Fingerpainting

Last week when we went to Target Bella spied the tubes of finger paints. "What's this, Mama?" Oh twist my arm! She didn't even ask; but I pulled them off the shelf and she refused to put them in the cart. She carried them all the way to the checkout.



I am getting much, much more relaxed about messy crafts. The girls do them during Ben's morning nap. They wash off. All is good.



Look how happy they are!



I love the one finger technique. But for such a dainty painting style, they still make quite the mess!

[3] comments (141 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

St Gianna Molla and Abortion

This passage really struck me when I was reading. Sadly, some pro-lifers don't know how to respond with compassion to women who are struggling and tempted to abortion. I loved how St Gianna was so passionate about the sanctity of life and yet so compassionate toward the women she treated as well.

I am also amazed again at how she sees her patients as more than just bodies to be treated. To her they were always precious souls beloved by God who she tried to help find their way to him.

If only we had more Catholic doctors like St Gianna!

She would have long discussions with mothers not only about the best way to raise their children, but also about the absolute value of life. She suffered deeply whenever she met a woman who wanted to have an abortion. "It is a sin against God," she would plead. "Life is sacred."

[. . .]

While she was still attending medical school, Gianna wrote she would make every effort "not to judge" those she encountered. Gianna understood that the benefits she had received in her life -- growing up in an atmosphere of deep faith-- was not everyone's experience. Now, her work as a doctor put her in a position to practice her earlier resolution.

No one who met Gianna experienced any trace of intolerance or condemnation, because she strove to make her actions consistent with her beliefs. [. . .] She did not concern herself only with a patient's physical well being, but she was always as interested in their personal situations.

In Gianna's day, as is so frequently the case today, many women turned to abortion to deal with an unwanted pregnancy. Gianna profoundly believed in the sacred value of every human life. No matter what the scenario, when a choice had to be made she did not hesitate to choose life, so deep was her conviction. Yet, despite her firm beliefs, she never presumed to set herself up as a judge of those women who did not have the same principles or determination.

When her patients considered the possibility of abortion, Gianna suffered tremendously. While consistently defending the right to life of every human being from the first moment of its conception and trying to help women to understand the sanctity of life, she never turned her back on them as they struggled.

Gianna was maternal toward those who were struggling personally with the issue. Once, a young woman asked Gianna to come to her home because of some "mysterious" hemorrhaging, which was actually the result of an attempted abortion. Gianna treated her compassionately, but firmly, urging her to seriously consider what she had done.

On another occasion, Gianna treated a young woman who had had an abortion. With particular kindness, Gianna offered the young woman some words on the sacredness of human life, which the patient listened to attentively. Gianna gently encouraged the woman to face the seriousness of her act and to realize that what she had done was not only an offense against her child, but also against God. Gianna invited her patient to be reconciled with the Lord, and she encouraged her to embrace God's infinite mercy.

[. . .]

Or, again, there was one woman who, long after her other children had already grown, realized she was pregnant. She felt a kind of shame and discomfort in the presence of anyone she knew. Gianna's love of nature in all its expressions helped to encourage this woman-- and all her patients-- to welcome the joy of motherhood, whatever its circumstances.

from Blessed Gianna Beretta Molla: A Woman's Life by Giuliana Pelucchi

This especially speaks to me in light of Danielle Bean's column yesterday at National Catholic Register: about a mother so sick with hyperemesis gravidarum and hypertension that she chose to abort her baby. What saddened me almost as much as the article itself and the situation of the poor woman was a comment by someone who condemned the woman's selfishness:

This makes me physically ill. She’s so selfish that she didn’t investigate other options, seek a second opinion, do SOMETHING to prevent unwanted pregnancies? I pray she will know God’s mercy.

It isn’t selfishness, it’s desperation and despair. Read up about hyperemesis and understand the extremes of physical anguish this woman was in. Throwing up as many as forty times a day! This is not just feeling a little ill, it’s a life-threatening condition. Add in little to no medical support, doctors pressuring her to abort, and a woman who hasn’t been blessed with the gift of faith and the gift of an understanding of the preciousness of life, how could she have chosen otherwise?

Like Saint Gianna, we should have compassion for women in these situations, not condemn them. We have to remember that not everyone is lucky enough to grow up in an environment where they are taught that life is sacred. And we should thank God that his grace has allowed us to see so clearly when so many people are walking in darkness. There but for his grace go I!

I pray for Cheryl Harrison and all mothers who have struggled with this terrifying illness and given in to the pressure to abort that they will know God’s abundant mercy and love. I pray that women suffering from hyperemesis will find help before they are driven by desperation to turn their hands against helpless innocents.

[4] comments (123 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Bella on Vocations

On Sunday Father's homily was about vocations. He asked the kids if they were going to be priests or religious when they grew up or married. I whispered to Bella, "Are you going to be a religious sister."

"No," she replied with great certainty, "I'm going to be married." After all, she's already got all her children named.

But later at dinner she spontaneously offered this, "My little boy is going to grow up and be a priest."

[0] comments (142 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

St Francis de Sales: Putting Everything into Perspective

My God, Madame, we will soon be in eternity, and then we shall see how all the affairs of the world are such little things and how little it matters whether they turn out or not. At this time, nevertheless, we apply ourselves to them as if they were great things. When we were little children, with what eagerness did we put together little bits of tile, wood, and mud, to make houses and small buildings. And if someone destroyed them, we were very grieved and tearful at it; but now we know well that it all mattered very little. One day it will be the same with us in Heaven, when we will see that our concerns in this world were truly only child's play.

I do not want to take away the care that we must have regarding these little trifles, because God has entrusted them to us in this world for exercise; but I would indeed like to take away the passion and anxiety of this care. Let us do our child's play, because we are children; but let us not trouble ourselves to death in playing it. And if someone destroys our little houses and little designs, let us not torment ourselves greatly at this; because also, when this night comes in which it will be necessary for us to take shelter-- I mean to say death-- all these little houses will e of no use to us; we will have to take our shelter in the house of our Father. Faithfully attend to your obligations, but know that you have no greater obligation than that of your salvation and of the saving progress of your soul on the way to true devotion.

Have patience with everyone, but chiefly with yourself; I mean to say do not trouble yourself about your imperfections and always have the courage to lift yourself out of them. I am well content that you begin again every day; there is no better way to perfect the spiritual life than always to begin again and never to think you have done enough.

from: Thy Will Be Done: Letters to Persons in the World

[2] comments (95 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Pregnancy Rituals

Attende, Domine, et miserere, quia peccavimus tibi.

I finish my bowl of curry and then go to put Ben in bed. Sleepy little boy, he rests his head on my shoulder as I say a few brief prayers over him. Then I put him down in his crib and he clutches his blanket to his chest, curls over on top of it and lies still as I walk out of the room, shutting the door quietly as I whisper a last, "Goodnight, Ben. I love you. God bless you."

