Did I Really Say, "I Can't Find My Candy Cane Cookie Cutter!"?

I did.

There was a time in my life when, had you even hinted I'd one day own a candy cane cookie cutter, I would have snapped, "Is your brain made of candy canes? This is me."

But me is a mom, and moms metamorphose into all manner of things they pledged they'd never be. Like bakers of gingerbread for homemade houses.

Two years ago, I made homemade gingerbread houses for the first time ever in my entirely long life. (I think I have Magical Mrs. M. to thank for this new tradition though I use the concept of "thanks" loosely.) I got Gingerbread Back, remember? That year, I used paper templates like these and cut the pieces out by hand, thereby mangling them upon transfer to the cookie sheet until they mutated into something like this:

(Photo of the Krzywy Domek, thanks to Wikipedia.)

Then I got smart  and bought this cookie cutter set and at the same time, due to some perfect alignment of the planets, discovered parchment paper. (Previously, I must've labored under some delusion that parchment paper was something only the Alton Browns of the universe could afford. Or perhaps it was willful ignorance. Who knew it was parked next to the foil?) Thank you cookie cutter people, and thank you parchment paper, and thank you red wine (note to self: have Atticus pick up wine on the way home tonight.)

Moving on to 2011:  I can honestly say this is actually getting easy ... or, um, -er, anyway. Easier. Time consuming, yes, but no longer excruciating. (I'm sorry, beloved daughters-o-mine, it's true -- the first year was excruciating. Excruciating but fun? Yeah, that works.)

Last week we baked two houses and froze the pieces, and this week we baked one more, along with a couple of pans of gingerbread men (but no candy canes ... I cannot find my candy cane cookie cutter. There. I said it again.)

Ramona originally agreed to to do a graham cracker house, along with several of the other younger kids in our homeschool group. But then she asked if she could do a gingerbread church to add to our gingerbread village, and how could I say no to a church? It seemed like something I'd have to go to confession for. ("So then, Father, I told her no to the church, and she started to cry ... ")

So we baked a church. And more gingerbread men. And a noticeable lack of gingerbread candy canes. (But if anyone mutters so much as a word I'm going to resign my post.)

Other helpful links I should mention:

Here's a great photo-filled how-to for constructing graham cracker houses. (Scroll down for photos of completed projects ... I love the four-year-old's house. Perfectly cute and gloppy.)

Royal icing (aka sweet cement) recipe.

Alton Brown (nothing to do with gingerbread houses, just long-standing obsession with admiration for the man with whom I share a scorn for unitaskers.)

A Gingerbread Tardis and 221-B (Gingerbread) Baker Street

Ah, the evolution of the gingerbread house in the Edmisten house.

It went something like this:

When Anne-with-an-e and Betsy were little girls, Santa always left gingerbread house kits under the tree for them. We built and decorated the houses sometime during the Twelve Days of Christmas. With kits come great advantages for someone like me (someone who has had to grow into the role of craftiness ... I still don't embrace it naturally, but I usually end up happy that we did whatever we did.) Kits have all the pieces you need, and they are already baked. Kits have royal icing mix, and kits come with candy, ready to be slapped on a roof. Kits are convenient.

Kits were The-Only-Way-to-Go for several years, but then a few years back, a friend suggested that we try making gingerbread houses together, from scratch. I was terrified, but I tried it (and I think I coined a new phrase in the process -- Gingerbread Back.) But a new gingerbread era was ushered in, and we haven't looked back. (Though I sometimes gaze longingly at the kits in the store....)

One thing, however, has changed in the last few years. When Anne-with-an-e and Betsy were but wee little girls, a charming gingerbread cottage was all one needed. Ramona's still fine with a charming cottage (her house this year was decorated as a candy store), but Betsy had a Tardis in mind, and Anne-with-an-e (BBC-Sherlock fan extraordinaire) was thinking 221B Baker Street.

