The Gift of Youth and Beauty

It's a very Catholic idea. Give God your youth and your beauty. When you see young men and women, in the prime of life, handsome, beautiful, smiling, raidiant with joy, and they give it all up to be united with God as a priest or religious, what do you think? Catholics see it as a gift of something precious and beautiful. Some folks might sigh and say, "What a waste," but Catholics see it as giving it all to God. These courageous, generous men and women have chosen to give everything they have to God. They even give the things we think belong to us alone, like youth and beauty.

Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist 2010 Aspirants (From the Sisters' Web site)

Being Pro-Life

"What does being pro-life mean to you?" the reporter asked me after the annual Respect Life Mass at the cathedral in Denver on Saturday. (Update: read the article here).

How do you answer a question like that? I knew she was looking for a few quick quotes to enliven her article, but the soundbites didn't come rolling off my tongue very quickly.

I stammered a bit then told her that for me, being pro-life meant I was living my vocation as a mother to ten children. I saw her eyes widen and she started writing furiously on her notepad. "Ten children..." (that would make good copy!)

What's Wrong with Feminism?

The Flipside of Feminism: What Conservative Women Know -- and Men Can't Say by Suzanne Venker

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Author Suzanne Venker dares to express the unspoken thoughts of many women (and perhaps an equally large number of men) who have been indoctrinated by the philosophies of modern feminism that something is wrong with the way we view the roles of men and women. What's wrong with feminism? Venker dares to tell it like it is. She gives compelling examples from both sides of the debate using their own arguments to show us how feminism has messed up society and our happiness as men and women by telling us our traditional roles don't matter. Feminism insists women are just as capable of being in the workforce as are men and denies the basic fact that children are happier and better adjusted when they have their mothers at home. Venker masterfully lays out the agenda of feminists and shows how government has taken the place of husbands as providers of families in order to keep more mothers in the workforce. The result has been devastating to children, mothers and the fathers who have been cast aside by feminists who view them as disposable.

The women's movement and modern feminism is nearly 50 years old and what has it gotten us? Higher divorce rates thanks in part to no-fault divorce laws, single motherhood at an unprecedented rate of 40%, and sexually transmitted diseases at an all-time high. Meanwhile, abortion on demand has resulted in the destruction of 53 million lives. That's one-sixth the population of the United States that have been terminated since Roe v. Wade became the law of the land in 1973. To put it into perspective, that's the current combined populations of Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, Hawaii, Idaho, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Mississippi, Montana, Oregon, Oklahoma, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, North Dakota, South Dakota, Rhode Island, Utah, Vermont, West Virginia and Wyoming. Something is wrong with a society that says it's more important for women to continue to live their lives for themselves than to bring new life into the world.

I was raised with the notion that women are equal to men and have just as many opportunities available to them. However, no one told me about the deeply-rooted mother bear that lurked inside me making me feel as if my heart had been ripped out each morning when I'd drop my toddler daughter off at the day care center only to return 8 or more hours later and see her still crying and alone in the corner. My protective instinct wanted to whisk her away from the child care professionals who insisted she only needed to be "broken in" and everything would be fine. When her brother was born, my biology told me my baby needed to nurse, and sitting in a bathroom stall trying to express milk, while he was miles away with another mother being paid to care for him, wasn't going to cut it. I was convinced my children needed me home more than the Navy needed me, so I resigned my commission with all the perks and benefits of being an officer, in order to stay home and change diapers, coax children to sleep at naptime and be there when they awoke.

This book has challenged me to re-think some of my long-held beliefs that women and men can and should do the same things. My own experiences as a wife and mother of many children, along with recent scientific studies that show the significant differences in male and female physiological and psychological make-up, tells me the differences between males and females are far greater than our sexual organs.

This is an important book that should be read by all parents and educators.

View all my reviews

A Feminist Critique

Official Navy recruiting poster

I'm a recovering feminist. I used to subscribe to "Ms." magazine. I used to have a t-shirt emblazoned with the motto, "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle," and I actually believed it. I was going to have a career in the Navy and if I ever did get married (which I probably wouldn't) or have kids (which I probably wouldn't) I would have someone else do all the mindless domestic chores, the "woman's work," which the feminist movement told me was so demeaning to me. If I played my cards right, perhaps I could marry a docile man who would support my career and stay home to take care of the children that I probably wouldn't have.