Then the waves of nausea and exhaustion threaten to overwhelm me. The benefit of this being my fifth time through these first few weeks is that I recognize the signs and know how to ward off the worst of the nausea before I find myself throwing up. Pregnancy is now a familiar landscape and I know how to navigate it. I go straight to my bed and lie down. I pull out my iPod and say Vespers quickly, closing my eyes frequently to keep the nausea away. When that is done, I close my eyes and drift for a few minutes.





Draw near to us, O God. Graciously hear us, guilty of sinning before you.

For some reason the words of the Lenten hymn sing their way through my wandering thoughts. I think about how hard it is to find time to pray during the pregnancy season. I wonder how many nights even the Vespers I've just prayed will be too much. I appreciate the grace of being able to manage it tonight.





How can I work to make this time a season of prayer? How can I make myself more mindful of God even as I find less energy to manage my daily tasks? Perhaps the very stripping away of my capacity will help me to find a truer focus. If only I can avoid the self-pity and allow this season's grace a room to flourish.





Then I pull myself away from my drifting thoughts and begin to direct the girls through their bedtime ritual from the comfort of the bed: "Bella, Sophie, time to put your pajamas on and get ready for bed!" I call and then close my eyes again. Drift. Drift. I can't. Even though Dom will do the dishes and clean the kitchen, I need to do my part to get things moving and direct traffic.

It takes a few more reminders from me and promptings from Daddy, still eating his dinner; but eventually I hear little feet scampering down the hall. Sophie appears and is distressed to find me in bed, "No! Mama. Don't go to sleep! Don't lie down. No blankets!" Two year-olds can be quite imperious. I soothe her ruffled feathers and help her climb up to the bed next to me. I pull off her shorts and shirt and toss them into the hall so she can take them to the hamper in a few minutes. We chat a bit and then I send her off to put the dirty clothes away and find her pajamas.

She ignores both requests and appears form her room a minute later carrying a large wicker basket full of scraps of paper.





Then Bella arrives. I ask her to help Sophie find her pajamas. Like that will work! They disappear into their room. Sophie comes back out empty handed and comes back to my room. I notice her diaper sagging and ask if she needs to be changed. She assents. I call out to ask Dom to change her diaper. I know I can't handle the smell right now.





Bella comes in with her pajamas and gets dressed a the foot of my bed. Dom comes in and changes Sophie and then herds her away to find her pjs. I have to micromanage Bella's dressing. She's dreamy and gets easily distracted. She'll sit there naked for five minutes and then wander off without finishing the task. She'll pick up a book and read with no shirt on. Wander through the living room with no underwear. Are all four year-olds like this or just mine?





Then the girls brush their teeth, again with Daddy's supervision. Bella comes and stands by the door, "I guess we're just about ready." A phrase she picked up from me.

I rise and move to the rocker in their bedroom, pausing to point out Bella's shorts, sandal and pillow on the floor of my room for her to put away. Like I said, easily distracted.





We say prayers, then I read the girls one story each. Tonight it's The Three Billy Goats Gruff for Sophie. Bella says, I don't like that book. I guess I read it too enthusiastically when she was younger and the troll scared her. But Sophie likes it. Sophie opts to sit in the folding chair next to me because she doesn't want to part with her basket and I refuse to have it on my lap.

Bella requests The Tale of Three Trees and of course my voice cracks and I have to pause as tears overwhelm me a few times. Then at the end we have a little catechetical lesson as Bella wants the main points repeated to her.





Then I tuck each girl into her bed and joke, "Do you want me to sing a lobster song?"

"No! No!" they shriek. "The butterfly song!"

"Are you sure? You never want to hear my lobster song." I pretend to pout. I even sing the beginning of a silly lobster song: "Swim away, little lobster, swim away..."

But they protest and insist on butterflies and I flip off the light and settle into the chair to sing a few verses of the Butterfly song. It's a tune Dom made up a few years back when Bella wore plastic butterfly barrettes in her hair every day. "Fly away, little butterfly, fly away," he'd sing as he took out her barrettes and brushed her hair. A sweet father daughter ritual. Now I've adapted the song and added my own verses. At times these have included a recapitulation of the life cycle of a butterfly, a recounting of the girl's busy day, a poignant longing for spring in the dead of winter. Tonight, though, it's just a simple lullaby with a few verses about how much Jesus loves them.

Then two verses of Amazing Grace. Then I say a final goodnight and God bless and sneak out. Time for me to go to bed myself. It's been a long day.





Photos: a lily that recently surprised me by appearing in the front bed by the yellow roses.

[0] comments (89 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Disclaimer and Updates

An all purpose blog post. Because I'm too tired to make this into distinct thoughts.




Portland Head Lighthouse, Portland, Maine


I'm sure it will come as no surprise to any of my dear friends here that I am predicting that blogging will be sporadic in the coming months. Growing a baby is hard work! I'm already feeling exhausted. And, yes, a wee bit sick to the stomach.




Bella and Grandma B at Portland Head Light.


Strangely, I've still been waking at the crack of dawn and getting in some sleepy prayer time before the kids get up. I'm not counting on that oddity to continue. (God, I sort of hope you start to let me off that hook so I can get more sleep.)




Sophie at Portland Head Light.


I'm still grieving Ben's non-nursing. It's sad and strange but I feel like I don't know how to show him love and affection without nursing. He's not a cuddler. He's a quick affirming hug and then I'm off to conquer the world sort of guy. When he's tired and cranky and in pain, he does NOT want to snuggle with me. I don't know how to deal with that.




View from Portland Head Light: another lighthouse and a ship sailing by.


Anyway, while I am distracted and ignoring the still-unpacked bags, here are a few snaps of our visit in Maine.



Ben at Portland Head Light, sporting his new hat and eating "cheeeessse!"


Don't you find that unpacking is 100 times worse than packing? Or is that just me? Yes, there are still two partially-full bags on the couch in the living room. They're starting to fade into the scenery.




The girls, ready for a dip in Grandma's pool


Of course now that I've posted this disclaimer I will probably have a sudden flurry of blog posts. That always seems to happen to me.




Hanging out with Ben on the deck while Dom swims with the girls.


But for now, I'm heading to bed. Baby is demanding sleep. (Which right now seems much better than what he'll be demanding in nine months time.)

[1] comments (91 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Ben in the Sprinkler

He may not have relished getting his feet wet in the icy waters of the Atlantic on Friday morning; but after his nap on Friday afternoon Ben woke and crawled off into the sprinkler that I'd turned on for Bella. He totally got into it.

Ben plays in the sprinkler. from Domenico Bettinelli on Vimeo.

I've seldom seen him quite so intent as he is at the beginning of this clip as he focuses on sticking his hand into the spray. Then he lights up as Bella dashes into the picture, shrieking and laughing as she fills a container with water. (I believe she was making mud pies in the sand box.) Sweet little drowned-rat boy. Oh I do love him so!

