Happy Birthday, Katie!

Last night, we went to Michael's soccer game. And after the game, families and friends of players congregated around the field fence waiting for the players to come. This is a funny scene and I'm new to it. Lots of middle-aged parents, a smattering of girlfriends, a few college guys,  and the Foss kids, including an exuberant Katie and baby Karoline. Katie is a pixie, a sprite, a sunbeam.  She is all joy. And last night, sensing perhaps the downturn of emotion after the loss, she donned her silly hair and danced in and out among the people there, drawing smiles and giggles despite the mood. It's her calling really--making people happy. She does it all the time here at home. She's not oblivious to grim moods or crankiness; she's just determined to dispel them.

Her Daddy has told her since she was born that she's the "Queen of the World." And he treats her so. He hoists her high onto his shoulders and lets her wave like a queen (much like St. Therese's father carried her). She calls him on his way home from work and asks him to bring her ice cream. If he declines, she reminds him that she's the queen of the world. He acquiesces and all is right with the universe. Spoiled? Not really. It's more like a family tradition.

She sprinkles happy dust everywhere. She's also very strong-willed. Katie's birth was traumatic. She had been breech at 37 weeks and then she flipped to vertex at 38 weeks. I thought all was well until an appointment at 39 weeks. She was breech again, with her foot in the birth canal and I was about five centimeters. Surgery was indicated immediately. After six unmedicated births, I was ill-prepared for this one. And I reeled for a very long time. Recently, Katie happened upon the books I'd used to prepare Mary Beth to be with me when Karoline was born.

Katie: I'm never going to have a baby.

Me: (surprised because she loves babies, real and imaginary) Why in the world not?

Katie: Because I saw how they come out and I'm never going to do that. Ever. Ever.

Me: (kicking myself for not being more careful with the books and wondering about future grandchildren) Katie, it's not so bad. You don't have to watch if you don't want to (o.k. so this was totally lame but I was on the spot and grasping at straws) and really, it's pretty cool when it's happening. Trust me on this one.

Katie: Nope. I"m not doing it. And you know what? If I were a baby, I would not come out that way. If I were a baby I'd tell them that I"m the queen of the world and they'd have to find another way.

Right. You would.

And that is the first time in five years I've had a good, hard laugh about Katie's birth. Happy dust. Everywhere.

I told her yesterday that it was her last day to be four and her face clouded. "I love four. Four is a very wonderful thing to be." I'd love four, too, if I were Katie. I've loved four with Katie. Her Daddy is gone today and her Mikey is, too. She's very attached to these men in her life. But I'm going to do the best I can to make the first day of five even better than four. And I'm going to stay very close to Katie. I'm looking forward to a sprinkling or two of happy dust.

(The bear says "Someone at George Mason University loves me." She carries it everywhere. And someone really does.)

Happy Birthday, Michael

Nineteen years ago today, I became a mother. It's all I ever really wanted to be. When I was a little girl, all my play was sprinkled with babies. I fell in love early and  I knew then what it was to want to be a wife.  We were married and had a baby shortly after our first anniversary. So, there has been a baby in our lives most of our married life. And I've been married  all my adult life.

That baby, that first baby, was better than my best imaginings. He was a sweet, beautiful blue-eyed, blond-haired, bundle of utter joy. He kept me up all night. I didn't mind; I was still happy to see him first thing in the morning.Looking back, he was rather spoiled. I remember making pancakes from scratch every morning for months on end because that's the only thing he liked for breakfast (and lunch, too, for that matter). I remember putting him in the car and following the trash truck because he was fascinated by it. I remember offering moral support while my husband stayed up all night crafting a Peter Pan ship out of cake and frosting for his fifth birthday. He slept on our bedroom floor, with all his action figures arranged, just so, until he was seven. There's nothing quite like getting up in the middle of the night and stepping on Captain Hook.

I also remember that this was the child who grew to be the big brother. He was the one who was there to welcome every baby. He was the one who had piggybacks down to a science, could change a diaper in a pinch, and stayed up all night with me when I had six stitches in my hand the same night five of his siblings had a stomach bug and his dad was out of town. This was the child who first moved from child to friend.

He's a great conversationalist. He loves to write and to take pictures and it's fun to trade ideas with him for both. As he has matured, his faith has, too, and I find myself lately being inspired by his example. I don't think that we are supposed to be buddies with our children when they are little. I don't even think we're supposed to be chums with our sons when they are big. But I do think that a goal in childrearing is to raise a person with whom you can be friends. What a lovely thing it is to look at the young adult in my life and want to spend time with him! He is my friend. I love him and I respect him. I'm still his Mom and he reminds me frequently that he still needs my perspective and experience and guidance in his life. But he's a man and I am very fond of the man he is.

