day 2 of the blogging challenge

I feel like it's all I can do to get this post out.

This tired mama is thanking the Good Lord for eggs and fruit to feed hungry children on this hot summer day. And by fruit I mean fruit cocktail. The generic brand.

If I had my choice, this is what we'd be doing tonight (minus the hats - they mysteriously disappeared when the girls wanted to wear them to Holy Mass instead of their veils. Strangest thing.):

Because there is nothing better than wearing a cow hat while eating Chick-fil-A.

Same goes for this one, also known as Blue Steele.

Alas, the nearest Chick-Fil-A is at least forty minutes away and I stuck with eggs and processed fruit.


I'm also taking a poll. How much TV do your kiddos watch during the summer? When you live in the hottest level of hell: Texas (for the record, I love my state, I just also love air conditioning. It's genetic - I have pale skin.)? I thought I'd ask while in a good groove.

Admittedly, I go through periods where I'm overwhelmed and they watch too much. It'll make me look like a better parent if I ask right now. We're averaging about two episodes a day: one while I shower and one when I'm secretly packing up their room. On the days I don't have boxes to pack things up, we're still averaging two episodes.

This is only an average and I'm bad at math, so maybe it's actually eight episodes, I don't know. Some days are better, some are worse.

What does it look like in your house?

how we met, part 1

Jumping into two link-ups because they're fun ones. I'm late with the blogging everyday one, but oh well. I'm always just a little short of the perfectionist bar, so this is nothing new!



I feel blessed that Joseph and I met when he was valiantly saving my life.

But I digress.

I didn't want to go to the college I did. I was a self-proclaimed snob in high school. I thought I was better than everyone else. I got into a couple of pretty prestigious universities, thanks to the grace of God (I didn't see it back then!), a good SAT score, and a good number of AP classes. Unfortunately, those universities sure don't give scholarships like state schools do.

Tech gave me a good scholarship, was in my state, and was where God was leading me. I sure didn't see His Divine Plan in all this.

He did bless me, though, by sending a dear friend to the same college. Kevin was a friend of mine from high school. He'd remained a devout Catholic through high school and into college. He was the one who encouraged me to go to Raider Awakening. I told him I didn't want to go and he worked it out so that I didn't even have to pay - just pack and show up.

So I did. In line is where I met the man ordained by God to be my husband. A bee had landed on my shoulder. For those who know me and my numerous phobias, bees rank pretty high. I've never been stung and 28 years of not-being-stung builds up in my mind to a really, really painful experience. Who should sweep in to swipe the bee from my shoulder, but my future husband?

He recalls that I was wearing a hipster outfit. My hair was short and I was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. I think I had more fashion sense than that.

Clearly, Joseph misremembers how fashionable I was.

I remember him wearing a double horse pearl snap shirt. It's as bad as you're imagining right now. I think he was actually wearing an orange button-down, but when I think of college-Joseph, I think of that hideous horse shirt.

We talked. There was mutual attraction. And then we went our separate ways. We crossed paths a few times over the following three days, but retreats being what they are, we were busy and focused on other things.

As the weeks progressed, I remember only crossing paths with Joseph a few times, and each time, I was really attracted to him. And I was pretty sure he was attracted to me. But nothing happened.

For two years.

Nothing lined up for us to admit our feelings for each other. I had a crush on another guy and Joseph had his own crushes and girlfriends. He was a bit of a heartthrob in our little Catholic community. You see, his played guitar, was tall, and had a popular dad. He could dance and did, when we'd go out country dancing in a big group. One of a very small number of young men who actually danced. He dressed hipster-chic (also known as buying his clothes from a thrift store), which made him part of the cool crowd (he denies - whatever. Social outcast over here says he was in the cool group.). He had puppy dog brown eyes, spiky brown hair, was fun and hilarious, and was a faithful young Catholic man. Everyone wanted to go on a date with this guy.

He sometimes dances better than this. Sometimes not.

Remember I said hilarious?

Joseph recalls going up to me one night after a social gathering with the intention of asking me on a date. While mindlessly chatting about who knows what, another girl walked up to us and asked Joseph out. He accepted. And it was another year before we started dating. THAT'S how the first two years of our friendship went. Bad, bad timing in our minds, but all ordained by the Creator of all.

