Prediction

Well, I guess we officially have the flu here.

After pretty much just getting a mild version for the past two months of just colds and one day fevers, half of the kids are sick, the other half bound to get it soon.

No vomiting, just fevers and tummy aches and sore throats. Lucy's fever was up to 102.2 and Anna was up to 102. Funny thing is, I had no idea that she was even sick when I took the picture. She never indicated that she wasn't feeling well; I figured that she just wanted to be like Lucy and look sick like her. (She did a pretty good job.)

Max had a small fever of 99.7. So far, Luke seems to be fine and so does Henry.

Lucy took a four hour nap. She hasn't taken a nap since she was three.

I have a prediction.

Dennis is supposed to go on an overnight fishing trip with his Dad on Monday; I predict that on Monday I will be sick too. Not because I want to be, but just because that would be just my luck.

We shall see, won't we?

Christmas pictures

Our Christmas picture. Now you know why you didn't get any Christmas cards from us. 

Luke explaining to Anna that Santa Claus is trapped inside the sun room.

Opening presents!

I gave Max my old video camera. He's been asking for one for months.

Mrs. Potato Head! Finally, a companion for Mr.Potato Head!

A puzzle! Luke loves to put puzzles together.

"Santa brought me a Dora ball!" (Luke popped the other one.)

A Hello Kitty water dispenser! Now when Lucy gets thirsty at night, she can get her own water!

A Scooby Doo DVD!

I'm happy with my two toys, thank you. 

Babies are so easy to please. Most of the time.

Later, after Mass I suggest: "Hey, let's get a picture of the kids by the Blessed Virgin Statue in the garden."

Dennis: "Good idea."

Ahem, notice anyone missing???

The Blessed Virgin statue is right behind Dennis and the kids. Oops.

....like the Blessed Virgin statue????

We are good Catholics. I promise.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to everyone and remembering Sandy Hook heroes today

Not the best picture, sorry!

Merry Christmas to my family, near and far, and to those who read our family blog, lurkers and commenters alike. :-) Our thoughts and prayers are especially with those who have lost their children recently. In fact. yesterday for our Sunday school, we cut out candles for each victim that died in the tragic shootings a week and a half ago. It's hard to see in the picture because the sun  insisted on shining even though the blinds were pulled--but now our paper candles kind of light up, don't they?

 I went through the victims names on a website that tells a little something of each victim that died, and I put this on each candle, along with the names and ages of each child and teacher that died. I tried to find the link where I got this information, but now I can't find it.

Two candles are very special to me:

Little Dylan was a special needs student, and Anne Marie Murphy was his special ed teacher. They were both shot dead; Anne Marie Murphy's body was found holding little Dylan. His parents said, "We find great comfort knowing that Dylan didn't die alone."

Do you know how much this comforts me, as a mother of a special needs student? I know, I'm not supposed to be thinking of me, me, me, during this time. But when I read that Dylan died, that he had autism, and the fear and confusion that he must have been feeling, it really struck me in the heart and Max instantly flew into my mind. Remembering Max's words when he had to practice the Intruder Alert drill: "I didn't know what was going on, everyone was hiding and I couldn't find a place to hide."

But the next person that I came across was his special ed teacher, and how she tried to protect him. They both died, but they died at least, holding one another. 

Every candle that I tacked to the wall, I read the child/teacher's name with a little story about them. As the kids (my kids) began to watch the row of candles grow longer and longer, and every name and story they heard, they began to become more and more somber.

This little boy was a hero; he died by trying to lead his friends to safety.

This teacher's body was found shielding the children.

 I don't like having to expose my children to the world--because they are seeing more and more that there is evil. I don't like telling them stories of children getting killed, and I don't like to see their innocence being taken away.

But I decided to do this because the fact is, there is evil in this world. This is the world that they're growing up in. If I have to introduce them to it, then I might as well prepare them for it. But not with anger or vengeance, with prayer. We said a Hail Mary for each victim. I thought Luke was going to pass out from it all.

There was one more candle I wanted to put up. 

Adam and his brother Ryan Lonza. Lucy asked why Adam, who was the killer of these people, got to be right next to Jesus. 

I told her it's because Adam needs the most mercy. 

And who are we to judge, no matter how terrible the evil? 

I pray for Adam because he is still a soul that Jesus died for, knowing full well what Adam would do. But He died for him anyway. Only God knows the capability of Adam's understanding and intent; we don't know what passed between him and God before he died. 

And we pray for Adam's brother Ryan, who is being persecuted daily for what his brother did. I read an article of which he plead, "Please don't call my brother names. He's dead, and I love him."

The kids looked really sad for Adam and Ryan, probably more sad than for the other victims. I had told them that the victims were most likely all in heaven, but for Adam, we don't know where he is. So the kids prayed a Hail Mary for him too, and as Max prayed, he held his arms out in a cross--he only does this when he wants to pray really, really hard. 

We're having a merry Christmas today, despite the sad tragedies, and we're remembering those who are grieving today. We're celebrating being together, looking forward to opening gifts, and celebrate the joy of Christmas. Because we remember that God is bigger than anything.

Max and the fire drill

A little bit of randomness to make up for my depressing last post....


When the students at the kids school practiced the "red drill" (intruder alert), it really freaked out Max, because for one thing, he had never experienced a drill like that, and for another, he couldnt' find a place to hide and didn't know what to do. After that, I talked to his special ed teacher to tell her that Max needs to be warned in advance of a drill, and needs to be told that it's just for practice and what he needs to do. So they agreed to do this from now on.

So one day, they were going to do a fire drill and as promised, the special ed teacher warned Max about it beforehand. Later that day, at supper, Max said, "Guess what? Today I talked in class." (This is a rare thing and we always celebrate it when Max talks out loud in class, as he never talks.) "Really?" I said, excited, "what did you say?"
"I told someone that we were going to have a fire drill. And then, everyone began to say to each other, 'Max just said we're going to have a fire drill today!'"
"What did your teacher say?" I asked, as I began to wonder if Max had let the cat out of the bag.
"She said in a real excited way, 'Really Max? We're going to have a fire drill?' And then she began to laugh."
I didn't think too much of it, because when I was a kid, we were always warned when we would have a fire drill. It was that way for me all the way to high school. I was just happy that Max talked in class.

A few weeks later at Max's IEP meeting, the teachers were going through all of the accommodations that were being made to meet Max's academic and social goals, and Ashley (his special ed teacher) mentioned that they would also make sure to continue to warn Max ahead of time before any sort of drills. And then she stopped and laughed and said, "Well, maybe instead of telling Max the day before I will tell him a few minutes before the drill. The last time we had a fire drill, he told the entire school that we were going to have a fire drill and it kind of ruined the drill."