[0] comments (145 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Nursing Strike: Day 6

After a long weekend in Maine visiting my mother-in-law we are home. Tired but very glad we went. I can't believe it's been almost two years since we were last there. But the last time was definitely before we moved to the South Shore. The drive up seemed interminable, a third again as long as when we lived on the other side of Boston.





The kids were troopers and handled the drive pretty well except for poor Sophie who on the way home kept waking up with sun flashing in her eyes.





Ben is still not nursing, though he is occasionally drinking some breast milk from a sippy cup. Maybe taste isn't such an issue after all?





When he woke up from his nap today he screamed for an hour solid. Writhing in my arms and nothing would soothe or satisfy him. Not food or drink or rocking or singing. He was tugging at both his ears, clawing at my face, especially at my mouth.





I gave him some ibuprofen and when that kicked in, he finally settled down to eat a snack. Ninety percent sure it was his teeth; but the ear pulling gave me just enough doubt that I wanted to double check. So we went to the pediatrician. $15 is so worth the peace of mind of knowing I'm not letting an ear infection slip by undetected.





Sure enough, she detected two swollen gum areas. Bottom right molar and bottom left molar. Poor angry, agonized boy. The doctor said it was very likely that once the teeth erupt he'll go back to nursing.





After dinner, after another dose of ibuprofen and some orajel, he did go so far as to start to latch on. Then pulled away like he was having second thoughts. So maybe it is teething pain after all. He didn't act like he was in pain last week except for the not nursing thing. I thought it couldn't possibly be teething again; but maybe it was. So hard to tell with little ones who can't talk and tell you what is wrong. Frustrating for him too, his inability to communicate.

[2] comments (129 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Beach Day

Yesterday morning my sister and I took the kids to the beach.




My stroke of genius for the day: thinking to put the little red wagon in the car instead of the double stroller. Big fat wheels get much better traction on sand. The little ones loved it.




Ben set foot in the Atlantic for the first time. He wasn't so sure he liked it.




Splashing in the bucket was more his speed. And drinking the sea water.




"Hey! Where did all the water go? Mama, could you refill my bucket?"




Sophie really had a ball. She waded right out into the surf. Thrilling




"I in the puddle, Mama."

"You're in the ocean, Sophie."

"Oh. I in the ocean."




"I splash the rock!"




So very pleased with herself.




I didn't bring my suit. Just stood and held Ben and watched my girls running about with my sister.




They found seaweed and crab claws and seashells and rocks. Oh the excitement!




Sophie was brave enough to touch the seaweed. Bella was not.




But she did find two rocks that looked like eggs.




Sophie splashed in a big puddle made by some industriously digging big kids.




PB&J always tastes better at the beach. If you don't mind a bit of grit. Ben and Sophie don't mind it at all. It kind of creeps me out; but I'm not the one eating it.




Ben had more fun eating the shovel than digging with it. A second stroke of genius: I actually remembered to collect some beach toys from the sandbox before we left. (I did forget my camera; but my sister brought hers, which is actually a better camera, so it was all good.)




Though she ran in the shallows and splashed in the puddles, Bella didn't really get wet. She certainly didn't play in the surf. She's the kind of kid who's happiest digging in the sand and filling her pail with shells and rocks.




Halfway through the day she decided to put on her cover up. She was done with the water.




But make no mistake, she was overjoyed with her day at the beach. I was very happy I'd kept my promise to her for no girl could have been more pleased and thankful.




Truly a magical sort of day. Why, oh why don't we do this more often?

[7] comments (167 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

A Baby Sister for Bella?

When we told Bella that we were expecting a new baby, she was incredulous. "You're just pretending, right?" she giggled.

But we insisted that we weren't pretending. "There really is a new baby in Mama's belly," Dom told her. She giggled some more.

Then she wanted to know what the baby's name is. We told her we didn't know yet. Obviously that was not satisfactory. She declared that the baby's name was Rose.

"But what if the baby is a little boy? Maybe you'll have a little brother."

"It's not. It's a little girl and her name is Rose."

This is the first time we've had a child old enough to be interested in the naming of our baby. It's certainly going to be interesting to see how this plays out in the coming months.

By the way, I'm not necessarily opposed to Rose-- as a middle name, at least. St Rose of Lima was my confirmation saint. It's not the name we were thinking of; but if Bella does feel strongly and doesn't waver and we do have a girl.... Well, why not let her have some say in the matter?

[9] comments (273 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Nursing Strike: Getting to the Root of It

I've made the disclaimer several times in the past week that, no, I'm not pregnant even though I'm posting on this or that pregnancy related topic. Well, the joke's on me.

Turns out I was too quick to make that denial.

I started suspecting last night. First there was Ben's sudden refusal to nurse, which unlike the last time seemed not teething or biting related. Rather, he seemed mad about the taste of the milk. He'd latch on, get a mouthful and then pull off and scream, with the milk running down his chin.

Then, there was my moodiness. I snapped a couple of times at Dom. Over really, really silly stuff. I found myself on the verge of tears several times. Well, it's probably just PMS. Man, I'd almost forgotten how crazy that can be! Oh and maybe it's just the hormonal shift that's making Ben so upset.

Well, there were hormones at the root of it all right. Just not the ones I was thinking of.

I hardly touched my dinner. Fish suddenly didn't sound good at all. But it must have been that cookie I ate before dinner. Right?

But I've never got queasy with PMS and by bedtime I was feeling a little green.

I looked at my charts and a different explanation started to form in my head. Waking up in the middle of the night feeling overheated: check. Elevated temperatures: check. Excessive tiredness in the evenings of late: check.

One of the suggestions I discovered in reading about nursing strikes suggested that the shifting hormones of pregnancy can make the milk flavor change and babies might decide they don't like the new taste.

So that's my working theory: the problem is a flavor change in my milk caused by shifting hormones. I tried to do tonight what I did last time and rocked Ben to sleep and then tried to get him to latch on while asleep and, well, he got a mouthful of milk and then grimaced and pulled away and started crying in his sleep and refused to latch on again.

So I'm wondering if this means he's really and truly done or if I can gently convince him over time that the new flavor isn't so bad. He's a strong willed guy and if he decides that cheese and bread and strawberries are good enough for him and that nasty tasting milk isn't worth it, I'm not sure I'll be able to convince him otherwise. But I'd like to hear about any success stories with similar situations that anyone out there might know about.

I do remember Sophie having issues with nursing at around the time I found out I was pregnant with Ben. But it never went as far as a nursing strike. She was much younger, about seven months old, and eating almost no solids and her hunger led her to just deal with the taste issue. Ben, however, might just be a little milk snob (thanks, Kate, for that perfect description!) and not be interested in forging on with our nursing relationship.