He knew we were two immature teenagers who needed to grow to love Him above all else. I truly believe that He protected our hearts from each other for those first two years and our friendship grew into something stable and deep.

But finally, finally, after two years, things lined up.

I had fallen pretty hard for Joseph, but he had a girlfriend who was also an acquaintance of mine. I remember going into a little side chapel before Holy Mass one day and kneeling down to ask Our Lord to take away any feelings I had for him. I could never do anything about them and I would never hurt my friend. I asked for peace and since I've never been super good at letting go of my own will, I added the little prayer that, "if we are meant to be together like I wholeheartedly think, would You just make him come to his senses and realize it? ThankyouverymuchandI'llneveraskYouforanythingagain."

It was while I was kneeling there that Joseph knelt next to me and asked for a prayer or two because he had just broken up with his girlfriend.

First thought - whoa, that was fast.

Second thought - an incredible sense of peace. At that moment, I knew, as crazy as it sounds, that I would be marrying this young man. And I'm pretty sure he knew he'd be marrying me.

We weren't even dating here and we did the prom-photo-underneath-the-garland thing.

The next part of this story is way more interesting, but first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes babies in the baby carriage, and then comes grocery shopping because apparently children need to eat.



And for the record, Joseph still has that horse shirt.

See? Ugly horse shirt.

Molly's birth story, a retelling :)

I’ve had God remind me in several ways in the past few weeks just how incredibly blessed I am. I tend to take things for granted; it’s a trait I’m desperately trying to change. God, I think, agrees. The most powerful means He’s used recently to remind me of how blessed I am is through a blog that I frequent. It’s the story of a mother who lost her little girl. I found it only a couple of weeks before Molly was born. I think the timing was perfect. I don’t know how many people have heard about our labor experience – it wasn’t the ideal situation that we hoped for. 

We went into our ob/gyn’s office on Tuesday morning for our bi-weekly biophysical profile of Molly. I had been on bed rest for about five weeks by this point and was going cabin (or as I called it, couch) crazy. I wasn’t allowed to finish shopping for Molly’s things, clean house, cook dinner, or even take a long, hot shower. It was really frustrating and I cried a lot. A lot of thanks went unsaid to Joseph during that time as he constantly reminded me with loving words that Molly was the reason for all it.

We went in for her BPP and everything looked perfect with our little angel, but my blood tests confirmed that I did, in fact, have pre-eclampsia at this point. Dr. Behan told us to be at the hospital at 8 that evening so that we could begin inducing labor. Unfortunately, I was only 2cm dilated and needed 8 more to go.

I lay in the hospital bed on Tuesday night, hooked up to an IV and with medicine in a place that no medicine should ever be, and I remembered Angie’s blog. Joseph was sleeping, as was anyone else that I could have talked to. I think it was about 12:30 in the morning. I kept thinking of poor Angie, her husband and daughters and especially of her little angel, Audrey, who she would never again get to hold or see or cuddle or kiss. I was really scared of what the next few hours (or what I thought would only be hours) would hold – labor is scary in general, and induced labor even scarier, but knowing that you are about to undergo an induced labor in the next few hours is one of the most daunting anticipations I have ever dealt with.  

But then I began to re-read Angie’s story. I stayed awake for hours just reading her words and crying. A good friend of mine stumbled upon the same story today [this is a really old draft, so this actually happened a couple of months ago!] and emailed me about her reaction to it. She wrote that Audrey and Angie’s story “brought her to her knees.” It did me, too. Here I was feeling sorry for myself because I wouldn’t have a natural labor. Because I was being induced two weeks early so that my baby would be born healthy; so that I would be healthy enough to hold her and love on her. Because my doctor cared enough about me to give me a chance at a vaginal delivery rather than taking me straight into a c-section which he thought might be best.

And there was Angie. Burying her 3-hour old daughter.

I thanked God for the first time with my heart in about five weeks that night. I thanked Him for the Pitocin that I had disdainfully looked down upon for months; I thanked Him for the contractions that piled up on top of one another; I thanked Him for the medical bills that, too, had piled up on top of one another for months. The Pitocin meant that a vaginal delivery was possible; contractions meant that Molly was, indeed, coming for us to hold and kiss; and the bills meant that we would both be there for it.

