This Year's Advent Preparations

Everything is different for our Advent season this year, so it has taken more time for me to get things prepared. We hosted Thanksgiving as we do every year for Eli's family, and as usual I had a To-Do list a mile long that I "had" to finish before people came. It's good because things get done; not good because I was already tired and pushing myself that hard wiped me out. So I limped into Advent lame.

Eli loves the Christmas season and all the trimmings that come with it, so he wants the house decorated as soon after Thanksgiving as possible. Even with his promptings I didn't get much done until this past week. Our artificial Christmas tree was one of the casualties of the basement flooding last summer, so we had to order a new one. We chose a 7.5 foot artificial pre-lit tree...stringing lights is a dreaded task for me every year. The tree came surprisingly a week ahead of schedule. It's exciting having the room for such a big tree! Last summer we had envisioned buying a real tree, but it's a huge bonus right now not having to vacuum up needles, keep it watered, or worry about such a mess if it tips over. 

For an Advent story we've been reading from "Charlie and Noel: an Advent Calendar Story." The boys said we needed to get a "Noel" stuffed donkey like the one in the story; today a friend from church had St. Nicholas bags for all the kids and guess what was in Ian's!

This year I decided to make a "Jesse Tree" with the boys as an Advent countdown. This too we started late, about a week into Advent, but we caught up and it's something the boys look forward to every day. I found a little rustic tree at a thrift store last year for $4, and repurposed it this year for our Jesse tree. I ordered the  Jesse Tree Advent Adventure DVD from Holy Heroes  that includes printable ornaments for the boys to color, cut out, and hang on the tree every day. Every day they also watch a video story from the Bible of a person from the family tree of Jesus (hence the "Jesse tree", as Christ is the "stem of Jesse").  

Beside the Jesse Tree is our Advent wreath, and the manger awaiting the Baby Jesus. Unfortunately this year we didn't do our traditional sacrifices and good deeds to earn soft things to put in the manger for Jesus; all the strips of fabric were ruined in the basement flood as well and I didn't get around to finding new scraps. I'm sure there is a variation of this we could do in lieu of "soft things" but my imagination evades me lately. 

Our nativity scenes are up and also awaiting the Baby Jesus! The colored set lost some paint in the flood, but it'll do for now. Poor St. Joseph and the ox have bald spots.

Also exciting is that we now have a place to hang stockings! Eli made this mock fireplace mantle shelf at my request last month. It was his first woodworking project and it turned out great! Next on my To-Do list: make nice stockings for everyone.

I braved the cold when I was feeling a bit more energetic and hung some garland and lights (and the pinecones from our front porch last year) on the railing of our balcony.

The snow has made it feel so much more Christmas-like out, and I have to say I get as excited as the boys when the flurries start flying. There's also a greater sense of peace of mind now that Eli only has five minutes to drive to work, and his new work vehicle has 4-wheel drive. I'm excited for our first Christmas in our new home!

Bathroom Updates-Part I

Before Thanksgiving we made some progress on our bathroom updates. As the only bathroom in this house, and one that is smaller than many walk-in closets, creative changes were necessary for it to function for all six of us.

The original towel bar (the only one in the room) could only hold one bath towel and one hand towel. Towels ended up on the floor most of the time. It was the first thing to go (along with the original light switch cover, which was wallpapered with the same country blue and pink heart wallpaper). Little did I know the towel bar was anchored to the wall, leaving nickel-sized holes in the plaster when removed.

My Mom, God bless her, spent two days tearing and scraping the rest of the wallpaper off the walls. There were two layers of wallpaper; I'm guessing the blue dated to sometime in the the 80's, and the pink/orange/green flowered and striped stuff from the 60's or 70's. Something my Grandma Mahoney said when she wallpapered most of the downstairs walls in their house kept coming to mind: "Wallpaper covers a multitude of sins." Oh yes it does.

If I had a time machine, I would love to see what the square tile looked like that made up the wainscoting in the bathroom so many years ago. As it was, removing the wallpaper uncovered multiple layers of paint: dark teal, pink, mint green, and yellow before succumbing to the wallpaper. And of course, there was still some grout still stuck on there for good measure. It's hard to believe someone would rip out tile in favor of cheap gold-marbled waterproof paneling.

Above the shower I ran out of spackling (and time) to patch all the cracks and holes in the plaster. I did take the time to knock some plaster off the chimney. Eventually I'll remove all the plaster on the bricks and seal them, leaving the chimney exposed. The paint I used is the gray I decided not to paint the kitchen. It works so much better in the bathroom!

Through this winter hopefully Eli will be able to get the rest of the beadboard installed.We had saved to update other things in the bathroom, and then one Suburban needed both front and rear ball joints replaced, and the other Suburban needed a new gas tank. So the plan is to next year replace:

the toilet,

the flooring with this basketweave tile (yes, good thing the bathroom is so small!)

The vanity lighting with this schoolhouse fixture:

The ceiling fixture with this schoolhouse pendant:

And the vanity with one of these:  

or

Saint Andrew's Christmas Novena

Today is the feast day of St. Andrew, which also starts the Christmas Novena. This is the first year we are saying this novena, mostly because I don't realize it's time to start it until a few days after the fact.

To do this Novena, think carefully of a specific intention and write it down. Then recite the novena prayer 15 times, each day, either over the course of the day or all at once. Remember to pray with confidence, with the faith of a little child, believing that God will absolutely grant your desires if it is in your best interest, and if it is not, that He has something so much more amazing planned for you.

Just to meditate on these words is so uplifting in itself. DON'T WAIT.  God wants us to ask, and in this season of giving I'm sure it is His delight to give us an answer that will be a great blessing to us.