"He told the entire school???" I asked, "I thought it was just his class!"

It turned out that Max did start with his class; he mentioned it to one student, who then mentioned it to another, and pretty soon the entire class knew. But then throughout the rest of the day, as the kids mingled in the lunchroom and recess, the news of the fire drill spread through out the school and pretty soon kids were asking their teachers if it was true they would be having a fire drill soon--and the teachers who didn't know that Max let the cat out of the bag were very confused how they found out.

Luckily, the entire group that was at the IEP meeting was chuckling about it, including the Principal, so they didn't seem to be too annoyed with Max about it, and Ashely took full responsibility of the mishap.

The point is, if you have a secret that you don't want to be known, don't tell Max.

Tragic Day

What a sad day this has been.

I don't think I have been this sad since 9/11. The tragety of so many innocent children being killed, in an environment that is supposed to be safe--school. And an elementary school, at that. It made me think, "this is another reason why I wish we could home school!" I know you can't keep your kids in a bubble, but it's no longer considered to be unusual to hear of a school shooting. A mass shooting seems to happen once every few months lately.

But to hear of little children dying, well, I won't get into it. There is no point in making yourself sick with the sad thoughts of how terrified they must have been. My thoughts are with the parents tonight, who lost their children, who are looking at the empty beds their kids would sleep in.

You would think that this tragedy would make me more loving to my own kids. But when they got home, I was tense and edgy from the hearing the news all morning. Even when I wasn't listening to the news, you would hear it from someone else. Henry hadn't napped all day, which makes me tense and crabby anyway, but with this on top of it, I wasn't really fit to be around. I just wanted to get out.

We got an email from the kids school about the shooting. I thought it was going to be all about reassuring the parents that their school continues to be a safe place to be, but instead, it was all about how we should reassure our kids. I thought this was very strange. I didn't feel like I needed to be counseled on how to comfort my kids, and I doubt that any other parent needed that help. Hearing of a mass murder of innocent children instantly brings out the maternal and protective instinct in parents anyway. What I wanted was to be reassured--I wanted to know what the school does to protect our kids. I wanted to hear about security systems and drills and of security guards, metal detectors, whatever. But all it said at the end of the email was, "We continue to make sure our school is safe for the children."

I didn't say anything about the shooting to the kids when they got home. I wasn't sure if I was going to, and if I did decide to tell them, I wanted to tell them in a way that wouldn't scare them so much that they would be afraid to go to school again. My kids get scared very easily. But instead, Lucy told me all about it. "Did you know that a bunch of kids got killed today? There were 27 of them, and they all died!" She told me this while laughing, which I thought was very unLucy-like. But then I thought that maybe she didn't completely understand the gravity of the situation, which might have been a blessing.

Later tonight, after the kids were in bed, I heard Lucy crying in her room. When I went to check on her, she was sobbing, saying how she was afraid she would get shot down at school. She was also crying for all the children. So she did understand the gravity of the situation; laughing was her way of coping with it.

What I didn't like was that the teacher told Lucy (and her class) all about the shooting. I wish she had left that to the parents to tell. It's one thing to enforce why it's important to follow the red drill (intruder drill) for reasons like what happened today, but she went into too much detail. Every time I tried to comfort Lucy, she would come up with another reason why she was afraid. When I told her that Lucy's school was locked all the time, Lucy said, "My teacher said that the intruder can still break down the door." When I told her that her school is very safe and probably couldn't break down the door, she said, "My teacher said that they can still break through the windows or come through the roof." No matter what I said, the teacher topped me somehow. I was getting pretty annoyed with that teacher.

Lucy wanted to sleep with the lights on, but that wouldn't work with Anna, who is a night-owl anyway, and needs a dark room. We were going to leave the door open a crack, but Anna tends to be pretty noisy at night and we didn't want her to wake up Henry. Suddenly, I got an idea. I went in the closet and pulled out a birthday present that I was planning to give to Lucy for her birthday next week. It was a Dream-lite, which is a pillow pet that lights up the ceiling with stars. I gave it to Lucy, and she instantly cheered up and was finally able to go to sleep.

I had gone to Adoration earlier--this was my escape. I needed this time, because like so many others, on my mind were questions, like "why??" Why innocent children? This world seems to be in agreement over one thing for once--today's act was an act of evil.

I was having a lot of questions for God. One thing I did know was that I still believed--but what bothered me was I was having a hard time seeing His love and Mercy. Earlier in the day, I was trying to gather some sense of peace and went to the Bible to read the psalms. I thought a psalm for times of distress would help me cope somehow through my sorrows, but every time I turned a page, I only found psalms praising God for His goodness. I didn't want to read those, and then suddenly I knew why: I was doubting God's goodness.

I don't have the psalms in front of me right now, but I did read them, and I was comforted. The psalms talked about how God uplifts the faithful and casts out the wicked; it talked about little things, like grass on the mountains and the warm rays of the sun on earth. My sadness was not cast out, but my doubts began to fade away, as I remembered that of course God is good. It's the world that is evil.

My prayers are for the families tonight, that this terribly tragedy won't break the faith of those who believe--but rather, that they will only increase in faith, and lean on God as He leads them through it.

Busy, Busy

I've been really busy working on orders for a few weeks now, which is why I'm not updating much. The picture above is an order for a convent of 24 one decade rosaries. Each color is custom ordered. When the customer ordered this, she had said she needed it as a Christmas present for the nuns who worked at her husbands school--however, she didn't tell me that she needed it for a Christmas party on the 15th. So basically my time got cut in half.

On top of that, I had orders coming in daily. One or two a day, nothing more, but it was difficult to keep up with that plus this huge order. I even had to shut down my shop for a few days so that I could catch up.

Then this thing with Dominic has been a big distraction. People on Facebook are wanting updates or ask questions--I refer them to Dominic's blog, but I've also been keeping updates on my other blog, Roses for Mary. The blogging and rosary making have been taking up all my time.

Dennis has been good about watching the kids a little extra during the day so that I can get in extra rosary work in, but it's been wearing on the entire family. I go to bed exhausted and it's stressful to hear the kids whining for me. I try to take breaks to help out Dennis and play with the kid, but then I remember all the orders that I have to do, so I get anxious to get back to work again. I'll be happy once Christmas is done, so that the orders slow down a bit. I never thought I would say that!

I had a cardiology appt today to get my yearly Echo done on my heart. It's all just routine, nothing is going on. I have had some interesting arythmias and so I'm wearing a heart monitor to record the "events". But of course, nothing is going on right now. I almost feel like holding my breath and passing out just so that I can record an event and not look like I'm lying. Just kidding, I won't actually do that.

