Discouraged

There are layers of problems in my life.  I want to solve one thing, only to realize it hinges on something else that needs fixed.  I live in an almost constant state of frustration over things that I feel like I have no control over.

A week or so ago, our hot water went out because the basement was flooding, due to the main (only) drain backing up.  The plumbers 'fixed' it, no guarantee--of course... and today... I had to take an icy cold shower.  John was a half hour late to work, trying to light the pilot, kneeling in icky sewage water.  (Thank goodness for this man who loves me so much.)

The fix was no fix.  We've been expecting this for years.  Every year, the plumbers unclog the drain with the warning that we really need to replace the drain pipe.  This would cost us thousands of dollars, and it will be a major pain in the butt.  (Digging up the yard, turning off the water, etc.) 

Well, it looks like we may have run out of luck and will need to do this. 

I feel weighed down.  I have personal issues that are mine alone.  They aren't family things, or marriage things.  These are my own private struggles between me and God.  Those things alone can (and do) bring me to my knees in discouragement.  Like everyone, I have temptations.  I have weaknesses.  I have faults.  I have sins.  The only bright spot in this is that I know that in order to bear fruit, I must be crushed like the grapes that become the wine.  So, I bear the crushing in order to bring forth something fruitful.

So, in utter humility, I plead with God to help me through this dark night of my soul.  It has its peaks and valleys, it isn't all despair and gloom.  But, when it is, it takes every ounce of my strength to cope.

And then...there is...life in general.  Keeping up with the bills.  God has never let us go without, but we have chosen the path of family life, with a houseful of kids and a large grocery bill.  And all the accompanying things--clothing, shelter, utilities x8.  I don't want this to sound at all like a complaint.  I would never choose to change a single thing about my family.  Each member of the Elliott family is dearest and most precious to my heart.  The money is a passing issue, but their very lives are everything. 

Add into the mix the very real problem of the HOUSE.  This house, on most days, looks like it has been burglarized.  Drawers left open.  Stuff on the floor.  A real disaster area.  I have always been one to crave an orderly home.  I don't care if it is a showplace, I'm not that picky.  But, this is not acceptable.  I have all but given up.  That makes me so angry with myself because I have NEVER been a person to give up.  I'm very stubborn.  When I want to be working on something vital, it always gets pushed aside because I have to do recovery mode with the house. 

 I am so tired.  I've been running on empty for the last decade.  I think I've really done an honest to goodness 'best attempt' at being the best mom and wife I know how to be.  But I have somehow failed miserably in the area of teaching these people how to be responsible.  I don't know what happened.  I am supremely angry with myself for this.  I would chalk it up to personality, but each kid has a different personality, so I can't use that as an 'out'.  They all seem to be unconcerned that this house is a wreck and I am the only one who cares.  (John helps when he can.  This is not about him.) 

I have tried talking and explaining how this impacts me.  I have tried ordering them around.  The only thing I haven't done (but many people have urged me to do this) is to start throwing away things that matter to them.  I guess that's my weak spot.  I really hate to do that. 

Now, I don't want to give the impression that they are doing this on purpose to annoy me.
They are good kids/young adults.  They do love me.  They just don't care about neatness, so they think I should just forget about it, too.  I tend to always try to see the good in all things.  I see that I have children who are very interesting, intelligent, thoughtful, fun people.  When I'm really feeling low, they are there with hugs and prayers, and words of encouragement. 

There is that ONE thing, though...that big white elephant in the room...they are all Oscar Madisons and I'm a Felix Unger.

Ah well.  I've said enough on this subject and it does no good.  Time to plow thru the mess and try to make things a little neater for my own sake.

HUGSxxxAnnie

Yummy and fast recipe invented by ME!

I have a confession to make: I love pizza.  I also love Velveeta cheese.  So, when I make my own pizza, I usually make one of the pizzas with Velveeta as a topping.  Some of my kids love that, too.

I have an extremely easy and quick way to have a 'pizza'--hot and ready to eat--in less than 3 minutes!  Yes, you saw that right!  If you don't like Velveeta, that's okay, you can substitute mozzarella for it.

What you need:

2 soft flour tortillas
1 jar of your favorite spaghetti sauce (mine happens to be Ragu)
Velveeta (I use the low fat variety--it tastes every bit as rich and cheesy as its full fat cousin)

**feel free to add pepperoni, cut up peppers, or precooked bacon, grated parmesan or romano cheese, if you like

Spread about 1 to 2 tbs. of sauce on top of one tortilla with spoon.  Top with grated cheese (if desired), place other tortilla on top of that.  Spread 2 tbs. sauce on tortilla, then place thin slices of Velveeta on top of that.  (Space them out.)  Microwave for 1 to 1:30 minutes.  Enjoy!!!

You might have to eat this with a fork, it tends to  be messy! 

