In the Heart of my Home

May I Have This Dance?

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

It is a well established fact that Nicholas never reacts to presents. For ten years, we have waited for that thrilled, surprised look. Never happens. 'til now.

Remember this?

1. Snow Day Eating and Reading

2. Missing

3. Time to Build Another Trophy Shelf

4. How Do You Do What You Do?

5. Man of God

6. Seedlings

7. Velveteen Me

8. Messy Mudpie Mornings

9. At The Sea Before My World Rocks Again

10. A Childlike Faith

11. Inhale

12. Morning Walk

13. On Your Last Day of School

14. Before He Goes for Real

15. Nitty Gritty Rhythm

16. Full Heart, Open Hands

17. Balancing Academics with the Rest of Life

18. Say Yes!

 

Daybook for the Octave of Christmas

Outside My Window

There is the blizzard that went pffft. No snow, really. Just wind. Twenty-five degrees and wind.

I am Listening to

The wind.

I am Wearing

Pajama pants and a new McLean Celtic sweatshirt. Stephen has a matching one. I'm not getting dressed today. Nope. And I'm going to nap frequently, too.

 
 

I am so Grateful for

Together. I'm so grateful we have all been together under one snug roof these few days. I worked hard to stay in the present, to soak it all in and really enjoy it without thinking about the inevitable parting. The parting begins today. My children will be coming and going. This is the new cadence of our lives. And it is right and good. Even if it stings a little.

 

I'm Pondering

But I cannot leave without recalling, briefly and in passing, some thoughts I take with me from Nazareth.

First, we learn from its silence. If only we could once again appreciate its great value. We need this wonderful state of mind, beset as we are by the cacophony of strident protests and conflicting claims so characteristic of these turbulent times. The silence of Nazareth should teach us how to meditate in peace and quiet, to reflect on the deeply spiritual, and to be open to the voice of God’s inner wisdom and the counsel of his true teachers. Nazareth can teach us the value of study and preparation, of meditation, of a well-ordered personal spiritual life, and of silent prayer that is known only to God.

Second, we learn about family life. May Nazareth serve as a model of what the family should be. May it show us the family’s holy and enduring character and exemplifying its basic function in society: a community of love and sharing, beautiful for the problems it poses and the rewards it brings; in sum, the perfect setting for rearing children—and for this there is no substitute.

Finally, in Nazareth, the home of a craftsman’s son, we learn about work and the discipline it entails. I would especially like to recognize its value—demanding yet redeeming—and to give it proper respect. I would remind everyone that work has its own dignity. On the other hand, it is not an end in itself. Its value and free character, however, derive not only from its place in the economic system, as they say, but rather from the purpose it serves. from the Office of Readings on the Feast of the Holy Family

 

I am Reading

Not on a Kindle. There are three Kindles in the house now. Not one of them is mine. I might have to remedy that because I'm thinking they're cooler by the minute. I've learned there are word games to be had. There is a function to listen to audiobooks downloaded from Audible. And someone said the Kindle will read to you too, though I haven't yet tried that one.

If you got a Kindle for Christmas, do check out this post at Catholicmom.com for some book suggestions.

 

I am Thinking

How much I love this life and how ironic it is that loving this life makes me sad sometimes, because I jump ahead and I worry about what it will be like when everything is different and there are no sweet baby heads to kiss at night, no boys with nerf guns around every corner, no teenaged drama (actually, I don't think I'll miss that). My word for this year was "now." I'm still trying to live that word. I wish I could report that I have it all figured out and I'm an astonishing success at neither grieving the past or being anxious over the future. I don't and I'm not. This will never be a blog for having it all figured out and sagely giving universally useful advice. It's just a place of pondering and trying to make sense of my little corner of the world. And the atmosphere of the corner keeps changing.

I am Creating

Virtual pages. This week will be about documenting our celebrations, so please bear with me as our family's Christmas bursts all over this space.

 

On my iPod

Nothing new, really. Everyone is playing with Kindles these days. I'm quite sure the iPods will spring to life soon.

 

Towards a Real Education

I've got an idea running around my head for Karoline and Sarah. I want to be a little more organized and intentional with our picture books--something simple but meaningful. I love toddlers and preschoolers; when I was in college, I was perfectly happy to contemplate a future as a preschool teacher forever more. I was so happy teaching preschool in Charlottesville! Now, I have just a few years left with homewgrown preschoolers and I'd like to really soak in it with them. Mary Beth and I wrote the Alphabet Path for Katie and Karoline with intentional early childhood education in mind. Now, I'm thinking something a bit simpler and more straightforward, until we revisit the Alphabet Path in the fall. I'll keep you posted.

 

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

For the longest time, Advent and Christmas didn't really have rhythm; they were more like disruptions to the rhythm. Now, they have a rhythm of their own. I think that comes with time and traditions. It changes some. Never before have we had flights in and flights out, boys leaving to visit friends, or sad goodbyes looming just ahead. Still, though, here at home, in the heart of it all, there is rhythm--predictable and comforting, like knowing there will be cannolis on Christmas Eve and someone will forget to wrap something and put it beneath the tree and a long nap will happen on the third day of Christmas.

