First Day of the School Year!

I am so lucky to be surrounded by smart, dedicated, organized, scheduled friends. If I wasn't, my kids, whom I insist that I will homeschool, would probably wander into college without ever officially having started a grade. A product of the uber organized, structured Seton Homeschool, I am finding myself secretly resisting having a homeschool schedule. Somehow we've arrived at this point in time with two healthy, fairly happy, mostly well-behaved children, but I highly doubt that it was due to my exceptional organizational skills. I suspect that there is a part of me that is unwilling to "settle down" and by resisting a rigid routine, I postpone the process of growing up. However, in the interests of "education," we tentatively made a little stab at education last year. Greta was 3 and Joseph was 2. I was 27, in case you were wondering. As grad school would have you believe, language and symbol are everything, so we didn't call it "school." It has all been a game up until now. I am the mommy cheerleader who is honestly flabbergasted by anything remotely letter-like that my 3 year old creates and we progressed slowly because we had to do a happy dance every time we counted successfully to 10. The upshot is that my kids persist in finding school "fun" and I dread the day when it will become something more serious.

As I wrote on Greta's folder today, she is 4 years old, today is 8.26.13, and I'm assuming she is somewhere between preschool and kindergarten. Right?? In the interests of tracking "milestones" (a clever mom whose child is starting preschool at a school-school told me about milestones and I've decided to adopt them), I thought I'd note what we already know and what we hope to accomplish this year.

G knows all the uppercase letter names and the first letter sounds.
She can sound out the first letter of any word and can name words that start with a given letter.
G can confidently write I, T, L, H, F, E.
She is learning X, A, M, N, W.

For math, she can count to 20 and she can identify 1 through 10. She is grasping the concept of adding and subtraction.

For religion, she can tell you who God is, Who made her, about guardian angels, about basic distinctions between good and evil, the Our Father, the Hail Mary, Glory Be, grace before meals, and the Angel of God prayer. 

This year, I hope that she will learn to identify lowercase letter names;
learn all the vowel sounds and the consonants that have more than one sound;
Be able to write all the uppercase letters.
Be about to count to 100 and know all the numbers between 1 and 20.
Do more adding and subtracting.

We're not following any particular curriculum or using any particular book. I like the abacus and using small objects to teach counting, adding and subtracting. I really love flash cards for number and letter recognition. For religion, we're using "My Jesus and I" and the Baltimore First Communion book. We also try to say the Rosary frequently and say graces before meals.

If you can think of anything else that would be a good idea to learn this year, or any other teaching strategies that worked for you, please share!

Les Miserables: Reflections and otherwise unrelated musings

So before launching out in a diatribe about the vices or virtues of a particular movie, book, or idea, I try to preface by stating my biases. Because everyone is biased, one way or the other, and the sooner you know a writer’s biases, the sooner you can take or leave what they are saying… or at least understand where they are coming from. Without further ado… I’m a literature snob. A cumulative six years studying Eng. Lit. will do that to you. And I’m boring in that I don’t like poetry. Which leads to my well-kept secret that I really don’t like musicals. My attitude as always been, “why spent ten minutes singing about something when you could say it in half a minute and move on with the story?” The other thing you need to know about me for the purpose of this story is that I usually resent it when American movie producers make a movie based on a book… particularly a book that qualifies as “literature.” This is why I love the BBC. Their productions of Dickens, Gaskell, or Trollope books are usually very close to the book. But look at the Lord of the Rings series. Peter Jackson had no business stealing Tolkien’s titles and characters and using them to write his own pre-teen action story. Plagiarism was cause for getting expelled when I was in college. Still with me? I promise, this is all leading to something soooo important that you will have to bear with me to read it. Finally, my last “issue” is that I think Hollywood is more or less going to hell in a handbasket. I mourn the good ol’ days of acting and producing that occurred way before I entered the world and idealize everything that’s in black and white and pre-1960. I think the acting has gone downhill, as well as the script writing, dialog, and the ability to produce movies that have more meaning than celebrating believing in yourself and self-expression. There are exceptions that may prove the rule, but let’s not fight over it because it’s just my opinion and we’re all entitled to one.

Ok! All that to say that the new Les Miserables with Anne Hathaway, Russell Crowe, and Hugh Jackman has severely altered all of the above pre-conceived notions.

When the opening scene opened with the men singing and pulling the boat into dry dock, my first thought was, “oh dear lord, it’s a musical. Please help me to stay awake.” By the time Fontaine was discharged from the factory, I was thoroughly engrossed. When Anne Hathaway started singing her solo, I knew this movie couldn’t be anything other than a musical because such perfection couldn’t be expressed in any medium other than music. God! I think el husband was converted to an Anne Hathaway fan last night. I’ve always loved her, but he’s a skeptic. But that scene where she sings “I dreamed a dream,” she became immortal. No one could forget that. It takes considerable talent to cry and talk articulately at the same time (believe me, I’ve tried it and it is not a form of self-expression of which I am proud), but to cry, use such a range of facial expressions, AND sing like an angel… it made me realize that the good ol’ days of Hollywood acting are far from gone. And did you notice that it was all shot in one scene? No re-do’s, no cuts… it was all one piece. After that scene, the movie just flowed for me. The singing became part of the experience and it was seamless. The music created the emotions one experiences throughout the movie. I think what sticks with me the most is how much expressions all the cast put into their singing. Usually, it’s singing or acting, but not both. But that many people, through so many scenes… and it holds together through the entire movie.

