Some things my grandchildren might like to know about me

Things I wanted to be when I grew up:

1. a penguin (I was only 4 or 5 at the time).

2. a Hawaiian (but my mom told me you actually had to be born one, which I found grossly unfair and totally against the attitude of the '70's which said women could be anything they wanted to be...I was about 6 or 7)

3. a nurse

4. a teacher

5. a U.S. Naval Officer

6. an astronaut

7. a writer

Things I have done:

1. I wore combat boots--on several occasions--most notably for a week during the summer of 1984, when, as a second-class midshipman, we had our U.S. Marine Corps indoctrination introduction. I also got to fire an M-16, a grenade launcher, and a machine gun; sit in the co-pilot seat of a helicopter (sorry, I can't remember what kind...but it had a distinctly Vietnam sort of feel as we flew low over the trees of northern Virginia), and paint my face with camo-green grease paint. After a night of war games in the woods of Virginia, we came back to the barracks and picked the ticks off. There were hundreds. Yes, hundreds.

2. Flew upside-down in a T-2 in Pensacola, Florida. Decided I didn't want to fly for a living.

3. Sailed on a 98-foot yacht from Annapolis, Maryland, to Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada and visited several ports of call, including New York City. While underway, in heavy seas, with 95% of the crew seasick, we had a fire at sea.

4. Sang back-up for Donna Summer (with the U.S. Naval Academy Women's Glee Club) at Pres. Reagan's 1985 Inaugaration Gala. Backstage, Lou Rawls told us, "Ya'll sounded real good;" Crystal Gale told us we looked "pretty" in our formal dinner dress uniforms; and Dean Martin winked at me. (Okay, I admit he winked at a lot of young ladies that evening). Oh, and Frank Sinatra sang with a glass of scotch in his hand and Tom Selleck was holding hands with his lady friend while all of us gals were desperately trying to catch his eye.

5. Shook President Ronald Reagan's hand when I received my Baccalaureate degree, May 1985.

6. I met Diego Maradona when I lived in Naples, Italy.

7. I have been mistaken for a prostitute. (In Naples, Italy).

8. Although I've never been arrested, I did have a police officer shine a flashlight in my face once and say, "You look familiar. Have you ever been arrested?"

9. My dh and I appeared on the Maury Povich show. (When Philosopher-Mom was deemed too smart, she gave them my name, I was phone-interviewed and deemed ditsy enough for the show). The topic of the show was, "Childfree by Choice," and we were the freaks with FIVE children! (Addendum: Also on the show was, Ben Wattenberg, who displayed great class in congratulating us on our five kids and he inscribed a copy of his book, The Birth Dearth, to us: "To Debbie and Joe...who are doing their part...with high regard, Ben Wattenberg, NY/NY 11/93.")

10. I once considered changing my name to "Aurora Borealis." *

Things I have eaten:

1. rattlesnake

2. Rocky Mountain oysters

3. alligator

4. frog legs

5. horse

Jobs I have actually had:

1. Youth Conservation Corps youth worker--2 summers

2. midshipman

3. 45 caliber pistol instructor

4. communications watch officer

5. telephone officer (liason with the Italian telephone company)

6. celebration of the bicentennial of the US Constitution coordinator

7. security officer

8. crisis pregnancy volunteer

9. Girl Scout leader

10. homeschool mom

* O.K. Not really. That one was supposed to be a joke. But I do think it's a pretty cool name.

On being a white belt adult testing for a taekwondo color belt with a bunch of eleven year-olds

Today was taekwondo testing at our studio where 7 of us now take classes. Yep, the 5 awesome kids pictured here, plus dh and me. My husband and I tested for our first color belt today. The testing consisted of doing our "form" of 16 moves. These moves were a series of blocks, punches, and kicks that comprise the "white belt form." My dh and I were the only white belts in our testing of adults and "high rank" students ages 7 to 12. We had to do our form in front of our instructor (5th degree black belt), two guest judges (3rd and 4th degree black belts), and the entire school with requisite parents, grandparents, siblings, friends and neighbors in attendance. (I purposely did NOT invite any other relatives, friends or neighbors to my first testing!) We also had to perform our "one steps," which is a series of moves which one would perform if attacked. We alternated playing the role of attacker and defender in front of the judges. Our only misstep of the day (I suppose I should say MY only misstep of the day since I'm the one who misstepped), was when I began attacking before receiving the appropriate signal (a sort of grunt "ay-ya!") from my dh. Evidently it wasn't the end of the world and life continued on and we survived, nay, evidently passed, our first test.