*Yes, I did just bury the news that I'm pregnant in the middle of a blog entry about Ben's nursing problems. I also announced my engagement to my sister by asking if she'd like to help me host a party. I'm subtle like that. I don't know why; but being direct sometimes does not suit me at all.

[27] comments (596 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Nursing Strike. Again.

Once again, Ben is refusing to nurse. He's miserable and I can't figure out why. Teething remedies don't seem to be helping. I'm miserable too and feel helpless and frustrated. Many tears are being shed by both of us.

If you could offer up a little prayer for me today, I'd appreciate it.

Our Lady of La Leche, Pray for us.

[3] comments (188 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

St Gianna Molla on Her Vocation as a Physician

In one way or another, everyone in the world works in the service of humanity. The physician works directly with the human person. The object of our science and work is the human person who is before us, who tells us about him or herself, who asks for help, and who expects from us the fullness of his or her existence.

Physicians have opportunities that a priest does not have, for our mission does not end when medicine is no longer of help. There still remains the soul that must be brought to God. Jesus says, "Whoever visits the sick is helping me." This is a priestly mission! Just as the priest can touch Jesus, so we doctors touch Jesus in the bodies of our patients: in the poor, the young, the old, children.... May Jesus reveal himself through us; may he find many physicians who willingly offer themselves to him.

from Blessed Gianna Beretta Molla: A Woman's Life by Giuliana Pelucchi

[3] comments (90 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Meeting Arwen at Castle Island

This morning we had a lovely outing to Boston's Castle Island Park where we met the lovely Mosher family, Arwen and Bryan and their adorable children, Camilla and Blaise.

Of course, in the rush to get out on time I forgot my camera. So I have no pictures to illustrate this post. Bad blogger me.

So we left a little late, then I hit a massive detour, a bunch of traffic, and I got lost and couldn't actually find the park. I stopped to call Dom to help me out and noticed a message on my phone from Arwen, who was lost too. (I really didn't think my music was on that loud so I don't know why I didn't hear the phone.) Eventually we got ourselves sorted out and found each other. I blame the website, which didn't have a precise address, and the GPS, which for some reason didn't have the park in its database. Since we'd planned to meet at nine, being almost an hour late didn't seem so bad. We just pretended we'd intended to meet at ten and all was well.

It was a perfect New England summer day, clear and with a cool breeze that actually gave us a bit of chill as we were sitting in the shade. We had a wonderful morning chatting and watching the children play. Arwen is just as friendly and funny as I thought she'd be. It was such a treat getting to know her better.

Bella was thrilled that the park is right next to Logan airport and just under the flight path so she got to watch many planes coming in for a landing. Our conversation was punctuated by, "Mama! Mama! Look! Look! A plane!" I had to acknowledge each one. Oh but that is part of the joy of having a four year-old.

Ben and Sophie crashed on the way home and were perhaps a little overstimulated; but that's part of summer, now isn't it. I do now owe the kids a beach day since the girls were a little disappointed that we spent all our time at the playground and never made it down to the water.

And now. I think I'm going to call it a night and get to bed early for once. I hope.

[4] comments (106 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Pregnancy Diary: A Christian Mother's Reflections

I am a Catholic, and my book will be written from a Christian woman's perspective, which views pregnancy as a blessing, not a curse; a gift to be accepted in spite of the hardships it birngs, not a disease to be terminated by abortion. This positive view of pregnancy will accord with the views of all women, Christian or non-Christian, who accept God as the Creator and life as sacred.

By Mary Arnold. Published by Ignatius Press, evidently out of print; but there are some cheap second-hand copies available on Amazon.

I stumbled upon this book while browsing at Amazon and as I'm rather interested in Catholic women's reflections on pregnancy, I decided to investigate.

[I feel I need to add a disclaimer here that I'm not pregnant at this time lest anyone read too much into my posting about a book on pregnancy.]

This is a week by week pregnancy diary by a Catholic mother, aged 42 at time of this her fourth pregnancy. It feels very much like thumbing through a diary. It' divided into trimesters, then subdivided into weeks with most entries given specific dates (like Monday, February 28). There isn't something for every day. Some weeks have only one entry. Some have two or three or four or five. (Funny coincidence, she gives birth on a Friday, June 10 of that year. I finished reading it on Friday June 11.)

It also felt like reading a blog, in a way. It was intimate, personal, often humorous. I liked the week by week format that often started with updates on the baby, included commentary on how she is feeling, what is going on with her family, and then moves to some reflection on a larger issue such as IVF or home births.

There is plenty of nitty-gritty about her blood tests, various aches and pains, changing bra sizes, maternity clothes shopping and, at the end, cervical dilation and details of labor. But there is also plenty of looking at the bigger picture: reflections on the Psalms, the ethics of genetic testing, morning sickness, parenting, c-sections, faith.

I love the way in week 36 she jumped from talking about breech babies and whether her OB will do an external version to describing her children playing with a cardboard box that had contained a piece of furniture delivered to a neighbor.

Arnold is from New Zealand and her father is an OB and she has strong opinions about obstetric practice in the US seen from the point of view of an outsider. She decries unnecessary c-sections; but also strongly opposes home births. She has a strong Catholic faith and affirms Church teachings on the sanctity of life. However, I think you could disagree with her on many of those points and still enjoy this book.

from Week 29:

I keep complaining about aches and pains, so maybe it's worth reflecting on the subject of pain and suffering during pregnancy and labor. Are they a waste of time? The Church teaches that suffering has redemptive value, that in some mysterious way Christ, through his suffering and death, redeemed the world. The Church tells us to unite our sufferings to those of Christ on the Cross. I often tell my kids, "Don't waste your sufferings. Offer them up to save souls." Pregnant women do suffer, and it's important for us to make our suffering "useful" by giving it to God.

I heard of a priest who told a man in the hospital, "I'll pray for your healing."

"Oh, don't do that, Father", the man said. "My pain is all I have to offer him." How wonderful if we could all view our pain in this positive light.

Sister Faustina, the Polish nun recently beatified by Pope John Paul II, wrote in her book Divine Mercy in my Soul: "Oh if only the suffering soul knew how much God loves it, it would die of joy and of an excess of happiness! One day we shall know the value of suffering, but then we will no longer be able to suffer. The present moment is ours." I often read this when I am tempted to think negatively about my current problems.

There just aren't that many books out there about pregnancy from a Catholic perspective, which is a shame. I'd recommend this to any of my Catholic or Christian friends whether facing a first pregnancy or a tenth.

I've noticed that I feel especially close to those of my friends who have been pregnant at the same time as I have. There is a deep bond that comes about when you share that experience. I always remember those babies with especial fondness, feeling a certain degree of kinship. I already feel a certain kinship with Mary Arnold and I'm not even pregnant.

[0] comments (98 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Suffer the Little Children

She'd been feeling terrible all day. Home from work finally. Stressed. Exhausted. Sick.





