Upon having a light bulb in her room replaced:
"Thank you, Mommy! Now I can see my room more betterly."
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Multiply, Schmultiply
Today, on a homeschooling discussion board, I posted this complaint, er ... question:
I'm looking for some real life applications for my daughter for multiplying fractions ... something she can grasp, something beyond the very unreal examples in math books.
Here's how my daughter and I would both respond to the following problem in her math book:
"Larry ordered 3/8 of a pizza. He gave Pat 1/3 of his pizza. How much of a pizza did Pat get?"
She and I would both say this sort of thing:
"Do you think Pat is a guy? Or his wife? And why would someone order 3/8 of a pizza? That's ridiculous. I might order by the slice, but never in fractions. Pat must be a guy friend, because Larry certainly would give his own wife more than 1/3 of 3/8 of a pizza. Are you hungry? Let's get something to eat. Then maybe we could write a story about a hungry mother and daughter who abandon math, join forces to open a pizzeria and hire people to do all the stuff that makes them lapse slowly into comas ... i.e., the measuring, the math ...."
... I do think doubling or tripling is easy for her to see, but what we're missing is when will one use things like this:
1/3 x 3/8
3/4 x 2/3
4/21 x 7/9
and the countless other examples in any math book? What's the point of these? Who uses them?
... When in real life do we do this? When in life do I do this? Or shall we chalk it up to "needed to move on and pass SATs down the road ...."
As you can see, we're big on the living books, literature, history, and oohing and aahhing over science that involves life forms, but the math? Not so much.
The only things I've been able to figure out in answer to my question:
I can think of instances in which we'd need to divide a fraction, and since in the universe of math we divide by inverting and multiplying, we just have to know how to do the pluttification before we can do the division.
Anyone? Anyone?
Sunday, January 29, 2006
The Constant Gardener
I've been haunted by this movie since we watched it. I knew very little about it before Atticus brought it home last night, only vaguely recalling kudos from a reviewer I like, and then reading a brief recommendation in a magazine. The blurbs ("suspense ... web of intrigue ... thriller ...") led me to think this might be one of those absorbing (but in a fun way) movies during which you munch popcorn and try to figure out, along with your hero, which bad guy did what.
This is not a fun movie. But it is many, many other things. Since I'm not a particularly eloquent movie reviewer, I'm not sure I can do them all justice, but I'll mention a few that occur to me.
It is, first of all, visually stunning. It's a relief to see something so original in its vision and to know that Hollywood can still produce art, rather than mere formula.
It is intelligent in plot, subject matter and presentation and it assumes intelligence in its audience. It subtly presumes we are listening, catching hints, nuances and double meanings.
It is a love story. It's about grief and what it does to us. It's about passion, commitment, betrayal and the cost of courage. It is about horror in our world, but it does not descend into the lurid. We are horrified, though, because we know what is being presented to us even when we are not shown every picture and detail. Because of this, the movie remains art and avoids sensationalism (however, I should note that there is nudity in the context of the relationship that was unnecessary.) I couldn't help but think that so many directors of the 21st century would have depicted much of this film's horror in a way that was meant to titillate rather than justly horrify.
When the movie ended, and my tears subsided, I said to Atticus, "What a powerful movie ... I don't think I've said that about a movie for awhile." The performances are a thing of beauty.
Much of the power and beauty lay in the movie's message, which is ultimately life-affirming, as Atticus noted (though you will weep.) Every single life is important, precious, worthwhile. It does make a difference to help one person at a time, one soul that has been placed in your path. And there is real and beautiful marital love, and there are things worth dying for.
(note: the movie is rated R, there is violence, and some brief nudity.)
This is not a fun movie. But it is many, many other things. Since I'm not a particularly eloquent movie reviewer, I'm not sure I can do them all justice, but I'll mention a few that occur to me.
It is, first of all, visually stunning. It's a relief to see something so original in its vision and to know that Hollywood can still produce art, rather than mere formula.
It is intelligent in plot, subject matter and presentation and it assumes intelligence in its audience. It subtly presumes we are listening, catching hints, nuances and double meanings.
It is a love story. It's about grief and what it does to us. It's about passion, commitment, betrayal and the cost of courage. It is about horror in our world, but it does not descend into the lurid. We are horrified, though, because we know what is being presented to us even when we are not shown every picture and detail. Because of this, the movie remains art and avoids sensationalism (however, I should note that there is nudity in the context of the relationship that was unnecessary.) I couldn't help but think that so many directors of the 21st century would have depicted much of this film's horror in a way that was meant to titillate rather than justly horrify.
When the movie ended, and my tears subsided, I said to Atticus, "What a powerful movie ... I don't think I've said that about a movie for awhile." The performances are a thing of beauty.
Much of the power and beauty lay in the movie's message, which is ultimately life-affirming, as Atticus noted (though you will weep.) Every single life is important, precious, worthwhile. It does make a difference to help one person at a time, one soul that has been placed in your path. And there is real and beautiful marital love, and there are things worth dying for.
(note: the movie is rated R, there is violence, and some brief nudity.)
Living in a cyber world
Tonight, after Betsy had constructed a lovely clubhouse in the basement, making use of chairs, blankets, a small tent frame and cushy indoor furnishings that included a bean bag chair and throw pillows, Anne sailed by and said, "Yeah, but does it have a firewall and spam protection?"
Saturday, January 28, 2006
On Giants' Shoulders
My dear friend, Liz Swift, who lives in Vermont, has started her own blog. I'm delighted, because now I don't have to wait for Liz's wonderful, intelligent, newsy emails to find out what's happening in her corner of the world. I can peek in on her life daily, via her On Giants' Shoulders blog.
Liz and I have never actually met in person, since we are "e-pals" ... we met through an online "Converts Connection." When I first wrote to her, the internet was new to me, and I was still quite wary of communicating with anyone I didn't know. But for some reason, I felt compelled to respond to Liz after reading a short form of her conversion story. Happily for me, we've corresponded from that time on, and I've been the extremely fortunate beneficiary of her wisdom, knowledge and friendship. She was a vital mentor to me in my homeschooling, and it was in part thanks to Liz's encouragement and her example that we are the kind of homeschool that reads, reads, reads and that we know that that truly is education.
Welcome to Blogdom, Liz. We're a better place for having you join us.
Liz and I have never actually met in person, since we are "e-pals" ... we met through an online "Converts Connection." When I first wrote to her, the internet was new to me, and I was still quite wary of communicating with anyone I didn't know. But for some reason, I felt compelled to respond to Liz after reading a short form of her conversion story. Happily for me, we've corresponded from that time on, and I've been the extremely fortunate beneficiary of her wisdom, knowledge and friendship. She was a vital mentor to me in my homeschooling, and it was in part thanks to Liz's encouragement and her example that we are the kind of homeschool that reads, reads, reads and that we know that that truly is education.
Welcome to Blogdom, Liz. We're a better place for having you join us.
Grateful Betsy
Last night, during bedtime prayers, Betsy recounted all the things she was thankful to God for about the day:
"Thank you, God, for our library trip today, and for all the books I get to have, and for reading in the car and for warm weather, and for going to the lake, and for sitting on the pier lost in my own world for awhile ...."
Then she stopped, looked at me with her "Isn't this amazing?" look, and continued:
"There were so many good things about today."
Indeed. And you, my sweet, precious child ... you are one of them. My sweet, grateful Betsy makes me an even more grateful mom.
"Thank you, God, for our library trip today, and for all the books I get to have, and for reading in the car and for warm weather, and for going to the lake, and for sitting on the pier lost in my own world for awhile ...."
Then she stopped, looked at me with her "Isn't this amazing?" look, and continued:
"There were so many good things about today."
