Listening to Chant

Patricia in the comments to this post below suggested some great videos on you Tube to play for the girls so we can learn to sing the Ave Maria, Pater Noster and other common chants.

The videos are posted by Giovanni Vianini, director of the Schola Gregoriana Mediolanensis di Milano and organist of the Basilica S. Nereo. He a beautiful voice and has posted hundreds of videos, I'm going to enjoy working my way through them. But these are some good ones to start with.

Pater Noster:






Ave Maria:



Magnificat:

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Some Thoughts on Gentleness and Patience

As I strive to allow God to reshape me in his image, I find myself focusing recently on being more gentle and patient with Isabella and Sophia. God has been giving me words to strengthen me for the journey. Posting them here so I can find them again. And I also thought maybe I should pass some of them on cause they might be useful to someone else.

This piece from finslippy seems an odd choice for this list; but here's the thing: it convicts me. I know it's meant to be tongue-in-cheek. But I sometimes have a deficient sense of humor (Dom tells me so all the time: I'm too serious and spend far too much time analyzing jokes and over-thinking things.) and what I feel when I read it is shame. This is the voice I too often hear, the complaining, it's all about me voice that breeds anger and resentment against my children when I let it rant unchecked. I know that's not how the author intends it; but that's how it speaks to my heart right now, a warning:

If you could slosh as much of your cereal as possible all over the table, that would be fantastic. Cleaning up after you makes me feel useful. When I ask you to help out, you know I'm joking, right? Hilarious!

Read you an entire book while you’re eating your breakfast? No problem—I secretly hate enjoying my coffee and breakfast in peace. Also I am DYING to know how this Magic Tree House book turns out. It’s never the same thing twice.

There’s no rush about getting to school. Put your shoes on whenever.

My raised voice is just an attempt to exercise my lungs. You keep not putting those shoes on, champ.

This came to my attention on the same day as this strongly contrasting piece by the lovely Elizabeth Foss. I love what she says about seeking gentleness and patience:

Often, when I look for ways to inspire virtue in my children, I find instead that virtue is inspired in me first. This one hit me between the eyes. St. Jean Vianney piqued my interest immediately by pointing to the example of a favorite saint. He wrote, “St. Francis de Sales, that great saint, would leave off writing with the letter of a word half-formed in order to reply to an interruption.” Hey, Elizabeth, saints don’t say “just a minute” and then finish writing the sentence or the paragraph or the entire post or project while toddlers melt down and little boys wrestle. They leave the letters half-formed.

Since neither St. Jean Vianney nor St. John Bosco was a mother who worked at home, it probably wasn’t little girls with big blue eyes and crazy curls who interrupted them. No, they probably put their pen down for older people, people who really could wait. People who pretty much didn’t depend on them for the whole world. But my small people depend on me for everything and still I sometimes see them as interruptions.

Surely children must learn to wait; I don’t dispute that fact. Often, though, adults must learn to stop and see the child and to respond with careful attention and thoughtful gentleness. Children can teach us to be present in the moment. They can require us to slow down and truly listen, because, frankly, no one can readily understand a two-year-old without focusing and looking at context and listening carefully and asking clarifying questions. No one can listen to a two-year-old with absentminded attention while attempting to multi-task and really understand what the child is saying. And neither mother nor child grows in virtue if interruptions are met with anger.

Children can teach us gentleness, if only we have teachable spirits. Gentle mothers make an effort to speak softly and less often, to listen carefully and more often. Mothers who are able to permeate the atmosphere of their homes with gentleness can see God’s hand when a child interrupts her work. Like the monastery bell calls a monk, the child calls Mother to service and her work with the child becomes a prayer. If she is wise, she will see opportunity to grow in holiness in every interruption. She will count every call to gentleness over exasperation a blessing.

Yeah, I'm not so god at hearing these tings as a call to holiness. And even when that little voice breaks through the raging of my indignation, I'm not so good at listening to it. I'm more prone to brush it aside: that's all very well for you, it says, but this is a crisis!

Putting myself aside and stepping back to calm down once I get all worked up is hard. I lose it at least once a day, usually more often. But the wonderful thing is that children are wonderfully forgiving, sometimes I feel they are too forgiving. A minute or so after I've blown my top, they will seem to have forgotten it completely and throw their little arms around me. I don't deserve it. Even less do I deserve the infinite patience and mercy of my loving Father who puts up with all my tantrums.

Then there is this pair of posts on the subject of knowing when you are expecting too much of your toddler, which when I look closely I see is often at the root of many of my frustrations. The One Method of So-Called Discipline That Doesn't Work. And a follow-up: Cranky Two-Year Old which offers some good, concrete advice for ways to navigate when you realize you've asked too much and got yourself into a confrontation of wills with a child who is usually helpful an compliant.

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The Hair!!!

What happens when Sophie pulls out the piggy tails and then takes a nap: Wild child.

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Another Rainy Monday

Yesterday the hot water heater was rattling alarmingly and there was a puddle of water underneath it. This morning there was no hot water. So Dom called the repair guy.

Bella freaked out, as usual when a stranger invaded her space. Though not quite so bad as usual. She actually did venture out of her room and even sat within view of him and played with her play dough at the dining room table. But she wanted to be carried if she had to walk through the kitchen past him.

Sophie on the other hand was fascinated. She wanted to perch on the kitchen chair and watch. Then she kept wandering in and stood staring at him. She tried to take some of his tools too. The only time she freaked was when he'd gone out to get something from his tuck and opened the front door suddenly while she was standing right in front of it. She was quite started and ran to bury her head in my lap.

The smell of grease threatened to drown out the smell of my bread baking. But the bread came out beautifully. I haven't made a loaf in a while. Probably will be another while before I do so again. I wish I could figure out how to make a bunch at once and then freeze them but the recipe I use is for a standing mixer and it won't deal with a double load of dough. And I'm too lazy to hand knead.

OB visit this afternoon, signing consent forms with the surgeon. Then he was a bit concerned about the baby's heartbeat, the baseline was a bit low. So I was sent over to the hospital for monitoring. Just 20 minutes on the monitor, he said. Yeah right. I knew better than that. I was there for an hour and a half. Good thing I had a book. The nurses hooked me up and then didn't come back for more than 40 minutes, though the doctor did poke his head in to read the tape, declare it looked fine and told me the nurses would be in soon to send me on my way. Yeah right.