Just leave me alone. Pull into my shell. Don't touch me.





But as she walks in the door Ben, who has just woken from his nap, raises his head from where he's been nursing. Auntie Tree!





He can't say the name yet; but it is there in his eyes.





Milk forgotten, he scrambles to sit, raises his arms: Hold me!





She does. Who can refuse a little baby boy with sticky-up hair and deep brown eyes and a toothy smile? She carries him around on her hip as she gets something to eat.





Then, tired, she tries to hand him back to his mama. But he screams. And screams. And screams. He doesn't do this. Certainly not to his mama. He's a mama's boy through and through.





Panic, pain, and despair thrill in these screams: Why have you abandoned me? What can she do but scoop him up again? Hold him tight and walk and walk and walk around the house.





Finally he gives up and allows her to put him down. He plays with his sisters. She sinks to the couch, escapes into the computer.





And as she lay there on the couch they kept intruding. Breaching that invisible wall. Can't they see? Why won't they go away? It takes heroic effort not to swat them away like gnats.





Sophie comes and touches her arm. Pretends to put medicine into it. Pats it gently. Here, let me give you something to heal those wounds.





Sophie brings a little scrap of cloth to wipe her face. Tender two-year old playing her customary game of nursing. Except she usually plays it with her sister or maybe her dollies. She doesn't usually tend others.





Sophie brings a holy card. Another holy card. Another holy card. Another holy card. Another holy card.





She brings the crucifix. A treasure trove, shared. This isn't something she does. She doesn't bring holy cards to people. And yet here she is, one after another.





Still, Go away! Leave me alone! Why won't you leave me alone? Grumble, grump, gripe.





It isn't until later, much later after they are in bed, that she finally sees.





Grace upon grace upon grace.





She wanted nothing more than to be left alone and yet she needed to be held. And so a baby reached out and begged for that holding. And a little girl brought her medicine to heal a wounded soul. And Jesus and Jesus and more Jesus.





He knocks and knocks and knocks. And eventually the soul hears the call. Suddenly her eyes are opened and she sees.






Photos: A child's view?
by my sister, Theresa Scott

Much thanks to her for allowing me to tell her story.

[5] comments (171 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

St Francis de Sales on Prayer During Pregnancy

My dearest daughter since your pregnancy prevents you from making your usual long mental prayer, make your prayer short and fervent. Make up for the loss by frequently lifting your heart up to God; often read from some good spiritual book, but only a little at a time; when you go for a walk, often turn your thoughts to God; pray often and briefly; offer your listlessness and weariness to our crucified Lord. After your delivery, quietly resume your usual devotions, and discipline yourself to use the subject matter presented in some spiritual book, so that when it is time to go to prayer you are not at a loss, like the person who, when it is time for dinner, has nothing ready. If sometimes you don’t have a book to turn to, meditate on a mystery rich in meaning, like the death and passion [of our Lord], or whatever first comes to your mind.

from a letter of spiritual direction, found in the book Francis De Sales, Jane De Chantal: Letters of Spiritual Direction


thanks to Jennifer at Conversion Diary for pointing me toward this book.

[0] comments (131 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Sex au Naturel: What It Is and Why It's Good for Your Marriage

For all the bluster about celibates in Rome having no right to dictate what couples do in the bedroom and the pleas for an alleged "primacy of conscience," most people have no clear idea why the Catholic Church is opposed to contraception. Do you? Archbishop Fulton Sheen famously said that millions hate what they wrongly believe to be the Catholic Church. Millions also wrongly hate what they believe to be her teaching on contraception. . . .

If you agree with the teaching of Humanae Vitae, that "each and every marital act ought to be open to new life" (no. 11), then, in the grand tradition of preaching to the choir, this book will hopefully provide ammunition for those "friendly discussions" with family members or friends who thing the teaching is nonsense (or worse). If you're not sure where you stand, what follows will hopefully help you see this distinctive Christian teaching with a new set of eyes.

Patrick Coffin's Sex au Naturel is a friendly and accessible introduction to the Church's teachings on sexuality, especially contraception, and how living those teachings improves marriage. It is funny, down-to-earth, easy to read, comprehensive.

I highly recommend it for anyone who has questions or doubts about the Church's teaching, or for anyone who has a friend or family member with questions or doubts. I thought I was well-versed in this material; but even I was able to gain from Patrick's perspective and learned a few new facts as well as some new ways of presenting the information.

The book begins by reviewing "the historical context that paved the way for the widespread rejection of Humanae Vitae" then Coffin explains his own history of hatred and skepticism toward the Church's difficult teaching of Humanae Vitae and how he came to eventually embrace them. He delves into the question of authority, explores the Biblical antecedents for the Church's teaching, and the relationship of natural law and contraception and looks at contraception in the light of the Blessed Trinity. He discusses the so-called population explosion and the myth of overpopulation and then looks at sterilization, in vitro fertilization, and address the common perception that NFP is inconsistent with a rejection of artificial contraception.

Above all Coffin presents all of these teachings with love and mercy and not with an attitude of bashing the infidels. The book is an invitation to a cordial discussion, one that says: Hey, even if you disagree you might at least hear me out and understand why I hold the position I do.


Disclaimer: My husband went to school with Patrick at Franciscan University of Steubenville and he does get a credit in the Acknowledgments. He read a chapter in the early stages of the writing. Actually, I also read it over his shoulder, as we were dating at the time.

[2] comments (211 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

American Music Rabbit Trail

Yesterday we watched this video of the American Civil War in 4 minutes (posted here by bearing)



This morning at breakfast I still had the music running in my head and I wondered aloud what the name of the tune is. We discussed Ken Burns and the way he used music in his documentary. The way that song has become associated with the Civil War and how we can almost hear the sad letter from a soldier being read slowly and solemnly as the song plays in the background. We also discussed the "Ken Burns effect" and how he's changed the way documentaries are made.

According to Wikipedia, the song in question is called Ashokan Farewell and was composed by Jay Ungar in 1982. It has served as a goodnight or farewell waltz at the annual Ashokan Fiddle & Dance Camps that Ungar and his wife, Molly Mason, run at the lakefront Ashokan Field Campus of the State University of New York at New Paltz. Here's Ungar's FAQ page about the song. He says, "Ashokan Farewell was written in the style of a Scottish lament. I sometimes introduce it as, 'a Scottish lament written by a Jewish guy from the Bronx.' I lived in the Bronx until the age of sixteen."

Here's a video of Jay and Molly playing Ashokan Farewell. It has a little introduction by Jay, explaining the origin of the song:



The song is played 25 times throughout Burns' eleven-hour Civil War series and underlies almost an hour of film. Ungar says, "Molly and I, along with members of Fiddle Fever and pianist Jacqueline Schwab played much of the 19th century music heard throughout the [Civil War] soundtrack. Ashokan Farewell is the only contemporary tune that was used."