Indeed. And you, my sweet, precious child ... you are one of them. My sweet, grateful Betsy makes me an even more grateful mom.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Our unschoolish ways
In the last couple of days, the girls have pursued the following of their own initiative:
Anne:
Copywork that consisted of the scientific names of a variety of animals, done after perusing the National Geographic Encyclopedia of Animals.
A science notebook
Coloring a picture of an Edouard Manet painting, found in a "Masterpieces" coloring book
Betsy:
Writing her own Penderwicks story
Perfecting her drawings of bunnies
Making sock dolls
Ramona:
Her main talent is making us laugh, of course. Today, she asked me to read "the joke book" again. I wasn't sure what she meant until she got out Famous Poems Old and New and handed it to me. Then I remembered: when I read from it last week, I read a few Ogden Nash poems.
All of them:
Playing Penderwicks
Playing Little Women
Playing Redwall with friends who visited today
There's one common thread that runs through our homeschool, our unschool, and our schizophrenic school: we read. We read together, we read alone, we read all the time. And we talk while we read.
It's an unbeatable combination.
Anne:
Copywork that consisted of the scientific names of a variety of animals, done after perusing the National Geographic Encyclopedia of Animals.
A science notebook
Coloring a picture of an Edouard Manet painting, found in a "Masterpieces" coloring book
Betsy:
Writing her own Penderwicks story
Perfecting her drawings of bunnies
Making sock dolls
Ramona:
Her main talent is making us laugh, of course. Today, she asked me to read "the joke book" again. I wasn't sure what she meant until she got out Famous Poems Old and New and handed it to me. Then I remembered: when I read from it last week, I read a few Ogden Nash poems.
All of them:
Playing Penderwicks
Playing Little Women
Playing Redwall with friends who visited today
There's one common thread that runs through our homeschool, our unschool, and our schizophrenic school: we read. We read together, we read alone, we read all the time. And we talk while we read.
It's an unbeatable combination.
The Triop-enderwicks
We've now found four of these new little pets and they've been christened Rosalind, Skye, Jane, and Batty.
(See Bonny Glen for the original recommendation that introduced us to the Penderwick girls.)
(See Bonny Glen for the original recommendation that introduced us to the Penderwick girls.)
I'm looking forward to this one
Let's see ... essays by Maureen Wittmann, Alicia Van Hecke, Cay Gibson, MacBeth Derham, Susie Lloyd, Pete Vere, Joan Stromberg, Rachel Watkins, Steve Wood, Nancy C. Brown, Marcia Neill, Kim Fry, and Michael Aquilina III, as well as a host of others ...
Yeah, I'll break my promise to myself to shelve the book-buying for awhile.
Looks like it'll soon be available from Sophia Institute Press, and is already showing up online at Barnes and Noble.
Cappuccino, triops and life as we know it
Last night, when I couldn't sleep (which I'm sure had nothing to do with the cappuccino I relished while out for Mommy/Daughter time with Anne), I kept returning to the triops. Not literally returning -- I was snuggled cozily in my bed, happy to leave the triops to their brightly lit, 60-watt sleeping spot -- but rather rethinking Betsy's reaction to her find. Everyone's reaction. The delight, the relief, the excitement. It was all about life.
I just took a peek at Dictionary.com. It blithely tells me that "life" is:
"The property or quality that distinguishes living organisms from dead organisms and inanimate matter, manifested in functions such as metabolism, growth, reproduction, and response to stimuli or adaptation to the environment originating from within the organism."
Hmmm. Yes. That's all true. But it fails to tell me this: why is it so unutterably exhilarating? Why did the birth of these uncomely little creatures inspire such happiness? Why do I feel completely satisfied that they are motoring around a small tank in my kitchen?
There's the usual suspect: it makes the children happy to see their experiment work. Yes. Yes, it does. And it's true that what makes them happy makes me happy, unless you count jumping on the bed, which, truth be told, sometimes makes me happy, too.
But, there's something more. This life business, this animation, this brio and verve, vitality and motion ... this being is more than an experiment. Being in on the start of life -- whether it's adding water to triops eggs, or reading of Dr. Frankenstein's desire to create it, watching a kitten being born or looking forward to one's first baby -- does something to us. The baby excitement is understandable (of course we look forward to a new baby, you silly homeschooling woman ... is this what you're teaching your children?) But why are science experiments involving life so irresistable?
Because even in homely little triops, evidence of God abounds. "The miracle of life" has become such a cliche that we lose sight of its truth. Am I really gushing over these odd little prehistoric creatures? Yes. Because they are God at His most basic and His most complex. How does He do it? He creates a simple creature that inspires in us, His most complex, disproportionate emotions of wonder, awe, and excitement.
In my atheist days I would have roared with laughter at the silly Christian, waxing poetic over something purchased from the science section of Hobby Lobby. But today? Today I know that God is in all details, and the detail that makes a little girl shout with joy over life -- any life -- is a detail I want to be in on, it's a bounty I want to share.
Life, in all its varying forms, is intoxicating. God meant it to be.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
It lives!
I'm stunned. We didn't kill the little critters.
We've spotted two living triops so far. Betsy was the first to find one though "find" is a weak word here, belying her dedication to her post. Her patience in poring over the tank was admirable. I checked several times today, but not once had the perseverance to stand guard as she did, hawk-like and ready to leap with glee at the discovery of life, announcing to all that "It's swimming! I saw one swimming!"
These miniscule creatures aren't easy to spot (though they apparently can grow to two inches long if properly -- or would that be improperly? -- gorged.) Right now, just 24 hours after sprinkling (what was left of) the eggs in the tank, they're no bigger than pinpoints, but they are certainly mobile little things, bustling about in their restless yet industrious-looking way. I'm fascinated.
Check out the Triops website to see more about them.
We've spotted two living triops so far. Betsy was the first to find one though "find" is a weak word here, belying her dedication to her post. Her patience in poring over the tank was admirable. I checked several times today, but not once had the perseverance to stand guard as she did, hawk-like and ready to leap with glee at the discovery of life, announcing to all that "It's swimming! I saw one swimming!"
These miniscule creatures aren't easy to spot (though they apparently can grow to two inches long if properly -- or would that be improperly? -- gorged.) Right now, just 24 hours after sprinkling (what was left of) the eggs in the tank, they're no bigger than pinpoints, but they are certainly mobile little things, bustling about in their restless yet industrious-looking way. I'm fascinated.
Check out the Triops website to see more about them.
Science today
Triops have the "Yuck Factor" going for them. Unfortunately, I'm not entirely convinced we'll achieve the Yuck Factor, given our Ramona-start to this project.
Yesterday as we readied the tank, Ramona managed to open the egg container and lose a few (?) of the eggs. She also may have gotten a drop of cold water in there. Uh-oh. These creatures, while high on the Yuck Scale, are also high on the maintenance scale for hatching. Conditions and temperatures must be optimal, or -- guess what? -- no Triops.
Anne is eagerly tracking results in her science notebook. Wish us luck, yuck and crystals (we're trying to grow those, too.)
Ramona Moments
Upon receiving a yellow straw with her milk, instead of the requested red:
"Weeell, yellow's okay, too. Yellow is on my color list."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And, after using the yellow straw with gusto:
"Darn it! My milk is over!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In her sisters' room, holding the remote from Betsy's remote controlled car:
"Mommy, I don't think this wuh-mote is working," said Ramona, just as the car went flying off the dresser.
"Ooooh ... maybe it is .... "
"Weeell, yellow's okay, too. Yellow is on my color list."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And, after using the yellow straw with gusto:
"Darn it! My milk is over!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In her sisters' room, holding the remote from Betsy's remote controlled car:
"Mommy, I don't think this wuh-mote is working," said Ramona, just as the car went flying off the dresser.
"Ooooh ... maybe it is .... "
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Feast of St. Francis de Sales
Doctor of the Church and patron saint of authors, journalists, and the deaf.