Movies based on a book. I’ve read Les Mis before and I’ve watched the Claire Danes version. Initially, I wanted to see the movie because all my friends recommend it and sadly, I was expecting to see yet another example of book-murder. Well, the movie did not follow the entire book story line. However, it’s one of the rare cases, I think, of where the movie can stand alone without the book and is a work of art independently of the book. What I really appreciated is that the movie stayed true and actually added to the religious theme of the book. Victor Hugo was not a Catholic, or if he was, he didn’t like the Catholic Church. Most of his books star bad Catholics, greedy priests, etc. Therefore, the scene with the priest at the beginning of the book is unusual for VH. My respect for the producer is even greater because Hollywood came out with a hugely successful movie that managed to avoid making priests and people with religious principles look weak, effeminate, or just plain undesirable. Instead, faith in God, belief in the goodness of man, in the truth of redemption and salvation, in mercy and meekness, in honesty, in self-sacrifice were shown to the most powerful elements in the world. This touched me particularly because as a Catholic and a person of faith, I’ve become jaded having to defend my faith or make excuses for it with regards to most books or movies. How refreshing to watch something that glorified the beliefs I hold dear and makes them an object of admiration rather than mockery.

My last point has nothing to do with anything I said in my intro (bad English major!!). But then, this isn’t graded. Of all the things, the part of the movie that affected me the most was the revolution part. I have to read up on my history to remember which revolution this was and what everyone was fighting about. Chances are, the rebels were people with whom I couldn’t sympathize on principle. But that’s not the point. What actually made me cry (just a tad) was thinking about the courage that is takes to fight and die for your beliefs, your cause. I’ve read quite a few articles recently that discussed how people and pop culture has become very tame in that they lack real causes. The main focus of these articles was the lack of (for lack of a better word!) balls in pop music today. Music used to express discontent with “the system” and people gravitated to and popularized the music because they believed in its message. I’m summarizing the article. My thoughts on this are not relevant. But the point was that people today lack causes. No one is really fighting for anything. Everyone is too comfortable (me including!) to get out and try to make a difference. Ok, if you volunteer at the pet shelter, don’t get mad at me. Good for you! There’s always the exception. And before anyone brings up “our troops” I will just say that there may be many fighting for “king, country, and free speech,” but for many, it’s a matter of economics and having a job. I admire and appreciate what they are doing in the same way I admire and appreciate anyone who holds a job that is “service oriented”… maybe a little more or less.

What really stirred me about the revolution scenes in Les Mis was the thought that at one point in time, people actually cared enough about an idea, a cause, a way of life, to put everything on the line and actually die for it. Giving up one’s life is the hardest thing to do, I think. I personally cannot think of anything I would actually die for, other than my kids. I’m being totally honest. I would certainly think more than twice if I had a choice between my life and my faith. This is because suffering for an idea, that there is something greater than life, is not a thought in the minds of most people today. Thomas Jefferson said something along the lines of “America needs a revolution every several years to keep people from becoming complacent.” This is more than just agitating society. It also keeps present in the minds of citizens that there is more to life than comforts, security, and safety. In my heart of hearts, I have no desire for civil unrest. I would like to go to my Maker one day without ever having experienced war. And I certainly rather deal with an ungodly government than see anything dangerous happen to my kids. I’m saying this in the interests of full disclosure so you don’t think I’m a pretentious b** anymore than you may already. (insert smiley face) Yet all this considered, or maybe because of it, I have an incredible amount of respect for people who are brave enough to die for a cause. God bless them!

If you haven’t seen Les Miserables yet, watch it!

Bucket List 2013

Every time the year rolls around, my thoughts always drift to the direction of things I would like to accomplish some day. I never really think "new year's resolutions" because to me, they are too short term and everything that I would like to accomplish in a given year are either out of my control or I'm already doing. Or they are things that I ought to do, but don't want to do badly enough. I would like to get pregnant this year, but I can't control that. I ought to quit smoking, but I don't want to at all. I'm already in shape and I'm not going to get more in shape just because I've put it on a to-do list.

So I think about things I aspire to someday. Maybe they'll happen. Maybe they won't. But one can dream, right?

Here's my most recent "bucket list":

• Have 5 children before I'm 40 years old. More is fine. Less is ok, I guess. 5 seems a reasonable number for a person of my health, personality, and vanity.
• Become a fitness model and a personal trainer. I would dearly love some pay off for how much time I spend working out and for the shape I've gotten myself in. 
• Be a lead singer and guitar player in a bluegrass/country band. As a subheading, it would be lovely to have an awesome voice some day. I mean, a really good voice!
• Travel and backpack in Europe for an extensive period of time. You know, stay in hostels, camp outside, stay in one place for awhile if I want, pass through if I don't. 
• Live on one of those calender-picture ranches in Wyoming or Montana for a long time, own horses, be alone, be quiet, be far away from everything.
• Live in a quaint New England town on a hobby farm near the ocean. 
• Write amusingly and thought-provokingly, a la Simcha Fischer. 
• Paint again... something evocative worth seeing. 
• Have a friend I could tell anything to, and be such a friend to someone. 
• Be loved by and be friends with all my children when they are grown up and I am old.
• Read the Bible front to back.
• Read enough philosophy, political writings, and literature to be able to discuss them and bring them up pertinently in random conversations. 
• Sleep out in the desert, see all the stars, wake up and hear the birds (are there birds in the desert?).