The next could of days were a blur. I was given some medicine to help me rest and it affected me a lot. After a couple dozen hours in labor, I finally asked for an epidural. I remember getting it (what a memory to actually remember…geez!). Not as bad as you’d think, for the record. I was so scared that the nurse, April, who reminded me a lot of my sister-in-law, Dejah, cradled me as I cried through a contraction. I was mostly crying out of frustration that all my plans of having an unmedicated labor were quickly going down the drain. I didn’t want an epidural – I wanted to fully experience the joy of giving birth. I felt like a failure as a mother already. I felt like this was one step closer to getting a c-section and missing the birth of our baby girl entirely.

God has His plans for everything, as I would find out in just a couple dozen more hours.

Finally, the time to push came! It was after noon on Thursday. I only pushed for a couple of hours. We ended up having to use a suction cup as well as the forceps to help Molly come out. She was born at 3:29 on Thursday, April 24. It was a really hard labor, but she was finally here! I remember the look on Joseph’s face whenever she came out. He looked exhausted; I bet he was – he’d been standing next to the bed for hours helping me push! I remember watching the nurse take Molly to get cleaned up. I think I remember asking to hold her right away, but I was told I couldn’t. I wanted to nurse her so that we would have our bonding moment that I had waited months for. I remember thinking, “gee, the hard part is over, why is it hurting even more now?”

I asked Dr. Behan to stop trying to deliver the placenta for just a little bit so I could hold Molly. Actually, I said, “Ow, that hurts. Can you wait a minute to do that?”

He didn’t answer me.

“Can you just wait a little bit? It really hurts.”

I was looking at Molly this whole time, so I didn’t see the doctor until right then. I looked over at him and I remember how determined he looked. Focused, maybe. Then I looked at the nurse, because, really, are placentas that hard to deliver?

“If I stop now, you’ll bleed out.”

I vaguely remember a nurse saying that Molly had to be taken to the nursery because her heart rate was too fast. Then I vaguely remember Dr. Behan calling for an OR team and some extra nurses. I remember asking to hold Molly, but I wasn’t allowed to since my body was undergoing some kind of traumatic stress. I remember my heart hurting so much because I wouldn’t be able to bond with my baby the way every good mother should, so I’d read. The nurse (Alice now…who reminded me of Sarah Webb) laid Molly down next to me. She was so tiny, wrapped in a swaddled blanket. I couldn’t hold her, but I touched her face.  I don’t remember how long she lay next to me, but it really felt like the world stood still. I don’t remember Joseph, the doctor, the nurses, the OR team. No one. I just remember touching my sweet little girl’s face and looking at her for the very first time.

Then they took her away to the nursery. Apparently, Joseph was told to leave the room at some point (maybe that’s why I don’t remember him being there…), so he followed Molly up to the nursery. I remember a flurry of people and feeling a lot of pain. I was given some sort of medicine and I don’t remember anything until several hours later.

When I woke up, Dr. Behan and Joseph were in the room. When I thought that Dr. Behan was delivering the placenta, he was actually fixing a uterine inversion. It’s a rare occurrence in delivery, but it does happen. Dr. Behan, who’s been delivering babies for ten years, had only come across it once before in his career. Once again, I felt like a failure. It was my fault that I couldn’t hold my own baby after she was born. It was my fault I don’t remember the majority of her birth. It was my fault that instead of basking in the joy of new motherhood, I was hooked up to machines and drifting in and out of consciousness. 

I didn’t get to hold Molly and truly meet her until seven hours after she was born. I still don’t remember a lot of it, but I have pictures to help jog my memory. We stayed in the hospital for two more days. It was during those two days that I think I lost all sense of modesty. I had undergone fourth-degree tearing, had an episiotomy, an inverted uterus and lost a lot of blood. There wasn’t a whole lot of things I could do by myself, so nurses helped me do pretty much everything. I was completely dependent. A lot of unsaid thanks, once again, goes to Joseph for his understanding, help and patience during those first few days (and all that he does for our family everyday!), as well as to my sister and mom for coming down to help out after we got out of the hospital.

Once again, I considered myself a failure. I was blessed with being put in charge of this tiny new little life and I couldn’t even stand up. It took several days for me to get back to being somewhat normal. By the time I left the hospital, I could stand and walk. Sitting took a few days and sitting up form a lying down position took several more.

What took the most amount of time to heal was my pride. My whole labor plan was laid out…literally, in writing. I had given it to Dr. Behan weeks earlier. I guess I forgot to give it to God.