We're having a Kind Conversation about

The hard reality of not having a new baby on the way.

To Live the Liturgy

I love the Feast of the Holy Family. It was strange to have it so close on the heels of Christmas. I like to have it to look forward to later in the season. It was nice, though, to go to Mass as a whole family on the feast and we definitely celebrated the day with great enthusiasm.

 

I am Hoping and Praying

for blessings yet to be imagined in the new year. God doesn't really need my wishlist. He usually outdoes anything I can dream up.

 

Around the House

It's still Christmas, all twinkling and glowing. Michael made incredible progress on the basement cleanout. I'm not overwhelmed by putting away great piles of stuff because we really didn't accumulate great piles of stuff last weekend. It's all pretty manageable. I've more organizing to do in the basement but it's not an impossible disaster any more. I'm looking forward to reclaiming the entire floor as wholly useable space. In time for my birthday.

 

From the Kitchen 

Goodness! I cook. I cook all the time. And I bake, too. But this Christmas, I managed to turn out one baking disaster after another. And I set off the smoke detector both Christmas Day and the day after Christmas. Not sure what happened, but I sort of lost my mojo in the kitchen. Hope I find it soon.

One of My Favorite Things

A pretty table. I'm a big advocate of family meals. Every single day. We "do dinner." I cook it. We we eat it--mostly all together, every single night. And I usually set the table with the standard dishes and silverware. During advent, our advent wreath is our centerpiece. Usually, we don't have much of a "tablescape," because it's impractical when we are washing tablecloths every day. But for Christmas, I love to play with the tables. I like to plan, to gather, and to be creative with a table for the season. This year's was really pretty:-).

Sarah Annie this week

Oh gosh. She outdid herself. Again, this year, I was blessed to witness one of those moments in church when you just know God gives us gifts via our children. During Mass yesterday,  when Fr. Taylor lifted the consecrated Host high into the air, all was quiet. Sarah Anne followed the motion with her eyes and said, loudly and clearly, "There's Baby Jesus, too."

And there He was.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

We're pretty laid back for the week. We'll be here at home, for the most part. Mike has taken the whole week off--something utterly unheard of for at least a decade. Paddy is here until the second of January. I'm going to live in the now. That's the plan. Now. 

Picture thoughts:

  


 
comments are open. tell me about your christmas...

 

Sweet, Sweet Virginia: The Gratitude List

We've had some opportunity, lately, to ponder what's important. We've had chances upon chances, tossing and turning in a late autumn bed to imagine what it would be like to live somewhere that isn't here. And when we imagined, we could only go back to thinking about all that we do hold dear here. And in our thoughts and in our hearts, the list grew long. The children sent their lists to their Daddy, the day he told them they were staying. And then, they set about singing exuberantly to a tune sent to them by a Virginia transplant who blooms with us every spring along the banks where Cub Run meets Bull Run. (We tweaked it a bit for our purposes) They sang this song for him, live, as the first Christmas present of the year. They have all been sick and their voices still sound it, but they agreed to record it because I want to keep it forever:-)

I kept my list tucked into my heart, thinking I'd never forget these things, this lesson in gratitude and noticing. But in the past few days, as the dust has settled and the chores of real life have mounted, I find my awareness fading. So, it's time to commit them here, lest I forget them altogether. In no particular order:

~Bailey (and her mom)

~Relatively light traffic, compared to Los Angeles, and the fact that I can get just about anywhere quicker if I stop at the airport and buy a pack of gum;-)

~Street signs with names I recognize and the fact that I actually know my way around

~Memories that spring to life at Accotink Park, on Donegal Lane, and just driving by the Byrd library.

~October

~Bluebells. Gosh, I can't imagine not having that week to mark spring's effusion. Bluebells, bluebells, bluebells.

~The Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. And someday I won't have to look it up to get those words in the right order.

~The National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery of Art

~The Smithsonian

~RFK stadium--it's a ridiculous soccer venue, but I love it in a sort of sentimental way

~D.C. United and a place for Paddy to come home to

~the ferry to Poolesville and playing soccer at Muldoon's Farm, especially early in the morning, especially in the fall

~Speaking of soccer, McLean Premier Soccer, every well-organized, Type A, intense,  happy bit of it

~And speaking of MPS, the D-Bs, every wonderful one of them.

~Homeschool ballet, budding friendships and

~Big brothers playing football nearby

~Tea with Marisa

~Mary Kate and Bonnie

~Frozen nature walks, the new favorite kind, with Carter & Ronan & Mackenzie

~Mary Chris and the new discovery that we can escape to Starbucks for an hour and the world doesn't stop, indeed, my heart is filled and I come home better for it.

~Speaking of Mary Chris, I think she and Jen and I might just have discovered that we love hanging out with paper and scissors at my dining room table. There's more of that in the future.

~Loudoun Community Midwives

~Fr. Taylor

~Catechesis of the Good shepherd

~Youth group at St. Tim's

~Mel and Gracie. Oh my. Mel and Gracie. Can't imagine how we would have even begun to say goodbye.

~Linda

~Local godparents who really do make a difference in my children's lives.

