Family Circus

This morning the kids were giving me "good morning" hugs, and after Charles stepped back he said, " You know what's funny about you mom? Your arm pits always smell good."

Daily Diary

Good grief. Where has this month gone! This is the week of good intentions. Basically we are a bunch of slackers over here in kid-dom. Mmm. Now that I look at that and reflect, I think Kid-dumb would be more to the point. We are catching up on a lot of stuff housework and schoolwork, but are not yet caught up. And we leave next week for Florida! I think that perhaps we are going to have to do math flashcards and Greek & Latin classes on DVD in the car. Jon will be so pleased! His personal favorite is the phonics songs CD.

Tuesday night is company night. We had a rather large group. I set the table for ten and was 3 short. What we really need is a table that seats 16 comfortably. Marla, a friend from church, came over and happily fiddled with Jonathan and Caroline for awhile. Shucks, I didn't think to get a picture. She's quite a Jack of all Trades, and has built her own Teardrop, which she took to Alaska. I love Teardrops, and she generously offered to let us borrow hers. I think I'll be taking her up on that!

Wednesdays we have strings lessons and Greek class. Tonight I'm going to take dinner down to Jon's mom's house where some of the clan will be gathered. Then after dinner, I'll head to the sewing room to finish up this huge project.

Must go back to the realm of insanity. Have a good day!

Family Circus

This morning at breakfast Charles was elaborating on some topic to Oliver who listened for awhile and then finally said, "Charles, stop talking to me. You're putting too much brain into my head."

Daily Diary

This weekend was crazy! Friday I got some serious Costco shopping accomplished. The fill up the freezer kind of shopping where you buy meat in bulk, come home and package everything in Ziplocks and then fit it all into the freezer. It was a job that I'm glad to have done. Friday night after dinner, I worked on sewing shorts for several hours. Put in a lot of hems and waists. Grunt work. Saturday morning we were up very early trying to get stuff done. Left at 10:16am for Panola Mtn. State Park. It was a bit more of a drive than we had expected, which meant no time for hiking-somehow Jon was not disappointed about that. We hooked up with Jonathan's orchestra director and his family. Jon grilled brats and hotdogs, and I had made simple things to go with it. The kids played happily, and were sad to go. After that we hustled Jonathan and his orchestra friend Samantha to Myso practice in downtown Atlanta. The rest of Atlanta was there-Jon said something about basketball games-is there a final four?, and it took a long time to get back on the highway! Ugh.

While Jonathan had three hours of Myso practice, the rest of us headed to Jon's parents' house in Dunwoody so I could sew and the kids could play. The kids basically know we love them when we take them to Mormor's-playland and candyland rolled into one. All too soon we headed back to crowded Atlanta, picked up Jonathan, and then drove north to our church for supper. We were finally back home around 9:15- it was a beautiful night. We put the kids to bed and sat on the back patio with a glass of wine, admiring the stars, and just talking. Very nice.

Sunday was the day of Maya's departure. Unfortunately, Caroline, the shiba rescue lady, could only take Maya at 11am. It was incredible the load of dog accoutrements we had! Caroline immediately guessed the breeder where Maya was purchased-Free Rose Farm. Apparently, Shibas are notoriously bad with kids and are runners! If they get out the door, there's no getting them back until they are good and tired, even the well trained Shibas. I was annoyed that the breeder had not told us this, and felt better about our failure as Shiba parents. But we lasted almost 4 years, and the first two were very pleasant years. After we bid Maya adieu, Vivian and i joined up with the rest of the family at church.

Caroline's final orchestra performance was Sunday afternoon, and she was pleased that the entire family was in attendance. Generally, Jonathan seems to have Myso stuff on the same day and only one parent comes to Caroline's performances. After the performance in Buckhead, we hustled back to church. Unfortunately, once church and supper were finished, we didn't get home until 9pm. Ugh. These are frustrating weekends. Thankfully, Jonathan, Caroline and I did lots of laundry Friday afternoon-10 loads-folding it all on my bed, while listening to an Eliot Engel lecture on the Bronte sisters-(it was a rather fun way to do a boring job). So we may be tired, but at least we have clean underwear for the week!

Old Mother Hubbard

Meal planning and preparation can be a rather arduous process, not to mention the cost of groceries. Sometimes I wish we could take care of things Jetsons style and pop a pill that equals a meal, or maybe a three course dinner in a piece of gum Willie Wonka Style. Think of the time I would save not dealing with food.

I've experimented with every possible type of menu planning, and by far the most successful was the once a month cooking plan. By Thanksgiving, I was out of free weekends in which to purchase, prepare and freeze all those meals. If I was in the kitchen all weekend, the housecleaning and laundry were not taken care of, which caused problems during the course of the week. Perhaps the kids can get away with running around in a bathing suit for days were it July, but by December that sort of thing is generally frowned. So, meals become a last minute magic show. To the common observer the fridge is bare. After scrounging a bit, some tuna and macaroni surface in the pantry and it's a tuna casserole night. When desperation really hits I fall back on pancakes for dinner. When even the eggs and buttermilk are no more, there's always angel hair, olive oil and garlic.

If only groceries could be delivered to the door, like milk in the 50's, that would really improve the fare around here. Should we skip math and head to Publix. Sigh. We are already a lesson behind, and do I really want to drag six kids through the store. Oooh, look. I just found another package of Ramen Noodles.

Of course, making the list is a whole other saga. When it is finally prepared and put on the back counter, death to whomever moves it! There's nothing that matches the frustration of loading up the car and making a quick run to the back counter to grab the list and ---it's gone!

The sense of accomplishment felt when the menu is organized, the list made, the shopping complete, and the refrigerators and freezer are full is really quite something. Then I find myself on the prowl for whomever might be a menace to my meal preparation and eat up some important ingredient as a snack. Labels on food containers abound: Do Not Eat. Injest and be Shot. My brother gives me a reproachful look. "Gee, Jenn, I just wanted a glass of orange juice." I glare, " it is not breakfast time. If it were, you could have 6 ounces, but certainly not the 12 ounces you just poured yourself. Do you know how much trouble it is to run out for more orange juice mid-week with six kids in tow and three grades of homework to accomplish?" This is the kind of miser I've become.

My husband does regularly ask if he can stop at Publix and get something for me. My mind is not on food. "Nope, don't need anything," I say as I'm holding the phone to my ear and checking a spelling test. " Do we have milk?" He asks. " Ah, no, we don't," I respond. He sighs. " What about OJ." Let's see, are there two c's in occasion, I'm thinking to myself. "Oh, OJ? No, out of that," I finally respond. Back and forth we go, until Jon's got quite a list in spite of my initial, " I don't need anything." Think of it this way, if you'd been home all day long dealing with six kids, would you prefer your husband to come straight home for adult conversation or go grocery shopping?

Enough about the food, think of the dishes! By the afternoon, there's bowls, lunch plates, glasses, bottles and some pots and pans overloading the sinks and counter. Sometimes I feel like a shovel would be most useful in plowing through the carnage.
"What's for dinner, mommy?" How about I just clean the kitchen and we all have a nice hot cup of tea and go to bed. You guys are looking a little fat, let's all go on a diet. SlimFast anyone?

Political Pontifications

I love a sarcastic zinger. It could very well be my favorite genre. Sarcasm sums up the common vernacular of our generation. Let's face it- take a really boring topic, like the life of an average housewife, add some sarcasm, and suddenly people are interested. That's where Ann Coulter comes in. She takes the stiff, frozen chosen mentality of the conservative movement and shakes things up a bit with some facts and a few well laid hilarious comments. She gets the message out there in a memorable and entertaining way. Even Allen Colmes, my favorite liberal, can't help but laugh. So why the bad press from the Christian Right of all people?