First there was the graham cracker prototype:

Then came the first stages of the homemade houses: 

And, the finished products....

The Tardis: 

221B Baker Street (Sherlock's scarf and John's sweater made appearances, and -- though you can't see him very well from this angle -- Moriarty is peeking around the corner from the back of the building): 

And Ramona's Candy Store (she threatened to request Hogwarts, but in the end, she really, really wanted a candy store):

Thus we close the book on this year's gingerbread chapter. The End. Until next year. 

I Should Have an Entire Category Devoted to Gingerbread Houses. But Do I? No.

(I'll take care of that later.)

Ever since we started doing this in 2009, when my friend Johnna and I thought it would be fun (fun! We thought it would be fun!) to make homemade gingerbread for the houses, I have posted about this change in our lifestyle. Because homemade gingerbread houses aren't just an annual trial, holiday project, they are a way of being.

Yes, this has been an evolution:

2009 introduced me to an aching gingerbread back. But the results were worth it.

2010 saw me procrastinating and cursing promising myself to plan a bit better in the future.

2011 saw me getting it all figured out. Cookie cutters -- check. Parchment paper -- check. Gingerbread recipe that we all love -- check. Making only two houses because Ramona said she'd do a graham cracker one instead -- check. Wait, strike that. She did say she'd do a graham cracker one, but then asked so sweetly if she could also have a full-sized gingerbread house. So that was the year Ramona decorated her Ditto house in graham cracker (Thank you, Sarah, who lives in the real Ditto House!) and also made a gingerbread church.

This year, it's all coming together -- the scheduling, the recipe, the tools, the timing. Here's where we are:

Make enough dough for houses for everyone: Check.

Make enough dough for all accoutrements (i.e., gingerbread men, reindeer, candy canes, etc.) Put a note on said accoutrements, forbidding their consumption until after construction day: Check.

Take ibuprofen for back: Check.

Promise readers to share the final results and promise readers and children everywhere that I will keep last year's promise not to complain: Pretty-much-check.

Stay tuned.

Help! I Have Gingerbread Back!

Because I spent the day  hunched over the kitchen counter making and baking homemade (for the first time ever ... please pat me on my aching back) gingerbread for our first-ever homemade gingerbread houses.  Who knew it would be so time consuming?

I got six houses put together:

and after tomorrow they will be beautifully decked out for the holidays.

And for eating.

In the past, Santa has always left gingerbread house kits for the kids on Christmas morning. We then put them together sometime during the Twelve Days of Christmas.  This has always worked well because Santa shops the after-Christmas clearance sales, picks up three kits, and squirrels them away for the following year. Santa never wants the girls to eat those gingerbread houses though, because -- yuck -- how good could they be after sitting in my Santa's closet for a year?

But, last year, Santa struck out on the after Christmas clearance sales and there was nothing in the closet.  So this year, Santa got creative and domestic.  I suggested to Ramona that we try making delicious, edible ("We can really eat them?") homemade houses.  Then, I told her, we can just suggest to Santa that he skip the kits this year. She was all for it.

So today I baked. And assembled. And called my friend for frosting advice.  And asked Atticus, when he arrived home from work, if he came bearing wine. He hadn't.

"I thought you had some wine," he said.

"Not enough," I replied. And then made more royal frosting. Do you know how much of that stuff it takes to keep a roof on?

Tomorrow we'll add candy and other accoutrements and I'll soon report back on our progress. But for now I'm off to give my back a rest and enjoy a glass of something dry and red.

Ramona's Gingerbread Version of the Ditto House

Yesterday, Ramona decorated a graham cracker duo. She came up with this design:

If you haven't seen her inspiration for it, it was this:

See this link for original photo

Thought I was gonna die. 

Despite all my grousing, we of course had a fun afternoon with our homeschooling friends, and the result was this beautiful gingerbread-and-graham-cracker-village: 

Photo thanks to Johnna, because I forgot my camera again. 