I got very thirsty. Finally a nurse showed up with iced apple juice and graham crackers. I've noticed that maternity ward nurses have a knack of waiting to bring you something until the point when you are so thirsty and hungry that the juice and crackers taste like nectar and ambrosia. Is that planned?

The baby's rate was fine on the hospital monitors. But then they were concerned that I was contracting. I was afraid for a bit they might not let me go home. But they did.

And as I opened my the car door in the driveway I was greeted with an ecstatic exclamation: "Hi, Mama!!!" Evidently Bella had been keeping watch. She gave me a huge hug. Sophie was excited to see me. And then had a meltdown. And my sister had picked up BBQ. Yum, yum, yum.

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Sophie's New Do

Her hair is getting too long. Yesterday I experimented with piggy tails. She loved it.

Also, we finally retired the high chair and promoted her to a booster seat at the table. It was way past time. Now she's so much happier about meals. And already trying to climb in!

It's finally sinking it: she's not my baby any more. She talks in sentences. She brings me book after book to be read. Oh and today she brought me a diaper full of poop. (Note to self, as cute as it is, don't let the toddler run around in just a diaper and shirt. She needs pants.)

The cheek: just another hazard of toddlerhood. She fell and caught it on the corner of the book basket.

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Picture Books from the Library

I'm noticing a trend. Recently whenever I decide I really, really like a picture book we've found it's a poetry book rather than a story book. Not sure why that is. But there you have it. Here are a few of my recent finds from our library adventures.



Listen to the Rain by Bill Martin Jr and John Archambault, illustrated by James Endicott, is a library book I've checked out two different times now. Bella likes it well enough and has chosen it a few times as her nap time read. I think I like it a bit more than she does, though. I'm considering putting it on the wish list to add to our home collection.

Listen to the rain,
the whisper of the rain,
the slow soft sprinkle,
the drip-drop tinkle,
the first wet whisper of the rain.

This is poetry that fills the mouth and refreshes the soul. A tall cool drink of water for a warm sunny day, a perfect accompaniment on a rainy, indoorsy, couch-snuggly, book-reading day. The pictures are lovely as well. There's a sort feel that I can only think of as Japanese, a simplicity of form and line and yet richness of tone.




Owl Moon by Jane Yolen, illustrated by John Schoenherr is the story of a father and child's late-night trek to find a great horned owl in the snowy, moonlight woods.

I know I put this on my list because I saw it recommended somewhere; no idea any longer where that was. Bella and I have both fallen in love with this beautiful story. Both the text and the pictures are perfect. Yolen manages to pull off a first person narrative from the child's perspective and to capture a distinct voice. There is at the same time a lyrical quality to the prose, really it's poetry and not prose at all, that does not seem at odds with that child's voice:

Our feet crunched
over the crisp snow
and little gray footprints
followed us.
Pa made a long shadow,
but mine was short and round.
I had to run after him
every now and then
to keep up,
and my short, round shadow
bumped after me."

and:

"We watched silently
with heat in our mouths,
the heat of all those words
we had not spoken."

The narrator is never named and neither the text nor the pictures ever reveal if the child is a boy or girl, so well bundled against the cold that only the eyes are visible. All you know for sure is that there are a loving father and several older brothers. And a profound communion with nature.

The pictures are as lyrical as the text, full of rich detail, soft and yet crisp. The end notes explain that both author and illustrator draw on their own experiences walking with their children in the nighttime looking for owls and the details have that touch of the well-observed, well-loved landmarks treasured by parents and children.

I've just ordered a copy for our library.




This is one of those books I've seen recommended everywhere, on all the Catholic homeschooling and mom blogs. One of the few picture books about Easter.

I must confess, it hasn't really grabbed me. I don't like reading it. In fact, this book makes me cranky when Bella brings it to me and asks me to read it. I'm considering hiding it until it's time to return it to the library.

The prose doesn't feel right in my mouth. There are some fine images but there are also phrases, sentences, entire passages I want to paraphrase because they are too long or the wording feels clunky. But I don't like paraphrasing really, so I feel conflicted.

The story doesn't really engage me either. It's not quite a parable, not quite a fable not quite a retelling of the gospel from an animal's perspective. Rather it has elements of all of these and doesn't satisfy me as it might if it stuck to one of those forms. I wished it had chosen to either be a parable about the resurrection or be a retelling of the Easter story as seen by a rooster. The Christ child as he appears in the story doesn't resonate with me nor did the character of Petook the rooster. Even Martha the hen turned me off a bit when she was described as smug.

I'm going to stop here because I'm getting just too negative. I'll just say I'm glad this was a library book because I don't want to have to read it over and over again. I know it's a favorite with a lot of people, though, so don't take my word for it. Probably it's just a matter of taste and my being too picky.

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The Tumbleweed Lullaby Collection

I've been meaning to blog about this, but it keeps slipping my mind. Probably because the cd keeps disappearing from my desk. A certain little toddler I know really loves cd jewel cases.

A while ago Dom ran into Catholic musician Michael John Poirier who gifted us with a copy of his cd The Tumbleweed Lullaby Collection. This is a beautiful collection of songs that I have grown to love playing for the girls. And would listen to even if I didn't have children.

There's one track, "O Saint Michael," that gets stuck in my head. Haunting melody. I love it and need to learn the words.

The distributor's site says you should be able to listen to the tracks; but it isn't working for me on this cd. I was able to preview songs on some of his other cds, though. And here's a site that has previews of The Tumbleweed Collection you can listen to and get a sense of the sound.

Most of the tracks are just a solo vocal and guitar accompaniment, which is a sound I really love-- the simplicity and cleanness. there are a few tracks with piano instead of guitar and a few have accompanying vocalists.

Amazon says the cd has been discontinued. But the distributor's site says they have it in stock so you can order it from them.

* * *

Also, while I'm on the subject of music and children, check out this review from Minnesota Mom for a cd collection that sounds awesome. (I listened to some of the preview tracks and I really like the quality) Making Music Praying Twice (unfortunately the price is not in my budget.)