~Megan, who is closer now and who is homeschooling now.

~The sushi restaurant where everybody knows my name. Come to think of it, they know my name at the bank and the grocery store and the coffee shop, too. And I know theirs. It's my town.

~This big house. It's full right now, beds and boys and bodies everywhere. I've spent hours and hours on real estate websites looking at Los Angeles houses. Words cannot convey how grateful I am for my house here. I have new resolve to use every square inch wisely, to be a faithful good steward of space and a willing and cheerful cooperator in God's plan for hospitality. I may be an introvert, but I know that He intends us to entertain angels here.

~Fr. Peter

~the chapel at George Mason

~Ruthie

~Knowing I can go to Charlottesville any time and that sweet city holds the memories of my heart and the essence of home: Grandpa, Barbara, and a soft place to land.

~Jan, Richmond, and meeting halfway in Fredericksburg

~Felicity Town

~Cousins, MM, and Uncle John.

~Grandma and Granddad, here for the important things and the every day things. Always.

 

 

Counting my multitudes with the gratitude community...

 

 

 

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

How internal dialogue colors our perception*

 

For days (weeks maybe), Sarah Annie has been wandering around the house, touching things, and saying "Crazy mess! Crazy mess!" It was beginning to make me feel a wee bit guilty. Is there not enough calm and order in her life? Yesterday, Mike heard her say it and without hesitation, he repeated it back to her: "Christmas! That's right, it's Christmas!"

She's been saying "Christmas" to almost everything she sees. And my head was such a crazy mess I almost missed it.

How are your crazy messes? Comments open:-)

*astute insight: Colleen Mitchell

Psst. It's Not Too Late!

If perhaps, your beloved has that endearing habit of wandering, dazed, through the mall at the eleventh hour, this is a post for you to leave open where he might wander by to see it.

Dear Husband,

It's not too late to get a Kindle.

There are big points to be won here. You can order it today and have it in plenty of time. You can show your thoughtfulness by loading it with:

One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp's thought-provoking book which is only available on Kindle right now. She will curl up with Ann's poetry-prose and ponder the great gift you are in her life. It's a thoughtful gift that she will read only in small bites; it will leave her all glowy and warm and very much in love with life (and you).

and

Small Steps for Catholic Moms, the book I wrote with Danielle Bean. It's arranged to launch the new year with goodness and grace. She'll have a page a day all year long, to ponder her vocation, pray for her family, and give generously of herself to the people she loves. Every single day, she'll fire up her Kindle and remember just how thoughtful and encouraging you are.

So there, you see? It's not too late. And you won't even have to go to the mall.

Happy Birthday, Nicholas Karol!

It was a magical night, ten years ago. At the stroke of ten o'clock, I was hustling your big brothers and sister off to bed after having watched a Christmas special. Daddy was at the grocery store (back when there were no grocery stores in this town). Pop! I heard it and felt it--the unmistakable sound of labor beginning. Two hours until midnight. It was your due date. I never had babies on my due date. They were always late, sometimes even two weeks late. I like to be pregnant, tend to hang on. Besides, I wasn't really much into having a Winter Solstice baby. I was shooting for Christmas. You had other plans. Daddy hurried home and we left in a bustle. We'd done this enough for him to know I meant business.

 

This time was different, though. This time, Christian came along. Aunt Michele met us there to hang out with Christian. She brought her camera. Pictures of the moments after your birth are rare treasures that I couldn't upload very well this morning--sigh. We arrived at the Birthing Inn and we were assured that Margie (my favorite midwife) was on her way. Aunt Michele took Christian to get something to drink while we "got settled." We never got settled.

 

 

You barreled into the world a few ticks before midnight. Margie was there. Christian and Aunt Michele were not. A nurse went to find them and the cord cutting task was delayed until Christian could do it. Then, you and Christian and Daddy huddled together to brighten midnight of the longest night of the year.

And so it seems especially appropriate that the first hours of your tenth birthday--double digits!!--were marked in the quiet of the early morning with Christian and Daddy, gazing in wonder at the historic eclipse. Your life is like that--dotted with wondrous opportunities. And you notice them. You seize them. You are awake for them. Aware of them.

And I? I am ever aware of wonder of you.

Happy Birthday!

Waiting.

Daybook: O Adonai

Outside My Window

There is still a dusting of snow. It's really cold. Really.

I am Listening to

The Donut Man sing The Best Present of All. This song will forever remind me of Christmas ten years ago, when we sang "The Best Present of All is NICHOLAS! The best present of all is our new son!" Dorky, maybe, but it stuck. And oh, how great that gift.

I am Wearing

Knit jeans with long johns underneath, boots, a t-shirt and a cashmere sweater that once belonged to my Uncle Tom. He was 6'4". This sweater is ridiculously big on me but I wear it all the time because I can't wear wool and it's the absolute warmest thing I own.

 

I am so Grateful for

The good soul who made the bed and plumped the pillows and tidied up our room while I put Karoline to sleep. It was such a sight for my sleepy eyes and I slept so very well in that kindly-tended bed. He's a keeper.

