12.22.08
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Sold Out

Yesterday’s two hour adventure at the grocery store was slightly less successful than I had hoped. Items I could not find:

clementines
syrup
pineapple juice (in any form)
canned pumpkin
almond extract
powdered sugar
pecans

For school, Fritz just needs to recopy an essay and read a few chapters in a book and then school is officially out for 2008. I guess I’ll be heading to another grocery store when he’s done. Today is baking day. Tomorrow is cleaning day.

Bill has a theory that Christmas lights charge up children. Last weekend he decorated outside, and the kids went wild. Yesterday he strung the lights on the tree, and I was convinced I could hear their little bodies emitting a humming vibratory noise whenever they passed near.

Only.three.more.days. Are you excited yet?

12.18.08
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Katie’s MRI

Katie has been complaining of knee pain for about a year now, and her newest doctor decided she should have an MRI. Because of her age, she had to be sedated. Bill took off work yesterday and spent all day at Walter Reed with her – leaving around 6 AM and returning at 5 PM.

Both my older boys have been anesthetized for different things, and their recovery was uneventful. Not surprisingly, though, Katie takes after her father and his side of the family with vomiting and an unwillingness to wake up afterward. At home, she closely resembled a late night drunk as she staggered around with half-lidded eyes. I had to order her several times to stay put before she started calling out when she wanted something. It was a pitiable sight.

We don’t expect to hear from the doctor until next week. And while a prayer for her would be appreciated, think more of the other littler children who were getting MRIs with her. They, and their parents, suffering through much worse than a chronic complaint of achiness could really use a few Aves.

12.17.08
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Not the Big Brother

Last night, Bill very generously left work “early” (before 6 pm) and got home in time for me to attend a penance service sans children. Mary was not happy at being left behind, but she would have been more unhappy to attend a reflective service past her bedtime. And I would have been most unhappy at dealing with an unhappy baby at said reflective service and might possibly have nullified any potential grace received thereby.

As toddlers, my children are not as anti Not the Momma as they are when infants. With no other choice, they will eventually find solace on daddy’s shoulder and pass out from exhaustion. Or they might resolve to hold an all-night vigil awaiting my return. Either way, a few hours every so often without me doesn’t kill them.

Bill, though, long used to playing second fiddle to me, is now finding even that slight superiority being usurped by his oldest son. Mary spends much more time with her homeschooled big brother than with her works-out-of-the-house father, and she finds Fritz to be a fun and adequate alternative to her preferred caregiver. Fritz, to his credit, loves to dote on her, carry her around, play with her (anything, anything, to avoid doing school work, right?).

So last night, as she loudly informed everyone her opinion regarding Mom-going-out-for-the-evening, Bill would reach for her to offer his comfort, and she would swat him away while turning to Fritz. It was his chest I saw draped with her sleeping body when I returned.

Poor Bill. Not only is he Not the Momma, he’s Not Fritz either.

12.12.08
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Good stuff

Hot tomato soup for lunch.

Bill got back last night from Japan.

The piano teacher finally emailed me back confirming that I had, in fact, left my day planner there. I have found my mind.

My dad is out of the hospital and mobile. Broken hips aren’t like broken legs, and they get you up and moving around fairly soon. He has to use a walker, but we aren’t going to call it that, because old people use walkers. I’m going to call it a “four-point crutch.”

My mother is a Registered Nurse. She does home visiting and happened to be telling me several weeks ago that people don’t like to use the term “nursing home,” because nursing homes, like walkers, are for old people. Instead, when she has a patient who needs some “assisted living”, she tells them that they need to go to Rehab. It’s still a nursing home.

Yesterday she called with an update about Dad and said he’d be leaving the hospital probably that day. She said he’d be going to rehab. I said, “Oh. You mean he’s going to a nursing home.” She laughed, remembering how she had clued me in on that euphemism just recently.

So, my not-so-old Dad is going to practice ambulating with his four-point crutch at a rehab facility. He should be home before Christmas.

Lastly, Billy informed me that, for France, he is to take chocolate for the party. Doesn’t get much easier than that. I have a bag of M&Ms in the cupboard…

12.10.08
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S.O.S.

I have four children in CCD. Next week, they are having an “Around-the-World” Christmas party. That’s sounds nice, right?

Of course, that means bringing in food or other Christmas-y things related to different countries.

Fortunately, the girls’ classes have the same country. Unfortunately, their country is the Phillipines.

Billy has France.

Fritz has Italy.

If anybody has any suggestions…

…do not simply Google “French Christmas food.” I can do that. I could probably pull out some cookbooks I have and get some ideas for Italy and France. The Phillipines is tough, though.

Key word: simple.

Key concept: I do not wish to purchase new kitchenware, and I do not want to hunt in 8 different stores for a specialty ingredient.

I know, I’m so difficult.

Also, they prefer finger foods. Desserts. Appetizers.

Help!