Some who know me peripherally might think I'm still a feminist. Although I left the naval service a long time ago to become a stay-at-home mom, I recently earned my black belt in taekwondo. I'm an expert pistol shot (or used to be). I can hammer a nail straight. Yesterday I fixed a toilet.

I believe in the equal value of women in the workplace, government, and society; just laws that give equal protection to women; and instilling in our daughters the motivation and desire to succeed academically and professionally. I believe women are just as smart as men and are capable of handling stressful and difficult situations just as well as men.

Me as a plebe (first year midshipman), c. 1981

But don't call me a feminist. Feminists are angry with men and believe the root of all evil in the world is caused by men. Feminists preach that women must be free from their biology and be like men in order to be valuable members of society. Feminists are so obsessed with being like men that they have euphemisms like "reproductive rights," which actually mean the opposite of what the words mean. They don't want the right to reproduce; they want the right to avoid reproduction. They assist men in being irresponsible for their behavior by giving them an easy way to avoid paternity.

The growing problem of pornography in our culture proves that women are still exploited and are more vulnerable to sexual exploitation than men. In feminism's refusal to acknowledge the differences between men and women, they have contributed to this problem.

Men are no longer expected to be the primary breadwinner in a family, since women are just as capable of bringing home a good salary as men. In fact, men have become the disposable part of a family today as many more women are choosing single motherhood to fulfill their need to become mothers without the burden of finding a suitable mate. (In some cases, there just aren't marriageable men around. As the ratio of women to men on college campuses nationwide nears the 60 to 40% ratio, fewer men are choosing higher education and are instead choosing to live in their parents' basements playing computer games.)

No wonder so many men are jumping on the feminism bandwagon.

My evolution from feminine mystique to feminist critique came to completion with Motherhood. I was determined to bring up my boys without gunplay or violence. Despite my navy experience as a 45-caliber pistol instructor, I didn't own a gun and didn't want them in my house...even play guns. Yet my little boys made guns out of everything. Sticks, Legos, toothbrushes. You name it, they shot, fired and exploded it.

It wasn't just the gunplay that confounded me. I began to notice they'd go into zombie mode whenever flickering images were near. They would throw hysterical tantrums when I'd shut off the television. They've outgrown the TV tantrum, but they're still prone to computer gaming addiction. This has never been a problem with the girls. They might spend hours on the computer, but it's because they're on Facebook chatting with friends, not playing computer games. Though not the stereotypical girly-girl frills and laces types, the girls are more relationship oriented than the boys. Friendships are critical to their well-being. They're more sensitive to the feelings of others. I didn't do anything nurture-wise to make my boys and girls behave differently. They're just wired that way. (Dare I say, God made them that way?) Scientific studies confirm what all mothers and teachers intuitively know: boys and girls are wired differently.

The Wall Street Journal published an article on May 4, 2011, which said the tears of men and women are profoundly different. A study on crying was conducted by Ad Vingerhoets, a professor of clinical psychology who focuses on stress and emotion at Tilburg University in the Netherlands.

It turns out women are biologically wired to shed more tears than men. Men have larger tear ducts, which means women's tear ducts fill up and spill over more quickly than men's. Testosterone can also help put the brakes on crying, which may be the reason older men tend to cry more often than younger men. Tears are full of hormones and proteins. One of the hormones in tears is prolactin, which is a lactation catalyst. Young women have 50% - 60% more prolactin in their bloodstream than young men do, which could also explain why women cry more often than men. In other words, it's not all social conditioning.

Dr. Vingerhoets conducted a project in 37 countries to compare the different rates of crying among men and women. Women in developed Western economies cry much more than men, and much more than women in societies where women have fewer rights, he says.

As to why women in developed countries cry more often than women who have fewer rights, my theory is that women who are infused with modern notions of feminism are so conflicted with competing roles of breadwinner, nurturer, and swimsuit model thinness that they cry more often. After all, modern feminism's mantra has always been that women can "have it all." Having it all has come with a price tag, which is the loss of true femininity, which values women for their femaleness, not for how much they can be like males.