 

I'm Pondering

El Shaddai, El Shaddai,
El-Elyon na Adonai,
Age to age You're still the same,
By the power of the name.
El Shaddai, El Shaddai,
Erkamka na Adonai,
We will praise and lift You high,
El Shaddai.

~Michael Card

I am Reading

One Thousand Gifts

On Kindle. Ah, the joy of Kindle--it's the only way to read this book right now. Ann's book is perfect for closing out the year, taking stock, setting goals, growing, stretching and reaching with hope to the new year.

Perfect.

 

I am Thinking

About blog design;-)

I am Creating

Memories. It is inevitable that memories will be created for my children this time of year. Will they be good memories or not-so-good memories? I think, in large part, that is up to me.

 

On my iPod

This is such a powerful song for today's O Antiphon.

 

Towards a Real Education

 We're reading lots of Advent books. And sneaking a few Christmas ones in, too;-)

 

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

 Big, long post in my head about how we create home and how important it is that women embrace this very real and very important work with all our hearts. I don't think that the work we do as wives and mothers is an addendum to our real jobs. It is our real jobs and anything else must be ordered to support it...now, to find the time to write about it.

Uh, it's still in my head;-) Maybe after Christmas.

We're having a Kind Conversation about

Cleaning Checklists

To Live the Liturgy

We are marking our hours with prayer and light. In the morning, we light the Advent spiral and read our Jesse Tree devotional, hang an ornament and say a prayer. At noon, it's Midday Prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours. At dinner, time, the Advent Wreath and our candle song. At bedtime, the St. Andrew Christmas Prayer . The time of each devotion is very short, but I truly love this rhythm. It works for us and I'm already trying to think of ways to hold the same rhythm after Christmas.

But --- all that peace of last week was pretty shattered this week. I've been exceptionally cranky and I can't really put my finger on why. I do think some if it has to do with isolation. I tend to isolate myself. There's so much to do here and so many needs to meet that time to talk with other women is in short supply. Tonight, I took some of that time and spent nearly two hours <gasp> on the phone with a warm, creative homeschooling mom of many. And, to my surprise, I filled my tank. I need to get out more;-)

 

I am Hoping and Praying

For Patrick, in Brazil. He begins his journey home tomorrow and will arrive here Monday. This stretch from Thanksgiving to now has seemed so incredibly, nearly unbearably long. I truly cannot wait to have him home.

 

Around the House

It's a mess. A  stuff-everywhere-I-look mess and it's making me totally nuts.

 

From the Kitchen 

I had some big success the other night with gluten-free flat Pennsylvania Dutch dumplings, using the all purpose baking mix from Cooking for Isaiah.

So far, everything I've made using that substitute has been genuinely good. Worth the price of the book.

One of My Favorite Things

A clean house, decorated for Christmas. One of my very favorite things. I'm tempted to stay up all night in pursuit.

Sarah Annie this week

She says "me" instead of "I" and I think it's the most adorable thing in the world. I dread the day she outgrows it. She also loves to say "Mommy said, 'Yes!'" Makes me smile every time, even though sometimes I said nothing of the sort.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

This is it, isn't it?

Monday, we pick Paddy up at the airport, come home and bake and make fudge. I need to make a trip to Trader Joe's, too.

Tuesday is Nicky's birthday. He wants sushi and Starbuck's with Mom. Sometimes, this is such a tough job;-).

Wednesday I think we'll deliver fudge to Mike's office and go to confession at the Franciscan Monastery.

Thursday we'll get ready in the house and do some cooking. Big Costco trip.

Friday is Christmas Eve. We'll have a seafood feast and Mass at the Shrine.

Christmas Day looks to be a lowkey "just us" kind of day. (Pssst 60% chance of snow.)

The Feast of St. Stephen is our extended family party day...

Picture thoughts:

 

she waits, all joy, with innocent hope, and genuine trust

 

Breaking {this moment} rules

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. I'm really not sure these photos qualify. This is Sarah Annie, captivated, mesmerized, and utterly delighted with "Skype Paddy." But I don't know if I'll savor these moments. She's always miserable if we can't make the connection. She's inevitably frustrated that she can't bring him through that screen and into her real life. And she's utterly disconsolate when we disconnect. I suppose I should have edited out the runny noses, chapped faces, and chocolate smudges on the back of my computer:-) Still, I guess, if we stay in the moment, it's sweet.

If you're inspired to capture a moment, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

 

On Your Last Day of School

So, here you are, Peter Pan. You've gone and grown into a great, big man. The oft-spoken refrain "I don't want to grow up" was one you made your own. Dear boy, you lived your childhood to its limits. You sucked every single drop of sweetness from its days. I am still amazed, struck dumb, with wonder of it all, with the utter joy of the privilege of having a front row seat for these precious years of your life.

All joy!

It surprises me a little that you're graduating early; you've never been especially eager to cast aside your childhood days. But it seems perfect to me that you are graduating in December. You really know how to rock this month. Christmas is a special gift for people like you--people with childlike hearts.

Remember Christmas in Hawaii? No, you probably don't. You were barely a year old and you went around telling everyone "Mele Kalikimaka." You still like the way those words tickle your tongue.