HUGSxxxAnnie

Simmering thoughts and boiling memories

I used to keep a journal...I kept it almost daily for about 20 years and it kind of fizzled at that point.  I think because I write online, I lost my enthusiasm for the notebook.

One of these days I am going to look up my entry from September 11, 2001.  JohnPaul would have been three years old, and the other kids were all school age.  Maria was in 1st grade, Tony--3rd, Jacob--6th, and Ian--9th.  I remember the weather vividly because it was one of those ideal late summer days...the sun was shining, the sky was blue, the air was fresh, and there were barely any clouds to be seen.

After having seen the kids all out the door, I remember having something exciting to report to my mom (now I don't remember what it was), so I hurriedly rang her on the phone.  When she answered, I was anxious to jump right in an tell her my news, but she cut me off.  "Did you see the news?"  It was just after 9:00 and I had not put the TV on. 

 I answered her, "No."  She told me something strange had happened, that an airplane had struck a sky scraper in NYC. 

The magnitude of that didn't hit me yet.  I figured a pilot made an error in judgment and was flying too low or something.  I pictured a single passenger plane.

So, I said, "Hmmm, that's wierd.", then continued my story.  She seemed rather distracted and said maybe I might want to put my TV on, so we said 'goodbye' and I turned the tube on.

The Today Show was on.  I remember sitting there with JohnPaul, watching the recap of the collision, when the 2nd plane hit the towers.  That's when I knew something was really wrong.  I could not believe what I had just seen happen live.

We stayed glued to the TV most of the day.  It was surreal.  Life changed that day in many ways...

When I decide to get my notebook journal out, if I see anything posted in it of interest, I will share it on here.  It might not say much of anything; I actually do not remember writing anything. 

So, here we are, coming up on the 10th anniversary of this tragedy.  I seems crazy to think about that being 10 years!  Shortly after that, John's mother was diagnosed with cancer, and given two weeks to live.  She died in December, just a few weeks before Therese was born. 

Today I sent Therese off to her first day of 4th grade.  JohnPaul, who was three years old that day, went to his first day of 8th grade.  Maria is now a high school junior, and the three young men are Penn Staters. 

In that decade, my hair has become streaked with grays.  I have become a different type of mom than I was then--no longer the pregnant and harried mom of babies and little kids, but the mature mother of mostly young adults.


10 years.  Wow.



HUGSxxxAnnie

Home, sweet home...or not?

Sometimes my house frustrates me.  It is in very poor condition, is too small, is crowded, and cluttered.  I never wanted to live here, I accepted it as our first home because John lived here and inherited it when his father died.

I always dreamt I would get to pick out the home that fit my needs and desires.  I've never been a person to take things for granted.  I was raised by parents who didn't indulge my whims, so I appreciated everything I had.

So-- the home I would pick wouldn't be this---

Now, don't get me wrong, this is beautiful and a tempting idea.  But, I could be happier with a LOT less.  Take for instance these cottages---

These little seaside and/or rustic and woodsy cottages appeal sooooo much to my heart.  <3

But seriously, I would be thankful to have a home with a front porch (for sitting with my honey, and for rainstorms), 2 baths (one bath ain't cutting it with so many Elliotts), at least one REAL shower (we have an ancient bathtub rigged with a handheld shower), storage space(we have NO space so we can't put anything away, ever--thus, insane CLUTTER), and decent plumbing, siding, windows, doors, and electric.  Ours are all outdated, except for half the windows that we had replaced several years ago, and our back door which is not too old.

Something that I find annoying is the lack of things that work.  My work is primarily in the kitchen, and things there are as up to date as they were in 1940.  I don't have a dishwasher, nor do I have room for one, even if I had the money to buy one.  The plumbing is so ancient that to fill a pitcher or coffee pot takes about 3 minutes.  I set it in the sink, then go about doing other tasks while it fills up.

I've said this before and I will say it again: I do not like to complain.  So, I want to say this: I have so many blessings, that to complain about these little irritations would not be my style. 

I'm basically working up to a point here--I think that God permits small disappointments because it teaches us a lesson.  In my case, I think He is assisting me in that He does not want me to get too attached to wordly goods.  And you know what?  It's definitely working!  I am not attached to this house, believe me!!!

My home has many priceless memories.  John carried me over the threshhold after we were married.  I was still in my gown, and he in a tux. 

All of our children were raised in this house, and this is where we've celebrated birthdays, holidays, and every day family stuff.

We have prayed together here, broke bread together, hosted parties, and consoled one another during sorrowful times.

I think God knows that my heart can be more fully devoted to Him if certain desires go unsatisfied.  It draws me closer to Him because I know He is the only true remedy for that restlessness. 

HUGSxxxAnnie

Keeping things in my heart

There's a passage in the bible about Mary--how she kept 'all these things in her heart'.  (Paraphrased) As a mom, I can relate!

