out and about

In the past couple of weeks we've been taking in some local attractions and special events:

• We made it out to see the last B-29 bomber still flying at the local air and space museum, which made for good nostalgia considering it was the plane my Papa Jack trained to serve on as a flight engineer in World War II (though the War thankfully ended before he saw combat).  That event also allowed us the opportunity to sample some of the offerings from a food truck, which was fun from a foodie standpoint, if not necessarily one of expediency.  We waited for a *long* time for that food. 
• We had a great time at our parish school's annual Fair, complete with tasty (and quick) food served by the Knights of Columbus, pony rides (for the horse-loving lads, anyway), a petting zoo, lots of fun games, an obstacle course, and a live bluegrass band.  It was a humdinger of a festival.
• We've been on a few field trips.  The elder lass's preschool class went to a humongous fire station *and* the pumpkin patch (not all in the same place or on the same day), and the younger lad's kindergarten class went to the apple orchard. 

While we greatly treasure and preciously guard our stay home days more so all the time, getting out to these events has been refreshing, exhilarating, and delightful for everyone involved. 

noted

Polling the school-going bambini for lunch box requests, there seems to be a theme going in spite of their vastly different tastes: they all want a note in their lunch box.

I've been tucking notes into lunch boxes here and there (not every day) for as long as I've been packing lunches for people. I didn't realize how much the notes meant to the people opening the lunch boxes until a couple of recent occasions when I didn't stick a note in. That was the first thing I heard about when we were reunited. I have learned my lesson.

It's nothing fancy, usually just a plain square of white paper with a short, not too mushy sentiment such as "I love you!" or "I hope you're having a great day!" or "see you soon!". Sometimes I'll throw in a joke, though:

I can't take credit for this clever joke.  I found it online. 
I don't know if the jokes are read to friends at the lunch table.  I hope they are. 

I try to write as legibly as I can for the new and emerging readers among us, especially considering my standard quirky handwriting is a mix of cursive, printing, upper and lower case. 

If the most important thing in the lunch box is a note from Mom (or Dad), does it even matter what else I pack?  The answer is a resounding *yes*, but it's gratifying to know how something that seems like a little thing to me is of such significance to my little loves -- at least for now.

brown baggin'

School has started for our bambini.  The elder lad is in second grade now, the younger lad is a wide-eyed kindergartener, and the elder lass is going to preschool two days a week ('twas her idea).  So far things are going well, though I always brace for a harrowing adjustment time the first few weeks(!) of school as everyone gets used to the new reality.

Along with the earlier wake up call, school days signal a return to packing lunches.  The lads like to eat school lunch when breakfast is on the menu, but otherwise they take their lunch.  The elder lass has to take her lunch.

from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban

Given my thorough treatment of picky eating preferences, I still try to keep things interesting as well as healthy and delicious in their lunchboxes. For ideas I pore over all the posts I can find on the subject, including this witty and informative post penned by my sweet friend Katie. I'm especially fascinated by the whole bento box movement, which places a premium on the presentation of food as a pathway to the food actually being eaten. I have yet to carve hot dogs into octopuses of cut out fruit in flower shapes, though. The closest I've gotten is my rainbow fruit skewer.

While some of the bambini are more open than others to variety in their lunchboxes (I won't name names), this passage from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban (we are, by the way, big time Frances fans) neatly sums up the attitude of at least one of our bambini when it comes to branching out a bit:

"How do you know what you'll like 

if you won't even try anything?" asked Father.

"Well," said Frances,

 "there are many different things to eat,

and they taste many different ways.

But when I have bread and jam

I always know what I am getting, and I am always pleased."

Frances may not be open to spicing things up a bit (at least not at the beginning; I won't spoil the ending), but at least she and her friend Albert take a real lunch break to enjoy their food.

from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban

With the prospect of recess looming for kids who are hungry but eager to burn off some pent-up energy, lunch is less leisurely, more pit-stop-esque, there's hardly time for doilies and tiny vases of violets...