Remember the Christmas of Michael Jordan and Peter Pan? Two little figures. All you wanted. Good thing, too, because it's all we could afford. But you brought them to life in your own inimitable way and they were worth more than all of FAO Schwartz. And the Christmas of the "gum-tar"? You brought it to Mass and Fr. Bob asked you to play. Remember the Christmas of the John Harkes jersey? You wanted to be him; now, you are grateful to call him friend and you amaze him and the rest of us with your tenacity and dedication to the game.

Remember every single Christmas of crafting and painting and making and baking? You inspired unbounded creativity in my heart and in our home.

 

Remember  the Christmas of your First Communion? In the Bellarmine Chapel at George Mason. How much growing you've done in that chapel! How much learning and loving!

And so Christmas comes again and it finds you with a sparkling new diploma, on the threshhold of your grown up life.  You've learned so much, lived so much. You've done good things. And, you've sown some seeds of regret. You've grown. Your Christmas list this year is decidedly practical: a job, a car, dental insurance.

Where's the magic?

Now, there is Real Life.

It's not so bad, Peter Pan. Real Life is a good place for people with childlike hearts. There is a wonder in every day, even in the most mundane workaday places and people. Real Life is a rich place for people who love to learn. You are going to learn way, way more in the next ten years than you have in the last twenty. Real Life is a place of genuine creativity. You will write your message on the hearts of countless people and you will create home for the people you love. Real Life is a place of joy for those who love without limits. So, go do that. Take that childlike faith, that trust in goodness, that heartfelt courage, and love without limits.

The whole world waits.

And watches with immeasurable pride.

 

 

Christmas Giveaway!

I was unaware that it arrived. One of my many helpers must have opened the package. He or she left it on the table right next to the foot of the stairs. It was there that it caught my eye as I was ascending with a stack of laundry. I stopped, went back down those few steps, put down the clothes and picked up the book. And there I was still an hour and a half later, while chaos threatened to bubble up around me and the laundry begged to be tucked away.

I read randomly, flipping through essay after essay, remembering old friends and discovering new inspiration.  Stories for the Homeschool Heart is a book of lessons. Between the covers, we read the lessons mothers learn when they open their hearts to teaching their children at home. It sounds so cliche to write, "You'll laugh; you'll cry," but in that stolen hour and a half, I did both. And when I finally brought myself to put the book down and get on with my day, I was better for having stopped everything to read. And to listen. There's a lot of wisdom there.

The ladies at Stories for the Homeschool Heart are having a giveaway. Drop everything and go enter because today's the last day. And then meander back here, because I'll give you a few more days and another chance to win something.

There's something else I want you to read. Theresa Thomas, who with Patti Armstrong, is an author-editor of Stories for the Homeschool Heart, recently wrote this thoughtful piece: What your Wife Really Wants for Christmas. Go on, read it; I'll wait. And when you come back, leave me a comment and tell me what you really want for Christmas. When you do, you will be entered in a drawing to win a copy of Stories for a Homeschool Heart.

Comments are open, but they are moderated, so you might not see yours right away. Today's that office bowling extravaganza; I'm going to be away from the computer:-) Comments close at 6 PM, my time, on Friday.

Music to Soothe the Soul

Lisa Hendey begins her review of You are Child this way:

The first time I sat and listened to You Are Child by Catherine Benskin and Alan Marcinek, I found myself wishing I was a parishioner at her church.  This talented wife and mother of two, who recently earned professional certification as a Cantor, has the type of voice that fills the room with light and spirit.  What a joy it must be to sit in Mass on Sunday and listen to Catherine lead a congregation in song!

I've been there. A parishioner at Alan Marcinek's church. I've been privileged to hear Catherine and Alan sing and play in person. For several years, these were songs sung on Sundays and weekdays, feast days and funerals. These were songs that made the soundtrack of my life. These are songs my children sing when they are in trouble;-) And they are beautiful songs. Some will say that they not songs for Mass, not quite what we want liturgically. I might agree. But they are praying songs. They are soul-filled songs. They are songs that will echo in your head long, long after you last heard them sung. I stumbled upon them again this evening because I went purposefully in search of a CD of Alan playing the piano. I don't think such a thing exists. But I wish it did.

I found this CD, listened to as many tracks as I could and resolved to go find my copy--or to order a new one.

Sold Out!

Real Learning is sold out in the Heart of my Home Store. Thanks so much for your interest and enthusiasm. I must admit, I was caught off guard and even had to raid our personal stash to fill the orders. There are a few copies of Small Steps and the Journal still available. I can sign and ship until tomorrow morning and then, we'll take a long winter's nap.

It does look like Linda at Sacred Heart Books and Gifts still has copies of Real Learning here.

Need Babysitting & Tutoring While you Wrap?

There's an app for that!

 

 

For a mere $2.99, you can hand your iPod touch or iPhone or iPad to your beginning reader while you finish shopping or do the complicated part of candy making or wrap some presents. And she will be entertained. You will not feel one bit guilty because (just this once;-) you're being domestic during "school time."

There's a Bob Books App!

