How I'm Ending my Year

We are almost recovered from Christmas. Almost. We always get hit with more stuff than anticipated, and after 3 weeks off I am trying to restore some order to our home. So there is a major PURGE going on here. Of course, one thing always leads to another and it seems our whole house needs some going through.

Even as I sit, I hear the pitter patter of little feet above my head, scrambling to put away before hurricane Mom hits. OK, maybe not so much a pitter patter as a herd of elephants. Either way, I am so grateful for all of the frozen soups and stews and pizza that we stored up on, because we are working up quite an appetite around here and the last thing I feel like doing is making another mess.

This is just how I like to start my new year. It will be almost 4 weeks of no school by the time we start up again, and there will be no revving our engines; that pedal will hit the floor next Monday and I'm hoping that our house will be ready. Off to the trenches...

Lucky Thirteen

Thirteen years ago I married the love of my life, three days after Christmas. Thirteen years, three moves, five jobs, two miscarriages, three children, seven or so insurance plans later, here we are. We have a tradition of going out to a French restaurant each year. We always try something unusual; we've had squab (pigeon), escargot, quail, and a few other interesting dishes. Somehow the French know how to take the most unappetizing food, wrap it in filo dough, drench it in a rich butter sauce and make it taste heavenly.

We always look back at our past year and set goals for the new one. It is a wonderful way to end the past year and helps us to focus on the things that really matter. Our conversation is varied; we talk about our aspirations for the following year, be it goals for school or household projects. We don't limit ourselves to practical things though. We've been known to talk about our dream of having a vacation home someday where we can spend extended time away with our children and grandchildren. We talk about our dream of having a house big enough to host our extended families for holidays; a guest room for those who travel. We talk of more kids, about homeschooling, about Steve's business. Though the topics are many, they always seem to have a common thread. Family. Hospitality. Reaching out to others. Teaching our kids. Passing on the faith to our children.

This year we missed our dinner out for the first time. Steve was sick the day before our anniversary and was just too tired to go out. He was too tired even to dream. So we missed our tradition. I really missed it. I spent the day cleaning out the boys room in anticipation of painting, finally after 3 years of living here. Cleaning the room of two pack rats was not exactly the most romantic way to spend our anniversary, but it had to be done. The day was not as I had envisioned it, but I realized that here in our home, in the midst of sickness and messy rooms, I was living out my marriage vows. In sickness and in health. In good times and in bad.

Our dinner will come. We'll talk about what's been the toughest year we've had thus far. We'll dream that business will pick up and that we'll be able to replace the hot water heater before it goes. I anticipate that we'll be talking about more practicals than last year, because right now that vacation home is just too difficult to imagine. We are just so grateful to have the home God has given us, even if it has no garage (who ever thought a garage would be a dream???) and even though the dishwasher is on it's last leg. I feel a little like George Bailey in 'It's a Wonderful Life' this year. We have a roof over our heads, three precious gifts from God and our faith. And isn't that what really matters? And maybe by the time we get out for a dinner to discuss it all, we'll have a newly painted room for the pack rats.

Happy Anniversary to the love of my life!

The Best Christmas Present EVER

Seven years ago today the best Christmas present I ever got was delivered at 6:30 AM. Kind of early for a present you might think. And you would be right because this package came exactly a week earlier than expected. Well, earlier than my OB expected. But I have to admit that when I heard I was due with our second baby on Dec. 31, my first thought was, oh no, I'm going to be in the hospital on Christmas. I don't know why I thought that, but I joked all during my pregnancy that I was the only pregnant mother hoping to be late. Maybe it was because our oldest son was only 3 and just beginning to 'get' Christmas and I really, really wanted to be as present as possible. Perhaps it was because I knew I would really miss celebrating the real meaning of Christmas with the songs our musical family always sings. Or maybe it was because I really, really love food and what Italian family doesn't know how to celebrate the second most important part of Christmas, which is food. Lots and lots of food.

When I went to bed on December 23, quite ready for the holidays, presents bought and wrapped a month ago, tree up and decorated, wreaths hung on all our windows, garland hanging on our almost finished new front porch, I thought I'd made it. I couldn't wait for Christmas Eve and for all of the festivities to begin. And then I woke up. 1 AM. Crap. That felt like 'something'. Now normally I would have waited a while to see what was going on, but this was 1AM on Christmas Eve and I just knew. I. Just. Knew. This was IT. Even though the contractions were not too close together or too painful, I knew my prophesy of 8 months earlier was coming true. So I called the OB who felt that I should come in because he was just about to deliver another Christmas angel and he would be at the hospital for a while anyway. So away we went. When I arrived it was obvious our little guy was coming soon.