Watching my heart on the Echo is always very interesting. It's really weird to see a portion of your heart not pumping. The technician showed me where the heart attack affected the heart--which is the upper area of the heart. The rest of the heart compensates for the part that is "dead", which is why I get tired more easily. I've been used to myself getting tired more easily than I used to, but every time I see my heart like that and not pumping, it hits me all over again, how real the heart attack was. Sometimes it seems like it's not real.

Okay, I better get back to the grindstone, but I thought I would just check in!

The irritating practicality of MEN!

So, you men may not want to read this post. Because I am very irritated with men.

We've had a problem with low water pressure for about a week now, and every day, the shower gave less and less pressure to the point where it wasn't worth taking a shower anymore. And then the faucet in the tub began to lose water pressure, to the point where it was only a trickle. We did our best to give the kids baths as long as we could, but by the time we got the tub halfway filled, the water had already turned cold. After that, it was washing hair at the sink and taking sponge baths. Through all this, Dennis was trying to figure out what was wrong, but decided a plumber should look into it, since plumbing doesn't seem to be an area he knows a lot about. Problem is, plumbers cost a lot of money.

I admit, practicality has it's moments. Dennis hooked the hose up to the sink downstairs...

...into the bathtub. The kids kept throwing the hose around, but you can't have everything.

Here is where I'm a little irritated.

We decided to use Roto Rooster, because they take credit cards and other plumbers don't. (Greedy little vipers.) I was told that they would be coming today around 9 to just look at the problem and give an estimate. So I thought that I could sneak in a quick nap for Henry, who usually naps about 9. I knew it wouldn't be much of a nap, so at 8:30 I tried to put him down early. Lucky for me, he did fall asleep. Unlucky for me, the plumber showed up at 8:45.

So I tried to keep calm and not worry about it, because he was there only to assess the situation. Or so I thought. Pretty soon, he was shouting from the bathroom to Dennis about what was going on, and pounding on the fixtures to get them open. He was doing this, even after being told that we had a baby sleeping across the hall and to please keep the door closed.

I realize that the plumbing is pretty important. I know that as usual, I worry too much over naps. I realize that practicality wins-again. But I can't help thinking--a promise was broken. He wasn't supposed to be here to fix the problem, he was here to assess the situation so that I could plan out Henry's naps another way. But Dennis and the plumber decided to go ahead and fix it anyway.

The irritating practicality of men.

So I've been hiding out in my room, because I don't trust myself to be nice to either man right now.

To back up my point, let me tell you this somewhat humorous story that happened last year when Dennis went ice fishing. I think I may have already told this story in my old, old blog, but I'll tell it again--just to lighten up the mood.

Dennis took the boys ice fishing last year--Luke and Max. Luke was 4, and Max was about 7, almost 8. This was supposed to be their first overnight fishing experience and I couldn't find any reason why they shouldn't go. But I begged Dennis to make sure the boys got to bed at a reasonable hour. I knew it wouldn't be the regular beditme hour, but at least not at 10:00.

So at 9:00, I decided to call Dennis to see if he got the boys to bed yet. He hadn't yet, but was getting to it and was about to turn off the lights. While on the phone, this man interrupted our phone conversation by knocking on the ice house door. Dennis told me to hold on and put the phone in his pocket because he thought it was the DNR, as they sometimes stop by fish houses to make sure everyone's following the rules. It turned out to be just another fisher man, stopping by to say hello.

So I'm sitting there waiting, on the phone, in Dennis's pocket, while Dennis and the stranger is sitting there chatting away. I was getting increasingly irritated, first with feeling forgotten, but then, as the minutes grew, I realized that this man was overstaying his intrusion and making it impossible to get the boys to bed, who were politely sitting there listening. Then, to increase my annoyance, I heard this man swearing every other word. Mama Bear was getting pretty angry, knowing that this man was totally disregarding the kids innocence in just assuming it was okay to talk in that way in front of them, and I couldn't hold myself back any longer. In the phone I yelled, "HEY! STOP SWEARING! THERE'S KIDS LISTENING TO YOU!!"

Suddenly, there was silence, and then a very embarrassed, "Oh. Sorry."  I was a little embarrassed myself, and quickly hung up. I had wanted him to hear me, and yet was sorry that he did.

And so, sometimes I just don't feel kindly towards men and their practicality. They will never think like a mother, I know, and I, will never think like a man.

And now, I would like to head off to the gym so I dont' go crazy listening to this man pounding on our pipes, but I can't. Because Roto-Rooster has me blocked in.

Don't stare, look.

This was written the day after Thanksgiving, but wasn't posted until today.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and Anna's birthday too. She turned a sassy three years old yesterday. Yep, she's getting a little sassy. It doesn't help that she doesn't talk yet, because it gives her more reason to whine and scream--which is getting to be a regular thing lately. (By the way, pictures will be coming in the next post--my computer is out of web space won't let me load any more until I clean it out.)

But staying on the positive, we met Dominic for the first time, and that was a treat. We have been talking about Dominic around here since Mark and Mary named him, when he was still in the womb, and they thought he wasn't going to live.


So far, Dominic has proved us wrong! He's five months old and thriving! I loved looking at his little hands and feet, and his sweet face.

Yes, his face has some deformities, and honestly, I was nervous about the kids seeing him for the first time. They are not good about things that are "different", although I really don't know why. It's not like we try to keep our kids in a cage or something. We do let them out once in a while. Sometimes I hear the kids talking about a kid from school, trying to describe them, saying, "He/She has yellow hair, a white face like ours...." A face like ours--like everyone is supposed to be white. I suppose that comes from living in a mostly white neighborhood.

And then there was the time when Max took off screaming at Sarah's benefit dinner, because she was bald from the chemo. She was "different"; she wasn't supposed to be bald. All women are "supposed' to have long hair. This is coming from the perspective of a child with autism; and I'm afraid that the younger children have adopted this philosophy as well, even though we have had countless talks about how everyone is different.

And so I had plenty of reason to be nervous about the kids seeing Dominic for the first time. I had prepared them as best I could with showing them pictures of Dominic, watching videos, showing them how he is a not just a typical baby, but very special in the eyes of God. I told them how when God gives a child a handicap, He also gives them a few extra gifts as well--gifts that most typical people don't have. I then told them, "So get all your questions out now--I don't want you guys asking Uncle Mark and Aunt Mary all sorts of things about Dominic's "bubble" because it might hurt their feelings." They didn't have any questions at the time. But they had a lot of sympathy for Dominic to which Lucy loudly lamented when she first met him, " Poor Dominic! How will he ever be able to pick his nose?!"

Ah, but they loved Dominic because they love babies! I had to constantly tell Luke to stay out of Dominic's bubble, which is the term his therapists use to let Luke know he's in someone's personal space. But every time I told him to stay out of Dominic's bubble, he'd say, "I'm not touching his bubble!"

