You Know You Chose the Right Man When...

...you return from a five-day solo trip to California and the first thing he says to you, after a long weekend of cooking and cleaning and bathing and reading and driving and keeping score at a basketball tournament, is...

I want to be a stay-at-home dad.

:)

And then he gets up the next morning at 6:30am and goes to work so that you don't have to.

We've Come a Long Way, Baby

In a lifeless kitchen, a Northern Oriole whistled, marking the sixth hour after noon.

She said: Hey, um, are you waiting for me to make you a special anniversary dinner?

He said: I was about to ask you the same thing. You sure are presumptuous with your expectations.

She said: I'm not expecting diamonds or a trip to Hawaii. Do you want to just go to that Thai restaurant we've been wanting to try?

He said: All seven of us? (our live-in babysitter is visiting friends in Virginia) Sounds romantic.

She said: It might not be too bad.

He said: I'll start peeling some potatoes.

Life Is Good

Happiness is coming home from a mom's meeting to find all of the kids asleep in bed and your husband down on his knees scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Now if he would only notice the pile of dirty clothes in the closet....


(Just kidding, Jimmy.)

June Cleaver I Am Not

I was really hoping to avoid the nasty little virus working its way through the blogs these days...you know, that ABCs of Homemaking meme. I so did not want to go there and definitely did not want to hang the boring, humbling, nitty gritty details of my laundry for all of my blogging world to see. But apparently that insidious little blogger named Margaret had nothing better to do in all of that Minnesotan snow than to call me by name. Somehow I just can't bring myself to say no to such a dear friend and faithful commenter (and I fear if I do, I may never be tagged again), so here goes....

(I hope this also qualifies as my contribution to It Is What It Is. I'm sorry, but you won't be seeing any photos. I have my limits for humiliation.)

Aprons – Y/N
Well, I've had an old, stained, canvas one for years, but I rarely remember to wear it…until it is too late. I remember more often ever since I found this cheerful one at the Euro Store. Honestly, it looks much better on her. (What wouldn’t?)

Baking – Favorite thing to bake:
I’m with Margaret…did you say bake or eat? Because I much prefer the latter. The bakeries are so incredibly wonderful here, offering tantalizing works of edible art for mere euro cents--- it really doesn’t make much sense to bake. At least that’s how I justify it. My two oldest girls, however, love to bake anything sweet, and they pretty much do it on their own. My husband enjoys creating the most beautiful birthday cakes. As you can see, there’s really no need for me to bother.

I do hope to try baking bread after we return to the US, even if it's just throwing ingredients into a machine. I will really miss our fresh Belgian bread each day---the baguettes, oh the baguettes.

Clothesline – Y/N?
I’m afraid not. I do believe I have more of an excuse than Kristen in sunny Orange County...but even in Orange County, I probably wouldn’t either, except for beach towels.

Donuts – Have you ever made them?
I don’t think so. Surely I would remember, wouldn’t I? Actually, I think I made them once with my youth group in high school. Does that count? I have made my grandmother’s apple fritters, which are sweet dough deep-fried around apple slices and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Sort of like donuts. Even better, methinks.

Every day – One homemaking thing you do every day:
Why is everyone saying, “only one?” Because I can’t think of a single one that I myself do everyday. Well, I do feed my family everyday, usually cooked food. And I do move piles from room to room each day. Oh, and there is always at least one toileting issue to deal with. I guess I do have more than one homemaking thing that I do everyday.

Freezer – Do you have a separate deep freeze?
No deep freeze, though I think it would be a lovely addition since I do our major commissary shopping only once a month. We do have an extra refrigerator courtesy of the Army, and that extra freezer space really helps. Not that I ever fill it with frozen casseroles or anything practical. More like ice cream and Boboli crusts.

Garbage Disposal – Y/N?
You mean besides my husband? Actually, my father was a much better one than my husband will ever be. We do not have a garbage disposal in our sink---perhaps because Belgian plumbing seems to be notoriously rotten and perpetually clogged. They do collect the compost bin every other week, and I don't really miss having a disposal.

Handbook – What is your favorite homemaking resource?
My wise friends at 4Real. Of course. I want you to know that in no way do I hold you responsible for my poor implementation of your simply elegant and efficient ideas, except that you keep me on the computer far too much.

Ironing – Love it or hate it?
Hate is a very strong word that I try not to use. Let’s just say that my poor husband is ironing his shirts as I write this.

Junk drawer – Y/N? Where is it?
Maybe this is my problem. (one of many, that is) I don’t have a junk drawer, just piles of random junk scattered throughout the house. Sigh.