During the five years I served as a naval officer I got married and had three children. I no longer wanted to be a career woman because I felt I wouldn't serve my kids well if I was serving my country. I wanted to give myself totally to my vocation as a mother. When I resigned my commission as a naval officer, I had to write a letter explaining my reasons. I remember writing something about having to make a choice between being a good naval officer or being a good mom. I knew there were lots of people who could fill my shoes as a naval officer but I was the only one who could be a mother to my children. It was an easy decision for me and one I've never regretted. We've since added seven more kids to our family and I've had the privilege of homeschooling them all. I never could have done that if I'd stayed in the navy. I'm thankful for the generosity and support of my dear husband whose tireless devotion to his family enables me to stay home and take care of the kids. In some ways, I feel like I really do have it all.

embracing true feminism

Quirky Olympic News

Yahoo sports reports:

As with all curling teams, Team Canada features five members. Well, six, if you really want to get technical with it.

Alternate Kristie Moore, 30, is 5½ months pregnant, making her just the third athlete known to be with child during Olympic competition. Ninety years ago, Swedish figure skater Magda Julin won a gold medal at the Antwerp Games while in her first trimester and Germany’s Diana Sartor took fourth in the skeleton in 2006.

Though she is showing (as evidenced in the picture above), Moore says that her pregnancy has not affected her ability to deliver rocks ... yet. "[In] the eighth month or so, that might be an issue," she said.

Moore found out about her pregnancy weeks before team officials invited her to join Team Canada as an alternate. When she divulged her secret, the team was more than supportive. Said team leader Cheryl Bernard, "she is young and fit. There's no reason we'll have any problems, and she'll be out there."

Notice the sports writer doesn't have any problems with including the unborn child. Guess it's not "above his paygrade" to do so.

*****************************

On other quirky sports news fronts, Catholic homeschooling mom of two and former Olympian Rebecca Dussault, may not have made the 2010 US Olympic team but she has won the gold at the 2010 ITU Winter Triathlon World Championships in Oslo, Norway earlier this week! This is the first time in the race's 14 year history that a non-European has won. As a result, when she took the top spot on the podium, the race announcer reported they didn't have the Star Spangeled Banner on their CD! Unphased, Rebecca belted out the song with her hand over her heart, joined by her coach and teammates, even continuing to sing while the second and third place finishers, the Russian and Norwegian left the podium.

Yay, Rebecca! You can bet they'll have the national anthem spooled up next time!

Going Gray Gracefully

Or, "It's Great to be Gray!" Well, at least it used to be, back when the alternative was death.

Earlier this week I was in the orthodontist's office with Edmund (and when I say "earlier" I mean "earlier." It was 7:30 in the morning.) As I was sitting in the waiting room, trying to pretend the instant chai in the orthodontist's office was as good as a Starbuck's Chai Latte, and wondering if I should pick up and read the skanky magazines that shrieked, "Brad texts away while Angelina has torrid affair with cell phone salesman," and "Octomom shows off sexy new bod," or just get out the knitting I brought with me, I couldn't help but overhear the three women talking behind the receptionist's desk.

"Women should never go gray. My mom is 79 and she only has a touch of gray. Whenever I see any gray hairs, I'll pull them out. If I get more, I'll definitely cover it up."

"Did you see that woman? She was too young to be gray! She had two young children. And she wasn't even wearing any make-up!"

"My husband would never stand for that. He told me so."

"Men look distinguished when they're gray. Women just look haggard."

I tried to sink into my chair without spilling my overly sweet and chemically enhanced faux chai, thinking how stupid of me to not put on any make-up this morning before our early morning trip to the tooth-straightening guy. But the longer I sat there listening to their catty remarks about other women, the more I thought this was unfair.

It's unfair that men should be allowed to go gray, nay, encouraged to go gray, for that added look of distinguishment, a la George Clooney, while women are told their looks must be perpetually youthful and glowing, otherwise they are fodder for office gossip and snide remarks.