Dear Edmund, who is a 2nd degree black belt recommended, and who has attempted to test for 2nd degree decided on a previous occasion, was not able to break one of his three boards in three tries, and thus didn't pass on to 2nd degree decided today. He will attempt his entire testing, which is quite lengthy for 2nd degree black belt, again on December 20th. Third time's a charm. His good sportsmanlike conduct is commendable, and I hope to one day have as good a form as he does.

Also testing were my "Tiny Tigers," JP and DJ, who did a fine job with the under 7 year-olds. They were testing for their green decided belts. And Bernadette, did a super awesome job testing for her brown belt decided. She broke her boards on the first try!

Not testing today due to some "attitude" difficulties, was young Paul. He should have been testing for brown belt recommended, but his instructor and parents agreed that his performance has not always been the best and that it would be unfair for other kids who actually paid attention in class and worked hard. The upshot of that is that my driving schedule is going to continue to be crazy hectic as I have to drive kids to most of the 14 classes we take each week and Paul won't be able to join his sister in her classes, thus eliminating 3 of those classes.

Aren't we terrifyingly and ridiculously good-looking in our pure-white uniforms and belt?

Some Inconvenient Truths

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. The Declaration of Independence; July 4, 1776.

Of all the issues that divide Republican and Democrat candidates, none is more crucial this election year than the issue of protection of human life, from conception to natural death.

Sadly, the party that has traditionally stood for human rights, for the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized, is the party that has made abortion a sacramental rite on the altar of lies.

Yes, lies.

Lie #1:
We don’t know when life begins.

There are some inconvenient truths that Democrats have been scrambling to deny ever since the advent of Roe v. Wade in 1973, which took away some states’ rights to outlaw abortions. The court found a privacy clause in the Bill of Rights and the Fourteenth Amendment, which they used to support their majority opinion. The opinion dismissed the concern that the unborn might also be entitled to some of these rights to privacy, stating that since we are unable to know when life begins, we must not worry ourselves about it. Yet, wouldn’t the more prudent stand be one of preserving life, even the very possibility of life?

Thanks to advancements of modern science and medical technology, there is now, no doubt about when life begins. Whether or not an unborn child has human rights, is another question, which can only be decided by the legislature and the courts.

Lie #2
Abortion is a women’s health issue.

Waiting in the wings, for a Democrat-controlled legislature and presidency, is the “Freedom of Choice Act,” which would overturn any and all state regulations on abortion, such as: parental notification laws, regulation on unsafe abortion clinics, abortions provided by non-physicians, and taxpayer funded abortions for any and all reasons, including sex selection and as a form of birth control. It would also overturn the federal ban on partial birth abortions, which the Supreme Court upheld in 2007.

The high priest of this religious zealotry is Senator Barack Obama, who, on his own website states: “…it's never been more important to protect a woman's right to choose. Last year, the Supreme Court decided by a vote of 5-4 to uphold the Federal Abortion Ban, and in doing so undermined an important principle of Roe v. Wade: that we must always protect women's health. With one more vacancy on the Supreme Court, we could be looking at a majority hostile to a women's fundamental right to choose for the first time since Roe v. Wade. The next president may be asked to nominate that Supreme Court justice. That is what is at stake in this election.”

Interestingly, “women’s health,” is a vague term which is batted around as if abortion is somehow a form of preventive medicine, like vaccinations or flossing. Common sense tells us abortion is less about women’s health and more about doing away with inconvenient children.

Lie #3:
The declaration of human rights is above our paygrade.

Since the Democratic leadership seems to be spending a great deal of time discussing the abortion issue, let’s examine some of the things they’ve been saying:

Sen. Barack Obama, at the Saddleback Forum, was asked by Pastor Rick Warren: “When does a baby get human rights?” Note, he didn’t ask him, “When do you think life begins?” as has been quoted throughout the media. He asked him, “When does a baby get human rights?” This is a perfectly reasonable question to ask someone running for public office. The protection of human rights should be paramount to the duties of public office. The government is in the business of deciding what rights will be granted to which people.