Each one of my kids has my entire heart, and I love them all with the ferocity of a mother lion.  I long to see them blossom into the fullness of who they are as humans, and as members of the Body of Christ.

Today we will celebrate, at a local eatery, our 3rd born child's high school graduation! 

I remember when I was pregnant with Tony, I wondered how John and I would juggle our kids now.  With two boys, we could 'tag team' them, and keep the upper hand.  With three little ones, how would we deal with that?  (Short of growing a few extra hands.)

I was still nursing Jacob when I discovered I was expecting, so the first order of business was to wean him.  I remember feeling so sorry for him the first night I refused to nurse him.  His big eyes stared up at me with expectancy. I kissed his little silky soft head, told him to go to sleep, then went to my own room and bawled.

Tony arrived on October 10th shortly before dawn.  I didn't have a name picked out.  John and I had tried to choose one, but weren't successful.  It took several hours to settle on Anthony Ryan.  We picked Anthony because during childbirth, we had a big scare, and turned to St. Anthony for assistance.  John had a rosary from St. Anthony's shrine in Italy (a gift from my friend, JoAnne) in his pocket.  He began to pray at my side during the crisis. 

Also, my mom's name is Antoinette, so we thought it would be nice for him to bear his grandma's name. 

Tony was, from the start, a very easy baby to love.  He had the largest brown eyes I ever saw, and even when he was happy, they had a 'sadness' to them.  John and I jokingly hummed the theme to the old tv show, 'My Three Son's' now.  Three boys!  We felt incredibly blessed by God.

As Tony grew, it was apparent that he had a special bond with Jacob, who was just two years older than he.  When he would stumble and fall, he would cry out, 'Deecob', then toddle to him.  Jacob has always had a compassionate personality, and he would wrap his tiny arms around his 'brudder', and soothe him. 

When Tony was about 11 months old, and teething, he began to use me as his teether.  I developed a breast infection!  Painful!!!  The doctor put me on an antibiotic and I decided it was time to wean him.  I really didn't want to until he was ready, but the pain had me reduced to tears each time he wanted to nurse.

Then I realized something.  I was 'late'.  I asked the pharmacist if the meds I was taking for the infection could affect my cycle, and he answered 'no.'  That's how I found out I was expecting Maria.

Being the 3rd born out of 6, I see that Tony has a good handle on life.  He's laid back in all things, doesn't stress out.  He thinks life should be enjoyed, is quite balanced in all things.  I admire that quality in him.  He isn't concerned with having all the latest gadgets, not that they don't interest him.  He just seems to have that quality known as temperance.

Tony is kind.  I don't believe I've ever known him to purposely hurt anyone.  In one of the plays he acted in, he had to shout angrily.  That is the first time I (or anyone he knows) has heard him raise his voice!  (With one exception--lol--Maria has actually provoked him to that point, but that's who SHE is.)

I love that Tony likes to cook.  When he was a tiny child, he wanted to own his own pizzeria.  Then he went through the phase where he wanted to be a farmer.  (He said he could not be one, however, because he 'didn't own any overalls'.)  He quickly moved onto more sophisticated interests.  His skill and talent with how things work always amazed me.  Any time he played with toys, he would  disassemble them and put them back together in ways that were unexpected.  He cut half the face off of an action figure and replaced it with the half off another one, creating a two faced monster.

He designed his own Halloween costumes and even sewed some of them himself.  Hallween is his favorite time of year, and he still loves to dress up. 

He taught himself how to make and edit movies...he is highly gifted in that area.  His movies are really creative!

When he was only 15 years old, he began to date Miranda.  I thought he might be a bit young, but here he is, three years later, and still with her.  He is very kind and good to her.  He likes to cook for her (pizza, pepperoni roll, fried rice, soups, eggs, chicken), and she has become like one of my own children.

I can see that Tony will make a heck of a daddy some day.  When Therese was a baby and toddler, he would always be willing to lend a hand.  I watched him soothe her when she had fallen, washing her wound, and covering it with dressing.  I often saw him getting her a drink or helping her reach something.  What a satisfying thing it is to see your little boy becoming a man.

Tony also has a wonderful sense of humor.  His best friend since grade school is Eddie 'Spaghetti'--how appropriate for someone with the moniker Tony 'Baloney'.  They're both gentle soft spoken young men with good hearts and intelligent minds. 

I'm so thankful for my Tony!  Now, he is enrolled at Penn State and will pursue his degree in Letters, Arts, and Sciences (heavy on the arts).  Way to go, Tony!!!

Congratulations to a wonderful young man.  I love you so much, Tony.

SMILESxxxAnnie

The Murder Room

Like vitamins, books are part of my daily requirement for a healthy life.  I read every day, but only rarely does a book earn the 'Annie's WOW recommendation'.  The Murder Room, by Michael Capuzzo, has earned it.