I wanted to be at home until the last possible moment during my labor. Uncheck.

I wanted to have a natural, unmedicated labor. Double uncheck.

I did NOT under any circumstances want an epidural. Uncheck.

I didn’t want an episiotomy. Uncheck.

I wanted to nurse Molly within minutes of her birth. Uncheck. 

God showed me a lot in those few days. He showed me how His plan exceeds all that we could ever hope for. If I had not had an induced labor, my pre-eclampsia could have turned into a very dangerous eclampsia where mine and Molly’s lives could have been endangered. If I hadn’t accepted medicine, especially an epidural, the pain of the inverted uterus would have been unbearable. I felt incredible amounts of pain after already having had meds and the epidural. What would it have been like otherwise? I don’t even want to think about it. If I hadn’t had the episiotomy, my tearing would have been much more severe and the consequences could have been worse than merely not being able to stand for a few days.

Ultimately, God showed me, once again, this His plans aren’t meant to hurt us in anyway. Just as a father cares for his child, so He cares for us. I did what was best for our situation, and though it took me months to come to terms with our labor, I finally did. God taught me patience, understanding and I think granted me even a little bit of motherly wisdom during those four days. He definitely taught me humility. But most of all, He taught me thankfulness.

This is where my story winds back to Angie’s. I didn’t have the labor I wanted; my mothering didn’t begin, and still continues, to follow a path I never expected it to follow, but I have the gift of motherhood. Angie, too, shares that gift, but she isn’t able to hold her youngest daughter as I am able to hold Molly. There are moments when motherhood is hard, when I just want to be selfish when I am called to be selfless. I have to remind myself on a daily basis that God has given me a gift that He doesn’t even grant His highest angels – He has blessed me with the privilege of sharing in His creative image and ultimately (hopefully!!!) bringing a new soul into eternal happiness. Angie’s story reminds me of that and helps me to keep my own blessings and trials in perspective. I guess that’s why I shared our story; though it pales next to Angie’s beautiful story, it taught me and still teaches me so much.

I think I’m going to go thank God for each mommy-trial and mommy-tribulation that I had today…just to let Him know I’m thankful for each moment. And then I’ll cuddle with Molly as she sleeps.

A letter to my five-year old daughter

My sweet Molly-girl,

What do I say to the precious soul who made me a mommy? How do I convey to you the joy that you bring me every single day? You're now five years old. No longer a baby, beyond preschool, and growing into a young girl. How can I express to you how proud I am and how sad I am that this is happening so quickly?

 I once read about a mother who was never bothered with one of her daughters getting out of bed over and over because that child required so little of her attention during the day and the mother happily gave it at bedtime.

I try to remember that with you, my love. You are just naturally good. You don't struggle with many of the things that other children your age struggle with. I've introduced you to our dear friend St. Therese of the Little Flower because of this and have asked for her special protection over you. Like you, she had a naturally proclivity toward Good. You bask in the joy of serving your mama through chores or drawings or bringing me something I might want or need. You can't wait to share with your daddy the good things that you've accomplished throughout the day. And when your little sister is sad, you run to bring her a favorite toy or food to make her feel better. When babies fuss in your presence, you silly dance for them or play peek-a-boo until they're belly-laughing. And on the very frequent rare occasion of you happening upon your mama crying from fatigue or overwhelmedness, you always, always crawl up into my lap and just hold me until I'm okay.

Where do you get that from, other than directly from the hand of God, sweet girl? How were we blessed with our oldest - the child who will set the example for all our others - to be so, so good? I've heard it said that children can see their angels until the mar of sin comes into their soul. I don't know how theologically sound that is, but your life has made me a believer of that. I feel that your angel guides you and teaches you better than I ever have.

You are drawn to Our Lord, most especially His Passion. You have a strong, strong devotion to The Stations of the Cross and ask pretty often if we can go to St. Joseph's to look at The Stations. You understand, already, the beauty of the Consecration at Mass - telling me almost every time that you can see the angels kneeling in the church after the bells ring. You love Our Blessed Mother and find great consolation in wearing a veil to be just like her, even if it sometimes itches or messes up your hair. I believe it was her intercession that gave you an innate sense of modesty (from which you derive the permission to point out to any and all who aren't dressed according to such standards, even if the unfortunate lady is a passer-by at the store....). You really are drawn toward pretty clothes, which I love, because I am, too. I can't help but get excited about future shopping excursions with you because those are even fun now, when you're such a young girl.