And you were going to be reading those dear little books anyway, right? Very well done app. Read more and see a demo here. Happy apping and happy wrapping!

She said, "Yes!" Do you?

I hear them whispering in the kitchen as I fold laundry in a room nearby. I can tell they are setting her up. Sure enough, she toddles in, carrying a box of brownie mix, so very proud that, despite her tender age, she has been entrusted with the mission.

 

“We make brownies, Mama?”

 

I hesitate for the briefest moment and then I’m slayed by the most charming two-year-old smile and big, brownie eyes.

 

“Yes,” I reply, hoping the joy on my face mirrors hers, even just a little.

 

She goes back to report, yelling “She said ‘yes!’” And the phrase rings in my ears.

 

She said, “Yes!” It’s a phrase often associated with the Annunciation. The angel Gabriel appears to Mary and asks her assent to being the mother of God.  Mary wholeheartedly embraces God’s plan with her fiat. She said yes. Her “yes” set in motion the salvation of mankind. It also set up mothers everywhere to work like crazy people for the first three and a half weeks of December.

 

We have our lists, our errands, our planning and packaging.  We do it all for these dear people whom we love so much. But in the doing, do we forget the loving? The active loving? Do we say many more “nos” than “yeses?” Forget advent, I am pretty sure I am guilty of that all year ‘round.

 

But it wasn’t always like that. We have a home video of me with my firstborn. He was not quite two. I had just turned 24. We were both had a tendency to wholeheartedly go for the “yes.” Outside of the deck of our little house, we spread butcher paper. And we fingerpainted. With our feet. There was much giggling and much smooshing of paint through our toes. My husband, behind the camera, asked why.

 

“Why, exactly, did you feel the need to do this? Make this mess? Haul out this stuff?”

 

“Because we can,” came my reply. “Because it’s fun and we’re playing with colors and we’re creating art (of sorts) and it’s an absolutely beautiful day out here. Just because we can.”

 

“Works for me,” came the reply and he continued to tape.

 

That is the last videotape we have before I was diagnosed with cancer. “Because we can” rang in my ears for the next year. I promised myself over and over that if I survived I would be a “Yes” mom. I wouldn’t be too busy, too grownup, too preoccupied to get to “yes.” I’d find a way to connect, to create, to cuddle, to care in a very active way. By golly, I’d do it because I’d be just so very grateful if only I could do it. I’d live each day fully and I’d seize every opportunity to actively live love.

 

And that’s the way I’ve lived, mostly. I think most folks who know me would agree that I’m pretty into my kids. Over the years, though, I have become more sedentary, a bit too likely to delegate the playing with them part, and far too likely to think twice before letting them make a mess or better, yet, making a mess with them.

 

That afternoon, when Sarah Anne asked for brownies, I decided that this is the Advent of “Yes.” I did it really in hopes that I could revive an old habit. So, yesterday, when Karoline asked to watch Ramona and Beezus for the bajillionth time, I said “yes.” That was pretty simple. Might even buy me an hour and a half of time to do something productive. Except she had a followup request. “You sit and watch it with me?”

 

Me? Sit? For an hour and a half on a Thursday afternoon? I am so not a sitter.  But sit I did. I watched the whole darling movie with my three littlest girls. When it was over, there was a song playing after the credits.

 

“Get up and dance, Mommy!” And I did. I twirled and picked my sweethearts up in the air. We joined hands and danced in a circle. They looked at me with wonder. The wonder of “Yes.”

 

The song? Live Like There’s No Tomorrow. We danced, in part, to these words:

 

Take a leap and fade and hope you fly, feel what it’s like to be alive
Give it all, what we’ve got and lay it all on the line
And we can find a way to do anything if we try to

Live like there’s no tomorrow, (cause all we have is here right now)
Love like it’s all that we know. (The only chance that we ever found)

 

It’s nearly Christmas. We have right now. Say “Yes!”

 

 

Laundry Again

Today is a determined laundry day. I'm highly motivated. Michael will be home later tonight. With all. his. stuff. He's finished, a brand new college graduate. And I'm guessing he's not bringing home clean clothes. Paddy will be home the beginning of next week. Last time, he brought home 37 pounds of laundry. He has no laundry facilities at school and is required to pay to send it out. A dollar a pound. He doesn't launder all that regularly.

And, I'm making up beds in that room that will soon be full of my big boys. I'm looking so forward to having them home there, even though I know there will be an inevitable fight over the top bunk. Still, it matters to me how the bed looks and feels that first night home. Patrick's Facebook status just a few hours after he arrived here for Thanksgiving was "My own bed:-)" How that made me smile! He appreciated that bed.

But I'm doing laundry today and I'm not blogging. Instead, I leave you with my laundry and linen thoughts from a few years ago. Happy washing!