The biggest complaint I hear is that Ann doesn't do things in a way Jesus would have. Wow, what a standard. Ann, if you could just act a little more like God, we would approve. Jesus apparently wouldn't use sarcasm to point out discrepancies or problems with the ideologies or politics of another person. What I love about modern day Jesus is that with 20 minutes and a Strongs Concordance, you can have Jesus saying and defending almost anything. If you don't think Jesus was sarcastic, you didn't read the first four books of the N.T. As for belittling people, Jesus turned the word Pharisee, a very well educated and respected member of Jewish society, into a dirty word that is still going strong 2,000 years later. Jesus also liked to point out lots of problems in society using a limited number of words and phrases followed with, " He who has ears to hear, let him hear." Ann Coulter likes to hand out zingers that point out particular problems and hypocrisies within the American culture. The America of today has a thick, leathery, callous for a conscience, and it's going to take something sharp to get through. So she made the following statement "It turns out you have to go into rehab if you use the word 'faggot', so I'm kind of at an impasse-I can't really talk about Edwards." Here come all the arm chair Christians, meaning similar to arm chair Generals, voicing lots of complaints, but they aren't exactly going to roll up their sleeves and plow into the fray.

Surely no one is so obtuse as to think that Ann was pointing out Edward's homosexual lifestyle. Ann was using a single stroke, a memorable one liner, to make many points about our society. Grey's Anatomy, the number one TV show in America and perhaps in the world, just recently had an episode where Isaiah Washington went voluntarily into rehab after calling a co-star "faggot." That of course, would be the most obvious reference Ann was making. As for the rest, he who has ears to hear, let him hear. I guess that won't be the deaf arm chair Christians.

Daily Diary

Would anyone like to come and do my laundry? I typically run one or two loads daily, and then on Saturday the washer and dryer run all day long non-stop. As long as I maintain this, and I don't have three kids wet the bed, we are doing all right. But the last three Saturdays I have not been able to do laundry- so we are drowning in mountains of clothes. Jonathan, Caroline and I worked on it for quite awhile last night, and we didn't seem to make a dent. Winter laundry is worse than summer laundry by far. In the summer you have a t-shirt, underwear and shorts for each kid. In the winter each kid: T-shirt, underwear, socks, sometimes long underwear, pants, shirt, sometimes sweater. So you can see that multiplied by 6 that is a lot more laundry. It's rather demoralizing. Maybe that is because I don't have an actual laundry room. The washer and dryer are simply in the hall that connects garage and kitchen.

For anyone who cares, we've decided not to take Maya to the pound. It would be tragic for her to be euthanized-though I feel fairly certain it wouldn't happen. I took an ad out in the AJC, and sent out an SOS to my girlfriends who've voiced an interest. Two families who were very interested in her changed their mind because...they want a really big dog! There's something I never would have seen coming. I would have thought Maya's small frame would make her more appealing.

Dog Ownership

Nearly seven years ago I made the fateful decision that we needed to buy a dog. Jonathan, our eldest, had developed an immense fear of animals that I was rather concerned about. I had enjoyed a Rhodesian Ridgeback that I owned as a teenager immensely, and rather liked the prospect of a dog ownership.

Not being one to jump into something without proper preparation, I began on a three year journey of dog research. Yes, I kid you not, I spent three years- at random times- digging through the doggie section at the local library. During this time, Charles came into the world followed 18 months later by number four, also known as Oliver. Deciding that 4 was the magic number for children in our household, and having put pregnancy behind me for good, we settled on a breed and called a breeder. Shiba Inu was the perfect dog for us. It had an average life span of 18 years, was impeccably clean, did not bark, was quite small, with the look of a plump little red fox was adorable, was very intelligent, and finally shed only once a year. After contacting a breeder and arranging a general time when we would secure our new puppy, we excitedly prepared for the event- we drove the 12 hours round trip to meet the breeder and inspect the facility, collected equipment and read dog training books. The big day arrived, and we drove the 12 hours again, to pick up our dear little Maya who was about the size of a kitten, fat, fluffy and quite brown. I specifically wanted a red shiba, and the breeder assured me that with time, Maya would be a beautiful and brilliant red.

And so began the descent from the peak of our fondest hopes, dreams and illusions, into the valley of reality where we now find ourselves.

Potty training was quickly and efficiently checked off the dog training list. This dog was super smart and it showed. We felt our dog training muscles flexed, stretched and ready to embark on greater things. On went the training collar and out went the first command "Come". Maya cocked her little head, ears moving like little independent radars, and gazed at me steadily. I tried again, "Come". I was firm. Then as par the instructions in the dog training manuals, I gave a little tug on the leash and thus the training collar. Out from this adorable puppy came the sound of a screaming toddler. She went from calm reflection, to the throws of agony. Jon threw open the back door and hurried out. "What did you do to her?" He asked checking her shivering body. " I didn't do anything, I have no idea what could have possibly happened." Jon touched her all over and then tried to get her to walk. She was limping, shivering, the perfect picture of death right around the corner. I quickly got her into the car and over to the vet.

The vet checked her out thoroughly, and questioned me with equal thoroughness. "Mmmm," he said with an amused twinkle in his eye. " I know what it is."

"What?" I was desperate to know. Had I abused her? Was there a DFax for dogs? " Your dog doesn't want to be trained," the vet said. He stood there silent. Clearly that was the end of the diagnosis.

"What do you mean the dog doesn't want to be trained?" I asked incredulous. This had not been covered in the dog training books. " I mean," he continued," that this dog is extremely smart and she refuses to be trained. There is nothing wrong with her." The vet felt the case to be closed end of story. I sighed, paid $45 with rueful glances at my perfectly healthy shiba who pranced out of the office like a Queen, and I was her humble servant.

I gave up on the dog training. I was insecure with book in one hand, leash in the other, and Maya knew it. Besides, shock of all shocks I was pregnant with number 5, which left me tired and irritable with no desire to spend time training an obstinate pup. Oliver, on the other hand, was completely enamored with Maya. They spent hours in the back yard together, digging up all vegetation and digging holes to their hearts content. Maya didn't put up with anything but calm petting from the other children, but Oliver could pull her ears, yank her tail, slobber all over her face, and she put up with it, and seemed to enjoy it, too.

In Maya's first year of life, I became in gradual stages aware that the Shiba I had researched all those years in the library, was in fact a fantasy shiba. We did not own the fantasy shiba, but rather the shiba of typical dogdom, who shed, stunk, barked, shed some more, was filthy, screamed, bit and barked when bathed, and shed even more. Did I mention the shedding? We had clumps of hair from the top of the house to the bottom. I was vacuuming the entire house daily. We finally had to engage the services of a dog groomer, where Maya faithfully got a grade of C and had to be muzzled for her bath and nail cutting. We made the mistake of initially using PetSmart where Maya picked up a $950 disease. We sighed as we paid the vet bill, reflecting on the fact that she was 2 and had at least another 16 years with us so maybe $950 wasn't a bad investment. We also switched to a nice private dog groomer, where we noticed Maya received a conduct grade of B. Jon decided that they were desperate for business and thus graded generously when he noticed big letters at the top of her chart stating Must Muzzle.

Maya was a hunter of all hunters. She hunted down birds, squirrels, baby possums-nothing was safe in our backyard. I had to give up on feeding the birds, because Maya would go crazy at the window trying to get out and attack. Some stupid thing would walk across the backyard at 2 am, and Maya would bark to go out at the back door. "Not my dog," Jon would mumble as he rolled over in bed pulling the comforter closer. I would mumble, sputter, and think all manner of violent thoughts as I pulled on my robe and went to go let Princess Maya out. Once the thing was dead- maybe 30 minutes later- she'd bark again, and I'd let her in. She then had the nerve to ask for a treat which I of course gave her. I no longer had illusions about who was in charge, and only wanted desperately to get back into bed before the baby woke up to be nursed. Jon was lucky enough not to have the equipment to deal with that, too.