You've never paused at praising your sister for her achievements. You were always the first to clap when she jumped higher, ran faster, or swung higher than you. You praise her when she colors a picture in a way that you think is pretty. You make sure to tell her how pretty she looks in a dress. Your friendship with her is inspiring and I pray that you foster this, because your sister admires you in everything you do, my girl, and models her life around you. It's a big job that you've been tasked. I would trust no other.

You have such a loving heart, but your shyness holds you back just a little bit. You've come leaps and bounds from where you were even a year ago, though! I can tell when you get nervous but you're trying to be brave. You do one of two things - you say, "you're funny!" or you quickly rub your Snood's feet across your face. Yep, you still have your Snood and you love him more than all your toys combined, I think. You're slow to venture into a friendship with other girls your age, but once you warm up, you can't stop laughing and chattering with them about who knows what. It warms my heart. We've raised you to be able to socialize with people of all ages, and though you're still learning how to do this (so am I), I'm proud of you for being able to talk to babies all the way through adults.

One of my favorite memories of you happened just last week. At a gathering, you played with a little girl, over twice your age, who struggles with autism. The other girls your age holed up with a cartoon, which you did want to watch, but we encouraged you to play outside instead. This little girl wanted to play with you and your sister and instead of ignoring her or running away like the other children do around her, you played a game of tag with her. I don't know when I've been prouder of you or you sister. It brought tears to my eyes and I thanked Our Lord for His grace to help us do something right.

You aren't without your struggles, though. I think your pride will keep you from going places, my love, just like your mama. You are a perfectionist and unless you are sure you can do something, you prefer not to try it. You'll say that you were teasing or tricking us when you misspeak or mistell a story. I know that struggle well, little love, and I pray daily that God gives you the grace to overcome and me the grace to help guide you past it. It's a constant struggle for me and I don't want that for you. You'll find yourself wishing you had tried more or spoken just a little louder too often. I pray that one day I can teach you that humility comes through recognizing our talents as God-given, not in suppressing them out of fear of failure or recognition. I pray (honestly, I pray) that you will use your brilliance and natural goodness for His greater glory by not leaving undone the good you can do, for in that we can lose ourselves just as easily as we can in doing evil.

You are brilliant, my girl. You flew through your pre-k work and you're halfway through kindergarden. And that's without our doing schoolwork regularly. In fact, you beg me to give you schoolwork! You're great at learning through worksheets but you're beginning to find joy in tactile approaches, as well. We briefly studied Impressionism a couple of months ago, just to give you a taste of art history, and you asked if you could have an Impressionist birthday party because you loved the style so much.

You will show people, Molly, what it means to have one's soul drawn and lifted toward beauty. Your daddy and I espouse the belief that art in all forms, should lift one's soul toward the Heavens - toward Truth and Beauty. You show us that in your innocent way. You love classical pieces, Gregorian chant, beautiful, modest clothes, stunning art. You don't mean to yet, but one day, I think God will use this in you to help others learn the beauty of what art should bring.

Your mind is never satisfied. You love going to the museum and even prefer the Tech museum over the children's museum because you're able to look at fossils and old dresses and beautiful paintings. You crave more knowledge and get so excited when you figure out how something works. You are constantly talking (which soooommmmmeeeetimes might drive me crazy) or singing which I think is your way of myelinating your neurons and figuring out our beautifully created world.

You have a very forgiving heart. Yesterday, during mama's most recent melt-down, I yelled at you girls for no good reason. I got on the floor and apologized to you girls while hugging you. In response to my saying that I know I mess up a lot, but I am sorry, you said that you forgave me and you will always forgive me because you love me. How do you already know that, love? Surely, somewhere along the way, your daddy and I have taught you that. But when and how? You know more in your young age than so many people in this world don't understand - that love is a choice and an action, not a feeling. You choose to love someone everyday with sacrifices and forgiveness and trudging through the bad and finding the good. May you always know that perseverance and wisdom.

Your daddy loves you. Your sister loves you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I pray that my love you gives you a glimpse of how infinitely Our Blessed Mother and God love you. Endlessly and forever. I'm in awe that they've entrusted your little soul to my care and guidance. Or perhaps they've entrusted mine to you. Either way, I'm thankful for His trust.

