Long overdue Momoisms.

You know they have been coming for some time, but they have just been undocumented. Until now.
*******

Mom, why don't you give the baby to dad. Then I can sit in your lap. That would be awesome!!!!

N.B. There is apparently an awesome dance which dad has witnessed on occasion.


*******
Momo came up and squeezed my girth and asked, "Is dare a baby in there?"
"Nope," I replied, "just fat."
"But," she answered, "dare is a SWIMMING POOL for babies in dare!!!!"
Then she ran off.

***********


"Momo, you need to be good for Jesus."

"For Jesus?" (like she'd just heard of the guy. I must be down on the job.)

"Yes, for Jesus."

"Is he going to babysit for us? "

Because let's face it, she's only good for babysitters.

**********

"Momo, why did you come into our room last night?"

"Because Beanie was making noises."

"What kind of noise?"

"Like a pig! OINK!"

Sister needs some breathe right strips!

Bean Dream

Beanie had a dream the other night where Cinderella got bombed by her fairy godmother. I guess she's been hanging out with her big brother too much. Bippittey Boppity BOOM!

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire.

I don't know who these people are who say that after 3 or 4 or whatever it just gets easier. I think they might be delusional, or just lying.

D-Day dedication

In honor of my super sure to be right due date that got moved back over 3 weeks I want to dedicate today to T.U.M.S. because I don't think I could have made it this far today without you. (And don't worry....I said my morning offering so my day is officially dedicated to God. But Tums is a real close second.) How else can I tell the difference between going into labor and nasty indigestion???

t-minus 2 to 4 days

Well, my due date ticker says 2 more days and there's an induction scheduled for Friday at 6am if baby doesn't show up for his or her personalized due date. Oh well, we shall see. It is weird actually thinking I might go into labor on my own in the next few days (I'm one for 4 on that concept so far). It makes for weird planning. I have a plan for the day with the constant caveat- I will do this, IF I don't have a baby. It is just a very weird season.

The momo is painfully aware of some big changes coming her way. She loves the baby and every night gives it hugs and snuggle buggles and a kiss from everyone in the family. Then she finishes her routine by sticking her head in front of my stomach and saying "I want you to come out!" She asks me all the time, "You hold me and the baby when the baby come out?" And I have to explain she will have her turn, can sit next to me, etc but I won't be able to hold them both in my arms at once. But she has taken her graduation to big girl very seriously. If you call her a baby, even in a nice way, she retorts, "I not a baby! I a big girl." And at night prayers during the litany of saints she often insists on saying "St. Big Girl, Pray for us." Indeed....we just might need the intercession of the patron saint of big girls around here.

Pop Quiz- Crazy Pregnant Lady Edition

I am a firm believer that ALL pregnant women go insane at the end of pregnancy in some way shape or form. It is truly universal, I am not trying to make myself feel better. I'm really not. Each pregnancy the insanity has taken a different form, but it has always been there. I will obsess about things, brood, generally walk around mentally confused and often talk to myself. Oh and don't forget the insomnia!

Anyway, here's the quiz.

In the last week what weird things have I done?
A. Reorganized my bookshelves by splitting them into hardbacks and paperbacks and then placing them on the shelf by genre.
B. Bought multiple desserts at the grocery store and consumed them furtively, only to be caught by husband eating my second dessert after dinner while writing a blog post.
C. Called up a publisher to track down a book only to discover my all time favorite book is now out of print. Proceeded to lecture the poor man on why the book was desperately needed and then threatened to buy the publishing rights.*
D. Bought 3 copies of the book in question off of ebay.
E. All of the above.


*without first consulting my husband.

I sense a pattern.

Step 1- Try to do a lot of work because I am behind.
Step 2- Get dehydrated and get contractions. (did I mention it is still 100 degrees? GRRR)
Step 3- Sit down and drink tons of water, thereby getting behind.
Step 4- Get contractions from having to go to bathroom due to tons of water drinking.
Step 5- Go to the bathroom and rest some more.
Step 6- Cut back a bit on the water so I can stop the contractions.
Step 7- Repeat steps 1 through 6 for the next 5 weeks.

O.bama as theologian

There was a quote from our esteemed president in the WSJ this morning in regard to the budget talks. Apparently during the course of the negotiations he started using a phrase from sort of catholic VP Bi.den- "There's no point dying on a small cross." Thousands of people will read those words today. I am sure most won't even think about them short of an implicit agreement. But think about it....the President and VP couldn't be more wrong.

