.  I get it.  You know it’s fall because it’s just a little less hot than it was last month, and the nighttime temperatures, on rare occasions, dip below 70 degrees.

HOT.

Peter has his first soccer game on Saturday, and he does not have soccer shorts.  The team doesn’t provide them (that’s fine), and he isn’t restricted to a particular color or style.  Just comfortable shorts.  He’s been practicing in his regular shorts which are mostly heavier cotton, many with zippers and pockets.

Yesterday, I decided enough was enough and went to Walmart to buy him some athletic shorts: elastic waist, nylon.  So the kid wouldn’t be quite so HOT in this HOT weather.

There were no nylon shorts available.

The only shorts that were available were denim or khaki (school uniform).  And there weren’t that many of them.

When Bill came home from work, I asked him, “Was it HOT today?  Do you know what they were selling at Walmart?”

“Flannel shirts?” He guessed, but he was joking.

“YES!” I said.  And long sleeved shirts, and long pants and fleece vests.  I couldn’t even find any clearance racks with shorts or other summer weight things.

My kid are still using the pool daily.  The unheated pool.

I finally looked in the girls’ section and found 3 pairs of boys shorts that looked like they were waiting for a clerk to find a home for them.  One was size 4, one looked like it was the bottom half of a pajama set, and the last one was size 8.  It might fit Peter, but I’ll likely have to stitch the waist to make it smaller.

Unbelievable.

Before Mass, I was speaking with a woman and she realized ours was a military family.

“Oh, there’s a group here of military wives…did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” I replied invitingly.  Perhaps, I thought, that is what I need.  Homeschool friends are great, Catholic friends are great, but I really really think military friends are The Best.  I have some absolutely wonderful military friends.  Unfortunately, we have all moved away from each other.  That which brought us together has also pulled us apart.

The woman mentioned the name of the group and some of the things they do.  “They’ve had quite a number of funerals, too.”

“Oh.  Really.” I said soberly.

“Yes, one man had never seen his baby, except on Skype.  Another one had been over there only one day.”

“Oh.  My.”  I replied, thinking, perhaps this is not the group for me.  I don’t know how other military wives feel, but a group whose mission ends up being bereavement support is not something I can get excited about.  I don’t mean that I wouldn’t be there for my friends, or even complete strangers, if that was required.  If anybody ever needs to go shopping for funeral attire, I hope they call me, for no one should go alone to do that.  But it is one thing to step up to a task set before you, and quite another to go looking for people to help. 

I’m sure the group is not really a bereavement ministry, but the woman didn’t really sell me on it.

*******

During the homily, the man behind me leaned over to his wife and whispered, “What is that sound?”

That would be my baby, loudly eating his dinner.  I felt myself blush, and didn’t hear the wife’s answer.  Mary was the same way, and I hated being in a quiet, public venue with her.  I looked it up and he must be doing it with his tongue, since his lips are properly turned out.  The website said it’s only a problem if it hurts the mom (it doesn’t) or if the baby isn’t gaining enough weight.

About that…

I have to go back to the doctor in 9 days to have him reweighed.  I have been weighing him periodically since his last appointment 9 days ago.  After 1 day, he was up 1 oz: good.  Two days after that, he was down almost half an ounce: terrible.  The next day, he was up almost 4 oz: fabulous.  Two or three days later, he was the same weight: depressing.  Today, he was up from the beginning weight by just shy of 8 oz in 9 days.  This is a fine weight gain in that time period, especially since he has had zero formula.

Oh, but the emotional highs and lows of reading that scale!  Sheesh.  It’s almost as bad as the emotional highs and lows of measuring my own weight.

“Mom….”

{silence}

“Mommy….”

“Mmmmm?”

“What does ‘mmmmm’ mean?” asked the 4 year old.

Technically, it means, “I am reading an article on the computer.”  But instead of saying that, I said, “It means, ‘What do you want, Mary?'”  Then I deliberately turned from the computer to face her.

I’m trying to model respect and courtesy.  Trying to give real people the attention they deserve.  These distractions aren’t going away, and will only get worse in time.  I think I need to establish a media-free period of time every day…

George had his 2 month checkup last week.  We are now at the point where he only gets a bottle for my convenience, not out of necessity.  I’m confident in my milk supply and positively convinced that he is satisfied with his feedings.  He nurses often, yes – all my children did.  But he’s not constantly clamoring for more and unhappy all the time.  No, that was how things were in July and some of August.  But not now.

And yet…oh, the child is scrawny.  And the doctor was very unhappy with the reading on the scale.  “This is the World Health growth chart,” she said, meaning not just well-fed Americans were used to calculate the data, “and he’s at zero.”  Zero.  Hey, Mom, you’re a big failure.  Your kid’s a big fat skinny zero.

Ideally, they want babies to gain an ounce a day, but a half ounce a day is still acceptable.  He is at that bottom range.  I think, since he hasn’t been to see a doctor since he was 2 weeks old, that his gain is better now than it was a month ago, but she wants me to come back in 3 weeks to prove it.