Instead of answering, “Under Roe v. Wade, a baby gets human rights if that baby is chosen to get rights by its mother; otherwise, it's when the baby is born into an environment where a live birth is desired;” Sen. Obama said, "You know…I think that whether you're looking at it from a theological perspective or a scientific perspective, answering that question with specificity, you know, is above my paygrade."

Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, was asked by Tom Brokaw to comment on Sen. Obama’s answer to the above question, but Brokaw misquoted Pastor Warren’s question, saying, “what would you say to Sen. Obama about the question of when life begins?” Her misguided answer drew immediate rebuke from Catholic bishops throughout the United States. There is no question that she misrepresented thousands of years of Catholic teaching on the sanctity of life. Yet she was not held accountable by the media for her wrong answer.

Senator Joe Biden’s comments on abortion are even more puzzling. Jumping into the fray after Obama and Pelosi, Biden was asked on Meet the Press, “When does life begin?” His response was that he knows when it begins for him. “Look, I know when it begins for me; it’s a personally [sic] and private issue. For me, as a Roman Catholic, I’m prepared to accept the teachings of my Church.”

Author aside: Joe…Can I call you Joe? I have some more questions for you, Joe: Since when is the question of when life begins a “personally and private issue”? Can the beginning of life be anything other than a scientific fact? Are you saying there are multiple realities? What’s alive for you may not be alive for another? And, if you’re really prepared to accept the teachings of your Church, which says it is a grave sin to assist one in procuring an abortion, including voting for laws enabling abortion, then how can you say you’re “pro-choice”? And if, as you say, “…life begins at conception…” how can a just and free country allow the killing of that life, based on the inconvenience of the child?

While we may disagree on the appropriateness of doing away with inconvenient children, there must be no doubt that abortion is the taking of a human life. Science can and does answer with specificity when life begins. It is our elected officials who must decide when human rights begin.

National Novel Writing Month

I've taken the plunge and signed up for National Novel Writing Month. You should too!

I'm doing so after the good example of my friend, Anna Scott Graham, who welcomed my family upon our arrival in northern England in June 2000, with a batch of freshly picked strawberries. Now that's neighborly!

The idea is to force yourself to write. Just write and write and write. And maybe, just maybe, out of that glob of 50,000 (or more) words, you'll have something worth reading. Or maybe not. But it sounds like a great way to get the creative juices flowing. And since I've talked about writing a book for years and years and years, but never done something about it, I thought this sounded like a great excuse.

And, particulary noteworthy for homeschoolers, there is a great site for young writer's so they can participate as well.

I've convinced my dh and several of my kinders to take the plunge with me. I'll keep you posted on how we do!

I took my kids with me to Planned Parenthood

Today I went to the Rocky Mountain Planned Parenthood clinic to participate in the 40 Days of Life. I brought along Lizzy and Bernadette and we prayed the rosary while we walked along the west (entrance) side of the building. Such a simple act, yet it never fails to affect me. The horror of it all seems masked by the new, neatly landscaped, multi-million dollar building that covers an entire city block and is surrounded on all sides by an 8-foot high barbed-wire topped fence.

The people that we saw going in and out this afternoon looked to be mostly the workers. They don't look at you. What amazes me is the strength I feel when I pray there. Evil has no hold over the voice of Truth. The evil one knows his days are numbered. The power of the cross will prevail.

Here's an interesting story about what's going on with the 40 Days of Life in other parts of the country. Eduardo Verastegui, the handsome star of the movie Bella joined the prayer vigil in Los Angeles and some of the nurses came out just to meet him!

Saint Bruno, pray for us!

A Meditation on Children: By the Numbers

Author's note: After reading my friend, Philospher-Mom's, posting on Answer to Challenge Math Problem for Gestational Genuises , I started thinking about some child-related math questions of my own. This is the result.

Last year, a local family magazine ran an article on large families. They wanted to know funny stories and interesting anecdotes that would make people-who-drive-normal-cars-that-still-hold-their-entire-family laugh. They wanted to know things like: how many loads of laundry we do each week (10-12), how many socks are included in that set (168, plus or minus one, since there's always an odd number), how many gallons of milk we drink each week (5-7, same number of loaves of bread), and how many times we've forgotten kids at various locations throughout the planet (Editor's note: deleted for space).

They were too tasteful to ask more personal questions regarding pregnancy and bodily fluids--after all, it is a family magazine!