This conversation led to Dom opening up his computer and playing the song, naturally. Then he started playing more clips from the Civil War soundtrack including The Battle Hymn of the Republic.


(Not my favorite version of the song; but I can't find the one I really like.)

Oh but those are some of the my favorite song lyrics of all time. Such poetry: "He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword..."

"Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,"

" In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,"

If those don't stir your heart....

Then, naturally, I had to look that up to find out its history.

According to Wikipedia, "The tune was written around 1855 by William Steffe. The first known lyrics were called "Canaan's Happy Shore" or "Brothers, Will You Meet Me?" and the song was sung as a campfire spiritual.

Around 1860 a man in the Massachusetts infantry named Thomas Bishop wrote some lyrics about a fellow soldier whose name was John Brown. Subtle fun because he shared a name with the famous abolitionist. Those lyrics became one of the unit's marching songs. This song was overheard by Mrs Julia Ward Howe during a review of the troops in Washington, DC who then wrote new words for the song. She writes,

"I went to bed that night as usual, and slept, according to my wont, quite soundly. I awoke in the gray of the morning twilight; and as I lay waiting for the dawn, the long lines of the desired poem began to twine themselves in my mind. Having thought out all the stanzas, I said to myself, 'I must get up and write these verses down, lest I fall asleep again and forget them.' So, with a sudden effort, I sprang out of bed, and found in the dimness an old stump of a pen which I remembered to have used the day before. I scrawled the verses almost without looking at the paper."

Then, it was time to get ready for Mass. That's enough exploration for one day.

[2] comments (126 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Faded Beauty

for Kathryn



Bella picked this purple clover the other day and I was surprised to see how long it has lasted. The poor roses need to be changed out, though. They were already dead when I put the clover on the shelf but I got distracted before I could replace them. There are plenty on the bushes. But I keep forgetting and it's been rainy or dark every time I do remember. Just like the poor pepper plants I keep forgetting to plant in the garden.

[1] comments (98 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

A Brightly Burning Light

As most of my extended family do not read this blog, I cross-posted the pictures from yesterday on Facebook. In the comments Jamie said:

Just today I was tidying up my bedroom and I threw out the boxes for the baptismal candles. I saw a rolled up sheet inside describing how to celebrate a baptismal anniversary and thought, "Huh, that's a nice idea." Funny to see this picture tonight!

Now I'll confess that the sheet fell out yesterday when Bella opened the candle box and I was so busy scolding her for grabbing it that I didn't even look to see what it said.

Too bad because the ceremony in the brochure is much more complete than my ad hoc reading from the Easter Liturgy. It includes two selected excerpts from commonly used at baptism (Romans 6: 3-5 and Mark 12: 28-34) and suggests a list of others that may be used as well.

It also has a suggested explanation for the leader (mom or dad) to use to introduce the vows of baptism.:

Some time ago [I'd amend this to include the exact number of years.] we presented N . . . . for baptism. By water and the Holy Spirit she received the gift of new life from God, who is love. On our part we have made it our constant care to bring N . . . . up in the practice of the faith. We have tried to see that the divine life which God gave her be kept fromt he poison of sin and might grow always stronger in N . . . . 's heart. We share a common faith, the faith of the Church, and it was in this faith N . . . . was baptized. At that time we rejected sin and professed our faith in Christ Jesus. Now that you, N . . . . are older and your faith makes you ready to accept this responsibility, we ask you to renew the vows of your own baptism.

I improvised something along these lines; but this has some nice flourishes that didn't occur to me. And is, you know, more liturgical.

The insert assumes that parents will continue to make the vows on the child's behalf for several years: "You must speak the words during the earliest years. Even then the child will consciously or unconsciously sense something special abut the day and the ceremony. Gradually, you would lead your youngster to respond "I do" to the questions posed."

While it is true that the Church would say that Bella and Sophie are not yet at the age of reason and thus not truly capable of making these vows for themselves, still I think it underestimates their ability to participate. Sophie at two is capable of saying "I do" and thus participates on her own behalf, even if we are also speaking the words for her. Ok, I know that many two year-old don't have the vocabulary that she does. So maybe for most families the child would begin to respond for himself at age three?

Next year we'll probably try to follow the ceremony outlined here a little more closely. I also like the idea of inviting the godparents to participate in the family meal and renewal of vows. Of course since my sister is Sophie's godmother she was present for Sophie's baptism day; but my nephew Peter, her godfather, was not present. I'm thinking it would be easy enough to invite my brother- and sister-in-law to dinner to celebrate Ben's and Bella's baptisms. A nice excuse to get together with family we don't see often enough.

[4] comments (120 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Do You Reject Satan and All His Empty Promises?

On this day four years ago we brought Isabella to Immaculate Conception Church in Salem, MA and asked that she be baptized. I believe it was Trinity Sunday, which is why Father Murphy is wearing gold vestments. (A nice feast to be baptized on, I did think!)



This morning I brought Isabella, Sophia, and Benedict to Mass with me. (We arrived a little late, during the responsorial psalm.) They all behaved beautifully

Today was the Fest of the Sacred Heart. The readings focused on Jesus as the Good Shepherd. By coincidence I'd brought a board book for Ben about the Good Shepherd. He shrieked at it all through Mass.



After Mass we asked Father R to give Isabella a special blessing. It was at her request; but she clammed up and refused to say anything to him. Still, he's so wonderful with kids. He knelt down to be at her level and he said a beautiful prayer for her. She was glowing, even if too shy to speak.



We came home and made chocolate chip cookies. Mmmm..... The girls helped lick beaters and bowls and ate some chocolate chips. Of course.



After dinner we lit Isabella's baptismal candle and renewed our baptismal promises. It was so sweet hearing Bella and Sophie add their voices to the chorus of "I do".

I got the idea from Mike Aquilina. I've been reading Love in the Little Things: Tales of Family Life.



The day before yesterday, the chapter I read was about his family's celebration of baptismal days and he mentioned that in addition to lighting their baptismal candles, they renew their promises. I thought it would make a lovely addition to our family's ritual. It did.



We didn't, however, follow his other advice to read Scripture passages relating to baptism. Maybe next year when the girls are a bit older.



We sang an Alleluia and then, at Bella's request, the first verse of Amazing Grace.



Then we ate our chocolate chip cookies made into ice cream sandwiches.



They were messy but very good. Sophie got a bit distressed by the drips.



Then we gave Bella a couple of presents: a coloring book of the life of St Francis and a little Holy Spirit medallion.



Bella put on the necklace at once and then began to color.



It didn't take much preparation or planning to create a meaningful ritual in our domestic church. I hope and pray that this tradition will help create good memories and strengthen my children for the battles they will face, help them learn to cling to their baptismal promises in all of life's tough situations.

