life of the party

Our darling clementine is two today! She may be the smallest of the small ones, but she is (as Grandmare describes her) the life of the party. To her, everything is big: big excitement about all things strawberry (and tomato), big frustration over anything that doesn't go her way, even herself, as she considers herself every bit as big as her older siblings.

I played with Strawberry Shortcake figurines like these when I was a little girl.  Now they're considered "vintage"!

The relationships she is forging with her siblings are at once complex and simple. They dote on her (especially the elder lad), play with her (especially her sister the elder lass, who is often heard saying "I need my [sister!]), and find her both a snuggle buddy and an easy target (that would be the younger lad). From her perspective, life is better when they're around, and she's happiest when she's right in the middle of their games and shenanigans.

For us, she is a ray of sunshine, a precious and refreshing ball of energy and exuberance. She may keep us all on our toes, but she gives *great* squeezy hugs and laughs with every fiber of her being.

She's been heard yelling "Hi, kids!" to those in passing shopping carts, and she is quick to notice the distress call of an upset child, whether she knows them or not.  She's empathetic like that.

I've been a bit preoccupied making pinwheels.

To celebrate her birthday, we hosted a pancake "brecky" for the family, complete with our favorite pancakes (expertly griddled by my dad) topped with whipped cream and strawberries, yummy breakfast casseroles (thanks, Annie, for your help with those!), strawberry muffins made by Grandmare, fruit and yogurt parfaits,  cold-brewed coffee (my current preferred coffee concoction), and a few other fixin's.  The younger lass truly was the "life of the party", shrieking with delight as she opened lovingly-chosen gifts from her aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins.  Today we took a family trip to the aquarium and had a pizza party (at her request).

My kitty clock!" the lass exclaimed when she unwrapped this iconic clock, a gift from her great-grandparents.  She had seen one in a clock shop several months ago, and was so excited to hold in her hands one of her very own.

Imagine the ways the Lord will shine through her bright star if she allows him to. She does that already when she folds her little hands together to pray.  

Lord, please help us her grow in grace, wonder, compassion, and joy as the story of her life continues to unfold. May the twinkle in her dark chocolate brown eyes only shine brighter with each passing day. Thank you for entrusting this sweet rosy girl to our care. 

miniature roses for our rosy girl

rainbows

I have always loved rainbows.  They're one of the few things I can draw reasonably well.  Recently I've taken to arranging things in rainbows -- my hanging clothes, for example. The effect is not quite on par with my favorite clothing stores' lovely ROY G. BIV arrangements, largely because there's still so much *stuff* on my side of the closet, but it's an improvement (and I keep chipping away at the mess little by little).

Why am I posting a picture of my messy closet?  I'm just keepin' it real.

See what I mean?  Not exactly boutique. Maybe if they weren't packed in there so tightly...

Here's something easier on the eyes: a lass in a rainbow shirt.  Mama may not have much of a future illustrating children's books, but she can paint a rainbow. 

Happily, my countertops are looking a lot better than my closet. The kitchen has also been rainbow-fied:

I've been on a roll with these fruit kabobs (remember the Fruit Bots?).

 

I'm not the only one drawn instinctively to the rainbows. Fruit flies seem to like them too. Here's how we deal with that pesky problem.  I give you "The Fruit Fly Death Trap":

  

What is it about rainbows that makes them so perfectly lovely and delightful in whatever form but especially arching across the sky into eternity?  They must be heaven-sent.

Godsends

Following yesterday's post about taking necessary measures to ensure the overall health of a primary caregiver, I wish to backtrack even farther to two (almost three now) Sundays ago.  St. Paul is writing to the Corinthians, explaining the source of his strength in spite of some uphill battles he's fighting.  That source is the Lord's grace. 

"...My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

--2 Cor 12:9

Were I to tally the number of times I felt unequal to the task of caring for four closely-spaced children, I think the number might be astronomical.  However could I, one person with two hands, meet all the simultaneous needs when flying solo?  Even trusting that the Lord wouldn't allow for circumstances that he and I couldn't handle together, the plain truth remains that I haven't grown any more limbs along with the multiple children to corral and hold, though I did have recourse to a third arm for a long time when each of our bambini was an infant. Plenty of times I considered it a Godsend.

As much as I may want to be everything to everyone, that's not realistic -- or even reasonable.  I'm just one person -- a sinful, imperfect one at that.  The young lives entrusted to my care need much more than I as one person can give them, but the Lord knows that and -- I trust -- makes up the difference between my hard-working best effort toward meeting the various needs and completing the fulfillment of those needs by his many conduits of grace. 

When I step back to take a long view, I am reminded that many people who the world would consider "weak" have accomplished amazing things by God's grace.  I'm not trying to be counted among them, but I do draw a lot of inspiration and reassurance from knowing that such has been the case.  May it be so in our circumstances as well.

While it may seem lofty, naïve, or flat-out foolish to believe that the strength I need to fulfill my God-given duties would come in the form of some nebulous and invisible Grace (big "G"), I've experienced it myself, I've seen it in action, and that's enough for me.

the pause that refreshes

Backtracking a little, the Gospel reading this past Sunday is resonating with me several days later. Jesus and his disciples try to take some downtime, only to be met with people in need of their ministry and mercy.  The opportunity to fill in for an absent pianist was in itself just such a retreat from my everyday circumstances for a little while.  Afterward I felt refreshed and ready to dive back into the busy-ness and emotionally demanding work of caring for my four young children (if also a little sheepish about the mistakes that characterize some "rusty" piano playing -- the bambini couldn't care less about those).

