Join Me at Faith and Family Features Today

where I'm talking about spiritual progress in the domestic church:

Years ago, my then-seven-year-old daughter struggled to make straight stitches on her first sewing project.

“This is too hard!” she complained.

I reminded her that every new skill takes practice. With a sigh, she jabbed the needle through the fabric and muttered something. A moment later she cried out, “Oh! I bet before Adam and Eve ate that apple, nothing took practice!” ...

Read the rest here, at Faith & Family Features.

Call Me a Slacker, But ...

... I think sleep is a sublime invention.

Contrary to what much of contemporary culture thinks, I don't think sleep is weak -- except in the beautiful sense expressed in this article by Msgr. Stuart Swetland. Yes, I am weak. And I need sleep.

I don't think it's a luxury, as in the Warren Zevonian I'll-Sleep-When-I'm Dead-tradition.

I think it's necessary, valuable, normal and -- seriously -- better than anti-aging cream.

And, lack of the stuff seems to breeding a nation of people afflicted with Attention Deficit Disorder, as mentioned this article.

So, call me a slacker, but I'm letting my kids sleep in. Way in. It's one of the most important things on our list of "Summer Vacation Ideas."

(Photo courtesy of Andrew Haarsager at StockXchng.com)

Just How Patient Is Our New Dog?

Ramona just told us: "Sydney eats too much. Do you know that our hula skirts don't even fit her?"

Ramona, on regrets

Tonight, after dinner, Atticus began reading To Kill a Mockingbird to Betsy. Anne-with-an-e couldn't resist listening in, as it's one of her favorite books. I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, and Ramona disappeared. When I was finished in the kitchen, I found Ramona playing with Rush Hour Jr. in the living room.

"C'mon," I said. "Grab that Samantha book and I'll read to you."

"Okay!" she agreed, and skipped happily into my room. As we snuggled up on my bed, she said, "Gee, now I feel kind of bad about hiding Mr. Putter's fake mouse under your pillow."

Culture Gauge -- A Resource for Parents

I haven't had time to look through the entire site, but I received an email from the people at Culture Gauge, and it looks as if their summaries and reviews offer a great way to help parents stay on top of the constant bombardment of media messages.

From the website:

He [Jim Havens] recognized three ways parents were dealing with the popular media: the unaware parent (“it’s not so bad”), the overprotective parent (“I will shield my child from all media”), and the wise parent (“I need to raise my child to understand the popular media messages and teach them how to reject the bad and choose the good”).

That aligns with the Edmisten House Philosophy -- we try to be the wise parents, and take a look at, discuss and sift through what we and our children consume. I don't always feel terribly wise, but the "informed consumer" approach seems the best for our family in this media-driven world.