     It's clean sheet night. I love clean sheet night. My friend Denise reminded me not too long ago that I have had a thing for bedding since I was a little girl. When I first began to babysit, I made 50 cents an hour. Denise and I had quite a little business going there in Navy housing in Charleston, S.C. I saved my quarters until I could buy a $28 dollar quilt from the Sears catalog. I still remember that quilt. It was the beginning of a lifelong romance with linens. I love a well-made bed. There's something about the feel of cool cottons in the summer and warm flannels in the winter. There's something about the way a change of sheets can change a sickbed into a bed of recovery. And oh, the way a quilt can lend personality to a room! I do love beds. I love towels, too. Big, fluffy, super-absorbent towels that wrap the delicious dimples of damp babies after baths. Linens are truly lovely.
    Laundry hampers full of dirty clothes? Not so much. The reality is that I spend far more time in my life tending to the latter than the former.  Sheets get washed once a week. Towels, twice a week. The rest of the laundry is a never-ending hymn sung from that narrow room off the kitchen. Maryan asked about laundry and I'll share a bit here, but really, I know that my laundry system won't be her laundry system. Laundry is one of those tasks every woman must think through for herself. The biggest key, however, is simple and universal (and much like refrigerator cleaning): just do it.

Laundry is a big deal. This is evidenced by the fact the Cheryl Mendelson devotes 200 pages to the topic in Home Comforts--far more than any of us really need to know. What we must know first is that care of clothing and linens must be woven into the day. Let's begin with the end. A dirty boy at the end of a day of play wearing mud-stained clothes is ready to disrobe and take a bath. Where will he put his clothes? In my husband's childhood home, he'd drop them on the floor just outside the bath and they'd magically appear in a drawer, clean and folded before he awakened the next morning. I still can't quite figure out that magic. In our house, it makes sense to have a hampers in the bathrooms. There is one for lights, for darks, for towels, and for Daddy. I like to keep Mike's clothing separate from the mix because he's frequently packing and unpacking and it just works better not to have his clothes tangled up with everyone else's.

Everyone but Karoline knows how to sort into the right hampers. I know there are folks who can't be bothered by sorting. But I likes my whites to look white, my pinks to be pink on purpose, and my colors to stay colorful. By setting up the hampers this way, we bring a little order to the laundry before the process is really begun.

When I launder is very much affected by the reality that our hot water heater is too small for the needs of our family. So, I have to wash at times when no one will need a bath or shower and no dishes will need to be washed. But I can't fold at those times because I'm either busy with the school day or I'm out of the house. [See I told you my system makes sense for me, but is unlikely to be used as is by someone else.]  I wash and dry when water is available. I fold without fail every single morning, before everyone is awake and often again in the evening. I need to wash, dry , and put away at least two loads of laundry a day to stay afloat, sometimes three. This includes cloth diapers, linens and a never-ending number of sports uniforms. Rebecca suggested to me that it would be a good idea to have all the sports uniforms in their own box in the laundry room. I'd wash them, dry them, and return them there. They'd never get into circulation with the rest of the clothes. This idea appeals to me and I'm working on a way to implement it. In a smaller family, it is inefficient to do laundry every day. I do laundry every day because I have the full loads to make it efficient. If you don't have full loads, it's more efficient to wait until you do.

It is possible to do small amounts of laundry several times a week or every day. This system actually tends to work best in large, highly organized households, particularly those in which someone stays home to keep house. But it tends to be adopted, as a kind of default system, in more disorganized households where no one stays home. Frequent laundering geared to need of the day makes it hard to get properly sorted and balanced loads. Besides, this method never gives one a sense of repose, freedom from an accomplished chore. (Home Comforts)

If you live in a large family, you might feel as if this job is never finished. But if you have a system for it, you can reach the end of the day knowing that you have fulfilled the duties necessary to the day. Until the day everyone goes naked all day, this is as close as you're going to come to finishing the laundry. If you are facing Mount Never-rest and it looms formidably in front of you, begin with the jeans. Pull them all out of piles and wash them all at once. These are big and bulky and will give you a jumpstart. Then move to towels-- again they take up a lot of space in the hamper but they are so easy to wash, dry and put away!

When I fold, I take out of circulation anything I think is past its usefulness or state of good repair. I keep a giveaway bag in the laundry room for this purpose. I match socks as I can and toss the inevitable unmatched socks into the sock basket for matching later. My husband is great about pairing his socks and turning them down at the top to keep them together before putting them in the watch. Most of my children are not so good at this. I put ironing into a basket of its own to be done on Thursdays. I fold everything else into baskets according to bedroom. The big kid in the bedroom is in charge of putting them away. I put away my clothes, my husband's clothes,  and the baby's clothes.

