Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul

How to Celebrate the Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul On Limited Energy

Step 1. Find a really great blog post by an amazing mother. Copy what she did that requires little energy.

Step 2. Hand the printed out coloring pages and instruction for playing St. Paul's Blind Man's Bluff to the babysitter and let her do the fun stuff with the children. Go lay down and take a nap.

Step 3. Marshall almost all the energy for the day to make a batch of cupcakes: boats in honor of the Barque of Peter, the Fisherman, and St. Paul who did many of his apostolic trips by boat. Note that my cupcakes are much simpler than those made at Shower of Roses. The children colored the sails and cut them out for me. 

If I had taken any wider of a shot with my camera, you would have seen one counter entirely covered in piles of papers and books, a sink full of dirty dishes, and a floor that is long in need of mopping. I used up my energy baking cupcakes.

And then an angel-friend of mine brought us dinner. Fully made and ready to serve! I am so blessed.

First Trimester

I think the blog is going to be "quiet" for a while yet, as I find myself cutting out all extras in order to have energy to grow toes and things like that.

I'm spending the great portion of my days feeling like I'm just trying to "pass the hours." I have a view like the above from the couch in the den, or the couch in the play room, or any of the beds in the various rooms upstairs. I migrate the children around the house to places where I can lie horizontal and supervise them. I feel pretty heroic if I take them into the back yard and supervise them from sitting in a chair.

The children are being asked to step up their responsibilities. Both kids can feed the baby. It feels almost miraculous that John (5) can do some chores, like I can tell him, "Please go upstairs and clean the hall bathroom" or "Please vacuum your bedroom" and he can do it! Even one year ago that would have seemed unfathomable. I'm forcing myself to get more help from them unloading the dishwasher and setting the table for dinner even though it can be easier to do those things myself rather than deal with the teaching moments to get small children to help. Chris is helping as often as he can with things like taking the children to swim class or appointments.

I'm doing better in this pregnancy because of a new medication regime. Instead of the Bendectin I've used in the last two pregnancies, this time I'm taking Zofran and Phenergan around the clock. Friends who know me know that I'm always looking to avoid drugs and I don't even take acetaminophen when pregnant if I can avoid it. But a person has to balance the ill effects of everything, and vomiting for seven months and losing 5% of one's body weight have health repercussions that are bad for Baby and Mama too. Even with the medications, I feel quite oogy--sometimes "head-spinningly yucky"--all the time, but I count my blessings that I'm not vomiting (so far).

I'm struggling with a dark cloud in part because of feeling ill, so I am trying hard to remind myself countless time that I am blessed to be feeling sick because of LIFE within me instead of feeling sick because of DISEASE within me. How many people suffering disease would do just about anything to feel the same yucky feelings due to nascent life instead, right? I wish I were holy enough that knowing that in my head translated well into my emotions!

First Job and First Play

The kids worked their first job . . . and boy, did they clean up! Chris and I are still working out what our parental money philosophy will be, but we think that we want children to do chores around the family because we're part of a family that works together, not because of an allowance. However, we are willing to let them earn money for doing chores above and beyond their normal duties. I needed help with weeding, which is hard for me to do while I'm feeling oogey. I thought that offering one cent per weed was too cheap, so I told the children I'd pay them a nickel per weed. Well, after Mary picked 60 weeds and John picked 100 in about half an hour, I realized that five cents per weed was too much, but I chose to stand by my word. I also realized that counting weeds is quite difficult, so how else could I measure them for payment? I don't think I could weigh them because of the other detritus that makes it into the bucket.

Mary drew a picture of "our new born baby!" Then later in the day she asked, "Did God send us our new baby?" I answered 'yes,' and she exclaimed, "God is the most loving father!"

Chris' parents arrived for a visit and, in the evening, Pop-Pops and I took John to his first real live play: an original script of "Pollyanna" produced and performed by homeschooling families at a local Baptist church. It was a very professional play for community theatre! John could not have been more enthralled as we sat in the second row. He was amazed at it all: the sets, the children actors, how they could memorize all their lines, how the lights went out, the stage hands changing sets, that refreshments were sold at intermission. It was truly a joy to my heart to see him so excited with something that has been a lifelong love of mine.

Unfortunately, it did not go so well back at home: I was being very brave and leaving behind 15-month-old Margaret so I could spend some alone time with my big boy. Apparently Margaret cried vociferously for almost the entire three and a half hours I was gone. She was a sorry sight when I got home and I felt terrible about it.

