Thank you ... I think

Recently, I watched a silly show with my daughters. The mom in the show was coiffed, made up, and dressed in simple but fashionable clothing. Anne-with-an-e said, "This is so unrealistic. In real life, no mom could actually look that good every day."

I smiled, inwardly feeling quite smug that all of my "TV training" is paying off. That is, ever since my children began watching television, I began countering its messages. I say things such as, "That is so unrealistic. In real life, no mermaid would disobey her father so completely and then still have everything turn out for the best in the end."

So, I was pleased by this proof that Anne has internalized my messages and does not expect real life to look like TV.

But then, I did a double-take. Atticus and I looked at each other. He was suppressing a smile. Wait a minute ... the mom on the show wasn't that well-dressed. She looked like ... well, like me, on days when I'm going to leave the house and be seen by the world at large. In other words, she was clean, neat and had on a pair of khakis. I cast a furtive glance at the sweatpants that'd been my fashion pick for the day. Hmmm .... I made a mental note to sometimes don the khakis when we're staying home for the day.

Not, mind you, that I'm giving in to pressure from the media. And I am not trying to live up to the unrealistic standards of television beauty. I'm just trying to ... ummm, well ....

Okay, I'll admit it. While I was delighted that my daughter granted me permission to be comfortable and normal, I felt like a slob. Then I felt like a fake ("Don't you want her to know that real life is not like TV?") then I felt like laughing with Atticus, which I did (and he is, of course, the kind of husband who acts as if I'm beautiful no matter what I'm wearing and no matter what my hair is doing.)

And you'll never guess what I'm wearing right now. But, later today, since we will be venturing out, I'll look like a TV mom. Until we get home.

Another note on Lent

Do you have a crown of thorns?

When I was received into the Catholic Church eleven years ago, my friend Jack gave me an incredible gift: a crown of thorns. Not a miniature replica, nor a harmless likeness, but a real, sharp, terrible, beautiful crown of thorns that would draw blood if I were to don the thing.

Every year, during Lent, it is displayed in a prominent place in our home. It does wonders for my tiny Lenten sacrifices. It keeps them in their place and aids in my perspective. It keeps me close in thought to the God, the Man, who gave everything for me, the One who continues to love me no matter how weak I am, or how petty or selfish. No matter what I do, no matter how much I may stray or grow lukewarm, He is there. He is faithful. He is waiting for the one He loves to return. That's what Lent is for me ... a rekindling of the greatest love affair of my life.

Lent at our house

With Ash Wednesday just two days away, I thought it time to post some of the things we like to do to make this liturgical season more meaningful.

Lenten Caterpillar/Easter Butterfly
(idea from my friend H.)

Cut out 1/4 of a cardboard egg carton and have the children paint it for the caterpillar's body. Glue on "googly eyes" and use pipe cleaners for antennae and legs. Display the caterpillars throughout Lent. When Holy Week arrives, wrap your caterpillars in paper or coffee filters (their cocoons.) On Holy Saturday night (after kids are in bed) tear open the cocoon and replace it with a butterfly. The butterfly will depend on the artistic skills -- or lack thereof -- of Mom and Dad. Our butterflies have ranged from drawings, to origami to a picture downloaded from the internet (that was a hectic year) to fun foam and sequins. Spiritualize the symbolism with a note proclaiming, “Jesus gives us New Life! Alleluia!”


Lamb of God Calendar

On poster board, draw a large picture of a lamb. I have used, as a model, the clip art I found here. Divide the body into squares to make a calendar, covering the entire period of Lent. Each day, have your children glue a cottonball (or a few, depending on how big the squares and how eager the little hands) on that day’s space. This is a great way for little ones to count down to the great feast of Easter and it gives them a concrete picture of the length of the season of waiting.


Holy Family Meal
(this idea came from an article by Maryann Davis Cochran, which I read years ago)
Show your kids how Jesus and His family would have eaten. Sit on the floor (only wealthy people had chairs...) and serve 1st century fare. Fill pita bread with your choice of salad greens, onions, garlic, parsley, cucumbers, cheese and fish (I have substituted tuna for smoked fish or sardines ... my kids aren't that culinarily adventuresome.) Remember -- they used plates, cups and knives, but not forks and spoons! For dessert, Jesus might have eaten a mixture of figs, dates or apricots, raisins, walnuts and honey. Eating this sticky mix with a knife or fingers will leave an impression on your kids. For the beverage, serve grape juice. Before and after the meal, read from the Old Testament, as the Holy Family would have (a good reading is the “Shema”, an ancient Jewish prayer from Deuteronomy 6:4-9).