Even some Catholic ladies are getting into the spirit of "looking good," some positing that it is the duty of the wife to look lovely for her husband after he's been slaving away at work all day. There are Purity Fashion Shows, which are supposed to promote modesty, but I think they sometimes can promote the importance of outward beauty so much that some girls may feel intimidated. Not everyone can look like a runway model, but that is the sort of look most girls crave and society reinforces.

I believe true beauty radiates from the inside. Just think of someone you know and love who might not meet all the world's requirements to be considered "beautiful." But you see that person and you see beauty, right? To be truly beautiful, we need to be at peace with who we are; be "comfortable in our own skin," as some might say. Then we need to love and accept others. I think that is the big key here. Mother Teresa wasn't ever going to make the top 100 list of the Most Beautiful People in the World, yet she was beautiful. She was beautiful from the inside out. Beauty radiated from her being and people responded to that. People flocked to her because they saw her beauty--which sprang from her Love. Because she loved, she was beautiful.

I don't know if Mother Teresa had gray hair or not. But does anyone really care? I would rather have a dose of her beauty than a lifetime supply of hair coloring at the best salon in town.

Daily Conversion

The conversion on the way to Damascus, by Caravaggio.

"Conversion means a willingness to see the truth of things and conform one's conduct to it." ~A. Sertillanges.

Today is the Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul, Apostle.

The feast day and the above quote, which I read in today's Magnificat, got me thinking about my own conversion story and my daily conversion. It's not enough to say "I am a Christian," but as a follower of Christ, I am compelled to daily turn my thoughts and actions toward God.

Boy, do I mess up. Sometimes I feel as if I'm standing outside myself listening to (me) the angry mom telling kids to hurry up and get your shoes and coats on because we're late again and why is your room so messy and don't you kids know how hard I work to feed and clothe you and this is the thanks I get?

It can get pretty ugly. I like the above definition of conversion as the seeking of Truth and conforming one's conduct to that Truth. And the truth is that people are way more important than things or being late or having a messy house. And how often I forget that little truth.

But it gets better.

The Truth sometimes means we have to radically change our lives. Like St. Paul had to do when he got knocked of his horse by the blinding light (which indeed, left him temporarily blinded) and he heard a voice commanding him to change his life. Up until this point we can assume that Saul of Tarsus (which was his name before the Big Life Change) thought he was doing the Lord's work. He was going town to town arresting those rowdy Christians who were making life so difficult for ordinary Jews. Saul not only had to change his name and his occupation, but according to the story in Acts 9:1-22, he was was shown by God "...what he will have to suffer for [God's] name."

Human beings are unique among living creatures in that we rationalize and reason and we alone have the capacity and the need to seek the Truth. Some Christian's refer to that need for Truth as the "God-shaped vacuum inside each one of us." We try to fill it with things to satisfy that need, often ignorantly assuming we can satisfy that need, which was designed to be satisfied by God alone. We ache and long for acceptance, for wealth, for status, for friendship or for love, but God alone can satisfy that longing.

Last Friday night, my husband and I went to a kick-off meeting for a marriage group at our parish. I'm always a bit squeamish about those sorts of things to begin with, since I really like to stay inside my comfort zone and I'm naturally an introvert. We had to sit at a large table with three other couples whom we didn't know and talk to them about marriage...a rather intimate topic for strangers to discuss, I thought.

But over the course of the evening's discussions, I began to realize that successful marriages depend upon daily conversations and daily conversions of the spouses to one another and to God. Anyone who says "my marriage is great," but doesn't keep working at it will soon find him or herself in a rocky relationship.

The same must hold true with our relationship to God. If God is truly our Creator and our Love, then we must daily renew that relationship with Him and convert all of our being toward Him, who is the source of all Love.

Update on When Mom Goes to War

My friend, Eileen, who is the stay-at-home-Navy-reservist-Catholic-homeschooling-mom-of-five, recently updated us on her activities.

After being told she was going to Iraq for a year, Uncle Sam has sent her to Afghanistan instead.

Here's an excerpt from her latest email:

Hi everyone and greetings from Afghanistan!