Darby Acres Farm

On Thursday, a group of Charlotte homeschooling families took a field trip to Darby Acres Farm. The price was very reasonable for all-day fun . . . if a parent could last all day chasing kids around in the heat! Admission is $3 per person walking age and above, plus $5 per basic pony ride (with fancier trotting rides available!). I highly recommend this venue to my local friends!

Just some of the tractors available on display 

An employee gave us a tour of the many animals for about an hour and a half.

Snow White the chicken

 The children got to groom a miniature horse.

It was explained to us that this breed of cow, whose name I forget, is one of the most or the most docile kind. Staring down those horns, I was doubtful but glad to hear it.

Climbing after Big Sister

Sitting down and hoping a bunny will come to her 

This is how a person gets bunnies to hop to her!

Hedgehogs are ridiculously cute. The farm had other pet rodents, such as chinchilla, guinea pigs, and hamster.

We found our way to the bathroom to thoroughly scrub hands before eating lunch. It was located in a nondescript red barn: half the building contained restored old-fashioned cars on display and the other half housed what looked like a really happenin' restaurant (closed during the day)! The children were thrilled with this mechanical horse that did not even require quarters to ride.

I had to make the kids ditch out of the tour a little early because pregnant Mama needs to eat very regularly. I'd already eaten our granola bars wrapped in nice, clean foil, and I wasn't going to eat hand-held food with my grubby animal hands. I pushed myself a few minutes too long and the sweet children were asking questions like, "Can't we just look at this one thing here?" "NO! WE CAN'T! MAMA NEEDS TO EAT. MAMA IS GOING TO BE SICK. GET TO THE CAR RIGHT NOW!"

Anyway, we got some food in me just in time in the nice shaded picnic area. And I was reminded that I need to pack more food than I think I'm going to need.

Afterward we rejoined the group for horse rides.

We finished up our three hours playing in the wonderful sandbox and on the playground, and jumping on the full-sized trampoline. The children could have lasted longer and done more things, but this Mama was done in.

I've been reflecting on things today. Mamas have up-moments and down-moments and, getting ready for this field trip this morning, I knew in advance that my children would be ungrateful about it. I swear, the more gifts they receive, the more fun things are arranged for them, the more ungrateful they are and the more cause for complaint that they find. (I know some more experienced mommy friends of mine will read that and think, "Ah, you're just now figuring that out?") So, this morning, I realized going in to it that they would find reason to complain and reason to be ungrateful and I felt pretty sour about it in anticipation.

At first I thought it was just my children. Then I thought, no, it's children. Then I thought, no, it's human beings who are ungrateful wretches. We are and that's the ugly truth. What else could be the result of Original Sin?

And really, why should I care that they are grateful to me, perhaps even that they might fawn all over me for being such a Fun Mommy? Because of my motivation for taking the kids on such a field trip. Clearly, if I were doing it purely for their enjoyment or the good development of their souls, I wouldn't mind that they were ungrateful pills, but I do mind and I take personal offense (which is wrong and bad). That is very revealing about me. My children's godmother once gave me an extremely good tip for examining my own motivations: If the children's bad behavior makes me sad, I am thinking about their own good as souls, but if their bad behavior makes me angry, I am thinking selfishly about myself.

So, in anticipation of the children being bratty at the end of our field trip, I remind myself how thankful I am that--since my children would express ingratitude wherever they are, whatever they are doing--I get to stay home with them, raising them full time, so that I can be here for all these opportune teaching moments. I can make the effort time and time again, dozens of times per day, to teach them gratitude. Of course, on a day when I'm feeling low already, I am giving myself that pep talk and saying these words with a bunch of dry sand in my mouth.

Honestly, I liked the accolades I received being in the working world. I have such a fat file folder of glowing letters of recommendation and commendation from my ten years in the corporate world. It felt really good to get dressed well in the morning, basically be in control of my schedule, do a job competently, receive accolades frequently, and be paid for doing it. In contrast, being a full-time homemaker and mother involves having almost no control over my schedule (despite trying to have a good routine), giving over my body to grow and nourish babies (which results in a look that ain't so pretty), being extremely sleep-deprived, being given no paycheck with my name on it, and receiving instead of letters of commendation: complaints, tears, screams of insult, and a lack of gratitude.