Here is a page of free samples showing the kinds of reviews available at Culture Gauge, and here is the membership page where you can sign up. 

~~~~~

"Parents have the first responsibility for the education of their children. They bear witness to this responsibility first by creating a home where tenderness, forgiveness, respect, fidelity, and disinterested service are the rule."

                         -- Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2223

(Note: I have no material interest in the website; I just try to pass on good stuff!)

Books for girls discerning a call to religious life?

I have a friend whose daughter would like to do some research on various orders, and on discernment of one's vocation.

Ideas for books and websites would be appreciated -- thanks!

Poetry Friday ... Summer with Atticus

 Summer with Atticus goes something like this:


1. We experience a period of what my friend Sally calls "mini retirement." Sally's married to a teacher. She knows what it's like to suddenly have her husband around the house more often than usual. And how it feels to be extremely grateful for the privilege while simultaneously struggling to reorder a routine. She knows what it's like to tell herself to just shut up about where he tends to leave the salt shaker.

2. Adjustment period ends quickly. Everyone is happy.  Who cares where the salt shaker is?

3. Atticus takes over meal planning and cooking for a couple of months.

4. If I were the kind of person who jumps up and down and claps, I would do so at this point. You know how I feel about cooking. I'm figuratively jumping up and down right now.

5. Atticus is, at this very moment, out buying donuts from the new donut shop in town for the girls.  They've been wanting to try it. I keep saying, "Oh, yeah.  We need to do that. We'll get there soon ...." whereas Atticus actually goes out and buys the donuts.

6. He selects this moving piece from Robert Frost for Poetry Friday:

Two Look at Two
by Robert Frost

Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness;
When they were halted by a tumbled wall
With barbed-wire binding. They stood facing this,
Spending what onward impulse they still had
In One last look the way they must not go,
On up the failing path, where, if a stone
Or earthslide moved at night, it moved itself;
No footstep moved it. 'This is all,' they sighed,
Good-night to woods.' But not so; there was more.
A doe from round a spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall, as near the wall as they.
She saw them in their field, they her in hers.
The difficulty of seeing what stood still,
Like some up-ended boulder split in two,
Was in her clouded eyes; they saw no fear there.
She seemed to think that two thus they were safe.

(Read the whole poem here.)

I do love Robert Frost (as evidenced by the number of times he's been invited over for Poetry Friday.) 

I do love summer.

And I do truly, madly, deeply love that man I call Atticus.

You'll find the Poetry Friday round up at The Art of Irreverence.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

A friend is in town from Chicago, visiting her daughter and grandbabies. But, she also has an 8-year-old daughter, who's a dear friend of Ramona's. So, we've been busy catching up, hanging out, making plans.

*****

Ramona and I missed the final Holy Mass last night of one of our favorite priests. (He's leaving our parish, though fortunately isn't moving too far away, so we'll still get to see him.) Ramona wasn't feeling well, so I stayed home with her. I finally figured out that she is very much like her father. I will give her Benadryl only at bedtime from now on, as it knocked her for a loop.

*****

Yesterday was the feast day of St. John Fisher, Atticus' Confirmation saint.  He doesn't care about cupcakes (Atticus, that is, not St. John), which are the usual feast day treat of choice for my girls, but he did enjoy one of these, after cleaning the gutters:

 
Atticus, that is, not St. John.

*****

Did you know that a washing machine has a clutch? It does, and my clutch is broken. I am enjoying the break from laundry, but am not looking forward to the pile that will await me Thursday, when the repair is completed.  On the other hand, I'm grateful that I own a washing machine. I'll just think of Thursday's pile as "vacation laundry."

*****

Summer reading -- I haven't had a lot of time for reading yet! Not so with my girls. Betsy just raced through The Hunger Games and Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins and we're having a great time discussing them.  We can't wait for Mockingjay to be published.

(eta: Please see the comments of this post for parental warnings and caveats. And thanks to Nutmeg for asking the question. I should have gone into more detail initially.) 

*****

Planning, planning, planning: summer activities, get-togethers, trips to see my sister, and my parents, and Laura Ingalls' Wilder's house in Mansfield, Missouri.  Fun stuff!

A Sneak Peek at the Cover of My New Book

It will be published in October, by Servant Books, and it will look like this:

I feel extraordinarily blessed to work with Servant, and this was an amazing project. More details coming soon.

Happy Father's Day, Atticus! (Stuff We Love About You)

It's all here. 

(Image from ImageChef.com) 

Poetry ... Saturday?

Yes. Because I missed Poetry Friday.

But, if you want to catch up with others' posts, you can find the Poetry Friday round up here, at Two Writing Teachers.

 

Advice for Fathers

A savvy collection of parental warnings from James Stenson:

Advice for Fathers

I agree with most of it and especially like that Stenson stresses that high school is not the best time of one's life. Atticus and I often talk about that (and Atticus tells his students the same thing.)  The world does kids a real disservice when we tell them that high school is the pinnacle of existence.  (Such a message might also encourage them to do memorably stupid things, no?)

(I came across this article thanks to the CERC -- the Catholic Education Resource Center.  I don't often have enough time to read through all the linked articles, but they do a great job of rounding things up.)

How Do You Say "Latin Camp" in Latin?

There's still time to sign up for Summer Latin Camps through Homeschool Connections.