Don't you just love how kids force us to see the disability, the deformities, while we politely try to ignore it? And yet, kids don't see it as a problem, they see it as different. Like God's personal bookmark--this child is special. This child is different.

And yet, I was painfully aware that feelings could be hurt; I could see the special love and protectiveness his family has surrounding him, from the words, from the stares. Unfortunately, no one can stop people from staring--Dominic is different. He has a facial deformity and he looks different. It's the reality, and people will stare--even if they shouldn't.

Today I went to the library with the kids and we passed by a teenage girl who was obviously "different". She could only shuffle, and her mother (assuming it was her mother) had to support her by the arms. We passed by, and me, not wanting to stare, looked away, but not before I caught the look on the mother's face. The expression that she had on her face was not hardened by years of hurt, but full of wisdom. Her face said, "Yes, my child is different. Yes, she has handicaps, and I know you are trying not to stare. It's okay though, because we love her and accept her as she is." She looked peaceful, and I was not quick enough to look away before she caught me staring at her, and she smiled. I smiled back.

As I was putting Henry to sleep today, my mind went back to the girl and her mother. I thought back to all the parents of handicapped children that we had seen in various places--the store, the pool, the beach, at church, and so on, and I began to see the faces of the parents who held the same expression as the lady I had passed by at the library--peaceful. I have passed by a multitude of parents of typical children at Target over the years and I can't remember seeing the same look of peace on their faces. It's like these  parents of disabled children have gained something that we don't have. Like they have been transformed, changed, softened. I had a picture in my mind of a rock that had been made smooth by many years of dripping rain--to me, this is a picture of a converted heart.

I was about to lay Henry down in his crib, now sleeping, when I remembered one more thing. I couldn't remember what this disabled girl looked like. I couldn't remember her, because I wasn't staring at her--I was staring at her mother. The girl had drawn my attention, but what compelled me to "stare" was the mother. Her expression on her face, so calm, so humbled, not angry, not bitter. I only remembered her and I remembered her smile.

In fact, all those parents of disabled children were the ones I ended up staring at--probably with the same question in my eyes that they have seen so many times before: "How do you do it? Isn't it hard? Doesn't it break your heart that your child will never be 'normal'"? And they answer me back, "It's a blessing, it's changed me, and I wouldn't change my child for all the 'normal' children in the world."

So all you parents with children with disabilities, deformities or whatever; next time a strangers stares, consider what they will end up really looking at--you. They are watching you the same as I was watching when I saw Mark kissing the top of Dominic's head over and over, how I watched Bernadette toting him with her everywhere she went, how my children couldn't get enough of Dominic, because they could see the child, not the bubble. What causes us to really stop and stare is not the abnormalties, it's the unconditional love and true acceptance of what is "different".

My Birthday Prayer

Dear Jesus, I thank You for my life; 

I thank You for all 38 years. I dread each coming year more and more, as I see new gray hairs and new wrinkles come with it. But when I look back over the 38 years, I see how many blessings you have given me, how many trials You have pulled me through, how many prayers You have heard and answered, how much joy You have granted me and how many crosses You've given me for holiness, and I am thankful. 

Thank You for my children, all five, noisy, smelly, crazy children, who sometimes pull out my already too thin hair (Henry), who teases endlessly (Luke), who sometimes is too sensitive (Lucy), who can be too rigid and bossy (Max), and who is going through the terrible three's. (No need to insert a name here, Lord.)
I thank You for their enthusiasm for life, who have reminded the reason to celebrate--another year to live and thrive, another year to grow and mature, another year to spend with them, and another year to try to make it for heaven. 

Thank You for my husband, who sometimes can be really insensitive, who says the worst things at the worst times, who jokes when he should be silent, who talks when he should be silent, and talks when he should be silent.  And more seriously Lord, I thank You for choosing me someone who is more humbler than me, who has taught me without preaching, to be grateful for what we have, and even for what we don't have. Who has reminded me to be humble, when I'm acting arrogant, to not speak behind people's backs and to be charitable, and has showed me that even though he struggles with his faith sometimes (as we all do, Lord,) that he gives his 100% effort in his prayers anyway. He's an example of perseverance. I thank You, that even though he originally said that he only wanted two children, Lord, that You gave him five instead. That was funny, Lord. He now says that even though the kids cost a lot of money and sometimes a lot of stress, and our house is too small for a big family, that he wouldn't trade in his kids for all the money in the world. Thanks for showing us that You knew better, Lord.

Thank You for my Mom and Dad. Thank You for giving me two parents who stayed together through the thick and thin; thank You for giving us memories of laughter and memories of the times of sorrow when You upheld us through it. Thank You for leaving my Mom on earth just a little bit (or a lot) longer; and I thank You for my Dad in heaven, who is not any farther away from us than he was on earth.

I thank You for my siblings, who are now my friends. I thank You for Jerry, Mary, Andy, and Mark, who drove me crazy, made me cry, made me laugh, played with me, shared with me and took away from me. I thank You for fighting with them, and standing up for them. I thank You for a big family. I thank You for their mates, who once were strangers are now family. We all fit together like an smelly shoe, Lord.

I thank You for my in-laws, who are quiet and kind, who are always giving something even when we don't need it. (We always end up using it, Lord.) I thank You for Jeff and for Gracie. I thank You for all the aunts and all of their friends and uncles. I thank You for their close-knit family, who are always sharing together. It's nice to see a family that has so much love.

I thank You for all my blessings, I thank You for giving us just what we need and not a smidgit more. I thank You for not always saying "yes" to what I wanted. Sometimes I find out later that what I thought I wanted, wasn't good for me, Lord. 

I thank You for my crosses. Sometimes I throw them on the ground and refuse to carry it. I thank You for waiting for me patiently while I cry, only to come back to You again.
I thank You for the times when I've fallen; I thank You for the grace to be humble and be contrite. I thank You for the sufferings You give me to make me holy. 

I thank You for my faith. I thank You for giving me parents that cared enough to make sure that I understood it. They drilled that catechism into my head every Sunday until it hurt, Lord. And truth is, I didn't always understand. But you filled in the gaps along the way, Lord.

And now I ask for my birthday present, that You give someone else who already has the gift of life, the gift of a birthday celebrated too. I pray that a baby be saved from an abortion, I pray that the baby who is already living inside their mother's womb, may be able to celebrate a birthday too.

For all the blessings, miracles, prayers, sufferings, crosses in my life, please let a baby celebrate a birthday.

Amen.

Apraxia

So yesterday we learned that Anna has a diagnosis of apraxia. This is exactly what Max had when he was her age. Other than the apraxia, though, nothing else seems to be wrong as far as developmental delays go.