"Oh what remorse we shall feel at the end of our lives, when we look back upon the great number of instructions and examples afforded by God and the Saints for our perfection, and so carelessly received by us! If this end were to come to you today, how would you be pleased with the life you have led this year?" -- St. Francis de Sales
Prayer of St. Francis de Sales
Lord, I am yours,
and I must belong to no one but you.
My soul is yours,
and must live only by you.
My will is yours,
and must love only for you.
I must love you as my first cause,
since I am from you.
I must love you as my end and rest,
since I am for you.
I must love you more than my own being,
since my being subsists by you.
I must love you more than myself,
since I am all yours and all in you.
AMEN.
Monday, January 23, 2006
More on prayer and penance
Don't forget to check in at the After Abortion blog today, as they have tons of links and reports there.
I'm not sure there's anything cuter
than a three-year-old in a blanket sleeper toting a basket of books with her wherever she goes.
Crocheting 101
That's "101" as in "101 feet."
Betsy's current obsession is crocheting. Since I don't know much about it beyond making a chain, that's what Betsy's doing. And a long chain it is. So far, it runs from the living room through the kitchen, into the bathroom, and back through the living room. Her goal is to have it continue its path down the stairs and all over the basement.
I'm not sure it's any more useful than the gum wrapper chains I made when I was a kid, but it's prettier, I think, and more satisfying to its creator (though I was quite proud of those gum-wrappers-turned-art.)
Our next step is to figure out what to do beyond chains. Looks like the library has "Kids crochet : projects for kids of all ages" and a video called "Kids in Stitches." And fortunately, the library is never more than a few days away.
Betsy's current obsession is crocheting. Since I don't know much about it beyond making a chain, that's what Betsy's doing. And a long chain it is. So far, it runs from the living room through the kitchen, into the bathroom, and back through the living room. Her goal is to have it continue its path down the stairs and all over the basement.
I'm not sure it's any more useful than the gum wrapper chains I made when I was a kid, but it's prettier, I think, and more satisfying to its creator (though I was quite proud of those gum-wrappers-turned-art.)
Our next step is to figure out what to do beyond chains. Looks like the library has "Kids crochet : projects for kids of all ages" and a video called "Kids in Stitches." And fortunately, the library is never more than a few days away.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
It was cleaning day
and Anne said, "Mom, you know that satisfied feeling you get when the vacuum cleaner whisks up a pile of dirt or a big dust bunny?"
"Yes?" I ventured, wondering where this was going.
"Well, I know a room that will be particularly satisfying to clean."
Yikes. She was right.
But I already have a full-time job
"Already in reading the remarkable amount of material the present Holy Father writes each week, it is clear, as in the case of his predecessor, that it is a full time job just to keep up with him. "
So begins this article by Fr. James V. Schall at Ignatius Insight, in which he points out what a prolific, scholarly and yet still accessible man is our current Holy Father.
Fr. Schall writes:
"The Pope is clearly very aware of the high level of intelligence demanded within the Church. The Catholic Church is definitely a thing of intellect. "
Before I began to study the Catholic faith, I was convinced that it was as far from "a thing of intellect" as an earthworm is from the human brain. What surprised and amazed me about Catholicism, as I dug more deeply into it, was the richness of its intellectual tradition, the depth of thought and study that is part and parcel of the faith. As Fr. Schall also notes:
"This Pope is well worth keeping up with. Already we can see that he is on a daily basis as productive as the great John Paul II. Already we can see a great theological mind at work explaining to us what revelation means in our world."
I'll try, I'll try ... to keep up not only with Anne, Betsy and Ramona, but also with this extraordinary man whom we are blessed to call our shepherd.
So begins this article by Fr. James V. Schall at Ignatius Insight, in which he points out what a prolific, scholarly and yet still accessible man is our current Holy Father.
Fr. Schall writes:
"The Pope is clearly very aware of the high level of intelligence demanded within the Church. The Catholic Church is definitely a thing of intellect. "
Before I began to study the Catholic faith, I was convinced that it was as far from "a thing of intellect" as an earthworm is from the human brain. What surprised and amazed me about Catholicism, as I dug more deeply into it, was the richness of its intellectual tradition, the depth of thought and study that is part and parcel of the faith. As Fr. Schall also notes:
"This Pope is well worth keeping up with. Already we can see that he is on a daily basis as productive as the great John Paul II. Already we can see a great theological mind at work explaining to us what revelation means in our world."
I'll try, I'll try ... to keep up not only with Anne, Betsy and Ramona, but also with this extraordinary man whom we are blessed to call our shepherd.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
We're going the wrong way
We recently dropped our cable TV service from "Basic" to "So Basic I Can't Believe We Have To Pay For This."
Though we've always had screen limits, too many little things (i.e., awful shows) had crept into our lives. So, I was looking forward to having television fade quietly away, like a lingering odor that finally fully evaporates.
My kids were a little bummed that they had to give up a couple of favorite cable shows, but I'd just convinced them that they'd live when we had a friend over. This friend comes from a household with no cable (in other words, fuzzy PBS and one even-fuzzier-network.) So, I was surprised when the kids said, "Can we watch one of E.'s favorite shows?" I said, "Sure ... what is it? CyberChase? Reading Rainbow?"
"No," they said. "Wheel of Fortune!"
Wheel of Fortune? Fabulous prizes-Pat Sajak-Vanna White-a new dress every night ... That Wheel of Fortune?
Yup, that's the one. Somehow I didn't think pulling cable would lead us to "Wheel of Fortune," but nothing in my life ever seems to go as predicted, so all I can do is laugh.
And mourn the loss of Alton Brown and "Good Eats." Now, that's worth the price of cable. We may have to rethink this whole Basic thing ....
Though we've always had screen limits, too many little things (i.e., awful shows) had crept into our lives. So, I was looking forward to having television fade quietly away, like a lingering odor that finally fully evaporates.
My kids were a little bummed that they had to give up a couple of favorite cable shows, but I'd just convinced them that they'd live when we had a friend over. This friend comes from a household with no cable (in other words, fuzzy PBS and one even-fuzzier-network.) So, I was surprised when the kids said, "Can we watch one of E.'s favorite shows?" I said, "Sure ... what is it? CyberChase? Reading Rainbow?"
"No," they said. "Wheel of Fortune!"
Wheel of Fortune? Fabulous prizes-Pat Sajak-Vanna White-a new dress every night ... That Wheel of Fortune?
Yup, that's the one. Somehow I didn't think pulling cable would lead us to "Wheel of Fortune," but nothing in my life ever seems to go as predicted, so all I can do is laugh.
And mourn the loss of Alton Brown and "Good Eats." Now, that's worth the price of cable. We may have to rethink this whole Basic thing ....
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
And, Anne's pro-life comment today
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"I was just thinking ... shouldn't our birthdays be the day we were conceived instead of the day we were born? I mean, we were really born when we were conceived, so how come we don't celebrate our birthdays based on that?"
Ah, the excellent questions children ask. It's all so clear to them.
"Yes?"
"I was just thinking ... shouldn't our birthdays be the day we were conceived instead of the day we were born? I mean, we were really born when we were conceived, so how come we don't celebrate our birthdays based on that?"
Ah, the excellent questions children ask. It's all so clear to them.
"Homeschoolalong" with Atypical and others
This post at Atypical Homeschool is about doing a "Homeschool-along." Reminds me of the wonderful idea over at 4 Real Learning to do "Picture Study of the Month" and "Composer of the Month." Such treats!
On a pro-life roll today
The After Abortion blog is compelling, admirable in its attempt to create and sustain genuine discussion sans labelling, namecalling and accusations. If you haven't had a chance to visit it, take a look.
One of yesterday's posts is fascinating. It's about the dynamic at work among (or tension between) post-abortive women and the pro-life movement in general. As Emily observes:
And, the thing that comes to my mind is that the "pro-life movement in general" is full of post-abortive women, though most are silent, thus creating a false dichotomy between the two groups. The "two groups" are one huge, overlapping Venn diagram of suffering and compassion, healing and outreach, ongoing pain and God's love and redemption.
