Mama-luia

 Isaiah: Mommy, please me have one of those cookies? Me: Sure. Isaiah: Yay! I love gluten! Gluten my favourite ! Me: No, these are gluten-free. Isaiah: What that? Me: They don't have gluten. Isaiah (despondently): But why ? (While playing The Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand") Noah: I like this music, Mommy. Is this The Wiggles? (While flipping through an illustrated children's Bible) Isaiah: Look, there's Jesus killing Moses. Me: No, Jesus didn't kill Moses. He didn't kill anyone . Noah: Well what about Noah and the flood? Me: ... Me (singing): "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore." Noah: That's a metaphor. Noah: Hey look, I drew a hashtag. (While looking at the flyers, which had a picture of a man with his pants around his ankles and the caption, 'We've dropped everything !') Noah: Oh no, that's not very appropriate! (Later, while Patrick was lighting the w...

This is the season of hope. Listen, listen carefully. "Oh come thou Dayspring, come and cheer / our spirits by thine advent here / Disperse the gloomy clouds of night / And death's dark shadows put to flight." Those words put to mournful melody aren't just the cry of God's chosen people awaiting their Savior. No, they are the cry of all of us right here and now, in the grace-filled days that still feel like days in the trenches. These words are our solace as we slug our way through the long dark nights, and the short, but frigid days, of winter. They are the hope for us parents who are stuck in the house all day with children experiencing tantrums, teething, cabin fever and night-wakings. They are the consolation for us who fret about our Christmas preparations and feel discouraged when there is more week than grocery budget, and still presents to account for as well. They are the balm for us who miss our families who suddenly feel further away ...

First off, St. Anthony, help me find my memory card so I can take less grainy photos of my family, especially since adorable Miss A. is growing so quickly! Amen. Moving on... Yesterday was the feast of St. Nicholas, one of my favourite days of the year. I love the tradition of children receiving treats in their shoes. Besides simply being childlike and delightful, it's so much more appealing to me than feast days where we have to start from scratch to think of a way to observe them. "Oh look, it's the feast of St. Sebastian, let's um... go play laser-tag!" Yes, that phenomenon -- being creative and original -- makes it so unlikely I'll actually follow through! But an age-old tradition of sweets in children's shoes? That I can do. They were so delighted by it all. Despite the extreme blurry iphone-ish-ness of this picture, it makes my heart so happy. Baby's First St. Nicholas Day.  "Isn't she looooove...

As I look back on each on my children's lives as babies, I am amazed at how each of their names suit them so well. Their names remind me not only of who they were, but how our relationship was. Noah's name means "peace" or "rest." That suits him so well, my dear little old soul. While he's definitely a typical little boy, with a keen imagination and a desire to play and run with his friends, he's so much of a retiring person as well, content to cosy up with his book du jour and some herbal tea. He is a restful child. Likewise, his name is a reminder of what he gave to me as a baby, what I most dearly needed. My life felt quite upturned by having a child. I truly felt like I had undergone an ontological change by becoming a mother, and it was rather painful at times. Yet his peaceful nature called out to me, "just rest, Mommy. Be ." Given how hard I found having one child was, I was rather frightened to have another one. ...

Advent is upon us. I am determined to make my heart ready. (Was this really only a year ago?  What sweet faces! And, my, how much these children have changed. How much our family has changed since then! A whole new unrepeatable soul has joined our quartet since last Advent.  Amazing .) So where was I? Oh yes, Advent. Well this year, Advent will be a lot more like this: A bit of a hazy blur, for mom at least. But still contentedly chugging along. Because there's this: Mild mayhem: broken sink and dishwasher. Yet the sight of Patrick spending his Sunday trying to fix them made me feel loved.  I am in love with such a boring man (who had to call a plumber, but I digress again). But there's also this: Having fun making crowns for the feast of Christ the King. And doing a little procession while singing "Crown Him with Many Crowns."  I made this silly banner for the piano which sparked the kids...

Last Wednesday afternoon, Patrick informed me he had to go to Ottawa for all of Thursday. I would be left home alone with the three kids for all three meals, as well as bedtime. I wasn't happy about this, to say the least. That morning, however, I remembered something a dear friend of mine said when her husband went away for a whole week, and she was left alone with their three kids, ages five and under. She said, instead of asking herself, "How can I get through this?" she asked herself "How can we get through this together ?" I thought that was a great attitude to adopt. Why see my kids as my adversaries, especially when they are actually kind, sweet and fun to be around? So with this in mind, I set about making it the best day I could. And it really went by beautifully. We enjoyed each other's company immensely -- finger-painting, going for a little walk to our local grocery store, reading books, not squabbling (!), and eating Kraft Dinner  I mea...

The bells being rung at our parish, by my niece, nephew and Isaiah. A joyful noise to celebrate the baptism of our sweet Anna. Our church is so beautiful. My dear little nephew, only four and a half, said so when he first walked in. A friend of ours, a priest at Madonna House, commented that in baptism "into the water goes a baby, but out of the water comes an icon of Christ." Amen.  Our little icon is glowing brightly now with much grace. And we were so delighted with such a beautiful baptismal day! After Sunday Mass a few weeks ago, the very same priest who married us baptized our third child (how much has changed in the five years since our wedding!). It was such a joyful celebration. My sister, Anna's godmother, commented later how the ceremony was a wonderful combination of "old school liturgical stylings" with comedic flair. For instance, dear Father Hattie, right after the beautiful prayers and anointing...