Next year: no complaining. I promise. When my kids say, "Building gingerbread houses is great!" I'll just say, "Ditto." 

Bits and Pieces of Our (Twelve) Days (of Christmas)

Did I not learn my lesson last year when I got Gingerbread Back? Did I not see the store shelves overflowing with gingerbread kits this year? Did I not heed my "To Do" list (which, for most of December said, "Bake and freeze gingerbread!")?

No, I did not.

Today there was baking. Frosting was beaten. Houses were constructed. Soon we'll get together with friends for the final step, which includes ridiculous amounts of candy.

~~~~~

The girls have been watching some movies. After Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Anne-with-an-e and Betsy decided that both Richard Dreyfuss and the aliens were cute. As they watched The Sting, they discovered why Robert Redford and Paul Newman were the gold standard of "handsome" in the 70's. Ramona watched Ramona and Beezus, over protest from the rest of us. Bleh.

We all (minus Atticus) saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader at the theater.  Do I attempt a review here? I have so much to say about the Narnia movies and so little to say about them. I love the books dearly. The movies are not the books. Dawn Treader is not as horrible an adaptation as Prince Caspian was, but that isn't much of a recommendation, is it? For what it is, for what it attempted ... I enjoyed the movie. The special effects were fun and magical. I liked sharing the film with my daughters, whispering about what was and wasn't in the book, seeing Eustace's transformation. The general spirit of the book was intact, I think, but it's never quite enough, you know? There was so much more I wanted to see done well and right. Aslan should have scraped and clawed at those scales. The Dufflepuds should not have had bare feet. Those two things are not on a par with one another. But they both bugged me. And so on.

I'm picky. What can I say?

~~~~~~

Among my gifts were some great new books and I hope to nab some serious reading time over these next few days of Christmas. I haven't had time to ignore my children yet, but it's on my to-do list, a la this old post called Blogging, Breaks and Mother Guilt.

And About Those Gingerbread Houses ...

... here are the results of the Gingerbread House Decorating Party (minus three houses, as that family left before we got a picture taken):

Book review: A La Carte, by Tanita Davis

I loved this book.

(Be warned: there are spoilers below, so stop reading now if you don't want to know how it ends.)

I first "met" Tanita S. Davis via her YA lit/writing blog, Finding Wonderland, and through Poetry Friday posts. And though I knew she had a YA novel out (and another one on the way), as usual I was behind on that tower of books stacked by the bed. I recently settled in with this one, and was delighted that I did.

Seventeen-year-old Lainey's life isn't particularly exciting -- she lives with her mom, goes to school, and often hangs out and does her homework at the restaurant where her mom is a chef and co-owner. Lainey's hero is Julia Child, whom she calls "St. Julia" and Lainey dreams of having her own cooking show someday. Occasionally, she even gets to use her mother's restaurant as a test kitchen.

Descriptive passages detailing the colors and flavors, the smells and sounds of a kitchen (both commercial and at home) as well as the many recipes sprinkled throughout the book made me hungry and eager to try some of Lainey's creations.

But what I really loved was the relationships.

Lainey and Sim have been friends for years, and Lainey actually has a huge crush on her cute buddy. But lately Sim has been headed down a new path, taking some wrong turns. Lainey's not entirely sure what's going on with him, but as Sim's actions and choices unfold -- for us and for Lainey -- we see Lainey alternately thrilled and angry, happy to be needed but resentful of being used, and pulled in but pondering the possibility of pulling away.

What I really loved was the honesty, and Lainey's honest, youthful confusion. We can see that Lainey is strongly attracted to Sim, but she's ultimately smart enough not to cave in to that attraction. By the time Sim kisses her, it feels to us like more manipulation from Sim, who is trying to keep a good thing available to him. Lainey honestly acknowledges the "wow" of the kiss, but is able to see beyond it. She comes to see that Sim doesn't really value her as a complete human being. He has used her when she was convenient, and she faces that truth with sad but open eyes.