Indeed, as predicted, the best-behaved child thanked me for this field trip only because I instructed the child to do so. (When, when, oh when? will they learn to say 'thank you' spontaneously after being given something? Even though I require a thank you endless times per day every day for as many years as they've been speaking?) The worst-behaved child refused to thank me (after obviously having a great time for hours), scowled, and had to be threatened with a punishment before grudgingly dripping out a sarcastic thank you, followed by whispered words against me from the depths of the van to which I chose to close my ears because I was too tired to deal with it.

And I'm so glad I got to be there for that moment to help form those children's souls in their varying degrees of selfishness. Excuse me while I go spit out some of the dry sand in my mouth.

I'm Already Booked, Thank You

The cute and odd things the children are going to say about my pregnancy have begun.

John and Mary often "sign us up" for things. They carry about little papers and pencils and "sign up" Mama to attend a play or Daddy to go to lunch or something like that.

Today I was working in the kitchen when John walked in and pronounced: "I signed up me, Mary, and Miss Rachel to go under the table. I didn't sign you up because you're going to have a baby after Mary's birthday and after my birthday and after Christmas. If you've had a baby before, you can't go under the table."

And he turned on his heel and left.

I don't know what it means to go under the table, but I guess I'm not going there.

One, Two, Three, Four!

Last week, I was saying something (who can remember what?) about my three children. John piped up, "And then you'll have a fourth baby."

"Really? What made you say that?"

"I just think you're going to have a fourth baby soon."

"Well, that would be wonderful."

John didn't know at the time that his hope was, in fact, already true!

Chris and I are overjoyed that God has blessed us again with a little one! The changes in the baby's hand and foot development this week are astonishing: click here for fetal photos.

We told the kids this morning and they were very happy, with Mary in particular leaping for joy.

This wee one should arrive in time for my birthday in February!

Artwork by Mary

At three-and-a-half, Mary's ability to write and draw is really improving lately! She is much more interested in drawing than John ever was and I find little drawings left all over the house. She draws people, animals, landscapes, and inanimate objects like furniture, and she uses a standard 2-D perspective as well as a bird's eye view.

A stegasaurus dinosaur (head to the left, with a smile) 

Mary and Mama in a sailboat

Mary learned how to write her name mostly on her own, just asking me sometimes how a letter was made. It really is humorous to me how I find MARY written on scraps of paper all over the house every day.

 Our family: I like how the girls have longer hair than the boys. I'm not sure who the sixth person is.

A self-portrait of a happy Mary

Attempted Zip Line

Maybe I need to start a blog label something about, "Another Reason for Dads."

I really don't understand why, but Chris has mentioned his desire to put a zip line in our back yard for a couple of years now. Why we need a zip line? I don't know, but he does! I think it is a Dad thing. One day last week he came home with some supplies to build his own instead of buying a kit.

Well, it didn't quite work . . . 

. . . but he and John had fun trying!

Meanwhile, Margaret has learned how to climb up the slide (all of one foot!) and "slide" back down. She is very proud of herself and does it over and over again.

Margaret is becoming such a little person these days! She is now 15 months old. Her receptive language is exploding, so that I can give her many instructions and she understands them well. "Go get the book in the basket." "Do you want a pretzel?" "Climb up on the bed." She doesn't say much but knows about eight signs.

She makes her desires well known, whether she wants a particular food or a sippy cup of water or to get out of the stroller. After doing some very casual early potty training, Margaret lets me know when she needs to go potty and she is now getting almost all of her #2s in the toilet. I can change wet diapers for years without minding, but it sure is great not having to change dirty diapers!

Little Miss is increasingly "part of the gang," running off to play with her siblings rather than staying with me. She is learning how to play with toys, like vrooming a train, and is starting to bring me books to "read" to her.

This is a delightful age! (Except for the huge and willful tantrums she is learning to throw. :)

Stuck On the Door

I really wish I had a photo of this typical Mary moment, but I don't.

I was in the adjoining room when I heard Mary (3-1/2) call out in a faked casual tone of voice masking a bit of fear: "Mama, I need your help. I am stuck."

"Where are you stuck?"

"On the door."

I couldn't even figure out what that meant, so I walked to her bedroom.

