Thursday, October 2, 2014

Stories from an Autumnal Hearth

Alternately Titled: I think that I shall never see...


The glorious autumn is flying by. It always does, of course—and I'm always tempted to feel melancholic and wistful—but then I think about heaven where the leaves never fall!

At least, I don't think they do...

So, so many seasons of life. Of all of them, fall's my favorite.

* * *

Here's a story:

George, the five-year-old, likes to go for moon walks. It's a tradition, just his mommy and him, although there are often siblings who like to tag along.

The other night it was just the two of us and the crisp fall evening was very dark. The stars were out; the moon was hiding; the brittle leaves rattled in the street.

"Are you scared?" I asked him, as we walked down the road.

"I'm not scared of anything!" he retorted.

"Except for zombies...if they were real."

* * *

Later that night, as we were cuddled up before bed, George began a game of Name the Saint. "I'm thinking of someone whose name starts with 'M'."

"St. Michael?" I ventured.  "You guessed it!" he said. "Your turn."

"Okay...I'm thinking of a saint whose name starts with 'A'."


"Yes. That was way too easy. Your turn."

He paused for a moment. "I'm thinking someone whose name begins with a 'B'."

"St. Benedict?"

"Is he a saint?" George looked confused.


"Uh...okay. Your turn."

"I'm thinking of a saint whose name begins with 'M'."


"We already used him. Guess again."


"I'll give you a hint. I was named after her."

"St. Mom!" he cried, and I started laughing. "Oh right," he blushed. "Is it St. Margaret?"

"Yep," I said. "Good job, buddy."

George grinned at his mistake, adding, "It would be really funny if Grandpa had named you Mom."

* * *

On Sunday, I snapped this picture of my hubby: 

Proof (like you needed it) that guys will change babies on any available surface.

Don't tell my friend Gina.

It was her garage.
* * *

Happy feast of the Holy Guardian Angels! Today {ahem} is my 48th birthday.

 Can you spare a prayer for this ol' gal?

Thursday, September 25, 2014

My Messy Life

"I love you, George!"

"I love you too, Mommy."

"Well, I love you all the way up to heaven!"

{George, thinking.}

"Well, I love you all the way up to heaven's ceiling!"

A blurry picture but you get the point. Oh, to be a kid again!

Yesterday, I said that 4-year-olds were awesome. Today, (and always), I'm thinking that 5-year-olds are awesome too.

But you knew that already, didn't you.

* * *

Had a hard conversation with the teen last night, about driving and safety and not driving because of not driving safely. Let's just say that I'm not feeling very popular today, which is a very hard feeling for a Sanguine/Melancholic.

Maybe I'll dye my hair red and see if that helps. 

 My view from the computer: Lesson plans, Latin, and a stray Trio eyeball. 
A prayer book, a Kleenex, and a cup of coffee. Now you know all that you need to know!

You think I'm kidding, don't you? The box has been sitting on the counter for three weeks, waiting for me to work up the gumption.

* * *

It's like everyday there is some big "hardship", some big challenge to overcome, and yet when we meet that challenge another one takes its place. I need to be careful to not be too driven, because this false sense of urgency is just that. It's false. There are highs and lows, always, and we (meaning "I") need to embrace them all.

This is my life. My messy life.

Rarely do I have the full picture, but I trust in God's providence...

...and cast away the fear.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Soccer Stories

The other day I was at the playground, (I tend to hang out at the playground a lot), this time with just my two little men. We were waiting for Jem (pictured below) to finish his soccer practice at an  adjacent field.

Francis was fussy 'cause he didn't want to go.

Lots of soccer = lots of waiting. I figure, might as well get myself some exercise and run the hyper toddler like a little Pamplona bull.

That's called a win-win situation.

There was only one other mom there--a very nice mom who didn't mind chatting. (Sometimes they do, you know--they avoid all eye contact like the plague and hide behind the screen of their smart phone.) "How old are your boys?" she asked, pushing her four-year-old on the swing.

"They're five and one and 1/2," I told her.

"Well, you're busy!" she said. "Yes, I am," I replied, thinking, "She don't know the half of it!"

* * *

Speaking of soccer, I told this story on Facebook but want to repeat it here 'cause it's really cute. We were at Angela's game and there was a little boy next to me. He asked his mom for a sip of her soda and then remarked, "Do you remember the time that I had some root beer? And it tasted like pop? Because it was pop?"

The mom and I shared a smile over his head.

4-year-olds are just incredibly awesome.

* * *

Going back to that conversation at the playground...

Later I thought about what I could have said to that mom--that actually, my two little boys are the youngest of seven and that I'm enjoying it a lot more this time around. I am, too! I worried too much when I was a new mom, probably because I tried too hard to seem perfect. Now? Ha. I'm too old to care, and plus I know that these innocents are growing up SO fast.

Another photo that I "grammed" yesterday. I love this book for teaching Kindergarten science!

So try not to sweat the small stuff today. Go to the library; go to the park; go to the grocery store and buy a backyard picnic! Whatever you do, don't try to be perfect, and please please PLEASE don't expect your kids to be, either.

'Cause you're not and they're not and it's all good.


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