Super Tuesday

Our eighth wedding anniversary was this past Tuesday, which was also the first day of school for the elder lad (now in second grade) and elder lass (who started preschool two days a week) with some medical- and school-related appointments for the younger lad thrown in the mix for some logistical bonus points.  (His first day of Kindergarten came two days later.)

With everything going on that busy "super Tuesday", it didn't bear much resemblance to the peaceful day my beloved and I entered into the sacrament of marriage. To celebrate this anniversary, we had gone out to dinner the previous weekend, and I made a favorite meal on our actual anniversary, but the focus of the day was not so much on the two of us as it was about the young family for whom we are now caring.  This anniversary had its roots in that wedding day, when we consented to accepting children willingly from the Lord and bringing them up according to the law of Christ and his Church. 

We are in a season of family life where the bambini are a primary focus of our efforts, attention, and energy.  As we continue to discern how best to balance their needs with our own, including the need for the two of us to stay in sync as we journey heavenward, I pray the Lord will continue to bless us with opportunities for refreshment with each other, for wisdom to know how best to care for the bambini he has seen fit to send our way (if only for a little while), for grace to see each other as Christ sees each of us and love each other accordingly, and for length of days to serve him hand in hand. 

water under the bridge

With six months elapsed since my last post, I hardly know where to pick up the story.  Most of the fall semester went unchronicled, and here we are nearly halfway through the spring semester of the elder lad's first grade year and younger lad's preschool year.

While this grieves me, I own that I've never been very good at maintaining a journal of any sort for the long haul.  This latest silence can be attributed to several factors, among them a lamentable lack of whatever motivation and ability I had to see the process from thought to written post to completion.  Part of this was owing to external factors (such as an overwhelming amount of the stuff of lowbrow humor to contend with as well as having nary a few moments in which I had both the use of both my hands *and* cognitive function to devote to navel gazing), but a lot of it had to do with me auguring into a git 'er done mode, staying on top of domestic affairs more consistently and not allowing myself to dilly dally at the glowing screen as much.

Highlights of the past six months include

• the elder lad's involvement in Cub Scouts as a Tiger Cub.  He seems to really revel in the challenge of it, and we recognize the potential for his growing in virtue by participating in Scouts.  For inspiration and encouragement he can look to several Scouts in the family.  I'm still trying to figure out the quickest and best way to get those patches and badges on his uniform...
• the transformation of the younger lad to a school boy, one who charges around the school playground playing superhero, rocks his snow boots (aka "moon boots") like nobody's business, and shows an ever-growing capacity for tenderness toward his sisters -- sometimes... 
• celebrating birthday number three for the elder lass (which still sounds weird to me, but neither of these girlies is "wee" anymore, so some other distinction is necessary), who still loves to read and now is showing quite an interest in ballet.  She's about the age her mother was when said mama began taking ballet lessons... 
• an entertaining and enchanting display of the younger lass's (now 19 months old) charm, wit, sweetness -- and chutzpah, as she has no qualms about letting us know exactly what she thinks and how she feels...

Along with these highlights and several poignant opportunities for keeping things in perspective has come a greater awareness of the beauty that lies in accepting and fulfilling some aspects of this vocation of wife and mother that aren't anything anyone would call glamorous (see aforementioned reference to that which the Honeywagon ferries away) -- if I choose to look at it that way -- and more gratitude than ever for all the many blessings with which we've been showered.

I wouldn't call the past six months the most prayerful of my existence, although I hope to offer the work that has gone on during this time -- and continues -- as such. 

As for all the soundbytes and family birthdays and books we've read together, at this moment they seem to be water under the bridge.  Perhaps I'll be able to reclaim some of them.  I still struggle mightily with "brain fog", so we'll see what cuts through the haze.

