TheDad and I are both visual people. If one of the kids has written a story for school, I need them to hand me the notebook rather than read it aloud to me. And if there’s anything on the calendar that TheDad needs to know about, I email him. If he sees it in writing, he’s more likely to remember than if I just say it to him.

Even so, this morning’s conversation borders on the ridiculous.

This morning as the snooze alarm went off for the fourth time, I put my hand on TheDad’s shoulder and told him it was time to wake up (this little game we play begins at 5 AM.)

“Didn’t you get my email?” he mumbled. “I’m not waking up until 8:30 today.”

Over the years I have gotten fairly used to people’s weird comments about my kids’ age spread (they’re 16, 12 and 6).

Not like it’s any of their business, but people can’t seem to help themselves but comment about these things.

Normally people insinuate that someone was, um, “unplanned” (and I’m putting that way more charitably than they usually do). And for the record, nobody was.

But today, there was a new one. I was sitting there in the dentist’s chair, captive, while she waited for my mouth to get numb, and she asked how old my kids are now. So I told her.

“Oh….Are they all from the same marriage?”

“Yes, they are,” I told her, and I left it at that. Fortunately, so did she.

Danielle Bean’s column at Inside Catholic today is a very true one. Have a look!

I think there’s a reason that the Church wants us to remember that Christmas is more than just a day. It’s a whole season! It takes us that long to get through it all. And honestly–all that preparation for just one day? I don’t think so. Make it last! You can’t manage it in 24 hours. You need a whole season–not to pack as much in as possible, but to give yourself time to savor Christmas.

We always need a break after “The Great 3 Days”–Christmas Eve with my in-laws at a huge family reunion (150 mile round trip); Christmas day at home with Grandma and Grandpa for dinner; Day After Christmas with my side of the family (250 mile round trip). By yesterday all of us had “hit the wall.” Big Brother needed to get Out Of The House, or more accurately, Away From The Family. Little Brother was bouncing off the walls. Middle Sister was on the phone as continuously as possible. And TheDad and I just wanted to escape into the books we got for Christmas. And I think all of that was just being overwhelmed by all the driving, packing, wrapping, baking, cleaning, visiting, and eating that has been done in the past few days.

So it was good to catch up on laundry and make Middle Sister’s birthday cake and have a simple spaghetti dinner and have some time to read one of the books I got for Christmas. (Oh yeah, and dive into that box of candy I got on Christmas Eve). And today it will be good to catch up on grocery shopping and put fresh sheets on the beds, and have a simple dinner of “western omelet” quiche and the rest of that birthday cake, if Little Brother hasn’t filched all the “funfetti” off the icing.

Where was this post yesterday when I really needed it?

Let’s just say it wasn’t a fabulous afternoon around here, and cookie-baking wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

The following notice is hanging on the television in the family room right now. When my children come home from the various places they’ve spent Saturday afternoon, they will read (or have read to them, in Little Brother’s case):

If you are old enough to carry food and drink out of the kitchen,

Then you are old enough to return your cans, bottles, cups, dishes, bowls, and trash to the kitchen when you are done.

See to it. The Great Oz has spoken.

This just in: a grandfather is suspected of using a toddler to help him steal purses at a Jersey Shore boardwalk.

And yesterday Middle Sister overheard a grandmother calling her young granddaughter “dummy.” This really upset Middle Sister. “That grandmother is such a put-downer!” she said.

I can’t imagine what I’d feel like if I ever heard that my parents or in-laws insulted one of my children, much less used them for a criminal activity.

Please join me today in praying for those children who are not blessed with the kind of grandparents kids dream of having. The kind who read them books, treat them to cupcakes with extra frosting, take them for walks in the woods, wear sweatshirts advertising their athletic teams, build computers for them, show them their latest project-in-progress, laugh at knock-knock jokes they’ve heard 100 times, and make sure to stock their favorite cookies. The kind my kids are blessed to have.

Despite the fact that I religiously follow Notre Dame football, TheDad and I believe that sports, Scouting, and other clubs and activities don’t take first place to family and faith. Father Jay has had it up to here with people who put God last because of children’s activities. He’s so right. I hope he slips copies of this into his church bulletins this Sunday.

They’re safe. They’re happy. They’re FILTHY.

I don’t normally do laundry on Sundays, but I can’t leave all this smelly stuff too long. So after their showers, I’ll be starting a 24-hour laundry marathon. We’re beginning to realize, though, that those showers could take a while. This is the first indoor plumbing they’ve enjoyed in over a week.