(The following ideas have been collected from a variety of sources, and I'm not sure where credit properly belongs, as variations on these ideas are found in a number of places):

Sacrifice Jar

On Ash Wednesday, put out an empty jar and a bowl of kidney beans. For every sacrifice, prayer or penance performed, the children place a bean in the jar. On Easter morning, your children will find the beans have been replaced with jelly beans, M & Ms or other favorite candy, reminding them that the rewards of Heaven will be sweet.

Lenten Chain

Make a chain from purple construction paper. Each day of Lent, each family member writes (on a purple strip) an intention for the day: a prayer, sacrifice, or penance they intend to carry out. Every few days, glue or tape them together into a chain, and keep in a prominent place, reminding all of the spirit of Lent.


Jelly Bean Prayer:

RED is for the blood He gave.
GREEN is for the grass He made.
YELLOW is for the sun so bright.
ORANGE is for the edge of night.
BLACK is for the sins we made.
WHITE is for the grace He gave.
PURPLE is for His hour of sorrow.
PINK is for our new tomorrow.
A bag full of jelly beans, colorful and sweet, is a prayer, is a promise, is a special treat.

Various crafts can go along with this prayer. Jellybean bracelets, mini-baskets, jelly beans wrapped in cellophane and given to friends as gifts ....

Have You Ever Wondered Where the Easter Bunny Comes From?

This little booklet, subtitled, "a Children’s Tale of the Passion, as told by Radix" is a wonderful story that places the “Easter Bunny” at the Cross. Unfortunately, Radix no longer publishes this coloring book, but check out what else the Radix Guys have to offer.

A Sacrifice a Day

Sometimes, for very little people, the idea of giving something up for six weeks is quite daunting. An alternative is to do "a sacrifice a day." From a central source, let your child choose what she will give up each day. The central source could be a list of ideas, posted in the kitchen. Or, you could cut that list into strips, place them in a jar and let the child choose one at random each day.

Homemade Soft Pretzels

1 pkg. yeast
1 tsp. salt
4 c. flour
Coarse salt
1 1/2 c. warm water
1 tbsp. vinegar
1 beaten egg

Measure warm water into large (warm) mixing bowl. Sprinkle on yeast and stir until it looks soft. Add salt, sugar and flour. Mix/knead dough. Shape dough into standard or your own special pretzel shapes.

Grease cookie sheets and lay pretzels on them and brush with beaten egg. Sprinkle with coarse salt. Bake at 425 degrees for 12-15 minutes.

That's a beginning. And for other ideas, check out Domestic-Church.com, Catholic Culture , Fr. Victor Hoaglund's pages, and see EWTN for a history of Lent.

Breakfast with Ramona

Over cereal this morning, Ramona started talking to her bowl.

"Why do I keep calling you Rice Krispies?" she asked the cereal. "You're not Rice Krispies!"

I smiled and said, "Well, it doesn't really matter, Sweetie. You can call them whatever you like."

And Atticus reached over and tickled her and said some sort of cute Daddy-thing, at which point Ramona (eyes widening, hands gesturing with exasperation at our complete misunderstanding of the moment) said, "Guys, guys! I was talking to myself!"

At which point I decided to leave Ramona and herself alone to work out the dilemma. Atticus chose to introduce the term "rhetorical question" which I'm quite certain I'll be hearing again.

Lenten crowns

My friend, J., has so many inventive ideas for faith-related crafts for the kids. Next week at our homeschool group gathering, we'll do a project that she came up with: Lenten crowns.

We'll make salt dough crowns (a wreath shape) by braiding the salt dough and forming it into a circle. Into the dough we'll insert six candle holders, for each of the weeks of Lent. Throughout Lent, then, we'll light a candle each week, just as we do in Advent, to "count down" the days and add a special sense of anticipation to the coming of Easter. I'll either adopt J.'s readings to accompany the candle-lighting, or choose some of my own (gee ... better get on top of this. Lent starts in a few days. Yikes.)

