10.14.2016

...When Webster's Needs an Update

Hnatiuk Family Dictionary

baby seat (n) -- the only seat in the mini van that has a perfect view of the baby; the direct cause of all car ride fighting.  [Circular definition: noted].
It's not fair he got the baby seat again! 

bad guys (n, plural; compound) -- any team that is not Notre Dame. 
Is Notre Dame beating those bad guys? 
Sadly, no.  No, they're not.

bee (n) -- synonym for a common house fly or any flying insect, typically used in fear. 

Cheerio (n, proper) -- the thing that falls from the breakfast table, dries, and will not come off the floor unless chiseled away.

Celebrating 97 years of Oma
chom-chom (v) [origin: Ukrainian] -- to kiss; (n) -- a kiss. 
I love giving you chom-choms.

disgusting (adj) -- used to describe any meal that does not consist of Pop Tarts or hot dogs. 
Why do you always make disgusting food?

electronics (n, plural) -- refers to Kindle, Wii, and Netflix. 
Now can we use electronics?

friend (n) -- used only in anger or as a threat. 
I will never be your friend again ever again!

An Early Morning
God (n, proper) -- the trump card played in all conversations. 
Who's faster: the Flash or Superman? 
God's the fastest!

"I don't remember" (sentence, declarative) -- guilt admission. 
Did you bite him!?  
I don't remember.

ice (n) -- the immediate exclamation to any bite/cut/fall/scrape.

inappropriate (adj) -- used to describe any show that is not animated. 
Mommy, Noah's watching something inappropriate!

Little Red Hen (n, proper) [used by: me] -- a phrase uttered to warn children of who will get to eat the vegetables from the garden if they refuse to water it. 
Kids, don't forget what happened in the Little Red Hen.


sweaty (adj) [used by: Noah] -- indicating an uncomfortable temperature of some sort. 
I'm too sweaty!  I need more blankets.

Tot (n, proper) [origin: Ukrainian] -- affectionate for "father." 
Tot and the Littles

"You're joking" (sentence, declarative) [used by: Noah] -- frustrated response of disbelief when Mom and Tot can't remember something. 
Do you know where my Lego guy is? 
No, I don't. 
Stop!  You're joking!


Yoma (n, proper) [pronounced: YAH-mo; origin: German; prefix: Yolanda] -- Nick's derived name for the kids' maternal grandmother; (sentence, exclamatory) [used by: Nick] -- a colloquial and familial greeting.
Yo, Ma!

7.17.2016

...When You Wish Your Toddler Said "No"

Gus.  Gus is my toddler.  He's my terrible two.  Emphasis on: terrible.  Why do I wish he'd say "no?"  I'm not gearing toward one of those pensively deep responses, like, if I teach him to say "no" in a safe environment, then he'll be able to say "no" to racism, sexism, violence, yadda-yadda-yaddaThat's all fine and dandy, but that's not what I'm getting at here.

Since Lucy's birth, I've had a number of people ask me, "So, what's it like with four?"  Honestly, it's about the same as three.  It's not too bad.  Except for GUS.
My sweet little one
Gus's recent behavior has made me delve into my memories: were my other two-year-olds this difficult?  First, there was Miriam.  She started her terrible two's at 18 months and they lasted until she was four and a half.  Stubborn as a mule and persistent as that caterpillar munching away all my arugula.  Miriam's tantrums would easily last an hour.  That was a "good" one.  A bad one could carry on for two.  "Why don't you distract her?"  Tried.  "Can't you just re-direct her?"  Nope.  She'd fixate on something and her fury would sound throughout the house to no end.  "Doesn't it tire her out?"  Apparently not. 
Miri, getting ready for a swim
Then, there was Noah.  Noah was much more easy-going than his big sis.  However, he would occasionally throw his version of a temper tantrum.  We nicknamed it the "Hulk SMASH."  If you sent him to his room for a time out, you ought to prepare for re-entry.  Not only would all the toys, puzzle pieces, blankets, and stuffed animals be strewn about, but so would every book from the book case... and the shelves from the book case.  As he got a little older, "Hulk SMASH" turned into "Hulk PEE."  His common retort being: "Fine!  Then I'm just going to pee all over the floor!"  And he'd pull down his pants and... yeah.  Thank goodness that's ended.
Noah's 4th Birthday (today!)
Now, a new dawn upon us: Gus.  Our linebacker, our dictator, our little Napoleon.  He's verbally constructed the toddler version of the middle finger.

"Gus, can you please get the step stool?"
"Never!"
"Gus, would you like cereal or oatmeal?"
"Never!"
"Gus, let's get a new diaper."
"Never!"