Is this enough to tell you that you're one of my best friends? That I truly and utterly love being around you? That you make being a mama easy? You inspire me toward holiness, my girl. I can see why the family unit is a domestic church. I try to lead you toward Heaven and you can't help but lead me there.

With all my love,
Mama

Little Darlin'

Our sweet Ellie is hilarious. She's just naturally funny. Most things she says just has me laughing.

One of my favorite things she does is insistent on is being called darling, when being referred to with a pet name. Joseph has called the girls "little bears" since they were born, but somewhere along the way, he and I started calling her, "darling," as well.

Each one of our girls also has a song that belongs to them (or so they think). Both songs are by Old 97's - "Miss Molly" (obvious for which daughter) and "Sweet Blue-Eyed Darlin'" for Ellie. Maybe this contributed to her preference for being called darling?

At the local consignment sale last weekend, when I was buying the girls some summer clothes, I found a cute little shirt that says, "Daddy's Little Darling" and it was only $1.50! Of course I read it to Ellie and her eyes lit up and begged that we get it for her (which I'd already planned on doing, so it worked out. We call that a win-win-win in our home.). Despite also getting her a puppy t-shirt and a Dora t-shirt (also picked out by Ellie-Darlin'), she asks to wear her "Daddy's Darlin'" shirt every single day. And when she spills something on it (within two minutes of her putting it on, because she's a total mess), she gets so, so distraught because her Daddy's Darlin' shirt is messy.

She's such a joy.

Here are a few pictures she asked me to take of her. The first is of her wearing her Daddy Darlin' shirt, her new church hat (which she refuses inside a church, ironically), and her sunglasses.

Ellie trying on hats while Mama desperately searches for a pink cardigan to make my black dress Eastery. For the important record: pink cardigan not found.

Daybook for 3-27-13

Outside my window...

• Still dark, at 7:20am. The moon woke me up at about 5am because it was so bright. My mind was convinced that it was closer to 7 and I couldn't go back to sleep. It was a beautiful moon and I really enjoy greeting the morning with my husband, some coffee, and quiet time with Our Lord (that lasted for like two minutes because the girls woke up soon after).

I am thankful for...

• Passiontide and Holy Week. This has been a fruitful Lent and I pray that this last week of penance will help my soul grow into holiness and help prepare my soul for the joy that is coming on Sunday. The Triduum is my very favorite set of feasts during the year. 

• Books. They get me through mundane days of chores. I reward myself for doing a chore with a chapter or ten or twenty.

• This is redundant, but my husband. He truly is such a blessing. 

• My sweet, innocent little girls. 

• Recipes from the older ladies in Slaton. I have a nice little booklet of them and I flipped through yesterday and planned dishes for Easter from them. I love anything passed on from generation to generation and I feel like they shared a part of their family history with this young wife who has no claim to cooking fame.
• Finding a gorgeous, affordable dress at Kohl's last night. And by that, I mean I met a friend up there while running errands in town to give her a ride back into Slaton and she had found it and then I copied her and bought it, too. We won't wear it at the same time (we have four dresses that are exactly the same [at least four, maybe more!], and have never matched....completely.)! We just both have a great sense of style!

I am thinking about...

• On Passion Sunday (in the Tradtional Rite, please excuse my ignorance on the Novus Ordo on this), the Sunday before Palm Sunday, all holy images are veiled. I once heard in a sermon the following explanation of Church tradition:
  Beginning on Passion Sunday, images are veiled so the emotional side of seeking God is removed. We can no longer look at beautiful paintings or statues or crucifixes to lift our souls into prayer. We have to seek Him intellectually. On Holy Thursday, the Blessed Sacrament and Holy Water are removed from the church; we literally have to seek His Presence elsewhere. On Good Friday, The Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, is taken away and we are left with Good Friday liturgy (Mass of the Presanctified). On Holy Saturday, at Easter Vigil, even light is taken away. Our senses are forced into confusion and a little bit of fear (don't lie and act like it doesn't make you panic for a moment when the church goes completely black!....the priest did not say this, this is Melanie's commentary. He is much holier than I.). We are left with nothing, except hope, just like the disciples were 2000 years ago. 
  Isn't that beautiful? In our little family, we also fast from technology and light. Does that sound weird? We do our best to avoid internet use, kindles (uuuughhh), phones, radios, TV, and even electricity when we come home from Holy Thursday Mass and do our best to maintain it throughout the Triduum (obviously some has to be used!). Last year was the first time we did it and it was beautiful to enter into the holiest of days in such a way. This year, Joseph is traveling on Good Friday and Holy Saturday, so phones won't be counted into this.