The First Three Months

I have officially hit the 2nd trimester of this pregnancy--14 weeks and a day, to be exact--and I cannot be more relieved. I am a nervous mess the first three months of pregnancy. It may be hard to understand for those who do not suffer from anxiety, or who have never lost a baby, but some whole weeks were dealt with minute by minute.

This is the post of truth. I am more than happy to suffer these things for the greater good that is coming, but I'm choosing to share these experiences to ask for prayers, because I am weak, and for those mamas who are going through similar things. You are not alone. Just ask and you have my prayers as well. I have a litany of expecting mothers I pray for every morning.

During weeks 7 and 8 I had so many moments of panic, requiring me to sit and breathe deeply, at times bending my head down to my knees to alleviate the light-headedness I was feeling. This poor baby. There were moments of utter terror where everything seemed to be going belly-up. They passed, and I moved on to the next worry.

My morning sickness--more appropriately, all day sickness-- has been very different this pregnancy. It didn't start until 4 weeks (the last two pregnancies I was nauseous almost immediately). And it has lasted up until this week. At times I would get a day or two of good days, then a string of 5-7 really rough days. Monday and Tuesday were rough, but I am now on my third day of little to no nausea, which is such a relief. Maybe now that I'm in the 2nd trimester the crumminess has passed? We shall see. Exhaustion remains, though it's been a state of life for the last ten years. I've also had heartburn on and off since the very beginning, so I know the hairy baby/heartburn prediction is a myth.

This is my 8th pregnancy (imagine the shocked reactions I get every time I have to tell a nurse or technician that!); you'd think by now I'd know what to eat or not. Yet I Google every single thing I put in my mouth, worried I've forgotten what might hurt the baby. Despite this concern, I made the mistake of buying a packaged salad from a gas station one Sunday after Mass. It was a rough day. I took the boys to Mass alone, I was burned out, and thought lettuce was a better choice than any of the other fast food options that presented themselves. I chose a lettuce/veggie mix that had no meat or dressing in it, for safety's sake. However, I was waken at midnight with the worst stomach pains I had felt in a very long time. I spent most of the next 24 hours on the couch or running to the bathroom. A few hours into this nightmare Eli's Mom came to watch the boys and I drove myself to the clinic so my doctor could see me. Sure enough, I had food poisoning. With all the warnings not to eat deli meats, raw seafood, and all sorts of other things because of the danger of bacteria causing miscarriage or birth defects in babies, I was so scared for this little one. My doctor reassured me though that in most cases food poisoning is harmless to baby, as long as you stay hydrated. At any rate, it does me no good to worry about something I cannot change.

We have our baby girl name decided on. It has been decided on for a few years now....we've just never needed it. We have three or four boy's first names we are considering, but the boy middle name is decided. If we can't get any farther than that we may end up calling this baby by his middle name....

So there are the highlights of the first trimester for you. Despite the scares and the worry and the sick, there have been moments of such great joy and love for this new little life. During my 12 week OB appointment there was some worry that I was experiencing placental abruption, so my doctor grabbed the ultrasound machine to check on baby. Everything turned out to be ok, thankfully. Baby had grown and heartbeat was strong and healthy. I am always in awe watching these tiny little arms wave and these tiny little legs kick and this tiny little body wiggling. I have watched this video about 500 times, and it never gets old. At the time of this ultrasound baby was just over 2 inches long. And I cannot wait to see baby again!

Creatures, the Creeps, and a Boy Named Jerky

There seems no end to the discoveries we're making at our new homestead. We moved ten minutes east and it's a whole new world over here. Here are some of the highlights.

Living on the edge of a small town (with a population of about 430) is almost like living in the country. We lived here about five years ago, for almost a year, but I don't recall this town smelling so much. Maybe it's because of our location? With a gas station a block south and right on a highway, there are always livestock semis driving by or stopping close by. Many mornings this summer I sat outside to enjoy my coffee in the peaceful fresh morning air--only to find there was no fresh air. It smelled like a cattle farm (or hog confinement) was next door.

Along with not being fresh, there was no peace either! Among the mooing and squealing of the terrified, likely death-bound livestock, semis' jake brakes thundered as truckers complied with the town's speed limit; semi upon semi rolled on by just a block away. Work trucks followed, carrying crews of construction workers from the multitude of those kind of businesses in the area. This may be a small town, but it sure is a busy, hardworking town. What can you expect in the heart of farm country? And commercial farm country to boot. I now enjoy my coffee by an open window (when weather allows) at the back of the house where there's considerable less noise.

***

The first night we stayed here we made the mistake of leaving the garage door open. We discovered several toads complacently hopping around the garage floor. We were surrounded by a knot of toads, with lines of them coming up the driveway. Did you know toads form knots? I had to Google what "swarms" of toads were even called. If it had been frogs it would've been an army or a colony.

***

I was sitting on the "patio" (also known as the extra parking spot on the other side of the garage) one evening and was disturbed to hear a loud rustling and cracking of branches in the trees by the creek. I walked down there to see what I could see, and a massive black something-or-other flew into the tops of the trees where I couldn't see it. It was then completely silent, as if it was trying to be invisible. It was either an intelligent crow or an escaped monkey. I've encountered this thing several times since, and I still haven't solved the mystery of its identity.

***

Another night I was startled out of my seat (in the same place) by an awful screeching sound, and a massive flying creature hitting the tree right over my head. (We have trees everywhere.) I looked up to see an owl staring at me from no more than twenty feet above me. Another owl came along and swooped it, and they both flew off into the sunset. These owls frequent the creek trees, our pine trees, everywhere. Walking down the upstairs hall one evening I saw one perch on the roof of our mud room.

***

We hadn't been here more than a month, when one night Gavin and Liam slammed through my bedroom door, breathless and shaking.

"MOM! THERE'S A BAT IN OUR ROOM!"

My nemesis. I flew out of bed and slammed the door. What to do? Eli was at work again. Aidan came wandering in a few seconds later, complacently asking what was going on.