For everything there is a season.  This one in our family life continues to be very full of minute-to-minute changes in climate and conditions, and that takes a lot of stamina -- not to mention prayers.  Please continue to keep us in yours. 

minor victories :: drop the needle edition

College music majors know well the concept of "drop the needle".  That's the not-so-affectionate (and now rather outdated) term that refers to the listening portions of music history exams where a snippet of music is played and the students must identify it, its composer, and varying degrees of information about both (such as the specific movement of this selection if it is a multi-movement work, the composer's life span, defining characteristics of that person's music, other works by the same composer, etc.).  The selection played during the exam can come from any point in the piece as though a record needle were dropped on an LP -- it rarely starts at the beginning.

So as we're driving to preschool this morning, the younger lad requests "the one with the drums," and I couldn't help but think that this is the preschool version of that rather stressful game from my college days.

But I got it right. 

angels at work

With a healthy dose of uncertainty that didn't devolve into tears, the younger lad started preschool this morning.  He was familiar with the setting from Vacation Bible School this summer, and he was buoyed by the hope of seeing his brother the first grader on the playground.  They did in fact see each other, which was the declared highlight of their respective school days (that and lunch, according to the newly-minted preschooler). 

After school we visited my sister all moved into her spiffy dorm room.  This brought back a wealth of memories for me of her as a wee lass about the age of my preschooler visiting me in my college dorm room.  Those weekly visits she and my mom paid me were always highlights, and it's an honor to return the favor now.  We love having Babycakes so close by.

Enveloped in the grace of God and the protection of his angels and ours, we have so much to be thankful for such a relatively smooth transition to the school scene and this latest round in our Game of Life.

getting organized

School starts this week. Yesterday the elder lad started first grade.  The younger lad starts preschool tomorrow. So long as we weather the adjustment to the earlier wake-up calls, I think we're in for a good year.  I just have to get myself organized.

Along with the new school year has come the influx of handbooks, procedures, forms, and paperwork to be read, completed, signed, returned, filed, and otherwise digested. Then there are the calendars.

Snack duty * Cafeteria lunch menu * Parent volunteer schedule * School year * Birthdays

Instead of posting all the various calendars that come home in plain view, I try to glean the pertinent information from each and put it on my central calendar. Otherwise, it's apt to get overlooked as all the calendars become part of the visual landscape only to be dealt with accordingly when I just can't stand it anymore (or company's coming).

In the past I've tried several different printed calendars, but in the end I've always defaulted to a computer-based calendar and have been using Google calendar for a while.  I'd like to get back to an actual calendar, though, if only as a means of preservation.  Enter this little cutie...

 It's a simple spiral-bound calendar I can tuck in my bag meant really for students but with plenty of space to write on each day to suit my purposes. Along with my Google calendar, I intend to use this paper calendar to keep track of our family doings and developments. Wish me luck.  I've kind-of fallen off that wagon.

I like the tangible aspects of the spiral-bound calendar not only for its aesthetic appeal but also for the example it sets to the bambini -- that of writing down what's important and not relying on technology to the exclusion of everything else. The convenience of being able to access my Google calendar from my phone is huge, though, and makes it my default calendar.  Still, I endeavor to strike the proper balance between technology and posterity.

My strange fixation on calendars is becoming more evident the longer I yammer on about mine.  As for what to do with paperwork that needs my attention and response, I'm still refining my system. Generally I try to respond as quickly as possible when necessary and send it back so it's off my plate, so to speak. If I have to wait to return something, I tend to stick it on the fridge (where it is in danger of becoming, like the calendars, part of the visual landscape). Still, it's my not-so-failproof way to protect it from getting lost in the shuffle or falling victim to my deck-clearing compulsion, which seems to have intensified with each child I have borne. Hmm.