I know the quote was in reference to budget talks and I understand that negotiations are negotiations but I couldn't help thinking of all the times when I have given in to that advice to the detriment of my family, my friends, or myself. If there's no point dying on a small cross then there's no point is smiling when I want to frown, keeping calm when I want to yell, or sticking to my prayers when I don't feel like it.

St. Therese of Liseux and St. Josemaria have wrote many words on this topic more eloquent than I ever could. Look them up. But the point is really to ask ourselves how could we be ready to die on a big cross, should it ever come to that, if we can't do it in the little things? I think it is so easy for us to think, "Oh, I could never do something like X"....but is that really true if we aren't denying ourselves in the little things? I know for myself the honest answer is "no".

Fast Friday (because I am too busy for the real thing)

1. Toddler grammar never ceases to amuse me. Good thing too because it won't be letting up around here anytime soon. Momo's current favorites:
"Please you help me."
"Please you get me water."
"Get down me please."
and switching up "d's" and "b's" is the best. So "diaper" becomes "biaper" etc.

2. Speaking of Momo I am not sure if I have mentioned that she is obsessed with her dad. Literally. She follows him around when he's home, wants to know where he is all day, and is excited because "Daddy on vacation!" means she gets to see him.

3. I have pre-vacation OCD, and it isn't pretty. It is a real disease, just ask my husband.

Little Miss Sunshine

Someone has been hearing her mom complain about Bubba's fireworks keeping her up past her bedtime!

Tonight as our annual neighborhood "show" got started for the second night in a row Beanie rolled over after a particularly loud run and stated matter of factly, "Somebody has been drinking too much alcohol!"

Rebel Mom

Can I make a confession?

I hate Vacation Bible Schools, and youth masses, and christian rock music too. I am not even sure how I feel about youth groups, although I know they are invaluable for some kids. I actually think I would love youth ministry because goodness knows I can get all fired up about stuff and I think kids appreciate authenticity. I just don't like certain approaches that I saw growing up. I don't know anything about my current parish youth group except that the people who run it love God immensely and are true servants of the Church. But I have to admit when the bulletin runs testimonials from youth conference attendees about being given "the gift of tears" I get really uncomfortable. I worry that there is a trend in youth ministry that relies too heavily on emotions and feelings.

Only since moving south have I realized how much of an "outcast" this makes me. Ok, I am not an outcast, but I certainly have a difference of opinion on this matter with many of my favorite faithful catholics. I always sort of demurred along the lines of "Oh Gee, it really isn't my style". But then I happened upon this article and it really bolstered me and made me more confident in my opinions. Read it.

http://catholiceducation.org/articles/history/world/wh0105.html

And of course, in five years when I have a teenager he might be the next Michael W. Smith or something and I will have to eat my hat. But I can assure you that before then I will have introduced him to classical music and all sorts of modern music that is "appropriate"!

Summer is going awesome...sort of.

It is 5pm.

The sprinklers are on, because I was just too tired to take them to the pool in the heat late and we spent the morning with workmen at the house.

Spaghetti is cooking, pantry style, because I was too tired to take them to the grocery store.

The 2 year old is on the back deck in her birthday suit because she got wet from the sprinklers and didn't like it. Thank goodness for fenced in yards.

2 hours till baseball practice and 3.5 till bedtime!

Delusions of Grandeur

Beanie, the 4 year old, is in the wedding obsession phase of life right now. I don't think I ever went through this phase, but my daughters seem to. Anyway, she's obsessed with the fact that she's never been a flower girl and doesn't have any immediate prospects either.

"Mom, when am I going to be a flower girl?"
"I don't know Beanie. I don't know anyone getting married."
Audible sigh and eye roll from her. "That princess should have asked me!"

You know that princess of England? That one. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised considering that Beanie talks regularly of wanting to be a princess when she grows up. I feel like I must have done something wrong somewhere! : )

No B.S.!!!!!!!!!!

I am a sucker for a modesty discussion on a blog. I feel VERY strongly about modesty when apparently the whole world does not. I want to scream when I see young tweens and teens dressing like hoo.kers. (Can I say that in a family blog? Oh well, I just said BS)
Now, as background you should know I love being on the anti-bikini bandwagon. The other day I supported an older mother whose daughter was complaining to me, in front of her mom, that her mom wouldn't let her wear one and her jaw dropped when I said her mom was dead right. I think the daughter somehow thought that because I was younger I would be on her side. Sorry kid, I speak truth to power on this subject when ever I can.

