I've been doing quite a bit of reflection recently. Life changes will have that effect.  I'm not the person I was a year ago.  There's a metamorphosis occurring.  For better or for not I don't know yet.  There are days that I feel so distant from who I was that it hurts.  I miss what I thought my life was. But it was an illusion and I'm rebuilding, reforming, making new connections, while trying to sort the best from my old life and retain them.  The instability leaves me falling occasionally. But I am strong and I recover.  One of the greatest discoveries I've made about myself in the last few years is just how strong I am.  No matter how many times I get knocked down I will get up again.
This past week has been one of those times.  But I set a new path for myself and my family.  Things I had put off for ridiculous reasons I have started on and will see them come to fruition in a few short months. I just need to keep my head down and ass up and I'll have it made. One thing that has not changed about me: if there is something that needs doing, there's no time like now to get started.  I only wish it was yesterday...

Suffering

I spent the weekend in (mostly) silence.  Silence is something I think that we could all agree there is very little of in our world.  For the most part we’re not very comfortable with it but that’s for another day’s pontificating.

I thought a lot about suffering.  Recently a friend told me that after his mom died someone said that it was God’s will.  I wish that I’d been able to give him a more satisfactory answer than “I’m sorry”.  I am sorry.  Sorry that he lost his mom all too early, sorry that someone said that to him.  People say thoughtless things in uncomfortable situations and it doesn’t get much more uncomfortable than death.  I’ve heard many hurtful thoughtless things said to me in times of trial/loss but to put it in balance I have also said stupid things.  The reason I think it’s thoughtless to say it’s God’s will for someone to die is because it makes it sound like God wants us to hurt.  He doesn’t.  He hurts right along with us.  Our sorrow is His as well.  He loves us so much and thinks of each of us with such deep affection that we can’t even fathom that love or thought.  Unfortunately sometimes bad things do happen. And sometimes He has to allow them to happen and while He doesn’t want it to happen He will allow good to come from it.  Suffering is when we grow.  Suffering defines us and tempers us as a hot flame tempers steel.  A good parent will allow a beloved child to “learn things the hard way” from time to time.  Do we love our children less?  No of course not. But in order to grow one must fall periodically.  I have had my share of loss.  I have dealt with things that no child should have to.  I can choose to be angry at God, to be a victim.  Or I can choose to grow and develop into the person I am meant to be.  These are the sufferings that have contributed to who I am now.  I am passionate and empathetic, I am hopeful and joyful.  Who would I be without these sorrows? Probably not me. So my friend I wish I had given you a better answer at the time, but here it is now.

September

So here she is: September a month of fresh beginnings.  Everything starts up again and I've been feeling a bit panicked by it all. I usually welcome September.  I love the smells and feeling of autumn, the crispness, the colours.  The fresh school supplies and curriculum generally excite me.  Not this year.  I'm just tired and feeling overwhelmed by all of the expectations everyone has of me.  I'm not supposed to feel this way.  I'm supposed to be "amazing" because I have six kids AND I homeschool.  I am not amazing.  I am not a saint.  I'm just a mom trying to be the best mom I can and I fall short all of the time. I love my family passionately and enjoy being with them, but it feels like something is going to snap and it might be my sanity. I'm torn between what I think my family needs and what I feel I can actually give. And still I will plug on...

Midsummer Pity Party

I think for the most part I am a positive person.  It always comes as a shock to me when someone is mean.  I feel blindsided, naive and a little stupid.  Stupid as in "how did I not see that coming" stupid.  And it taints things.  It's similar to have a handful of fresh raspberries and there's one in there that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.  And that's how I am feeling about people right now.  I don't understand being nice to someone, while really you're simmering below.  I cannot do that.  I am always civil but that is the extent of it.  I cannot pretend to like someone.  Junior high was a long time ago for me, and I can do nicely without the drama. So now I feel bruised and confused and unable to trust.
I also don't understand why I care.  Why should it matter?  Why isn't Jesus enough for me?  Why do I need other people's acceptance?  Oh and I miss my mom right now.  Maybe our relationship was too dependant, but I always felt accepted and loved and never so lonely when Mom was around. I just miss her so much.  The expression that time heals is a lie.  It dulls the pain because you can't live in that extreme for too long, but the hurt is still there waiting to erupt like a festering sore.  Again, why can't I just be happy for her?  Too selfish I expect.
Toddlers always help with loneliness.  They are always ready with a hug and a cuddle.

