living Lent cheerfully

No, I didn't go on an Internet fast for Lent -- nor did I give up chocolate. Such might result in great suffering for those around me, which misses the point entirely.  I'm not really sure what has happened to the time that has elapsed since my last post and this one.  Life, I guess.   Living Lent.

The disciplines I have undertaken for Lent are meant to rid myself that which keeps me from God.  There are certain food-related things we are to abstain from during Lent (namely meat on Ash Wednesday and all the Fridays of Lent), though as a pregnant mother, the Church does not ask me to adhere to the fasting and abstinence laws with as strict an observance as women who are not pregnant or nursing (I still do abstain from meat on these days, making up the protein deficit with other foods).  I try to find other things from which to abstain in other ways (extravagance, for example).  And I'm trying to make a return to God in areas that I've let slide, such as the daily readings and certain daily prayers that had been routine but have somehow slipped through the cracks.  In fact, I think I'll look at it as trying to seal up those cracks with God himself.  As it should be.

But still, this undertaking is not easy -- nor is it meant to be.  Nothing worth doing well is going to come easily, now is it?  And when the going gets rough -- when I'm missing the pleasantries that are okay when enjoyed in moderation but are dangerous if they ultimately distract me from God, I'm faced with the choice to either despair at their absence or turn to God to fill in the gap they've left.  The latter is the whole point of the Lenten season.  To be more ascetic just for the sake of doing is not the objective; clearing out the clutter -- figuratively and literally -- to make room for God and to rely upon him instead of worldly things is what we're going for.

A few weeks in with a few more to go of Lent, it can seem like a long road.  But Lent doesn't last forever, and it doesn't exist for its own end.  The glorious celebration of Easter awaits.  We can't fully celebrate that feast without the mortification of Lent, and we live Lent in gratitude for the ultimate gifts of sacrifice and redemption each of us now possesses because of Easter.

We live as a people redeemed by Christ's sacrifice on the Cross, so when we are tempted to give into  melancholy or even despair over those things that we think bring us joy but really are rather inconsequential, let us offer those weaknesses to God and ask him to redirect our thoughts to Easter and its eternally joyous meaning.  Though it is a penitential season, I am striving to live Lent cheerfully -- and by that I mean in a manner grateful for the opportunities to unite my own small sufferings to those of Christ crucified.  By God's grace may we find ourselves closer to him than ever on Easter morning.

early bird

My friend hospitalized a month ago with bacterial meningitis had her baby boy today at 28 weeks of gestation.  They are both reportedly doing well, though the baby is obviously quite premature and will need extraordinary care for a long time to come.  Thinking of the road that lies before him now that he's outside his mother's body this early is deeply humbling for me as I consider the three full-term (and then some) bambini I've delivered already and the one that is gestating now (I'm nearly 19 weeks along).

If he's anything like his mother, the little guy born today (all two pounds, seven ounces of him) will have an admirable tenacity of will to aid in what could likely be a struggle for survival.  As his mother regains her health in small but encouraging ways (with a long way still to go, as she has yet to regain feeling below her chest), I pray he too will grow in health of body, mind, and soul, and that one day very soon she may snuggle him in her arms. 

I can say with some confidence that his birth today did not happen how she would have wanted it, but what matters most is his growth and health as well as hers.  May God bless them each with strength, and their angels guard them.  Likewise may their family and caretakers be blessed with wisdom, strength, and hope.

morning people

Next to the sink in our laundry room, there's a framed picture of my beloved and me we took of ourselves the morning we got engaged (oh happy day!) in a local park.  The picture's been there for a while, but just in the past few days each of our bambini has commented on it.  Our lass flashes a big grin and says "da da da da..."  The elder lad asked if that picture is from before when he was born.  We confirm as such.  The younger lad took notice of it as he stashed a toy on the counter on the way out the door to the garage: "there's you and Daddy!"

On that beautiful morning my beloved asked me to serve God with him in this vocation of marriage.  From the two of us (with God's help), this family has grown into five (soon to be six).  It is my fervent prayer and earnest endeavor to do my part to make our marriage a reflection of the bond between Christ and his Church, something which I believe is one of the greatest gifts we can give our bambini.  Their identities are rooted in Christ and the family in which he has placed them, so it is only fitting we make the inherent structure of that family a living sign of Christ's grace at work.

A lot has happened in the six years since we took that photo.  God willing, it was the first day of many to be spent serving the Lord hand in hand with my beloved.

this could be a problem.