Although I must admit that the one component of the curriculum I'm not quite so excited about is the "kid's songs". I tend not to be a big fan of stuff aimed specifically to children, not only does it often underestimates the; but it tends to be the sort of stuff that grates on my nerves after more than one or two repetitions, if that many. So there are a few tracks on every cd that Ithink I would tend to skip. Or delete from iTunes altogether.

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Saturday

Me walking on the beach with Sophie, who took a few minutes to decide she could walk on the sand but then once she'd made up her mind it was ok took off down the strand until she fell in the mud. Can you see the fog bank rolling in on the horizon?

Our usual Saturday morning outing to the farmer's market in Hingham. Still too early for much produce: strawberries, raspberries (oh so perfectly sweet balanced with tart!), romaine, tomatoes, collards, zucchini, peas. Also muffins and a scone and cookies. And the best iced tea I've ever had: a tall glass of sweetened Southern tea with orange blossom and mint!

A short walk on the beach with the girls. The perfect sea breeze that made me want to linger all day. Followed by a picnic snack by the water: rosemary crostini with smoked salmon pate. Perfect.

Then home to the chore list. So much to do in the final countdown. Oh I am so seriously nesting!!!

Dom hung a ledge shelf for me on the dining room wall. Now I can finally get the framed holy cards with relics (and other religious pictures and candles) off the top of the bookshelf in the dining room (where we keep the jar of potty-training reward candy, the matches and Bella's scissors and all sorts stuff that's been cleared from the table) and into a more appropriate place. It's been bugging me for a while that the relics are just jumbled in there and don't have a special place set aside for them. This is so much better, definitely more reverent. And I won't be tempted to pile junk on this shelf:


On the shelf from left to right: an Madonna and child icon Dom had when we were married, a holy card with relic of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta that Dom received from some Missionaries of Charity who visited our parish, a holy card of the Sacred Heart that I picked up from a table at the Boston Catholic Women's Conference, a holy card with relic of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, a beeswax crucifix my sister brought home from somewhere in Europe, a small candle holder with a picture of Mary that one of Dom's coworker's gave us as a housewarming gift, Immaculate Heart of Mary candle, holy card with relic of Saint Faustina (the card actually says Blessed Faustina, so it must have been printed before her canonization), a triptych of the Madonna and child flanked by angels that Dom had when we were married (an image I love, especially because it's one where she has a book). Above the shelf is a gorgeous icon of the Virgin of Vladimir that my parents bought in Murano, Italy hand painted on Venetian glass.


This afternoon I also made some playdough for Bella using this recipe from the Bookworm. Sort of. We didn't have cream of tartar so I think the texture might be a bit off. And I had to add considerably more flour because it refused to come together into a dough. Poor Bella had her heart set on purple and we had no food coloring. Though it didn't exactly break my heart. I couldn't stop her from eating the dough.

Dom and the girls had lobster (also from the farmer's market) for dinner. I wasn't in the mood so had a leftover hamburger.

While the girls' bath was filling after dinner I managed to rearrange the furniture in their bedroom, swapping Sophie's crib and the bookshelf. I hope that will discourage Bella from perching on the foot of her bed. Unfortunately I don't think it will stop her from sitting on top of the bookshelf.

There were many more things I wanted to do today; but I think I was overly ambitious. I'm satisfied that we made some good progress on my to do list.

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The Day in Brief

A more modest day today. The grocery store this morning. That always eats the entire morning. Honestly.

I started contracting halfway through the shopping list. The Longest Checkout Wait Ever. Oh, wait there was only one lady in front of me and she didn't even take all that long. It was actually quick, it just felt long because I was tiredandinpain.

Lunch was not a pretty thing. Two cranky girls and one extremely cranky mama. I was not patient. It got ugly. But somehow food was eaten. So there's that.

I was so glad to get them down for naps. And then I rested. And, yes, prayed.

Dinner was burgers on the grill and pasta salad. Burgers and dogs have been a staple this summer. Amazingly with all the rain we've had. I'm not necessarily proud of the number of times I've turned to this default. But then again on a night when Dom grills my back isn't screaming in pain.

Because dinner was so painless, I had a little time after dinner to move furniture and vacuum. I'd previously moved the portacrib out of our room this morning. So I vacuumed where it had been and moved the changing table in from the girls' room. Then vacuumed their room and moved the dresser from my sister's room. And put the rug back down that was the victim of an unfortunate accident last night.

I also dusted the top of my dresser and straightened it. And hung two pictures we bought on our honeymoon that have been waiting eight months to be hung. They look so cute there, why did it take so long to hammer two nails into the wall?

Bella discovered the new dresser and spontaneously moved all her clothes into it. Guess she doesn't mind the change. I still have to do some sorting and figuring about where the kids clothes will be stored, how to manage diaper flow and all sorts of things. I'm not very pleased with the layout in our bedroom.

Recently I've discovered at least half a dozen pieces of furniture my life would be better if I had. Sadly, that's not in the budget. So I'll make do. Somehow. Though I keep checking Craig's List, hoping....

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More Nesting

Last night I emptied a gigantic box of papers. This box, mostly papers from my grad school days but some from my first years of teaching at Salem State, had moved with us from our first apartment in Salem to our apartment in Peabody and then from Peabody to our new house. It hadn't been opened since it was packed and I had no idea what was inside.

Most of it went straight into the trash. Even last year I'm not sure I could have parted with many of those papers. I'm in the throes of nesting and uncluttering and that drive helps. I'm desperate to clear a space in the laundry room to put the boxes of baby clothes that are currently in the girls' room.

Also I think my perspective has changed so much in the past year. Being so far away from Salem helps. There is not way now I'm going to go back and teach a class or two. Most of all though is the passage of time that has cemented my sense of identity as wife and mother rather than student or teacher. And I have found that I have an increased focus on homeschooling as an outlet for the intellectual drive that led me to academia in the first place. To me reading and writing about homeschooling is more than just preparing to educate my children, it's part of a greater fascination with pedagogy. To me theorizing about education is a satisfying intellectual endeavor in its own right. I certainly look forward to the practical aspects of teaching but that's not the only reason I read about the subject.

So out went piles and piles of papers. I'm letting go and it's amazingly freeing.