How often does it happen to parents who try to take a moment's retreat before reengaging back into the challenging work of ministering to their children that something comes up preventing the parents from taking that time for the purpose of renewing what might be lagging spirits?  In my own experience, it's plenty of times.  I know I'm not the only one to face this.  In the Gospel, Jesus and his disciples are moved with pity for the people who meet them at what is supposed to be their resting place, and those in need are cared for and taught with compassion.  While I do my best, I can't say I'm always as gracious when this scene plays out in my own realm.  We can't give what we don't have. 

It's my nature to keep pushing through fatigue and similar symptoms, but the risk of burnout is great.  The effects of that aren't at all the kind of legacy I want to leave with my children.  While the extraction process for Mama to depart and go do something else for a while, such as play the piano at church or visit with friends or pursue some other hobby lately relegated to the back burner (or cooling rack, as it were, not even simmering anymore) can be fraught with emotion, it's getting easier for me to get out the door and do a few things such as these every once in a while.  The bambini have come to relish their days at "camp" with Grandmare or their time spent at home with Daddy-o while I am out for a little while.  This is a great relief to everyone, as it should be.  I hoped this would eventually be the case, and it often is. 

Sometimes I think I stay a little too close to home, but as the heart of ours, I am happy to be here.  Still, everyone needs a break now and then.  As I get a little more mothering under my belt, I find myself better able to articulate the legitimate need for a change of scenery, a little breathing room, and some time to regroup.  When a rejuvenated Mama returns, everyone is the better for it.

always listening

At the breakfast proceedings this morning, the elder lad said something that flat out did not make any sense -- highly unusual for our always-thinking analytical future Mack truck driver, not so much for me. When I questioned him on the gaffe, he said "oh, excuse me. I haven't had my coffee yet."

(For the record, he doesn't drink coffee.)

"Where have you heard that before?!" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"From you," he said with a sort of smirk, at once sheepish but confident.

Oh my.

like riding a bike

A few times now recently I have warmed the bench of the piano at the Catholic parish where I had served as music and liturgy director before the elder lad arrived on the scene.  Going back to play the piano is at once easy yet challenging, comfortable yet awkward, as not only am I not exactly in practice like I was when I was playing several masses in one weekend, but also time has marched on for the people of that parish just as it has for my family and me.  Some things are as ever. Some things are a lot different.  In many ways, it's like riding a bike: it all comes back quickly once I settle down and get going.

Few things allow me a more direct route to that place of prayer in action like playing the piano at Mass.  It truly is a blessing and honor to be able to use this gift from God at his service.  Balancing serving him by playing at mass with serving him by serving my young family at home is something I'm still trying to discern and navigate.  I always envisioned my children nearby as I played the piano, either at home or church, somehow finding it completely normal for me to be doing that while they were doing something else.  It hasn't worked out that way.  Maybe the time for that is just now beginning, or maybe it has yet to arrive, or maybe the eventual solution will be somewhere in between...

for my favorite Anglophiles

With the London Olympics about to begin soon and my brother- and sister-in-law (the ones who lived in London for a while) about to arrive for a highly-anticipated visit, today I offer a selection of favorite children's books from across the pond.

Each one of M. Sasek's This Is... set of travel books for children is a trip of its own.  The books were written in the '60s, but some of them have been reprinted recently with necessary updates given in a list at the end of each book.  The fun watercolor illustrations and whimsical prose make these books great read-alouds to the younger ones, even if some of the references to historical events and people are obscure to the wee ones.  I find these books so charming and have been known to give them as gifts to adults (specifically This Is Edinburgh to my father, whose father -- my Papa Jack -- emigrated from Scotland with his family at the age of seven -- my elder lad's present age.) -- they're that fun.  With books on major cities of the world -- and Texas, oddly enough -- this series would be a fun collection to have if one had the shelf space.

My brother-in-law the Londoner once brought the elder lad (when the latter was an only lad) a stuffed Paddigton Bear and cup with super fun straw.  Thus began a long friendship with the bear from "Darkest Peru."  We've read most of Michael Bond's original story collections, listened to some of them on audiobooks, and pored over the picture books "for younger readers".  Suffice it to say, we are big fans of Paddington.

Dodsworth in London by Tim Egan. It's about a critter named Dodsworth who goes to London with his loquacious duck. They get separated when the duck gets on a double-decker bus without Dodsworth, who thinks the duck with the fascinator (who is the Royal Duck, pet of the queen) is his duck being silly. The pair end up lodging at Buckingham Palace at the queen's invitation.

What discussion of British children's books would be complete without mentioning Beatrix Potter?  Grandmare lent us her big book of Miss Potter's stories a while back, and we have yet to return it. 

As exciting as the Olympics are to witness, the best part for me will be the time spent with family in town for a too-short visit.  As with Britain's royal wedding a year and a half ago, the sporting events themselves don't affect me personally.  The connection to loved ones and opportunities to pore over good books with my bambini are golden.