Carpe camp!

Thinking About Having Children, Part 2: Selfishness and Sacrifice

Part I is here.

People on both sides of this issue tend to think of those on the other side as selfish.

When I didn't desire children, I knew that some people saw me as selfish. I remember sitting around the workplace and listening to a coworker talk about her neighbor. "They don't even have any kids," she snorted. "How selfish is that?" I was stunned that the simple state of being childless could brand a woman. And ironically, although some of my reasons for wanting to avoid children were selfish, I had just as many reasons that I thought of as merciful to my would-be children. I was convinced I'd be a horrible parent.

Now that I'm on the flip side, a different group sees my actions as selfish.

Having been both childless by choice, and a mom of three, I can say this: motherhood is hard.  And when I'm doing it right, it demands that I be anything but selfish.

Motherhood is a string of sacrifices. They start in pregnancy because -- let me tell you -- being pregnant was fun for me only during months four and five. That's when the 24/7 morning sickness ended, the progesterone treatments could halt, I finally looked pregnant instead of fat, and I wasn't yet so big that I waddled and was uncomfortable all the time.  (I'm 5' 2" and one of my babies was almost nine pounds. This is a working definition of "off balance.")

Then there's labor (which my body does not perform well) and delivery and the realization that I'm actually responsible for another human being.  In a piece I wrote several years ago (Are You New? for Babies Today), I mentioned this:

During labor, I'd developed a fever. Immediately after her birth, my baby was whisked away for testing and antibiotics because she, too, had a fever. In those first few hours I was in and out of lucidity and all I could think of was sleep. I remember asking myself, when they brought my daughter in for a nursing, "Why do they keep bringing me this baby?!" Only to realize, "Oh, yeah. I'm the mother."  The reality and magnitude of my responsibility suddenly overwhelmed me. I'm the mother.

I was the mom.

It was terrifying.

All the other cliches of new babydom, including excruciatingly sleepless nights, crying (oh, yeah -- the baby cried a lot, too) and beginning my worry about my children's futures before they'd sampled solid food kicked in.

I was recently reading Hilda van Stockum's Canadian Summer with the girls. In one scene, Grannie is describing how, when she was a little girl, she gave her beloved doll to orphans:

"And my mother warned me seriously that I would never have another like it and probably would miss it but I wanted to give it anyway."

"I guess you didn't realize," said Joan.

"Yes, I did realize and I knew I should be sorry and I was sorry. It was my first sacrifice," said Grannie, smiling gently into the fire ...

... "But I've remembered that doll all my life. In a way it is the only one I still have, for the others are forgotten. Which shows that it is what you give away that you truly possess."

It is what you give away that you truly possess.

When I had children, I gave myself away.

And in doing that, I came to genuinely possess who and what I am.

Not in the sense I used to imagine, which went something like this: "If I have children, I will become one of those desperate women without a life. I'll live through and for the kids and someday when they move out I won't even know who I am."

No. That's not it at all. My husband and family (because, incidentally, I once felt the same way about marriage) have become part of who I am, and I am a part of them, too. We weave in and out of each other's lives in ways that are surprising, unpredictable, hard and sublime.

And the sacrifices that motherhood requires of me have not resulted in a net loss but in immeasurable gains that are, to be sure, challenging and demanding but gains that are gifts.

As I wrote a couple of years ago in another post:

I could not see, as C.S. Lewis said in The Problem of Pain:

"We are not merely imperfect creatures who must be improved: we are... rebels who must lay down their arms."

I didn't want to lay down my arms. But, clearly, at some point, my arms slipped or were wrenched from me (a bit of each, at various stages) because here I am. I surrendered, first of all, to a "mere Christianity," and later to the Catholic Church. And in laying down my arms and waving those white flags, in asking God to let me die so that I might rise again, in accepting that I might become a new creation in Him, I have found a peace the depth of which I couldn't have conceived in my atheist days.

In the midst of that peace is the knowledge that while I did "lose" myself I have paradoxically also become a truer version of myself. In surrendering everything (from my time, my marriage, my fertility, my writing, and my cherished sleep, oh, sleep) to God, He has shown me that He will lead me, wisely and well, in all things and that I will inch closer to becoming the person He intends me to be. He's proven to me that He knows better than my best-laid plans.

I really believe that most people on both "sides" of the issue of children are trying their best to figure it out and do the right thing. The world we live in makes it pretty complicated and confusing. For me, the answers became simple (not easy and not simple-minded, but simple to understand) in the context of my faith.

Children are both sacrifice and gift. Not everyone is called to have them -- hey, some of my best friends are celibate -- but when a gift is given, it is worth the sacrifice it takes to accept it.

Baby hears his mother's voice for the first time

This is a beautiful moment.

Poetry Friday: Ted Kooser

I love Ted Kooser. That's all I have to say. I love this man.


In The Alley

by Ted Kooser

In the alley behind the florist's shop,
a huge white garbage truck was parked and idling.
In a cloud of exhaust, two men in coveralls
and stocking caps, their noses dripping,
were picking through the florist's dumpster
and each had selected a fistful of roses.

As I walked past, they gave me a furtive,
conspiratorial nod, perhaps sensing
that I, too (though in my business suit and tie)
 .... 

Read the whole poem here, at The Writer's Almanac.

