Belated All Saints' Business
I'm sure you understand why I didn't post our All Saints' Day activities; Anna was all of five days old when we suited up the boys to attend our parish's All Saints' party.
Besides simply being worn out from having such a new baby, the entire day was a crazy scene. To give you some perspective, the previous evening, Patrick tucked the kids in, I sat on the couch nursing the baby, and my mom took it upon herself to sew the boys' costumes.
(We already had a cassock for Isaiah, as it was a hand-me-down from Noah {the story of my poor middle child's life} but she needed to sew a cassock for Noah and a surplices for each child.
Their one request was to go as altar boys. The "saint" part was completely irrelevant to them.
{In an attempt to catechize them, however, Patrick and I would correct them whenever they said they were 'altar boys' and tell them they were St. Dominic Savio and St. John Berchmans.}.)
Within moments of her sitting down to sew, the fan belt broke off the sewing machine and flew wildly across the dining room. This was a sturdy old-school Singer that my mom's neighbour had given her to give me, and Mom had it repaired for me just a week before she came to Ontario. Why did it do this?!
(I think this is the third sewing machine she or I have broken while attempting a project for me. Perhaps I need to accept my fate and pick up crocheting, or something?)
So she had to spend the entire day of Halloween, when the party was happening, sewing by hand the costumes. Saintly, saintly woman.
Oh, and see those wooden chairs, stacked on the tables? I sat perched on one for several hours while the party happened. Not advisable when you just gave birth.... So very uncomfortable!
I am really grateful we live in this funky little Catholic world on days like this. These Sisters hosted the party and did a great job. If it had been up to me, my kids would NOT have celebrated All Saints' Day, and certainly not with such pomp. Again, that five days postpartum thing really tends to slow a woman down....
It's great to outsource some of the work of observing the liturgical year!
Also, in an effort to give you a balanced view of what life is like these days, despite how glowing my report of my First Day was, I assure you, alas, my Second day lacked the same spark.
Big time.
No crafts, dirty dishes on the counter and every table, unfolded laundry attempting to drown us all, tempers flaring from the kids and me, a husband out for the morning leaving the anti-homesteader home to figure out how to light the wood stove (with no success), and a baby who poops like a chain smoker: almost every single time I unfasten the previous poopy diaper and slide it out from under her, she poops again, and it lands on her sleeper.
I won't be writing a blog post about such a day, mostly because I hasten to photograph messes, both literal and emotional, but also because whining about my inadequacies and my kids' frustrating qualities is not something I want to do online.
But my unpleasant day happened, as many more will, I'm sure. And we survived.
In closing, I can't not include this, it was too priceless.
This morning my boys got along together - briefly - and Noah said "Mommy, take some pictures of us playing nicely together and put it on your blog!"
Yes, that's precisely why I have a blog, to remember the moments of happiness and peace even among the craziness.
Besides simply being worn out from having such a new baby, the entire day was a crazy scene. To give you some perspective, the previous evening, Patrick tucked the kids in, I sat on the couch nursing the baby, and my mom took it upon herself to sew the boys' costumes.
(We already had a cassock for Isaiah, as it was a hand-me-down from Noah {the story of my poor middle child's life} but she needed to sew a cassock for Noah and a surplices for each child.
Their one request was to go as altar boys. The "saint" part was completely irrelevant to them.
{In an attempt to catechize them, however, Patrick and I would correct them whenever they said they were 'altar boys' and tell them they were St. Dominic Savio and St. John Berchmans.}.)
Within moments of her sitting down to sew, the fan belt broke off the sewing machine and flew wildly across the dining room. This was a sturdy old-school Singer that my mom's neighbour had given her to give me, and Mom had it repaired for me just a week before she came to Ontario. Why did it do this?!
(I think this is the third sewing machine she or I have broken while attempting a project for me. Perhaps I need to accept my fate and pick up crocheting, or something?)
So she had to spend the entire day of Halloween, when the party was happening, sewing by hand the costumes. Saintly, saintly woman.
But the boys were delighted by the results.
(Also, this photo was taken 10 minutes before the party began,
and as you can see, Isaiah has no surplice on.
It's because my mom was still hand-sewing.
Again, saintly woman!)
And the party was great fun, too.
Lots of games for the wee ones, plus the excitement of candy AND costumes.
Lots of games for the wee ones, plus the excitement of candy AND costumes.
And our little celebrity met our neighbours, the Sisters of Our Lady Immaculate.
Oh, and see those wooden chairs, stacked on the tables? I sat perched on one for several hours while the party happened. Not advisable when you just gave birth.... So very uncomfortable!
* * *
I am really grateful we live in this funky little Catholic world on days like this. These Sisters hosted the party and did a great job. If it had been up to me, my kids would NOT have celebrated All Saints' Day, and certainly not with such pomp. Again, that five days postpartum thing really tends to slow a woman down....
It's great to outsource some of the work of observing the liturgical year!
* * * * *
Also, in an effort to give you a balanced view of what life is like these days, despite how glowing my report of my First Day was, I assure you, alas, my Second day lacked the same spark.
Big time.
No crafts, dirty dishes on the counter and every table, unfolded laundry attempting to drown us all, tempers flaring from the kids and me, a husband out for the morning leaving the anti-homesteader home to figure out how to light the wood stove (with no success), and a baby who poops like a chain smoker: almost every single time I unfasten the previous poopy diaper and slide it out from under her, she poops again, and it lands on her sleeper.
I won't be writing a blog post about such a day, mostly because I hasten to photograph messes, both literal and emotional, but also because whining about my inadequacies and my kids' frustrating qualities is not something I want to do online.
But my unpleasant day happened, as many more will, I'm sure. And we survived.
In closing, I can't not include this, it was too priceless.
This morning my boys got along together - briefly - and Noah said "Mommy, take some pictures of us playing nicely together and put it on your blog!"
Yes, that's precisely why I have a blog, to remember the moments of happiness and peace even among the craziness.
One of my greatest joys in the early years of our marriage was learning how to make a good fire in the woodstove. You will learn and come to appreciate your skill. It can be vital.
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