Lots of information comes home from school that I like to hang on to for future reference (including those calendars). Presently I have a three-ring notebook in which I try to file things in as I receive them. This reverse chronological order (i.e. most recent first) system is one I learned as an intern at Lyric Opera of Chicago, and I've applied it to pretty much everything I've tried to organize into notebooks, including children's health records and household paperwork. Things like school handbooks that don't easily lend themselves to being three-hole punched are tucked into a plastic envelope that itself is three-hole punched and held closed with a hook and loop closure.

I have come to realize that not every piece of schoolwork needs to be archived. For the past two years, I have collected the elder lad's work in those plastic zip-up cases that sets of sheets, curtains, or comforters come in. I slide the case under the elder lad's bed. A few times he'd trot out all the work (much to my chagrin, as it usually coincided with happy hour) and play trash truck. It finally dawned on me to have him actually sort through the work he wanted to keep, stash that back in the case, and put the rest in the household recycling sack. (I went through it myself later to save things I thought were "keepers" from the recycling bin fate).

Backpacks and lunch boxes live in a low kitchen cabinet for bambini to stow and retrieve themselves. I try to assemble as much of the next day's packed lunch after dinner is cleaned up so that there is less to fuss about in the morning when all bets are off as to my lucidity and the availability of both my hands for food preparation.  Backpacks are readied for the next day with contents like homework, school library books, things for quiet rest time, and correspondence with the teacher.

We're not to the season yet of having bambini going in opposite directions to activities, which simplifies the family calendar a lot. In trying to hone my organizational skills now, I hope to be well-poised to take on that logistical quagmire as it comes our way.

The real challenges both now and in the future will lie in
*not taking on too much,
*remembering what's most important to us as a family on the path to Heaven, and
*making the organizational system work for us -- not the other way around.

My system is working for me so far, though I know there's always room for improvement...

Marjorie Flack's 'Angus' books

With our preschool co-op we utilized a curriculum called Before Five in a Row geared for children ages two to four.  Using classic and more recently published children's books, we'd read a certain book at home several days in a row (hence the name) and together as a group.  The activities were drawn from the books in some way.

One of our family's favorite books was Angus Lost by prolific children's author Marjorie Flack, about a little Scotty dog named Angus who wondered about the big world outside his window and one day made it out the door to find out for himself.  This gave rise to some good discussions about safety, both around dogs and broader personal safety issues such as when out in public.  It was also interesting to examine the illustrations, some of which are in color and some in black and white.

Angus also stars in Angus and the Cat and Angus and the Ducks, both equally delightful to Angus Lost in their charming prose and depiction of Angus's insatiable (or is it?) curiosity.

pomp and circumstance

Our elder lad is a preschool graduate.  While we didn't tell him to "get a job", like my father told me mostly in jest (but partly in earnest; he knew I was working on it) when I graduated from college, the milestone is noteworthy as a sort of punctuation in a continuing journey. God willing, it is the first of several such school-year-ending ceremonies.  

Donning white cap and gown, he and his schoolmates marched single file into the school gym to the tune of Edward Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance (Check him out if all you know of his output is the graduation tune.  His music is expansive, evocative of his homeland the English countryside, and informed by his Catholic faith).   They presented a brief but well-rehearsed and age-appropriate program showing off a year's worth of hard work and the development of an obvious camaraderie among them.  Afterward, they dutifully posed for pictures, then flung off their caps and gowns for some large motor skill time running around the gym (their indoor recess place, after all).

The first few days of preschool were fraught with emotion for all of us.  It was a very difficult decision to enroll him in preschool, us having always been together and already collaborating with a group of families in a preschool co-op.  The experience has proven to be a positive one overall, thankfully.  He was blessed with a loving, devoted, and thoughtful teacher and a bevy of caring staff and administration at the school.  The pastor of the parish preschool was one of five presiding at our wedding, and he made regular visits to the school both on regular days and for special events like the Christmas program and today's ceremony.