All is going well here. Sorry that it has taken me a while to write. I kept thinking that I would do it this weekend, but there really is no "weekend" here per se. We work 7 days a week, about 14 hours a day. That and a workout is pretty much the whole waking time. I did go to Mass today, which was nice. 10 folks, no singing or anything. I did the 2nd reading. The priest is nice - perhaps from the Caribbean somewhere?

...Now that I am here work is fascinating and crazy busy. My room is a wooden shanty that looks like it could have been built by my 7 year-old son but what are you going to do? Plus, did I mention TINY. I mean TINY. It has a twin bed and that is how deep it is. I'll have to measure it to see how big. But you know, I pretty much go there to sleep and that is it. The days are FULL!! There are no dressers or anything, just these wooden or metal shelf type units with sort of cubbies. Interesting but making storing stuff a little tricky...

Things are good here. The people are nice. The work is interesting and I am busy. It is all going fast. Of course, I say that except I just realized that this is only my 3rd day and in many ways I feel I have been here for weeks. Crazy.

Please say a prayer tonight for Eileen and her husband and five little ones awaiting her safe return.

When Mom Goes to War

Note: This posting was moved from the "comments" section for Navy mom of five leaves for Iraq today. You can also read my December posting about her here.

My reason for posting this item was to share with other non-combatants, some insight into the preparation and sacrifice that our men and women in uniform make in order to serve our country and yes, fight for our freedoms. I didn't plan on making it a debate about whether or not a mom should be sent to war. In this case, the mom volunteered.

And to set your minds at ease somewhat, she is supposed to be assigned to an intell unit that will be safely enclosed in a compound away from heavy street-fighting. But as we know, the enemy has a way of bringing the fighting to the innocents, so she has to be prepared for all contingencies. But her plan is to stay inside the compound for her entire tour, keep her head down, and not get shot.

I can't speak for Eileen, but I can tell you she is a dedicated mom as well as a dedicated naval officer. She and her family have made the decision to place the needs of our country above the needs of her family for this year in their lives. This decision was not made lightly, and yes, she could have said "no," after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001 changed the nature of military service from one that prepares for war, to one that actually fights in a war. Indeed, her first response after 9/11 was to volunteer, as did many patriots. Her pregnancy meant they couldn't use her at that time. She could have left the service, but she stayed in the reserves because she obviously felt "called" to serve.

I put her in the same category as Sarah Palin. Lots of folks were shocked at her gumption to think she could run for Vice President while she had a newborn child with Down's Syndrome and a pregnant unwed daughter. "She was supposed to be home taking care of her kids," they said. But Sarah Palin isn't an ordinary mom. Eileen isn't an ordinary mom either.

Not everyone is called to serve in such a heroic fashion. Most of us stay-at-home moms serve by taking care of our families at home. But perhaps she is serving something higher than herself and her personal needs. I doubt if she would be able to commit to this level of military service if she didn't have the love and support of her husband, family and friends.

By the way, she told me her father said the same thing, when he heard she was going to be activated to Iraq. He is a retired Navy admiral and was used to being the one sent on dangerous missions while his family stayed home safe. It just didn't seem right to him that his daughter should be the one called. But Eileen assured him the Navy needed officers of her specialty and rank, and no, they didn't need any more admirals over there.

So, in answer to your questions, they do need her to go. She has the training and skills they need right now.

I'm constantly amazed at our nation's all-volunteer service. We have some of the most highly-trained and highly-skilled service men and women of any nation. And they are all volunteers. She volunteered to go. And she is one of many mothers and fathers who are serving as military forces and civilians in dangerous parts of the world.

As for the question of whether or not a mom should go to war, that's an issue that a woman who becomes a mother while serving in the military has to ask herself and her family. As for me, something clicked in my brain the moment I became a mom. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire, rather a primordial need, to be with my baby. I had a very difficult time even going back to work (which was a desk, in an office in Washington, DC). I entertained briefly the notion of staying in the reserves because it was only one weekend a month and two weeks a year and the pay was quite good. But the Gulf War became a reality during this time and my mother bear instinct was re-awakened and I knew I couldn't leave my babies, for I had three by this time.