So basically, she has all the words that she wants to say in her head--she isn't lacking in speech at all, like we had previously thought. There are times when she does get what she has to say out pretty clearly, but most of the time, it's unclear. But apraxia mixes the words up by the time she gets them to her mouth--it's an oral motor planning issue. According to her test scores, she has 3 letters of the alphabet that she says consistently and correctly, but all the other 24 is usually incorrect. So for instance, she can say "Mama" just fine, but for some reason, she isn't able to say "mouse" or "mine". She will also hear the "p" sound in the word "up", but will use it in the beginning of the word, as well the end, making it sound like "Pup".  Apraxia is full of inconsistencies.

She is in the 1% range, and the speech therapist says she would like her to be at least in the 16% percentile.

The good news is that usually kids outgrow apaxia, and that she's going to get continued speech therapy. They asked if we would be willing to let Anna go to "Taste of Preschool" once a week where she will be with other children her age and get speech services there. They're hoping that being around people that don't understand her like we do, will help her get out of the habits of communicating that she does, which is basically miming or doing her own sign language.

So it's a little frustrating to have a child with another speech impendment, but we keep in mind that it could be much worse and that it will eventually be outgrown. Anna's pretty smart for her age and the teachers have observed that she tries hard and makes a lot of efforts so we have all this in our favor!

Okay, off to shower now...

Picture Day

Today was Anna and Henry's picture day. We took them to the Target Portrait studio to get some long and over due pictures taken, before they grow out of their "baby days". With Anna's 3rd birthday just around the corner, I definitely wanted some pictures of her. Thankfully, she still has a baby face.

The picture taking went great! Well, it could have gone better, actually, but with a toddler and baby, you learn not to expect too much. We got some great pictures of Anna, but had a harder time getting Henry to smile. Like I said, he developed stranger anxiety recently, and he did not like being on the studio floor with me and Dennis away from him. (Even though we were just behind the photographer.) He didn't like the photographer, he didn't like the camera and he didn't like all the songs and funny faces we were making to get him to laugh, or at least smile. He did a lot of fussing and crying. The pictures we had when he wasn't crying, he looked scared. So we have some interesting pictures of Henry.

We were especially happy with Anna's "modeling"; she seemed to know when to smile and how much "smile" to give without giving the classic goofy grin kids make. But after a while, she was getting tired of being told what to do (lay on your tummy! Now stand up tall! Now jump in the air!) and started getting glassy-eyed, and pretty soon, we knew we lost Anna too. But, like I said, you can't put your expectations too high with little kids, and we did get some pretty cute pictures. I wish I could show you some previews, but since they are still copyrighted and not officially ours yet, I will give you a amateur picture taken at home, before we left.

You can't really see it too well in this picture, but I bought this lacey overall outfit for Anna. I bought it off of Zulilly, which I normally never do. But it was just a one-of-a-kind outfit that would look great in pictures or holidays, so I decided to buy it for her pictures. And then Luke went and chopped off all her hair, so that's where the big headband and flower come in.

Anyway, it turned out great, and we're going to do it all over again in January...this time, with all 5 kids. That should be an interesting post.

Barber Luke

Yes, I see red.

And we have a photo session scheduled next week for Anna and Henry.

 Big bow, perhaps? 

Happy All Saints Day!

I can't think of a better, more uplifting holiday than All Saints Day to have right after Halloween. I enjoyed trick or treating with the kids, but if it wasn't for the lightness of the kids, I would hate Halloween. Only because I know that there are a lot of people who use this holiday for satan worshiping. Yuck.

Anyway, onto brighter things...

Carving pumpkins this Halloween was a lot easier, as the kids did (mostly) gutting out the pumpkin part themselves. I bought some easy do-it-yourself kid carving kit, and Lucy did her own pumpkin and Anna's too. For her pumpkin, she just needed to pound plastic nails in to make a design, and then you pull the nails out.

I let Max use a knife for the first time. Yikes.
Luke wanted to use a knife too, but I didn't let him. He was disappointed.

Anna was a little angel during all this and colored. Get it? Little angel?? Ha,ha!

So for Halloween, Anna was an angel, Lucy was Spider Girl, Luke was "Thor", and Max was a swamp monster. He would get really irritated when people would say, "Oh, you must be a lizard!"

The shutter for the lens kept getting stuck, as you can see.

After a while, I would tell Max to just not look at me with his mask on. It was just too disturbing.

I am not a lizard. I'm a SWAMP MONSTER!

Before trick or treating, we went to Luke's friends Jame's house. (Wow, that was a mouthful!) Let me tell you, James's neighborhood knows how to hand out candy! We should've just stayed at their neighborhood instead. There was one group of about 20 people, both parents and trick or treaters that I almost ran over...

Then there were two guys drinking beer with a bon fire and had 3 tables put together with bowls of candy. They said to the kids, "Take some from each bowl!" And Luke, who has been told over and over to only take one piece, was in heaven.

We did end up going back to our neigborhood though. Had to see you the neighbors, you know. We don't get many trick or treaters around here--they must all be in Jame's neighborhood.

Happy All Saints Day!

I shouldn't be Alive

Lately, I've been watching this show called I shouldn't be alive, which tells harrowing, edge-on-your-seat real life stories of people surviving the most unlikely situations. The ones that stand out in my mind are: an athlete  who is training for a marathon falls off the ridge of a trail about 30 feet down, breaks her pelvis, survives 4 days in a remote park which most people don't visit with only her dog, and a small puddle of water. To survive the cold nights which dip to freezing, she does crunches every 5 minutes to keep from getting hypothermia--she does this despite her broken pelvis. On top of this, she drags herself miles down the road to look for help.

Or another one, where a man is the only survivor of a plane crash--he lands in the ocean and stays afloat--on his back--for 3 days, going through valleys of jelly fish.

Or the young couple that get lost in the valley of mountains for 4 days; during their adventure they discover the body of another hiker who never made it out alive. Despite the fact that he was armed with camping gear, along with a compass and a map, doesn't give them much hope that they're going to get out alive either.

Or the teenager who is on a hunting trip with his father, gets separated and attacked by a grizzly bear, kills him with one shot (nearly impossible to do) and survives the night by crawling for help despite his artery in his leg literally hanging out from the huge bear gash.

And yet, they all live to tell about it.

I can only watch one episode a day. Watching these shows always leaves me with so much emotion; sometimes I feel my stomach turning as they go through all this turmoil, and watching them retell these stories while breaking into tears usually has me crying too.