One of yesterday's posts is fascinating. It's about the dynamic at work among (or tension between) post-abortive women and the pro-life movement in general. As Emily observes:
My first reaction to this was that this suggests that compared to post- abortive women, the rest of the pro-life movement is composed of people who are paragons of emotional, mental and relational health. In my five years of involvement with the pro-life movement, I have not found that there is a noticeable difference in the day-to-day operational effectiveness of those who are PA versus those who are not.
And, the thing that comes to my mind is that the "pro-life movement in general" is full of post-abortive women, though most are silent, thus creating a false dichotomy between the two groups. The "two groups" are one huge, overlapping Venn diagram of suffering and compassion, healing and outreach, ongoing pain and God's love and redemption.
Morning talk with Ramona
Ramona (whispering): Mommy! I slept all through the night.
Me: (whispering back): Well, sort of. You got up twice.
Ramona (looking enthusiastic): Yes!
Me: Let's go get some coffee.
Ramona: No, thanks. I don't want coffee.
The joys of empty boxes
Amy's latest haiku rings true. Who hasn't thought of simply wrapping up an empty box as a gift for one's children?
Other ideas:
Their own rolls of Scotch tape
Their own boxes of Kleenex to gleefully empty
Other ideas:
Their own rolls of Scotch tape
Their own boxes of Kleenex to gleefully empty
Heartbreak and Healing
Genevieve's Feminine Genius is full of stories and commentary you may not find elsewhere. I love to check in with her.
Here's an entry about a woman who has done pro-life work for years, and just recently told her parents about the abortion she had back in 1977. The full article that Genevieve references is found here.
Here's an entry about a woman who has done pro-life work for years, and just recently told her parents about the abortion she had back in 1977. The full article that Genevieve references is found here.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Nothing and Everything
To the untrained (or skeptical) eye, it just might look as if we're doing nothing this week.
You see, some dear friends (fellow homeschoolers) are moving. They'll be pulling out of their driveway for the last time on Friday and will head for their new home, hundreds of miles away. (I'm trying not to think about this, but there it is.) I want to do all I can to help them out before they go.
So, what are we doing this week?
Today we had their kids over here. While I baked cookies, the older girls put together an original play that they then performed for me. The little ones, Ramona and M., spent three hours planning their performance, which included quite a bit of dancing, twirling and leaping as well as heaps of dress-up clothes. The older girls did yet another play, in which they took turns playing the part of Marta, who dies (I actually teared up ... have you ever watched your daughter pretend to die?)
The kids also played with paper dolls, read several Baby Blues comic strips online, snacked on chicken and pretzels, had stromboli with the rest of us at dinner (what fun to have 10 people around our table) and then went back to putting on plays.
And so will go our week. We'll spend as much time as we can with these cherished, delightful people before they go, and there probably won't be much that would be recognized as educational by anyone looking for a syllabus, an objective, a predicted outcome or a gradebook. I may end up behind on laundry or my house might be a disaster. But, there will also be this: the sure knowledge that I'm teaching my children that people are more important than things. And that the people we love are not to be taken lightly or taken for granted. I'm teaching my children that we're never too busy to reach out, make dinner, watch other people's kids, bake cookies, feed five-year-olds, or watch the third and final version of a 9-year-old's original play.
I'm teaching them that an education is one of the most important things in life ... it's just that what we call "education" encompasses all of the above. It encompasses our real life, our loves, our passions, and our plays.
We did nothing today. And we did everything.
You see, some dear friends (fellow homeschoolers) are moving. They'll be pulling out of their driveway for the last time on Friday and will head for their new home, hundreds of miles away. (I'm trying not to think about this, but there it is.) I want to do all I can to help them out before they go.
So, what are we doing this week?
Today we had their kids over here. While I baked cookies, the older girls put together an original play that they then performed for me. The little ones, Ramona and M., spent three hours planning their performance, which included quite a bit of dancing, twirling and leaping as well as heaps of dress-up clothes. The older girls did yet another play, in which they took turns playing the part of Marta, who dies (I actually teared up ... have you ever watched your daughter pretend to die?)
The kids also played with paper dolls, read several Baby Blues comic strips online, snacked on chicken and pretzels, had stromboli with the rest of us at dinner (what fun to have 10 people around our table) and then went back to putting on plays.
And so will go our week. We'll spend as much time as we can with these cherished, delightful people before they go, and there probably won't be much that would be recognized as educational by anyone looking for a syllabus, an objective, a predicted outcome or a gradebook. I may end up behind on laundry or my house might be a disaster. But, there will also be this: the sure knowledge that I'm teaching my children that people are more important than things. And that the people we love are not to be taken lightly or taken for granted. I'm teaching my children that we're never too busy to reach out, make dinner, watch other people's kids, bake cookies, feed five-year-olds, or watch the third and final version of a 9-year-old's original play.
I'm teaching them that an education is one of the most important things in life ... it's just that what we call "education" encompasses all of the above. It encompasses our real life, our loves, our passions, and our plays.
We did nothing today. And we did everything.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Playing Penderwicks
Thanks (once again) to a Bonny Glen recommendation, we just started reading The Penderwicks, by Jeanne Birdsall. Melissa's description of the book sounded like our cup of tea so I picked it up from the library. We started it two days ago, and so far we have:
~ laughed out loud (especially over the finding of the map and the method of baking cookies)
~ giggled about how cute Batty is, and how much she reminds us of Ramona
~ made other comparisons to our own world of sisterly relations
~ observed that we really love books about sisters, their quirks, quibbles and affections, with Little Women coming immediately to mind
And I have overheard this roughly five times in the last 24 hours:
"Let's play Penderwicks!"
Spaghetti Pie for Cajun Cay
Here's the recipe, if you can call it (my ambiguous quantities, which allow for individual taste, and throwing a few prepackaged things together) a recipe:
Spaghetti Pie
16 oz. of spaghetti, cooked/drained
1-2 lbs. hamburger, browned and seasoned to your liking
1 or 2 jars spaghetti sauce (or your own sauce, if you're a real cook, which I'm not)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup parmesan cheese
8 oz. mozzarella cheese
Toss spaghetti with eggs and parmesan cheese. Spray a 9x13 pan and press spaghetti mixture in to form the "crust." Combine hamburger and sauce and pour on top of spaghetti. Sprinkle mozzarella on top and bake for 30 min. in a 350 degree oven.
Sit back, eat and receive accolades on a delicious dish and a job well-done. Mention to no one how easy it was.
(p.s. This is also scrumptious with alfredo sauce and chicken, though my children would argue that point.)
Spaghetti Pie
16 oz. of spaghetti, cooked/drained
1-2 lbs. hamburger, browned and seasoned to your liking
1 or 2 jars spaghetti sauce (or your own sauce, if you're a real cook, which I'm not)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup parmesan cheese
8 oz. mozzarella cheese
Toss spaghetti with eggs and parmesan cheese. Spray a 9x13 pan and press spaghetti mixture in to form the "crust." Combine hamburger and sauce and pour on top of spaghetti. Sprinkle mozzarella on top and bake for 30 min. in a 350 degree oven.
Sit back, eat and receive accolades on a delicious dish and a job well-done. Mention to no one how easy it was.
(p.s. This is also scrumptious with alfredo sauce and chicken, though my children would argue that point.)
It's sacred not secular
Yesterday I mentioned this link at Ignatius Insight and talked about the reading material of Peter Kreeft and others. I neglected to mention something I saw there that delighted me: Kreeft singled out Steve Kellmeyer's book, Sex and the Sacred City as one of the best things he read in 2005 and he enthusiastically recommends it (okay, so they mangled the title, but they got Steve's last name right.)