I don't expect every mom to have the same gut feeling I did, though many do. And obviously, many men feel a mother should stay safe with the children while they do the fighting.

But the facts of life today are that women are in the military and as long as these women are mothers, they face the same deployment realities the men face.

The men and women who volunteer today face the stark reality of a post 9/11 world and they all have to be ready and willing to pay the ultimate price.

Barfing and Breastfeeding

Monday mornings the kids are all at school, so I have a few free hours to spend perusing blogs I don't usually get to read. This morning I came across Kat's blog, and it reminded me of my own experience with kids barfing at Mass.

Maria was probably only 2 or maybe even not quite 2, so we really can't blame her. We were in the old chapel at Bolling AFB, in DC, where we lived during my last year and a half in the Navy. The chapel had lovely red velvet-covered cushions on the pews. And she barfed all over them.

At least we were in the back pew and we could make a quick escape. A nice older lady helped us clean it up. After that, I think we stuck to the new chapel, which had smooth, wooden pews. (Much easier to clean up messes).

That same daughter is now 21. She informed me this past weekend how glad she was that I never breastfed her...I then offered to get out the old slides and have a slide show. She was quite horrified at the prospect of seeing herself breastfeeding with her boyfriend watching.

Good thing there were no digital cell phone cameras back in the old days when I breastfed a newborn while in uniform on a 14-hour military flight from Naples, Italy to Washington, DC! I must've looked pretty sloppy, but then again, my baby didn't cry for 14 hours straight like the poor toddlers on that flight.

Nothing like being a mom to give you a large dose of humility.

Just another day shopping with four kids

Yesterday morning while I was in the throes of frustration trying to teach JP to read--yes, even into my 18th year of homeschooling, I still find teaching reading one of the most frustrating things I have to do--I got a phone call from a homeschooling mom friend. She was calling to invite JP and DJ to her son's 7th birthday party, which is this afternoon.

"If you don't finish reading this, you're not going to the birthday party!" I told JP.

He finished reading the page in record time, then we had lunch and decided to head out to Target to look for a birthday present for his friend.

"Can I go too?" asked 11 year-old Bernadette. "I've finished my school work and I'm bored."

"Okay. As long as you don't ask for anything," I said. Famous last words.

"Me too!" said 9 year-old Paul.

"Promise me you won't ask for anything," I said, knowing full well that that's what 9 year-old boys do when you take them to Target.

"I promise!" he said.

And of course I had to bring both DJ and JP since it is their friend who's having the birthday and they had to be a part of selecting the present.

Since we were going to Target, I thought this would be a great time to look for some proper Easter clothes for the little boys since they'd either outgrown or destroyed everything they own. Just to make sure we didn't already own some nice sport coats that would fit them, we pulled out our entire selection of boys' sport coats. We had one that fit Paul nicely and one that fit JP nicely. "Great!" I said. "We'll look for one for DJ. And we'll find some new pants that fit and some shirts and ties."

So off we went to Target. Shopping for boys is WAAAYYY easier than shopping for girls. (See Twitter postings from last weekend, when I was trying to find Easter dresses for some of the girls). Navy blue blazer, navy blue trousers, blue buttoned-down shirts and sportive clip-on ties. Mission accomplished in less than 5 minutes.

On to the toy section and here's where it gets really fun. The boys immediately began asking for things:

"Bionicles! I just need one more to add to my set of 145!"

"Why can't I have this Star Wars Lego set? It's only $199.99?"

"But I really NEED this Super-Soaker Water Blaster Hydro-Sonic Extreme Fun Gun!"

Then Bernadette started in:

"Can you buy me a CD player? I really need one. And it's only $20."

"No. I thought you said you weren't going to ask for anything?"

"Yeah, but it's only $20 and I thought you were going to pay me for babysitting."

"I don't have any money right now."

"Then how come you're buying all this stuff?"

"Because this is stuff we need."

"But I need a CD player."

You kinda get the drift. This is how all my shopping trips with kids seem to go. It doesn't matter if I have one with me or half a dozen.