It's with some residual affection, but ultimately with raw honesty and courage that Lainey knows she must say good-bye to Sim for good.

The ending includes a subtly heartbreaking memory about a gingerbread house, so carefully crafted (both the gingerbread house and the narrative) that it brought me to tears.

That memory, though heartbreaking, is also hopeful, as Lainey looks to her future -- it's a future without Sim, and that is okay, she finally sees. He was never really what she wanted him to be anyway, no matter how strong her feelings felt, no matter how much she wanted him to be what she had imagined he was, or could be.

And that is a message our young girls need to hear (although the book doesn't come across as a "message" piece.) In this way, A la Carte is a bit of an anti-Twilight, offering the perspective that no matter how cute the bad boy is, no matter how powerful the attraction feels, there are other things to consider ....

like the rest of your life, and what you want that life to be.

On the Second Sunday of Advent My Daughters Said to Me...

Anne-with-an-e: Hmmm?

Me: I said it's time to get up.

Anne: What?

Me: Time to get up. Get ready for Mass. Are you awake?

Anne: No.

Me: Are you awake enough to get up and eat?

Anne: No.

Me: What should I do about that?

Anne: Leave me alone.

~~~~~

Anne is not a morning person. Happy Second Sunday of Advent.

(Anne is, however, a good sport, and I'm sure she won't mind that I'm exploiting her night owl nature for the sake of a blog post.)

~~~~~

In other Advent news, the gingerbread house extravaganza had to be postponed due to illness at the home of the hostess. We hope to return to our regularly scheduled gingerbread griping soon.

~~~~~

St. Nicholas visited our house on the eve of his feast day. He left chocolate galore, and really cute socks, and a new Christmas ornament for everyone. Ramona's ornament was somehow broken during the night. I apologized profusely for St. Nicholas's clumsiness. I really have no idea how it could have happened, because you'd think he'd be pretty steady on his feet, with those big, black boots and all, not to mention being the kind of person who is mindful of breakables. But it turned out that St. Nick wasn't the only clumsy one. The next day I was showing Atticus the tiny broken part of Ramona's ornament and I dropped the ornament on the wood floor. Now it has a big, gaping broken part.

I promised Ramona that I'd replace her new ornament. I'm thinking something in a nice plastic or fabric?

~~~~~

Books I still adore reading at this time of year:

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever 
The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas 
The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey
Hanna's Christmas 

Oh, who am I kidding? All of them.

~~~~~

Feast days coming up this week:

Our Lady of Guadalupe and St. Lucia. 

The bread! The bread! You can do it.

I'm not much of a photographer but every year I sigh at this picture of our bread.

Bits and Pieces of Our (Last) Days (of 2014)

It's been quiet here on the blog because I've been on vacation in every way.  (Well, for awhile I was sick, but then it morphed into vacation.) Recent goings-on:

We made gingerbread houses again. Because, surprisingly, that's just what we do. 

A blurry Ramona with houses, mid-assembly. 

The final products: 

 It's our sixth year of making them (thanks, Magical Mrs. M.!) and I finally created a gingerbread house label for the blog. No TARDIS or 221-B this year -- Ramona went candy-laden old school, Betsy did the Psych office (that's the Blueberry parked out front) and Anne did the retirement home of Sherlock Holmes (the yellow jellybeans next to the house are bees and hives): 

~~~~~

I finally got around to Instagram. As much as I love Instagram and Facebook (certain aspects of it...there's the whole love/hate thing), Twitter, et al, I know that sometimes I post things in those places and then neglect my blog. But the blog is the only place I connect with some of you, so today I'm playing catch-up (I'm looking at you, Tanita.)

From Instagram: 

The snowmen (ornaments) Ramona and I made. 

Ramona's version of the Festivus pole.

Sketching, from Big Hero 6, courtesy of Ramona. 

And, just because I like to look at them: Madeleines. 

