Lu is a year and some change and this morning I put her in a 24 month onesie.  This girl . . .

Max walked in just as I stood her up and she yelled out a greeting.

"Lu!  We match!"

She jumped into his arms and they took off down the hall chatting and laughing together.  Those two . . .


We've done the math a lot.  There are 10.5 years between them.  When he's 16, she will be six.  When she's ten, he'll be twenty.  I hope they can keep the love they have for each other now alive and well through all the changes they are bound to encounter.


No one can raise six kids, we are well aware.  But I am more and more aware with each passing day that the greatest gift we have or will ever give our children is their siblings. Do they fight? Absolutely. Are there rivalries and jealousies and hurts of all kinds?  Sure.  But under that and over that and around it all is the gift of the other, the training in charity, the bonds of love.  And that is worth it all.

Man.  This life . . . !



Last August when I was a stew of pregnancy induced hormones and anxiety the midwife suggested one on one time with each of the kids for an hour each day, every day.  She wrote it down like a prescription.

"And whispering only, too.  Make them do it, Annie.  I mean it."

We whispered for a week and my mind was reset.  The noise level climbed again and today you'd be lucky to hear yourself shouting above the din the majority of the time.

The individual time, though . . . that has stuck with a few minor tweaks.  It never worked for hour stretches because 60 minutes during which 4 children were unsupervised in this house was begging for a disaster.  We began with 20 and have worked up to 30 minutes.  Also, every day made it less special and anticipated and we weren't getting the school in that we liked to.

This year we moved the times to Wednesdays and dubbed them ITs (said Eye-Tees). The kids love their "Individual Times" and we all look forward to the change of pace in the middle of the week.  They're starting to learn to wait to ask me for special projects or privileges during those precious half hours.  We have played Minecraft, arm-knitted, painted, made cookies, played cards, drawn, read, crafted, built Legos, given manicures - the choices are all theirs.

Ground rules are simple: follow the Golden Rule.  Would you like your IT to be interupted?  No?  Then don't interrupt your sibling's!  Keep an eye on Gemma and find something to do that will not destroy anything or bother anyone else until it is your turn.  The person who finishes their chores fastest usually gets to go first but sometimes there can be bickering.  Today they drew cards out of a regular deck to see which order the middle three would go.  No tears or arguing followed - praised be Jesus!

We are all about learning and practicing virtue all the time but ITs provide opportunities to practice patience and generosity and charity and experience an immediate benefit from it.  They are also learning to think ahead and prepare.  If they have all the parts and pieces ready for a project, we will get so much more done in the time we have than if we are trying to track down a full deck of cards or the supplies for a craft. Some Wednesdays I set a timer and some I just stay right with them until they are done.  It's funny how the girls want to do things WITH me but the boys want me to watch them do things or read aloud while they do as they like.   The best part of it all is that the concentrated time with just me seems to fill them up and I try very hard to look and listen for ways to encourage them specifically during their time.  It's like a mini stay-at-home speed date.  With my kids.  It works for us!



I secretly love winter.

Sure, I can crab and complain about it with the best of them and come February I'm over it but now, right this very moment, I love it.

I loved it Friday when I decided form over function in my shoe choice and wore my flats on my bare feet and had snow seeping into my shoes.  Not my smartest decision ever but the snow was  so fluffy and sparkly and squeaked in the perfect way when you walked that nothing else mattered.

I loved it Sunday when the air was so cold and the wind was so fierce that the branches of the poop tree actually creaked and groaned, naked against the sky.

I loved it last night when it was so cold in our room that we piled on the blankets and snuggled down in a nest for the night.

I love winter for the way it makes everything sharper.  The stars shine brighter, noises are clearer, smells are more potent.  The world comes into focus in the starkness of it all.

I mulled all of this over while leaving the radiology office this morning.  I had sat with a dry mouth and an empty mind while waiting to be called back, waiting through the exam, waiting for the doctors expertise.  In the end, things were positive and as I walked back to the car I thought about how that felt like winter - the sharpness, the nearness, the bleak.  And yet the sunshine broke through and it was dazzling and full of splendor that was almost painful.  The hopeful news seemed that much more so because of the still emptiness that surrounded it.