Any mundane task becomes a Civil War.  In my eyes, I'm the North; Gus is the South.  In Nick's eyes, he's Captain America; Gus is Iron Man.  Diaper changes, car seat bucklings, hair washings -- they're all exhausting, physical strains that seem to never end.  "Never" has become his battle cry.  There are days when I just wish my toddler would say "no."
Wish you weren't so cute

5.07.2016

...When You Crown Your Mother

Most days I feel like a terrible mother.  I either yell too much.  Or serve bad meals.  Or don't play enough.  Or forget all the house chores.  Or... who am I kidding? -- it's usually all of the above.  However, the other night, the kids were all tucked in, and I hear, "Mom!  Mom!"  Entering the bedroom, I can tell that they are all very upset about something.  "Mommy, we're scared.  What if the bad guys from Moses come and take our baby away to kill her?  Mommy, you need to give us holy water.  Lucy needs holy water!"  In the midst of my reassuring words that Jesus, Mom and Tot, and all the angels were protecting our baby, I, too, was reassured that something in my mothering must be clicking; because, in this moment, my children were portraying a deep connection both with their siblings as well as their faith.

In the way that Time always plays her tricks, April has come and gone.  We welcome May, the month of flowers, the month for mothers, and the month of our Holy Mom.  Having a new little life in our home to learn and to love, to cuddle with and care for, to hold and behold, encourages me to reflect upon the gift of motherhood.

My motherhood actually began with my experience of my own mother.  I remember all of us huddling on the couch, side-by-side, up above, and on laps, to listen to her read our favorite books like Stand Back Said the Elephant, I'm Going to Sneeze.  Sometimes we'd have to nudge her in between pages.  "Mom!  You fell asleep!"  Bleary-eyed, she'd force herself back into a wide-eyed state to finish the book.  Only now, when I feel the tap-tap and hear the Mom-Mom from my own kids, do I re-visit that memory with a fresh realism: there my mom was, squished on the couch, reading the same book for the twelfth time, nursing a newborn, and probably wishing we'd all just take a nap.  But, she kept reading.  Day after day, year after year. 

There are so many sacrifices I know my mom made for us, so many good examples she set, so much hard work in place.  Today, in my motherhood, I'd like to especially thank my mom for two things: Mom, thank you for raising me in faith, and thank you for my seven siblings.

On Faith
From an early age, my parents had us plugged into all types of Christian environments and communities.  I never got Girl Scout badges.  Instead, I earned Awana badges.  Every summer we went to VBS... sometimes more than one.  We experienced Bible studies and Lord's Days in our home, while seeking fellowship in City of the Lord and Life Teen programs.  Though it was our dad who led us through Bible studies and Passovers, it was our mom (and Psalty the Singing Song Book) who helped us connect with Jesus on a deeper level in our youth. 

Bedtime rituals often included devotional series.  One week, we might read through a book of angels.  Another week we would focus on moral dilemmas, using What Would Jesus Do?  While our dad led the adult Bible studies in the family room, my mom ushered all the children into the living room for a children's Bible study.  One summer, we performed a play and educational experience on Naaman for all the neighborhood kids.  Mom showed us that if she could cram all eight of us into a pew each Sunday by herself, we ought never to have an excuse to miss Mass in our adulthood.  We learned that faith was both an experience as well as a way of life.  It could mean hard work, but that encounter with God was worth it all.

On Siblings
We did everything together growing up.  We spent summers playing Risk, Monopoly, and Fortune 500.  We traded chores.  We made secret knocking codes on the wall to communicate between rooms at bedtime.  We laughed at the slowest sibling during swim lessons.  We formed clubs.  With theme songs.  We complained about piano lessons and washing dishes after spaghetti dinners.  We fought over the Super Nintendo controllers.  All the time.  To the point where we would set alarms in the morning during the summer, in order to claim a controller. 

As a mother of (only) four kids, I'm beginning to get a glimpse into my mom's life of raising eight.  It's hard to imagine twice the number of diapers, meals to prepare, and laundry to fold.  Double the amount of sleepless nights and fights to break up.  Then, add an extra three years of being pregnant.  However, being one of those eight kids, I am so grateful for those lasting, meaningful, love-fight relationships.  Her openness to life gifted me with seven wonderful siblings here on earth and one I look forward to meeting in heaven.

Thank you, Mom, for your sacrifices.  Thank you for these priceless gifts.  This Mother's Day, I want to crown you!
Gus turns two... tomorrow!
Grandma came all the way from Michigan to meet Lucy!


Lucy Margaret, born March 29



Superman's new sidekick
Miri turned five!

One more of the newbie