I also cleared off the kitchen table, which had never been properly cleaned after hosting our tomato seedlings and had months and months of accumulated junk on top of the spilled potting soil.

And I rearranged the living room a bit, putting my recliner and computer desk in the corner and moving the kneeler to the other side. I think it will work. The room still needs something, though.

Next up: attacking boxes and boxes of photographs. Dom and I plan to scan what we want to save into his computer and then toss them all in the trash.

Also, rearranging furniture. The changing table needs to move from the girls' room to ours for ease in middle of the night changing. My sister is giving me back the dresser she's been borrowing for the past 9 years and which she brought with her from Texas and I'm going to see if it will work in the girls' room. I think I'm going to move their beds while I'm at it. Right now they are end to end and Bella loves to stand on her foot board and hang off the side of the crib. At least once a week she falls and bangs her head.

And there's a bunch of stuff that needs to go into the shed, including boxes of winter coats and hats, and a few things that need to come out, like the booster seat for Sophie who mostly refuses to sit in the high chair these days. Maybe now that the rain seems to have stopped we'll be able to do that. And maybe I can finally pull out some of the stuff I stashed in there last fall and list it on Freecycle and get rid of it.

Oh yeah, and we still need to get a bassinet. I think I've found the one I want online; but I'm not really in love with it, it's just the best one I've been able to find. Anyone have a bassinet/co-sleeper you're in love with? It has to be at least 30 inches tall because we have a high bed.

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"Homosexuality: A Catholic’s Journey"

The Philosopher Mom directed me to this , three-part series at National Catholic Register. (Unfortunately the three parts don't link to each other. (That's the kind of site design oversight that drives me crazy.)

This is perhaps the best piece I've seen on the topic. The author, Melinda Selmys, has such great insight into the topic and especially good advice on how faithful Catholics can approach the topic because she has been within the homosexual community and is also now a Catholic convert. Her approach is loving and gentle and very reasonable.

Here are a few excerpts:

from Part 1: Psychology or Genetics:

The first thing that must be understood, is that for all of the misrepresentations and faulty logic employed by gay activist groups, their primary claim — that homosexuality is not a choice — really does reflect the experience of persons with same-sex attractions.

While, as the Catechism frankly states, “Its psychological genesis remains largely unexplained,” we do know that there are numerous psychological and possibly biological factors involved that cause a person to feel that they are really, fundamentally and immutably homosexual. This is not simply an excuse used by the gay community in order to give their movement more legitimacy and to generate sympathy for their cause — rather, it is a reflection of their own feelings that this is something that is a part of them, which has always been a part of them, and for which they are in no way responsible.

Essentially, homosexuality seems to be in the same sort of category as something like chronic depression or poor self-image: There may be both physical and psychological components contributing to these disorders, they often arise very early in life, and they are usually the result of factors in early childhood over which the person involved had little, if any, control.

This is not to say that they aren’t responsible for any homosexual activities (although, to quote the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, “circumstances may exist, or may have existed in the past, which would reduce or remove the culpability of the individual in a given instance”), but rather that they are not usually at fault for their homosexual orientation — just as a person suffering from depression is not to be blamed for feeling depressed, but may still be probably morally culpable if he commits suicide.

from Part 2: Evangelizing The Homosexual

This work requires a one-on-one approach — it cannot be done through the mass media — and it cannot be achieved from the pulpit. Most people who have had any success in ministering to persons with same-sex attractions agree that you can’t get anywhere unless you first form a personal relationship.

[snip]
We must be clear on this: Persons with same-sex attractions, even the most strident, anti-Catholic, shamelessly sexualized demonstrators, are not the enemy. They are our own people, who have fallen into enemy hands, and it is our responsibility as Christians to do anything necessary to win them back.

[snip]

We need to bear in mind that many people in the homosexual community feel that they have only ever really been personally accepted by that community — not just because the outside world condemns homosexuality, but because some significant part of the outside world failed to accept their personality even before they had any sort of homosexual feelings.

As a result of this, their genuine personality traits — aspects of themselves that actually are part of the way God made them — are psychologically bound up with their homosexuality. The things that made society (or Daddy or whoever) reject them are a part of their “gayness,” and to reject their homosexuality is, in their eyes, to reject all of those aspects of their personality, as well.

What is necessary, therefore, is to show them that someone can love them, and love all of the things that they erroneously associate with homosexuality, without actually loving their sin. Only when this becomes a practical reality, rather than a theoretical tagline, will they actually believe that it is possible, and understand that they have an identity and a personality with which their sexual desires are not integrally connected.

Since we can’t bring people who identify themselves as “gay” into the Church simply by demonstrating that their actions are contrary to natural law, we need to use another approach.

The one that is most appropriate is, in fact, surprisingly simple: Make the faith appealing. Show them a God who is patient, merciful and loving, a God who brings healing to a world broken by sin. Talk to them about your faith, your experience of God’s healing power and of his forgiveness. Show them that God will meet, perfectly, all of the psychological needs that they have been trying to fulfill through homosexuality.

Part 3: She Helped Me Hear the Truth:

The Church offers all of those who experience homosexual feelings the chance to seek this healing, not because she hates them or wants them to deny themselves, but rather because she knows that in doing God’s will and discovering the incredible depths of his mercy, they will find their life immeasurably enriched.

Well worth reading the whole piece.

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Small Successes

Major bout of house cleaning this morning. Focus on the kitchen. I gave each girl a rag and Bella a spray bottle of water and they helped me clean as I scrubbed the trash can, cabinet faces, the oven door, the dishwasher door, spots of food on the floor. Bella kept asking, "What should I clean next, Mama?" She wiped some walls and washed just about everything I could think to point her towards. Not much actual cleaning, I don't think; but she enjoyed feeling useful. She did do a credible job dusting the chair legs under my supervision.

* * *

Yay! I just gave away a box of toys and board books via Freecycle. Oh there is so much more decluttering to do; but that was a real victory.


* * *

Sophie has taken to asking to get her diaper changed. She walks up to me and grabs at her diaper. Says something that sounds almost like diaper too. And when I ask if she needs her diaper changed she toddles off quickly to the changing table in her bedroom. Adorable.