I am (more than) moderately concerned that the younger lad will scoff at the extensive collection of orange shirts he stands to inherit from his elder brother.  In fact, I have it on pretty good authority, as tonight when the elder lad suggested his younger brother paint a hypothetical Mack truck model orange (the elder lad's longtime favorite color), the younger lad responded adamantly "I don't like orange!  I like red."

green clean *OR* minor triumph o'the day

Fun science experiment for the elder lad and me: on one shirt stained with berry/apple/purple carrot juice have said lad spray  regular old dishwashing liquid diluted with water.  Rub the fabric against itself.  Let that sit while reconstructing Lego vehicles, fulfilling drinkable yogurt requests, and/or attending to the personal hygiene needs of one or more children.  Return to the stained shirt, rinse it out, then have the lad spray white vinegar on it.  Observe the color change from deep blue (so absurdly lovely in an unwelcome way on an icy blue and white striped shirt of the 18-24 month size range*) to an equally unwelcome pinkish-purplish color.  Marvel as that starts to fade.  Then spray hydrogen peroxide on the color wonder and exchange amazed looks with your little laundry cohort.  Continue spraying vinegar and peroxide alternatively until nothing remains of the stain.   (!!!)  Treat with your favorite pre-treatment regime and launder as usual.

Boo-yeah!

(and please pass no judgment on the prudence -- or lack thereof -- of my giving this fruit juice cocktail to my wee lass.  I did it in the name of vitamins and with very little chocolate in my system.  The stain potential did cross my mind, but I decided to risk it, being as I was low on chocolate.)

*I make it my policy to purchase children's clothing -- primarily shirts or dresses -- as big as I can get away with in the name of longevity.  This particular shirt I bought for the lass when she was about six months old.

Sincere thanks to this stain guide for the tools and sequencing of the stain removal. 
 
Around these parts we try to use natural cleaners like baking soda, white vinegar, hydrogen peroxide, castile soap, and tea tree oil whenever possible, both from an environmental stewardship perspective and one of safety (and so we can involve the littles in the homekeeping duties as appropriate).  We still keep cleaners up out of the bambini's reach, but if they were, say, to get a hold of a bottle of white vinegar, it would have far less of a health impact than glugging a gallon of bleach (not that I want this to happen, of course, and take reasonable precautions to prevent it). 

On several levels, this counts as my minor triumph of the day: heretofore hopeless stain now just a memory *and* a teachable moment for my ever-curious lad -- science and laundry care all in one.

the Game of Life

The lads are into The Game of Life.  After setting up the game board with the spinner and buildings, they choose their cars and load 'em up with people.  Then they cruise around the game board path.  They may or may not stay on the path itself, and they may or may not take turns spinning to see how many spaces to advance.  Sometimes they just cruise.  Sometimes they designate which building is whose house and invite us over for dinner.  They don't mess with money or insurance or these weird tokens that came with the new edition of the game that I don't remember from my childhood.

The elder lad has informed us that his guardian angel's name is George. I'm fully confident that this duly charged angel is well-versed in the wiles and foibles of curious boys (and monkeys, for that matter).

The younger lad has adopted one of the dolls our lass received for Christmas.  He says he's the doll's daddy.  It's a wonderful thing to see, really: this young lad tenderly caring for the baby doll (as the bambini's dad cares for each of them).  It's a skill well-worth cultivating, we think, as developing compassion and concern for someone else can only stand to serve him well all his life in whatever vocation to which God ultimately calls him.  He's rather attached to the doll now.  Yesterday he woke up asking for her.  We searched the house high and low to no avail.  Finally just before bed he went into the hall bathroom and lifted the hinged lower step of the two-step stool placed there to facilitate easy hand washing access for the vertically challenged.  Lo and behold, the baby doll was inside!  Come to think of it, he had stashed the red spatula he received for Christmas in the same little cubby and discovered it just recently.  Now I know to check that "hidey hole" first whenever something's gone missing.

The lass must be getting ready to grow, as she has a near insatiable appetite.  She wants whatever we're having, and she doesn't mind letting us know!  She's a pretty good sport about her older brother taking charge of her baby doll.  We'll see how long that lasts...

I've been contemplating how to rearrange the car seats in our Bambini Ride to accommodate another one for our fourth child due this summer.  It's a bit like the Game of Life, traveling along the path taking life as it comes.  Though it might seem we are sometimes just cruising along, our faith tells us this is not the case.  God is in control. He invites us to cooperate with Him.  We can't see where the path will lead next, but we trust our guardian angels are along for the ride, and we have our sights set on what we hope and pray and strive to make our final destination (God willing): Heaven.

cookies

Oftentimes as we drive away from dropping off the elder lad at preschool, my younger lad will say "Should we bake chocolate chip [or breakfast] cookies?" Always a fine idea, I think.

We've hit upon a charming set of books by Amy Krouse Rosenthal (illustrated by Jane Dyer and Brooke Dyer) featuring cherubic little children and animals making, eating, sharing (or not), and musing about cookies.  As they do, various words like patient, perseverent, compassionate, moderation, trustworthy, considerate, and fair (among many others) are explained in cookie-themed easy-to-understand terminology.  Cookies: Bite-Size Life Lessons, Christmas Cookies: Bite-Size Holiday Lessons, and Sugar Cookies: Sweet Little Lessons on Love are delectable ways to introduce or reinforce these lessons in charity and virtue.