From Facebook: 

From Twitter: 

~~~~~~

Well, that's about all that my vacation brain can handle today. 

All too soon, it will be back to work and real life. Atticus said last night, "See, here's the problem with my vacations -- I'm so happy to get to be with my family all the time, and then, bam, it's back to work." I love that man. 

Happy Eighth Day of Christmas! 

Books to nourish the mind and the spirit

An interesting and sometimes maddening article by Josephine Nobisso, author and publisher of children's books, can be found here. (Thanks to Lisa Mladinich, on the Catholic Writers Online group, for directing me to it.) My favorite (it's a "you've gotta laugh or you'll cry" instance) case of ignorance cited was the editor who asked for the biblical references to St. Francis. I laughed at that one. The other examples, though, of changing actual quotes and revising history, do make me cry.

I feel compelled to add that not all public schools are as awful as it one might think after reading this article (and Josephine Nobisso does refer to "most" public schools -- she is accurate in not saying "all" but obviously I would not deny her firsthand experience. And she's had some outrageous experiences.) Being in the sometimes strange position of "homeschooling family in which the father makes his living teaching in public schools" I have the opportunity to live in a couple of different worlds. The word "God" is not forbidden in Atticus's school. If the literature he is teaching refers to God, Atticus refers to God. Many of his students know that he is Catholic. (Sometimes he sees them at Mass.) All of this is dealt with in a straightforward way, though he does not proselytize (though a Christian must always hope to live St. Francis's exhortation: "Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words") because that's not what he's there for. He's there to teach about gerunds, dangling modifiers and how not to brazenly split an infinitive, and about Chaucer and how to express one's thoughts on paper. But then, maybe we're insulated, living in a small town as we do.

Back to the matter at hand. We love Josephine's book, The Weight of a Mass, A Tale of Faith, around here. Check out her publishing company, Gingerbread House. The world needs quality and excellence in children's books, and publishers like Gingerbread House are out to provide it.

And I'm looking so forward to Take it to the Queen, A Tale of Hope. It promises to be as lovely and as inspiring as The Weight of a Mass.

A Beautiful New Book From Josephine Nobisso

I've mentioned Josephine Nobisso a number of times, starting here (wherein I talk about The Weight of a Mass -- if you haven't read that one, go buy a copy right now for every child you know who will be receiving First Holy Communion this spring), and then here, when I reviewed Take It to the Queen. I mentioned her again here, and here you'll see that Josephine was kind enough to endorse my book, Through the Year With Mary (in which I included a couple of quotes from Take It to the Queen.)

Now, Gingerbread House Publishing has a new offering: Francis Woke Up Early: 

Every bit as beautiful as Josephine's previous works (of which I'm a huge fan), this jewel is illustrated by Maureen Hyde, an American painter who also lives and works in Italy. 

The story is gentle and lovely, and the paintings immediately transported us to gorgeous Assisi. This book is a bit of a respite, an escape from the noisy world -- an imaginative immersion into beauty, love, and saintly goodness. 

Highly recommended.

Why I'm Adding Little Men to My List of Favorite Homeschooling Books

Although I've loved Little Women for as long as I can remember, I somehow (scandalous!) never got around to reading Little Men and Jo's Boys. I just finished Little Men today and now I have to add all of the following to my quote book:

Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard.

In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A flavor of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.

The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to their limbs.

~~~

Boys at other schools probably learned more from books, but less of that better wisdom which makes good men. Latin, Greek, and mathematics were all very well, but in Professor Bhaer's opinion, self knowledge, self-help, and self-control were more important, and he tried to teach them carefully. People shook their heads sometimes at his ideas, even while they owned that the boys improved wonderfully in manners and morals. But then, as Mrs. Jo said to Nat, "it was an odd school."

~~~

The class stopped in the middle of 7 times 9, and everyone looked up to see what was going on.
Thinking that a lesson in learning to help one another was better than arithmetic just then, Mr. Bhaer told them about Nat, making such an interesting and touching little story out of it that the good-hearted lads all promised to lend him a hand, and felt quite honored to be called upon to impart their stores of wisdom to the chap who fiddled so capitally. This appeal established the right feeling among them, and Nat had few hindrances to struggle against, for every one was glad to give him a "boost" up the ladder of learning.