She also has asked twice for me to put Desitin on her bottom. The other day she started screaming when I began to tape up the diaper, she patted herself on the bottom and reached toward the Desitin jar on top of the dresser. When I picked it up and asked if it was what she wanted, she smiled in that way that means, "You got it, Mama!" Funny girl.

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"Sunday Morning Scramble"

A week or two ago I was inspired to expand a comment I'd left on Kate Wicker's article, Why Children Belong at Mass at Inside Catholic into a post on my blog: 20 Things You Can Do to Help Your Toddler Behave at Mass. I guess this is a case of great minds thinking alike for just as I was finishing that blog post, I received an email from Kate asking if she could interview me for a piece she was writing for Faith and Family Live on the very same subject.

Kate's piece, Sunday Morning Scramble, is much more concise, she is blessed with an editor and a word count that keep her from rambling like I do here on the blog, where I don't so much compose as think aloud. And she offers some beautiful words of wisdom. I was honored to be asked to contribute a few quotes.

I am also saddened, though, reading through many of the responses there. Saddened at how discouraged many mothers are from bringing their small children. Discouraged both by their priests and by their fellow worshipers. And I was saddened too by how many of the mothers really don't think there is any point in fighting the battle to bring their young ones to church. They think that kids won't get anything out of Mass until they are old enough to receive communion. I pray they might have the grace to be persistent and that someday they may be blessed as I have been to see their little ones shine with the light of the love of God as they fold their hands and pray.

Also, while on the subject of bringing young ones to Mass, check out
this review of Magnifikid.

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It's Raining, It's Pouring, It's... Drizzling

Driving home from the store tonight I said something about it raining. A little voice piped up in the back of the car.

Bella: It's not raining.
Me: Yes it is.
B: No. It's not raining. It's cloudy.
Me: Yes, it's cloudy. It's also raining.
B: No, Mama, it's not raining.
Me: Yes, Bella, it's raining.
B: It's not raining. It's drizzling. (Said with a kind of 'how dumb can you be, mama?' tone.)
Me: Yes, it's drizzling. Drizzling is a kind of rain. We're both right.

My sister and I both had to laugh. The way she was so positive she was right and I was wrong. Then she laughed too, not sure why but delighting in our mirth.

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Baby News!!! (not mine)

I am so very excited. I have two friends named Katherine, both met through blogs. Both they and their husbands graduated from UD, though I knew none of them while I was there. Both lovely women have accompanied me spiritually in the last months as we've all been joyfully expecting our babies. And today, on this joyful celebration of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, both Katherines have given birth to daughters named Elizabeth!!!

Please join me in welcoming Mary Elizabeth Johnson, daughter of Katherine and Doug, and Elizabeth Agnes daughter of Katherine and James.

Thanks be to God!!!

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Tuesday's Organizational Accomplishments

Another boring post about my days. I feel a need to record all these mundane details, not sure why. Perhaps to remind myself that things really are happening.

Yesterday we went to Target and I made some more progress at household organization. My sister went with us, which was a huge blessing because I'd left my wallet at home and would have had to go back for it except she offered to pay for my stuff and let me pay her back. (She also got us some treats at Starbucks after we'd finished our shopping.

I got a new floor lamp for the office to replace the broken desk lamp that blew off the bookshelf near the window in the storm the other day. I found some great fabric bins for just $2 each. A steal! I'd been looking at similar bins for a while but couldn't quite justify the cost. For $2, though, I was willing to buy them even if they didn't work very well for the pantry shelves. I was sure I'd find a use for them somewhere. As it turns out, they were perfect.

My sister and I spent some time reorganizing the pantry shelves. I wish I'd thought to take a before picture so you can appreciate the magnitude of the improvement. But anyway here's the after shot:



Unfortunately I started having some contractions last night. Not super serious, just medium-strong and spaced no closer than 5 minutes. But enough to make me put up my feet and ask Dom to finish making dinner. They lasted from early evening till I'd gone to bed. Not fun. But it kept me mindful of praying for my friends who were expecting, two of whom delivered today. So I suppose there was an element of the divine plan there.

So much more I want to get accomplished about the house but I'm also trying to spend time with the girls, and to take it easy. So far I've not had nearly the swelling I had with Sophie. In fact I'm still wearing my wedding ring. But I know that's probably partly because I've been making sure to put my feet up for some time every day.

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Thoughts from the Ninth Month

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young mother in possession of young girls must be in want of a boy. And, sadly, that any mother who has more than one child of one sex must want (or need) to stop having children as soon as she has one of the opposite sex.

I'm getting braced for all the comments that now we have two girls and a boy we can be done. I've already begun receiving them in an oblique way. At least one person upon learning we know we're having a boy has said something to the effect that now we've got our boy, the implication being we can stop. How casually and completely society has assumed control over fertility, control of our bodies, assumed that of course we decide when and how many children to have and stop when we decide to.

I've also been pondering this week about how acceptable it is to voice the sentiment that after two or three children one is "done." The cashier at Target yesterday chatting with me as she scanned our purchases asked when I was due and then asked if I'm having a boy. "When I had my son, I carried just like that," she said, "all big in the front." And I smiled and we chatted more pregnancy and baby and mother talk and I lingered even after we'd finished the transaction. It was a warm moment of connecting with another mother. I felt that the universality of motherhood that creates a special kinship immediately with any other woman who has carried a child in her womb. And then she said something about being done after two, her youngest is six. And my heart sank and I grieved for her, and for all my sisters who proclaim that they are done, that they have deliberately shut out of their lives, out of their hearts any additional blessings that God might want to bestow on them.

Oh I know there are many women who do not have just one or two children from choice, and my heart goes out to them too. God in his tender mercy has allowed me a special insight into that very dark pain. I faced it and bore it for a while when I thought I'd have to have a hysterectomy then the burden was lifted from my shoulders and I was so very blessed with Sophie and now Benedict. But I don't take my bounty for granted. I know they are gifts from a gracious God and that what he gives may so easily be taken away. I know the fragility of the gift of life.

And perhaps it is that dark place I have traveled through that makes me especially sensitive to how little our society values children, how little women think of proclaiming that they are finished with having children, how often children are seen as a burden.