When Easter arrives, the crown will be painted gold and decorated with flowers and other symbols of the Resurrection.

I love this idea. Thanks, J., for your imaginative and beautiful ideas!

Go away

No, not really. I'm not being rude, I'm just directing you to people who are more creative, enlightening and on top of things than I am today.

Go visit Ron and Andrea. Ron has a fun entry with a link to a personality/temperament test. I'm an INFJ ... I used to want to be an INFP, thinking that I'd rather "perceive" than "judge" but ... well, clearly I'm judging my results so the J is more accurate. According to one description I read, I'm in the same category as Mother Teresa and Fred MacMurray.

And, here's a post about homeschooling with a lovely list of twelve things he has learned over the years. Then, you can pop over to see Andrea's list here.

Visit The Bookworm's amazing Literary Tour.

I LOLd, ROTFLing and NIATTL (Nodded In Agreement Through The Laughter) at this comic at Dog Day Afternoons. (Lots of serious treasures there, too, but you can find those yourself.)

Leonie at Living Without School beautifully sums up why "exhortation" is sometimes the best choice. We, after all, sometimes know our kids better than they know themselves.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and deal with the ramifications of having fed my children sugary cereal for breakfast. (I dream of one day being the kind of mom who can say, "My children beg for the sugary stuff, but they know it's a pipe dream.")

The family that paints together

Before the new carpet arrives, we took advantage of the empty room and put a new coat of paint on it. I got lots of help. I mean, lots of help. Oh, yes, once in awhile I caught myself pursing my lips, Marmee-style, holding in a sharp response to childish antics, but most of the antics were sweet, fun, in-the-spirit-of-helpfulness and a joy to see. Witness:

* Ramona the Artist, blissfully painting smiley faces all over the wall (and, just for good measure, one big frown)

* Betsy, lovingly but firmly telling her, "Now, Sweetie, you realize this is the only time that you get to paint on walls like this" (then looking conspiratorially my way for affirmation that she is being The Responsible Big Sister)

* Anne-with-an-e observing that, "Boy, Mom, this painting stuff is kind of a workout!"

They had an amazing sixth sense when "CyberChase" was about to start that it seemed like the perfect time for a break. While they munched some popcorn and were subliminally drenched in math, I did some major work with the roller and we were finished before dinner time.

And now, they're invested in that room. They want it to stay clean and pretty because they put so much work into it.

Hey, this has all kinds of promising implications ... I'll get them started painting every room in the house.

Silent Lotus

Silent Lotus by Jeanne M. Lee is an enchanting little picture book. My girls recently read it and were moved by this tale of a 12th century Cambodian girl who, though born deaf, learns to communicate through signs and eventually becomes a dancer at the king's palace.

The story appeals on many levels -- we feel love for a sweet and beautiful little girl, affection for her devoted parents, sympathy for Lotus when the other children are cruel to her and empathy because we are all "handicapped" in one way or another.

This is a story that illustrates the lesson we learn at our house quite often: that what is a weakness in one area can become a strength in another.

When the basement is full of water

and the carpet has got to go, and everything is an enormous mess and inconvenience, and all you can think about is adding more to the credit card balance that you thought you were going to pay off, it's easy to start feeling a little sorry for yourself.

"Oh, why now? Why us?"

Well ... why not now? And why not us? Would I wish this on someone else? And, while I'm at it, how about if I incorporate a little perspective here?

Let's see. Some estimates tell us that as many as a billion people are suffering from hunger and malnutrition in the world today. Thousands of people die daily from hunger and hunger-related causes. Millions of children around the world will go to bed with aching bellies tonight, in shelter that is inadequate, in conditions that are less-than-sanitary. Many of them have only one parent. Or no parent.

What do I have? I have a home, most of which is dry. I have hot and cold running water inside that home, an enormous luxury that even in the 21st century, many human beings will never know. I not only have enough food in our pantry to make a meal tonight, I have chocolate to assuage a chronic (sinful?) craving. I have luxuries beyond compare.

Years ago, before I became a Christian, I read a book called The Upside Down Kingdom by Donald Kraybill. In it, he urges Christians to always look down the social and economic ladder, rather than up. That notion has always remained with me. "Looking up" leads to jealousy, envy, greed and unhappiness. Looking down reminds me that not only am I materially blessed beyond all deserving, but that I have a grave responsibility to share those material blessings with everyone down the ladder.