 As I reread this, it seems a rather self-centered list of heart's-desires. Well, so be it. I've already crossed off "wife," "mother,"which are two pretty people-serving goals. So I think I'm justified in dreaming dreams.

How about you? What's on your bucket list?

"Professional Development" and motherhood

When I was a kid, I used to envision myself as this perfectly happy, self-contained, self-confident, self-sacrificing mother, who devoted herself to her children and husband 24/7 and never uttered a word of complaint. My mom was like that (minus the perfectly happy part. I knew enough to see that she wasn't, and not until I was older did I realize that no one is), so I assumed I would be all she was and more. The "more" was that I wouldn't fight with my spouse and I would always take time to dress up and look lovely (think '50's housewife ;) ). Oh, and I would be completely patient with and understanding to my children. Conceited little cuss, wasn't I?

Immature, more likely. One thing that can't be avoided is getting older, and as one gets older, one lives longer, experiences more, and hopefully, learns more and modifies ones ideals and ideas accordingly. To me, maturity means the ability to understand and sympathize with other people because you've experienced something similar to their experiences, and if you haven't, you know that nothing is completely black and white.

So the point of this rambling introduction was that I've unconsciously found myself modifying one of my original visions of myself as a wife and mother. I used to be completely adamant that I was going to be a 100% stay at home. This was before I had kids. :) After I had kids, I started to think, "man, it's nice to get out of the house and dress up to go... to the grocery store." Over the course of having kids for 3 and a half years (yup, quite the ol' timer with this... ha!), my thinking has evolved to being such that in order to be a loving, patient, disciplined mother, I need an outlet of my own. I felt badly about this at first. Most of the mothers I aspired to be were always with their kids, so involved in their kids' activities, so dedicated, etc. Well, I now think that how you mother your children is as personal and individual as the things that make you happy. It's clique to say that everyone is different, but when it comes to being a mother, you have the freedom to do things as suits you and still fosters your children's well-being. One can't separate the fact that a happy, content mother is going to be more patient, more loving to her children. Sometimes, doing what is best for your kids simply means admitting your own weaknesses and doing what you can to assuage them. Think of the adjectives I used to describe my previous aspirations... "self-sacrificing," "self-confident," "self-contained," "self-effacing." It's self, self, and more self. It was about me giving and giving and disregarding my own needs and my personality. There is a place for the "self" virtues, but to a lesser person (such as myself), the temptation is to make yourself into some sort of victim. After awhile, the victim starts taking too much pride in her supposed virtue. I find it personally better to admit your weaknesses, be honest, and do your best to keep yourself happy so that you can better make the people around you happy. Happiness begets happiness.

So in the past years, I've held a few part-time, from home jobs. They were fun for the fact that they kept the intellectual, research-based, mental juices flowing, but didn't involve me leaving the house.

Until recently.... Within the past few months, I found myself presented with the opportunity to open an equestrian therapeutic riding center here in town. Totally out of the blue, so unexpected, and yet, in some funny way, providential. I've always had a heart for teaching. I don't care that I'm not the smartest, most well-read, most scholarly person. To be a good teacher, it's more important to know basics, be able to apply them logically, care about your students, and love what you are teaching. It also helps to have motivated students. This was why I had pursued an advanced English degree... if circumstances so permitted, I wanted to teach English at the college level. If there is one thing I enjoy more than reading, it is riding. I owned and rode horses all through my teenage and young adult years. I gave it up when I got married because there was no way to fit it into our semi-nomadic lifestyle... or lack of finances.

However, in this scenario, I'll be acquiring horses, training them, giving lessons to adults and children with behavioral health issues, and directing a program... and starting it entirely from scratch. There is nothing like it in this town, nor is there any ready-made facility to buy. My most recent activities have been finding suitable land and studying for the riding therapy certification. Between now and May when we open, we need to build a stable, find horses, get supplies, train volunteers, be in compliance with God-knows-what-yet, and complete the certification process.

I may rant in the next few months about being stressed, overworked, tired, a bad mother, a poor manager, but I certainly don't expect to write about being bored. :)

When you're not expecting...

This isn't going to be a very nice post, I'm afraid. I'm going to talk about a touchy subject and some people are bound to get offended. So take this as a preface. If you are offended or disagree with me, there's a 90% chance that you haven't been in this situation before. So just say a prayer for everyone else who has and move on. I'm writing this mostly because it's something I've dealt with in the past and am struggling with now. I suspect that I'm not the only person who feels this way, but I don't know many who are willing to admit it because it just doesn't sound nice.

When you are having a hard time getting pregnant, it is really hard to hear that other people are pregnant. Call it good ol' fashioned envy or jealousy, but it's the truth. When we first got married, I was all about having a honeymoon baby. For two years, we tried and tried, and during those two years, I heard from more and more of my newly wed friends about their pregnancies, their babies, their toddlers... and I still wasn't getting pregnant. The doctors couldn't tell me anything helpful, so we just dealt with it and that was that.

As the months went by, and then years, I began to wonder if I was a horrible person or something. Every time a friend posted their "we're expecting" news on Facebook, I had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep from crying. Then I'd say a prayer for their safe pregnancy... and "hide" the story so I didn't have to be reminded of my hurt. I began to hate myself because I thought it was awful that I could be so heartbroken at someone else's happiness.