By the time the sixth kid arrived, Gabriel thought her name was dumb dog. She began escaping out the front door, and would never, NEVER come to us. But she would happily go to any and all neighbors. Now this dog is a good dog- or at least I keep telling myself that. But she wants to be the center of attention all the time. And quite frankly, it is getting hugely embarrassing having the neighbors bring back our red furball. So I started handing out bottles of wine to assuage my guilt and their annoyance. This Sunday was the last, and I mean LAST straw. She raced out the front door and despite my efforts, elluded us. Of course the neighbors who caught her are the perfect dog owners. They spent hours every day of their German Shepherd's first year, training that dog, who now walks at their side leashless. Jon went over to their house to pick her up. They commented on her thick coat that needed brushing because it was shedding very badly and she was clearly overheating. I thought darkly that if she didn't want to overheat, maybe she should stay inside the temperature regulated house. As for her shedding, we do brush her, but not daily. The thing sheds enough hair to clothe a lhama. It's crazy. I guess I better have those people over for dinner so they can see that we really are nice people. It's the dog, not us. Really.

The end of this saga is that by Friday, Maya goes to the pound. There are several families reflecting on taking her, but I know that I'm not spending another weekend chasing a dog who's decided that I am not good enough for her. And that is final. Besides, she'd never get euthanized at the pound. I've read tale after tale of people who have tried to euthanize a Shiba and cannot do it, because of the reknown Shiba smile. Who can put a dog under who's smiling at them? And why does this dog smile? Because she knows when it's all said and done, she's the one in charge.

Political Pontifications

Use your voice to defend the rights of Georgians. Here are some bills that need your attention!

No doubt you’ve heard on the news about Mereck’s vaccine for four strains of cervical cancer, HPV, that is transmitted sexually. Did you know that in Georgia, Mereck donated $5,000 to Governor Perdue, $1000 to House Speaker Richardson, $500 to Representative Cooper, and $500 to Senators Balfour and Thomas. That was in 2005. In 2006 Mereck spent a total of $15,500 on Georgia Legislators. And what are these greased wheels going to provide for Mereck?

Senator Balfour has sponsored SB 155 which mandates the HPV vaccine for all girls in the state entering 6th grade. I’m not interested in discussing the merits of the vaccine, or the fact that it has undergone limited testing and could in fact be dangerous to our children. The fact is that it is the sole responsibility and right of parents to decide the health of their children, and especially to decide what vaccines their children will have and when they will have them. This bill aggressively tramples those rights. Our children are not the property of the state. The bill has passed the first committee and has been sent to the Rules Committee which is chaired by none other than Senator Balfour. Governor Perdue also recommended in his FY2008 budget that $4.3 million through DHR be used to buy these vaccines for underinsured children. Why do Republicans continue to trample the rights of our people and promote an entitlement welfare society? If you think that Senator Balfour is overstepping the rights of parents to make health decisions for their children, please bombard his office with phone calls: 404-656-0095.

State Representative Bobby Franklin has written HB 1 which asserts the Rights of the Unborn and points out the trauma and horror of women who’ve undergone an abortion and also the negative effects on society and children as a whole from abortion. Though Franklin has written a similar bill every year for the last 4 years, this year it seems to be getting some traction and attention. Right now the bill is in the House Judiciary Committee. Please contact the members of this committee and exhort them to protect mothers and the unborn.

HB 619 is another way the House Education Committee is attempting to bring a more PC atmosphere to our community schools, but this time under the guise of stopping bullies. It defines bullying in such a broad sense that of course anyone who would voice a contrary opinion or stand up for certain convictions could be prosecuted as a bully. Email me and I will be happy to email you more information on the bill. You can also go to the Georgia legislature website and read it for yourself. Please call 404-656-9210 and ask that the bill be kept in committee.

HB 572 gives the State Government even more power over the business lives of Georgians by mandating that they establish the “living wage” for the State of Georgia and thus dictate the wages employers would be required to pay to their employees if they have a contract with the state. This bill is a complete violation of a free enterprise system and offers a myriad of ways for the government to abuse the employers and businesses of our state. Please call Representative Coan at 404-656-6801 and urge him to keep this bill in committee!

The price of liberty is our vigilance in restraining our government! Let’s get vigilant.

Daily Diary

My garage sale proved to be good enough. I got rid of a lot of stuff and made $200. So that is satisfactory. I have a lot more to get rid of this Friday. Plus the weather will be MUCH nicer. Always a good thing for a garage sale. Today was 54 degrees and very windy. No es bueno. I'm hoping to make enough that I can replace things sold with more efficient useful items without dipping into the bank account. We shall see....
We went to the home of dear friends this late afternoon/evening, and had a wonderful time. We are always a little sad in parting because we only clear the schedule 3 times a year for get togethers being so busy with school, teaching, life, etc. The children all played together quite well. Vivian fell and bonked her head but it seemed to be a little bonk. Head injuries always frighten me- but there was no bump or swollen spot, so hopefully all's well.
Now it is that happy time of the day when the children are in bed and water is boiling for hot tea, and that sad part of the day when you recognize that there is no way you have the energy to finish the massive to do list you started the day with. I remember that the important things were accomplished- the kids were hugged and kissed lots, rebuked enough, friends visited with, my best friend/husband and I had some quality time together, and there aren't any toys on the stairs!

Daily Diary

I've finally gone through the trouble to have a garage sale- but it would appear that my stuff is all too nice, or too much baby stuff. People genuinely want crocks, pottery, old dishes- quite amazing. And these people are focused. They jump out of the car (still running the engine), stride with determination toward the garage, take quick inventory, either pounce on something or leave as fast as they came. I forgot to sell them hot sausage biscuits. I'll try to remember for the next group. Garage salers are fodder for comedians. Maybe after putting on enough of these garage sales, I'll be able to write a character sketch that will do them justice.

Daily Diary

I downloaded the pictures for the March 13th entry, finally. Also, if anyone has an opinion about the new layout, i'd like to hear it. I'm trying to arrange on paper a better way to organize the blog, since right now it is a jumble of things- Once I have what I want on paper, than my tech support (also known as Curtis), can help me figure out how to make it happen. If you don't like the colors, if the text is hard to read, etc., now is the time to tell.

Family Circus

Yesterday morning Charles, Oliver and Gabriel were in the nursery playing. I could hear from down the hall that Oliver was clearly antagonizing Gabriel. Charles came to his rescue. "Oliver, stop bothering Gabriel. Just leave him alone." Oliver responded "But I like to bother Gabriel". Charles sighed and replied," Oliver, if you keep on making Gabriel scream, Mom is not going to be happy. And if mom isn't happy, no one will be happy."

I have no idea where Charles got this saying, because I certainly have never said it before- that's what made it so funny!

Political Pontifications

The following is a short essay I wrote last year on immigration. I'm still hunting for the final copy with footnotes in my hard drive. Once I locate it, I will replace this partial post.

The Initial Immigration Debate

The fact that every American citizen is an immigrant or is descended from immigrants, is probably the single greatest characteristic distinguishing the U.S. from all other countries. To be American was, originally, to be a part of a voluntary melting pot of humanity, cultures, and customs. Our founding fathers recognized the freedom of a voluntary citizenship and declared this to be so as they wrote the substance of our government, and the legislation of 1790 which established the law of early immigration and naturalization.

At the time of the establishment of an Independent American government, most Americans held British citizenship, due to themselves or their parents having been born in Britain. Birthright citizenship under British law was first formally made clear in Calvin's Case of 1608. " Sir William Blackstone, in his Commentaries on the Laws of England had argued that the idea of birthright citizenship was an inheritance form the 'foedal system'- it derives from the 'mutual trust of confidence subsisting between the lord and vassal.' " The Declaration of Independence assumed the liberty of personal consent in citizenship with the well known opening " When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political band which have connected them...." Another offense of the crown enumerated in a long list of grievances was " He has endeavored to prevent the population of the States; for that purpose obstructing the laws of Naturalization of Foreigners." This protest was seen by the Crown as an arrogant denial of feudal rights and authority long established. It is also one of the few points in which American law threw off its English parent completely, and did not revert back to birthright citizenship until the adumbrated passage of the Fourteenth Amendment. Voluntary citizenship established, it was important for the government to declare to whom this advantage was available.