So you're probably wondering why I watch this then, if it seems to bother me so much? I have wondered this too, because these episodes do bother me. The episodes are always the same: there's the trauma, the shock that they survived the trauma, then the hope and determination to be saved, and then the realization of the likelihood that they won't live, and then finally, the resignation of defeat and acceptance of death. By this time, the victim during the interview is usually crying, and I, along with them. But I finally realized what it is that draws me to this show so much: I "get it" what they went through, and if they knew what I went through, they would "get me" too.

Happily, my own heart attack trauma was not a drawn out episode that lasted 3 days. I am thankful that it was only a harrowing 6 minutes. Yet, it was harrowing, it was scary. And it started off the same as these others; the strong will and desire to survive, ending with the realization that you probably won't live, and the acceptance that you will die. You don't want to die, but it's inevitable. You are not strong enough to overcome death.

It's a terrible feeling.

Having to say goodbye without having the words to say them, leaving so much undone, not even knowing how to spend these last minutes of your life, and just using them to beg God for more time. It is the same as drowning, dying of an illness, burning in a house, starving in the wilderness or freezing in a blizzard. All these people (including myself) go through the same denial, the same protests, even though each of their situations are different--every one of them clings for more time.

No joking intended, this is why I can't even flush a spider down the toilet. I can't stand to see them struggle to live, even for those few seconds.

But then, when all seems lost and done, when darkness has won over and you finally have waved your flag of defeat, God steps in. He did this for me, and each one of these survivors.

Not all of the survivors seem to know or admit that it was God who saved them--a lot of them say "by chance, this happened" or "just out of luck, that happened", but it was God, who saved them. It is so obvious. I wonder why they don't see it, or if they just don't want to acknowledge it.

The athlete that crawled on her belly for 4 days wouldn't have made it out if it wasn't for her dog, who led people to find her. They say that when the dog finally returned to her side, he began to drink out of her puddle--her only lifesource--for the first time. She was a little upset with the dog at first, since he had his own puddle and wondered why he would drink out of her own puddle. But it was his way of telling her that everything was okay now, and minutes later, the help arrived.

Or the man that survived by floating on his back for 3 days--even while sleeping? Pretty much impossible! On the 2nd night alone in the ocean, fighting off hypothermia and getting hundreds of jelly fish stings and unable to float any longer, what happens to come floating to him for the first time? A log! A log, out in the vast ocean. He uses this log to stay afloat during the night so he can sleep, and later gets rescued by a fishing boat.

And the young couple that got stranded out in the valley of mountains? The girlfriend had been quietly praying to St.Christopher, patron of travelers, for his help when they later found the dead hiker the next day. In his wallet, they found a prayer card of St.Christopher. Along with this, a box of matches, which had miraculously stayed dry all that time, despite the fact that the hiker had been dead for a year. They use the matches to light a huge fire, and they eventually get found by a search and rescue plane. They credit this hiker for saving their lives; by his notes and his supplies, they had a chance to live, and at the same time, his family finally were able to lay him to rest.

And the teenager who is dying from shock and his artery nearly being severed--he is found (amid a terrible storm) by a doctor who just happened to be camping nearby, and the doctor specializes in shock trauma. He pulls the teenager through the night while they wait for help the next morning. These things don't "just happen". It's all God!

And of course, we know that God miraculously intervened that day for me to live. I shouldn't have lived because Dennis shouldn't have been home that day--he should have been off doing his usual errands that he did every night. And I shouldn't have lived except the cop just happened to pull up the moment I lost consciousness and my heart stopped. I shouldn't have lived, except I had a cop who did CPR right away, and I'm told, 3 burly firemen who took turns doing CPR for 40 minutes. I shouldn't have lived, except one of the firemen was praying Hail Mary's the entire time (according to the notes in my Caring Bridge.)
 "I shouldn't be alive" still hits me every day. Though it's practically been 3 years now, time continues to be precious. I try hard not to waste it. At the same time, once you face death, once you experience it, time has a new meaning. It means that it's ending; not continuing. It means that the hour is almost up, not beginning. It means every second counts, every minute counts. You learn to live like you're dying.

It's not quite my 3rd year anniversary yet, but it doesn't matter, because every day counts. I've said it once and I'll continue to say it until the day I die (again): Time is precious! Don't waste it!

Every time I watch this show, I see how good God is. Even though not all of these people seem to know it, God steps in to save these people; He doesn't allow them to die with no hope. And all of these people who get to live to tell of how they almost died, whether they are spiritual or not, are living examples of the miracles of God.


Here is a psalm that I found fitting: "In their distress they cried to the Lord, who saved them in their peril, Led them forth from darkness and gloom and broke their chains assunder. Let them thank the Lord for such kindness, such wondrous deeds for mere mortals. For He broke down the gates of bronze and snapped the bars of iron." Psalms, 107; 13-16

The Parking Lot Story

Another adventure for the Arganbrights. I don't know how I get so lucky. But don't worry, this time there was no gasoline involved!

Yesterday Luke had a birthday party to go to at the Mall of America. It was his old preschool friends birthday, James. Remember James? Anyway, the party was at the Mall in the Aquarium.

Getting there was no problem. Getting to the right door where the Aquarium was no problem either, because I had been there before and easily walked in with easy parking and no crowds. But this time, it was Sunday, and apparently, everybody shops on Sunday!

First of all, I couldn't find a parking space. That was irritating, but that was the least of my problems. I went up a level and finally found a space way in the back. Getting 5 kids through a super-busy parking lot that acts like a freeway was an issue. I couldn't push the stroller with one hand and hold Anna's hand with the other. I had Lucy push the stroller for me, but it was awkward because she was lagging behind and like I said, this parking lot was busy.

Then we finally got inside the Mall, and it was like a zoo in there. The aquarium entrance was right there inside the doors, but there were crowds of people either sitting around or standing in groups which made it difficult to manuever around. Keeping Lucy with us was hard too, with so many people separating us. To get inside the aquarium, you have to go down a level and there was an escalator right in front of us, but like I said, we had the stroller. Normally Dennis can bring the stroller on the escalator by just tilting it upward on two wheels, but like I said, I had 4 other kids to get on the escalator with me, and they always have trouble getting on the moving stairs. So I went to the ticket booth where there was a big space with nothing around and asked the girl at the counter if I could just leave the stroller there, explaining that I was just dropping off my son at a birthday party and that I would be right back to get it. She used her super-polite voice and said there was a "secret elevator" right around the corridor that's used for only employees that we could use. I had no desire to look for a "secret elevator" because the way things were going, I wouldn't find the "secret elevator" and we were already late as it was, thanks to the crowded parking lot. So I ended up ditching the stroller by the escalators and just hoped that it would still be there when we got back.