The other day I was shopping at a resale shop for a suit for Biki and the lady kept pushing "inappropriate" swimwear to me. "But look, this one is so cute and it's Li.ly Pulli.tzer, even if it is a midriff baring one!" Like I am going to lower my standards because its a freaking designer suit. Anyway, I finally had to set her straight, lovingly of course, that I was the type of mother who would never let her daughter wear a bikini EVER when she lived under my roof. Yes, I said that. And then I heard another lady start going "Woot, Woot! Me too!" in the next aisle. It was hilarious. Then she said the saying in her house was "Modest is hottest." Ok, not exactly what we're going for but I appreciated that moment of solidarity. I can't understand why it is ok to wear something to the pool that you would NEVER, EVER, answer your front door in. Oh wait you mean people just don't normally walk around in their undies? But I digress.

Getting back to the title of this post, I was recently reading a post by a mother agonizing about whether or not to let her daughter wear a bikini. Why people agonize over this, I don't know. Perhaps because my 4 sisters and I emerged unscathed and empowered from a no bikini rule that I have no problems with enforcing one. This post was tortured in nature, and I didn't comment. BUT I saw the most awesome comment about a modesty rule that I wanted to share with you, my 10 dear readers. Are you ready?

THE RULE IS NO B.S.!
*No Bellies Showing
*No Bra Straps Showing
*No Breasts Showing (i.e. cleavage)
*No Backsides showing
*No Bums/Bottoms showing

THIS IS PURE GENIUS! I am totally stealing it and promoting it. The mother also said she strove to balance the rule with cute shoes/ accessories/ coverups for the pool so the girls still felt trendy. LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!

That is all!

Just one of the kids....

My 6 ft 3 inch brother came to visit this weekend with my parents. The best part about having a "baby brother" is that my children really think that he is one of them. They chide him for taking more breakfast sausages then they are allowed to have because "Kids only get two!". They wondered if he was old enough to "stay at home by hisself." And they use phrases like "we" when talking about childhood adventures because they consider him to be one of them.

I hope he isn't offended, it is just their of way of showing acceptance! The best part was when I told them to prepare that he'd be sleepy after just finishing exams. All they wanted to know was whether they could put Bean.ie Bab.ies all over him just like he used to do to me when I would pass out on the floor from post exam exhaustion. Ahh...family traditions.

Man oh Man!

My little friend Momo has this most hilarious habit involving the frustration of her will to dominate the world. Whenever she is told something the conversation always goes something like this:

"Momo, we can't go outside right now."
"OH, MAN!"

You really have to get the inflection, I will have to post audio.

Sanity Fail!

Taking four children to S.ams.Club right after school. I even gave out cookies in an attempt to keep the 2 year old in the cart. If you were theer and heard an angry toddler screaming on every aisle about the fact that she wanted to use the "baby potty" in the family restroom, yeah, that would have been us.

The Limits of Christian Charity?!?!

Let's face it. People are quite rude, I am quite rude, my children can be quite rude. Usually, I try to grin and bear it and think the best when someone snorts at me in the grocery line or harrumphs in church. But lately, I have been tested in ways I never thought possible.

Why? My burgeoning belly has begun to elicit the most ridiculous and rude comments and inquiries imaginable, particularly when I am out with my entire brood. I guess even down here in the South where 4 children is fairly socially acceptable 5 somehow surpasses the bounds of decency and they forget all about those manners their mommas drilled into them. Admittedly, my hormone surge makes me a little more ornery than normal. To quote a beloved cousin in law's term, I am a "grumpy pregnant woman." And perhaps, oh just perhaps, there's a tad bit of trepidation concerning the pending expansion of our family and my belly. BUT COME ON PEOPLE! THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK! If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. I generally answer something like, "Oh hahahaha, my husband and I are both from big families and we know what we are getting into!" or "We'll see what God gives us." But those answers don't satisfy people. They seriously want numbers, ages, college savings account balances. It is out of control.

It has really gotten to the point that I have had to contemplate that being "truly pro-life" means not slugging or killing the next person that asks me if I am "done." I know, deep down, that most of these people don't mean to be rude, they are just generally curious about it, like we're a circus sideshow or something. It is really the comments from fellow churchgoers that get me the most.