When our government was founded, it was not a recreation of something earlier tried or established. The Declaration of Independence claimed Christian truths, chiefly inalienable rights granted by God. " The object was to assert, not to discover new truths," Madison stated to Jefferson via pen years after the fact. Because America was so diametrically opposed in government to the mother countries of her people, it was crucial that all newcomers " by an intermixture with our people, they or their descendants, yet assimilated to our customs, measures, laws: in a word, soon become our people." And so the quandary stood; to preserve an infant Republic while continuing to allow an influx of peoples completely unschooled in the ideologies and religion that gave it birth.

Following The War of Independence, the population stood at about three million, averaging 4.5 persons per square mile. The U.S. covered an amazing quantity of land and a thriving population was necessary to ensure her safety and productivity. The Fourth Article of Confederation was confusing and inadequate in establishing a rule of law concerning naturalization, but " The new Constitution [ was authorized] to establish a uniform rule of naturalization throughout the United States."

As Congress debated the issue of qualified applicants for citizenship, it was clear that the safety of the Republic and the American way of life was the top priority. Already ethnic communities had sprung up which remained cut off from Americans, where language and customs from their mother countries were retained and protected. James Madison declared " America should welcome the immigrant who could assimilate, but exclude the immigrant who could not readily incorporate himself into our society." Alexander Hamilton echoed these sentiments a bit more specifically; "the safety of a republic depends essentially on the energy of the common national sentiment; on a uniformity of principles and habits; on the exemption of citizens from foreign bias and prejudice; and on the love of country."

The final product of the debates was the 1790 Naturalization Act, which was surprisingly lenient. It left citizenship open to any white, free man with 2 years American residency, who swore an oath of loyalty to the Constitution. Within the next decade the laws would become increasingly strict in the effort to protect our great Republic from the threat of an immigrant population ignorant or unwilling to embrace the principles that gave it birth.

Daily Diary

Photos are still not downloading. I went to my mother-in-law's again after supper. I got about 4 hours of sewing-cut out 8 pair of shorts, and got 12 pair finished except for waists and hems. Tally up to 24 pair of shorts sewn, 24 more to go. I found my time to be improving drastically. I can get a pair put together in 12 minutes. What takes forever is threading the sewing machine and the serger, ironing fabric before cutting out the patterns, and then cutting out the shorts. But after all that prep stuff it is quick work. I'm going to be sad when it is time to get up in 6 hours!

Photo dilemma

My tech support arrived and after 25 minutes discovered that Google Blogger is having a problem with users downloading pictures. Thus, my problem. I won't be posting pictures until the problem is corrected- may take 24 hours.

Daily Diary

Today was a rather busy day. This morning, while some of the kids were practicing instruments, I cleared out a good many things for the soon coming garage sale, and organized/loaded into the car some things for Jon's mom-Baby stuff that she'll make good use of with 15 grandchildren and still counting.

I was in and out of the school room all day- not my preferable way of doing things, but I'm still quite behind on housework because of having the flu, etc. But Jonathan and Caroline were quite diligent and accomplished a lot. Charles and I worked through several things, but didn't get everything done.

I made an appointment for Caroline to have her hair cut, so at 2:30 I loaded up the car with kids and we headed for the hair salon. Caroline decided to give her hair to Locks of Love, an organization that makes wigs for children with cancer. She was really excited about it. I felt a bit of a twinge when the hair stylist cut off the braid, but she looks cute with her new look. I think it took a few years off of her age!

After the shorning of the golden locks, we drove to the home of Janice- a friend from church- and brought her to our house to spend the late afternoon/evening. The weather was wonderful, so we ate on the back patio. Would you believe we saw one fly and one gnat. The gnat died quickly, but the fly was a rather elusive fellow.

My brother Jason dropped in for dinner and brought strawberry shortcake. Everyone was thrilled since mom didn't make a dessert. Family worship ran kind of late, but the kids were really enthusiastic about settling into the big sofa and singing hymns since they'd spent their energy jumping on the trampoline after dinner while the adults chatted.

I took Janice home while Jon put the little people to bed. They needed baths, but I'll have to throw them in the tub in the morning. We just weren't up for it tonight. I can't wait to get to bed, but thought you guys might want to see the pictures, so I've taken the time to download them.

Daily Diary

Yesterday we had a typical Monday- I spend the day organizing assignment pads and dating speed drills/worksheets for the week, while rotating with the kids to help them with various subjects. Vivian has a dreadful cold and spent some hours happy & content, and other times fussy and clingy.

Charles distinguished himself by taking a leak in the back yard. I noticed him in the far corner of the yard from the laundry room window. "Charles!" I said to him in a tone that bespoke you know better. He responded, " What?" in a tone that bespoke I'm the only one out here so what's the big? He did have the decency to blush at dinner when I brought it up.

Gabriel and Oliver spent the day spending a few hours in the backyard followed by some "let's destroy the nursery" time, and then took a nice, long refreshing nap so they were sure to be wild and crazy when Dad got home from work.

After dinner (the 20 minute miracle, meaning, 20 minutes before dinner I don't know what I'm going to fix. Racheal Ray could learn a few things) I left and headed to my mother-in-law's house to continue work on the summer wardrobe. My sewing tally is now 12 shorts done (not including waist and hem) with 4 cut out and waiting. I'll be making a total of 48 pair of shorts- 6 pair from each fabric pattern with 2 spare for the diaper clad people- just in case there's an accident. I think that I'll have enough material remaining to make dolly shorts for Caroline to match all her shorts. But I'll keep it a surprise. Anyway, I got home at midnight and had a cup of tea with Jon before heading to bed.

While I was gone sewing, Jon stayed home with the clan, had family worship and then introduced the kids to a new toy- compliments of some friends who joined us for dinner on Saturday- a robot that says ouch, gases and belches. What more could 4 boys want? Gabriel was TERRIFIED, Charles & Oliver were thrilled, and Jonathan was eager to take over with the remote control but instead was relegated to the school room to finish his homework.

Caroline practiced her cello more than usual in preparation for her finals, meaning hour and a half rather than just an hour. She is about to advance to Book 4 but first must play every song in Book 3 for mom and dad. It took Jonathan 3 seperate performances to get the go ahead. The reward? A new bike.

The Hidden Joys and Needs of Caring for Old People

Old people are an interesting group of people. I'm not speaking here of people who have reached a particular age, but rather those who mentally can't keep up at the speed of life; the ones who have mentally checked out, such as my chidlren's great-grandmother.

There are those whose physical bodies are quite old, but their mind has not yet followed. My great-aunt for instance at the current age of 97, can hardly see or walk, but when I talk to her on the phone, it's hard to believe she's past 50. Great-grandma Hodges is no longer troubled with a youthful mind, and is thus the more interesting person.

I've noticed that she wears a blank pleasant expression at all times. Great-grandma will sit maybe 8 feet from my general person carrying on a monologue while I do various household chores. I've burned my hand, cut a finger, tripped over a basket of laundry nearly falling to my death or at least 2 months of traction- yet her flow of thought and conversation remains uninterrupted and her pleasant expression unchanged.

In the mind of the old, memories become repeat buttons triggered by things such as sitting down to dinner. "That reminds me of the time..." We all nod enthusiastically and pretend we aren't hearing the story for the hundredth time.

Old people think more deeply on simple things they didn't have time to muse on back when they had responsibilities and schedules. At Fernbank in the Great Hall, while I took care of handing out food and managed the general chaos of 7 people having lunch, great-grandma's mind and conversation was consumed by the Brachiasaurus skeleton positioned in all its immense glory before us. What did it eat? How long did it take to digest its meal? How many pounds of food would it consume in any given day? How far would it travel over the course of a life time? I'm not sure that I ever actually looked at the monstrosity beyond it being a general background to the larger scene of field trip chaos. But I responded with what I hoped was a sufficient acknowledgement. " Gee, Mormor (that is her name in the family) I never thought of that," then in a hiss," Oliver do not pinch Gabriel," back to Mormor, " Well I'd imagine they traveled far with legs that big," followed by " no more chips until your sandwich is gone, Gabriel," more in the fashion of ping-pong, than a conversation.