~~~

Till he was stronger, much study was not good for him, however, and Mrs. Jo found various amusements in the house for him while others were at their books. But his garden was his best medicine, and he worked away like a beaver, preparing his little farm, sowing his beans, watching eagerly to see them grow, and rejoicing over each green leaf and slender stock that shot up and flourished in the warm spring weather. Never was a garden more faithfully hoed. 

~~~

"Let him be a mechanic if he likes," said Mr. Bhaer. "Give a boy a trade, and he is independent. Work is wholesome, and whatever talent these lads possess, be it for poetry or ploughing, it shall be cultivated and made useful to them if possible."

~~~

"How much the lad knows of these things [the natural world]! How absorbed he is in them! And what a mercy it is just now, for he cares so little for books, it would be hard to amuse him while he is laid up; but the boys can supply him with beetles and stones to any extent, and I am glad to find out this taste of his. It is a good one, and may perhaps prove the making of him. If he should turn out a great naturalist, and Nat a musician, I should have cause to be proud of this year's work," and Mrs. Jo sat smiling over her book as she built castles in the air. 

~~~

"Now, boys, I have arranged it so that you can all go," said Mrs. Bhaer, running back again, much relieved, for she loved to make them happy, and always felt miserable when she had disturbed the serenity of her little sons; for she believed that the small hopes and plans and pleasures of children should be tenderly respected by grown-up people, and never rudely thwarted or ridiculed.

~~~

After the last excitement, peace descended upon Plumfield and reigned unbroken for several weeks....

"It is too good to last," said Mrs. Jo; for years of boy-culture had taught her that such lulls were usually followed by outbreaks of some sort, and when less wise women would have thought that the boys had become confirmed saints, she prepared herself for a sudden eruption of the domestic volcano.

~~~

...the boys were charmed with Dan's pleasure, and crowded round him to shake hands and expatiate on the beauties of their gift. In the midst of this pleasant chatter, Dan's eye went to Mrs. Jo, who stood outside the group enjoying the scene with all her heart.

"No, I had nothing to do with it. The boys got it up all themselves," she said, answering the grateful look that seemed to thank her for that happy moment. Dan smiled, and said, in a tone that only she could understand, "It's you all the same."

...He thanked them both with the silent, hearty squeeze he gave the kind hands that had held him up, and led him into the safe refuge of a happy home.

~~~

P.S. Discussing the book on my Facebook page. There are spoilers in the comments, as we're talking about the good, the bad, and the ugly in this book. There were a couple of weird, random things that I didn't like. 

On the Eighth Day of Christmas, I Remembered My Poor Blog (Or, Bits and Pieces of Our Christmas Days)

I am still here. I haven't expired from the sugar highs (though it was a close call one day.)

Some snapshots of our days....

Ramona has been heavily engrossed in making things for her dolls. On this day, Kirsten and Rebecca were at the downtown Christmas tree lighting festival:

Of course there was St. Lucia bread on December 13th, and of course there will be more within the next week: 

This is my new favorite mug, courtesy of my girls: 

(I got two other new favorite mugs, too. Thank you, Magical Mrs. M. and Andrea!)