Summer Days

So  here we are again the midst of summer days.  It's been a wet summer with few truly nice days so when those precious few nice days happen the children are outside.  Mark loves the outdoors, but unfortunately the outdoors is not very kind to him.  The mosquitoes this year are atrocious and their favourite food is Markie who is very allergic to him.  Everyone else can be outside the same time as him and they'll end up with a bite here and there while is literally covered.
Change is in the air and it hangs heavily right now.  The uncertainties are daunting so I just keep giving them to God and then taking them back again.
Becca just had her "big" birthday and is at camp as a junior leader.
VBS is next week and then a week of holidays - maybe.  More uncertainties.  And another birthday.

Markisms

The older children have a fun game in which they ask Mark to repeat ridiculously long words.  He's quite capable and at 2 is extremely articulate.  For the most part he uses words in the correct context. Becca asked him one day to say "paleontologist" and so he did.  I asked him what paleontologists do and he responded "eat my brains".  I think I can chalk that up to older sibling's obsession with the Plants vs. Zombies game.

Lenten Reflections

Lent is hard.  Of course it is.  It's meant to be.  I mean that I never feel like I've done enough.  I never feel fully prepared for Easter.  I start out with wonderful plans, but invariably something intervenes with those.  I believe that God chooses Lent for us sometimes.
This year I am praying for a conversion of heart.  I want to desire Christ more, to thirst for Him in the Eucharist and in prayer.  Many of our annual practices haven't been employed this year.  I'm just going day by day and hoping for more kindness in our house amongst children.  I'm hoping for more prayer and more love.
On a practical level of sacrifice we're all going without Pepsi, Nestle and Cadbury products.  This sacrifice looks like it'll be an ongoing one until they change research practices.

Time lost

It has been so long since I last posted.  I regret that.  There's been so many little things that will probably be lost because I didn't record them.  Things like Katie starting to scooch (I think it's been 1 1/2 months).  She puts both legs to one side and then pushes.  She then alternates sides.  It's not the fastest means of locomotion, but it works for her.
Things like Mark calling hamburgers "hamburgergers", which he no longer does.  His language skills are amazing.  He speaks so clearly and has such a large vocabulary.  Frequently he'll accuse the inanimate of calling him an "idiot" or a "dum-dum".  He will also inform people that he has the right to do something  because "Mama said so", that doesn't work with me so he'll change it to "Patrick said so" or less often "Daddy said so".  He's only two.
We've all had birthdays except for Katie.  Becca bakes our bread.  We went to Fort MacLeod for holidays this year in a TENT.  That is such an act of penance for me, let me tell you.  It was so cold at night in the middle of August and Katie is still not sleeping through the night, so I would have to get up with her.  Yuck.  But the historic sites we visited were great.  We also spent time in and around Innisfail, where we went to Markerville Creamery and Stepphanson House.  And of course we spent time in Medicine Hat.
I have canned and canned until I have no jars left and no space left in my cold room.
We planted and harvested our garden.  It was a cold, wet summer, so things didn't grow as they normally would.  Our potatoes are few, but our raspberries were many.  Our roses did amazingly well.  It seems that they really like water.  Who knew?
That is just a smattering of all that has happened in the last few months.  I'm hoping to stay more on top of things now.
By the way, I passed my course.  83%.  But there was sweat involved, I assure you.  It is sad how one's brain atrophies if not put to proper use.

Funny, Is It?

Tonight at Mass, Patrick served. There were servers on either side. Matthew pointed out that he was "surrounded" (sawounded)

Later at the store, an announcement ended with "Thank you". Matthew looked up and sweetly said, "you're welcome."

Mark's newest word is "sorry". He'll hit you and immediately it's followed with a look of contrition and a sorrowful "sorry".

Today I cut hair. I had one request for a Mohawk, one for a "Luke Skywalker" hair-do and a repetitious litany of "you done now? all done, Mama?"

Mattyisms

I'm just rockin' through "Great Expectations". I'm almost done at a booming 50 pages per day. Yikes!

Anyhoo, this is what's amusing me today:

Matty: "Can I hold Katie? I gave her my hiccups."

Ohh, something that has put me a bit behind on reading is the arrival of my new...

drum roll... please...

iPod Touch!!!