"SHUT THE DOOR!"

I assessed then that no one had come into contact with the bat. Lights. We needed lights on in the hall so it wouldn't come out of the bedroom. I asked Aidan if he was scared of bats, and he shrugged. "Not really."

I am ashamed to admit that I, o cowardly mother, sent my 9 year old son into a war zone I was afraid to enter. I watched through the crack in the doorway as he flipped the hall light switch on. A flash of light, and a pop, and the hallway was plunged back into darkness. The light had burned out. "Get back in here!" I hissed through the crack. Now what?!

I'm not sure how long it took me to work up the courage to open that door again, four boys piled on my bed staring at me expectantly. I finally had to ask myself if a soldier would be that cowardly in the face of an enemy (and one that's not really even an enemy).

I crawled down the hallway (bats nest in people's hair, haven't you heard?) and risked a peek into the little boys room. Flitting shadows. He was still in there. I pulled the door shut tight and ran downstairs for the masking tape. I taped shut every crack in and around that door--even cracks a bat couldn't possibly squeeze through. I also taped the closet door shut in the big boys' room, since the rooms' closets connect. I left Eli a message about the emergency and sent the big boys back to their room. The little boys hunkered down with me for the night.

The next morning Eli woke me up wearing gloves and wielding a grill spatula. "The bat's gone," he proclaimed. "I looked under and behind everything and he's no where. Maybe he crawled back out?" What were the chances?

That day I decided to face my fear and work on unpacking boxes of the boys' books, stacking them into the bookcase in their room. I was on my knees working when I lost my balance and leaned against the bookcase for support. It tipped backward against the wall for a second. And the world stood still as an ugly little pig-faced rat peeked it's head over the back of the bookcase. I screamed...grabbed Ian who was playing with blocks on the floor behind me, and backed out of there as fast as I could manage. The bat had ducked back behind the bookcase again but I could see the claw-like hooks on his wings still hanging onto the top of the bookcase.

Eli was up for the day by then, thankfully. The bat was removed, and will never ever return. And now I leave all the lights on upstairs from twilight until we go to bed, hoping to discourage any more bats from coming in. The boys were too scarred to sleep in that room for a week, and I can't go into a room at night without pausing at the door, searching for flitting shadows first.

***

With toads, owls, and crows (oh my!) and bats aplenty in our corner of the world, something seemed a little witchy around here. One morning Eli joined me on the "patio", where this is our view:

Eli said he was just waiting for a face to peek out of a window. A pale, half-starved, ghostly face. The house is abandoned, and we're told used only for storage. Though a few mornings ago Eli noticed a light on in the house when he was leaving for work. It's the kind of house my brothers and I used to call haunted houses, and would break into when we were young to investigate. (I imagine it's only a matter of time before my own sons attempt this.) I now only glance at the brown house quickly in passing. I don't need my imagination to supply where reality fails it. Thank you, dear. I have plans to plant a row of the tall thin arborvitae trees along our property line to improve the view. I've also considered asking the owner if I can paint a mural over the side of the house that faces ours...something bright and cheery...but who has the time and money for that?

***

We had been living here all of ten days when this story happened. I was in the middle of ripping out carpet and there were boxes and piles everywhere. I ran outside to throw something in the dumpster when a vehicle slowed down and stopped at the end of our sidewalk. Oh boy, Jehovah's Witnesses, I thought.

Three elderly people exited the vehicle and slowly made their way to the front door. They appeared to be discussing the outside of the house, pointing and commenting as they went. They were not dressed like Jehovah's Witnessess.

"Did you just buy this house?" one lady asked. When I affirmed that, she explained they had seen it go up for sale, and that their grandparents had built the house in 1901. She asked if they could come in and look around. While I was hesitant, they didn't appear to be the homicidal geriatric type. I let them in.

The designated speaker said that their grandparents, Renata and Otto, had built this house for their young family. A great uncle of theirs had lived in the brown house next door, and he owned a lumber mill. They used lumber from there for this house, and at the time it cost $600 to build it. She described to me how our living room had been the parlor and our dining room the living room. They explained where "grandpa's chair" had sat, and the fun they had running around the big house. There was a German Lutheran church across the street from here a long time ago that they went to when they stayed here. She said the foundation of a shop that sits there now is all that's left of the church. Our kitchen had once been two rooms: the kitchen was in the back part where the fridge, washer/dryer, and oven are now, and the area where our kitchen table sits was the dining room. She described the kitchen as having no cabinets, but the wall between the kitchen and dining room was a large built-in China hutch. Oh how I wish I had seen this! I asked if there were photos. The brother replied that they probably didn't have a camera just to take a photo of a room in a house. Puts my thousands-of-photos-overloaded-smart-phone into perspective. I need to do more research. I have not yet found old photos of this house or any of the former occupants.

***

Meeting neighbors has been another eye-opening experience. In a town this size almost everyone is your neighbor. No one bats an eye about stopping by to ask who you are, or would you like us to load up those branches for you and haul them to the burn pile north of town?

One neighbor to the west of us has been hiring Aidan to do yard work for him on Saturdays. Aidan has been picking up sticks, running a leafblower, and clearing out weeds. He makes a little money in the process and gets to work for someone other than his family.

Almost as familiar now as landmarks are the early morning walkers. There is a group of older ladies I see every morning heading down the street, talking animatedly as they go. I referred to them once as the Golden Girls, and it stuck for us.

There is an old gentleman who also walks the same street. He has a quirky way of walking, stepping stiffly on one leg, that suggests some kind of injury. My mind wanders at times, pondering all the stories we'll never hear.