As we turn our attention to kindergarten next year at a new parish school, I expect we might go through a similar emotional experience to that which we knew at the beginning of this school year now ended.  The element of complete unknown that was part of the beginning of preschool will be (mercifully) absent -- or maybe lessened -- but there will nonetheless be that dimension of not knowing what to expect.  There is also the sadness of saying good-bye to friends the elder lad made this year; none of them will be attending the school in which he is enrolled.

He is looking forward to kindergarten, having been positively beaming on the visits we made to the school we have chosen.  It will mark the opening of a new season in our family life, one I'm glad we have a few months yet to start.

time for tea

We got all gussied up this afternoon and went to a tea party in the elder lad's preschool classroom.  His teacher worked so hard to put together and help her students present a lovely tribute to their mamas. 

He's been so excited about this special event. This morning he whispered to me that today he'd be able to give me the card he'd been working on.  When the younger lad, lass, and I arrived at the classroom, all the students were seated and most of their mamas were already there.  When my lad saw us come into the room, he beamed and gestured for us to come sit with him. 

There's a sweet picture of him signing "I love you," a potted plant (in a neat vessel he and his schoolmates made of concrete and peat moss), the card, and -- in the hallway of his school, a picture he drew of me in a purple skirt (which I do have but hardly ever wear).  The caption reads "My mom is special because... she loves me."

That I do. 

That he knows this means the world to me.

tough choices

Today the elder lad's preschool is going to the zoo.  The families have been asked to go rather than the teachers and volunteers managing the big group.  While I support this idea, we are not going -- not today.

Here are some reasons why:

• I am a simpering mess.
• The lass started running a temperature last night and is starting to simper herself.
• The wind is sweeping down the plain with great gusto.  This does not bode well for any of us who are already ailing with allergies and sinus misery (that's all of us).
• Our bambini like to experience the zoo at their pace, lingering here and there and skipping over other things.  Going with a big group does not allow for this kind of flexibility.
• I noticed on another school bulletin board that today is their class field trip to the zoo, and I would not be surprised if other schools have the same idea for today.  We once went to the zoo during Spring Break.  I won't be doing that again.  Conversely, we went as a family on a drizzly June day and had the place to ourselves and a delightful time.
• Any zoo outing is always an undertaking for us, even under the best conditions.  Such are not present today.

 The lad is understandably disappointed to miss the outing with his "schoolmates", as he calls them.  In discussing this situation, I've let him know the reasons why we aren't able to go today, expressed empathy for his disappointment, and told him that we hope to go as a family soon when we can experience the zoo as we like to -- looking for the teeny poison dart frogs, the jaguar, the lions and tigers, the giraffes, and spending as much or as little time as we want checking them out to our satisfaction.  He seems okay with it now.  In fact, he seems happy to have a home day to play cars and other such things he enjoys.

Today happens to be the younger lad's spiritual birthday, the occasion of his baptism three years ago.  He's requested French toast for dinner, so it'll be fun getting that ready together.

This zoo trip is one of those cases (as with so many others) where the decision must be made taking into account the needs of all the family members.   Given all the factors, it's a no-brainer.  We might not be headed to the zoo, but we can still make it a "glory day" (even if we're sniffling).

with friends like these

When my elder lad was my only lad, I signed us up for a baby sign language class.  The teacher was a young mom with a daughter a few months younger than my lad.  We became friends, and through her I met another vibrant and deeply committed mother whose daughter shares my elder lad's birthday.  We three and a couple of other mamas they knew with children the ages of ours formed a preschool co-op group for our young children and met regularly for a couple of years.

The friendships I have forged with these mamas are of immeasurable value to me.  They are what I like to call "like-minded mamas," ones who I respect and admire for many reasons -- chief among them being the respect, love, and devotion they give to their children (and model to their children to expect in return as their children are able to give such), and the obvious joy they derive from mothering.  Even though I don't see these ladies nearly enough anymore (we no longer participate in the co-op since they meet on one of the days my lad is in preschool), I think of each of them often and continue to draw inspiration from them. 