~~~~~
Today's Poetry Friday Round up is at Kelly Polark's place.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days (and Ramona is making videos)

I've been getting organized around here. Cleaning up paperwork, clearing away clutter. Yesterday, I breathed a satisfied sigh of relief and told Anne that, "I just think better when all the paperwork is organized and things aren't so cluttered."

"Really?" she replied. (Clearly, Anne is of the This Mess in My Room is Actually Organized by an Intricate System in My Head school.)

"Yes!" I said, sensing an opportunity to evangelize on the joys of filing. "It just ... oh, what? ... It just helps." (Clearly, getting organized does not, however, make me more articulate.)

"I know what you mean," said Ramona.  "There's isn't as much to think about. There's less fog."

Clearly.

~~~~~

I would rather wear this than anything designed by this guy.  Now you know my fashion philosophy (obviously influenced by a love of history.) 

I have more to say, but one of the curses of being both a blogger and a Christian is that I often bite my tongue (or slap my fingers off the keyboard) and I don't allow myself to be nearly as funny as I could be. If I didn't worry about being callous and ugly, I think I could really be funny. But I do worry. So I'm not that funny.

~~~~~

We are having a terrific thunderstorm here. It makes me want to bake cookies and pumpkin bread and build a fire and read something pioneer-y with the kids.  I know! We'll read about the history of shoes.

~~~~~

We all signed up for the library's summer reading program. In general, I've always steered clear of things that offer rewards for reading. We breathe, therefore we read. But a few years back I signed the kids up because, hey, who doesn't want a free book and some ice cream just for doing what we do anyway? Why not teach the kids a little vocabulary -- can you say mercenary? And this year, there's a drawing for an iPod Touch.  (Kind of a funny incentive for a reading program, but we'll take it.)

Betsy finished her reading record in, oh, something like a day and a half (no, not really, but she's voracious.) But she has to wait, according to program regulations, to turn the record in until something like June 14th. I suppose they have to stem the tide of cheaters and hold them off on claiming prizes until a reasonable period of time has elapsed.  But, honestly ... who wants to be reasonable when it comes to books and pacing??

~~~~~

Ramona has been making videos. In one of them, she says this:

"Everybody has pets. Unless they are allergic to animals, which would be really sad.

"Anyway, everyone has stories to share. Everyone has feelings. Everyone has stories to share that help with other ones' feelings.

"So when I hear my dog start barking, I know she has feelings. Sad feelings, happy feelings, glad feelings, embarrassed feelings, scared feelings, excited feelings ... feelings that she's never felt before ... feelings for another dog ... [imagine giggle here, then a return to seriousness] ... I tell her stories that will help."

I think my Ramona is a little writer in the making. Isn't that what writing is about?

Telling stories that help. 

More discussion about having kids vs. not having kids

in the combox of this post. 

Lindsay in NJ, winner of the Rosary book ...

... please be sure to email me your address!

How to Make Your Seven Year Old Daughter Happy

When she asks if she can clear out a kitchen cupboard for the day and use it as a dollhouse, just say yes.

Ramona's Lament

Ramona had a busy week -- we had a friend visiting from out of town and made two trips to Omaha and back to pick our friend up then deliver her back home after the visit. The kids had Vacation Bible School all week, with my older girls volunteering and Ramona participating. Yesterday, after VBS, she played at the park with friends.