Our home is humble. By American standards, we are middle-class and not particularly well-off. We live on one teacher's income, with occasional bonuses from my freelancing (which never feel like bonuses, as there's always a bill due.) We do without many things by modern American standards. But I try to see our home, our life, our world by standards that are larger and harder to grasp than American ones. I try to see with the eyes of Heaven.

Jesus's kingdom values what the world does not. The Lord doesn't really care what kind of home I have, or what the carpet costs,or that my couch is twenty years old and rather threadbare, or that one of our vehicles has 220,000 miles on it. He cares about my perspective on those things. Am I ungrateful? Covetous? Or do I thank Him every day for that couch and that car, for central heating, for health insurance, for luxurious chocolate in the pantry and chicken in the freezer? Am I sharing any and all of it?


This week, some carpet retailer will try to sell me the most beautiful and plush floor covering I can possibly (or maybe not) afford. I'll tell him this is what I want: functional, durable, clean, and just pretty enough to make my little girls happy. And, even with such minimal requirements, I'll be remembering what an incredible luxury is that carpet, our vehicles, our credit card, and our home, which by the standards of much of the world, is luxurious indeed. And I will thank God for such small inconveniences as water in the basement, because they remind me of my riches, and help me not to take them for granted.

Instead of bemoaning the credit card balance, I should see where we can trim our budget and how much more money we could be giving away each month. I should, always, look down the ladder and never forget my brothers and sisters there ... the ones I can help to pull up, with the help and the love of Christ as my strength.

Ramona Moments

Having overheard my reminders (numerous times) to Daddy or her big sisters, Ramona took it upon herself to remind me of something the other night at dinner. I was telling a joke that included the word "dead" and Ramona pointed to her precocious little head and said, "Mommy ... impressionable ears?!"

~~~~~~~~~~

One would think that Ramona herself was not responsible for having stripped down to nearly nothing given the way in which she looked down, and with a shocked expression, exclaimed, "Good gravy! I'm not wearing anything!"

~~~~~~~~~~

Before finger painting:

"Mommy, do I have to wear mosque? Wait ... a sock? No, ummm ... a mask?"