[0] comments (92 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Ben Laughs at Jesus

My sister was watching Ben this morning while I took the girls to the grocery store. (How awesome is that! He got his full nap and I got the shopping done.)

She caught him on the camera shrieking and laughing at the statue of the Holy Family. He says, "Jeesh, Jeesh," his version of Jesus. Sweet, happy, baby boy who was 11 months old yesterday. I can't believe he's been with us for almost a year!

[2] comments (118 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Painting with Bella and Sophie

I had so much fun getting down on the floor to paint with my girls. It made more of a mess this way; but it also meant we were all creating a painting together. Water-based paints clean up easy. It's so worth ignoring the mess. (Just very hard.)



I love the creativity of the girls. Bella paints a big blue sun, a"holy, big sun." With eyes. And then tells it to watch out for the shark.

Bella looks at what Sophie's painting and tells her that she's painting "sun drops". Typical big sister seizing creative control and naming rights. Sophie adopts the name, because, well, Bella must be correct.

Of course, there's a bit of a squabble at the end when Bella touches Sophie's wet paint. I love Sophie's delayed reaction and the way she slashes her own face with the red paint.

[2] comments (109 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Today in Pictures

I've noticed that the girls won't go play outside in the mornings. I think it's because the back yard is on the west side of the house and until the sun gets over the roof line the dew lies thick on the grass and they don't like getting their feet wet.




We were all having a cranky morning and I knew sending the girls out wouldn't do any good. So we took a walk.



We didn't go far because Sophie soon got cranky and started crying to go back home. Bella dropped half of the flowers she'd picked. Ben fell asleep in the stroller. Still, the fresh air and exercise did us good.



Bella is especially drawn to a little wooded area at the end of a dead end street a couple of blocks away. We always have to stop and look at the woods. It's a funny little ritual. Some day I'd like to hike back there with her; but for now our stroller won't go and trying to navigate by myself with three wee ones is a bit intimidating.



When we got home I tucked sleeping Ben into his bed and then spread out a big piece of butcher paper on the floor and poured tempera paint into some bowls and laid out a bunch of brushes. We painted.





Bella said it looked like wallpaper. She wants to hang it in her room.



The floor got painted and so did the girls.



Bella did help wipe up the floor and then they changed into their swimsuits and ran around in the sprinkler. All fun and games until Bella dumped a pail of sandy/muddy water onto Sophie's head.



All in all, I think we managed to rescue the morning. I won't claim no one got cranky and no one fussed and no one yelled; but we made some good memories. It could have been much, much worse.



And at the end of the day, a sleeping baby on my arm. With awesome hair.

[0] comments (130 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

The Handwriting Project

Via Sarah at This Heavenly Life comes a fun meme that I just had to jump in on.

Here's how the project works:

Write down the following, snap a picture (or scan the document), post it, and tag others.

1. Name/Blog Name
2. Right handed, left handed or both
3. Favorite letters to write
4. Least favorite letters to write
5. Write: The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
6. Write in caps:
CRAB
HUMOR
KALEIDOSCOPE
PAJAMAS
GAZILLION
7. Favorite song lyrics
8. Tag 7 people
9. Any special note or drawing

The selection of questions is a little random. I suppose I could have mixed it up and done my own thing; but that's kind of part of the charm.





It's ironic that capital M, which begins my name, is one of my most hated letters. I had to write it so often and yet I was never quite satisfied with the way it looked. It took me years to develop the initial flourish that I think is so much more appealing than the usual little flag at the top.

I also hate N for the same reason. And Q and Z annoy me because the cursive capitals just look wrong to me; but it also looks wrong to print them.

The song lyrics I wrote are Lorelei by The Pogues. It was the first thing that came to mind. I tend to agonize over things like that; but I decided to just go with it.

I'm tagging the first names of people I thought might actually participate that popped in my head as I was handwriting this: Kathryn the Bookworm, Betty Beguiles, Jennifer at Conversion Diary, Mrs. Darwin, Mary at evlogia, Jen Ambrose, Charlotte of Waltzing Matilda, and Jennifer at As Cozy As Spring; but I don't really like tagging people because I hate anyone to feel left out so join in and leave a comment to let me know. I really would love to see everyone's handwriting. That's the one thing blogging lacks is that sense of personality that handwriting conveys. (Then again, it's also legible!)





I've been thinking recently about how my girls almost never see me write. About the only time I set pen to paper is for my weekly shopping list. And that only because right now our printer is broken.

Before I was married I was a letter writer. I used to send long letters (sometimes ten pages or more) to friends and family. I used to be known for my ability to keep up with correspondence. Somehow I haven't been able to find the time or energy since Bella was born. Wow, that's been four years!

In fact, when it came time to pen this little exercise I had to hunt for a pen. Oh, there were plenty of ballpoints here and there and those are fine for grocery lists. But for writing I use only one or two kinds of pen. My favorite is shown down at the bottom of the second picture, a Pilot Precise rolling ball pen, V5, extra fine tip. Oh how I love this pen. I used to buy them by the box. Now I only have one left and that was hidden in a basket on my dresser and I almost despaired before I found it.

[6] comments (141 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Corpus Christi

This morning Sophie was still sick and so Dom stayed home with her and Ben while I took Bella to Mass with me. It was lovely to go just with my big girl. So restful (comparatively).

Sadly, the Pange Lingua was not sung. Instead we had Table of Plenty, One Bread, One Body and Sing to the Mountains. But I have five versions of it in iTunes so I had them on continuous shuffle while we were eating breakfast and getting dressed.

This afternoon I took Bella and Ben to a family birthday party. It felt wrong to go without Dom and I'd probably have stayed home except for not wanting to disappoint Bella . We had a good time, except for Ben biting my shoulder. I think he was overtired and wanted to nurse; but ouch! He raised a welt. Bella splashed in the pool and played with her cousins and ate too many chips and too much cake and ice cream. I had a nice chat with my sisters-in-law and my mother-in-law.

Dom's mother sent me home with brownies for him. Sophie was still running a fever when we got home and her stomach is still in rebellion. This has not been fun for her, poor thing.

Anyway; back to the Pange Lingua. Here's a version I found online. Beautiful.



Also, although here in the US we celebrated the feast of Corpus Christi today, mos everywhere else it was on Thursday. My dad sent me the link to these awesome pictures of Corpus Christi processions around the world.

[0] comments (86 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST

If you haven't yet discovered Elizabeth Ester, you really should. Not only does her blog have an awesome tag line: "I use my words"; she's also a great storyteller and a wonderfully hospitable blog host.

On the first Saturday of each month she invites bloggers to share their favorite post (from their own blog) from the previous month. It's a nice way of finding other great blogs because of course people are putting their best foot forward.