Before January, the only time I'd used my ironing board was when I inverted it against my bed and laid on it nine months pregnant to try to get a breech baby to turn (didn't work, by the way). This was not good for the ironing board. It was also five and a half years ago. From that time on, I ironed on occasion if necessary on my bed or wherever. My husband has a vast collection of very nice shirts. When my uncle died six years ago, Mike inherited all three of his wardrobes. My uncle had amazing style-sense and these were all wonderful clothes which fit Mike perfectly. Wonderful, very high maintenance clothes. I used to take all his shirts to the cleaners. In January, Mary Beth's dance teacher asked her to add another class. In an effort to find some discretionary income and not impact the budget, I eliminated the cleaners and added ironing to my regular routine. And I found that I pretty much like it. Ironing on a regular basis is different from the kind of ironing I used to do. Taking the time to smooth the wrinkles is really rather satisfying. Trying to iron while someone stands in front of me in his underwear, shifting from one foot to another while glancing nervously at the clock is not at all satisfying. It's really rather maddening and not a little guilt-inducing. Better to do it on a regular basis. Ironing is great thinking time. My hands are engaged but my mind is free to roam. I find myself thinking about the people who wear the clothes I iron and I often am inspired to pray for them during that time.  Margaret Peterson writes that ironing "requires attention but not thought and so leaves the heart free to meditate on whatever comes to mind, all the while hands go through the familiar steps involved in turning wrinkly things into smooth things" (Keeping Home). I have also found that when I iron on a new ironing board and I use scented ironing spray (or linen water), I get the unexpected benefit of scenting our whole room for several hours. The hot iron makes a sweet-smelling steam and I'm all about aromatherapy!

When I first broke free from my habit of taking clothes out to the cleaners, I was encouraged and somewhat emboldened by Cheryl Mendelson's assertion that "commercial laundries do not do nearly as good a job as you can at home, cause much faster wearing and fading of clothes and linens, and will rarely give the individual attention to cherished garments or expensive linens that you will" (Home Comforts). And all this time I thought "the cleaners" were so much superior to what I could do!

Putting clothes away was a major chore before the mighty purge. We simply did not have room for the clothing and linens we had. The linen closet was so jammed full that a child would throw himself against it to get it to close and the hinge was broken from the force. No more. 42 bags later, we have no more clothes or linens than we have room to store  neatly. There are  very few sheets in the linen closet now. I have one set of summer sheets for each bed and one extra per mattress size. I recently had a chance to test whether this would work during an illness and I'm happy to report we all did just fine. In the autumn, I will add a set of flannel sheets per bed. On sheet changing day each week, I wash and dry the sheets and put them back on the bed. Towels are stored in the linen closet or hung on hooks in the bathroom. Colleen passed along a tip she'd read on the message board: put all the sheets sets inside a pillowcase. You can tell at a glance which sheets are which, the sets are all together and there are no messy edges from the fitted sheets. I truly love this tip and I loved it even more in the middle of the night when I needed to change sickbed sheets!

Laundry is critical to the smooth running of my home. I can't tell you the tears I've shed because someone was packing and I didn't know where the "whatever" was. I remember being reprimanded by a referee when my child wore the wrong color socks with his uniform. The color matters. It's no fun being a bad soccer mom. And I've noticed that as the laundry goes, so goes the rest of my house. I'm not sure whether it's the chicken or the egg, but it does bear itself out time after time. If I let the laundry slide, everything else is sliding, too. Better, instead, to do it well.

 

 

 

On the Feast of St. John of the Cross

“The soul that is attached to anything however much good there may be in it, will not arrive at the liberty of divine union. For whether it be a strong wire rope or a slender and delicate thread that holds the bird, it matters not, if it really holds it fast; for, until the cord be broken the bird cannot fly."

St. John of the Cross

 

I love this quote at this time of year. Of course, immediately, what comes to mind is the wish-listing and the buying and the acquiring of material goods.  I think, however that most of us understand the dangers of attachment to those. This year, I see the same quote a little differently. I recognize, after our discernment regarding a move, that I am attached to a place, to a notion of home, indeed, to a notion of family. I struggled mightily with the idea of leaving here, of having children far flung, of looking towards any mountains other than those rolling, blue-ridged hills. And God kept saying, "But I'll be there. I'll be there. You, know, don't you, that I will be with you wherever you go? "

We aren't moving. Is this because I have a disordered attachment to here, to my kids, to my parents and Mike's? I don't think so. We stepped through the process very carefully and we sought good counsel. I do trust that we didn't decide, but rather uncovered God's will in all of it.But as I go about my familiar Advent routine, thinking to myself that the tree must go there because it always goes there and we have to have antipasto before Christmas dinner because we always do, and I need to make a bajillion pounds of cookies and candy because that's the way we do things, I pause abruptly. Those are all attachments, however fine the thread. The reality is that our decision not to move has had financial impact. And in the past three weeks, we've had some huge unexpected expenses. I am forced to examine all those "Advent attachments" to which a dollar sign is attached. That's as it should be.

I'm also forced to examine those which are less obvious. I look at some of our traditions with a fresh perspective. Is an Advent devotion dear because it draws us closer to Christ and closer to the moments in the manger? Or is it dear for its visual or social or even culinary appeal? Is it possible that the cooking and the crafting and the grand celebrating of all the feasts of Advent can, at the end of the season, prove to be distractions, fine golden threads that keep us tethered to hearth and home, certainly, but prevent us from ascending to Divine Union?

I love this time of year, genuinely love the waiting and wondering, the cadence of our prayer life. I'm grateful that this year Advent brought a very frank examination of every aspect of our life as a family and how we live it. I'm grateful for this new budget and all its challenges. And I'm grateful for St. John of the Cross and the wisdom of his words.

The challenge before us in this new Church year is to live as a family united by love of Him and to embrace holiness and joy without being tethered to the delicate threads of the good, to the detriment of the Best.