But you, gentle readers, are eager to know these intimate details, so I have decided to hold nothing back. So pour yourself a cup of coffee, turn down Oprah, and enjoy the math.

How about the total length of time I've been pregnant? 76 months. This includes 8 full-term pregnancies, 1 miscarriage and 2 adoptions. (Math answer: that's 6 years and 4 months).

How long have I been a nursing mom? A whopping 111 months! (That's more than 9 years...and that includes a 14+ hour military transport flight from Naples, Italy to the U.S. via Germany and Iceland with me in uniform and a newborn infant whose diapers I changed on the in-flight tray table...remember that next time you dine at 30,000 feet!)

How long have I been a homeschooling mom? Over 17 years.

We currently have 3 in college. We will have between 1 and 4 in college every year for the next 16 years (assuming all go to a 4-year college after high school).

We currently have 5 teenagers.

I've driven a 15-passenger van for 13 of my 21 years of marriage.

If you add up my kids' ages, you'll find we have 113 kid-years' experience as parents. (Editor's note: we should be honest and subtract the first 2 years of our youngest 2 children's lives because they didn't come home to live with us until they were 2 years old). O.K. That makes 109 kid-years!

So that should make me some kind of authority on parenting, right? All I know is this: before I had kids, I thought I had time. Now that I have kids, I know I don't have time. Before I had kids I thought I knew what love was. Now that I have kids, I do know what love is. Before I had kids, I thought I had patience. Now I have kids, and I'm just beginning to learn the meaning of patience.

Finally, my top ten rules learned after 109 kid-years of parenting:

1. Keep your sense of humor.

2. If it stinks, wash it.

3. "Because I said so," is a good enough reason.

4. They are cuter when they're asleep.

5. No matter how much we try to deny it, the fact is, we do become our mothers.

6. This, too, shall pass.

7. We need these kids as much as they need us.

8. (Often said 9 months later): "What were we thinking?"

9. Tell God (or your mother) your plans; it'll make them laugh.

10. If all else fails, see #1.

copyright Debbie Nowak 2008

Today is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

...and dh and I, along with 6 of our offspring, went to the Catholic Mass for the homeschoolers of Northern Colorado, celebrated by our new auxiliary bishop, Bishop James Conley. Since St. Francis of Assisi is the patron of Colorado (he was named thus about 10 years ago), we were able to celebrate this optional memorial as a feast.

Cool. Feast. The name implies a big party, with lots of food. Well, it was rather like a party. Seeing lots of folks you only see once a year at the homeschool conference. Seeing old friends. And lots and lots of newbies. As for food...well, at least we had the Bread of Life, cause we ran out of food at the reception pretty darned quickly. After standing in line to meet Bishop Conley, and receive his blessing, we went into the reception hall and lo and behold, there wasn't much food left. Lots of hungry little ones and it was nearly noon. Fortunately, I had baked a loaf of zucchini bread this morning and I still had it in the car. So much for the miracle of the loaves and the fishes...it was gone almost as soon as I cut it!

But...there was a really cool relic of St. Francis of Assisi. For non-Catholics, that means we had an actual piece of his bone. It is housed in a reliquary, a little stand with a glass window in it. We had the chance to venerate his relic. (In actuality, dh and I said some silent prayers to ask the good saint to watch over our wild animals, I mean children.)

Which is super cool, because he's a favorite saint of mine. And not because of the bird bath thing, but because he was so radical. He gave himself so totally to God that when his bishop told him to give his wealthy father back the money he took, which Francis had planned to use to rebuild a dilapidated church, Francis gave his father all the money back. Not only that, but he stripped naked in the public square in front of a crowd of people, including the bishop and his father. He gave his earthly father everything he had...even the clothes off his back, and went naked into the wilderness to meet God.

I don't advocate walking into the woods naked, because you'll either get poison ivy, frostbite, or arrested.

But St. Francis was such a cool dude because he had so much wealth, status and friendships, but he gave them all up to follow God. He was a real radical.

At the same time, he was perfectly obedient. When the bishop said "give the money back," he did...even though God told him to rebuild the church. He never set out to start an order, or reform the Church, or change the world. He just gave himself completely to God and God took care of the rest.

Now that's a real radical.

God Moments

Have they ever happened to you? I had one of my own last night.