So, in the event I lose the ability to control myself here's my plan on how to answer these constant inquiries. My options:

a)Quote my friend's husband and say, "We'll stop when we get an ugly one!" That's the nice, funny answer that totally avoids the issue.

b)Quote my aunt's friend with a comment like, "Well, gosh, I don't know. How many do you think I should have??" and then stare at them blankly. And then if they still don't get it ask them exactly why they stopped at (insert number here) and if they were done. Sadly, I don't think throwing the question back at them would really get my point across.

c)Tell them I am single handily trying to save Social Security by increasing the number of future workers.

c)Get a belly tattoo with the quote "responsible parenthood is exercised, either by the deliberate and generous decision to raise a numerous family, or by the decision, made for grave (serious? You duke it out!) motives and with due respect for the moral law, to avoid for the time being, or even for an indeterminate period, a new birth" from 10th paragraph of Humanae Vitae which I will then flash at people when they ask me about my future plans. I will then remark, "this is how we are living responsible parenthood" and add a really charitable "Take that you nazi cow!" (Did I mention this is really, really getting to me?)

Cynic.

I am fairly certain I am the only female in the free world who really doesn't care about the royal wedding. Sorry, I was never into the princess thing as a child and I have a daughter whose greatest ambition in life is to become a princess. So guess what? She doesn't even know about the royal wedding. I just can only take so much princessness. She doesn't need to be fed anymore. If she needs therapy when she's older, I will spring for it.

Because I am one of those people who only posts cutesy kids stuff.

And I am ok with that, really.

* The other day we went past the infamous restaurant H, double o, you probably can figure out the rest. It seems that emergent readers just can't resist sounding out the letters of the bright orange sign. Biki immediately sounded it out and asked, "Mom, what's H ** #@&$?" Oh Bik, it isn't an appropriate place. "Is it for kids?" No. "Is it for adults?" No. "Who is it for?" No one should go there, Bik. It isn't appropriate. "Well, who is it for?" "Jerks" said her big brother, who sounded out the same word about a year and a half ago. Lest you think anything at all get past kids.

*Beanie asked the other day, "Mom, how did God make himself?" He didn't Biki. He's always been here. "Well, who made God?" Nobody made God, he's always been. "WHAT THE....?" she replied.

Let the dreams begin....

Psycho pregnancy dreams have begun in earnest. We're talking crazy stuff. Weird fights between P and I about stuff that never happened but I wake up in the middle of the night mad as a hornet. Then there was the one with an acquaintance at church adopting 10 children from New Orleans. And our Vietnamese associate pastor carrying twin boys, blond with blue eyes, in one Baby B.jorn. The weirdest thing about all this is that I remember these things vividly. Don't tick me off anytime soon I might end up doing something awful to you in my dreams. Bwah hah hah hah haaa.

Not getting it....

The Momo edition.

*CRASH! BANG! "Not me! Not me!" says Momo before I even have time to ask who did what.

*She got ashes today. She gave the poor woman a dirty look after the deed but said nothing. We got back to the pew and she promptly went into my purse, got out a wipe and wiped off her forhead multiple times. Once she wiped it clean she gave me a dirty look and smirked as if to say, "I showed you people!"

Rant

Dear Snobby Overpriced Chain Women's Clothing Store,

We used to have a good relationship. I would go to you and spend a lot of money and you didn't mind that I brought my kids. In fact, you had a kids bench with toys and books in your dressing room. But now the price of an embellished t-shirt has risen to $40 bucks, yes forty bucks, and my kids are no longer welcome. Don't think I don't notice that no one greets me when I walk into your store with a toddler even though there is no one else there. Or that no one, once, speaks to me or asks me if I need help the whole time I am there. OR, to make matters worse, you did greet and help other people who came in after me. I heard your online maternity line is cute, but you guys must really not get your demographic if you are going to treat mothers like dirt in the store. I will go elsewhere thank you very much.

That is all.

Testing

Some awesome audio... because you know we don't do pictures on this blog!

Let me 'splain....no it is too much. Let me sum up.

In the past week:

*The car got stolen because there are bad people AND I am an idiot who leaves spare keys in the glove box.

*The car came back to us after being rifled through and driven across town.

*I had to go down to the county police complex and spring my car. Brought the two little girls and was waiting around reading signs like "We accept s*x offenders on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays for Processing. No s*x offenders on Tuesdays and Thursdays." It was Wednesday. I was scared. The girls couldn't understand why I was so cross. "Get right over here and sit next to me. NOW!"

*I had my locks rekeyed in the house.

*I had to tell the locksmith "I know it looks like my house was ransacked, but it wasn't. It has just been a bad week."