Well, God eventually blessed us with Greta and eighteen months later, with Joseph. I thought my infertility days were behind me. I became honest-to-goodnessly happy when I heard someone was pregnant, delighted to see their boring sonogram pictures (because really, sonograms are only interesting to the parents and grandparents involved! :) ). What had changed? First of all, trying to conceive and not being able to conceive strikes at the heart of a woman's identity. We can try to gender-neutralize everything to our heart's content, but at the end of the day, the ability to become a mother is at the soul of being a woman. When you feel that you somehow are incapable of exercising this ability, it messes with you as a person. It can make you feel incomplete, like something is missing in you (I'm not talking about children; I'm talking about the ability to become pregnant if you so choose and are so blessed). I'm sure there is a deep, philosophical reason for all this, but that is my layman's explanation. When you feel the lack of something so vital to your identity, it can make you bitter. This, to me, explains why it was so hard for me to be happy when hearing about women who were pregnant when I couldn't get pregnant. This also explains why this feeling completely vanished after I had kids. By having children, I had satisfied that need to know I had the ability to have children.

But it's back! Before the miscarriage/ectopic pregnancy this summer, I'd been doing fine. Joseph had weaned himself, so we were thinking about getting pregnant, but it wasn't urgent. Then I got pregnant and lost the baby, all under rather traumatic circumstances. As a result of the ectopic pregnancy, one of my tubes was removed, which typically lessens one's fertility. Oh joy. For a woman who suffered from sub-par fertility to begin with, a diminution in fertility was just what I needed. (Sarcasm, my friends, sarcasm)

The next cycle of babies is starting up. On one hand, I've been so happy to hear the good news. And on the other hand, it makes me cry when I think too much about it. I'm not actually envious or jealous, which is defined as "sadness at the sight of another's goods and the immoderate desire to acquire them for oneself, even unjustly" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, #2539). I'm happy that you are pregnant and sad that I am not. I don't want your baby; I want my own baby. Does that make sense? 

So for all the lucky people blessed with an abundance of fertility.... Congratulations and all the rest. I'm praying for you, for an easy pregnancy, an easy delivery, and a happy and healthy baby. Just please have a heart for those who are trying to get pregnant and it isn't as easy for them. When you share the "big news" with us, do so gently. Don't be apologetic, but if you make it too much of a surprise, it may be harder for us to act completely delighted. We are happy for you, we want to hear all about your pregnancy and how you're feeling, but try to empathize with the feeling that your pregnancy is a very poignant reminder that we're not pregnant and are having trouble being so. This isn't to say don't talk about your pregnancy... that often makes things worse. Just be sensitive and say a prayer for us. If you've been where I am, you understand. If you haven't, pray for those less fortunate than you and be kind.

The virtue of faith

So... this blog is very much overdue for an update. But you should thank me for sparing you an earlier post. Because it would have read along the lines of "blah blah blah... complain, complain, complain some more... my life sucks... 'nobody knows the trouble I see, nobody knows'..." and so on and so forth. However, now that I've taken some time to "process" I can hopefully articulate a few thoughts without resorting to venting.

While most my FB buddies know this, here's a short recap of the summer. I got pregnant, my grandma died, we went to California for the funeral, I came back, found out I was miscarrying, found out it was an ectopic pregnancy, went to great lengths to ensure that the baby wasn't viable any longer, had surgery to remove the placenta, which was still growing although the baby had died earlier. And then we finished remodeling our house in town. And then we went and remodeled a house out of town and moved into it a month after my surgery. We decided to move out of town because our neighbors were troublesome as regards to our kids. There you have it - mid-June through mid-August. It's fall now and definitely feels like it. The summer was over before I was ever cognizant of the fact that there was a summer.

During my self-pitying moments, I find myself thinking that it's just as well that summer is over as I would never like to live through such a summer again. But if I am honest with myself, that isn't true. I "lost" a baby, medically speaking, but I've gained my own little angel. A couple weeks back, we were visiting at a friend's house, and our friend, Patrick, began talking about a homily that Fr. Kellar had given. The reading had been about how Jesus said that it was better that Judas (his disciple who betrayed him) "had never been born." This is a very harsh statement and could make one wonder if it were better that certain lives had never been lived, that certain people had never been born. Patrick went on to discuss how Fr. Kellar had explained that this Gospel should actually give us hope. The reason being that Jesus did not say "never existed"; He said "never born." This is actually a message of hope to parents of children who were never born, who only existed for a short time in the womb. For once a person is born, they have a whole lifetime of choices to make, some which will be good, and some which will not be good. A person who is born can choose to live their lives as a Mother Teresa or as another Hitler. This isn't to downplay the beauty of living life in this world, of growing up, of making choices, and all that goes into being a conscious adult. However, in the intervening time between now and when I lost my baby, I've given this loss a lot of thought.

What I've come to realize is that I didn't "loose" a baby. I have a baby. She just isn't here with me now, but she exists. When I find myself thinking that I wish I'd never had to go through the miscarriage and surgery, I catch myself now. It's not true. Because of that experience, I have another child. Granted, I'll never see her in this life, but she is as real and as present as Greta or Joseph. The major difference is that she will always be perfect. She will never hurt anyone, she will never experience pain, loss, or suffering, and she will never sin. In short, she has what I aspire to, what I hope to help bring my children to - union with God in heaven. Granted, this is a nice thought, but it doesn't mean that I'm not grieving, it doesn't mean that I don't still experience moments of indescribable sorrow at her passing, that I don't wish with all my heart and soul that in spite of this imperfect world, I wish she could have been born and that I could have held her and watched her grow as I do Greta and Joseph. I wanted to give birth to my baby. But that isn't how things worked out and nothing I can say, do, or wish will change that.