Old people have a very original method of dealing with personal complaints. Foremost in their mind is the desire to be no trouble. Thus, if the food is too salty, one story follows another about once in another time and world there was a salty meal. Or if they're parched, no beverage will be requested, but a long story comes forth, the moral of which is, 'I need a drink.' Rather than say the music is too loud, hands are silently held over ears.

The ultimate joy in being with someone whose mind has gone to a better place-well, there are two of them really-First, great-grandma decides after long hours of exposure that my children are truly perfect. Second, table manners officially become a thing of the past. Conversation continues around bites so big, a truck driver would be proud, while boulder size particles are shot across the table in a fashion reminiscent of bird shot scattering across the bullseye. I find myself covering food under the pretense of freshness, but really so I won't be utterly grossed out by the extra seasoning. Then it hits me, no pun intended, that we have an immediate and urgent need for a bigger table- a much bigger table so great-grandma will have plenty of elbow room on the other side.

Family Circus

The other day, after lunch, Gabriel asked to go outside. At first I said no because he was still in his pajamas, and I needed to dress him. As I looked at him and his downcast expression I reflected on the condition of his pajamas- an orange juice stain from breakfast, a few odd shaped stains from snack and some jelly smeared across one sleeve. "Gabriel, i've changed my mind. You can go outside." He was overjoyed. Not wanting to run to the nursery for shoes, I grabbed his rainboots from the laundry room and put them on him. He clomped out the door happily and i headed to the school room. A little while later I went out back to check on him. He was in the far corner of the yard, in his socks, digging through dirt. "Gabriel, where are your boots?" I exclaimed walking toward him. " I took them off all by myself, mommy!" He was so proud, what could I say to that. So I sighed and went back in.

Daily Diary

As I suspected, as I started feeling better, I had much to catch up on and haven't posted! I think that I'm 100% now, or very close and over this flu and debilitating effects.

Yesterday early in the morning, I hit the floor running. One of those days where knowing what a busy day it's going to be, you luxuriate for a couple extra minutes in your warm comfy bed.But I soon got busy sorting through laundry, unloading the dishwasher, straightening the downstairs and cleaning the kitchen. The cleaning lady was coming. Lest you think that I'm a spoiled suburban wife who never cleans perhaps I should clarify that she cleans the downstairs and my bedroom every other week. What I need? Someone to clean the entire house, twice a week. Then my cup would definitely "brimmeth over".

I packed Jonathan's sack lunch (Classical school on Fridays) and then a picnic lunch for the remainder of us. I checked the kitchen clock and was running about 20 minutes behind schedule. However, I was determined and resolute that I would not don clothes (I was in my bathrobe) until I had showered. Racing to the nursery, I changed diapers and got the four younger kids dressed meanwhile barking out to Jonathan to brush his teeth, feed the dog, put his books in the car, etc., and correcting Caroline's cello mistakes. She was practicing and making horrible timing blunders. Then I raced to the shower- quite literally. 18 minutes later we were packed into the suburban and backing out of the driveway. Which leads me to why I permed my hair two weeks ago- I don't have to fix it anymore! Wash, comb, a little hair gel- wullah!

After dropping Jonathan off at Classical and taking some minutes to chat with some fellow moms, we headed to Dunwoody to pick up Jon's grandmother, Helen. I had failed to feed the three "middle kids" and got everyone biscuits at Chik-Fil-A. Come to think of it, I bought one for Caroline too, and she had already eaten two bowls of cereal. Wow, she ate a lot of breakfast.

The kids ate their breakfast in their Mormor's kitchen- scattering crumbs and happily accepting large glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice from their Mormor. Then they went off to play for a few minutes while Margaret and I discussed my sewing project- summer clothes for all the kids. Realizing that the directions to Fernbank were in my old Directions Diary and thus not with me, I also called and got directions.

After being there for about half an hour I felt that all familiar pang. You know, the one where you wished that you were Mary Poppins, and had not only a fabulous custom tailored dress on, perfect makeup, a sunny disposition, and amazing smile, but that you could snap your fingers, sing a spoonful of sugar and magically all the messes and skirmishes would hop to and put themselves away. Not being in possession of a golden lamp or genie to wish for such a thing, I fell back on the tried and true method. Bark clean up orders to the kids, sweep up the crumbs, wipe off the highchair and table, and hear the "Spoonful of Sugar" music in my head.

10 minutes later, everyone was strapped to carseats, Helen was settled in the front seat, and we were off to Fernbank.
We arrived to a packed parking lot, a front lawn covered with small children and lunch sacks, and no parking spaces! We could have gone to the overflow parking lot down the road, but I ask you? Is this really an option with 5 small children, grandmother, picnic lunch, stroller, and diaper bag? I think not. So I breathed a prayer and decided to hunker down and find something. I just happened to spot a lone place off in a secluded corner that wasn't visible to the normal flow of traffic. Yes, I got my great big suburban in that spot beautifully. I was a little disappointed that the children could not fully appreciate my car parking technique. I put the car in park and under my breath said, "Thank you Lord". You never can tell what Helen will hear as she's 90 and wears a hearing aid, but she heard that and echoed the sentiment laughing.

We piled out of the car and were soon walking toward the building, Vivian strapped to my back, Gabriel with dolly in the stroller, picnic bag and diaper bag "jimmied" to the stroller (it is a small economy umbrella stroller), and the remaining three children happily climbing the usual parking lot parafenalie (mmm- clearly that wasn't spelled right) and leaping off various and asundry items designed to keep Egleston in business.

The front desk lady was great. She took my membership card, did not cast dark looks at Helen who is clearly not listed on the membership card, and quickly printed out the tickets. After getting through the elevator fiasco- really fun. All talking children fight over the privilege of pushing the stupid buttons, jostling each, while I hiss that if they don't want a spanking they better knock it off, elevator doors open, load of people and strollers exit pushing aforementioned obnoxious children into the hall, where some of them get distracted and examine stuffed birds, I get on the elevator with some of the children, and then try to find the wanderers while an annoyed museum employee sighs from the corner realizing that they should have taken the stairs. Very fun. It could very well be my favorite part of the whole outing, but bathroom breaks are the next runner
up-but more on that later. Anyway, our first "stop" was the reptile exhibit which is really quite nicely laid out. I enjoyed it a lot and the crowd of teenagers were very well behaved. After admiring everything with only a modicum of problems, we ventured forth to the grand hall, home to massive dinosaur specimens, and lots of noise. The place was packed with sack lunch patrons covering every flat surface, floor and exhibit bases included. I herded the tribe through to the shells exhibit in the hopes that the crowd would thin shortly so I could get the lunch project tackled.

The sea shells are great, main reason why? They are housed at the back of a large dark room, the ceiling of which is covered in twinkling electric lights (stars). It has a general calming affect on the children, but is the perfect spot to race around without bothering anyone:the mother's best kept Fernbank secret.

After that, we found a table in the clearing (first I gave up on a table, found a chair for Helen, ordered everyone to sit on the floor, got Gabriel out of the stroller, took off the backpack carrier containing Vivian, found my purse and went to buy drinks- after all that, I found the table and relocated everyone). After resituating the clan, I want to buy drinks through the din and sandwiches for Helen and myself. I had run out of sandwich bread- of course!- while packing the picnic. WHile in line behind a bunch of teenagers and a cashier that has not yet taken the cashier training course, Oliver, Caroline, Charles and Gabriel took turns running over to see- was I getting them a drink, would it be soda, someone touched them or pinched them, could they have chips with their sandwhich, did I bring apples- and other sundry questions. Helen sat happily at the table, oblivious to all, gazing in awe at the massive dinosaur. Once weighted down with poorly prepared sandwhichs and drinks, I made my way back to the table, set things down and then went to get the accoutrements to dining with lots of little people. Cups, lids, straws, napkins, extra mustard, mayo, etc. That done I attempted to lay out lunch for each kid, partially unloading the picnic bag on a table too small for two people to eat at, much less 7, and pausing to reprimand someone, give Vivvie her toy back, clean up a mess, or some other thing involved with this chore. Mormor waited, and waited and waited. Finally I realized the problem. "Mormor, you need to just eat because there isn't going to be a pregnant pause for prayer since there won't be a moment of calm in the course of this meal." Her face was unchanged- happy and a bit blank so I wasn't entirely certain that she heard me, but after a few more minutes, she opened her lunch. Once I got the kids "settled", I opened my sandwhich, doctored it with mayo/mustard, and was about to take the first bite ( I was STARVING, having failed to eat breakfast) and Mormor asked for mayo. I dropped the sandwhich and rushed off to get it, then sat down again. Suddenly all the drink cups were empty and the children were sure that death by thirst was right around the corner. So I looked around for a pitcher of water on the waiter table, and refilled cups. This done I again sat, picked up my sandwich- "Mommy," It was Oliver. I looked at Oliver and thought about my options and my need to eat this sandwich, so I responded in my hissing voice slightly modified so Helen wouldn't think I was a complete demon of a mother, " I'm not getting you anything until I've eaten this
sandwhich." Maybe it was the evil look in my eye, but he sat quiet and dejected and waited for me to finish.