Since Steve and his family moved away, it's certainly been harder to keep in touch, but he remains a pal, and I'm thrilled to see his Bridegroom Press doing so incredibly well. (For those of you who have read my conversion story, he's the Steve I mention as being one of the right friends sent by God at the right time for Atticus's conversion.)
Non-sequitur: Time to go make pancakes.
Since Steve and his family moved away, it's certainly been harder to keep in touch, but he remains a pal, and I'm thrilled to see his Bridegroom Press doing so incredibly well. (For those of you who have read my conversion story, he's the Steve I mention as being one of the right friends sent by God at the right time for Atticus's conversion.)
Non-sequitur: Time to go make pancakes.
Ramona today
Blog-worthy quotes:
"I'm all sillied out."
"Babies cute me out."
(I detect a theme.)
and, after nursing: "I'm saving some milk for later."
"I'm all sillied out."
"Babies cute me out."
(I detect a theme.)
and, after nursing: "I'm saving some milk for later."
Saturday, January 14, 2006
I can't keep up with these guys
Of course, as a homeschooling mom, I shouldn't set unrealistic expectations for my reading. I know no one expects me to match, book for book, Dale Ahlquist, Mark Brumley, Fr. Fessio, Thomas Howard, Peter Kreeft, Sandra Miesel, Michael O'Brien, Carl Olson, Joseph Pierce and Edward Peters. Still, I can't help but drool over some of the reading on their lists.
Check out this link at Ignatius Insight to see what these folks read in 2005.
My reading list was a bit more humble. In the last year, here's some of what I managed to read:
A Cry of Stone by Michael O'Brien
Sophia House by Michael O'Brien
Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen
Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean-Pierre de Caussade
Homeschooling with Gentleness by Suzie Andres
Homeschooling Our Children, Unschooling Ourselves by Alison McKee
A Mother's Rule of Life by Holly Pierlot
Seasons of a Mother's Heart by Sally Clarkson
Ministry of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson
Why Women Need Chocolate by Debra Waterhouse
Harry Potter books 3-6 by J.K. Rowling
Teacher Man, by Frank McCourt
and, of course, read-alouds to the kids. Lots of read-alouds to the kids.
Current reads: I'm rereading, after a number of years, both Sheldon Vanauken's A Severe Mercy and C.S. Lewis's Out of the Silent Planet.
Now, to set reading goals for 2006; haven't done that yet. I'll get back to you.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Today's Adventures
Piano practice
Folding origami swans
Friends over to play
Gym time with other homeschoolers
Piano lessons
Leftover spaghetti pie for dinner
Today's Ramona quote
"Ooooh ... it's fwustwating to be the littlest one."
(Off to help with the un-fwustwation pwocess.)
(Off to help with the un-fwustwation pwocess.)
Thursday, January 12, 2006
The price of being stubborn
I have three living children, and a number of babies in heaven. Despite my miscarriage problems, about which I could have done nothing, I have sometimes wondered how delightfully large our family would be if I had not been so stubborn in my youth and young adulthood.
No, wait ... an amendment. In my youth, I was ignorant. When I gained some knowledge, I became stubborn.
The ignorance came from a childhood that was without religion, other than the cultural trappings of Christmas and Easter and a generic mealtime prayer. But, as I grew up and began to ask questions about religion, the stubbornness crept in.
No, I will not be submissive.
No, I will not buy into Christian myths.
No, I will not enter the Catholic Church, which is patriarchal and oppressive.
Sigh. (Why hasn't someone invented an icon for sighing? I'll pay for one.)
My stubbornness kept me away from Christianity for a long time, and then away from the Catholic Church for an equally long time. What if I'd been more open? What if I'd let my guard down, and just tiptoed in that much sooner? What if I'd been open to children before the age of 30? (I talked a little about this in the "I'm so predictable" post.) While it's true that I probably would still have had miscarriages, who's to say what else would have happened in my 20's?
Two thoughts, and two previous writings, come to mind. One is that we can never judge a good Catholic family by the number of children. I'm not saying here that God punished me for my stubbornness. But, I am saying that there's a consequence, for good or for ill, for all of our actions and choices. One consequence of my early stubbornness is that my family is smaller than it might have been. That's a simple fact.
Which brings me to the second thought. Saying, "What if?" is not only not very helpful, it's often counter-productive. What I'm saying here is not that I'm wallowing in the "what-ifs" of my life. They do cross my mind, yes. But I'm not despairing. I'm simply recognizing that choices have consequences. I have paid a price for my stubbornness, and the blessing is that it makes me examine my current life choices all the more carefully. It forces me to think, pray, and act, rather than presume that "there will always be time."
For me, the time to homeschool is now. The time to be the best mother I can be is now. The time to pursue the closest relationship I can possibly have with God is now. The time to write is now.
I'm done with being stubborn. I've found freedom in submission to God, and it's a freedom I could not have believed, imagined or described when I was bound by my stubborn ways. But, describing the paradox of "freedom in submission to God" is another post, and I'm out of time for today. I may stubbornly want to stay here writing and reading, but God, Anne, Betsy and Ramona have other plans.
No, wait ... an amendment. In my youth, I was ignorant. When I gained some knowledge, I became stubborn.
The ignorance came from a childhood that was without religion, other than the cultural trappings of Christmas and Easter and a generic mealtime prayer. But, as I grew up and began to ask questions about religion, the stubbornness crept in.
No, I will not be submissive.
No, I will not buy into Christian myths.
No, I will not enter the Catholic Church, which is patriarchal and oppressive.
Sigh. (Why hasn't someone invented an icon for sighing? I'll pay for one.)
My stubbornness kept me away from Christianity for a long time, and then away from the Catholic Church for an equally long time. What if I'd been more open? What if I'd let my guard down, and just tiptoed in that much sooner? What if I'd been open to children before the age of 30? (I talked a little about this in the "I'm so predictable" post.) While it's true that I probably would still have had miscarriages, who's to say what else would have happened in my 20's?
Two thoughts, and two previous writings, come to mind. One is that we can never judge a good Catholic family by the number of children. I'm not saying here that God punished me for my stubbornness. But, I am saying that there's a consequence, for good or for ill, for all of our actions and choices. One consequence of my early stubbornness is that my family is smaller than it might have been. That's a simple fact.
Which brings me to the second thought. Saying, "What if?" is not only not very helpful, it's often counter-productive. What I'm saying here is not that I'm wallowing in the "what-ifs" of my life. They do cross my mind, yes. But I'm not despairing. I'm simply recognizing that choices have consequences. I have paid a price for my stubbornness, and the blessing is that it makes me examine my current life choices all the more carefully. It forces me to think, pray, and act, rather than presume that "there will always be time."
For me, the time to homeschool is now. The time to be the best mother I can be is now. The time to pursue the closest relationship I can possibly have with God is now. The time to write is now.
I'm done with being stubborn. I've found freedom in submission to God, and it's a freedom I could not have believed, imagined or described when I was bound by my stubborn ways. But, describing the paradox of "freedom in submission to God" is another post, and I'm out of time for today. I may stubbornly want to stay here writing and reading, but God, Anne, Betsy and Ramona have other plans.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Today's Ramona quote
"Mommy, you'd be very sad without my fwiendship."
~~ Ramona, age 3
(Does she know she's providing me with material on a daily basis?)
~~ Ramona, age 3
(Does she know she's providing me with material on a daily basis?)
Yesterday's Word of the Day was Yesterday
We're not currently immersed in a foreign language (unless you count teaching the cat to read Latin.) Although last year I was blessed with an amazing Spanish teacher for the kids, alas, this year she is moving away.
Currently, "language light" is part of our homeschool. Travlang is a travel and language resource website, and they have a really fun mailing list. You can receive an email with the word of the day in up to 80 different languages.