She was on the door. Mary was on the top third of her bedroom door, clinging to it, one hand on each side, one foot on each side, rather like an insect with sticky feet. She was above the door knobs, her feet not standing on the door knobs, which is why her strength was running out quickly.

I lifted her down and asked her how she got there.

Triumphantly, she answered: "Well, first I climbed on top of my dollhouse. Then I stepped from there to the top of my play kitchen. Then I was able to climb up on the door and I pushed off with my foot so the door swung out to the middle. And that's when I got stuck."

Father's Day 2012

Happy Father's Day!

After Mass, we went to breakfast with our friends the R----s, which was a lot of fun.

After some lovely naps were had, the kids played in the back yard and Mama tried to make a more-special-than-usual dinner.

Mary helped me bake the apple pie, which decidedly needed improvement, but was at least edible. Frankly, the saying "easy as pie" has never made sense to me because I find pies rather difficult to make.

End of Summer Catechesis Camp

Friday marked the last day of John's summer catechesis camp. On the fourth and fifth mornings, John asked if he could "take a day off from camp" because he had "other things to do." He wasn't tearful and all I had to explain was that it is only a one-week event, then it's done, so he went and had fun. It was interesting to see that John preferred a bit more of a home life, even though camp was grand fun.

I thought the program did a great job exposing children to the sacraments and not just fluffy stuff. I think on the first couple of days, the children were taken into the church to hear stories of saints. On Wednesday, Fr. Reid made the Sacrament of Confession available for children old enough. On Thursday, the children were taken for Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, and apparently the preschoolers did a fantastic job, sitting quietly for the entire 25 minutes! Then on Friday the day began with the families and kids attending Mass.

Then I took the girls home and cooked a giant batch of macaroni and cheese for the family potluck luncheon that concluded the camp. We got back to church early, so I took the girls to play on the playground while we waited for John to get out.

No baby was harmed in the posing of this photograph!

This is the highest spot in the playground and, therefore, Mary's favorite.

The luncheon had a great turnout. As each child said goodbye to the visiting Dominican nuns who taught them, they were given a rosary and holy card each. All in all, a success! I'm so grateful to the team of mothers who put in a tremendous amount of work to organize this camp and to the group of more than 50 teen helpers.

Summer Catechesis Camp

Today John attended his first morning of summer catechesis (often known, especially in Protestant churches, as vacation Bible school). Yes, we actually signed up our firstborn to be away at school for three hours per morning five days in a row.

John was very nervous, despite my fake casual cheerfulness that this was all going to be great. He was almost in tears a few days ahead of time, thinking he'd be wandering the building alone, not knowing where to go, and what if he didn't like the snack? The night before he informed me that he couldn't go because he had planned to play outside with Daddy all day and he didn't have time to do both. My mama's heart was seriously aching as I kept on faking that smile.

I packed him a little backpack and tucked in it a love note from Mama, which I read to him ahead of time so he would know what it said.

When it came time to drop him off, he was excited. I sucked back my tears.

"All Aboard the Vatican Express" by Growing With the Saints seems like a fairly solid program, which is good because I've seen too many VBS programs used in Catholic parishes to which we would not send our kids. (On the subject, I plan to do Holy Heroes Summer Faith Adventure with our kids one of these weeks--an at-home program in which Mary is old enough to participate also.)

When I picked up John, he greeted me at the top of the stairs shouting, "Mama, I had a great day!" I had brought us a picnic, which we ate in the cafeteria before making our way home.

Bonus Reading: A parishioner at our parish (a homeschooled teenager, actually!) had what I believe is a extremely well-written article published in our diocesan paper. Its subject is the Harry Potter book series and he presents very well the analysis made by Michael O'Brien in "Harry Potter and the Paganization of Culture" and the opinion given by Pope Benedict XVI.

46 Feet, But Who Is Counting?

Where has my extremely cautious little firstborn gone?

Chris took John rock climbing at the U.S. National Whitewater Center, where John scurried to the top of the 46-foot wall. Again, this is what daddies are for!

Our Big Friday

On Friday morning, I realized I needed to make that strawberry freezer jam I'd planned before we went out for the afternoon. I thought I could just squeeze it in between activities. Little lesson for novice jam maker: Canning needs to be allowed the entire day in case of mishaps.

My strawberries on a great sale made a lot more jam than I'd anticipated. I didn't have this much room in my freezer. I set the jars on the counter to cool and left, planning to tackle the problem later.