May was hard, I had several pieces I considered. I really liked the way everything came together for MWF Introvert Seeking BFF or The Grass Is Always Greener following a conversation I had with Dom, who suggested the first part of the title. Some blog posts almost write themselves and that's wonderfully satisfying. Also, this was a chance to revisit a line of thinking about friendship and being an introvert, topics I'll never reach the end of.

I loved the photos in my Washing Dishes post. And I loved the conversation that followed in the comments to Reasonable Parenting Goals. But I decided to include the follow-up I wrote to that post, which I called The Life of Significant Soil, a title taken from one of my favorite poems by T.S. Eliot. It's a reflection on motherhood and faith that couldn't have happened without the wonderful conversations I've had with my fellow bloggers. I love the way this online community provides such fertile ground for conversation that help me grow and stretch. And I love the way the photos I'd taken just so happened to perfectly illustrate my thoughts.

Go check out the other Saturday Evening Blog Posts at Elizabeth Ester's blog. Add your own, if you feel so inclined or just sit down and have a pleasant read.

[0] comments (95 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

7 Quick Takes

--1--

This is a pile of all the books that have come for me in the mail this week.



"Wow, Mom, that's a lot of books!" says Ben.

"Can I eat this one?"



I think maybe it's time to admit I have a wee bit of a problem.

At least I'm in good company.


--2--



Bella's morning creation: dandelions and clover.


--3--

Afternoon snack.



The "ch" menu: Cheese. Cheerios. The first cherries of the year. (So sweet!)



I love the way Sophie shares her food with Ben.



Like olive plants your children around your table.


--4--



Those pictures of the three children remind me of one of my favorite icons.

A reminder of how family is an image of the divine nature.


--5--



Speaking of Sophie and sharing, she's definitely the sharer in the family. Whenever there is a conflict where Bella and Sophie are both screaming about wanting the same object, and it escalates to the point where I have to step in and tell them that someone will have to give, it's always Sophie that gives.

This morning Bella snatched a doll out of Sophie's hands. (I think Bella had been playing with it earlier; but she'd abandoned it on the couch.) Screaming and tears ensued with Bella getting especially hysterical. Can one of you find a different doll? I asked reasonably. And Sophie immediately handed over the contested dolly and came with me to her bedroom to find a replacement.

Then tonight at dinner Sophie had got two plates out of the drawer for herself and Bella. Bella immediately demanded that she wanted the purple one. I could see immediately that it was the one Sophie had her heart set on. She balked and rapid back and forth discussion ensued. It was starting to get ugly and I was on the verge of taking away the contested plate when Sophie suddenly gave it to Bella: "Here, Bewwa." (In retrospect perhaps I should have insisted that as Sophie was the one to do the work of getting the plates, she should have first pick.)


--6--

Ben is getting more and more physically confident and competent. He crawls everywhere now and stands and sits easily. He's currently perfecting the back flip dismount from my lap onto the living room rug. He thinks it's hilarious. He is such a boy!

He's also getting very clear in communicating. He only makes six sounds but he deploys them very well and uses body language and expressions to convey so much. I think he may even be on the verge of saying mama!


--7--

I've stayed up too late yet again. And I'm out of ideas for number seven. But this is the first time in ages I've actually composed my quick takes before Friday, so I can come back in the morning and update this if I think of something else overnight.

Nope. Nuthin'. Happy weekend, everyone.



Visit Jennifer at Conversion Diary for more quick takes.

[5] comments (208 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Gather Ye Rosebuds

It's become a ritual now. Every few days I announce that I'm going to go cut some roses. And my two little helpers scurry to the front door. Bella fetches the basket and I get the clippers. Sophie's job is picking up petals, which requires no tools.



Today Bella opted to climb the peach tree rather than help with the roses. She's in love with that little tree and so excited by her new-found ability to climb it. She reminds me of a certain little girl who loved to perch in an apple tree, though I was much older then, 11 or 12.



We have vases of flowers scattered all over the house. The sweet smell of roses wafts across the rooms.



But I think the best part is simply spending a few minutes with my girls enjoying beauty.



Both the beauty of the roses and the beauty of the girls. The fairest flowers in my garden.



Today I pulled petals off the spent flowers and showered them on Sophie's head. She was delighted. Two year-old shrieks of joy are so lovely.



Why didn't we do this more last summer?



Of course Ben is a sweet rose too. Just look at those rosy cheeks!

He was napping today while we were gathering roses; but if he's awake he loves to crawl about at my feet.

[0] comments (104 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

God Is My Alarm Clock

First, let me make one thing clear: I am NOT a morning person. I am a night owl through and through. It's all I can do to get myself into bed by midnight most nights.

And yet this morning I was up again at 5:30. I took my medicine, brushed my teeth and then settled onto the couch to say Morning Prayer. Then I read today's Mass readings and made a spiritual communion. When that was done, I rolled to my side and fell asleep until Ben woke me up with his crying. This has been going on for more than a month now. And it is very strange to me.

When I first started waking up at 5 or 5:30 and found myself wide awake and unable to get back to sleep I was seriously annoyed. I'd toss in bed and finally drift back to sleep only to be awakened within half an hour by one of the children. The sun was barely turning the sky a paler shade of night, it was way too early to be up and about. Yet one day I gave up on trying to get back to sleep. I got up and went to the living room and prayed. Ben go up early that day and then it was one thing after another and yet somehow it went so much more smoothly than it had been.

Then it happened again and again. And every time I gave in and saw the early wake up as an opportunity to pray instead of a cursed nuisance, those days went just a little better. I might still be overtired and cranky and I might still lose my patience and yell; but I could see that without that quiet space at the beginning of the day it might have gone a lot worse.

It is a gift. It is not something I can make happen on my own. If I had decided I was going to wake up early to pray it would have been an abysmal failure. (Not that I can even fathom making such a decision!) And yet I knew that it might be something that would be good for me. Perhaps that little self-knowledge was just enough of a window to let God in. I can't do it on my own; but I can say yes when he offers me the grace to do it.

No, I don't set an alarm. And yet it happens almost every day. My eyes pop open and I have a moment of clarity, a moment of choice. Sometimes I really am too tired and I choose to roll back over and go back to sleep. But more and more often I find myself stumbling to the couch and answering the call, thanking God for another chance to be faithful.

[4] comments (134 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks

Playing Church

This afternoon I looked up from nursing Ben to see the girls both dressed up and kneeling down at the coffee table. They were singing quietly. I asked if they were praying and Bella replied, "No, we're at Church."

"You're at Church; but not praying?"

"No, we're singing."

I explained that singing at Church is a kind of praying.

I'm bemused about the head coverings. No one in our parish covers her head for Mass. At our former parish, yes, there were a few older women who did. But that's been more than a year. I can only guess maybe she's thinking of the veils at her cousin's first communion.

I wish I'd been able to get a better picture of Sophie in her little green headscarf. She was so adorable.

[0] comments (113 views) |  [0] Trackbacks   [0] Pingbacks