So, today is his birthday and in many, many ways, it's mine as well. He was nine days late. We'd always known his name was Michael and we think he waited to be heralded by the archangels on the feast. How often lately, I call upon those angels! Defend him in battle, please! Help him avoid the snares of the devil. Be with my baby in that very big world. Oh, and, enjoy the companionship of one of my best friends.

He surprised me late yesterday and asked me to come get him so he could spend a few hours at home. This mom who hates to drive gleefully added an extra hour to the Friday afternoon driving--half of which was perfect heaven because Michael sat next to me and talked about all sorts of things while he ate pistachios and feed Slurpee to Karoline. He asked for another Peter Pan cake, but we opted instead for our traditional Devil's Food Kahlua cake.  What a joy it is this morning to set the table for breakfast and put the birthday plate at Michael's place. All the places are set today (with an extra for my Dad who also surprised me late yesterday).And it was lovely to go to bed last night with all my children under my roof. It's birthday week here. Let the feasting begin!

St. Michael Defend Us in Battle

Here's one for today.

Poetry Friday: The Michaelmas Daisy Fairy Song

"Red Admiral, Red Admiral,

Alighting on my daisies one by one!
I hope you like their flavour and although the Autumn's near,
Are happy as you sit there in the sun?"

"I thank you very kindly, sir!
Your daisies are so nice,
So pretty and so plentiful are they;
The flavour of their honey, sir, it really does entice;
I'd like to bring my brothers, if I may!"

"Friend butterfly, friend butterfly, go fetch them one and all! 
   I'm waiting here to welcome every guest;
And tell them it is Michaelmas, and soon the leaves will fall,   
  But I think Autumn sunshine is the best!"
-Cicely Mary Barker

The Poetry Friday Roundup is at AmoXcalli

D is for Donut...and Dump

It's "D" week here, all week long. Seems a good enough excuse for a brain Dump. It's also "tweak week." I'm about four weeks into our new routine and it's taken me absolutely every waking second of those four weeks to reach my stride. Michael's absence echoes in this house--I feel it every time I go to lock the door at night and can't get over the feeling that someone is not yet home. And, I feel it every time I drive all over town and miss the tangible help with carpooling. And, I feel it when I have something to share and I look up to tell him and he's not here. He calls nearly every day and not because he has to, just because he wants to say hello. He's happy enough, though he's not playing as much as he'd like and he's working very, very hard. His schedule is not  his own and considering he's so close to home, we've hardly seen him at all.

But back to "tweak week." There are seven children in my house who need some sort of academic attention (this includes Gracie, who is definitely wanting her own work this year). We have two children preparing for sacraments (reconciliation, first Communion, and Confirmation). We have two with special needs. We have a nursing baby who is going to walk soon. And we have countless other unique factors to consider. I've tried to map this all out graphically. I've spent hours and hours talking about vision and scope and sequence with like-minded friends. But, in the end, we just had to live it for a while to figure it all out.

• I've learned that Monday Night Geography is a huge hit.
• I've learned that flower fairies are not just for girls and Elsa Beskow books are family favorites.
• I've learned that Patrick will binge read Harry Potter but he needs a huge infusion of willfull suspension of disbelief or he's going to get kicked out of Hogwarts.   
• I've learned that Teaching Textbooks are awesome. My new math goal in the younger grades is just to get them ready for Teaching Textbooks by fifth grade. I'm so NOT a math mind.
• I've mostly figured out the driving and I live for Thursdays when I only have to take one child to one thing. The rest of the afternoons are painful. I don't like to drive. I do love my kids, though, and I see value in extracurricular activities. We sing a lot of Signing Time in the car. I love Rachel Coleman; she can get my baby to stop crying.
• I've learned that my husband is enjoying the sidebar photo albums and the chance to see the children's work as they do it.
• I've learned that Nicholas is not interested in learning letters out of order. He knows how to read and he doesn't care a whit about the letter quest someone else wrote. Instead, he wants to do the letter of the week with us and he's very, very serious about it. So, I've learned that I am going to have to write my own alphabet story. Fortunately, someone else is learning the same lessons and we can have some fun together with this one. Stay tuned; we're getting seriously creative here.
• Mostly, I've learned that learning takes fire in my house when I have time to think and to plan and to read and then I have the courage to let go of those plans and sit back and see where God wants them to go.
• Oh, and I've learned that in New Orleans (the site of Monday Night football this week), D is not for Donut at all. B is for Beignet.  And Daddy brought home beignet mix and we had to sell it to poor Nicky, who didn't want  to eat B food on D week. So,  D is Donuts from Dixie. We can cut them like Ds and Dust them with Domino sugar. They're Delicious.! See? Just keep tweaking until it fits.