The good news was nearly eclipsed by the grind of the every day.  The Suburban is dead and Jac has been stressed and while reminding each other that God will provide is helpful, the moment the words leave our lips we doubt.  This afternoon I sat asking for God to show his love (as if a doctor's smile wasn't enough . . . ) when a card with an extremely generous gift from virtual strangers arrived. There were tears where the doubt had just been and again I considered winter.  How God can lead us to baren, empty, chilly places only to dazzle us with the sparkle of his shining love.  It's clearer and easier to see when things are stripped away and you feel naked against the sky.

Tonight we laughed and reminisced with Randy and Elizabeth (Randibeth? Elizandy? Hoffette? It's a work in progress. . .) around the table.  Yes, the thumbs up on my health and a large check were great but that - the company of friends and their contagious joy- was the high point of the day. They are on the other side of winter in their relationship and the growth and heady fragrances of spring are all around them.  It makes us all excited and hopeful of what is to come and reminds us that this season we are in will come to an end and turn into other things, figuratively and literally.

God is good, wherever we are. Right now that is winter and I love it.


Ellie celebrated her feast day today.  There were waffles for breakfast, tea in fancy dresses with a lunch time visit from her godmother (I am kicking myself for not getting a photo of them together.  Elizabeth taught about St. Elizabeth to all six of her classes dressed as St. Elizabeth.  Beautifully epic!), donuts, a necklace and nail polish from Elizabeth, Susan joined us for the requested stroganoff for supper, lots of ipad and wii time and a delicious cake Susan brought.  She went to bed exhausted and happy. It was a good day.

Really though, every day since Halloween has been a good day for her.  Yes, she has been the image of eager anticipation for weeks as she counted down to today.  But just knowing Halloween was over brought an abundance of relief.

Right around the time we were birthday shopping for Tess, she saw some Halloween decor in a store.

"Well," she said with a a sigh of resignation, "Guess I won't be shopping for a while."

I took the bait and asked for the reason why.

"Because of all the creepy stuff." she said.  If she was like her sister or just a leetle older she would have followed it with an "Obviously." and an eye roll.

Oh, riiiiiight!

It was a long month of hood-wearing, eyes-shut stumbling, walking-right-in-front-of-mom-and-in-between-the-shopping-cart trips for groceries and birthday presents.  We praised her for her bravery and thanked the Lord that there were no screaming hysterics this year. She would eagerly offer to stay in the car or stay home as long as she didn't have to go inside a store and chance a large hanging spider or billowing ghosts.

Then she began to notice the yard decor and then she was more than happy to remain house bound.

Her relief on the first of November was palpable and I have heard on numerous occasions, "I'm SOO glad Halloween is over!"

Me, too!  Except that means that the stores are now full out Christmas and that sends me into the same hood-wearing, eyes-shut avoidance.  Can I just stay home 'til it's over?


It's cold here.  Like freeze your snot cold.  It snowed Monday and our sidewalk has yet to be shoveled because the subzero temps make it hard to breathe and are a danger to your skin.  And after 4 housebound days the crew has caught a nasty case of cabin fever.

Yaaaay, winter.

It makes me pine for warmer days and better times.  Oh, take me back . . .

Sometime in the spring I ran across an ad on Facebook (yes I did.  Ain't no shame.) hawking Rapid Pursuit, an urban adventure race.  It said it was a team competition, family friendly, and could be done running, on bikes or meandering.  It had me at meandering!  There was also mention of challenges that required wit.  What was not to love?!

I sent out a jovial message to the college ladies along the lines of "Wouldn't this be fun?!" wink, wink, nudge, nudge, chortle, chortle.

Let me tell you, I was NOT chortling when Lace called my bluff and wanted to know who was in.  Maybe no one else was available . . . But then Chrisa was available and so was Lace and I had no real excuse so I had to say yes.  HAD to.  Then Chrisa went and registered us and it was official.