Kitchen: Design & Decorating?
We live in a rental house now with ugly tan tile, basic beige cabinets and faux marble counters. It’s a contemporary, European style that is definitely not mine. The last kitchen that I was able to design had cherry cabinets, eggplant walls (meaning that they were painted a deep purple, not that they had leftovers splattered all over them), and a mossy green tile floor. It was rich and warm and I loved it. Not sure what my next one will look like, but it definitely won't be neutral. What do you think is better for a kitchen floor---hardwood or tile?

Love – What is your favorite part of homemaking?
Naps. Oh, and getting a front row seat for all of the funny and smart and creative and loving things my kids do. They are not perfect, but they are by far the best part of life, along with their daddy.

Mop – Y/N?
Yes, once a week, by my beloved maid, Ania. Were it not for this hard-working Polish ex-pat, the answer would be…not so much (i.e. only when my poor husband can’t take it anymore and pulls it out himself).

Nylons – Wash by hand or in the washing machine?
I rarely wear nylons, and they seem to snag before ever needing to be washed. I do wash my tights by hand, but the girls’ usually go in the washer.

Oven – Do you use the window or open the oven to check?
We use the grill. I guess I should clarify that…my husband uses the grill. Okay, sometimes he is late from work and then I do use the oven and---horror of Good Housekeeping horrors---I do crack the door to check. I would use the window if I could see through it. (Kidding, I'm kidding.)

Pizza – What do you put on yours?
My husband makes the pizzas around here (by now you are wondering if there is anything I do in this home...trust me, he has been wondering that very thought for years), and he puts anything and everything (within reason---no anchovies or fruit) on them. I love white pizza with fresh tomato and marinated artichoke hearts, but I’ll snarf down the works just as easily.

Quiet – What do you do during the day when you get a quiet moment?
I have six children with the gift of gab. (I had so hoped it would be true that boys are more nonverbal.) A quiet moment during the day is exactly that…a moment. Just long enough for me to catch my breath and (almost) unscramble my thoughts. My quiet moments come during the night, when everyone else is asleep. Lately I spend that time with my friends, soaking up the sisterhood and wisdom at 4Real and visiting them individually at their inspiring blogs. (Big surprise there.)

Recipe card box – Y/N?
Yes. And a folder of random recipes printed off the computer. And a gallon-size Ziploc bag, overflowing with haphazard scraps of paper and cardboard, some scribbled by my mother’s hand eons ago.I am going to organize it all…one of these days…no, really, I am.

Style of house:
My husband describes it as a Belgian house that the Brady bunch might have had. Picture the 70s with a European flair. It’s a split-level, but not in the American sense---we have six half levels altogether. No carpeting, all tile and marble. A 3'x5' brick planter in the entryway and a funky black metal fireplace (that I've grown to love) in the middle of the living/dining room. Three bathrooms with tubs/showers and sinks and three toilet rooms with toilets and sinks---did I mention how much I love my maid?

Tablecloths and napkins – Y/N?
Cloth napkins everyday, as long as I’ve done the laundry. (Too many paper ones lately.) Tablecloths for special occasions and seasons.

Under the kitchen sink – Organized or toxic wasteland?
Somewhat organized. Not that bad. Really. (My overly honest daughter might disagree.)

Vacuum – How many times per week?
Twice per week, but not by me. Once by the maid, once by my daughters.

Wash – How many loads of laundry do you do per week?
Okay, this is one that I do. (And it only took me to W to find one.) 8-10 loads per week. I sort and wash by bedroom (theoretically), which makes it easier to put away (theoretically). I really try to have it all done by Friday, so that I can take the weekend off. Of course, our electric company just changed its rates so that electricity costs about half as much on the weekends. I may have to give up my laundry-free Saturdays. Sigh.

X’s – Do you keep a daily list of things to do that you cross off?
I write lots of lists. And then I misplace them before I have the chance to cross them off. The really sad thing is that even when I find the lists weeks (or months) later, I still can’t cross off things because I still haven't done them. Sigh and smile.

Yard – Y/N?
Who does what?You guessed it, I’m sure. My husband does the yardwork.

Zzz’s – What is your last homemaking task for the day before going to bed?
Am I supposed to do a homemaking task before going to bed? Does brushing my teeth count?Lately, I’ve been falling asleep as I tuck in my babies. (You are supposed to get under the covers when you tuck in your babies, aren’t you?) I’m absolutely sure that loving your little ones to sleep is one of the essential tasks in making a good home. It’s certainly one of the most enjoyable.

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

As I read this list over, I realize that it must look like I am a total slacker. I do admit that I did marry wisely. Can I be blamed if my husband likes to serve? In my defense, there are many things I do that weren't on the list...like, um...vacation planning...and, um...gift buying...and, well, I'm sure there must be many other things that I just can't think of right now. And despite how it sounds, my home is not dirty, just a bit, you might say, cluttered. Believe me, I would call Robin Puckertucker right now...if I could only find his number.