Oh how my heart grieved on Sunday as Dom chatted with our pastor after Mass (they were discussing various Catholic iPhone apps) and I walked about the vestibule with Sophie looking at the statues (She loves baby Jesus with a ball!) I overheard two other women talking as they waited to catch Father's attention. I suppose my belly caught their eyes for when I tuned in they were obviously discussing pregnancy. The older one was explaining that she'd been very sick with her first child and that when that daughter was followed by a son her mother-in-law said at least she didn't have to do that again. They way the woman recounted this remark suggested she was passing on a sage remark. How very sad.

Saddest, though, that she obviously thought nothing of making such a comment within earshot of our very vocally pro-life pastor. So many Catholics have unthinkingly adopted the secular mindset that it is perfectly fine to decide when you are done with having children without ever consulting God on the subject. And that's the thing. I don't think she even realized such a statement is not really compatible with the Church's teaching about openness to life and accepting God's will. I wish more priests would be more vocal about what exactly it is the Church is calling us to when she asks us at marriage to accept children as God sends them. Even our very good pastor tends to address the subject obliquely and doesn't directly respond to the "I'm done" mentality.

Also, I wish more adult Catholics understood the spiritual value of embracing suffering. I was so very very sick during my first trimesters, especially with Bella, and yet that suffering brought me so much closer to God (and to my husband!). I suspect it never occurred to this woman that God was offering her an opportunity to draw closer to him in her suffering. Instead, it seems she rejected the sickness and in rejecting it rejected the possibility of more children. How very, very sad.

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Busy Day

I've been busy. Partly because my brother hit my panic button yesterday when he counted up that I only have 18 days left until D-Day (of should that be B-Day?).

I've been writing, just not here. Writing lists. All the things I keep in my head but that exist only in my head. They need to be where other people can see them: A rough outline of the girls' daily routine, suggestions for meals and snacks, hints about making things run as smoothly as possible for them in my absence. A master grocery list, detailing the basics of what should be in stock in pantry, fridge and freezer, including brand preferences where I have strong ones. My daily checklist of the most basic housekeeping tasks that keep the house running smoothly and prevent the place from looking like a complete disaster area. And a long-term project that I've been working on for a while but am finally motivated to dust off and finish: a Master housekeeping list detailing all the tasks that could possibly need to be done for every room in the house. It's a place to start when someone (especially my sister) wants to help out with house cleaning but has no idea where to start. Also I'm trying to put together a list of my most frequently made recipes and to make sure copies of those recipes are easily accessible. My goal is to get all of these into a binder with pretty tabs and neat labels. Won't that be handy?

Today I was also cooking. I've got a few things I want to make up to freeze. Today's task was sausage and cheese muffins, a quick, protein-packed on-the-go breakfast I've made before. I baked a double batch, 3 dozen muffins. The girls and I ate about four or five of them but there were plenty to stick in the freezer.

I also made a big pot of rice pudding. I've been thinking about rice pudding for weeks now; but today's endeavor was very spur of the moments, inspired by a near-disaster of a burst milk jug. My sister dropped said jug right outside the front door. I ran outside and scooped the leaking container into my biggest mixing bowl (fortunately to hand as I'd just finished washing out the muffin batter). I was able to pour half the gallon into a glass bottle that was sitting on the counter. The rest poured out the bottom into my bowl. I lined a sieve with cheesecloth and strained out the few blades of grass, then plotted to make something cooked with the rescued milk: Rice pudding with brown rice, currants, golden raisins, a hint of cinnamon and lemon.

Finally, I made a pan of my favorite chicken enchiladas with green sauce. It took forever and we didn't eat till late. Partly because the rice pudding needed tending. Partly because I forgot to turn off a burner, grabbed a skillet I didn't know was hot, and singed my thumb and forefinger. I ran plenty of lukewarm water over it and then slathered on the aloe vera and fortunately no big blisters.

The girls have been cranky with all the rain. Cooped up in the house and wanting to get out. Tomorrow I need to take them out.

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Saturday

We went to the farmer's market in Hingham this morning. We got strawberries and beets and sugar snap peas. Scones and muffins and croissants and cookies and coffee for immediate consumption. I think I had a bit of everything. Oh the coffee was good; hard to restrict myself to just a few sips!! We also got fresh cheese (in a brie style) that didn't make it home; Bella and I polished it off I don't think anyone else got more than a bite or two. Salsa and eggs and popcorn and a mint plant. Bella played on the beach and we found a not too long dead horseshoe crab.

Then we headed over to the nearby state park for a little walk in the woods. Dom stayed in the car with Sophie who had fallen asleep. Bella and Tree and I didn't go far, never out of sight of the car. But into the woods enough to feel the calm peace of green trees reaching up to heaven in a natural cathedral. Bella investigated a fallen tree trunk, picked up plenty of pine cones and acorns, told some stories about Pooh making the tree fall over, ran around and had a good time.


Bella gathers "haycorns."


Bella shows off her treasures.

Home and Dom mowed the lawn while I filled up the empty nooks and crannies in little bellies with a bit more food and then put the girls down for their naps. Both were restless and I had to put Sophie in our room to prevent a repeat of yesterday's romping. Then I slipped away to confession and a quiet rest in the church and then picked up milk and ice cream (mint chip) at the dairy across the street from the church.

Dinner was hot dogs and baked beans and the rest of the sugar snap peas with ice-cold limeade. And a few strawberries too. Followed by ice cream and then a bath for the girls. I love watching them splash together in the bath now. And then roll about on our bed.

Many things I'd hoped to do didn't get done. No baking, no sewing, no housecleaning or organizing or getting ready for baby, no writing. And yet I am content that what was done was done well.

(Dom blogs about the morning here.)

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Please Pray with Me

We’ve just received word that my mother-in-law has been rushed to the hospital near her home in Maine with an infection in her leg and a fever. This is particularly serious because she’s had several knee operations, including knee replacement, and has suffered from infections in the knee, which required hospitalization and surgery. They had become so bad that the doctors warned that another infection could cause her to lose her leg or even her life!

So today she called my sister-in-law to say that she had a fever and the telltale redness in her leg. The doctor advised her to call and ambulance right away to get to the hospital and so she’s there now. We’re waiting for an update.