"No, Sweetie, you don't need a smock. You're not wearing any clothes."

~~~~~~~~~~

Light blogging, heavy lifting

Blogging will be light as we spend time cleaning up the huge mess in our very-finished basement. We had a pipe break last night and there's a fair amount of water to deal with.

Need I say more?

Prayers for patience will be appreciated!

Isn't chocolate the fifth food group?

Last night while dinner was in the oven (do I have to confess that it was a frozen pizza? Atticus had a snow day off from school and we were shooting for "relaxed"), Ramona asked, "Can I have one of those little chocolates from my Valentine box?"

"No," I said, in my best imitation of a mother. "It's almost time for dinner."

But of course I was mentally debating whether frozen pizza was really healthier than a chocolate cream.

"Oh, pleeeeease," she begged in that irresistable way that only a three-year-old who's still in pajamas at 5 p.m. can.

"No," I said, standing my frozen pizza ground.

"Humph," she huffed, hands on hips. "Can I have anything that's unhealthy?"

Math with Anne ...

... in which We Discover How Our Weaknesses Become Our Strengths.

Anne-with-an-e had a math challenge this morning which involved writing the reciprocal of the number five before she could do anything else.

"Look, Mom," she said, with a smile on her face, "what do you think?"

She had written an upside down, backwards five.

I laughed and of course had to tell her that I find her delightfully creative. (I also told her to finish the challenge.) This is the same brain that looks at the fraction 5/1 and says, "Five wunths ... A wunth. I wonder what a wunth looks like. Doesn't it sound like a Dr. Seuss character?"

This beautiful, exasperating, enchanting thing that is Anne's mind will allow her to do whatever it is that God will call her to do someday. It will not, most likely, be a thing of linear learning and math problems, but it will be something that is resplendent in its own Anne-way.

It will be wunth-erful.

Ramona Today

She just said, "Magic School Bus kills me!"

And, while following Betsy around, shaking their new umbrellas (aka old lady's canes) at me:

"You young whippah-snappah!"

(Betsy is providing the acting lessons....)

Hedgie's Treasure Trove

It's truly that -- a treasure trove of fun and learning from Hedgie and his creator, Jan Brett.

A free subscription gets you regular emails from the site. Sometimes, we're so busy with other things that I don't spend much time checking them out. But at other times, I'll pour over all the delightful ideas and activities, games and educational resources.
This morning I found a fun little game of "Concentration" that the girls will enjoy.

A few years back, when Betsy's reading had still not taken off, we used Jan Brett's phonogram flash cards to play a version of charades that the girls delighted in. We took turns acting out all the words on a flash card and it had Betsy begging to "do phonics."

We love Jan Brett and her site is a feast for the eyes and the mind.

Deep Thoughts

which Atticus recently shared with me:

"Well ya see, Norm, it's like this ....

A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members!

In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells . But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine! That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

-- Cliff Claven

Receiving daily Mass readings

Bridegroom Press offers an email service in which you can receive the daily Mass readings. To sign up, go to this link at their website.

And, check out this breathtaking quote that Steve includes at the end of each day's readings:

"Quarry the granite rock with razors, or moor the vessel with a thread of silk, then may you hope with such keen and delicate instruments as human knowledge and human reason to contend against those giants, the passion and the pride of man."


~~ John Henry Cardinal Newman

Consider it all joy

It's not always easy. We know we're supposed to rejoice in our sufferings, yet when we're in the midst of them, they just hurt. Plain and simple.

One of the readings for Mass today is from James, and we are told:

My brethren, consider it all joy when you encounter various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. But let perseverance be perfected, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

I don't usually want to be perfect at the moment in which God is at work ... the chipping, shaping and sculpting He's doing hurts when He's in the middle of it, and I rather want to cry out, "Is this the only way? Couldn't you recommend a good book or something?"

And yet, in retrospect, I can always see that the things He chipped at and tossed out needed to go. Getting rid of them was for my good. Then the gratitude flows. I knew that, yes, when He was busy pounding on me, but it was hard to feel it. The feeling often comes later, when the pain has passed and the mind can reflect on the results of change.

Yet another grace and another mercy is that the more He has chipped away, the more we begin to welcome the process. Not that I like to be in pain, mind you, but over the years I've had a transformation in my view of suffering. I still dread it and dislike it. But, on another level, I welcome the process because I recognize it as God's active work in my life. He has either sent it or allowed it, and either way, it will be for my good. That much is assured.

Spiritual growing pains. Consider them joy.

Husband, father, all around great guy

How could you not love Atticus? Yesterday I received part of my Valentine's Day present early (he's saving the chocolate for tomorrow) and it was "Groundhog Day" on DVD. Now I can hear the director's commentary. I find that so much more appealing than jewelry and the best thing about Atticus is that he knows that.