I finally picked out the present myself. A Nerf-blaster gun. I know this little boy. He's definitely a Nerf-blaster gun sort of kid. And they were on sale. And he doesn't have a dog who would inhale the Nerf balls like ours would.

Next, I needed to make a quick trip to the grocery store. I decided since it was St. Patrick's Day that I would make something special for dinner. No, not corned beef and cabbage. My husband, who is 1/4 Irish hates corned beef and cabbage. No, I decided I'd make something green for dinner and something green for desert. I made chicken enchiladas with green chile sauce and easy-peasy frozen limeade pie for desert. (The pie was a fave when I was a kid, but now as an adult, I think it's pretty ghastly. Still, it's green and the kids love it. And I even ate a piece last night!) To wash it all down, I bought some Guinness stout. Boy, was that good! And due to St. Paddy's Day, it was on sale.

Getting back to the shopping ordeal: the kids behavior was deteriorating rapidly in the grocery store as they realized that I wasn't buying the green frosted cookies, donuts or cakes. Nor was I buying any toys, movies, candy, chips or sodas. By the time we got to the check-out, I was ready to sell them all to some rich Arab. I decided to skip the line in the regular check-out and go to the self-service. It said "15 items or less," but, hey, who's counting?

I warned the kids, "Stand back and don't touch anything!"

"Can we ride the horses?" Paul asked.

"NO! Don't talk and don't touch. I'm tired of you asking for things. And stop touching things. Just hold onto the cart and don't MOVE!" I sneered.

Just then, an elderly gentleman walked up to me and said, "Are all these kids yours?"

I replied with a rather annoyed tone and a tense smile, "These are SOME of my kids." ("Now go away and leave me to my misery," I thought).

He walked away, only to return 30 seconds later. I was still trying to scan my groceries and keep the kids from "helping" me. He pulled out his wallet and said, "Here's something to help you out."

I looked at the 50-dollar bill he was trying to hand me and I felt horror-stricken that he would think I needed help.

I don't usually wear sweat pants and a t-shirt to the store, but I was wearing that yesterday and JP had ripped pants because they were the only green things he could find to put on that day. Was it because I looked so annoyed and frazzled at my kids? Or did I just look poor?

"Please," I said, "give it to someone who really needs it."

"Oh, no," he said. "I want you to have it."

I insisted, "That's very generous of you, but you should really give it to someone who needs it. But thank you very much for your kindness."

He finally put the money away and said, "It's the Lord's money. I'm just trying to help out."

"Wow, Mom," said Bernadette. "He thought we only had four kids! Imagine what he would've wanted to give us if he knew we had ten!"

"Oh, Mom!" said Paul, "you should've taken it! We could've bought the Special Edition Super-Duper Bionicle Goes to Mars Mind-Blaster!"

Now my kids are plotting how they could convince me to take all the kids to the grocery store so some nice elderly gentleman would give us lots of money.

Update on recent events regarding my darling son

While my nagging, haranguing, and public humiliation apparently had no effect on my son, the "care package" which I lovingly hand-crafted and filled with special items like 2-for-1 after-Christmas-special broken candy canes and discarded McDonald toys that I stole from my little ones, and a couple pairs of hiking socks that my daughter no longer wanted, apparently had the desired effect. He called me while I was sitting in the dentist's chair getting my teeth cleaned. (Now, isn't that a thoughtful son?) Obviously, I had turned my phone to vibrate, so while the technician was scraping away at my teeth, I had the sensation of a whoopy cushion going off in my pocket. He left me a sweet voice mail (which I have yet to erase, due to it's eloquent and loving tone). It goes something like this:

(heavy sigh) "Oh, hi, Mom. It's me. I got the care package you sent and I wanted you to know that I felt so guilty that I started writing that essay you wanted me to write. I only got half-way though because I'm going to Mass now. Bye."

See? If you can't humiliate them to make them do what you want them to do then just BRIBE them!

Well aren't you SPECIAL?

Whilst cleaning up my darling 20 year-old college junior's post-Christmas visit mess after driving him to the airport at 3:30 a.m., I discovered amongst the refuse, an envelope bearing the seal of his illustrious institution of higher learning. The envelope's sacred seal was opened, so I took a little peak inside, wheretowhich I found the following inscription:

"Hail and greetings, to all ye noble lads and lasses who are so-called college juniors!