When I was miscarrying, I prayed so hard that I would be given the faith to pray for a miracle, that my baby wouldn't die. "Faith the size of a mustard seed" and all. I took to heart "Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find." When it was obvious that the baby had died, but that I would still have to have surgery, I prayed that the pregnancy would be reabsorbed and I wouldn't need surgery. Well, neither happened as I had asked. For the first time in my adult life, I was truly faced with a crisis of faith. If God said all of the above, why didn't He answer my prayer? How do you trust someone who doesn't do what they say they will do? I have God's grace and my English major background to thank for getting through. Those words, "ask and you shall receive" kept whirling around my frustrated mind. A practice from analyzing English literature came back to me. You read every single word as it is written. Don't interpret just yet, don't assume you understand the author's intent. Just read what is written. Sometimes the most insightful notions came out of this exercise in class. Read "literally." On its face value, "ask and you shall receive" is just that. Nowhere does it say that what you asked for is what you will receive. Ah ha! Where faith and hope come in is when you believe that what you received is actually what is best for you.

I've always thought that you can learn a lot about a person by their struggles/crosses. I truly believe that it is through difficulty that people become better people. If everything was always perfect, no one would ever have the chance to "rise to the occasion," to exercise virtue. "Building character" is only done when said character is being tested. God knows us better than we know ourselves. He allows us certain sufferings that are particular to our given characters; what we struggle with is tailor-made to our personalities. It is exactly what we need to become the best person we can be.

To tie this monologue together, I realize that it was a good thing for me to go through this difficult summer. I'm not sure how or why, but I trust that it was right. And I'm still here, not too much the worse for wear. I'm still recovering emotionally. I go through bouts of depression and anxiety often. I struggle to be loving to and patient with my husband and children. But when that happens, I pray to my little baby, Faith, and by God's grace, I muddle through.

Blogging... or The Art of Procrastination

The title pretty much sums up my post. I could stop here, but then, I'd have to get back to housework. Which would not be enough procrastination to justifying posting about it. So desperately drumming up an excuse not to do housework, I've decided to subject you to yet another post about little or nothing. My friend, Maria St.H (as she is in my books), just made me feel very much like I should impart more useful information by linking to my "smoothie making" post. But unfortunately, the domestic juices have been more or less on stand-by mode. In short, I've discovered nothing as of late that merits sharing.

I could vent, though. Patience is a truly terrible virtue. You only notice that you don't have it when you particularly need it. For a multitude of reasons, we've decided to sell our house and look for a cheaper one here in town. So the house chores I'm currently avoiding involve "tidying" the house. Now, as I've said before, there is generic tidying - most of us have done it at some forgotten time in life - where you stuff everything out of sight under the couch, the bed, in the closet. And then there's normal tidying, in which said tidy-er picks up daily messes and puts them away, more or less where they belong. Finally, there is "get ready to show your house to  judgmental strangers who might, in an off chance, pay you lots of money for the garbage container you call home." This, my friends, is a true nightmare. It takes on epic proportions when small children are involved. Because the epitome of children is their constant motion... which includes the motion of all objects in their reach.

All that said, I'm feeling terribly impatient. Because I want our house to sell now, so I can buy this dear, small house before someone else buys it... someone who surely won't appreciate it as I do. I've gone as far as planning where to put our furniture, what color curtains would be complement the walls, and how I will make more space in the kitchen. All of this, of course, is a recipe for frustration and impatience.

Being an incorrigible English major, I always visualize my posts with a beginning, middle, and conclusion. A conclusion necessarily involves resolution. Unfortunately in real life, there is rarely conclusion. Even the happiest of "happily ever after" tales close with a false conclusion. While you might think all is over when the princess rides off the the prince to the clouds, what you're doing is "willing a suspension of disbelief." That prince and princess are going to have kids and have to stay up all night with those kids. And they're going to fight and makeup, and do it again and again..... My apologies. This train of thought actually has nothing to do with what I meant to say... which was, that I currently don't have a resolution to my depressed line of thought. The house has to be de-cluttered, it has to be shown to judgmental potential buyers, and my little dream house will be sold before I can claim my own. It's ok. God works in funny ways and maybe this is a good time to work on the virtue of patience.

Long lost...

Sorry for the extended hiatus from blogging. I can tell my readership has dropped off. My fans are no longer clamouring for more :) It's a joke. I have little to no idea who my readership is, if there is one, and as for fans, I have two and their names are Greta and Joseph. Also, it's only fair to say that they are rather temperamental fans. One false move and they're yelling loudly for a new mother.

My latest occupation has consumed all my spare time. The editing business I started last year has kept me extremely busy since the start of this year. I like the work and I'm so grateful for all the business that has floated my way. My kids don't appreciate it nearly as much as I do, but I'm learning the careful balance of running a home business, keeping house, and raising small children. Emphasis on "learning."

Other than that, not much is new here. I actually wrote this post because I had two funny thoughts to share about Greta. She's going to love me so much for keeping this blog and recording all her bloopers when she gets older! So do you want to know a really creative, multi-tasking way of teaching your 2-almost-3 year old to count? She sits on my legs when I do sit-ups, and we count together to whatever number of sit-ups I need to do. This kills two birds with one stone... I have to do more sit-ups and she learns to count to a higher number. Of course, there are all those normal methods, such as counting beans, sticks, or whatever, but this is how we express our individuality ;) The only problem is that with this method, Greta may never learn to count higher than 50... nah... more like 30.