And, on top of a great gift, he spent some time playing Barbies with the kids so I could steal a little bit of time to myself. Barbies. He got to be Ken. Of course, we have only Ken's head left (I can't remember what happened to the rest of Ken) so I'm not sure exactly how that played out, but I know that his daughters love him. Dearly. Giddily. Gratefully.

Who wouldn't?

Dancing in the kitchen

Having a bad day?

Drop everything and do this:

Put on your favorite music (it doesn't matter what, as long as it's your favorite), scoop up the nearest small child and dance with her. Twirl her, hold her, make her laugh, and kiss her sweet cheeks.

It works. It works with all kinds of music. If you love the music, it will change the moment.

This morning, I danced with Ramona in the kitchen. We were listening to "The Water is Wide" (yes, this was more the glide-and-sway, rather than the toss-and-twirl variety of dance) and this is what she said:

"This song reminds me of how much I love my family."

And it changed our day.

Atticus recently reminded me of this quote, which sums up that feeling we get when music reaches into our depths:

"All art aspires to the condition of music." ~~ Walter Pater

Eighteen Days with Triops

Not only did we not kill these creatures the first day, we've actually kept them alive (well, most of them) for more than two weeks. Considering that triops have a life expectancy of 20-90 days, I'm ready to declare the experiment a success.

We originally found that four had hatched. They were promptly named Rosalind, Skye, Jane and Batty, after The Penderwicks. After a day or two, we discovered there were actually five little critters motoring around the small tank. We named the fifth one Jeffrey (also from the Penderwicks.) Jeffrey soon disappeared, though, so we said he'd gone off to school at Pencey Military Academy. We were left with our four girls, and watched them grow at amazing speed. Unfortunately, one day we found we had only three Triop-enderwicks left. Ouch. We couldn't bring ourselves to consider all the possibilities (the least disgusting of which was that Mr. Putter the cat had helped himself) so we simply redubbed one of them Batty-Jane, so as to avoid the depressing turn the conversation would have taken had we acknowledged that one of our pets had died and been (yuck) eaten by her sisters.

I may not be the best science teacher, but I'm excellent in the "sensitive to feelings" department.

Betsy summed up the experience this way:

"There's only one problem with these triops."

"What's that?"

"They're CREEPY!"

Adventures with Little Women

We're revisiting the March household. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy, as well as beloved Marmee, are a big part of our days right now.

Yesterday, we made a post office. Just as the Marches shared with their neighbor Laurie the delights of unexpected mail, we're sharing the delight of notes full of love, gratitude or silliness. Betsy made mini flip-books for everyone, Anne shared one of her fashion designs with each of us (see this link for the Christmas present Anne is still enjoying), "Marmee" left the girls notes telling them how dearly she loves them, and Ramona (who had decorated her mailbox with a primitive happy face) checked her mail a number of times. "Father" came home from the war last night and was happily surprised by an overflowing mailbox.

Our post office is simple: Five envelopes, each made from two pieces of construction paper, taped together, with the front panel cut down decoratively to reveal the opening. Each bears a name (poor Meg has been left out as my girls dubbed themselves Amy, Jo and Beth) and they are all taped on a door in the kitchen, with Ramona's low enough that she can reach in and check it by herself.

What's up next? The girls are planning a Little Women tea party based on ideas from Emilie Barnes's Let's Have a Tea Party!

Patient suffering

I'm being redundant, as a guest homilist reminded us this past weekend at Mass.

As you probably know, the word "patient" comes from the Latin root "pati" meaning "to suffer."

So, to be patient is to suffer.

Reassuring words for a mother. When we strive to remain patient with the 10th diaper change of the day, with a toddler who's left a trail of destruction in the room we cleaned yesterday, a 7-year-old who spilled her second cup of milk in fifteen minutes, or a teen whose attitude toward algebra could rival a toddler's defiance any day ... then we are suffering. We are experiencing the passion of our vocation, and God is drawing us closer to Him through it.

Thank you, Lord, for these opportunities to suffer, to be patient, to grow -- little by little, step by step -- in holiness.

A holy death

Yesterday I spoke to a friend who lost her father to cancer last month. Her account of his death was so moving.

Just last year, at the Easter Vigil, her father was received into the Catholic Church. These past few months were a feast of sorts for father and daughter, sharing things of the faith that they'd never been able to share before. When her father took a sudden downward turn last month, my friend drove three hours to be with him and she was by his bedside when he slipped away. He'd had a final confession, received Last Rites, and died quietly after praying with his family.

Still, my friend (she blamed it on her Ocd) craved some kind of sign or assurance that her father was in God's arms. She went home, very late that night (I believe he died after midnight) and prayed that the Lord would give her some tiny sign that her father was truly okay. She went to bed.