***edited to remark that the technology fast did not happen this year. Next year! Next year!****

• Joseph's big, big job interview on Holy Saturday. At first, I was indignant that he has one on such a holy day, but then I wanted to slap myself because what better day to have an important, much-prayed-for event to happen on? 

• Also thinking about how I forgot, for the fourth week in a row, to get printer paper at Wal-Mart. This will affect my answer to the next question. 

In the Schoolroom...

Very, very organic learning. We have no paper on which to print out worksheets. 

From the kitchen...

Remember that attempt to go paleo? I didn't either.

I am creating...

• Pretty outfits for three banquet-type events we have next week. April 3,6,9. Come on, people. I need to repeat outfits and I can't do that if they are only a few days apart each. And with the same people. Rest assured, I will be repeating for the hooding ceremony.

• Invitations for my younger sister's (hi, Meg) bridal shower. And by I am, I mean Joseph is. But I will do wording and mailing. Consider myself praised. 

• Announcements for Joseph's graduation. I joke that we don't know anyone. Until we put together a list of people we need to send announcements to and then I want to throw up at all the people we know.

I am working on...

• Pretty outfits. Several fancy (but not too dressy!) ones that I need in the coming weeks. Accessories that will go with all of them so I don't have to buy too much. (I like clothes, what can I say?)

• Wisdom, gentleness, charity, humility.  Always. That seems a lot more intimidating now that I type it out.
• Diversifying my cooking. 

Clicking Around...

• http://www.audiosancto.org/sermon/20030116-Family-Virtues.html
  Great sermon. Listen to it, most especially if you have children.

I am reading...

• The Mother of the Little Flower about Blessed Zelie Martin. I love this little book and I think every mother should read it.

• Just finished some books by Lynn Austin not even worth mentioning, so I'm currently in between novels. 

I am praying for...

• Still, our new papa.

• A job, particularly a job with the firm Joseph is interviewing with this week (no particular reason other than he's interviewing with it)

• Some special, quiet intentions. Any sacrifices or prayers offered up for them, as well, would be much appreciated. 

I am hearing...

Story Keeper's in the background. My mantra this week is, if the kids have to watch TV, make it Biblical at least. 

Around the house...

• Cleaning and preparing for our Easter guests. Obviously not too much since I'm doing this. I finally caught up with ironing and laundry from our bought with stomach bugs! Back patted.

• That herb garden I mentioned? The cilantro was too far gone for me to save, apparently. We're down to mint, chives, and swiss chard. And aloe vera! Did I mention that? We've even used it already! Molly fell off our porch and scraped her face pretty badly. After a few applications of aloe straight from the plant, it's GONE. 

One of my favorite things...

• A cup of coffee in a quiet house early in the morning. 

• Preparing for my little girl's FIFTH birthday. I've been searching for a good gift for her. Any suggestions, moms out there? I love birthdays (or holidays, or half-holidays, or special feast days!) and that love has been passed down to her (a frequent question in our house is, "Mommy, what feast day is it?"). She's such a joy and a help and I want to celebrate her beautiful life so that she remembers it.

• Ellie's "Darling" shirt. I'll write a post about that soon.

A few plans for the rest of the week...

• Triduum and all that goes with it. 

• Easter! A brother-in-law and his wife (that feels cold and unfeeling...how could I better explain this?) getting their marriage blessed and recognized by The Church. The same wife (I can call her a sister-in-law now!) coming into The Church. 

• A job interview!

A picture thought...

This was the first year we've veiled the holy images in our home. The girls got really excited and Molly even made crucifixes out of construction paper so we could veil more images. Unfortunately, I'd run out of purple fabric. I'm glad for the excuse because I think she would have made about 1000 more holy images. 