I started to sweat about 4 days before the race. My nightmares were haunting.  I'm not exaggerating - I dreamed that one of the challenges required us to hit a baseball and we couldn't move on until we did.  I woke up with my heart racing and wishing I had actually tried in middle school P.E..

The morning of the race, I was sick to my stomach. Problem was, so was Lu.  She puked and puked and puked some more.  There was choking and dry heaves and all sorts of suffering.

I cried.

Lacey and Chrisa said it wasn't a big deal and to worry about my baby.  Jac thought she'd be fine but he wasn't around.  In the end I asked our sitter (the rest of the crew was at the lake) what she thought.  She watched Lu toss her cookies, shrugged her shoulders and cuddled Lu to her.  "We'll be fine, right Lucy?  You go do your thing and get lots of ideas for Totus Tuus.  You deserve this!"  I was torn but I also knew that Rose's dad is a doctor and if anything was off, she was in good hands at their house.

We gathered in Main Street Square with plaid shirts, bandanas and straw hats to fit our Dakota Girls team name.  But the lean bodies with their gps watches and such were all sorts of intimidating.  What had we done?!


Lace was our team captain and received our packet with map, blindfold and clues.  Team after team ran out of the square while we worked through the clues, hoping our minds would help us out.  Then we were off.

About a block in, I wondered if I would make it out alive.  I didn't want to be the weak link but it wasn't looking good!


We pulled a sled.  We used a punching bag (AFTER we ripped off 15 push ups but before I humiliated myself by being unable to complete a single sit up, let alone 15.). There was a boat to row around a fountain whilst blindfolded.  We had to fish out rubber duckies and thanked the Lord that Chrisa the math teacher was on our team to add up the duck numbers to get the total we needed.


Then there was a "secret" challenge.  Everyone gathered about very excited like.  There was an assortment of condiments and a stack of cards.  Pull a card, they said, and eat whatever was on it.

I nearly quit.

Lace pulled a cricket and I got a silk worm. "Try the ranch!" the lady said.  "NOTHING will make this better." I informed her.


In the end, I opted for chocolate frosting and tried to swallow it as whole as possible.  I only picked worm bits from my teach for a little while . . .

The day was full of fun and laughter.  We had a ball shocking the volunteers who ran the Quarters and Beer Pong stations.  How could we have gone to college and not ever played these games?! Turns out Chrisa is very talented at Quarters. I trusted the girls to lead me blindfolded thru a minefield of dog poo. It wasn't until I was through that it was revealed that it was chocolate pudding.


And then came the basketball.  Make one basket with a water balloon shot from a sling shot.  10 tries but if we didn't make it, each of us would have to make a basket.


We didn't make it with the balloons.

And I made shot after shot after shot.  I think I cried and if my face hadn't been sunburned and red from effort, everyone would've seen how mightily I blushed.  My nightmare was coming true.

In the end, the volunteers let us go because they felt sorry for me and my suffering team.  That and we had barely any time to make it back to the starting point.

We ran until I couldn't any more then we'd walk.  Then we'd run again.  We laughed and encouraged each other and dodged in and out of traffic.

I couldn't do it.  We showed up in the square 30 seconds too late.  It was embarrassing and heartbreaking.  I cried then for sure.  I didn't want to let the girls down but I had.

But those sisters of mine?  They hugged me and prayed over me and reminded me that I had had a baby 9 months earlier which was amazing. They really are the best kind of friends.  We laughed some more and divided our chips and vowed that, barring pregnancies or babies, we'd be back again in 2015.  We'd train a little perhaps because 10 miles unprepared is pretty brutal.


And Lu? She fell asleep shortly after I left her, slept well and ate a large lunch, none the worse for wear.

Rapid Pursuit, it was real fun.  Hope to see you again but let's leave the edible bugs at home, hmmm?  And I'll work on my free throw.  And frisbee toss.  And my baseball skills just to be safe.


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I spent my first Friday mass this morning pondering hidden image pictures.  Don't tell Fr. Mike.

The thing is, I looked upon Max, holding open the prayer book, waiting ever so patiently beside Father while we sang through the 7 verses of the opening hymn and he looked so little.  Could this be the same boy who I couldn't help staring at while I combed the girls' hair because he was soo stinkin' lanky and tall?