Please, if you will, pray for her, for the low spirits she must be in now and for healing of her leg. Thank you.

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Rainy Friday

Went to the post office this morning. Funny to watch Bella circle and circle around the room, fascinated by everything. I gave her Dom's Netflix envelope to drop in the slot. Oh what joy! Sophie sits on the counter next to me and observes from her own vantage. The lady behind the counter is starting to know us. Knows that the packages are Media Mail unless First Class is cheaper, knows I don't want insurance or delivery confirmation. She asks quickly to make sure, but frames the question in the negative, assuming my usual answer. It's nice to be known.

Went to the library next. The six weeks story time session is over, but library on Friday morning is now a habit. Books were due today, so why not. The librarians all know the girls by name and greet me with warm smiles. A gaggle of teens had taken over a table. School project? The children's librarian kept calling to them with admonitions: The soda goes outside. Don't sit on the table. Keep it down. Move back to the young adult section, please. This area is for little children. She knew them by name, too. A nice small-town touch.

After we'd been there a bit another mom I've chatted with at previous story times came in. Two girls: her oldest is about Bella's age. Her younger daughter is maybe four or five months younger than Sophie. I know the girls' names but haven't introduced myself by name to mom. She's got nice face, though, and we've had some pleasant chats. Something about her attracts me. I like her laid-back casual style, maybe. The way she talks to her children and mine. Hers is the girl Bella seemed to hit it off with the first time they met, running and jumping and laughing. A pleasant surprise to meet them again.

I told the children's librarian about Bella playing story time. She laughed. Later, when she was checking me out, she told me she'd been laid off. So who knows if there will be another story time. I told her I was so sorry to hear that. Didn't know what else to say. As usual, I don't know her name.

It was pouring still when we were done at the library. I might have stayed longer but Sophie's diaper was in great need of attention and then library bathroom floor didn't seem like a great option for this hugely pregnant mama. I did it on the front seat of the minivan, rain falling on poor Sophie.

I wasn't ready to go home yet. Unusual for this home body; but there you go. Impulsively I decided to get in the car and drive. Quickly I found myself on the way to my sister's store, about 20 minutes away. A nice surprise for her, a drink and snack for me and the girls. Sophie had just fallen asleep when we pulled into the Starbucks parking lot. Fortunately, she woke easily and not too cranky. Seeing her favorite auntie probably didn't hurt. My sister was fortuitously about to go on her 30 minute break. She got us some drinks and then sat down with us. Milk for the girls, a decaf iced mocha something or other for me. A ham and cheese sandwich and a chocolate cookie.

It was nice to be a happy surprise. She's been begging me to come since she started and this is the first time I've done so. (Well, except the time Dom and I stopped in with the girls on the way home one day.)

Both girls were still hungry when we got home. Had to feed them a second lunch. Then a late nap. I think Bella was having a hard time going down because she could hear the neighbor kids playing ball outside on the street. I had to go in four times to tell her to stop kicking the wall. Ah well. Sophie, however went down without too much fight. The short nod in the car earlier was too short to hurt. And I'd dosed her with Benadryl too because her eye has been red and oozy again. Definitely allergic and not an infection, though. The skin under the eye is red like she's rubbing it with something that's irritating the skin. Also, it went away last night after I dosed her and came back after she'd been awake a couple of hours. Wish I knew what the irritant is.

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Reading with Bella and Sophie

Isabella has Madeline memorized. She sits with the huge volume on her lap and turns the pages and recites the words as she flips. Almost always on the proper page; but sometimes reciting a page or two ahead of the one she's looking at. Sometimes her intonation is very three, sing-song with her little mispronunciations. Sometimes, though, I hear my voice. The way I read the sentence. A strange echo.

The first time I stood in the other room, almost holding my breath as she read. Could she make it all the way through on her own? Some days later Dom came to me and told me she'd accomplished it. Had I forgotten to tell him? One detail lost in the sea of details.

Sophie meanwhile is all imitation. She grabs a little board book or a Beatrix Potter (Such a friendly small size those are!) and plops down next to Bella and begins to "read." Or she opens the book and carries it around to "sing." Mostly Amen and Alleluia. But sometimes other syllables I can't make out.

Sophie's now at the stage where she stands next to my chair, book in hand, demanding to sit in my lap and be read to. She doesn't usually have the patience for me to slowly turn and read every page. She wants to flip back and forth and look at pictures, mostly. But sometimes she does want me to read the text, at least part of it. She's aware certain words go with the book and wants me to say them. So the most satisfying books right now are either the ones that are only pictures, like the word book that doesn't require more than pointing and naming, or the nursery rhyme board book that I can simply recite the rhymes while she turns pages.

Sometimes Bella reads to Sophie. Oh do I look forward to the days when that can happen more often. I had a flash the other day of how tired I am of certain of the books I've read to Bella upwards of a hundred times and suddenly realized that I'm about to go through the same with Sophie.... and then there will be Benedict. I've already memorized them.... how often can I re-read them to children for whom they are brand new? I am suddenly very, very glad we laid in a new store of board books for Sophie's first birthday. (Thanks, again, wonderful grandparents!!!!)

Now for the first time I'm beginning to glimpse the wonder that is the library from the point of view of the parent. The library where you can bring the books back after a few weeks and not have them underfoot to be shoved in your face. Where you can find new books, the thrill of the unfamiliar. Ah yes, and where they can play on a rainy morning when you just have to get out of the house.

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Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

I have a wee confession to make. Devotion to the Sacred Heart is one of those Catholic things that I've just never got. I grew up seeing the pictures and statues, of course. None in my parents' house; but plenty in the Catholic bookstore they owned. I know many people have a strong devotion and cherish their Sacred Heart images; but they never moved me. Still don't. I look at the bared heart surrounded by thorns sitting oddly outside of Jesus breast and feel nothing but puzzlement. It doesn't help that most of these images are sentimental in the extreme, Catholic kitsch with little artistic merit. I know that to the devout artistic merit isn't the point, the image reminds them of a spiritual reality. Still, it doesn't help explicate the mystery to me.

