Mama-luia

7 Quick Takes:  Bringing  the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd  into the home At the end of November, a friend of mine and I launched the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd program in our parish. For those unfamiliar with the program, I believe this brief video captures it beautifully. We've had several sessions now, learning about the liturgical year and its colours, modelling how to slowly and reverently make the sign of the Cross, how to walk purposefully and quietly in the atrium -- in general, how to comport ourselves to be better equipped to participate in the Mass. We've also directed them with Montessori 'practical life' activities, such as pouring, scooping, threading beads, using tongs to pick things up to sort, and so on. They have eagerly learned about the globe and the land of Israel and have enjoyed being able to identify where Christ was born, lived and died and rose again. The delight with which these children receive these lessons is so gra...

"Matrimony is a Gospel in itself, a Good News for the world today, especially the dechristianized world." Pope Benedict XVI, Homily for the Mass for the Opening of the Synod of Bishops, 2012. (Photo cred) I tend to live my marriage as routine -- get up and feed children, make coffee for Patrick (or, just as often, drink the coffee he made me; thanks, dear), throw a load in the washer, throw a load in the dishwasher and play with kids. School pick-ups, dinner, readalouds and prayer time, and then in the final and peripheral moments of the day, speak with Patrick about what is on each of our minds (usually stuff related to the kids, funny or interesting things spotted online and super -fun budgeting conversations.). Lather, rinse, repeat. Rarely do I step back and look at the full picture of what we are living, because I'm up to my eyeballs in the daily maintenance of it. It's hard to think or feel anything is especially "holy" when it looks li...

So where was I? Goodness. Time just flies and flies on by. I am the self-appointed 'keeper of memories' at our home, in part because Patrick self-admittedly has a poor memory for details, so my lack of blogging feels like these memories will get otherwise lost. Must get back at it! *** So much of the time, I'm running through my days. I said wistfully the other day how I missed when Anna was a baby and the boys were too little for school. We made our own schedule and spent our days as we pleased. I read them the entire corpus of Laura Ingalls Wilder that year while nursing Anna... we made a lot of cookies... it was good and relaxed and peaceful. Now life feels like Hurtling them Into the Next Stage phase. Not that I am trying to make them grow up , but I mean my days are just so dictated by the getting ready for school, the decompressing from school, getting dinner on the table, getting bedtime going... there are so many routines to keep up that it feels like...

I can't believe I am about to say this but. . . there are only 155 days left until Christmas! (Now don't you just want to slap me?!) In all seriousness, though, I am ecstatic at the idea of Christmas '09. I am certain it is because it will be my first Christmas as a mom (with a child ex utero). Now we can establish our own family traditions, decorate our own tree, watch with delight as Noah opens his first Christmas presents. I might even cook a turkey! Why, though, am I blogging about this during the summer? Let me first say this: I have extremely high ideals for our family. I suppose this isn't different from most mothers! I regularly fantasize about a smooth blend of attachment parenting, distributism, delight-led learning (through Montessori and Waldorf-inspired education), apostolic farming and general togetherness centred around the liturgical year, with, of course, appropriate crafts to reflect the Church calendar. I realize I am not capable of meeting such high...

I have had a rough couple of nights, like any mom with a very young baby. Yet unlike most moms, the source of my sleeplessness has not been my baby, but rather, myself. I find myself wide awake at one, two, and three o'clock in the morning, near tears and feeling utterly helpless and weighed down with the immense responsibilities of raising an actual human being, something I feel so unworthy to do, and at which I feel hopelessly incapable of succeeding. Besides that, I find myself destraught at the the idea that I don't know when I'll get to see many of my best friends again, now that we've left Ontario. I hate the feeling that I will become the "peripheral friend". As in, when my name comes up in conversation, the response would be "Oh yeah, I vaguely remember her. But then she had a baby and up and moved away. Pass the Cheetos, would you?" Anyway, Sunday morning at Mass, I found myself for the first time in a long time praying from my heart. It wa...

Noah is not even three weeks old, and he has already gone on two road trips. Last weekend, we took him to Toronto to meet his very proud great-grandmother among other relatives. He was as cheerful as could be. Just this past weekend, we took him to our former Catholic mecca, Barry's Bay. What an angel he was, sleeping soundly in his carseat for what should have felt like a very long drive (it certainly did for me, the recovering c-section recipient, who tends to forget to "take it easy". Oy.). And of course, he was a star at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy's graduation ceremony. He even got an honourary mention on stage from John Yakabuski as being by far the youngest person in attendance, at the fresh-picked age of 17 days. What sticks out to me the most from this trip was the graduation Mass. I had hoped to nurse him when we arrived -- prior to Mass -- change his diaper, and even make myself look presentable. Given that we squealed into the church parking lot at 10:...

One year ago today, on the Feast of the Divine Mercy, my niece became a Christian. This day was significant to me not only because Norah is my niece, but she is also my godchild. I went through a very difficult Lent this past year. The Saturday before Lent began, two students from Our Lady Seat of Wisdom, both of whom I loved very much, died in a tragic car accident. When Ash Wednesday followed that week, the sense of usual sobriety of Lent was intensified with unspeakable tragedy and sorrow. I spent much of the next forty days contemplating death and how much I felt unprepared to face my own. It was a Lent unlike any other I had experienced. Easter Sunday itself was still thick with the haunting thought of these students' death. I ate a delicious Easter brunch with two friends and my then fiance, feeling solemnly, hesitantly festive for the Easter season; we looked from our dining table onto a spectacular view of the same lake that took these two young people so suddenly. Easter d...

I don't own a car. Heck, I don't even have my driver's license. This means I am familiar with a bunch of tediously humbling means of getting from here to there. Begging, pleading, looking tragic in the presence of those privileged enough to own a vehicle (this is especially effective when pregnant, I have discovered!) Public transit. I am a big fan of the Ottawa system (which means I obviously don't live there, and didn't have to suffer through the strike!) and the TTC impresses me, too. The HSR, however, not so much. . . . Over-priced taxi rides. And, for longer trips, the Greyhound. It is the Greyhound that has led to the most interesting of trips for me. I have yet to ride it without finding myself in a deep discussion about religion. I don't bring it up with the people around me. In fact, I normally try to sit quietly on my own, looking forward to reading or napping. Yet, without fail, a nearby passenger will ask me, "Where are you headed?...