This Diary update being sufficiently long, I will give you the Readers' Digest version of the rest. We packed up lunch, went to the kiddie play land, spent some time in the bathroom, drove to pick up Jonathan, went to Costco, went home to put groceries away, drove to Dad's office where I switched cars with Jon and happily bid my family adieu, I raced to a muscular therapy session that I was 25 minutes late for, then met up with my girlfriends for dinner at Maggianos. Aaaah. The joy with which I sat at that Maggiano's table, enjoyed wonderful conversation, and ate dinner without getting drinks, wiping up messes and solving problems.

My children- A portrait in words

Jonathan arrived a perfect first born: beautiful, robust and content. Since we lived in total poverty with the all time bonus of having no heat all winter, it was forty degrees in the house, he was a wonderful gift. He gratified our ego by responding early to commands, learning to read before the age of three, and rarely getting into trouble. The present finds him in possesion of an ample ego, a marvelous sense of humor, an intense interest in history and languages, and an ardent love and admiration for his teacher at Classical School. His two greatest childhood wishes, declared before the age of four, came true in February of this year. They were, to play the Star Wars theme music in an orchestra and to meet President Bush.

Caroline arrived two years later: red, wrinkley and howling. She distinguished herself quickly talking in sentences by age 9 months, and in being the snootiest, most stubborn Queen of the Bad Attitude. Although quite ugly when first born, by six months she was blond and beautiful, and continues to be skinny, petite and prissy. She shook our confidence as perfect parents, seemingly unwielding and unbendingly rebellious. As a two year old her goal was to meet Satan and drive a motorcycle. Not that one goes with the other, those were just her interests. Fortunately around the age of four she asked Jesus into her heart and was utterly transformed- it was miraculous. She is now sweet and mostly sunny, tends toward self-pity, is a good helper and adores her sister. Her sense of humor remains non-existent and she rarely delivers a witty, repeatable comment. She enjoys learning languages and will probably remain a cellist in adulthood.

Now I come to Charles. Charles arrived sweet, content and fat. By age 2 1/2 he still was not talking. He has always been the patient observer and has never liked the taste of most meat. Usually in a good mood, he can be exceedingly stubborn and obstinate if his ire is raised. Charles has decided to be a doctor and takes immense interest in anything related to the human body. Last year he went to the Bodies Exhibit twice. He progressed slowly through the exhibit with his audio tour, listening, observing and constantly concerned that he might have missed something. He plays the viola with equal attention to detail when he is in the mood to play, though on occasion he becomes obstinate and lazy about it. He responds very well to rewards and sticker charts with regard to chores or viola practice. Charles has the special distinction of having a large square head of which he is very pround. His greatest hope is to one day be tall and fat. If he ever sees a tall fat man (fat to Charles just means a thick build) he goes boldly up to him and introduces himself.

Oliver arrived sweet and content, but at 12 months he learned to walk and has enthusiastically terrorized the household ever since. He has a dreadful habit of waking around 5:30 or 6 in the morning and singing at the top of his lungs from his bed whatever song happens to be in his head. His greatest joy continues to be riling up Gabriel. He's passionately in love with Maya our dog. But over the past year this has diminished a bit since Maya has barked sharply at him a couple times. He believes himself to be an amazing violinist and insists on playing with the rest of us- a sound best enjoyed on mute.

Gabriel arrived quiet and easy. He loves to be at home, playing with his toys, and far away from Oliver. He's the first kid to rebel against my musical brain washing plan. I tell each of the children from birth what instrument they will play. Gabriel is going to play the cello, but he insists that he will play the violin. He doesn't get into trouble much, but he whines and screeches often and loudly- a rather annoying habit- and he tends toward self-pity. He has a rather odd penguin walk and is very clumsy. He first crawled at 12 months and finally began to walk at 19 months. He's sometimes called Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde because he can go from happy to screaming tantrum instantly and vice versa. When he is in the "mood", he is charming, sweet and the dolliest of dollies.

Vivian is the exact opposite of her sister. She's big, fat, more a goober than beautiful, at 10 months has no teeth (Caroline got her first 2 teeth at 3 months and had a full set of choppers by 10 months) and she is always laughing and extremely happy. She looks like her daddy in almost every way- her dad is not a goober and has his teeth. If she crawls out of the nursery, she makes a beeline for Caroline's room. Vivian adores her sister and will laugh and clap her hands when she sees Caroline. She is quite the perfect caboose.

Family Circus

This morning at breakfast Jonathan was reading to the kids from the back of a cereal box. Charles suddenly jumped up from the table, and said, " Jonathan, would you please pause your mouth because I really have to go potty!"

Flu

This is truly the most miserable bout of illness i've experienced in at least a decade. I think I did more right after having a baby. At least than I was taking care of a new born. Sinusitis leaves me pathetic for a day or so, then I can at least function with enough over the counter meds.

One thing I've found to be very pleasant is this: When heating a can of chicken noodle soup, I turned the flame to high and sipped from the broth as it was heating. The heat from the flame beneath the pot, warmed me quite nicely and kept the chills at bay as long as I stood thus. I would be thrilled to hear of any other advice.

I've been in bed almost constantly for two days now. When I've taken lots of Nyquil or Advil, I feel good enough to write in this blog, or to catch up on some reading. But with the meds come nausau and dizziness. So then I cut back on the meds and have been listening to a narration of David Copperfield. Should you listen to the story, it is really quite charming. But I would recommend not doing as I have done. Once the story was complete, I decided to google short bios on Dickens which left me feeling rather low and depressed. It would seem that authors lead childhoods of misery, not of their own making or fault, and adulthoods of misery, of their own making and fault. They fix their childhood in their stories, or vindicate their woes in some way (which I certainly don't have a problem with), but seem oblivious to the suffering they could be causing their own children. Mmmm. Back to bed....One things for certain. Once I do get out of bed, my housework will be so backed up that I won't be posting for awhile...

Marriage

Marriage is an interesting source of sanctification. I greatly enjoy watching other people's marriages and always come away with the same opinion. Married people deserve each other. Yes, I've heard it too: "My spouse is so much better than me, I don't deserve her." But this is hogwash said more for the benefit of the hearer than any sort of sincere feeling on the part of the sayer. How do I know this? Tell me, have you ever seen a couple in which one party is completely deferential to the other? Where one spouse shows himself to be the lesser of the two (I say himself as also encompassing herself- the male pronoun includes the female unless the context states otherwise) ? I could enjoy this sort of marriage very much for were my husband to think himself inferior to me- ah, the possibilities- never to lose an argument, always to be waited on hand and foot, never to be the cause of frustration or agitation in my beloved. What a bunch of nonsense. My husband and I definitely deserve each other, to the extent that we are glad we didn't bind ourselves to innocent people in the population, but found each other at a tender age and saved two other people a heap of trouble.