Hence the thoughts about hidden images - the ones where you can't be sure if it's a hag or a beautiful woman you're looking at, a frog or a horse, because one moment it's one and the next, the other.

So it is with my man child.  He asks deep and maturing questions yet brings himself to tears of laughter over the newest joke book.  He raps along to Righteous B in the car but plays the theme to Lego Ninjago on the piano.  He craves the independent thrill riding his bike to piano lessons brings yet asks to sit on my lap during prayer.  It's dizzying and good but like those optical illusions, it makes my head ache ever so slightly. I just can't look away.  Who would want to?


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This may come as a surprise, but I'm not a huge fan of facial hair. But Jac can rock a sweet beard so he does and I'm okay with that.  Given the choice, however, I prefer a clean shave.

Lucy on the other hand . . .

"Daddy" to her means a nice full beard that she can pull on or "soft" (that's kid for caress) whenever she likes (often in her sleep when she's stretched out between us). At the end of the summer Jac shaved one day while she and I were out running errands.  When he came out to unload the car, she cried.

Tonight Jac shaved again (probably the first time since the crying episode) and came out to the table with his collar pulled over his nose.  We watched in anticipation of the "big reveal."

"Lucy!  Lu! LU LU!  Look at me!"

She looked around at each of us and laughed.  She pointed at Jac and smiled.  "Da!"

Then the shirt was pulled down and we held our breaths.  Lu's smile melted - I can say I have never seen a person's face fall until tonight. She checked her sibling's reactions and tried not to cry.  Jac tried to get her to touch his face and she pulled back, none to pleased at his assumption that she wanted him that close.

It took 20 minutes or so for her to build up her confidence in him and for his beard to start coming back.  She and I were both relieved, just for different reasons.


Mama Syd has claimed they look alike from the start! The night we tortured her with this, she promptly ripped the 'stache from her face and tore it in half.  Then she turned towards Jac and spent a minute trying to pull his moustache off, too.


I wish I could adequately describe the level of chaos that is usual during "school."

Okay, it's really not that bad but Gemma is just on the cusp of hanging with the big kids (an aside: she is trying so very, very hard to figure out what it means to be her at this moment.  "Mama?  Am I big or little?"  Mama Syd said it perfect when she told her she is smaller than Max and bigger than Lucy, but Gemma's still ironing it all out.) and that means that there is a lot of chair hopping and interruptions and loud whispers and some complaining from her siblings. It also means that there are days that give a sliver of a peek into what I think will be the very near future and that's pretty sweet.

She takes very seriously the job of beginning morning prayer by leading us in the sign of the cross.  She wants the hymnal opened to the right page and wants it to be a song she knows so that she can sing, too.  And sometimes she will join in on our studies at the table in an earnest way.  Today was one of those days.

We are learning about Christianity's arrival in England and life in the Dark Ages.  It was a great moment of pride and encouragement when I wrote "Illuminare" up on the wall and the kids guessed it meant light.  "Manus" meant hands ("Like manos," Max explained) and "scriber" meant write.  But my heart really leapt when I asked what they thought a scriptorium was and without a pause Max said "A room for writing."  He figured it out. Boom.

Anyway, they colored illuminated manuscript letters while I read aloud from our history book. Gemma laid on the table from the waist up, her toes barely reaching the chair behind her.  She scribbled line after line on her page, demanding new colors from her brothers and rolling her artwork to give to me only to take it back to "work some more."  We follow up our reading with questions about the content and, to keep bickering down to a minimum, I usually ask a specific kid a question.

Today I just happened to make eye contact with Gemma while I asked a question.

"Do you remember what they wrote on?"

Several kiddos started to answer but Gemma cut them off.

"Hey!  Stop it, guys!  Mom asked me!" she yelled.

They snickered and I raised my eyebrows.  She glared her frustration at her siblings for a second then turned back to her paper and back towards me.  "I'm ready." she said quietly, purposefully coloring away.

I held back my laughter and smiled while the other kids held their breaths.