BTW, we discussed the whole issue with not being able to come in for a weight check at one month, and she said that I could have called the nurses at the clinic directly or brought him in for a sick child appointment instead of a well-baby weight check or whatever I mistakenly called it.  She wasn’t being accusatory, as in, I should have done it…rather, helpful, as in, here’s how to game the system.  This makes me really mad – not for me, because I already know those tricks – but for other moms, including myself back in 2003 when Bill was deployed and I was negotiating Tricare for the first time and I had a starving newborn and really needed help.

Weight issues aside, this kid is a cutie.  He is happy, interactive, alert.  When the nurse came to do his shots, he completely derailed her litany of what to expect and how to deal with it by his smiles and facial expressions.  And even after getting three shots, he calmed down very quickly.  He’s just easy to please.  Within reason.

School with a newborn is difficult, even if he is good-natured.  The big kids help out by holding him whenever I let them.  I think Billy is reading history or geography here.

I see this view a lot: baby slung over a sibling’s shoulder.  I’m still his favorite, but he loves everybody.

Do you think my boys need haircuts?  Not the little guy, but the big ones.

The only thing, developmentally, I’ve noticed about George is that he doesn’t coo as much as my other kids did.  Maybe it’s still early.  I remember Mary didn’t use many words when she was 15-18 months old, but she cooed when she was an infant.  Maybe he’ll be the opposite: silent unless speaking profound thoughts.  I think his genes are making that unlikely.

All of these pictures were taken in the last week.  George doesn’t mind being placed on his tummy as long as it’s not for too long.  Katie has gotten him to roll over, but his arm was just right.  He doesn’t know yet how to make his arm just right.  When the earlier photos were taken, he was doing a good job holding up his head.  By the last photo, he was pushing up his chest as well.  By the time I got the camera, he was tired, so it was not nearly as high as it had been.  But they grow so quickly, these babies.

And do you see that intently focused look in those top two photos?  He is, I am sure, admiring the neat hand-stitching of his new quilt, a gift from Barbara.  Isn’t it pretty?

We live in one of those gated neighborhoods which are very common in the Tampa area.  I’m not a snob, and I have no illusions that the gate does much to keep bad people out.  There are paths on either side of the gate, so you can freely walk into my neighborhood.  And all you have to do is wait for a car who has the coded sticker on their window or a driver with the right code, and follow them in.  This just happens to be where I found a house in our price range, big enough to comfortably fit us, and available when I needed it.  The gate was not a factor in determining which house to rent.

Because of the gate, the school bus doesn’t come in.  Students get dropped off at one entrance or the other – one about a half mile down the road from the other.  If you made a complete loop through the neighborhood, including the outside bit along the public road between the two gates, you will have done a 5k – convenient for those of us who run, or wish to run.

By this calculation, the farthest any student would have to travel from their home to the bus stop would be under a mile and a half.  Every time I go out in the afternoon to take a kid to something or run an errand, I see a dozen cars or more parked at the entrance, waiting for the bus.

I realize that, like me, some parents need to rush their kids off to after school activities or on errands.  Or they need the kids to come home quickly to do homework before rushing off to activities.  Or maybe sometimes the weather is bad (afternoon thunderstorms being very common this time of year).  Or maybe a kid is injured or has some other condition that prevents them from walking.  And maybe that kindergartener who lives all the way in the back of the neighborhood would have a hard time trudging that full distance.

But is it possible, even likely, that most of these parents just think it’s too much for their children to walk home?  Or too dangerous to walk down the sidewalk in a gated neighborhood?  I know that in some communities (on military installations, for example) an 11 year old would not be permitted to walk home alone (and I think that is ridiculous), but must they be picked up in a car?  Surely, not all these children live clumped at that mile-plus section of the neighborhood.  I’m sure they are spread out – a half mile or three-quarters of a mile away instead.

We have NYC outlawing soda in large quantities in the fight against obesity.  I think the problem isn’t the food we eat as much as it is the reality that we just won’t exercise, even when it’s the natural and necessary thing to do.

If not for Katie, we would be eating PB&J for dinner every night…late.  I have a menu plan.  And I have the food in the pantry or fridge or freezer. 

But things always seem to crop up when it’s time to actually start prepping the evening meal: hungry baby, cranky baby, soaking wet baby…husband in a time zone 7 hours ahead who wants to skype before bed…just things.

Today was meatloaf, and I was on step one when my husband emailed saying he was available to talk.  Katie offered to take over and I have a recipe, so it would be easy enough for her to follow along.  Some recipes are in my head and not very specific (search fridge for available ingredients, add some spices, cook until done), but this one is written out.

I went to the office to call him and told her to ask me if she wasn’t sure of anything.

Like Worcestershire sauce.  She didn’t know what that was.

And I had some penciled in correction regarding the eggs that the recipe required.

And then she wanted to know what “cat soup” was.

“Cat soup” is spelled c-a-t-s-u-p.  That was pretty funny.

Then she wanted to know how to mix it.  I think this was the first time she ever touched raw ground beef with her bare hands.  She survived.

Dinner was yummy.