My husband and went to see Les Miserables at the Arvada Center for the Performing Arts last night. It was an impluse purchase...$45 tickets on a weeknight. We took along 13 year-old budding actress, Joan, and her friend, M. (They paid for their own tickets...I figured teenage girls who would pay that kind of money to see a show deserved to go...)

Shortly after arrival, as we were standing in the lobby, me sipping Merlot from a plastic cup, dh sipping Coors from his, I spotted a face in the crowd that struck me as a face from my long-ago childhood. I was not going to let this moment pass. Having let moments like these pass before, I've learned in my mature years to capture the moment. So I purposely left my husband and strode up to the man (whose face I noticed) and his wife.

I asked them if they were Mr. and Mrs. C...they said "yes," and I introduced myself with my maiden name. They remembered me! Their daughter had been my best friend from 1st grade through 4th grade. In 5th grade we moved from Denver to Del Norte, a small town in a remote part of Colorado. Their daughter and I had kept in touch, sporadically. I think I last saw her when I was in high school and the two of us attended Girls' State at the same time.

I had many lovely childhood memories of being at their home. They were the only Catholic family that I knew. Their home was different from mine. First of all, there were twice the number of children...four! Second, the walls had religious pictures on them. I distinctly remember one in the kitchen of a peasant praying before eating his meal. And I remember seeing pictures of their girls in white communion dresses and wondering what that was all about.

Their home was always open and was always a place of love and joy.

I still can't believe I recognized them after 35 years...or that they remembered me! Perhaps my memory isn't as bad as I thought it was...

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

While I'm on the subject, I have to tell about a couple other God moments I've had.

One was about two years ago, when I was working in the nursery of my kids' school. In walked a tall blonde women who introduced herself as D... She and I chatted for a few minutes about Guatemala, as she noticed my two boys were Guatemalan. She told me she had lived there for over 7 years, working as a nurse in a mobile medical unit. Her husband was the business side of it, she said. They had just moved to Colorado and were homeschooling and using the same option school we were using.

I said goodbye and began driving home. But it suddenly hit me and I turned around, parked and went back into the nursery.

I asked her what her last name was and she told me. I told her that I had met her husband when we were in Guatemala to visit our boys before we adopted them. We had brought with us two suitcases full of shoes and medicines for their medical mission. I had totally forgotten about it when I first met her!

A month or so later, I was on retreat at the Abbey of St. Walburga, for a knitting retreat. It was my first retreat at the new abbey location (they had been located in Boulder before moving to northern Colorado). The retreat leader introduced herself on Friday evening and thus we began our knitting retreat. Her name didn't seem familiar to me at the time. It wasn't until later the next day, when she was talking about being raised in a small town in Colorado, but also moving to Africa, where her dad was a missionary doctor, that I had a clue. I asked her the name of the small town in Colorado. She said "Del Norte," and I realized who she was! Her mother was my Girl Scout leader and I remembered going to her house sometimes for meetings. Her dad had been a doctor in our small town, but had gone back to Africa with his family. The funny thing was that she was not Catholic, (nor was I when I lived in Del Norte). And she had never led a retreat before. Yet, here she was, at a Catholic Benedictine monastery, leading a retreat. And here I was, someone who knew her from her childhood.

Those are God moments to me. I think God gives us these glimpses into the mystical body of Christ...or maybe they're just glimpses into our humanity and how we're linked to one another. I am constantly amazed when this happens.

I'm thinking of more God moments as I write...but they'll have to wait until next time...

A Glorious Autumn Retreat: Then Comes the Fall

This past Thursday and Friday I spent a glorious day and a half at a Benedictine monastery retreat house in northern Colorado. I took my daughter, Elizabeth (16), and we attended a day retreat on Lectio Divina, given by the Mother Abbess, Mother Maria-Michael.

We thoroughly enjoyed the refreshing solitude, the exercise (walking 3/4 mile from the retreat house to the chapel several times a day for retreat sessions, liturgical prayers and Mass), and the spiritual renewal. We also enjoyed several walks on the grounds. We saw three bobcats when we walked the stations of the cross on Thursday afternoon!

We were also pleased to be able to visit with two groups of novices and their novice masters, who attended the same retreat as we. The Dominican novices from Denver, and the Holy Cross novices from Cascade.

We returned on Friday to a husband and 6 kids who were really happy to have us home.