Tonight as I sat decorating little cakes for my lass's family birthday party tomorrow, I received a call from my sign language teacher friend mama.  It was past the hour for calling just to visit (though I always welcome her calls), so I knew immediately that something had to be wrong.  It was.  It is.  The mother whose girl shares my lad's birthday is hospitalized with bacterial meningitis.   She is six months pregnant and also has a two-year-old lad.  My friend's condition is very fragile.

Please keep her, her family, loved ones, and caretakers in your prayers.

favorite authors: Tomie de Paola

One of our very favorite authors is Tomie de Paola.  "Prolific" is one way of describing his output, but "wonderful" and "delightful" are probably more descriptive (if somewhat more subjective).  He's penned and illustrated several books of a religious nature, among them one on St. Patrick, a few on the Blessed Virgin Mary, and several about Jesus, as well as those about ordinary people answering the call to everyday sanctity.  Some of our favorites among these are The Lady of Guadalupe, The Clown of God, and Christopher the Holy Giant.  He also has written some based on legend (such as The Legend of the Poinsettia), and some endearing stories drawn from his own childhood.  Of these we've really liked The Art Lesson and The Baby Sister.  Then there are fun ones that answer burning questions like those about popcorn and clouds in the aptly-titled The Popcorn Book and The Cloud Book respectively.

These days we're enjoying Jingle the Christmas Clown, Pages of Music (written by Tony Johnston and illustrated by de Paola), and Tomie's Little Christmas Pageant, perfect timing too as our elder lad just appeared in his first Christmas program at his preschool. Mama wasn't prepared for the strong reaction of wonder and pride seeing her lad in his element on stage dressed as a Wise Man in an orange robe and crown.  Who knew?

I remember reading Nana Upstairs Nana Downstairs as a child (older than my own bambini), though at the time de Paola's name didn't stick with me.  When I checked it out not all that long ago to see if it might be one my bambini would like now (I decided to wait until they're a little older to read it to them), I could barely make it through the book without tears welling in my eyes thinking of reading this book with my parents and also of my own grandmothers, one living and one no longer living.

De Paola's simple, honest prose and his charming illustrations endear his books to parents and children alike.  It's no wonder he's an enduring favorite, not just at our house, but around the world.

shoes optional

We went to the shoe store today.  This is no minor undertaking for us.  I'd much rather order shoes online (and likely will still do so), but I thought it important to have the lads' feet measured for sizes.  When we got to the shoe store, I began the unloading process -- a bit like one of those puzzles that has nine spaces but eight squares, and you have to move one into an empty spot to get another free and eventually get it arranged just so.  So it goes for a solo adult unloading the bambini in a parking lot along a busy street.  I digress...

... I come to unload my wee lass and notice she only has one shoe on.  I find the other one and stick it not on her foot but in the pocket of my sling, thinking I'll put it back on her foot inside (of course I forget to and only realize she's wearing one shoe to the shoe store when we get back to the Bambini Ride having bought no shoes).  This calls to mind a trip last week to pick up my elder lad from preschool only to find my two and a half year old younger lad has socks on but no shoes.  I had taken the sneakers he had vetoed out of the car and intended to bring along his boots, but got distracted during that boarding process and left the boots at home.  So here we are at school with two shoeless children (the lass didn't have shoes on either, but this was less of an issue since I sling her).   I carried them both in to retrieve our preschooler.  That morning the elder lad had wanted to wear the sneakers that were at his school in his "just in case" change of clothes bag, so when I got there to pick him up after school he wanted to change into those.  Handy, since the younger lad had no shoes.  By the time we got back to the car, he was wearing his older brother's sneakers -- the ones he'd been wearing at school all day.  Nevermind that they're two sizes too big *and* have been worn all day already.

I hope he'll forgive me for that someday.

Epilogue: having accomplished the sole objective of making it possible for the younger lad to walk himself to the Bambini Ride, he was promptly relieved of his brother's shoes and reunited with his own upon our arrival home.