The older man in the trailer across the street is Bill, and we're told he is some degree of cousin to Eli. He has a whole fence line of concord grapes that he never uses, and a shop where he gets together with "the guys" to have a beer and discuss life. He was one of the neighbors who so generously hauled off loads of carpet to "the pile" that I had ripped out of the house. Thank you, Bill!

I observed from the kitchen window one afternoon three of my boys marching across the street to Bill's shed like they owned the place. When they were called back home and asked what in the world they thought they were doing, I was told matter-of-factly that they were going to get a deck of playing cards from Bill. Bill, of course, laughed and said they were more than welcome to his cards.

The other older man in the trailer next to Bill's is rumored to be the richest man in this town. He made his money in cattle, but lives like he's poor, driving an old rundown car and truck.

***

Shortly after the original owner's grandchildren stopped by, we met the neighbors directly to the east of us. I didn't even know there was a little white house beyond the brown house and machine shed when we first moved in. This newly-met neighbor was chatting with Eli when he mentioned the cage in our attic. He said that many years ago there was an insane person who used to bark at people who they kept locked in there.

Eli relayed this story to me, and I shook my head. "There's no cage in our attic!" Eli reminded me of a wired off corner of the attic we had seen when we first walked through the house. I asked him to show it to me that night. (I don't recommend going into an attic at night, unless it's pretty and full of light and familiar to you, by the way.)

I inspected the "cage" with horror, imagining a poor tortured soul going raving mad up there while lightening burned through the sky and thunder shook the rafters just at his back. There was some sort of small pan hanging in the center of the cage, about a foot from the floor. "A candle holder?" Eli suggested.

I went to bed that night, thoroughly creeped out, saying Hail Mary's and wishing desperately that our house had been blessed already. I slept horribly, though the creepy feeling wore off a bit the next day. I posted a photo of the cage on social media, and was comforted by the comment that keeping a mentally ill family member at home rather than sending them to a mental hospital back in those days was merciful. Mental healthcare in the first half of the 20th century was awful. They didn't have the modern medications that we have now, only experimental procedures: crude partial lobotomies, restraints, and more cages.

On the initial walk-through of the house, the "cage" reminded me of a fly coop, and I assumed some time in years past maybe they had started baby chicks up there. Or, maybe an eccentric former occupant had kept pigeons up there. My Grandpa Mahoney would've loved that.

I started looking at the cage more logically. It would take our boys all of five seconds to break out of it. There's no way a mad-man would have been contained in it for long. The story of our mad-man's cage had spread though, and it became the highlight of our house tour when people came to see our new home. Recently, an uncle and aunt from out of state came to visit, and it was during their visit that we realized what the "hanging thing" in the middle of the cage was. It's tiny scale, very old, and very very neat.

It almost completely disproves the mad-man theory as well. The most likely story for the cage is that it was once used to store plants: herbs, seeds, and whatever else they wanted to dry. The wire walls were probably meant to discourage mice from getting into the goods. The scales may have been used to measure things before they were packaged. While the mad-man story is much more exciting, I chose to believe the more comforting "dry goods store" theory. And I now have the overwhelming urge to paint every square inch of the attic white. 

***

I have not yet met one lady who lives on our street. She lives at the very end of the street, two houses down, to be exact. I had the perfect chance about a month ago, but nothing came of it.

We gave the boys permission to ride their bikes down the street as far as this lady's driveway. Any farther and the street becomes indistinguishable from the parking lot of a concrete business. The last house on the street, her house is small with a deck on the front, a wheelchair ramp up one side, and a set of stairs on the other. 

I was standing at the kitchen sink early one morning when I saw Gavin limping toward the house, whimpering. I ran outside to see what had happened. All I got out of him was that he had crashed his bike. Liam, tagging along behind him, said, "Stairs!!! He fell down stairs, Mom!" 

I sent them in the house and marched down the street, looking for Gavin's bike. I got to the end of the street, and there it was: upside down on the lady's deck stairs. It was apparent that Gavin had pedaled his bike up the wheelchair ramp and then not so successfully down the steps. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, quickly trying to think of an appropriate apology and wondering if we should offer her something for the trouble. It was very early...early enough that she may have been woken by a boy somersaulting down her steps on a mountain bike. Her van was in the driveway, but she never answered the door. I assumed that she either slept through everything, or was too angry or confused to open the door. I may never know.

***

Along with being limited in how far they can bike down our dirt-road street, the boys were forbidden to climb "The Lego Blocks". The Lego blocks are massive concrete blocks that make up a retaining wall on the back side of the concrete business. They have two knobs at the top of each that make them look just like Legos. However, when you get a group of little boys together, especially one that includes the mischievous neighbor boy who's back yard connects ours with the Lego Blocks, all sense of danger disappears. I've been informed that the Lego Blocks were climbed regardless.

* * *

Which brings us to Jerky.

The fact has been established that things around here are often not as they seem. It's no different with this boy. 

Gavin came running into the house one day back in July while Aidan was still at camp, saying he had a new friend. "His name is Jerky! He is 8 years old! He lives next to us and he can ride his bike with me on the street!"

I warned Gavin that "Jerky" was probably not the boy's real name. While he insisted it was, I told him to ask the boy again, just to make sure. At the end of the day when he came inside he again said the name was "Jerky", and I left it at that.

By the time I met "Jerky", "Jerky" was his official name among the boys. Aidan had arrived home from camp, and agreed that "Jerky" was now his friend, too.

When Jerky came striding into our house I had to ask what his name was. He said, "Cherokee. I'm part Indian. My one sister is Cheyenne and my other sister is Kiowa." This boy reminds me of Opie Taylor, but instead of the red hair he has a thick mop of dark brown hair. Try as I might to get the boys to say his name properly, some version of "Jerky" always comes out. Cherokee just shrugs his shoulders and says, "I don't mind if they call me 'Jerky'."