Greta's imagination has been affording me much amusement lately. She has a new thing... she wants to "talk" to me. Ever heard of the "love languages"? Well, Greta's is definitely "quality time." Specifically, she wants me to sit still, look at her (meaning, I can't take a nap while we "talk"), and ask questions or answer them. Here's an example:

G: Mommy, I want to talk.
M: Ok, Greta. What do you want to talk about?
G: Let's talk about... chickens!
M: Ok. Mommy chickens say "bak bak bak." Daddy chickens say "cockadoodledoo." Baby chickens say "cheep cheep." And they flap their wings and run around. Can you flap your wings and run around?
Greta runs around, arms waving, cheeping furiously. Mommy closes her eyes and rests. Greta comes back from her flight.
G: Mommy, you have to open yours eyes. [no response] MOMMY YOU HAVE TO OPEN YOURS EYES! [one eye opens] MOMMY, I WANT TO TALK.
M: sighs... Ok.
G: I have a mouse friend.
M: Can you catch me a mouse? [thinking, this will keep her busy. Wrong. Apparently, imaginary mice are very easy to catch. Greta brings me the mouse]
G: Here is yours mouse, Mommy.
M: Oh thank you, Greta. Oh NOOO! These goes the mouse! He ran away! I think I see him in the kitchen. [Greta runs off in pursuit of said mouse. Mommy closes her eyes. All too soon Greta returns with the "mouse." But it is a wily mouse and soon disappears behind the curtains, under the couch, on the table...]

It is only fair to mention that our topics of conversation are set. Greta will talk about chickens, about living in New Mexico (yes, that's one), about her birthday party (May 19th!), and I think that's it, so far. 

And this is how we pass the afternoon until Joseph wakes up.

Low-Carb Chocolate Coconut Scones

I'm putting this here more for my own records because Josh liked them so much that he doesn't want me to forget the recipe.

1 cup coconut flour

1 cup flax seed, ground

1 tbsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

¾ to ½ cup xylitol sugar

½ cup coconut oil

5 or 6 eggs

½ cup shredded coconut

½ cup coconut milk (use your judgment)

1 cup kefir (same)

chocolate chips

vanilla

Combine all ingredients and mix until the consistency is fluffy, moist, and thick. Flatten all the dough in a circle on a large cookie sheet, about 1/2 inch high. Bake at 375 until top and edges are browned.

Healthy Cheesecake

Normally, you might not think that the two - "health" and "cheesecake" - could go together. But if you are of the mindset that its carbs, not fat, that make people fat, cheesecake is your dessert of choice. Of course, when you buy it at a resturant, it's junked up with sugar. However, when you make it at home and follow this recipe, you won't be disappointed.

Filling:
1 tub (16 oz.) cream cheese (not the low fat stuff)
1 tub (15 oz) ricotta cheese (not low fat)
4 eggs
about 1/2 cup sugar (I use turbinado)
2 heaping tsps of flour
dash of salt, or two
1 tsp vanilla extract
zest from 1 lemon and a splash of lemon juice

Crust:
1 cup ground flax seeds
1 cup ground or crushed walnuts
1 stick of butter or 1/2 cup coconut oil
sprinkle sugar to taste

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350
Combine crust ingredients and pat them flat in a cheesecake pan, or a traditional pie pan (if you don't like the consistency, add more flax)
Bake pie crust for 15 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool
Combine pie ingredients. Make sure to use softened/room temp cream cheese and ricotta. Blend all ingredients until smooth.
Pour pie filling into pie crust
Bake for one hour at 350
Pie is done when the top is slightly brown and the center wiggles a little when you move it.
Let cool and serve cold from the refrigerator. 

You can also make a lovely topping for this with berries... I'm serving this for Valentines Day with a sauce of blackberries boiled in a bit of sugar, flour, and lemon juice.

"You have to pick your battles": Or, What chores to give up on as a mom

So I've been thinking that there are certain chores rendered pointless by the presence of small wild animals children in the house. On the top of my list are:

• Cleaning full sized mirrors. It's ok to clean the top 4 feet, but its better to leave the 2 or 3 feet closest to the ground covered in mini hand prints. Something about a clean mirror attracts little paws.
• Organizing the bottom kitchen cabinets. Or putting anything valuable or breakable in them. This is indeed a "pick your battle" situation. Do you want your kid running around, screaming, while you are making dinner, or is it just easier to open that treasure chest Tupperware cabinet and let them go wild?
• Folding any clothes in your kids' drawers. Maybe you are blessed with children who appreciated folded clothes, or maybe you are fortunate to live in a climate where children can go around naked. Neither applies to me. My kids love to empty their clothes drawers. Folding clothes is an exercise in futility in my house.

However, certain chores I have doubled up on since having children. These are easy to list because I do these chores ALL DAY LONG. Not kidding about that.

• Sweeping the floors. Omg, oh my freakin' gosh... I sweep floors all day. Between bread crumbs, chewed up apple peels, milk splatters, I have my vocation cut out for me. The best job prep for being a mom is to have worked custodial in a previous life.
• Picking up toys. Again, unless I want to twist an ankle or break a leg, I have to pick up toys all day long.
• Neatly organizing books on the bottom two shelves. It's an attractive nuisance. Something about "order" prompts my kids to induce instant disorder. So those two shelves are disproportionately empty in my house.
• Keeping the bathroom door shut and the toilet seat down. Joseph has a toilet fetish. I mean, he is obsessed with toilets. And everything that goes in them. And anything he can put in them. I'm sick of fishing him out of the toilet. So out of self-preservation, I've become very good at bathroom etiquette.