Here's yesterday's word, "yesterday" in the 11 languages we receive:
Arabic: Amis
French: Hier
German: gestern
Greek: Hte's
Italian: Ieri
Japanese: Kinou
Latin: Heri
Mandarin: zúo tian-.
Romanian: Ieri
Spanish: ayer
Swedish: igår
The emails include audio links to click on (for most words) so that you can hear the proper pronunciation.
Have fun!
Monday, January 09, 2006
Happy to see you come, happy to see you go
As Melissa Wiley noted in a lovely post yesterday, we're now living in Ordinary Time. (I, too, had meant to post on this change in the rhythms of life but I ran out of time after tinkering with template colors while Melissa had priorities in the right place.) So, I'll try to sneak a post in here before Ramona wakes up.
Ordinary Time. It sounds so ... well, ordinary. Yet what's extraordinary about it is the way in which it shapes my life. Following the liturgical calendar -- its seasons and its highs and lows -- really sharpens my spiritual life. It keeps me observant, on the lookout for what's coming next. "Ordinary Time" lets me coast, so to speak, to revel in the (okay, yes, I'll overuse the word) ordinary pleasures of our everyday life. We aren't preparing for a feast, or abstaining from anything in particular (unless you count breaking that Christmas vacation habit of chocolate kisses for breakfast.) We're just living day to day, ambling along, catching up on things neglected, falling behind when something irresistable captures our fancy.
These ordinary days will go on until Lent, when it will be time for me to turn inward a bit more, to reflect more deeply on the shape of my prayer life, and to prepare our family for the great, approaching feast of Easter. It will be time, once again, to teach the children, in a deeper way, about sacrifice, repentance, resurrection and joy.
I welcome Ordinary Time. After the preparations of Advent and the celebrations of Christmas, I'm ready to settle back into the ordinary. It's not that I don't love Advent and Christmas ... I do ... I'm not one who complains that the holidays are too hectic, too exhausting, too everything. I welcome Advent with joy, rejoice in Christmas pleasures and celebrate full-force through the feast of the Epiphany. But then, when the season is over, it's as if a wise mom has said, "Okay, that's enough now. Time to put these things away and settle down." Mom knows we can't celebrate all day, every day.
With the same sincere joy that I welcomed Christmas, I welcome its passing. It's time to move on.
It's just like my dear friend Jack's grandfather used to say to the family at the end of a visit: "Happy to see you come, happy to see you go."
That's the insightfully practical and oh-so-true wisdom of age, and of the Church.
Ordinary Time. It sounds so ... well, ordinary. Yet what's extraordinary about it is the way in which it shapes my life. Following the liturgical calendar -- its seasons and its highs and lows -- really sharpens my spiritual life. It keeps me observant, on the lookout for what's coming next. "Ordinary Time" lets me coast, so to speak, to revel in the (okay, yes, I'll overuse the word) ordinary pleasures of our everyday life. We aren't preparing for a feast, or abstaining from anything in particular (unless you count breaking that Christmas vacation habit of chocolate kisses for breakfast.) We're just living day to day, ambling along, catching up on things neglected, falling behind when something irresistable captures our fancy.
These ordinary days will go on until Lent, when it will be time for me to turn inward a bit more, to reflect more deeply on the shape of my prayer life, and to prepare our family for the great, approaching feast of Easter. It will be time, once again, to teach the children, in a deeper way, about sacrifice, repentance, resurrection and joy.
I welcome Ordinary Time. After the preparations of Advent and the celebrations of Christmas, I'm ready to settle back into the ordinary. It's not that I don't love Advent and Christmas ... I do ... I'm not one who complains that the holidays are too hectic, too exhausting, too everything. I welcome Advent with joy, rejoice in Christmas pleasures and celebrate full-force through the feast of the Epiphany. But then, when the season is over, it's as if a wise mom has said, "Okay, that's enough now. Time to put these things away and settle down." Mom knows we can't celebrate all day, every day.
With the same sincere joy that I welcomed Christmas, I welcome its passing. It's time to move on.
It's just like my dear friend Jack's grandfather used to say to the family at the end of a visit: "Happy to see you come, happy to see you go."
That's the insightfully practical and oh-so-true wisdom of age, and of the Church.
It was a day for stifling laughs
While I was making dinner, Anne, Betsy and Ramona gathered up the Mark Kistler art book and English from the Roots Up and headed downstairs.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"We're going to teach Mr. Putter (the cat) to either draw or read Latin."
I should have guessed that. Silly me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three-year-old Ramona, when presented with a turkey-and-noodle concoction at dinner, said, "Oh, great! Now what?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At bedtime, Ramona heard her sister's voice in the bathroom. She shouted, "That could be Anne! She's in danger!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"We're going to teach Mr. Putter (the cat) to either draw or read Latin."
I should have guessed that. Silly me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three-year-old Ramona, when presented with a turkey-and-noodle concoction at dinner, said, "Oh, great! Now what?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At bedtime, Ramona heard her sister's voice in the bathroom. She shouted, "That could be Anne! She's in danger!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another reason I married him
Because fun sisters-in-law came with the deal. This just in from A., the youngest sister in Atticus's family of 12 kids (and, no, he didn't grow up Catholic):
"I spent a good portion of my day completely decluttering and wiping down my kitchen--old shortening, molasses, 44 grains of red sugar, innumerable Rubbermaid items without lids--all gone! I also told the kids to put 5 items from their rooms into the garage sale pile. B. brought down two lunchsack puppets he made in school. When I asked him if he thought people would want to buy them he looked at me as if I were crazy. Who wouldn't want two beautiful, hand colored, brown paper sack puppets? It's all relative, apparently."
I laughed out loud. This is exactly something that B.'s cousins would do here at our house. Yes, the artwork is worthy of purchase, and no, Mom, please don't make me give away any real toys ....
"I spent a good portion of my day completely decluttering and wiping down my kitchen--old shortening, molasses, 44 grains of red sugar, innumerable Rubbermaid items without lids--all gone! I also told the kids to put 5 items from their rooms into the garage sale pile. B. brought down two lunchsack puppets he made in school. When I asked him if he thought people would want to buy them he looked at me as if I were crazy. Who wouldn't want two beautiful, hand colored, brown paper sack puppets? It's all relative, apparently."
I laughed out loud. This is exactly something that B.'s cousins would do here at our house. Yes, the artwork is worthy of purchase, and no, Mom, please don't make me give away any real toys ....
The Secret Life of Food
This book is loads of fun. From the Potato (and green bean) Flip-Flops that you see on the cover, to the Sushi Cupcakes (with coconut standing in for rice) you'll marvel at the ingredients for these recipes, which always include a lot of creativity and a dash of whimsy. (Warning: the Anatomy section may turn the stomachs of younger cooks, or moms.)
Sunday, January 08, 2006
A homeschooler's idea of a play date
We had friends over yesterday, and the girls were all crawling on the ground, immersed in imaginative play, when they suddenly came to a dead halt. The next thing I heard was, "Ooooh ... the Iron Age!"
A Street Through Time is just too tempting.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
C.S. Lewis wasn't talking about homeschooling ...
... but this quote sums up my feelings about instilling a love of learning, and about eschewing, whenever possible, external rewards as motivators:
"The proper rewards are not simply tacked on to the activity for which they are given, but are the activity itself in consummation."
~ C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
"The proper rewards are not simply tacked on to the activity for which they are given, but are the activity itself in consummation."
~ C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Friday, January 06, 2006
The Epiphany of the Lord
from today's Liturgy of the Hours, Morning Prayer:
Today the Bridegroom claims His bride, the Church, since Christ has washed her sins away in Jordan's waters; the Magi hasten with their gifts to the royal wedding; and the wedding guests rejoice, for Christ has changed water into wine, alleluia.