The veiling was truly, a blessing for our family. We've placed these images around our home as an external reminder of what our interior should be focused on. I've been particular about where I place certain holy cards or little statues, knowing that they are "hot spots" for frustration or anger (washing dishes, our school area, our living room). Being able to quickly glance at an image of Our Lady holding the Baby Jesus was more calming than I realized. Veiling these images truly did take away an emotional seeking of God and left me seeking Him more in prayer than a quick glance at an image. 

Passiontide, you've been good for me.

*Yes, I know they are cut haphazardly and aren't ironed. It's all in the name of humility or laziness. You pick.*

Daybook for 3-13-13

Outside my window...

Windy! West Texas winds never fail. It's also beautiful, sunny, and the perfect combo of warm and cool when the dust isn't pelting your face.

I am thankful for...

The traditions of Holy Mother Church. Watching the coverage of the announcement of Pope Francis today, sitting next to my husband and two girls, was beautiful. It reminds me why I cling so strongly to the Traditional Mass. The pomp and circumstance we saw today (and in the Latin Mass) is what Catholics, ages before us, have witnessed.  

For spring break. I'm only one kid down during this week, but one kid does make a difference. Joseph is home a wee bit more this week, too!

Second job interviews. On Holy Saturday, one of the holiest days of the year. Penance and sacrifice for this intention? I'll take two. Ora pro nobis, all of Heaven.

I am thinking about...

Pope Francis. Trying to remember this momentous day. And praying for his reign.

Also, equally important, my Easter outfit.

(I kid. It's more important.)

(I kid again.)

In the Schoolroom...

Reading, reading, reading. That smart girl of ours scored 8/20 levels on a reading placement test that tested through age seven. She's got a natural proclivity toward geography, history, English, math, science, religion, languages...wait. I'm in trouble.

From the kitchen...

Trying to go paleo. Failing miserably. I like grain. I also frequently get sick after eating. Something's gotta give!

I am creating...

Boxes of packed items. I know we're not moving for months more, but I hate moving and I want to pack what we're not using. I just purged our biggest junk areas and hope to do one more round before the boxes are packed up. How do we have so much stuff we never, ever use?

I am working on...

Peace in all things. I'm such an anxious sort that any kind of change stresses me out and my weak little mind jumps to worst-case scenarios. 

A routine! Why can't I figure out a balance between school, cooking, loving on my two (three!) girls, and cleaning???? WHY?

Graduation! Announcements, presents, housing for out-of-town guests, job search, etc.! Who knew that I was supposed to have this all planned out months before it happens?

Lent. It's almost over and I feel like it hasn't been as fruitful as it could have been.

Clicking Around...

Pope coverage.

I am reading...

A Light To My Path by Lynn Austen. I read The Chronicles of the Kings by the same author and I LOVED it. This series is okay, but definitely not as good as Chronicles. 

I am praying for...

Our new papa - for his strength of faith, for his orthodoxy, the courage to clean house.

A job. A job, dear Lord, a job. Please. 

I am hearing...

LOST in the background, Joseph playing a game on his computer, quiet from the girls' room. Peace, joy, love.

Around the house...

Piles of purged items. Donate! Save! Throw away! Why do we have all this stuff? I hope the piles get removed from my house tomorrow.

A new herb garden! Mint, cilantro, chives, swiss chard, aloe vera. I can't wait for this little collection to grow. I love growing and nurturing things. Kind of sounds like I'm a Catholic mama, huh?

One of my favorite things...

Cauliflower pizza crust. Google it. Love it. Eat it oft.

Our trash can. I'm in a purging mood. 

LOST. Always with Lost. The show by which we judge all other shows.

Chronicles of the Kings, Mark of the Lion - I couldn't think of anything else, so I put my favorite books up.

A few plans for the rest of the week...

Tomorrow - purge! clean! Easter is coming! Graduation nears! A move looms! If I'm going 
to feel anxiety, I'm going to do something about it, at least.

Friday - a consignment sale to buy our growing girls wardrobes since they have approximately no spring/summer clothes; then a day off. Joseph and I both agreed to give each other one full day off during Spring Break. I plan on reading and sleeping intermittently. 

A picture thought...

I don't know much about the new Vicar of Christ, our Supreme Pontiff, our visible Head of the Church, but I do know this quote does much to calm my anxiety in regard to any misgivings. It was said to St. Francis of Assisi (who some say Our Holy Father chose his name from) by Our Lord. May he truly repair. And clean house. :-D