Ramona made what is classically known as a haul: 

Rebecca helped us ring in the new year last night: 

~~~~~~~~~~

And tomorrow, I'll be back with pictures of the Gingerbread Tardis....

Bits and Pieces of Our Twelve Days of Christmas

It's Twelfth Night!  (And don't forget that St. Lucia bread makes a delicious King's Cake.)

And, although we celebrated the Solemnity of the Epiphany at Mass on Sunday, since tomorrow is the actual date of the Epiphany, tomorrow is the day we'll celebrate again here (i.e., continue to eat celebratory amounts of delicious foods before we decide to give it up for ordinary amounts in ordinary time.)

We've been living in a sort of suspended animation during these Twelve Days of Christmas -- relaxing, and spending family time together. Real life starts again for Atticus today as he heads back to school, and it will come soon enough for the rest of us. But, in the meantime, we've taken these Twelve Days seriously.

I even swatted my children away a number of times while I caught up on some reading. Which reminded me of this past post, which I should have rerun earlier in the Christmas break, but it's never too late for such a reminder.

Happy Twelfth Night!

*****

(from December, 2007):

I've been on vacation from a lot of things, including blogging.

Christmas break is like that.

There's been a lot going on: the kids had a great time at the birthday party of a friend and had an equally great time at a church youth group party, which included going to see National Treasure 2. They went sledding with Atticus and built gingerbread houses with me.

And I've fit in a fair amount of reading (and will be back later with some notes on what I've read.)

But for now, I want to quickly address a little issue we homeschooling mothers sometimes struggle with:

Benign neglect.

Faith, at Dumb Ox Academy, got me thinking about this. Perhaps, a better phrase would be "masterly inactivity" (sounds a little nicer and more deliberate, doesn't it?)

We homeschooling moms are with our kids quite a bit. A lot. And that's a great thing. It's what allows us to pursue our vision of education, to grow closer to our kids, to share ideas and interests and fun.

But, it also sets us up, at times, for guilt. Because, when you're used to being with your kids all the time, you can start to feel a bit guilty if you're not with them, or if you're in the same house, but not fully "present" to them.

I maintain that a bit of masterly inactivity and benign neglect are a good thing.

As I said in a comment to Faith:

As homeschooling moms, we are with our children nearly *all* the time. It’s okay to take periods (like Christmas break) to be “selfish” because it isn’t really selfishness. It’s recharge time. And we need it. As your kids have shown you, they’ll be fine!

I tend to shoo my kids away fairly frequently during Christmas vacation, with a “Not now … I’m reading.”

Mothers need breaks, too. And, learning to entertain oneself without a plan, a schedule, or structure is a necessary life skill for a child.

If you want, record it in your best education-ese on your list of homeschooling accomplishments for 2007:

"Children learned the value of independently chosen and executed pursuits."

Then lose the guilt.

It's Christmas break.

Now, go away.

I'm reading.

Poetry Friday: Emily Dickinson's To-Do List

With a new school year approaching, I'm in list-making mode, much like my beloved Emily Dickinson in Andrea Carlisle's take on the Belle of Amherst's days.

Now I am off to decide what to wear, what to bake, and what to hide.


Emily Dickinson's To-Do List
by Andrea Carlisle

Monday
Figure out what to wear—white dress?
Put hair in bun
Bake gingerbread for Sue
Peer out window at passersby
Write poem
Hide poem

Tuesday
White dress? Off-white dress?
Feed cats
Chat with Lavinia
....

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

The round up is at My Juicy Little Universe. 

Poetry Friday: Emily Dickinson's To-Do List

Because I love to-do lists. Because life sometimes feels this way. Because I love Emily Dickinson so much.


Emily Dickinson's To-Do List
by Andrea Carlisle

Monday
Figure out what to wear—white dress?
Put hair in bun
Bake gingerbread for Sue
Peer out window at passersby
Write poem
Hide poem

Tuesday
White dress? Off-white dress?
Feed cats
Chat with Lavinia
Work in garden
Letter to T.W.H.

Wednesday
White dress or what?

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

The round up is at Poetry for Children.

With New Eyes