Despite the dread I had felt earlier, it turned out to be the most peaceful night I'd ever experienced. It had started snowing and the hospital was earily quiet, perhaps because all of the inductions and scheduled C-sections that NJ hospitals are so famous for were not scheduled on such a holy day. As I held my newborn son for those hours after his birth with my husband by my side, I experienced a small taste of what our Blessed Mother must have felt. I had received the best Christmas present I would ever get, all wrapped up in small white blanket with little ducks all over it. OK - maybe a bit cozier than swaddling clothes, and I bet Joseph wasn't busy by Mary's side trying to assemble a Playmobile airplane with a hundred pieces, but you get the point.

When people find out when Damian's birthday is, I almost always get 'that look', like were you crazy? I've been asked 'What were you thinking?' by total strangers. They've even made comments about the lousy timing of his big day, right in front of him. These are the same people who tell their horrible birth stories to the expectant mom in line in front of them at the grocery store. Would I be mean to say that sometimes I think there is a special place in Purgatory for people like that? OK, I won't say it, but I might think it next time someone gives me 'that look'. What I think is so interesting is that only adults seem to think this. Damian thinks it is so cool that he shares a birthday with Jesus. He loves that he gets more gifts that everyone else. And he loves that because he sees ALL of his extended family on Christmas, he gets the biggest birthday party, besides the one with his friends in January. And because his mother feels just a bit bad for reasons that he is clueless to, she overcompensates just a wee bit to make his special day not get lost in the busyness of the day.

So, 7th Happy Birthday Damian! I love you so much. Thanks for making Christmas extra special with your big smile. And never let people convince you that you were born a week early. You came just on time.

What's in a name?

I had to change the name of my blog. I am so technologically challenged that I started a blog and proceeded to lose it - all in one day. I had no idea how to find it, so I googled "Blessed Among Men" blog. I was so excited to see the results! Except...it wasn't my blog. In fact, it was much better looking. I kind of ignored it for a few months; I mean, with only two followers (thanks, Jaclyn and Angela), who really cared, right? But I found myself returning to this blog often. Not mine, but that other one. I was starting to feel like I was a copycat, even though I had no idea her blog existed earlier. Besides, she has 6 boys, and somehow it seemed to me that she was more entitled that I. So here I sit on the couch trying to come up with a creative title that reflects who we are. I am not great in the creative department, so I asked my hubby for help. Everything we came up with was either too boring, or too common and most likely taken. After some discussion we came up with Homeschool on the Couch. Actually it was a toss-up between Homeschool on the Couch and Homeschool in the Kitchen. Ultimately the first won out because, honestly, homeschooling on the couch is probably my favorite thing that we do all day. Why? Well, that's for another post.

Value of a tooth

Damian (to mom): I can't believe I have another loose tooth. I'm going to get a dollar from the tooth fairy.

Mom: Is that how much she gives you? That's a lot of money!

Damian (with a very bashful look on his face): I think it's because I'm so cute. Long pause. Christian only gets 50 cents.

Just a spoonful of sugar...

helps the probiotics go down?

Overhead from playroom:

Dr.: You'll have to take your probiotics. I have no idea what they are, but they should help.

Sounds of patient resisting...

Dr.: OK - then you need to take fish oils. That will definitely help.


Dr. Burstein would be proud.

Letting Boys Be Boys

Letting my boys be boys at this very moment means letting them shoot bottle rockets in the back yard. They should be inside finishing school work, but during their break they decided to drag out the hose and start shooting off a rocket. They should be inside doing science; instead they are outside experiencing science. I think the whole neighborhood is experiencing science along with them. Our hose makes this ungodly high-pitched sound when it's on - so loud that if I try to water the garden while Ben sleeps he sometimes wakes up yelling 'go swimming now!'. The water, coupled with the rocket launch, the air pump and the shrieking of 3 very excited boys is certainly being heard all over our small neighborhood. This is what many would call a 'homeschool moment'. It's what I call a break for mom, who really should be doing laundry...