"Gemma, do you remember what the monks wrote on?"

She stopped drawing, squinting her eyes in thought and tapping her lips with her pencil.  After a moment of thinking she said, "Yes.  Their bikes."

She went back to writing. The rest of us nearly died from suppressed joy.

The remainder of the morning, the kids kept repeating it to the same response while I pondered if she should have her hearing checked.  "Their bikes . . . " I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.


To be filed under "Do Not Forget!" in the event of future guilt trips and/or the blessing of another baby.

At 11 months and a handful of days, Lucy does not sleep.  It's been this way for a while, actually, but I think her lack of sleep is compounding with my lack of sleep and therefor feels dire.  Overwhelming.  End of the world.

Is it because I boasted while she was an infant that she could sleep anywhere and through anything?  Darn me and my big mouth!

It crept in slowly, and in my sleep deprived state, I didn't have the strength/where-with-all/desire to stop it.  She began to only nurse in our room, door shut, her and I.  Secretly I think it was God's way of giving me a break from the constant NOISE of the house.  Then it was a refusal to fall asleep without nursing.  Or to sleep anywhere that wasn't the swing.  And then anywhere away from me.  That morphed into not falling asleep EVER and




Ugh.  Mama Syd reminded me this summer that I once said I could handle just about anything as long as I could get them to nap together.  It's true.  Or rather, was true.  I haven't seen synchronized naps in months and I'm still hanging in there.  By a thread, admittedly, but I'm hanging!

It might be an easier pill to swallow if it wasn't for the extreme effort it takes to get her to sleep only to have ANYTHING (*a moth sneezes in a mitten* WAH!!! "Lucy's awake!") wake her up.  I can be driven to hysterics over a stray sunbeam dancing on the crib or someone dropping a water bottle on the way downstairs.  It isn't pretty.

Add to this a five-year-old who, out of sheer willfulness, is constantly exhausted and a toddler who wants to party with said 5-year-old and anyone over 7 who realizes the window a little quiet time can afford for them and mom and there is no silence or rest to be found in this joint.

Excuse me while I drink myself into a stupor . . .

Saturday Jac was away at VSI and the kids and I prepared for an evening of company.  Lucy didn't sleep and wink until she simply ran out of gas at 5 pm.  And it wasn't for a lack of trying!  Anyway, She slept 6 hours straight that night and I woke up Sunday feeling brand new.  It's amazing what a few hours will do for you!  Now if only my kids would learn that . . .


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It's that time of year - we've begun discussing All Saints costumes. It's simultaneously raising and lowering my stress level because, 1. We will now have Lucy's birthday, All Hallow's Eve, All Saints and All Souls in succession forever and ever, amen, and this mom needs a game plan so help me, Jesus! and 2. Is it that time again? When will I find the time to do what needs to be done let alone make friends with the sewing machine again? Wah!  There's a lot of emotions tied up in this . . .

Anyway, I'll leave you in suspense of the decisions that have been made except in Gemma's case.  Lord love her, while everyone else has been hauling out books to research and googling images of their favorite saints, I don't think Gemma really understands what's happening.  At least I didn't think she did.  Then Friday afternoon as everyone was LOUDLY discussing decisions and costumes, Gemma said in a little voice to no one in particular, "Yeah, and I'm gonna be an angel."

"You're gonna be an ANGEL?" I clarified over the din. A few siblings snickered.

"Mm-hmmm." she nodded. "I hungwy.  Who's my Ramen?"

This morning it was my job to get her still damp self ("I'm done with that towel!" followed by, "Mama, I need clothes!  I fweezing!!") into tights and a sweater dress.

"So . . . You want to be an angel for All Saints Day?"

She froze with big eyes.  "Yeah!  I will be an angel and fly, fly, fly up to heaven and I will say, 'Wake up, God!' and he will say, 'Oh, hi, Gemma!  I love you! You're bootiful!' and I am!"  Her brown eyes were big and earnest and brimming with joy. "And I will have wings."

Yes, I laughed.  And cried.  And thanked God for her willowy, spirited, 'bootiful' self all through mass.

An angel she will be.