The next morning, her mother (who is not Catholic) called. She said, "I don't know why, but my friend told me to be sure and tell you that today is the feast of the conversion of St. Paul."

My friend's father's name? It was Paul.

Happy birthday, Jack

Today is the birthday of my best friend (aside from you, of course, Atticus) and mentor of all things Catholic. Jack and I have been friends since we were teenagers and now that we're getting so unbelievably old that translates into almost 2/3 of our lives.

When I first met Jack, we were in high school speech class together. I didn't believe in much of anything. My spiritual journey and my questioning were just beginning. Jack was on his own spiritual journey, beginning to drift away from the Catholicism with which he'd been raised. His spiritual travels took him into Zen Buddhism, and in and out of many other ideas and philosophies. But as a seeker of Truth, he landed squarely back in the Catholic Church and was available to answer all my questions along the way. Because he had left, questioned and returned, he was an incredible source of information. He knew why he was Catholic, he had chosen to return to it and therefore, he could tell me the "whys" in ways I'd never heard before.

He was always patient, always loving, always ready to answer every question, from the most simplistic to the most combative. But always with love, and always with honesty. He didn't flinch at Truth, and he challenged me not to flinch at it, either.

Had we not both been speech and drama geeks in high school who knows where I would be today? Thank you, Jack, for being a speech geek, a Catholic, and my dear, forever friend.

Happy Birthday.

Ramona Today

Upon getting out of bed, and cuddling her doll:

"I like to treat my doll with respect and kind."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon getting her head a little too close to the hot lamp that keeps the triops warm:

"Oh! I don't want my hair to get crisped!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These beads were made for walkin'

Michelle Arnold over at Jimmy Akin.org has a post about praying the Rosary while walking.

I used to have a great habit of doing this. I awoke at 6 a.m., before the children (I only had two at the time, mind you, and they were sleeping until at least 7:00 in those days) and headed outside -- sometimes solo, sometimes with a tape player and headphones. Some days, I wanted nothing more than my own voice in my head and my own pace of prayer. Other days, I wanted the simple, straightforward presentation that is the Catholicity version of the Rosary. At times, I wanted the lovely, lilting voices of Dana and Fr. Kevin Scallon, with his short but moving reflections on each mystery. Some mornings I craved the voice and musical accompaniment of Jim Cowan. Whichever pace and version of the Rosary I chose, it was fruitful and fulfilling prayer time. So, what happened?

In short, Ramona happened. I have never been good at mixing a newborn with regular exercise. The two simply don't fit, at least not in my world. My children do not sleep particularly well, predictably, or for any length of time. I can have the best, most committed intentions vis-a-vis exercise, and they will always be thwarted by a child who needs me more than I need my walk.

I'm not saying that I should neglect exercise. I'm merely saying that I do neglect exercise because I'm not clever enough to do anything else.

Walk with your baby in a carrier, they say. Mmhmm. By the time I tried a walking routine with Ramona in tow, she was big enough (a few months old) for the back carrier. Having my hair pulled throughout the walk didn't work for me. She also despised her stroller for a very long time. Taking her with me on the walks wasn't working very well.

It was hard to slip out of the house, because there was no telling what time Ramona would wake -- would it be 4 a.m., or 7? 5:30 or 6:15? And if she awoke and I was not there, I pitied my poor husband. As willing as he was to help me work exercise into my day, Ramona has definitely been her mommy's girl. And my mommy's girl has had no routine, other than to switch her telepathic powers into gear the moment I slip into tennis shoes.

So, while I lost my morning walking routine, I gained something else. Atticus and I managed to begin a morning routine of prayer together. It was something we could do whether Ramona was in my arms or not. We both love the Liturgy of the Hours, and early morning, before he leaves for work is the perfect time to fit that in. Throw in some personal petitions, and we have a calm and comforting start to our day, whether Ramona has awakened at 5:00 or is blissfully sleeping in.

These days, Ramona is beginning to sleep a wee bit more reliably and so I could conceivably try to rev up the morning walking routine again. But, now I'm loathe to trade in our couple-prayer time for my solo Rosary. Which just goes to show that life -- our spiritual life as well as the rest of it -- is a constantly growing, changing thing. Routines are good and helpful, but they are often illusions and vapors, subject to change and disappearance at any given time, depending on what else God has in store for us. They let us think we're in control for awhile but God usually readjusts that thinking for us.

And so, I consider the trade-off: a loss of solo walks and predictable prayer time for the sweet, unexpected miracle that is Ramona, and a new routine of prayer with my husband. Ramona has, as my previous children (those born, and those who went straight into the arms of God) did, changed my prayer life in ways I couldn't foresee. I never expect my prayer life to be predictable anymore. A living, organic thing, which is what a prayer life is, must grow, change, adapt and forge new paths while drawing on the Source of its life at all times. As long as I remain focused on God (and on the means He sends for my sanctification) I can trust that all the changes and growth -- frustrating though they may be to my stubborn heart) are for my good.