I know some of you older and wiser moms are going to suggest that I get my kids to help me. Don't worry! I do. But they are 1 and 2 and there's only so much you can do at that age. How about you? What chores in your house are a loosing battle, and what chores are a daily staple?

Easy, stay-at-home workout

I promised to post doable, family-friendly, time-is-precious workout ideas quite awhile ago. Well, as you can see, it didn't happen because I forgot :)

But between writing up index entries for my latest editing project, I find myself taking a break to move around and work in a few, quick exercises. They're really simple exercises, but great for clearing your head, waking up, or getting your heart rate up.  All the normal disclaimers go along with this. Use common sense. Don't try any of these if you just had a baby, if you're in crutches, or if you're in ridiculously good shape ;)

Easy as 1, 2, 3 circuit

Stretch - First, do a few stretches (your choice) to warm up your arms and chest.
Push-ups - Next, using proper form (suck your stomach in, tighten your legs, keep your butt on level with your back, dropping down so that your arms make an L), do as many push-ups as you can in a minute. That can be 2 or 50, depending your fitness level. If you can't do them on your toes, drop to your knees.
Crunches - Work your abs. You can do leg raises, bicycle crunches, or sit-ups. Again, do as many as you can. Do it until your abs hurt. Try to keep it up for at least 1 minute. It takes a lot more movement to tire out your abs.
Cardio - Your choice. For 1 minute, do high knees, jump rope, jumping jacks, butt kicks, running in place, or some combination thereof (listed in order of difficulty). It's hardest if you stick to one move for the whole minute. Don't cheat and stop during that minute. 
Take a minute break to stretch and move around. Then repeat the circuit at least one more time, and then as many times as you feel like (or don't!).

missed me?

Haha! "How can I miss you if you never go away?" So says my dear husband to me on occasion. Well, I've been busy. My kids are getting bigger and naughtier, my editing business has been keeping me occupied, and what would happen to Facebook if I wasn't there to monitor it? Anyway, there you have it.

But I wrote a guest post for Natures Dose, an excellent, whole food blog run by a friend of mine. Check it out and be sure to read her other articles about whole food supplements, B Vitamins and much more. Here it is! http://www.naturesdose.com/natural-beauty-solutions-from-your-kitchen/

Falling off the wagon

Well, I certainly have fallen off the proverbial blogging wagon. Everything is fine, nothing life changing or catastrophic has occurred. I just got busier than usual and unfortunately, when you take a break from blogging, it's hard to get back to it. Kind of like when you don't talk to a friend for awhile and then there's that awkward, "getting to know you" again stage. But the longer you put it off, the harder it is to start.

So let's play catch up. First the kids. Greta is 2 and a half now. She talks more than ever and she never misses a thing. Words can't describe her and I'm too tired right now to try harder :) Joseph will be one year old next month. He just started walking this week and it's my prediction that he will never stop moving once he really gets going. He is such a tough, happy-go-lucky character. And he loves his mommy. His mommy loves him... except during those three times a night when he insists in waking up to nurse. I'm often as tired as I was when I had a newborn. Please God that this will end soon.

As for myself... well, I traveled a lot in October. Went with some friends to their "cabin" (if that place was a cabin, our house is a trash can) in Colorado. Just for the record, that is a very beautiful state! Then we went to Phoenix for a weekend with my mom, who'd come out to visit for a week. I flew home to Ohio with my mom and the kids. Ohio was lovely... exactly as I left it. Cold, grey, rainy, and I felt so at home in it. Seeing my siblings again was a treat. What I really miss about living far away from family is how much your family loves your children and how much joy you, as a parent, get from seeing your children loved as no one else could love them. After two weeks, I flew back with my dad and the babies. Words fail when I want to talk about how much I detest flying with the kids. Needless to say, we survived and had a delightful, but short visit with my dad here in NM. He left on Monday and I've been trying to get back to normal for the past week. It's odd how two weeks away from your husband will leave you with a period of adjustment... of getting used to each other again. I missed him. But he used wisely our time away and did lots of work on the house.

In my spare time (say, what?), I've been starting an online editing business. It's been fun to get back to the academic field. I edit college papers, some scholarly work from grad school acquaintances, and books from colleagues and former professors. Check it out if you're interested. MRS Editing

That's about it, friends. Show some love so I have more encouragement to keep this up :)

Coming soon!!

No, not a new baby... yet!

So. For you avid follower who was so concerned about my lack of sleep. Thank you. I'm happy to tell you I have a solution. Not a great one. But creative... at least, as creative as a sleep-deprived mother of two little children can be.

You've heard, "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em?" That's what I'm going to do. I have a scheme (worked for 2 days so far) that pumps me up with as much adrenaline as my bouncy morning children (who are not so bouncy or joyful any other time of the day. Want to be awake to appreciate their over-abundance of zeal at the prospect of a new day).

Interested yet? First of all, credit where credit is due. This isn't an original idea. I got part of it from my highly motivated mom friends who wake up early and do things before their kids take over. I admire and respect that. But somehow, it doesn't work for me. I want to sleep, dammit! But if I have to be awake, I don't want to feel like absolute crap, as I do most days.