So I sighed a bit when the calendar told me today was the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus and I began to flip in my Liturgy of the Hours volume to the correct pages. And then I recollected myself and decided to offer up a little prayer. Something like this: "Lord, I don't get it. But I'd like to understand more. Help me to see what others see. Help me to understand what this devotion is trying to teach me. I'm sure there is something here that I need, that will feed me. Help me to find it."

He is so good. Here's the passage by Saint Bonaventure from today's Office of Readings:

Take thought now, redeemed man, and consider how great and worthy is he who hangs on the cross for you. His death brings the dead to life, but at his passing heaven and earth are plunged into mourning and hard rocks are split asunder.

It was a divine decree that permitted one of the soldiers to open his sacred side with a lance. This was done so that the Church might be formed from the side of Christ as he slept the sleep of death on the cross, and so that the Scripture might be fulfilled: ‘They shall look on him whom they pierced’. The blood and water which poured out at that moment were the price of our salvation. Flowing from the secret abyss of our Lord’s heart as from a fountain, this stream gave the sacraments of the Church the power to confer the life of grace, while for those already living in Christ it became a spring of living water welling up to life everlasting.

Arise, then, beloved of Christ! Imitate the dove ‘that nests in a hole in the cliff’, keeping watch at the entrance ‘like the sparrow that finds a home’. There like the turtledove hide your little ones, the fruit of your chaste love. Press your lips to the fountain, ‘draw water from the wells of your Saviour; for this is the spring flowing out of the middle of paradise, dividing into four rivers’, inundating devout hearts, watering the whole earth and making it fertile.

Run with eager desire to this source of life and light, all you who are vowed to God’s service. Come, whoever you may be, and cry out to him with all the strength of your heart. “O indescribable beauty of the most high God and purest radiance of eternal light! Life that gives all life, light that is the source of every other light, preserving in everlasting splendour the myriad flames that have shone before the throne of your divinity from the dawn of time! Eternal and inaccessible fountain, clear and sweet stream flowing from a hidden spring, unseen by mortal eye! None can fathom your depths nor survey your boundaries, none can measure your breadth, nothing can sully your purity. From you flows ‘the river which gladdens the city of God’ and makes us cry out with joy and thanksgiving in hymns of praise to you, for we know by our own experience that ‘with you is the source of life, and in your light we see light’.

The part that really spoke to me was the image of the sparrow that finds a home. A strange image took roost in my imagination: a little bird nestled in the hole in Christ's side. Me, staying close to Him. Protected. A place to build my nest and raise my children, safe from everything that could harm them.

I still don't get the Sacred Heart image. But maybe that will come in time. Even if not, I have plenty to ponder as I go about my day.

Almighty God, we glory in the loving heart of your beloved Son.
As we recall the great things his love has done for us,
may we become worthy to receive overflowing grace
from his heart, the source of heaven’s gifts.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God for ever and ever.
Amen.

Posted by: Melanie Bettinelli on Jun 19, 09 | 6:48 am | Profile

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Sleepy Day

I woke before six this morning. No reason, except that it seems in this last month of pregnancy I don't sleep well. 6 am and I are getting well acquainted. Which i probably just as well because all too soon I'm sure it will become a necessary habit. Baby Benedict was awake and squirming and I suddenly realized I was ravenous. And then I couldn't get back to sleep.

It's actually kind of nice to be up before everyone else, the quiet early morning actually not so quiet but filled with birdsong. But I am not a morning person, so I don't maximize that time. I pray and drift and don't make much of the extra time.

I was, of course, exhausted by ten, eyes dropping as I sat on the couch trying to juggle two girls and two books: Bella on my left insisting on Madeline and Sophie on my right Sandra Boynton. I'd read a page or two in one book till the other girl got antsy, then switch. After two Madeline stories my head was about to burst. I declared it was time to go outside and bundled Sophie into her jacket and then strapped her into the swing. I pulled up a lawn chair and sat near the swing to give the occasional push while I relaxed. She was having none of it, though. No relaxing allowed. I had to sing or chant nursery rhymes. Whenever I stopped, she started to fuss.

Mid-morning snack of cheddar cheese was a bit of a distraction for all of us. Then I gave up on being outside and we moved in to my bed where I lay down and gave Sophie a handful or random objects from my dresser to play with: my glasses case, a rosary and its zippered bag, a holy card of Mother Teresa. I lay my head on the pillow and drifted. She soon made a game of handing me the holy card, demanding that I kiss it and say a prayer. (Don't ask me how a 15 month old child communicates such things, it's what she wanted and I knew it.) After a while, though, I woke from a much longer nod to find that Sophie was being unusually quiet. She'd fallen asleep, slumped with her head against my thigh. I put my head down again and drifted back to sleep, woke up again and settled her in the crook of my arm, and back to sleep for a good, deep twenty-minute snooze. When I woke from that Sophie did too, stirring a bit in my arms. Bella, somehow sensing an end to our nap, drifted in from where she'd been playing in her own room and climbed up next to us on the bed.

Ah sweet bliss of a nap! I've not ever been a good co-sleeper. Only in those early newborn exhaustion days. Otherwise the presence of a child next to me keeps me from ever reaching deep sleep and I end up exhausted and very, very cranky. So this was an unusual interlude for us. Very pleasant. I do like the sweet feel of a little warm sleeping body snuggled next to mine when it isn't squirming, demanding milk and keeping me from my sleep.

Of course, now Sophie and Bella are refusing to take a nap. I hear giggles again. I'm going to have to go in there a third (or is it fourth?) time to tell them to lay down and go to sleep. Usually Sophie is tired enough to just go down without too much of a fight. And Bella is a good napper if she doesn't have the distraction of a sister who wants to play. But having the edge taken off of her tiredness is keeping Sophie awake and she's distracting Bella. I'd bring her out to play until she drops, but I know she's tired and I have to go to the OB soon. Maybe I should put her in the portacrib in my room to cry until she collapses. Probably should have done that in the first place. I suppose the bliss of a nap and my safe drive will balance out with two cranky girls when I get home.

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Please Pray with Me

For my sister-in-law, Evelyn. She announced to the family this weekend that she's expecting a new baby. She's had problems in the past with her progesterone levels and has previously had three miscarriages. She's begun treatment but her levels aren't rising like they have before and she's very worried.

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