Just so you know, I do not take the vocation of being a homemaker lightly, and I really am aiming to be more like that Proverbs 31 gal. It's just not something that comes naturally to me in many ways. I absolutely love being at home with my kids, but I'm not that great at pulling it all together, primarily due to a lack of organization, self-discipline, and know-how.

My mother, God love her, was not exactly the best teacher of Homemaking 101. She was a gentle, easygoing mother of nine whose very phlegmatic nature would often lead her to choose lying down to read a novel over organizing the pantry or taking us to the beach (where she could lie on a blanket to read a novel) over scrubbing the bathroom. I can't exactly say that I blame her. More often than I'd like to admit, I follow in her footsteps, although I am more likely to turn on the computer than to open a book. (I'm working on it.) She did teach me that children were the most important part of life, and I can't imagine there is a homemaking lesson more significant than that.

One final thought...right before I graduated from Notre Dame, my dorm voted me Most Likely to Be a Happy Homemaker. Probably because they viewed me as too unambitious to have a real career. I can't think of any career that could ever make me happier. Now, this is Real.

(If you've read this far, let me applaud you for your endurance and thank you for your faithful readership, let me apologize for allowing this post to grow so long, and let me invite you to reexamine your priorities and your use of time. Obviously, I have the gift of gab like my dear children, at least when it comes to writing. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to label it the gift of blab.)

As for the toss...I had planned to tag Karen, but she just couldn't wait. Is there anyone left who still wants to play? Kristina? Maria?

A Love Story

Forty-one years ago today, a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old chemistry professor and his beautiful nineteen-year-old sweetheart eloped to Dearborn, Michigan. In those days, you had to be twenty-one to get a marriage license in Ohio without your parent's permission, and the girl's mother refused to sign because she wanted her daughter---her first child to go to college---to graduate. As a child, I viewed my grandmother as terribly unromantic and controlling whenever I heard this story. As a mother, I am quite a bit more sympathetic to her point of view. Still, as the baby that was born from this union ten months later, I can't exactly say that I think they should have waited. My mother did go on to graduate. Two babies later. With the help of many babysitting hours from her mother.

Shortly before my parents married, they met with my mother's doctor to discuss the mysterious illness she had suffered at sixteen. Her parents had never talked to her about it; they simply took her for the treatments and she didn't dare to ask more. The doctor informed my parents that my mother had come close to dying from Hodgkin's Disease, that she had received extensive radiation treatments, and that she may never be able to conceive and bear a child. She was in complete remission, but no one knew how long it would last. Without missing a beat, my dear father took the hand of the girl he loved and told her, "We'll take what we can get."

What they got was nine healthy children. And a life filled with love and adventure, laughter and tears. They remained happy and grateful for their love throughout the years, and they complemented each other so well. My father was a dreamer, and my mother let him be. He took care of her, and she took care of us. There were financial ups and downs, but my mother stood beside him through it all. She once wrote to my father's parents that she had never met a finer man. I could not have asked for a better model of true love.

After the birth of their ninth child, they discovered that my mother's heart was not working properly, an aftereffect of the heavy radiation she had received. She was placed on medication and began a nine year journey of gradual decline, unbeknownst to any of us for the most part. She collapsed on the evening of the baptism of her first grandchild, my daughter Elena, who had been named after my mother without my knowing what was to come. Six weeks later, on the feast of Our Lady of Fatima, she passed from this life. As she lay dying, she wrote these final words to my father: "We always said we'd take what we could get. We have been very blessed."

Indeed.

Sometimes I do the right thing

This afternoon, after our long day of final soccer games, my husband asked me to take a nap with him. My initial reaction was...ARE YOU CRAZY? I had a million reasons to say no. My in-laws were arriving back from Germany tonight and the house was a wreck, I'm way behind on school planning, and several baskets of clothes are waiting to be folded. Surely, he would understand that I couldn't just stop and take a nap with him. Of course I should tell him maybe tomorrow.

But I didn't. I took a nap. Because he is the most precious person in the world to me, and sometimes I have to show him that. He needs to know that I will drop everything for him. Even when it doesn't fit with my plans. Especially when it doesn't fit with my plans.

And you know what? He got up before me, went grocery shopping, and made dinner. (I married well.) The house wasn't perfect when my in-laws arrived, but I think they were grateful to be met by a son who was content and felt loved.

Really...when you think about it...clean the house or take a nap with your beloved? It's really a no-brainer. Just wish I could get it right more often.