*I haven't folded a single piece of laundry. Every day we just rifle through it looking for what we need. I wonder if there is therapy for this.

*I told me husband we had to announce number 5's pending arrival because wearing fat pants is not cutting it. "Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, looking like a fool with my pants on the ground." I need to bust out maternity clothes a full 7 months before the due date. Wowsers.

*Have had all 3 big kids come up to me, stick their faces in front of my stomach and talk to the baby. It's real cute and you realize how excited they are.

*My son is ecstatic at the prospect of a *possible* brother. Every time he sees me, he comes up and greets his "little friend" as he call him/her.

I've created a southerner...

Momo has only known the South. I guess it is entirely natural then that she has picked up the southern dialect.

"Momo, can you come here please?"
"Yessss, mam!"

She says it all the time and every time it makes me laugh.

Stop the madness.

My relationship with Valentine's Day is ever so complicated. This stems mainly from the fact that my husband HATES Valentine's Day, and as much as I want him to want to do the dishes (to quote a movie trailer- from a movie I never saw- that I find to be an apt description of male/female relations on occasion) it really isn't worth it! Besides, I really don't like what Valentine's seems to have become anyway. So, to content myself with the status quo I just go about celebrating the anniversary of the founding of the women's branch of Opus Dei. Thus, I get my treats, the kids get theirs, and everybody's happy. But today, I was reminded of how crazy V-day has become. I was in Sam's Club and some young guy was trying to get the butcher to cut him a piece of beef in the shape of a heart. You should have seen the look on the butcher's face as he said, "You want what?!?!"

Stop the madness and make the heart shaped meatloaf like I am going to next year!

P's working so excuse me while I go help myself to some chocolate! HAH!

22 months!

Today Momo is two months from being two, but for all intents and purposes she already acts like a two year old. I should have known after she refused to come out during the first induction attempt that I had a feisty one on my hands!! Her absolute favorite phrase is "I don't know" pronounced with various inflections and sounding more like "I dohn nho". It is her response to pretty much every question.

Momo why were you playing with knives? I dohn nho.
Momo why did you draw on yourself with a sharpie? I dohn nho.
Momo where is your cup? I dohn nho.
Momo why are you so cute? I dohn nho.

(And for the record she was busted by older siblings this week for both playing with knives- which she got from using a chair to climb up on the counter- and sharpies- which she got from getting a chair and climbing up on a desk- all while her mother was off eating bon bons or something.)

Tonight we were doing a lice check because there is yet another infestation at school. (It is called a nit comb people- use it!!!) I checked everyone and she insisted on beign checked. Multiple times. She would cry "Me lice. Me lice! Me lice!" after I stopped in an effort to get me to check her again. Here's to hoping that phrase doesn't start getting used in places like church and the grocery store.

Momo-isms: The First Installment

This post is long overdue but I just wanted to chronicle the life and times of Momo, toddler in residence. Momo is a busy, busy little bee. She is into anything and everything. Just last night we were all getting ready to go to the Conqueror's first confession when things got dangerously quiet in my closet of all places. We found her covered in foot powder and she had dumped a half a bottle in one pair of shoes. Ahhhh... life with toddlers. She's talking up quite a storm. She even sings. Her favorite little song is "Happy Jeez" which is, I believe, supposed to be a short form of Happy Birthday Jesus from Christmas time, but I don't know for sure. She'll just walk around singing it. And to balance things out she also walks around the house karate-chopping and saying "Hi-YAH" as well. She loves "Gogs" a/k/a dogs and to "read" and play the "Wee" where she waits patiently for her turn with the controller on Friday nights. She asks where the big guys are all day....you can hear her talking to herself "Biki....kool", "Dad- whrork" etc. She also calls the Bean "me" which makes for some interesting conversation decoding.

Good wife/ Bad wife

The good wife offers to change her day's plan to take her husband's car into the shop, get all the necessary services done, go the extra mile and fix something that's broken and get it under warranty.

The bad wife wrecks her husband's car in the afternoon on the way to pick up the kids, thereby saddling her family with hundreds of dollars in expenses, the aggravation of needing a rental, and not to mention higher insurance premiums.

The good husband takes this all in stride very graciously despite his wife's hellacious (sp?) maiming of his favorite material possession. Never a dull moment!

Wordless Wednesday

(From last fall)

SNOW 2011

The first one is to show that two of the pictures were taken by Beanie!! It was really a lot of ice....but hey we're on our second snow day!!