Boys will be boys, and one of their favorite play places is down by our creek. Rather, it was, until Gavin came in one afternoon saying that Jerky said it was sewer water. But then he told Gavin it was clean enough to drink, and both of them proved it by gulping water out of the stream. I ran to the file cabinet to find a copy of our abstract. Sure enough, "sewer easement" was added to the property description in 1974. (This is something else that was denied in the sellers disclosure.) Oh boys. Raising you is not for the faint of heart.

Cherokee always comes ready with a host of tall-tales. Our boys have never really been around anyone who stretched the truth without letting them know they were joking at some point. I can't count the number of times one of them has run in the house with some outlandish story. 

"Mom! Jerky said there are snakes all over the creek and they launch themselves out of holes and wrap themselves around helicopters! And king snakes can swallow people whole. One even ate a helicopter!" 

"MOM! Jerky said a wolf bit him and swallowed his shoulder blade and then he shot the wolf!"  

"Mom! Jerky shot a crossbow but he added gas and fire to it and it BLEW UP!" 

"Mom! Did you know there's a car inside that brown house? Jerky's Dad crashed his car into the house and the house fell down around the car so they just built the house back up around the car!" 

"Jerky said he drank gas and it tasted like juice!"

"Jerky said there are clowns headed to our town to kill people! He said we have to make sure we have a big stick or bats to protect us when they get here!"

"Guess what, Mom! There was a tornado here and it ripped the door off that brown house while Jerky was in it!"

"Mom, Jerky doesn't have an older sister anymore. He said she climbed up to our roof and jumped off and died." 

"Mom, Jerky said his mom told him if he was naughty she was going to lock him in the cage in our attic."

"Jerky said there's a bee called a ground bee that's huge and it stuck it's stinger all the way through a man!!!" 

I warned the boys that most of the things he said were probably just stories, (and some even deadly if they tried) but I could see the desire in their eyes to believe these crazy, movie-like phenomenons. Until the day Cherokee began telling another story about his sister--the supposedly dead one--and Aidan realized that something didn't add up. "Wait! You told me she died!"

"I was only teasing!"

"That's a horrible thing to joke about!"

On a few occasions I happened to be outside while a tale was being created, and with a raise of my eye-brows Cherokee gave up, "Haha! Got you guys!" The boys laugh and shake their heads now. I think they enjoy the stories whether they're real or not. 

Football vs. Jesus

Talking about beliefs has become quite the faux-pas. Or rather, it always has been. After all, all but one of the twelve apostles were martyred. It is cautioned not to talk about religion or politics in polite conversation. Feelings might get hurt. Someone might not talk to you anymore. Or, more commonly, you might get unfriended. Everyone has such thin skin anymore....

There was a quote that went viral from the "magician" Penn Jillette, who is a self-proclaimed atheist, but nevertheless rang true. (While I prefer to use quotes from those who share my beliefs, this illustrates how all humans were given reason to help lead them to the truth.) In a nutshell, he said if you truly believe what you do, and if you love me, why wouldn't you try to convert me? If you think your beliefs are true, if you think I'm going to go to hell for my way of life, why wouldn't you try to convince me to change my ways? "What could be more hateful than shutting up?"

Let me present you with a little perspective. There are football fans who faithfully watch every game their team plays. They scream and yell at their TVs, deck themselves out with a complete NFL-approved wardrobe, and spend hundreds if not thousands of dollars on gear, memorabilia, tickets. They have a subscription to NFL Magazine. Their walls are covered in team posters, prints, and jerseys. They fly their team's flag in their front yard and have decals and license plate covers on their vehicles. They engage in superstitious rituals to "help the team win" because "it's only weird if it doesn't work." They trash talk other teams and create memes belittling other players. These people are called "die-hard" fans, and it's ok because we all know one...or many...like this. It's so American, you might be considered a terrorist if you suggest they're off their rockers.

Now consider this. A person believes he was placed in this world for the sole purpose of knowing, loving, and serving God. Not to squeeze every enjoyment and pleasure out of life because it's so short, but because it is short, he works that much harder to be good and "go forth and teach all nations" as his God instructed. He donates hundreds if not thousands of dollars a year to his church. He prays morning and night and before every meal (even in public), and crosses himself even as he passes his church and the cemeteries where faithful are buried. He watches religious programs and movies on TV; he listens to recorded sermons. He has religious pictures on the walls of his home, and a flag with a cross flying in his front yard. He wears clothes with religious images on them. There's a rosary on his rear view mirror; his vehicle bears pro-life bumper stickers, and his plate cover is from a rosary crusade. This man never belittles anyone, but talks freely about his faith, and what sin is. Because of all this he is called hateful, judgmental, and a bigot. He's called self-righteous. His home is often victim to vandalism. People whisper about him and suggest he has a mental condition because he's such a religious nut; at least, he's out of touch with reality. Really, who wears a shirt with the image of the Sacred Heart on it?

Why is one socially acceptable and the other not? Truth often frightens people.

Someone I personally know called my wedding "extreme" because it was a Traditional Latin Nuptial Mass. I wonder, had it been a traditional Jewish wedding complete with kabbalat panim, chuppah, and breaking glass, would it still have been considered "extreme"? Or would that have been considered intolerant and anti-semitic? Such is the way the world is.

Many of those "anti-religious-demonstration" people are the same people pushing their beliefs onto society. They want things I believe are sinful to be protected by law and taught in every school. Though, if the proper logic is applied, many of those things oppose basic human rights. Hypocrisy is not a Christian condition, but a human condition.

Many Christians say things like, "Jesus loves everybody. He wants us all to be happy. You're not acting like Jesus when you condemn their lifestyle or choices. You're being hateful." I can only see these opinions as voluntary blindness, as the New Testament itself is full of Christ's condemnations of sin. Christ certainly didn't "let sinners be", but called them to amend their lives and "sin no more".