Ok, here it is. After a two day trial period, I found that I can speed up the waking up process by at least 2 hours if I do 5 minutes worth of some cardio exercise before breakfast. Just 5 minutes! Greta loves it. "Work out, Mamma?" as she stuffs her breakfast in her mouth. Joseph is highly intrigued by the sight of his pajama-ed Mamma jumping around, as he does his best to provide her with an obstacle course.

Once I set a date with my videographer (husband), I will put together my routine. It's made up of 10 easy, uncomplicated moves that you do for 30 seconds each. I'll do a few stretches for a minute or two, and then start the circuit. It definitely gets your heart rate up, maybe break a tiny sweat, but no doubt about it, you WILL be awake after this! 5 minutes... your coffee takes that long to brew. It's so worth it.

So check back later for the list of exercises and how to do them.

My baby has regressed

Dear Joseph! He really is quite a kid. He's nine months old now and just an adorable child. He has a big, full-faced grin that lights up a room. He has twinkly hazel eyes and curly lashes. His hair has the dearest way of growing in wisps over his forehead. His chin is as prominent as his nose. While I call Greta a "sturdy girl," I call Joseph a "wiry boy." He is longer and much thinner than Greta ever was, but he is strong. So strong! If he's not pulling himself up on something, he's pulling something down. And he's fast. He comes at you across the floor like a bulldozer, ready to take on anything in his path.

In anyone else's world, I'm sure he would rank as an "easy baby." From 0 to 8 months, he really was. Just a happy, loveable, contented little soul. But something's gotten into him recently. Perhaps it's because I'm so tired to begin with and because my attention is divided between two babies, but I've found myself so angry and frustrated with Joseph. He's stopped sleeping well at night.

He acts like a newborn... from what other people tell me. I was blessed with two very good newborns so I'm spoiled. But he is up several times a night to nurse and I'm having the hardest time falling back to sleep while he's nursing. I'm pretty sure Greta did something similar, but the key difference is that Greta would sleep indefinitely as long as I was nursing her. So we'd sleep in until 9 or 10 am. Not Joseph! He could audition to be someone's rooster based on how punctually he wakes up and crows. By 6:30 am, he is up. Not just up, but up and ready to play. It infuriates him to no end if his parents (what else are they supposed to be doing?) are not up and moving about or playing with him. We've tried a lot of things. But he's a smart kid (did I mention that?) and knows when he is being thwarted. If we put him on the floor to play in his toybox, he pulls on the sheets of the bed and yells until someone picks him up. If he was a dog, I'd give him away at that point. Fortunately for him, he isn't. His latest stunt is to stand on our pillows (or heads) and look out the bedroom window, which is at the head of the bed. He LOVES that window. He yells at the neighbors, the trees, whathaveyou for minutes at a time.

Any ideas? I need more sleep. The lack thereof is making me hate my life.

Movie Review: Yanks

Another WWII movie. I'm rather on a WWII-themed-movie-with-girls-no-fighting kick. This one is about American soldiers (Yanks) stationed in England prior to being deployed to fighting on the continent. It follows roughly two romantic interests between American soldiers and English women. The one story of Vanessa Redgrave and William Devane was so-so. God! William Devane is one ugly SOB and he practically ruined the movie for me. I almost had to look away when he showed up or worse yet, opened his mouth to start romancing Vanessa Redgrave. Men that ugly should not be cast in romantic roles. It wasn't just his looks that I had against him. I disliked him for his home-wrecking abilities and his overall "skeeziness" of character. What lovely Vanessa Redgrave saw in him, I have no idea.

The other couple was Robert Gere and Lisa Eichorn. Adorable. She is SO gosh-darn lovely. I want to look like that when I grow up. Their relationship was much more edifying.

Overall, it was a pretty sappy, slow-paced movie with very little to stir the mind. However, it was a good story for a tired evening and the acting was pretty decent. With the exception of William Devane. Lord spare me another movie starring him! Unless he's the villain who dies early on.

Movie Review: The War Bride

This Canadian made movie really stuck in my mind. Set during WWII, it chronicles the story of a Canadian soldier who meets and marries an English girl. She gets pregnant. When he is sent abroad to fight, she goes to Canada along with all the other English "war brides" for safe-keeping. She ends up out on a prarie in Alberta. Her in-laws don't like her, but she keeps up her spirit and suffers through.

I liked this movie. The main actress was really good. She is kind of person I might like to meet sometime. It isn't a fast-paced movie or particularly stirring. But it was at the level of an intelligent chick flick.

My online book review

This was part of why I started a blog. I read constantly and I wish I remembered half of what I read. I would like to use some of the information I garner from reading in my future home-schooling pursuits, so with that in mind, I want to write a short synopsis or review of each book I read. These are going to be pretty rough and blunt because it's more for my records than for my readers' edification. Read on at your own risk! :)

Four Stories by Sigrid Undset

Writing in the early half on the 20th century, Sigrid Undset is a Norwegian author most famous for "Kristen Laveransdatter" (or so she was at my college). Her stories deal much with Catholicism in the world as exemplified in peoples' lives. Her portrayal of a life with faith is neither saccharine nor idealistic. In fact, it is often painfully realistic.


Four Stories is collection of 4 of her short stories set in modern times. The themes deal with loneliness in the single life, notions of home and children, the strange relations between men and women, and the futile hopes and aspirations of the average person. Really, they are rather depressing. But very poignant and thought-provoking. Reading them, you truly realize that every person is a mystery both to themselves and to those around them.

I would reread this.