Last night, she was overtired and cranky which led to an outburst that found me sending her to her room for a cooling down period. Later, when the storm had passed, she and I sat at the kitchen table, sharing a snack.

Ramona said, "I have that 'After Grumpy' feeling. Do you know what I mean?"

I told her yes, I knew exactly what she meant -- that feeling of no longer being upset, but not feeling happy yet either, and feeling kind of bad about the whole thing.

"Yeah," she continued, "it's like, you were so grumpy but then you start to wonder, how much of my life have I wasted complaining?"

Poetry Friday: Baby Wrens' Voices

I dare you to not love this poem.

With lines like:

Because I love best those songs
that shake the house of the singer,

how could you not?

And because I love best those poems that pierce, in large ways and small, this week I'm sharing Baby Wrens' Voices, by Thomas R. Smith.

Read it here, at the Poetry Foundation.

The round up this week is at The Cazzy Files.

Thinking About Having Children

You might be surprised at the number of people who land on my blog every day after Googling variations on "Reasons to Have Kids."

It all started back when I wrote this post. 

I had read about a book called No Kids: Forty Good Reasons Not to Have Children and I dashed off a response that consisted of forty reasons to have them. Not forty reasons as in, "I'd like to start a serious discussion about having children vs. not having children," but rather forty reasons as in, "I have nothing else to blog about today and my kids? I love 'em awful. I'll blog forty reasons to have them."

However, blogging is never that simple. After the initial and cheering support from friends and other Catholic moms, the post became a common Google result and another kind of comment started to roll in. (But, hey, kids of my friends and friends of my kids -- check with your moms before you read it. Some of the commenters get a bit rude.)  Which is fine. I can take it.  I welcome discussion -- not soundbites, and not meaningless debate, which is unfortunately the kind of debate that tends to happen in comboxes, but real conversation.

But why am I bringing this up now? Because the conversation fascinates me in myriad ways. We live in a world with a number of options that weren't available to our parents and grandparents. "To have or not to have" was not a question for most of human history but contraception has made it one. But there's more to my interest than that.

Having once been on the "childfree by choice" side of the issue, I'm interested in how we can talk about this without accusations and anger. Because, on one hand, I know what it feels like to not want children, and to feel like a freak for that choice. I remember the way other women looked at me with suspicion, the way people assumed I was a selfish oaf. Now that I have children, I can see that even though I was not a selfish oaf (I don't think ...) actually having children to care for has made me unselfish in ways I could never have aniticipated.

So, that's one aspect I'd love to explore more in writing -- how we can simply talk about this without alienating each other.

The other thing I want to talk about is faith -- it plays a huge role. Obviously, being a Catholic who lives by the teachings of the Church (no artificial birth control) has changed me. (If I were twelve years old, I'd say "duh" here ....)  But the very fact that it comes back to a faith discussion is also key.

When we go searching for reasons to have kids, we often want to make a "pros and cons" list. We want to weigh profit and loss, decide which choice offers the biggest gain.  That sort of thinking was bittersweetly summed up in an old movie called Kramer vs. Kramer. A moving scene shows Dustin Hoffman's character evaluating the reasons that might make it "worth it" to fight for custody of his son.  The "pro" side of his list is short and abstract (I can't remember for certain -- does he write anything on the "pro" side?) The concrete "cons" are lengthy. Abstraction wins. Mr. Spock might not be happy with the logic, but anyone who has ever felt any kind of love will get it.

Human relationships just can't be confined to a P & L analysis.

These are just some rambling thoughts on some ideas I hope to expound on in some posts to come.

I'm at Faith and Family Live Today

Meet me there as I talk about comparing baby days and teen times.

Who's got it tougher?

I Really Haven't Completely Run Out of Things to Say

It only appears that way on my blog.

I actually have a variety of conversations every day, with a number of different people. I have ideas, opinions, and activities, all of which have been preventing me from appearing to have ideas, opinions or activities here on this blog.

Ahem.

I hope to get back to real posting soon.

Winners of the Rosary Books

Ramona just drew the winning names and they are:

wendysuzyq

and

Lindsay (comment left May 23, 7:53 p.m.)

Please get back to me with your contact information!