So much fun. So far I've put on iMissal, some music and a grocery app. The app store is just like the proverbial candy store, and I'm trying to be prudent in my purchases.

Something that should be helping my reading schedule is this ugly bug that's sweeping the bigger people in our house and the fact our van is un-driveable.

Tomorrow we are implementing a new schedule for school and life. I have great hopes for a rhythm in our home.

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I Should be Reading, but...

It would seem I'm doing everything but reading. This is totally out of character. The material in question that I should be reading is Great Expectations. Truly I could work up my own emotions of depression, without the help of Mr. Dickens. But it is part of THE COURSE, so read it I must. Just not right now ;).
So instead I will blog about things I'm thinking and pondering:
Katherine is sooo beautiful, especially when she smiles.
Toddlers are very cute, especially when they say "buh bye".
Pre-schoolers are very sweet when they insist that you forgot to "kees" them.
Older children provide entertainment too. A conversation overheard:
Boy child 1(disgustedly): "Mom gave me girl socks". (Much disdain in the word "girl")
Boy child 2: "Don't worry. No one can see through your boots unless they have x-ray vision and we don't."
Boy child 1: "You're right."
Another social disaster averted by boy logic. Words cannot express how grateful I am that no one has x-ray vision around here. That would be very complicated.
Science:
Boy child 1: "Why did God even make snot?"
Boy child 2: when asked to think about possible reasons: "It's extra water that makes us pee more."
Me: "Huh?!?"
It seems there's some work to do.

And now onwards and upwards into the bleak world that is Great Expectations.

Merry Christmas

So here we are. After an Advent that feels like it didn't really prepare me. Not that I'm blaming Advent. It was circumstances and my state in life right now. God knows. While praying before Mass last night - interrupted prayer: "sit down; please get off the baby; oh, baby are you alright?; etc"- Baby Jesus gave me such a consoling gift. It truly and really doesn't matter what I got done, or didn't get done. It's not about me. Why can I not remember that? It's about Him and his generosity in coming every year, no matter what. Thank you Jesus. Thank you for this crazy hectic life, that leaves me gasping for air at moments and laughing hysterically the next. Thank you for this man you've given me in sacramental marriage. None of it perfect, all of it good. Help me to remember that it's ALL good.

We went to the Vigil Mass. Not our first choice. We'd prefer to go to Christmas morning Mass, but family obligations don't permit that at this point. It is a very crowded Mass, which is good, but distracting for little ones. There was a family we didn't recognize (they may just be regulars who sit on the other side of the church. I swear we'd see a whole new parish if we but only sat on the other side occasionally.) sitting kitty-corner from us. They were laughing their heads off at us and the antics of our little ones. Mark especially provided some fine entertainment. His favorite word right now is no, which has many different meanings and inflections. At one point he wanted his coat, so Justin tried to help him, but help he did not want. "No, no, no" he said sweetly, but determinedly, while backing away and ended up falling backwards on his bottom.

We had passed Katie off right away so that we could focus on Matthew and Mark and at mid-point of the Mass, Mark seemed to realise that she was missing. He picked up the car seat and looked under it, around it and in it. He looked around the immediate vicinity. So he looked a bit further. He spotted one of our friends who has a baby who is a month older than Katie. He decided that was Katie, but he was too shy to go get her back, so he just stared suspiciously.

Anyway, here's a couple of little Turnerisms:

Rebecca: "I think the best thing about cooking the turkey is the stuffing... after the meat, of course".

Mark (16 months): loud scream followed by "shhh".

Alexander when asked if Santa Claus was coming: "Actually, I don't believe in Santa Claus. I believe in St. Nicholas".

No Squeaks Here

We have a hard and fast rule (again with the English language. Just what does that mean exactly?) The bathroom door MUST be closed and the light must be shut off. Otherwise the toddler and preschooler have a tendency to do things that should not be done. Things like this: sticking hands up to their little wrists in Aquaphor and applying to hair, clothing, cabinetry, floors, each other and of course eating it. Aquaphor is a staple in this household. It works so well for Eczema (which our poor sweet Katie is suffering) and for dry lips. It seems to be an amazing hair product. Multiple washings made not a dent in the greaser look our two boys were sporting. Maybe they should have leather jackets too? We will see how it works to keep all systems flowing. I can't even imagine.