King's Bread
To celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord, we'll make a bread that I also make for St. Lucia Day. The recipe is from my dear friend, Holly, and it's one of the most delicious breads I've ever tasted.
Here's the recipe:
Aunt Holly's Braided Bread
Dough:
1 1/2 cups milk
2 (1/4 oz.) pkgs. active dry yeast
1/4 cup sugar, plus 1 T. sugar
6 T. butter, cut in pieces
2 large eggs
1/4 cup orange juice
1 T. finely grated orange rind
1 t. salt
5 1/2 - 6 1/2 cups flour
Glaze and garnish:
2 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar
2-4 T. orange juice
1/3 cup dried cranberries
Warm the milk in a small saucepan, then pour 1/2 cup of it into a large bowl. Add the yeast and 1 T. of the sugar and let it sit for 5 min.
Melt the butter in the remaining milk. Add butter/milk mixture to the yeast mixture. Whisk in the eggs, juice, 1/4 cup sugar, orange rind, and salt. Stir in the flour, 1 cup at a time, until the dough can be gathered into a ball. Knead the dough on a floured surface for 10 min., adding more flour until the dough is smooth and elastic and doesn't stick to your hands. Transfer the dough to an oiled bowl, turning it once to coat it. Loosely cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it rise until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours. Punch down the dough and divide it into 3 equal parts. Roll each part into a 30-inch rope and braid the ropes together. Transfer the braid to a greased baking sheet, pinch together the ends to form a circle and let it rise until doubled in size, about 45 min. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 min., or until golden brown, then let cool on a wire rack about 30 min.
For the glaze, stir together the confectioner's sugar and orange juice until smooth. Drizzle over the bread, then garnish with cranberries.
Delicious, beautiful, and fit for the King of kings.
For more fun ideas on celebrating Epiphany, see Catholic Culture here, here, and here. From those pages, you can find other links as well.
Also check out Domestic Church here to search their Epiphany links.
Here's the recipe:
Aunt Holly's Braided Bread
Dough:
1 1/2 cups milk
2 (1/4 oz.) pkgs. active dry yeast
1/4 cup sugar, plus 1 T. sugar
6 T. butter, cut in pieces
2 large eggs
1/4 cup orange juice
1 T. finely grated orange rind
1 t. salt
5 1/2 - 6 1/2 cups flour
Glaze and garnish:
2 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar
2-4 T. orange juice
1/3 cup dried cranberries
Warm the milk in a small saucepan, then pour 1/2 cup of it into a large bowl. Add the yeast and 1 T. of the sugar and let it sit for 5 min.
Melt the butter in the remaining milk. Add butter/milk mixture to the yeast mixture. Whisk in the eggs, juice, 1/4 cup sugar, orange rind, and salt. Stir in the flour, 1 cup at a time, until the dough can be gathered into a ball. Knead the dough on a floured surface for 10 min., adding more flour until the dough is smooth and elastic and doesn't stick to your hands. Transfer the dough to an oiled bowl, turning it once to coat it. Loosely cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it rise until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours. Punch down the dough and divide it into 3 equal parts. Roll each part into a 30-inch rope and braid the ropes together. Transfer the braid to a greased baking sheet, pinch together the ends to form a circle and let it rise until doubled in size, about 45 min. Bake at 375 degrees for 25 min., or until golden brown, then let cool on a wire rack about 30 min.
For the glaze, stir together the confectioner's sugar and orange juice until smooth. Drizzle over the bread, then garnish with cranberries.
Delicious, beautiful, and fit for the King of kings.
For more fun ideas on celebrating Epiphany, see Catholic Culture here, here, and here. From those pages, you can find other links as well.
Also check out Domestic Church here to search their Epiphany links.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Why I pray in the shower
It started when Betsy was a baby and I thought I'd never have solitary prayer time again. But, the practice has continued through the years and it has served me well.
Of course, when she was a baby, I didn't always get showers that were regular or solitary, but, I did aim for them, and when it happened, a hot shower turned out to be a wonderful place to pray. It still is.
I start with a daily offering. Then, I pray for my children: that they will come to know God, love Him, and serve Him, and that He will provide holy spouses for them. (I used to draw this particular prayer out ... "If you call them to religious life, Lord, may they be open to the call ... if you call them to marriage, may their future spouse be a man of faith ...." Then, my friend Teresa told me that she always prays for "a holy spouse" for her children. That really covers all the bases, including praying for the sanctification of the Church Militant, so I adopted her perfect phrasing.)
Next, I pray for conversions (my own ongoing and those of others) and for specific intentions of friends and family. I finish by asking for the intercession of many saints, including all the patron saints of our family, and our little saints in heaven, the babies we have lost. I call on each of them by name and ask them to pray for their mommy.
By this time, I'm in danger of running out of hot water, so I regretfully end the shower and it's on to a cup of coffee.
I can't think of a better way to start a day.
Of course, when she was a baby, I didn't always get showers that were regular or solitary, but, I did aim for them, and when it happened, a hot shower turned out to be a wonderful place to pray. It still is.
I start with a daily offering. Then, I pray for my children: that they will come to know God, love Him, and serve Him, and that He will provide holy spouses for them. (I used to draw this particular prayer out ... "If you call them to religious life, Lord, may they be open to the call ... if you call them to marriage, may their future spouse be a man of faith ...." Then, my friend Teresa told me that she always prays for "a holy spouse" for her children. That really covers all the bases, including praying for the sanctification of the Church Militant, so I adopted her perfect phrasing.)
Next, I pray for conversions (my own ongoing and those of others) and for specific intentions of friends and family. I finish by asking for the intercession of many saints, including all the patron saints of our family, and our little saints in heaven, the babies we have lost. I call on each of them by name and ask them to pray for their mommy.
By this time, I'm in danger of running out of hot water, so I regretfully end the shower and it's on to a cup of coffee.
I can't think of a better way to start a day.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Betsy's snack time reading ....
There may be a few pictures that would be off-putting while one is eating, but Betsy doesn't seem to notice. She loves this National Geographic Animal Encyclopedia.
Anne's latest favorite thing to read while having a snack
A City Through Time is one of those big DK books, packed with fun info. We also like A Street Through Time.
There are advantages and disadvantages...
... to having older sisters influence a 3-year-old's vocabulary.
At dinner last night, Ramona asked for dessert. I said, "But you haven't eaten your dinner yet."
She looked down at her plate. She'd taken several bites of bread and had eaten a carrot stick.
"Technically," she said, "I have eaten some of my dinner."
At dinner last night, Ramona asked for dessert. I said, "But you haven't eaten your dinner yet."
She looked down at her plate. She'd taken several bites of bread and had eaten a carrot stick.
"Technically," she said, "I have eaten some of my dinner."
I think we're turning Japanese
This isn't the calligraphy set that Anne received for Christmas, but it looks like a nicely authentic one.
And here's a page that talks about some of the things Anne has been learning about shodo.
One thing I love about our relaxed homeschool is that we make time for the kids to follow their passions. As a result, I've learned from my daughter that there is more than one kind of shodo -- she can tell me about differences between and among hiragana, katakana, kanji ... none of which I knew before she educated me on the subject. As a result of her interest in the calligraphy, she's learned to recognize a few Japanese words, which seems totally beyond this English-speaking-only mom (well, I can manage a few phrases in French, such as "What time is it? ... My name is Karen ... I am happy ... Where is the bathroom?")
This page has an idea Anne would love. Though we couldn't afford these custom-made pieces of calligraphy, I wonder if I could pen the girls' names myself and frame them? It wouldn't be as authentic, and I may make a mistake ... hopefully my version wouldn't translate into, "Where is the bathroom?" but then, there won't be a test.
And here's a page that talks about some of the things Anne has been learning about shodo.