But

Just when you think you have life under control.....

There goes the plumbing!

We spent the entire month of July and well into the month of August repairing major water damage in our downstairs study which was caused by the upstairs bathtub faucet malfunctioning. Water poured into the room below, and also caused damage to the interior closet in the master bedroom, which is adjacent to the bathroom.

We paid our huge deductible (ouch!) to our insurance company and let them assign a general contrator to oversee the reconstruction. This was after we hired a plumber to repair and replace the worn out tub fixtures.

WELL...Saturday night, dear Edmund (15, who is now residing in blessed solitariness in the former downstairs study), called our attention to some water that had mysteriously appeared on his floor. We immediately looked up to see if we could find the source of the water, since nearly all our children had bathed that day (in preparation for the Sabbath...aren't we squeaky clean?) It was quite a mystery, since there was absolutely no water stain on the ceiling or walls, but there was a definite pool of water in the middle of the floor, as if someone had spilled an entire glass of water! (This was the option I chose, since it seemed most likely).

Additionally, there was water on the carpet, underneath the radiator by the window. We haven't had the heat on since last winter, so it seemed unlikely that there was a radiator leak.

Even more bewildering, there was a small pool of water outside the window, on the stone ledge, and we'd had no rain, nor had anyone turned on the outside faucet...

I held to my opinion that it had been a small child with a wayward cup of water who had perhaps dropped the glass, splashing some toward the far wall, underneath the radiator, with the bulk of it on the floor.

But yesterday afternoon we discovered the real source of all that water. We decided to re-enact the scene of the crime by filling the tub with water (no children this time), and letting it drain, to see if any water reappeared. We filled it to the overflow spout and could hear the water draining down the pipes in the wall, but no water leaked. We then drained the entire tub, listening and watching all the while for any leaks. Still nothing.

"It must've been a cup of water," we thought.

Blogging momentarily interrupted by insurance company calling back to tell me I get to pay another deductible!

About 30 minutes later, Edmund calls me to come and take a look. There is water pouring from the ceiling fan (with light) in the center of his ceiling. It collected on the floor, the same spot we found the water the day before. ARRGGHH!

Update: the insurance company is notified; they in turn, notify the water mitigation crew, who is prepared to come out today and help dry out the ceiling and the wall and check the wiring on the electric fan. I try to get a hold of the plumber, so he can come out and locate the source of the leak.

God certainly has a unique sense of humor.

Sts. Michael, Gabriel and Raphael! Pray for us. Please watch over our house and guide the workmen as they seek to find and repair the cause of the leak. And please, help them fix ALL the problems so we don't have to do this again!

Life with Ten Kids: Am I Crazy, or What?

Why would anyone have ten kids in today's world? Prices are skyrocketing, cities are crowded and raising kids is fraught with peril. People are astonished when I tell them I have ten kids. I often hear, "You must be crazy," or, "You must be rich," or, "You must be a saint." I thoroughly acknowledge my lack of sanity. I sometimes feel rich, (in love, that is). I rarely, if ever, feel like a saint.

You have to be a bit crazy to have a family numbering in the double digits, requiring a minimum of two hotel rooms when traveling, and always needing additional pages when filling out forms that list household members.

When maneuvering my 15-passenger van through the McDonald's drive-through one day, the woman handing me my happy meals commented, "That's a big van."

I replied, "Mini-vans are for wimps."

I didn't intend to offend. It was supposed to be funny, but she retorted, "I drive a mini-van."

Oops.

As for feeling rich, every time I pay the mortgage bill, I tell my husband, "We get to live in the house for another month!" He doesn't appreciate hearing that, but I feel a sense of accomplishment each month when I mail the check.

When I was a little girl, I used to love visiting Grandmother in Paducah, Kentucky. She was rich. She had silver candlestick holders. She would laugh at me when I told my friends she was rich. When I grew up and saw with adult eyes the tiny house she and Grandfather lived in their entire married life, I understood why she laughed. But she was still rich in my mind.

Christmas morning at our house means Mass, followed by breakfast and opening presents. The younger kids get tremendous joy from wrapping their old toys and recycling them as gifts to other family members. The older kids get somewhat annoyed at this, ("Hey, I gave you that last year!"), but, they're pretty good sports for the most part.

