Chatty things, links, Youtube clips and such
Summer-tiiiiiiime... and the livin' is...
noisy.
The livin' is noisy.
At 6:45pm this evening I was already curled up in the fetal position on the couch. Elijah was in bed but the other three were all frolicking around, hours of remaining daylight beckoned to us to go experience the great outdoors but all I could think of was "bed... now... please!" Patrick looked at me ruefully and said "you are welcome to do this in an hour, but for now, hang in there!"
In actual fact, the kids' antics today were pretty adorable. They spent a large portion of their afternoon getting ready a ventriloquism show for us, after I showed them some spectacular videos of a kid ventriloquist earlier today.
You really need to watch the video! It's amazing.
Actually, this one is even better:
It's pretty sweet how eager they all are now to throw their voices.
I've been playing a "self-care anthem" over and over lately, and it's so uplifting for me to hear, and also to watch dear little Anna throw her head back, eyes closed, and belt out the words. It's quite evident she's really moved by the song, and there is nothing so touching as witnessing a young child be moved spiritually.
The words of this song are so, so perfect for me and I love the singer's raspy beautiful voice:
And some wonderful news for any and all who care: Elijah is night-weaned (as of two weeks ago)! Uninterrupted sleep has evaded me for a long time now, and my two-AM devils are still swirling around somewhat, BUT at least I lie down at night knowing my kids are all peacefully sleeping in their beds and won't generally need me until sunup. That is a good, good feeling, people. Liberating. And it is such a treasure to wake up before my baby, pray and have a cup of coffee, run through my to-do list before I hear Elijah chatting to himself in his crib. I never thought this day would come. It has. Thank You, Jesus!
And yet, this piece touched me so, so much about the sacredness of night-nursing. Some of my most intimate encounters with who God is happened while looking after my nursing babies -- or sick children -- in the wee hours of the morning.
I loved this piece about the Fraternity that Patrick found today. I told him that one of my favourite bloggers has three, count 'em, three, brothers-in-law who are priests with the Fraternity, and he looked them up and found this piece. I found it very touching the details included about the priests' own father; he regularly prayed on his knees, throughout the day, which was a real witness to his children.
I also loved this piece by Simcha Fisher. Yes, yes, she's a post-stirrer. Don't let that deter you from reading this witty and insightful piece.
And my favourite, favourite link of all to share is this. It is so amazingly relatable -- from the grumpy mom at church on Mother's Day, to wishing for silence and order to be able to work on one's writing, to the romance of driving nowhere in particular with one's husband with a van full of kids. I've read it four times and each time something new makes me smile.
I bought myself a copy of "The Way" by St. Josemaria Escriva and it is just what I need right now in my life. He speaks with the same acerbic wit, wisdom and yet tenderness that speaks so much to me, (like my dear spiritual director, a man once likened to an Oreo cookie, for being salty and dry on the outside but very sweet on the inside). I think my spirit-animal is a jellyfish so I need to be spoken to like I am lacking a spine; the phrase "tough love" makes perfect sense to me and boy, I'm glad when I am on the receiving end of it. Dishing it out, though, as Mom, is hard for me.
One more song, from "Anne and Gilbert, The Musical." Our kids love to step-dance around the kitchen to it, and the words make me chuckle, because they seem as applicable to Maritimers from any province:
Well now! Wasn't this post decidedly nowhere and everywhere all at once? Happy Tuesday, everyone. May the rest of your week and mine involve far fewer tantrums than yesterday did at my house. Oi.
noisy.
The livin' is noisy.
At 6:45pm this evening I was already curled up in the fetal position on the couch. Elijah was in bed but the other three were all frolicking around, hours of remaining daylight beckoned to us to go experience the great outdoors but all I could think of was "bed... now... please!" Patrick looked at me ruefully and said "you are welcome to do this in an hour, but for now, hang in there!"
In actual fact, the kids' antics today were pretty adorable. They spent a large portion of their afternoon getting ready a ventriloquism show for us, after I showed them some spectacular videos of a kid ventriloquist earlier today.
You really need to watch the video! It's amazing.
Actually, this one is even better:
It's pretty sweet how eager they all are now to throw their voices.
I've been playing a "self-care anthem" over and over lately, and it's so uplifting for me to hear, and also to watch dear little Anna throw her head back, eyes closed, and belt out the words. It's quite evident she's really moved by the song, and there is nothing so touching as witnessing a young child be moved spiritually.
The words of this song are so, so perfect for me and I love the singer's raspy beautiful voice:
And some wonderful news for any and all who care: Elijah is night-weaned (as of two weeks ago)! Uninterrupted sleep has evaded me for a long time now, and my two-AM devils are still swirling around somewhat, BUT at least I lie down at night knowing my kids are all peacefully sleeping in their beds and won't generally need me until sunup. That is a good, good feeling, people. Liberating. And it is such a treasure to wake up before my baby, pray and have a cup of coffee, run through my to-do list before I hear Elijah chatting to himself in his crib. I never thought this day would come. It has. Thank You, Jesus!
And yet, this piece touched me so, so much about the sacredness of night-nursing. Some of my most intimate encounters with who God is happened while looking after my nursing babies -- or sick children -- in the wee hours of the morning.
I loved this piece about the Fraternity that Patrick found today. I told him that one of my favourite bloggers has three, count 'em, three, brothers-in-law who are priests with the Fraternity, and he looked them up and found this piece. I found it very touching the details included about the priests' own father; he regularly prayed on his knees, throughout the day, which was a real witness to his children.
I also loved this piece by Simcha Fisher. Yes, yes, she's a post-stirrer. Don't let that deter you from reading this witty and insightful piece.
And my favourite, favourite link of all to share is this. It is so amazingly relatable -- from the grumpy mom at church on Mother's Day, to wishing for silence and order to be able to work on one's writing, to the romance of driving nowhere in particular with one's husband with a van full of kids. I've read it four times and each time something new makes me smile.
This is the season of Writing After: after supper, after bath times, after stories, after kitchen dance parties, after bills are paid, after groceries are put away, after laundry is folded, after madcap craving runs for fast food in another country. I’ll write after those things. I write after it all, because this life is what I’m writing about.
I bought myself a copy of "The Way" by St. Josemaria Escriva and it is just what I need right now in my life. He speaks with the same acerbic wit, wisdom and yet tenderness that speaks so much to me, (like my dear spiritual director, a man once likened to an Oreo cookie, for being salty and dry on the outside but very sweet on the inside). I think my spirit-animal is a jellyfish so I need to be spoken to like I am lacking a spine; the phrase "tough love" makes perfect sense to me and boy, I'm glad when I am on the receiving end of it. Dishing it out, though, as Mom, is hard for me.
One more song, from "Anne and Gilbert, The Musical." Our kids love to step-dance around the kitchen to it, and the words make me chuckle, because they seem as applicable to Maritimers from any province:
Well now! Wasn't this post decidedly nowhere and everywhere all at once? Happy Tuesday, everyone. May the rest of your week and mine involve far fewer tantrums than yesterday did at my house. Oi.
Oh, I wept at that night nursing post. Especially the line about the baby looking just past our faces and not directly in our eyes and, "I suspect that I will love you far more then I love God."
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