I recommend it to those few individuals with a certain personality type--you must have a stomach for murder (and all its accompanying unpleasantness), you must enjoy unsolved mysteries, and you must love a good character or two...or three.

If you are put off by graphic forensic descriptions--WARNING!!!--do not read this book.  If you are put off by graphic psychological profiles (of extremely twisted minds)--WARNING!!!--do not read this book.

If you love to probe the workings of detectives and forensic psychologists; if you crave the satsifaction of a cold case finally solved...this book will satisfy!

The author is astonishing in all ways.  His research is exhaustive--from biographical, to the investigative, to the very last details (even down to the weather on any given date)--I am one impressed reader.  He has a delightful way with words, too..."The studio was very still.  Far off he heard a sound like the sea breaking, but it was only the ceaseless pounding of cars on the expressway."

I was introduced to three distinct real life characters--Bender, Fleisher, and Walter--the founding members of the Vidocq Society.  Their personalities came to life in the pages of The Murder Room in such a way that I found myself truly touched to 'know' them. 

What makes a person, such as myself, intrigued by this dark work?  Why am I so compelled to read and understand these things that should not exist? 

I'm not a CSI hanger-on.  It all started long ago, way before this modern trend of TV shows--Law & Order, CSI, Criminal Minds.  I was a child who loved to read Nancy Drew and other mysteries.  I quickly graduated to Mary Higgins Clark and any other whodunit that I could lay my hands on.  When I was 14, I borrowed a comprehensive study of Jack the Ripper from the school library.

The book, a hardbound text, was my introduction to the depravity of the psychopath.  My innocent soul was shocked by the gory serial murders.  I couldn't stop reading, though.  I felt this need to understand why a person would do such a ghastly thing.  Crude photographs of the crime scenes, and reprints of the local newspaper's articles from that time were clues that I set out to analyze.

Never mind that I wasn't the first person to do so.  The murders took place a hundred years before, and had been looked at countless times.  No one had solved these crimes.  No matter, I wanted to understand...

When I was a newly married woman of twenty one, my husband worked nights.  He left at 3:00 in the afternoon and didn't return until sometime after 3:00 in the morning.  I sat up most nights, reading about Ted Bundy or other serial killers.  Most nights, I kept the lamp burning until he walked in, and only then could I relax and fall asleep.  How stupid and silly I was, but I couldn't seem to help myself.  I can't say how many times I heard strange noises in the night, my heart pounding with fear that I would meet one of the maniacs I read about. 

Just lately I have discovered (and blogged about--see my earlier entries) that my great grandmother may have had a close encounter with H. H. Holmes, America's 'first' serial killer.  There is now evidence that Holmes and Jack the Ripper are one and the same.  A handwriting expert from London has verified that some of the Ripper's letters and Holmes' writing, through analysis, are one and the same.  (How oddly appropriate that is in relation to my ghoulish pasttime.)

In the tapestry of life, there are threads that weave all over, but are still one thread.   Imagine my surprise when one day several months ago, I began an online friendship with the great great grandson of H. H. Holmes.  Who needs fiction when you have real life?

(I assure all my readers--Jeff Mudgett has not inherited H. H. Holmes' taste for torture.  LOL.  He is a kind, honorable man, as well as an epilepsy advocate and published author.)

SMILESxxxAnnie

So much at stake...

Jesus is an honest to goodness flesh and blood man.  Scripture tells us He is like us in ALL ways, except sin.  He is also God.  That mystery has been studied, analyzed, meditated upon, and so much more for over 2000 years.  It will never be possible to completely wrap our minds around the mystery of the God/Man.

Did you ever wonder what would  have happened if He had (gasp!) sinned?  We wouldn't have been redeemed.  There would no longer be any chance that anyone could enter into Heaven. 

I've thought about that, but today, something else occurred to me.  If Jesus had sinned, what would have become of HIM?  He is God, but as a man, he would have deserved Hell with everyone else.  God is all HOLY, that means WHOLE.  He cannot be divided.  We know that, and Jesus proved it.  But, in his sufferings and temptations, Satan worked to divide God.  I don't know what would have happened if Satan had succeeded.  Isn't that a really strange thought?! 

I'm not sure if Satan fully knew who Jesus was, but I guess he might have suspected.  He must have pulled out all the stops in regards to temptations.  I've had some strong temptations in my life, so I shudder to think of what He put Jesus through.  My own struggles would be like a grain of sand in the Sahara desert in comparison.

When I think of that, I feel even more confident in Jesus' power to protect and shield me from evil.  He is the 'Triumphant One'. 

How could we not feel indebted to Him for this tremendous gift?  That which He did for you and for me? 

HUGSxxxAnnie