Like I said, trying to get all the kids onto the escalator isn't easy when there's a crowd of people already on the escalator. Some of the kids still get a little nervous getting on it, and we almost ended up losing Luke. He did get on safely though, and as I got off, I went up to the girl who was collecting tickets to tell her we were there for a birthday party. She got on her walkie-talkie to get someone to escort us to the birthday room when we were interrupted by Max hollering, "Mama! Help!" I turned around to find him laying on the floor by the escalator. Thinking he was just acting silly, I was about to scold him for laying on the floor where people had to walk over him, but then I realized that his shoe lace was caught in the escalator. I ran up to hit the emergency Stop button, but an employee got there before me and ripped his shoelace out before it sucked his shoe--and his foot--under the stairs. Whew. And I hadn't even dropped Luke off yet.

Then a male employee showed up and told us he would escort us to the party. We went through stairs and many back hallways and I was sure I wasn't going to be able to find my way back. After walking by many other birthday rooms, we finally got to James party. I was ready to drop off Luke but he was very nervous about being left there. He had already been weepy in the car--the big Mall scared him, and all the crowds didn't help. James Mom was trying to comfort him but I didn't feel comfortable leaving him yet. He looked so alone, sitting at the table apart from the other kids, blinking back his tears and trying not to cry. James was at the head of the table and so he wasn't able to sit next to Luke, and Luke didn't know the other kids there. So James's grandma suggested that I stay for a few minutes and help Luke assemble his shark tooth necklace that they gave him and without giving me a chance to say yes or no, she swooped Henry out of my arms so that I could help Luke.  So I basically had no choice.

I was glad I stayed though, because when Luke saw I was going to stay a few minutes longer, I saw him visibly relax and the fear left his eyes. He even began to appreciate his party favor--a boy necklace with a real shark tooth! The dumb thing was impossible to assemble though--you were supposed to wire-wrap the tooth to the necklace and I couldn't get it on. On top of that, Henry, who has not yet showed any stranger-anxiety, decided to show it now at that moment. James's Grandma was holding him and playing with him and he seemed to be doing fine, but he took one look at James' Dad and freaked. From that moment on, nobody could hold him without him screaming, so James's grandma gave him back to me, and I still didn't have the shark tooth wired on yet. Then Anna began to do the potty dance and I knew it was time to go.

A nice lady offered to help with the necklace and I gladly handed it over to her while I tried to distract Henry and sit with Luke. It took about another 10 minutes, but by the time the necklace was assembled and tied it around Luke's neck, Luke was happy and jumped up to play with the shark puppets with other boys, not even saying good-bye. I felt a lot better about leaving, so we waved good-bye and tried to find our way back through all the corridors to the aquarium.

I thought our problems were over once we found our way back to the stairway, but then I realized I left my purse at the party. So we tried to go back to the hallway, but stairway door was locked! Thinking we were locked in the stairway, I began to panic a little. It didn't help that Max asked if were going to be locked in there forever.

I finally did find a door that wasn't locked, thank goodness, and I went up to the same girl to tell her that I left my purse at the party and I needed someone to get it for me since the stair doors were locked without an employee badge. So she radioed the same guy again, and I pleaded him to get it for me so I wouldn't have to take all the kids through all that again. He agreed and left and we waited for about 15 minutes just for him to come back and tell me he couldn't find my purse. So we ended up going with him again, through the stairway and all the hallways, found my purse, waved good-bye again, and this time, the guy escorted us back so we wouldn't get locked in the stairway again.

One bright spot through all of this was that the stroller was still there. Amazing.

As we were walking back to the parking lot though, it occurred to me that I couldn't remember where I had parked. I had memorized the number on the pillar before we left and told myself to remember that we had parked in the "orange level", but with everything that happened, my memory was wiped clean of any parking details. All I could remember was that we were in the orange level--whatever level that was.

I tried looking for one of those maps that has a "You are Here" map on it so it could tell me where the orange level was, but they are doing in construction in some areas of the parking lot, so certain areas were blocked off and I couldn't find any map. I ended up riding the elevator up and down, looking for the orange level, but never found it. Finally, I began to doubt myself and wonder if I really did park in the orange level, so what did we do? We began to stop on each level and we walked the parking lot to the area of where I parked--somewhere in the back. You know what's worse than getting lost in a parking lot? Getting lost in seven of them!

Well, I can't say we walked all seven parking lots, because I knew we didn't park on the top level. That was the only thing I was sure of. I also knew we didn't park on the ground level, because I remembered driving up a level or two to find a parking space. The problem was that I couldn't remember how many levels I drove up.

So I thought that maneuvering 5 children through a busy parking lot was difficult--but maneuvering with 4 kids was just as hard because we were lost. I had Max pushing the stroller, which proved to be a mistake, because he was screaming and panicking with every car that zoomed by us, and there were times when he refused to cross the "street" in the parking lot because he was afraid of getting run over by a car. It didn't help that a bunch of Vikings fans were now zooming all over the parking lots--I only knew that they were Vikings fans because of the yellow and purple clothes and hair. So I had to go back to pushing the stroller with one hand and holding Anna, (who had by now wet herself) with the other hand.

We went through the red parking lot and walked all the way to the back and all the way back to the elevators again....to the blue parking lot and walked all the way to the back and all the way back to the elevators again...to the purple parking lot and walked all the way to the back and all the way back to the elevators again...to the yellow parking lot and all the way to the back of the parking lot. By now, I was sure I had just imagined that I had parked in the orange parking lot and decided that I must have parked in the yellow parking lot. So I refused to go back to the elevators again (remember I have an elevator phobia, people!) and we walked the back of the parking lot, row by row, but never found  the car.

All this time, I was praying to St.Anthony to help us as we were the "lost item". I thought to myself that we never checked out the second level, but I didn't want to go all the way back to the elevators again. I was getting really tired, really stressed, the kids were tired of walking, Lucy was starting to get scared and cry, and Max was screaming every time a car passed us. I was sure that we were somewhere on the yellow level but just couldn't find the car. At one point, I saw a Mall Cop riding through the parking lot on his bike, but he was too far away to call out to and of course I couldn't chase after him with the kids.

So right after saying another prayer to St.Anthony--this time a little more urgently--Max suddenly speaks up and says, "Hey, we're on the Yellow Level. Shouldn't orange come after yellow?" Then Lucy says, "That's right, this parking lot is like the colors of the rainbow!" It suddenly hit me to listen to Max and maybe he was right--maybe orange did come before or after yellow. We just happened to be by a stairwell, and I peeked through the railings at the level below us--and it was the orange level, which happened to be the second level--the one we never checked out! It was as though the angels were singing "Alleluia!" and I could've joined right in.