Have you heard it said that opposites attract? I'm not so sure that this is a good long term basis for a relationship. My husband and I have very similar interests, similar moral code, similar love of discipline, structure and schedule. However, our gifts are not equally apportioned. My husband does not multi-task. Let me offer an example: This comes out most strongly when he is driving. Picture this visually. First, he makes his way onto the highway and with no particular impulse or reason chooses a lane. Then he chooses a speed based on I know not what. Certainly not based on the car in front of him or any other car for that matter. He progresses oblivious to the fact that clearly his speed is at least 10 mph. faster than that of the car in front of him. Right before we are on the verge of making our way into the unfortunate driver's backseat, my husband slams on the brakes and looks right and left to see if he is able to pass. Most of the time he is not able to pass, and thus we are reduced to riding the bumper of the car in front of us, enjoying their movie on display for several miles before changing lanes. It is in this way that I learned people do not only play children's DVD's in their cars- because the last DVD I saw was quite inappropriate for children, and I think inappropriate for adults. But back to driving with my husband. I've learned the fine art of looking out my side window and should I direct my gaze anywhere else, it is definitely not out the front window. My husband's driving techniques are best enjoyed blindly. After taking a road trip with my sister and his cousin, the two passengers declared that they were driven practically mad at his methods and would never make the mistake of riding with him in the driver's seat again.

What my husband is very, very good at is focusing his attention on the most intricate or detailed job for literally hours. For me, unless I'm reading or writing a paper, I only undertake jobs that can be done within an hour, and I first reflect on the absolute best and most efficient way to do them so as to limit wasted energy. Perhaps this is because nearly all the duties of housewife fall under things that I'd rather avoid doing. When our laptop crashed and needed a new hard drive, my husband ordered the part and decided to install it himself. I knew that this was a marriage building sort of activity- after our last one which was wallpapering 6 years ago, we decided that we could not possibly afford the marriage counseling those sorts of activities required in the aftermath, and have not done one since. This in mind, my husband's cousin came over to assist. It was incredible. The laptop was taken apart entirely. Little screws and bits littered the dining room table. I passed by a couple times feeling quite sure that at the end of this $200 experiment, we would be buying a new $1800 laptop. After many hours, the laptop was reassembled and turned on in the audience of breathless anticipation. Whallah! It worked. Oh, the look of satisfaction and "I told you so" on my husband's face carried him through right to the end of the week.

The life of a housewife is, shall we say, very predictable. There are weeks where I feel quite sure that I am in groundhog day- and they could have saved themselves a heap of trouble setting up a video camera in my house rather than hire all those expensive actors for the movie. At home, I'm going to change lots of dirty diapers, wash dishes, fold laundry, teach math (Oh, how I detest math), fix meals, and mete out discipline to Oliver. I think this is where my love of camping comes in. Anything can happen. The question is: What did you not prepare for? The sudden catastrophe is a thing of joy for my capable mind (besides the fact that there is a greater limit to "household" chores). Stand aside, I can solve this problem. My husband, on the other hand, likes to be in Ground Hog Day, and dislikes the unexpected, and especially the unexpected catastrophe. He throws his hands in the air and settles into depressed musings.

The magic between us, my husband and I, is our love of the sarcastic, our love of order, our tendency to be completely unimpressed by the other person, and our sense of duty. We both are in the care of an immense ego, which stands out when rebuking one another. If I happen to be in a snit for some unspecified reason and get all huffy, my husband simply says, "Fine, be a brat, see what I care." With the delivery of this phrase, I'm awash in warm fuzzies for this wonderful man of mine. When he is upset about some little thing, all I have to say is, " so be a catered to Hodges brat. Maybe mommy will come take care of that for you," and he quite entirely snaps out of it. When we are really upset about something, we agree in a quite manly fashion, to be silent on the subject until we can discuss it rationally and quietly. We used to average this sort of transaction once a year. Now, we don't entirely remember our last argument, which was nearly two years ago. Perhaps after 11 years of marriage, you've mostly worked the kinks out. I think that our lack of arguments stems from the fact that we both believe ourselves to be the superior of the other, and are thus willing to be a bit generous and accomodating with the other person. Also, because we are the better creature, firm rebukes are not taken too hard but are rationally digested and applied.

The next time you hear someone complain of their spouse, remember- they deserve each other. I guess it is possible that this is not always the case, though I've yet to see the exception. You can tell a lot about a person by the spouse they chose and the spouse they complain of. I have no complaints. I've married a man who deserves me entirely, and I'm quite certain that I deserve him.

Political Pontifications

It hasn't really made that much sense to me, why Bush is so soft on illegal aliens. To me, it is a simple fact of law. If someone is in our country illegally, they must be sent out. The thousands of dollars spent by hardworking people to enter this country under the blessing of the law are rendered moot by the offensive manner in which thousands have crossed the border and laid claim to welfare, education and healthcare without even the smallest slap on the wrist.

Bush has a dream of a North American Union- a merger of Canada, U.S., and Mexico into a cohesive unit that shares all. This dream is becoming a reality. Check it out at SPP.gov. Without the approval or oversight of Congress, Bush has blazed ahead reducing a future United States to a homogenous mixture of the North American Union. How would this affect you? Superhighways are planned connecting our borders which will involve eminent domain takings of private properties. The rights of State and local governments would be trampled. It would dilute the National and Constitutional independence of the United States. Nancy Schaefer has introduced S.R. 124. in an effort to protect our country's soverignty and security.

This is taken directly from the Resolution: "Now, Therefore, be it resolved by the Senate.....use all its efforts, energies, and diligence to withdraw the United States from any further participation in the Security and Prosperity Partnership of North America and any similarly bilateral or multilateral activity, however named, that seeks to advance, authorize, or fund or in any way promote the creation of any structure of relationship to accomplish any form of tNothr American integration or merger."

You can read this bill for yourself by going to http://www.broc.state.ga.us/legis/2007_08/fulltext/sr124.htm

Want to get involved? Call Senator Balfour at 404-656-0095 and tell him to pass S.R. 124 immediately.

Political Pontifications

There are several things that seriously bother me about the Georgia Legislature. First and foremost, our Senators and Reps seem to believe that government is the source of our liberties. Of course, God is the source of our liberties and the purpose of government is to restrain itself and others so that these God given liberties are not infringed upon. One excellent example of this is seen with vaccines. It is almost unfathomable that today state governments are declaring what vaccines children should be given- mandatory vaccines- where the parent has no rights, no say, as to what their child is given. Unless of course, the parent thinks to protest for religious reasons, and even then it is iffy.

After giving birth to our 6th child at Northside, I was told that I could "fasttrack" out of the hospital and leave within 24 hours. I was very pleased with this option and the necessary paperwork was put through the works. One thing my nurse made clear to me was that the PKU prick test needed to be done before we left. I let her know that I would take care of it at the pediatrician's office the following week for this reason: The PKU test, as I understand it, tests for how the baby is responding to a breast milk diet. If the baby hasn't had breast milk for very long, the test is inaccurate and must be conducted again. The nurse was furious that I would refuse the test, and I said that I wasn't refusing the test, I was scheduling it for when it would do the most good. My pediatrician came to my room and encouraged me to have the test otherwise the nurse might call DFax. So, I did the test, and ruefully commented while signing the paper that clearly I didn't have any say about it so why should I sign. I also had to strenuously argue against having my daughter vaccinated, as I start vaccines much later in childhood. Fortunately, I was much more successful at the latter than the former.

I say all of the above as an introduction to Sue Ella Deadwyler's Radio commentary- I have cut and pasted it below...


Sue Ella Deadwyler's WMVV Radio Commentary, 3/2/07


Georgia's one of 18 states Merck thinks gullible enough to add still another vaccination to the shots children already have to take. Merck's new drug Gardasil is the most costly on the market at a whopping retail price of $360 for the first three-shot course and boosters at five-year intervals. Gardasil is supposed to prevent a couple of strains of cervical cancer caused by human papillomavirus, better known as HPV, that causes about one percent of all cervical cancer cases in the U.S. HPV-related cervical cancer is easily diagnosed, responds well to treatment and does not surface until the female is almost 50 years old.