Perhaps now it's time to keep the morning prayer routine with Atticus and to add a Rosary walk with Ramona, Betsy and Anne. Now, that could work.

A "Groundhog Day" Shrinklit

Remember Shrinklits?

They were hilarious, succinct little retellings (in silly verse) of classic (and some not-so-classic) works.

Here's my "Shrinklit" on "Groundhog Day":

Phil: at first, a selfish jerk
Focused on his fun and work
Women were a toy or game
Till every day became the same.

Quite suddenly, no rules apply
Steal some money, tell a lie
Nihilism's worth a spin
until despair comes crashing in

Suicide just didn't take
Surely something is at stake
Could it be that it is worth
Striving for a true rebirth?

Self improvement: worth a try?
Though all past ways it does defy?
Selflessness for its own sake?
Letting go of all that's fake?

Helping, saving, giving, tears
Authentic feelings, first in years
Letting go of all that's old
Lets in truth, releases cold

Something genuine and kind
Allows this man his best to find
Is this conversion? God at work?
Or one colossal cosmic quirk?

I can't top that

Ramona: I love you, Mommy.

Me: I love you, too, Sweetie.

Ramona: I love you, love you, Mommy.

Me: I love you, too, Sweetie. I love you loads.

Ramona: I love you loadser, Mommy.

If you don't own it, rent it

Then buy a copy. It's worth owning and (aptly) watching again and again.

I was going to write about the movie "Groundhog Day" on ... well, Groundhog Day, but didn't have time. Now, I don't have to, because Melissa Wiley and The Llama Butcher did it for me.

From the outside looking in

The perspectives are, simply, quite different.

CNN has a brief article on unschooling, a portion of which says:

"There is nothing like the texture of kids having contact with each other, making friends and relating to different adults in a school setting," said David Tokofsky, a longtime educator and member of the Los Angeles Unified School District Board of Education.

Funny. Here's another quote:

"There is nothing like the texture of kids having contact with each other {through our homeschool group, the "Moms Group" that meets in my home, art class at the local arts center, swimming with friends, and our American Girl history club}, making friends {with a rich array of people of all ages, including age-mates}, and relating to different adults {from all walks of life, as they interact with adults in real ways in the real world, rather than in the artificial world that a school setting creates}," said Karen Edmisten, longtime parent, homeschooler and member of a group of parents who believe in the invaluable practice of observing their children and catering to the ways in which they best learn.

on late nights and haiku

Anne wrote a haiku today:

Mr. Putter

Fat cat walking by
Getting fatter every day
He loves to cuddle


She inspired me:

Ramona

Sweet daughter's warm face
burrowing against my neck
overflowing joy

Betsy

clever mix you are
shy, sweet, loud ... so full of life
my true gift from God

Anne

First born child of mine
you're growing up and away
still, my lap is yours

And, Atticus's cynical contribution:

I can count to five
I can count to seven, too
I can count to five

(But I forgive him because he makes me laugh.)

My final one for tonight:

Little blogging time
Busy-ness in homeschool land
I am craving sleep

And, a hat tip to the woman who started it all:

Amy, at Haiku of a Homeschooler

The Great World Tour

We've been having fun with this book this week. Anne likes to sit down with it and make lists of the places she'd like to visit someday.

We also like The Great Animal Search. One delightful thing about books like this is that they work on so many levels, from preschool to older kids. They can spark great discussion and inspire further research for the older ones, or they can provide good cuddle time on the couch with Ramona-types.

Marmee, or Charlotte Mason?

“Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life become a beautiful success, in spite of poverty.”

~~ Little Women

The Heavenly Meeting

We had our Catholic homeschool group meeting yesterday, such as it is. In our overly large parish, there are only four families who homeschool, so our humble little group consists of four moms (grateful for each other) and 14 kids (perhaps even more grateful than we are.)

Yesterday was "theater day." Each of the older children chose a saint to portray. We gave them the premise of their play: You are all meeting up at the pearly gates of Heaven, and you proceed to ... do what? Have tea? Talk about Jesus? Compare notes on the time periods in which you lived? We set them loose to plan it while we took the little ones downstairs to act out Noah's Ark.

The ark was a kids' play tent, my friend's five-year old boy was Noah and his three-year old sister Mrs. Noah. The other little ones spent most of their time tossing stuffed animals into the ark and not answering my questions about key plot points. How is it that a whirring video camera (yes, mine still whirs which tells you how old it is) renders a child mute?

Finally it was time for the older kids to perform their play. They had delightful dress-up costumes, had decorated the floor of heaven with a rose garden (construction paper is good for so many things, and so much fun to cut and scatter) and we all proceeded to learn a whole lot about eight different saints as the actors narrated the lives they'd chosen to share. The final line in the play came from our group's oldest boy, 13-year old L.: "I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."