One thing I love about our relaxed homeschool is that we make time for the kids to follow their passions. As a result, I've learned from my daughter that there is more than one kind of shodo -- she can tell me about differences between and among hiragana, katakana, kanji ... none of which I knew before she educated me on the subject. As a result of her interest in the calligraphy, she's learned to recognize a few Japanese words, which seems totally beyond this English-speaking-only mom (well, I can manage a few phrases in French, such as "What time is it? ... My name is Karen ... I am happy ... Where is the bathroom?")
This page has an idea Anne would love. Though we couldn't afford these custom-made pieces of calligraphy, I wonder if I could pen the girls' names myself and frame them? It wouldn't be as authentic, and I may make a mistake ... hopefully my version wouldn't translate into, "Where is the bathroom?" but then, there won't be a test.
Anne-with-an-e will love this
Given that she loves all things that relate to, have anything to do with, make her think of, or even remotely resemble Helen Keller, Anne will love this: Google is in braille today.
Another great idea from Amy
At Amy's "A Call to Adventure", she shares the cool idea (with credit given to "A Catholic Life") of choosing ( or of letting Providence choose for you) a new patron saint every year. I love this idea, and will be doing it with our family. Thanks, Amy!
5-7-5
Check out this immensely creative idea ... Amy at "Haiku of a Homeschooler" has composed a blog entirely of haiku entries. I love haiku, and Amy has inspired me to tackle a few of my own. Given Anne-with-an-e's current penchant for all things Japanese, I'm betting she'll join me in the challenge.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Food, glorious food
Thanks to Maureen, my handy-dandy Thrifty Homeschooler resource, I'm excited about this website (excitement comes cheap at this house):
Meals for You is a recipe and menu planning site, and since I've vowed to cook healthier, more nutritious meals this year (it's more than a resolution, you know, it's a vow, so I must stick to it) I'm thrilled about this site. It looks better than others I've tried (I subscribed to one awhile back but never followed a single menu that was suggested. I'm afraid "green beans" just came up too often -- the canned ones. No, no, no ....) Here, you can search for recipes by various categories: nutrition, quick and easy, food allergies, etc. And the recipes look yummy.
Now, I have only to convince my kids that yummy = good, nutritious meals rather than cereal for supper.
More from St. Augustine
from today's Office of Readings, from St. Augustine, on St. John:
You are told “Love God”. If you say to me “Show me whom I should love”, what can I say except what John says? No man has ever seen God. But you must not think yourself wholly unsuited to seeing God: God is love, says John, and whoever dwells in love dwells in God. So love whoever is nearest to you and look inside you to see where that love is coming from: thus, as far as you are capable, you will see God.
So start to love your neighbout. Share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless pauper into your house. Clothe the naked, and do not despise the servants of your kin.
What will you get from doing all this? Your light will break forth like the dawn. Your light is your God, your dawn, because he will come to you to end the night of this world — he who , himself, neither rises nor sets but is eternal.
By loving your neighbour, by having care for your neighbour, you are travelling on a journey. Where are you journeying, except to the Lord God, whom we must love with all our heart and all our soul and all our mind? We have not yet reached the Lord, but our neighbour is with us already. So support your neighbour, who is travelling with you, so that you may reach him with whom you long to dwell.
You are told “Love God”. If you say to me “Show me whom I should love”, what can I say except what John says? No man has ever seen God. But you must not think yourself wholly unsuited to seeing God: God is love, says John, and whoever dwells in love dwells in God. So love whoever is nearest to you and look inside you to see where that love is coming from: thus, as far as you are capable, you will see God.
So start to love your neighbout. Share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless pauper into your house. Clothe the naked, and do not despise the servants of your kin.
What will you get from doing all this? Your light will break forth like the dawn. Your light is your God, your dawn, because he will come to you to end the night of this world — he who , himself, neither rises nor sets but is eternal.
By loving your neighbour, by having care for your neighbour, you are travelling on a journey. Where are you journeying, except to the Lord God, whom we must love with all our heart and all our soul and all our mind? We have not yet reached the Lord, but our neighbour is with us already. So support your neighbour, who is travelling with you, so that you may reach him with whom you long to dwell.
Monday, January 02, 2006
A real life fairy tale
We rented Cinderella Man last night. I didn't know anything about James Braddock before last night, but now I know, as much as movies can be relied on to tell true stories, that he was an admirable, amazing man whose every action seemed to spring from love for his wife and children (that's about all it takes to win me over.) Roger Ebert's review sums it all up rather nicely.
One thing Ebert doesn't mention is how utterly delightful it was to see that the Braddock family's Catholicism, while not explored in any depth, is at least portrayed as real and true, and not something worthy of ridicule. When Braddock heads out for the final showdown, his wife heads to church to pray. I won't say any more, because I don't want to ruin the moment, but it's a nice moment.
When my girls are a little older, and can handle the violence of the fight scenes, this is definitely one I'll let them see.
One thing Ebert doesn't mention is how utterly delightful it was to see that the Braddock family's Catholicism, while not explored in any depth, is at least portrayed as real and true, and not something worthy of ridicule. When Braddock heads out for the final showdown, his wife heads to church to pray. I won't say any more, because I don't want to ruin the moment, but it's a nice moment.
When my girls are a little older, and can handle the violence of the fight scenes, this is definitely one I'll let them see.
A sobering list
26 people -- priests, nuns, religious and lay -- were killed in 2005 for the faith. A listing of their names and the circumstances of their deaths can be found here.
May we ask the intercession of these martyrs, that we, too, can live wholly and completely for God.
May we ask the intercession of these martyrs, that we, too, can live wholly and completely for God.
Note to self
Never again have tea with caffeine, delicious though it was, at 6:30 p.m., then nurse child at bed time while smugly thinking, "I'm so glad she finally sleeps through the night."
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Celebrating Mary, Mother of God
I dislike comparing myself to Mary, because it's akin to holding my Sculpey creations next to Michelangelo's Pieta and asking what kind of artist I am. The differences are glaring, apparent, painful to see and ultimately laughable. But, I do it anyway, because it's good spiritual exercise.
Mary was a wife and mother, as am I. Mary cooked meals, cleaned house, and did laundry, as do I. There the comparisons end.
I imagine home life with Mary and I envision peacefulness, a serene atmosphere pervading all, because she knew that the mundane tasks of each moment were a necessary part of the whole. The meal of the day, the washing, the tidying and the clean-up of dishes ... everything had import and was approached as such. She simply did it because that is part of what the mother of Jesus needed to do.
This year, I will strive to be more Mary-like in my household tasks, approaching them with greater serenity and acceptance, knowing that all things have import and that my duties as a mother and a keeper of our home are a necessary part of the whole.
I imagine affection, warmth and laughter in the home of Mary, Joseph and Jesus. (I loved the scene in The Passion of the Christ in which Mary and Jesus are joking and laughing together about tables and chairs.)
This year, I'll thank God for all the laughter in our home, knowing He is the author of such joy, and I'll strive to find and hold on to the humor in those inevitable homeschooling days that crop up (you know ... the ones that will not, at first glance, seem to hold any humor.)
Mary's faith was bare and heroic, as Romano Guardini writes in this amazing article, reprinted at Godspy. Again and again, she had to endure pain and separation and yet her faith did not, could not, waver.
This year, in my life and walk with God, when I feel distance from Him, though I can't resolve to have such faith (as only God can grant it) I can resolve to pray for it, to ask to be more like Mary in my faith.
I doubt that Mary would have blogged ... she would have pondered my mostly pitiable musings in her heart, rather than blabbing them to the world. She pondered, she prayed, she listened.
This year, though I'm not sure I can resolve not to blog (or blab, as it were) since I'm still in the throes of infatuation with this stuff, I can resolve to continue pondering things in my heart, and ask the Lord to make the answers to my ponderings clearer to me. If God however, asked me to quit blogging, I would. He'd have to be very loud and clear about it, though.
Like Mary, I pray I'll be listening.
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