During Advent and the Christmas season, I watched as Ramona, time and again, widened her eyes, glowed, and said things like, "Ooooh!" or, "That was such a fun show, Mommy!" or, "I love this! Can we do it again next year?"

"Why is she shushing us during Rudolph?" I wondered and then realized that she did not know how it turned out. Whoosh. How quickly an old mommy forgets.

And it was that way all season long -- wonder and enchantment over things that I think of as the same old stuff. Not that I don't love our same old stuff -- I really do -- but, it's still, well, you know. It's the same old stuff.

But not to a five-year-old who is just awakening in new and thrilling ways to the world around her.

It's intoxicating. To her. To me. To everyone. It's contagious.

It no longer feels like the same old stuff.

Also recently, whenever I read a post at Jennifer's Et tu? I am struck by a similar feeling. If you don't read Et tu? , then you must! Go there. Now.

Jennifer, like me, is a former atheist. Jennifer, like me, is now a Catholic. Jennifer chronicled her conversion, and is now chronicling her life as a new Catholic. It's all new to her, and it's all sublime. Sometimes when I read one of her posts, such as this one (written on Christmas Eve and full of all the anticipation of a bride on the night before her wedding) or this one (written after Christmas Eve and full of the reality of sleep deprivation and crabbiness being redeemed by the One True Thing), I just weep. I weep at her discoveries, her faith, her gratitude. I love that she is so real, so intelligent, and so willing to share what she has found and still struggles to find on this new path.

I remember when it was all new to me, too. And I'm thankful for fresh looks and fresh starts.

And so.

God, A Charlie Brown Christmas, the Eucharist, gingerbread houses, lights on a tree and the Light of the world ....

May I always have the grace to see it all as it were the first time, to see with new and wondering eyes.

Book Review: Take It to the Queen

Josephine Nobisso's newest book, Take It to the Queen: A Tale of Hope is every bit as lovely and inspiring as you hoped it would be.

I know you were hoping it would be lovely and inspiring because you loved The Weight of a Mass, didn't you? So did I.

And Take It to the Queen will not disappoint. Now, I know I'm a book geek, but when I get a glimpse of a creation like this -- so lovingly crafted, so gorgeously illustrated -- I get an almost electrical thrill running through me. I can't wait to savor it.

Sometimes, I purposely wait until I can savor such a thing. I settled in with this one when I was sure no one would bother find need me for a little while, and I began to read. Oh, it's lovely! Inspiring! Hopeful! It is, after all, a tale of hope, and that is what one will take away.

This allegory reminds us that we are a messy, rude, ungrateful, violent, fallen lot, but that we need not despair. Because the King, in His great wisdom, did send the Prince we so desperately need, and He gave us the most gracious Queen Mother, who will never stop interceding for us, no matter how little we deserve such loving intercession and care. The overall effect is that something enormous and magical is at work. And, as any recipient of Grace will affirm, it is.

Don't be a bit worried that you'll overlook any of the symbolism; the author has generously provided rich notes on the dustcover so that you can dig in and share the depth of this story with those people you sent away in order to first read this book your children.

If you want to find out more about Josephine Nobisso and her work, spend some time wandering around Gingerbread Books. You can also read an interview with her at Absolute Write. The first story she tells in that interview conjures that electrical thrill I mentioned, the magic of the creative spark and books. I dare anyone with a literary soul to read it and not be moved. Worth a look, both for readers and writers.

Poetry Friday: "Emily Dickinson's To-Do List" by Andrea Carlisle

I've shared this one before but I have such affection for it that I felt compelled to share it again. Because who doesn't want to speculate about Emily's deliciously original brain? 

What will you wear, bake, or hide today? (Oooh, I sense a poetry prompt here.)

Emily Dickinson's To-Do List
by Andrea Carlisle

Monday
Figure out what to wear—white dress?
Put hair in bun
Bake gingerbread for Sue
Peer out window at passersby
Write poem
Hide poem


Tuesday
White dress? Off-white dress?
....

(Read the rest here, and find out more about Andrea Carlisle here.) 

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Be sure to visit Laura Purdie Salas for this week's Poetry Friday round-up.