The truth is that we spend too much time worrying about what other people think of us. "I don't want people to see that I'm religious because they'll say that I'm too Catholic. They'll say that I'm a 'Jesus freak'. They'll say that I'm intolerant. They'll say that I'm a bigot. They'll say that I don't appreciate diversity. They'll call me close-minded. They'll call me too conservative. They'll call me a radical or an extremist. Maybe they just plain won't like me!"

You can call me any name you want. Unless I betray My Lord and say that everything's all right with everything, you're going to call me names anyway. If My Lord can be beaten, and carry the instrument of His death up a hill, and if My Lord can hang on the cross for three hours dying for my sins, and I can't stand here while our culture looks me in the face and calls me names for standing up for my Catholic Faith, then I don't deserve to be called "Catholic".

In years past I've become wrapped up in what feels like hundreds of "debates" regarding faith, mostly on social media. (It has proven for me to be a great way to exercise my "apologetics muscles".) Most recently it was with a Gnostic occultist who believed it was his right to receive Holy Communion in the Catholic Church. He said I was "as bad as a Muslim" by saying he could not, but in the end he changed his stance. This is a rarity, of course, as most people will cling firmly to their position when challenged, even when presented with loads of evidence to the contrary. I always come away from these conversations more convinced of the truth in my position, and confused that others can't see it as well.

In the past year or two I have greatly limited my time on social media and the "debates" that I choose to participate in. I mostly leave others controversial Facebook posts alone, even though they may be upsetting or get my heart racing with contrary arguments flying through my head. I've rethought my approach to these situations, having seen too many debates turn ugly, full of childish name-calling and base insults. I have been removed as a friend more times than I can count, though I have never called anyone names and have tried to keep my ends of discussions charitable.

I cannot be silent about my Faith and how I live it, but I've decided that the best way to preach is by example. I'm not going to go door-to-door to sell you my Faith (or page-to-page), but I will live my Faith openly and try to give the best example I can of it. And I will fail, as we all do, countless times. I will not put you down for your beliefs, but if confronted, I'm not going to say it's ok, that it's good that you fight for things that are sinful. There is absolute truth in this world, and that's what needs to be fought for. Not the false ideology that "everybody can choose their own reality." And I do so not from a "soapbox" because I think I'm better, not from hate, because I think you're a bad person, but from genuine care and concern. Because if I believe firmly in what I do, I then believe that sin is only harming you, and I hate sin. Love the sinner, hate the sin. I am a sinner, and it's because of some of the bad decisions I've made that I often feel unworthy of voicing my concerns.

"For those who believe, no explanation is necessary; for those who don't believe, no explanation will suffice." This quote has been attributed to no less than five different authors, among them St. Thomas Aquinas, Franz Werfel, and Joseph Dunninger. I know it best as one of my Dad's. In the end, people are going to believe what they want to. But maybe, just maybe, living the Faith openly and in the way it was meant to be, will show people that true Christians are not hateful, not spiteful, not close-minded, not power-driven, not money-hungry; but loving, compassionate, and concerned... even when they speak their minds.

Tiny Blessing

I've never been so happy to be sick and tired! Big brothers are all so excited, and I'm getting 100 questions a day about baby: "Mom, are you feeding baby right now? Mom, are you watering baby right now? Is it falling on his head? Mom, are you laying down because of the baby?"


Our newest blessing is due May 4th (yes, I have already heard "May the 4th be with you!"), but most likely will be born in late April via repeat c-section. No, we were not "trying for a girl". I expect this one is another boy, but we'll just have to wait and see. I'll be happy either way!

As I lay there watching the ultrasound screen this morning, I watched in awe as I saw little arms wave around. I saw the little flickering of baby's heartbeat. God is so good!

I have so many of my own plans and hopes and dreams, but God keeps showing me He is in control. I've feared I may never have another sweet baby. You can never know what's around the corner, but I take one day at a time... and keep working on my trust.

Out of the Mouths of...Boys

Over the years I've heard some pretty strange and often hilarious things uttered by my children. I started journaling these quotes a few years ago to keep me entertained when I hit my geriatric, senile years (if I make it that long, that is). I found some of these in old Facebook posts, in the actual journal I bought for them, and also in the Quick Notes app on my phone. I had no idea I had accumulated so many until I started adding them all here.

This is a sample of the wisdom of my children.

2012: "Mama, I can't get my toes in my teeth. Can you please cut my toenails?" Aidan, age 4. Serial nail-biter.

2012: "Don't move the TV, Aidan!"
Aidan: "Why not?"
Me: "It'll fall on you."
Aidan: "It'd make me a rectangle?"

2013: "Mom, do you see that noise in my brain? It sounds like a washing machine." Gavin, age 6.

2013: Liam, age 3: "Mom, can I pwease go outside and pway? I won't go on the road and get killed again!"

2014: Liam: "Is this the sound of my skeleton?" and cracks himself in the head with a wooden spoon.

2014: Aidan: "Dad, can I get a real golf ball please?"
Eli: "No, you guys can only use the plastic balls in the back yard."
Aidan: "But Dad! I can't get good flight with the plastic balls!" (Said the boy who broke a window the same year.)

2014: "Mom, something really weird happened. I was supposed to be born in Hawaii, and you were supposed to call me 'Bruce Wayne'. But you didn't, you called me 'Aidan' instead! So now you know." Age 7

2014: Aidan: "Mom, did I accidentally tell you you what I made you for Christmas?"
Me: "No, not that I know of."
Gavin: "What did you accidentally tell Mom?"
Aidan: "I almost told her I made her a snowflake for Christmas!"

2015: Liam, on discovering what was on the menu for lunch one day: "But I don't want that to go down my throat!"