Ye have the noble opportunity to excel yourselves at a writing exercise of the noblest proportions, towhichwherefore ye must write a most noble exhortation consisting of NO MORE THAN ONE STINKIN' PAGE (!!!) typed, single-spaced, nay even double-spaced, extolling the virtues of your most pure, most chaste, most lovely MOTHER(!!!)

Hark, all ye who read these enscriptions: The most noblest scholarship committe will chewz the one exhortation that extolls the sacred virtures of motherhood, nay, that merely mentions how your mother is "SPECIAL" (!!!) and will present the author with a monetary amount in the princely sum of $2500. (That's TWENTY-FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR ONE STINKIN' ONE PAGE MAXIMUM DOUBLE-SPACED TYPED STINKIN' ESSAY ABOUT HOW SPECIAL I AM TO MY FIRST BORN SON!!! BUT DOES HE DO IT? NO! HE LEAVES THE APPLICATION FORM AND DIRECTIONS IN A PILE OF DISCARDED MAIL IN HIS ROOM ALONG WITH HIS DIRTY SOCKS IN THE CORNER LEFT BEHIND FOR HIS MOST UN-SPECIAL MOM TO WASH AND DRY AND HAVE READY FOR HIM SHOULD HE EVEN HAVE A ROOM TO SLEEP IN WHEN HE COMES HOME AGAIN.)"

But I digress...

As I was saying, I was cleaning my son's mess and I found the above mentioned scholarship application. I immediately phoned him and we had the following conversation:

Me: "Do you think I'm special?"

Son: "Oh...uh...(heavy sigh)...yes, Mom."

Me: "Are you planning on writing this essay?"

Son: "Uh...oh, yeah! I was planning on doing it."

Me: "When? The due date is January 30th."

Son: (heavy sigh) "Well...you know...I'm really busy right now with organizing the paper clips on my desk and figuring out which chairs in the library offer the best napping spots and beating my personal best on Halo 3, so I'll get to it later."

Me: "When?"

Son: (heavy sigh) "Uh, well, I gotta go now..."

Me: "Would you like me to mail you the application?"

Son: "Uh, sure, yeah, okay I guess."

Now, I'm no master of judging vocal clues, but I'm thinking it was never very high on his priority list of things to do.

Now aren't I SPECIAL?

Military Mommy of Five Goes to Iraq

A friend of mine, a Naval Academy grad and Catholic homeschooling mom of five young children, is going to Iraq for a year.

"But can't they send someone else?" another friend said to me.

Yes, I'm sure they can. But we must not forget that duty, honor, country and making oaths, really matter. My friend has not forgotten. She serves her country because it is her duty and it is the honorable thing to do.

When someone is enlisted or commissioned into the armed forces they take an oath. Ours went something like this:

I, [name], do solemnly swear, that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

I know my friend is scared and she wants nothing more than to finish her time in Iraq as quickly as possible and to get home safe and sound to her family. She doesn't want to go to war any more than any of us do. But she knows that she has made a promise to God and her country to serve faithfully.

She's a reservist, which means she is used to being home with her kids, except for that one weekend a month and two weeks a year that she wears a uniform and serves her country. She will be activated in a few months and will then be carrying out her duties 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for approximately one calendar year.

She will be going in harms' way to help protect our country and our way of life, but also, to help our global neighbors live a better life and experience freedom and justice in a way that they hadn't previously been able to experience. She goes to help prevent another terrorist attack like the one on September 11, 2001 that claimed nearly three thousand lives.

She risks her own freedom, happiness, and security, and that of her family, in order to carry out her duty. She risks leaving her youngest child, not yet 2 years old, that he might not recognize her when she returns.

Her husband and parents will be carrying on without her and trying to keep a normal routine while mom's away. They'll be homeschooling her kids and taking them to Mass and to family reunions and birthday parties and soccer games and piano recitals. And they'll be counting the days until Mom returns.

Please remember Eileen and her family in your prayers.