The Gift of Christmas

This is the last Sunday of Advent. This prepatory season has flashed by, quicker even than it normally does. I think the biggest and most obvious reason for this is the birth of Katie. It is hard to sit back and just accept that this Advent, normal is not normal. That there are things that just won't happen this year. And.that's.okay. It is. Really. Breath in, breath out. It's okay.

This is the season of our lives and we just need to enjoy this beautiful gift that God has blessed us with, so close to His own birth. And she is a gift. It is this graciousness, mercy and generosity of our Lord that I meditate on. Here is this amazing little person, who smiles at us with great simple joy. How can I not be grateful? I don't know when God will decide that's it - no more little souls will come our way. But for now He has sent us one more precious child and I am so happy to delight in her and in our God's love for all of us.

These thoughts lead me to think and ponder the birth of Jesus. The hardships, the joys and hopes that sprung from one small human, who was divine, but who knew? There was so much faith required by everyone, including Herod. Herod who heard and believed in the majesty of the small boy, but he denied and misunderstood that lordship. He believed enough to kill who knows how many little boys to protect his earthly throne. Mary and Joseph who were told by an Angel and they believed. It would have been so much simpler to pretend those visitations didn't happen. But they believed. The magi who by faith of their sciences travelled so far to worship a small boy, who was obviously poor. Today's scientists would probably scoff. This can't be right. But their faith was pure. And the saints who followed them imitate that faith. It is a long line of faith, that we are called to imitate. This is our heritage.

Advent Lite

Less filling?Despite my best efforts/intentions, our Advent has been very pared down. St. Nicholas did come, although he was late. He brought chocolate coins, Jelly Belly beans, St. Anne medals, and Night at the Museum 2. As well he picked up the letters that the children wrote to the Christ child. So cute, the things they say. Xander wrote something about St. Nicholas bringing Easter eggs. Some theology and liturgical calendar study needs to happen me thinks.

May the Souls of the Faithful

Mr. H went home last Friday. His funeral was Monday. It was a testimony to a life well lived and a death well anticipated. He was prepared. He was ready. So was his family. That's not to say that they're happy he's gone. Maybe a little bit for his sake, but they miss him. But this is a story of hope, of knowing where he is gone to. This family truly believes and there's no despair. But there is sadness. This man lived for his family. He was married to his best friend for 52 years. Together they had 7 children and 26 grandchildren. These children have a wonderful role model to follow.

He was a shy man and I didn't really know him that well. But I know his example. I have watched the loving way in which he and his wife have served quietly and well. How generous he was and how this family has warmly drawn me to them time and time again. And it's what I want for my family. It's not what we have, but it is something to aspire to. And that is why God gives us the saints and saintly around us. To know good and to be attracted to it. To desire it and to move towards it, always looking to perfect love, as a response to that perfect love. To know that it is possible. There is so much to meditate on. Pray for us Mr. H.

Kidisms from the past week

A small sampling of things we hear:

"Dad, has Katie had her V.D. yet today?" (Vitamin D)

Child drying garlic press, "Where does the nut smasher go?"

Toddler who learnt bouncing on the couch can leave one with a goose egg on the noggin, "I going down stairs. I won't hurt myself. Weally I won't."

Toddler out for revenge, "I go beat Xander." And he heads joyfully for the dining room.

All Hail

After a long day of anxiety driven labour fueled by induction and lack of control, Katherine Isabelle Rose was born at 3:11. She is a benevolent little princess, who rules her kingdom with docility and sleepy eyes. Her courtiers are slaves at her feet(figuratively speaking of course) and plead to hold her (great reward for school work well done). She is so beautiful and we all adore her. Her languid movements and little squeaks make my heart swell. Who would think that a 6th baby could still be such poetry. She's not prosy at all.

Proof!

I'd forgotten about this. When Alexander was 3 or 4 I took him to the speech pathologist(a lovely and helpful lady) for assessment, where she showed him pictures and he told her what he saw. One of the cards was of a person ironing. I absolutely detest ironing and only do it for say, baptisms, weddings or sewing. All rare occasions. So, there I am shaking my head at the speech pathologist and she's insisting he answer with something, while he clearly has not a clue as to what's happening in this picture. His guess? "He's mowing his clothes". And there you have it folks, proof positive that I am not a housekeeper.