2015: Liam, the first thing he said to me after he woke up: "Mom, I ate all my butatoes. Can I have a punkin bar now?
"Liam, you did not eat any potatoes."
Liam, "Oh. Do we have butatoes?"

2015: Liam (apparently still half asleep): " Last morning I had a dream and I had one mouth and thick hair. And Aidan said to me, 'Do you want to play soccer with me, Wiam?' and I said, '...*squeaky sound*' And I got a burrito and I spiked it."

2015: Me, "Gavin, guess what you are!"
Gavin: "...a treasure?"

2015: Liam, with a look of exasperation: "I just tasted frosting on the bathroom door!"
"Why would you be tasting the bathroom door, Liam?"
"Because...there's frosting on it?"

2015: Liam, "There are a lotta baby angels in heaven, wike a fousand, and they have a nest up there."

2015: "Why can't I walk to the Post Office naked? No naked allowed?" Liam, age 3 going on 4.

2015: "Mom, I always be careful when I fall." Gavin, age 6.

2015: Gavin, "You know, doors are quite helpful too. They cover your bodies when clothings are not on them."

2015: Gavin, "Mom, are you retired?"

2015: Liam, "But I'm not a pipsqueak, Dad! I don't stink!"

2015: Liam, "Mom, Dad just shot a rumpit!"

2015: Liam: "Mom, I didn't get out of the van!"
Gavin: "Thank you, Captain Obvious."
Liam: "Captain Obvious is NOT in the van!"

2015: "Mom, I accidentally peed on the floor. I fought it was the park." Liam, age 3.

2015: " 'Maybe' is like a surprise cheeseburger. You never know what you're going to get inside." Aidan, age 8 (who has never seen Forest Gump).

2015: "Aidan, come look! Mom's making corn! No, real corn! The stuff that comes off a real cob!" Gavin age 6.

2015: "I finally got my brain to stop talking to me in Dan Wardell's voice. Man was that annoying." Aidan

2015: "Hey guys, let's play school!"
"Hey Aidan, did you finish your grammar?"
"ERRRGGGH! No!"

2015: Aidan, while watching Wheel of Fortune: "Prancing Spanish Fairies!!! I got the puzzle, Dad!"
Eli: "No, Aidan, it's 'Practicing Spanish Phrases'."

2015: Gavin: "Mom, can you get the toothpaste down for me please?"
"Why can't you get it, Gavin?"
"Because I'd have to stand on the toilet lid and I want to go to heaven."

2015: Liam, "I fink I have the bubble fever. Have you never heard of that before? When I was playing with the Baby Jesus I jumped on the couch like dis..." (*demonstrates*) "...and I cracked my ankle, broke the bone, it was all out of order."

2015: Aidan: "Mom, why does Dad want to wear an ugly sweater for Christmas?"
"Because he thinks it's funny. I got one to wear, too."
Aidan: "UGH! But why?"
"Because that's true love. Solidarity, man."
Aidan: "Do you mind if I look nice for Christmas?"

2015: Liam: "Mom! Mom! Come quick! Ian's foot is in the wrong area! No really! His foot is coming out his other foot! Mom! What's so funny? Ian needs help! I need you to stop laughing! Oh never mind. Everyfing is in order now."

2015: Liam, "Dad, do I look like a girl?"
"No bud, why would you say that?"
"Because I'm wearing a red sweater."

2015: Aidan, "Mom, childhood is kinda boring."

2015: Aidan, "I had a dream last night, Mom. You dressed up as a velociraptor and you were rocking in a chair and knitting. The other velociraptor thought that you were a real velociraptor but he didn't know velociraptors could knit. Then he went and killed that other guy who wasn't Dad."

2016: "Mom, will you hope I don't fall apart when I become a Lego?" Liam, age 4.

2016: "No, Liam, you cannot have candy."
"But Mom! Candy is in my prophecy!"

2016: "Quit running in circles around the table!"
Liam: "Ok, Mom, I'll just run in rectangles!"

2016: Liam: "Mom, I think porkypines chew off their quills to poke eagles. I think they poke eagles in their wings. Haw haw huHAW huHAW--(eagle noises)--Mom, are dodos estinct forever? Forever and ever?"

2016: Liam, eating a hard-boiled egg: "Guys, pretend I'm a crow and I'm eating a baby robin."

2016: Liam: "Mom, when you smack a crocodile will it roar like a lion? Are a crocodile's teeth like a lion's teeth? Mom, is Jojo like a black lion? Will lions eat dogs? Will they run away? Do they have babies? Lots of babies?"

2016: Liam: "Never throw washcloths at our company, ok Mom?"

2016: "Baby delivery!" Gavin proclaimed.

2016: Gavin: "Mom, when you met Dad were you looking at him and ogling at him? Were you nervous? Was he a stranger? And you still talked to him? Were you small back then?"

2016: Liam. Right before bed: "But my throat is so thirsty and wrinkly!"

2016: Liam: "Ian, have you not seen this show for 87 years?!"

2016: Liam: "Mom, when I be mean to somebody will my heart be bad? Will it be bad forever?"

2016: Liam: "Mom, I'm never going to let you die."

2016: "Liam, where are you going with the apple juice?"
Liam: "I'm thirsty. It's ok, Mom. You can just sit down and rest. I got it."

2016: Liam: "Mom, I don't want to be old. Will Dad be old someday? Does it take forever to get old? Mom, someday I hope to be as tall as Aidan and Gavin and you and Dad. But I won't be as tall as a human? Is Dad taller than you? Dad's taller than a bowling ball. Dad's taller than soap. Dad's taller than a bird nest and paper and a bottle of water and a remote. Dad's taller than an elephant. God is with Dad because boys go with boys?" This was just part of a litany of "things Dad is taller than" that lasted for over 10 minutes.

2016: "Aidan, haste makes waste."
Aidan: "I know. *sigh* I hate paste."