Well, the only thing I was sure about this time, was that since we were already in the back of the Yellow Parking lot, that we were also parked in the back of the Orange parking lot. So I didn't want to go all the way back to the front of the parking lot just to use the elevator when we were in the right area. So Lucy and Max helped me carry down the stroller two flights of stairs to the Orange Level oh-so-carefully. It took a while, as Lucy teetered every time she took another step, trying to hold on to the stroller and not fall down the stairs.

So on to the Orange Level, we had to look a little bit to find the car, but it didnt' take too long because we were already in the back area of the parking lot. We were never so happy to find the car! I buckled the kids in, promised them a sundae from McDonalds since our plans for making cupcakes were ruined (we ran out of time) and as I started the car, I thought to myself how thankful I was for realizing I had forgotten my purse while I was still in the aquarium rather than finally in the car. Even if it did mean being locked in the stairwell.

By the time we were on the road, it was 5:00, and the party ended at 5:30. That means that we with all that chaos, we were stuck at the Mall of America for an hour and a half!

You might be wondering why I even bothered leaving when the party was going to end in a half-hour. Well, before I left Luke, James mom was nice enough to offer to bring Luke home since they live nearby us, and they had an extra carseat in the car already. Thankfully I had said yes--I could think of no reason to say no, and it meant more time for Luke to spend with James alone. I also had to get back home to get ready for Mass--this was the reason why we had no time to make the cupcakes like I had promised Lucy. And so that was the reason I bought them sundaes instead.

They deserved it, they were troopers throughout the entire fiasco. I can tell you one thing, if I ever throw a birthday party for the kids anywhere--it won't be at the Mall of America!

Seven Quick Takes, conferences, trips and such

Seven Quick Takes

1. 

I haven't done my 7 Quick Takes in a while. So here it goes!

2. 

This week was conference week at school. Long story short, all kids are doing well. Max's teacher seems to really like Max and feels for him more than she lets on. She talked about how the first month was very stressful for him and she could see it in his eyes. She said there were times she wanted to hug him and tell him it would be okay. I initially didn't like this teacher very much at first, because on my first and second meeting with her, she didn't come off as very warm and friendly, but this time she won me over. I guess some people aren't warm and friendly naturally, but that doesn't mean that they don't care. Anyway, she has given him many "outs" that I didn't even know about (for his sake because she could see that certain things were too stressful for him), and Max tells me that she always takes the time to zip up his impossible jacket with the impossible zipper. I don't even take the time to do this--because the zipper is pretty much broken. So all these little things tell me that even though she can't be at Max's side all the time during the day, she is still keeping her eye on him. 

3. 

Lucy is doing well too, but I was surprised when the teacher told me how behind Lucy is. I always thought of Lucy as being "ahead of the game" because of her love of learning. With this school, they have a different system in finding a base-level for the kids; they give the end of the year tests to the kids at the beginning of the year; this way they learn who is "ahead of the game" and needs more of a challenge, and who could use more help with the grade that they're at. So of course with these tests, they don't expect the kids to understand a lot of the stuff since it's a grade higher than where they're at right now. This explains why Max came home those days very upset exclaiming, "Those teachers are giving me tests that I haven't even learned yet!"

Anyway, Lucy is slightly below the other kids but the teacher isn't worried because she sees that Lucy has the interest to learn.

4.

Luke is also doing well (it's Kindergarten, how can you fail that?) but he isn't recognizing a lot of the letter sounds, so the teacher asked permission to put him in a special reading group where they work one-on-one with kids who need it. The other concern is that they say that Luke gets emotional pretty easily at school over little things--over a ripped piece of paper, something that doesn't go right, or if someone hurts his feelings. In other words, Luke is the "sensitive kid"! He doesn't show that side around here at all, though sometimes he does tear up easily. Hopefully it's just a stage because you don't want to think of your kid crying at school. 

5.

Other than conferences, we also took a one day trip to Superior to visit Dennis's mom. She's about a month out from her heart surgery and is doing well. She has a large scar going up to her sternum and is still a little sore. She said she can go back to work in a few weeks. She also had cut her hair short (of which I have to confess, I didn't notice until she pointed it out. But her hair grows so fast it never stays short for long.) She said that it was all the way down to her waist, and on the day of her surgery, she had her sister cut her hair so that it wouldn't be a rat's nest after the surgery. So as they wheeled in the gurney to get her, there they were, cutting her hair. She donated the hair to "Locks for Love", a place where you can donate your hair to make wigs for people who can't afford them. Wasn't that nice? 

The kids did great with the ride up  to and from Superior. I was especially happy with Henry, who hardly fussed at all. And when he fell asleep, the kids were so good about being quiet without me having to shush them at all. 

6. 

The other day, I made a chaplet of St.Philomena with a medal that has the second-class relic of St.Philomena. I posted about it on my other blog, Roses for Mary, and it sold the same day! I was pretty happy about this--this is the reason why I have that blog, to do my advertising. The woman who bought it said she saw it on my blog. It makes me wonder if the other rosaries that have sold were from readers from my other blog; this is the only reason why I want comments on that blog, to get to know my readers, otherwise, I'll never know if my blog is working as advertising or not, unless the person says so.

Jerry, you asked how the "rosary business" is going; well, here's a little more in-depth answer for you: it's going better than last year, and I thought that last year went really well. However, when I looked back over the stats of sales and page views, it actually really didnt' go that well at all.  It didn't bother me at that time because I was thinking of my Etsy more of a hobby than as a business. Now, I think of my Etsy more as a business because it's become my goal to use this as my part-time job and get paid at least part-time wages. I was feeling discouraged this year that my Etsy is still not quite at a part-time wage level, but it's not too far off either. My sales have doubled or even tripled over these past few months. I've definitely learned a lot about what you can do to expose your business and improve your products. I have a lot of new ideas of what I'd like to do with my rosaries, and my hope is that by next year, I will be able to call Etsy my new part-time job!

7.

Speaking of Etsy, do you remember when I asked you what you thought this was?

If you guessed a rainbow octopus, you are wrong, but I can see why you would guess this! It is actually furniture. That's right, furniture! It's sold in Europe in an Etsy business. And yes, this person makes a lot of money! You're supposed to arrange the "strands"in whatever way you want to make a chair, couch, bed or whatever. Weird, but effective.

And last, but not least, here is Max's first essay from school, in his own words:

Toy Store

I love toy store. The toy store is the best store in the universe. I hear people saying I want this and I want that. There are big kids and little kids and medium kids and grown ups. When I eat snacks I think about toy stores. My body feels so excited when I go to the toy stores and I smell toys. I love toys!

The teacher was very proud of this essay. And yes, he does smell the toys.

Ok, I'm going to attempt to make Apple Sin Bread. I will let you know how it goes! Visit Jen at the Conversion Diary!