Birthdays at our house mean twelve voices singing, "Happy Birthday to You," at fever-pitch until the dishes in the china cabinet rattle. If we were smarter, we'd have spread out the birthdays so we had one a month, but our anniversary is in March, and we now have five birthdays in December. December is one big party at our house.

After our eighth child was born, we took a job in England. There is nothing like being an American in another country to make you feel rich. We began to think seriously about adding to our family through adoption. I felt like the richest woman in town when my husband said he was willing to adopt one, then two more children.

When people tell me, "You must be rich," I smile and nod, with a wink at the kids. I feel rich.

As for being a saint-certainly not. I know more than anyone (except, perhaps my kids), how little patience I have, how many mistakes I make, and how often I fail at being a good parent. The great thing about having ten kids is they're teaching me patience and they're teaching me how to be a good parent because they give me so many opportunities to practice.

And one of the best perks of having so many kids is that if one, two, or even three of them are mad at me at any given moment, I still have at least a 70% approval rating. Maybe I am a saint after all.

Twenty-Year Reunion at Annapolis

What do a commanding officer of a guided missile warship, an airline pilot, a medical doctor, an astronaut and a homeschooling mother of ten have in common? We're all in the sixth class of women to graduate from the United States Naval Academy.

We entered the naval service in July, 1981; a typically hot, humid day in Annapolis, Maryland. Most of the 1200 new midshipmen shared traits of idealism, patriotism and a desire to serve. The nearly one hundred women who entered that day shared something else we didn't yet realize. We would have to prove ourselves as deserving a place at the Academy when many, if not most, of our male classmates saw us as parasites, stealing the place of a young man who should have been there.

We weren't the first to face such trials. The first women were appointed to the service academies in 1976 by act of Congress and against the wishes of most senior officers. In these modern times, so the argument went, women could be just as effective technical Cold War warriors as men. The funny thing is, most proponents of feminism who petitioned to open the academies to women weren't the sort who'd actually want their daughters (or sons) to fight for their country in uniform. We few women were in the strange position of being both patriot and pariah.

I was a small-town girl from Colorado. I graduated from Del Norte High School in the San Luis Valley. Life at the Naval Academy was as opposite from my experience as possible. There were times when I wondered if I'd made the right decision to leave Colorado and a four-year Boettcher scholarship for a nine-year commitment to the Navy. But due to stubbornness, pride, or sheer determination, I wasn't about to quit.

Nearly eighty women made it to graduation in 1985. We didn't think we made history, we were just thankful to finally realize the dream of graduation. We went our separate ways. We went to drive ships, lead Marines, fly jets, communicate over satellites and more, all over the globe. Some of us completed our required service and left to pursue civilian careers, or motherhood, or both. Some of us retired after twenty years and command at sea. Some of us still serve, and one flew a mission on the space shuttle. Captain Lisa Nowak (no relation), achieved some amazing things before she became internationally infamous.

I met up with some of these remarkable women at our twentieth reunion a couple of years ago. They're smart, successful, beautiful women and I'm honored to call them classmates. It was wonderful to reconnect after twenty years, to meet husbands and to see pictures of kids. Unfortunately, none of us thought to organize a mini-reunion or even a picture with just the women. We realized we were still trying so hard to be one of the guys and not rock the boat, that it was hard to understand we didn't have to play by those rules anymore.

Only once during our four years at the Academy did we pose for a group picture. The women who cut our hair requested a picture of each class, starting with the first class of women in 1980. We had our picture taken shortly before graduation, and it joined the five earlier photos they had displayed in the women's beauty shop. The picture shows sixty-two of the seventy-six graduates in front of the chapel. The sun is shining brightly on a beautiful spring day and we're young and full of hope for the future. (Lisa Nowak, the astronaut, is fourth from the left in the front row. I feel so terrible for her and what she and her family must be going through. Something in this remarkable woman cracked and there but for the grace of God go you or I. Oh, and I'm the sixth one from the left in the front row.) I would love to have another group photo taken. Maybe we'll do it at our next reunion.

Musings of a Really Lame Blogger

Okay, nearly a year has passed as I've been debating whether or not to continue with this blog.

I kept thinking, "Who would want to read about me and my family and what I have to say?"

The answer, "Probably a few close friends and a couple of relatives."

Encouraged to persevere by a friend recently, I've decided to give this blog thing another try.