2016: After picking up some fast food for the boys, Liam was acting up. When he asked what I had ordered him I gave him a hard time and said, "Nothing. You got a big bag full of air."
Liam sighed and said in a resigned tone, "What's the air look like?"

2016: Liam: "Who ate all the noodles? Aw, I was going to eat the rest of them! Ian crossed a line."

2016: Gavin, while sitting in a parking lot, parked, with the vehicle off: "Mom, I'm just going to hang on to the seat like this in case you take a sharp turn. Ok, Mom?"

2016, a debate among the three oldest:
Gavin: "Unicorns fly!"
Liam: "No, they don't!"
Aidan: "No, they can't fly, they don't have wings."
Gavin: "Yes they do!"
Aidan:"Well, they don't exist, so they can't fly."
Gavin: "Mom! Do unicorns fly?"
Liam: "Unicorns have rainbow horns and that's dangerous."
Gavin: "Anyways, why are we talking about this? Unicorns are stupid."

2016: Aidan, doing his math (how he reminds himself to borrow, and...motivates himself?):
"4 went up against 6 but was too weak. So he got 3 to help. 3 was too weak too so he went to 9. 9 came along and was strong enough for them all. So 4 became 14 and took out 6, and 3 became 12 and took out 8, and 9, who turned into 8, finished out the fight by taking out 2. After the fight they had 448 strength left. The subtraction team went out to look for more suspects. "Hey 9!"..."Hey, Bud!"..."Where are the rest of the suspects?"..."They are in the answer key, but it's in the forbidden land and we are banned from it." "Let's settle this fight ourselves."..."Ah..ugh..oofAAAH! psshk...thunk."

2016: Gavin, after getting McDonald's: "I don't know what this is, but I'M LOVING IT!"

2016: "Aidan, do you know why words are in parentheses?"
Aidan: "Yeah, it means those are words you don't have to read."

2016, Liam: "Mom, you know how you make sugar? You get some shoog. Then you put in some ar. That's an R. And you have sugar! Do ducks swim?"
"Yes, ducks swim."
"In coffee?"

2016: Aidan: "This couch smells like beauty."

2016: "Liam, do you want juice or milk?
"I pollute milk."
"Do you mean 'chose'?"
"Yeah. Mom, are you glad I choosed milk? Mom, milk is Italian."
"No, milk comes from cows."
"Yeah, from their udders. Mom, don't say udders."

A Day Out With Thomas

Once a year the Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad hosts a Day Out With Thomas. Gavin has been wanting to visit Thomas the Train for several years now, and for a long time has wanted to be a "train driver". Year after year we've put it off for different reasons, but this year we made it work. Gavin's fascination with trains has proven not to be a passing thing and I knew he'd be in a real live dreamland at the railroad. It also gave the other boys the chance to ride on a train for the first time.

Pulling into the parking lot, there were trains everywhere. Gavin could hardly contain his excitement.

We were given maps at the ticket booth and instructed to get them stamped as we hit certain checkpoints, or "stamp stations". We could turn them in before we left for a prize. (This was a sly way of guaranteeing people didn't miss anything.)

Some were more excited than others to be here....

Inside the gift shop there were all sorts of exciting things to see. Ian loved the train that chugged it's way around the two front rooms' upper walls.

We got to see Thomas pulling out of the station!

There was a tent set up full of everything Thomas. It was definitely a Thomas fanatic's dream, though unsuspecting parents were caught in the predicament of either buying outrageously priced things--no clearance aisle in sight--or disappointing little eager shoppers. (Oddly enough, they made it a "stamp station".)

Ian turned out to be more of a Thomas enthusiast than I previously thought he was. I worried he'd be the child who screamed at meeting Sir Topham Hatt, who threw a fit about getting on the train, and all manner of other issues. He did the best that a tired two-year-old could do.

I was seriously having an "off" day; I forgot the stroller, I forgot Ian's shoes, I forgot to pack sandwiches for the trip. And everyone lived! Ian got to enjoy shoulder rides from Mom and Dad in lieu of a stroller. I wouldn't say it out loud but I think it worked out for the best that way.

Sir Topham Hatt and Thomas were out by the time we got to this end of the yard, so we headed back to the museum for storytelling and videos. Thomas left the station each hour at the top of the hour and we had 30 minutes to kill.

Ian couldn't hold still through the story so we took a walk through the museum. He wanted to take this train set home with us. It wouldn't budge, however.

We then got in line to meet Sir Topham Hatt. I was a little concerned about Liam meeting him. The day before he was in a bad mood and said he didn't want to go see Thomas at all, and he would only see Sir Topham Hatt if he could punch him. I'm not sure what inspired that reaction, but I made him promise he wouldn't be mean to anyone.

The boys didn't really know what to do when it was their turn; Sir Topham Hatt wasn't talking, his faced remained expressionless. I was afraid they were all going to take off running (and they wouldn't have been the first kids to do that, as we witnessed while standing there.) I talked them into high-fives.

Ian did the best, surprisingly. He almost flew out of my arms trying to give Sir Topham Hatt a high-five. Aidan remained disturbed by the encounter.

I think Sir Topham Hatt had his eye on the hot dog stand?

It was time to board Thomas!

We got our tickets punched...

And climbed aboard...

We made sure to head forward to the second coach so that we were riding on Clarabel. Details matter. :) These coaches were old, and had a definite funk about them.

Ian was all over the place. His seat was empty most of the ride.

A "shunting diesel" (Gavin informed us) pulled us a few miles out into the country, and then Thomas pulled us back into the station. The ride took about 25 minutes.

We waited in line after the ride to have pictures taken with Thomas. Thomas' face moved from an open-mouthed smile to a close-mouthed smile, but Gavin was disappointed that Thomas never talked.

Gavin asked if we were coming back tomorrow!