Merck's first success was in Texas where Governor Perry swallowed all Merck's hype and issued an executive order mandating Gardasil for every sixth-grade girl in Texas. Oh, yes, this is important, too. Merck contributed $6,000 to Governor Perry's reelection campaign and generously contributed to campaigns of other Texas officials.

Merck's success in Texas is being used in Georgia as an example of what needs to be done to our sixth-grade girls. Senator Don Balfour introduced S.B. 155 February 14 and I've asked him to please not make it mandatory, but it is. If his bill passes, the only girls that will not be vaccinated with Gardasil are girls whose parents learn about the religious exemption and act on it. Quite frankly, I'm offended that legislators think religion is the only reason to object to filling girls with a drug that's brand new, was researched for less than five years on 25,000 third-world females, only 1,184 of whom were preteens. My question is: What ever happened to common sense?

HPV is not floating through the air where everybody may be exposed. It's caught through sexual contact. So, the way to prevent HPV-related cervical cancer is to refrain from sexual contact with anyone infected with HPV and the last time I checked, sixth-grade girls aren't mature enough to engage in sex and are still under parental authority. Mandating this vaccine violates parental rights, informed consent and privacy laws.

Gardasil's safety has not been proven, especially for young girls. It's been on the market since June 2006 and at least 82 reports of serious side effects have already been filed with the FDA. Texas Governor Perry must've ignored the facts. So, Texas parents are working with legislators to repeal his executive order. The Texas mandate caused such a backlash from doctors, parents and consumer advocates that Merck's pulling back its lobbying efforts. But, that's not affecting us in Georgia. The author of S.B. 155 thinks Texas Governor Perry is right and will continue pushing for all sixth-grade girls in Georgia to be vaccinated with Gardasil.

I dare say most parents do not agree with Governor Perry and object to giving their children an unproven, unnecessary, very expensive and, very possibly, harmful drug. Call Health and Human Services Senator Don Thomas* at 404-656-6436 and ask him to either kill S.B. 155 or amend it to make the shots voluntary. If the state is dead set on selling Merck's drug, at least, give parents a choice because children do belong to parents. They don't belong to the state or doctors or anybody else in the village!

* This bill has since passed the HHS Committee. Call your local senator. If you don't know their phone number, you can look at www.legis.state.ga.us .

Daily Diary

I have come down with the flu. All week I haven't really felt like myself, and last night I started getting a sore throat. But I attributed it all to the need for a good night's sleep and then I'd be fine. After picking up Jon's grandmother this morning (she spends Fridays with me), I headed home and decided that I'd just take a quick nap. By the end of the nap I was much worse- achey joints, back pain, the chills, fever, etc. Clearly this was not lack of sleep. I called Jon at work who immediately wrapped things up at the office and headed home. He rushed to throw the kids in the car and of course his grandmother (whom he escorted not threw). Our oldest had to be picked up from school. So off they all went and then decided to stay at Jon's mom's house for the afternoon and evening so they wouldn't be near me- cootie girl. I emailed Curtis asking if he would get me some flu drugs, and then went to sleep.

I'm a decidedly light sleeper and when I heard the front door open, I awoke. I listened for a moment for the obvious- it's Curtis-noises. He usually comes in and settles things at the dining room table. But hearing none of that, I called out...nothing. Then I heard more footsteps and called out again. Nothing. I was rather unnerved by this development. Were I my usual hyper energetic self, I would have clutched my trusty scissors and ran downstairs to stab the intruder. However, I'm about 2% of my normal self and incapable of such feats- even with the adrenaline. I tiptoed downstairs, clutching the scissors (I felt I should have at least something), and peered around quietly. No one. I opened the back door and stepped out, walked across the "yard" and opened the back gate. Then I went and knocked on the neighbor's door. Everyone was gone. Then I went to Theresa's house and thankfully she was there. I stayed on the front porch and used the phone. Turns out it was Curtis, but he came in and walked quickly through the downstairs to the garage- that is when I called his name. Seeing that the Suburban was gone and not wishing to wake me, he walked back out the front door- I called his name again and was standing at the landing on the stairs and thus failed to see him depart. SHEESH. Thankfully I didn't have to stab him with the scissors, and he is getting me some flu drugs. So all's well.

My Job

I am the chief bottom wiper and bottle washer. Or should I say President of the Request Porcessing Department. "Mommy, may I have a drink? Mommy, where are my shoes? Mommy, when's lunch? Mommy we're not having oatmeal again, are we? Mommy, does God send a helicopter for us when we die, or do we grow wings and fly to heaven? mommy, I know I'm not supposed to hit my sister, but sometimes I just have to." Ok, the last one wasn't a question but it still needed a response.

Many has been the time when my husband has arrived home to the sound of three crying humans while I'm fixing supper with a glazed expression on my face. "Honey, why is everyone crying?" he asks. Crying? I don't know. I didn't hear anyone crying. The survival instinct of tuning everyone out has kicked in.

This instinct does become a bit of a problem when my friend sits across the table from me carrying on an earnest conversation and I realize moments before she wants a response that I tuned her out long ago and have been mentally compiling a grocery list while admiring her impecably applied makeup. Or when I've asked the same person the same question thirteen times. "Mommy, I just told you that." Well, tell me again. Then my pre-schoolers exchange looks that clearly state, mom's losing it. I take comfort in the fact that the phrase 'losing it' presupposes that I had it to begin with.

My all time favorite moment of the day is when I'm in the bathroom and someone invariably knocks on the door. Knock, knock. I turn off the fan. "What?" I ask. "Mommy, can you take my shoes off?" someone on the other side of the door asks. "I'm in the bathroom" (amazing how incredulous can still make its way into my voice. Nothing should surprise me now). " I know, but my shoes are wet," the kid responds. "Oh that changes everything. I'm actually just standing here on the other side of the door waiting to fulfill your next request." Could I get anymore sarcastic? So that kid sighs and moves on. Knock, knock. "What?" I ask, frustration mounting. " Mom, Oliver pooped, I think," a different kid says. "Great, now I know," I respond with a voice that's more a plea for privacy. Knock, Knock. " Whoever is on the other side of that door better be dying!" I practically scream out the words. Silence follows. Beautiful silence.

One part of my job that I genuinely enjoy, is ripping my sleeping children from their beds. This gives me profound, deep joy. I think it's all about revenge, really. I couldn't possibly count the number of times my children have awakened me. One week when a stomach virus was making the rounds, I had been awakened at least twice a night several days in a row. At dinner, I asked the kids why in the world didn't they wake up their dad when he slept on the side of the bed closest to the door. The children gazed at me for a few minutes. Clearly they hadn't really thought about it, but finally Charles came up with an answer. " Dad needs his sleep." I was momentarily speechless. Do I not need sleep? So I responded, " My favorite child is the one who wakes up dad." That night, Charles woke up his father. Ah, that was a beautiful moment.

And then there's the whole issue of friends. Women with a large family are typically close friends with other women who have a large family. Low maintenance friends are a must to the mother of many. Perhaps you've been told by a mother of one, " I've tried telling my girlfriends I just can't drop everything and go out for lunch and shopping on a whim anymore," and you give her what you hope is a knowing look while you realize that the two of you exist on planes so entirely unrelated that at best you can hope for a mentoring friendship rather than a friendship of mutual understanding and support. And let's face it- mentoring is a drain on already low reserves. So when you see a woman rush into church with a brood of 5 all under 7, wearing no makeup, you sigh a breath of relief and know that here is a woman you can be friends with. She'd never be upset if you forgot her birthday. She won't even remember having called you when you forget to return her phone call. Then there's the woman who mentions to you her extreme frustration at being too busy to get her nails done. You do your best not to laugh out loud and mentally move on. Who's going to need a new coat this fall? I wonder if there's chicken in the freezer I can thaw for dinner tomorrow night?

Perhaps you've been told, "it must be so wonderful being a stay at home mom. You don't have to worry about anything." At these moments there's only one thing to do. Breathe in and out deeply with your mouth firmly closed.