The children and I joined our friends the D---s for the second national religious freedom rally (both husbands having to stay at work). On our way from the parking garage, we exited through the lobby of a corporate building to the street. While pausing to let a child use the restroom, a gentleman in a suit walked over to chat with us: two mamas, one very obviously pregnant, and five children present. He stood there, counted the children with an aghast look on his face, and then said, "Wow, all these children would drive me crazy!" I wish that instead of chuckling nervously like a dope that I'd had the presence of mind instead to have replied cheerfully that I was surely grateful God blessed us instead of him with these children. It certainly is a Culture of Death, as Bl. Pope John Paul II coined the phrase, when only five apparent children between two mommies--children who were clean, neatly dressed, quiet, and very polite--are seen as driving one crazy instead of being a cause of societal pride and reason for a stranger to ruffle their hair in a friendly way.

Unfortunately, at the rally the microphone wasn't working, voices don't carry far outdoors anyway, and the street was being resurfaced a few feet away, so we stood as bodies present for a good cause, smelling the asphalt, and not hearing a word. (And, no, the children don't have a clue what the signs mean, they just love holding signs.)

We happened upon a festival downtown adjacent to the rally, so we treated the children to it afterward. This was one of those affairs where one exchanges money for plastic coins, which deludes the parent into forgetting how much money she is actually spending. We saw a bungee jump like the children had just done in San Francisco, so we two moms walked over with our brood of kids, asked how much it cost, the man told us, and we went to buy our coins. Then we went to the jumpy house, which turned out to cost something like $1.60 per child for 15 seconds of going from one end to another . . . one time. Mamas were not pleased. We had just enough coins remaining to do the bungee jumping, so we walked back over there only to be told, "Oh, sorry ma'am, children have to be 48" tall." Which, by quick glance, none of our children are. But he didn't think to tell us that when we asked him the cost. There were no more rides to be had, so we tried to return out coins for cash, but they were not reimbursable. Thus, out of desperation, we used up all our coins to buy pastries. Oh well, the kids still thought it was pretty neat.

Balloon artistry

We came home--kids napping on the drive--and I began to make dinner. Chris dashed out of his office to mention that it had been an incredibly stressful day and he hadn't had one moment to eat breakfast or lunch except for some chips out of a bag. I quickly thought how my plan to make frozen pizza for dinner wouldn't be very nice for him after his long day, so I scrambled to come up with a more filling meal plan and start cooking.

Unfortunately, this is when Mary began throwing a nuclear meltdown tantrum because John was watching a nature show about whales and she wanted to watch her own show on her own screen elsewhere. I draw the line at my various children each watching their own television shows in different rooms because they're so spoiled that getting the treat of watching a fabulous TV show together just isn't enough for them. Mary screamed bloody murder for forty minutes. I had to turn off the burners on the stove, put the baby on my back, and manage Mary in another part of the house because she was screaming so loud it was disturbing Chris' conference call. But I couldn't leave Mary because she can unlock bedroom doors and just kept coming out and screaming and throwing things. Nothing I did stopped the screaming. The only positives are that I maintained a calm exterior, a quiet voice, and I didn't give in, for whatever that was worth. And then, as fast as the tantrum exploded, Mary asked me calmly, "Mama, will you please lay down with me?" So I lay down with her and she was quiet and we kissed and she was all better. Will I one day understand children's tantrums? This remains a mystery.

This put me quite far behind in dinner, so I started anew. And this is when black clouds of smoke filled the kitchen as the main course burned (reminding me now that the charred remains are still out on the deck, a day later). That's when I sucked back some tears, found Chris and said, "I wave the domestic white flag. May we order pizza for dinner tonight?"

He was so nice and said 'yes' immediately.

After the kids were finally asleep, I then had to tackle that strawberry jam that started my day: it had not set! It was as fluid as water! I was invested at this point, so determined to try to see it to the end. I poured out all the jam, used a sieve to remove a lot of liquid, and boiled it down more, and added fresh pectin, so the ultimate number of jars was halved that of before. Also I decided to properly can the jam because of my limited freezer space, so I had to disinfect all the jars and use new lids. The whole reprocessing took two hours, which reminds me that I am very much a novice at jam-making and canning, that it's really complex, and the $5 cost for wholesome jam (without high fructose corn syrup) is well worth it.

And that was our Big Friday.