Taking a little break.....

.....from the computer, that is. I know you don't mind - you are all much too kind for that. Not much is going on - I'll be pondering the wealth of homeschooling ideas out there, gathering and cooking new and healthy recipes, focusing on my stage in the spiritual life and which areas need attention, and of course, taking in a few fun outings before summer is over!

Have a wonderful week, everyone. See you next Monday, September 3rd.

Last Spot in the Parking Lot

Imploring our ever-faithful finder, Saint Anthony of Padua, in a crowded parking lot for a spot to open for us, the girls and I were beginning to feel dismayed driving up and down the aisles with no success. We lifted our voices one last time before leaving - "St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please look around. A parking spot must be found." - when what appeared to be an angelic white sedan began to pull out from a space right in front. On a scorching hot day those spots were highly coveted, and I was in first position to get it. Or so I thought.

I hadn't noticed the lady in the SUV situated perpendicular to us, also in first position to claim the space, just from a different angle. But when I saw her children in the back seat I couldn't regret that she got the spot and we didn't. We moved on, and Gianna was perplexed.

"Why did Saint Anthony give that lady a spot and not us, Mother? Did we do something wrong?" she prodded. Her questions reminded me so much of the way in which we all approach God at times, and I felt she deserved an answer. I gently explained that sometimes it is best to be last, and that very often, if not always, what is most beneficial to us is not something that gratifies us immediately. The thoughts were tough for a four year old mind to comprehend, and it seemed I was going around in circles providing examples to convince her.

We finally did find a parking spot, it appeared the very last one, way in the back. We finished our business and left for home. On the drive back to the house I felt I had failed miserably in explaining an important truth to a daughter who depends on me to do so. At this point Gianna still thought St. Anthony chose another person's good over her mother's.

Though I relayed to my husband that very night what had happened, after that day I'd entirely forgotten about the incident. That is.....until yesterday afternoon.

We did something we haven't done in a long, long while. My husband had pulled out some old analog video footage of Gianna's early infant months, and the girls had a blast enjoying her funny baby laugh, her chubby cheeks and her cute baby sounds. I enjoyed the footage too, but more from a mother's perspective - missing those early days with my first baby, wishing I could hear that crazy laugh again and squeeze those plump cheeks once more. I lamented how quickly my girls have grown, and observed the strikingly present absence of a baby in the house. But I digress.

So we're watching these old videos, when Gianna heard me reminisce about how I'd spent years in prayer for a baby, how I'd cried myself to sleep at times while waiting for one, but when she finally came she made me the happiest mother in the world, and had I been given another child I would have missed out on the very best little girl for me. I explained that God loved me so much that He ensured I wait long enough for her to come along.

Turning her face toward mine with wide eyes as though a light turned on inside her four year old mind, "You mean, like the spot in the parking lot, Mama?" It took me a few seconds to catch up with her, but I soon realized exactly what she was referring to. "Yes, yes", I said, and I asked her to explain what she meant by the reference. "Sometimes", she answered, "it's good if we don't get what we want right away 'cause God has something better for us." Astonished and speechless, I nodded and gave her a huuuge hug. When I finally extracted the lump from my throat I remarked plainly, "That's exactly right, Gianna."

This morning as the girls and I implored our favorite saint-for-the-job to find us a parking spot, I heard from the back seat, "Don't worry, Mama. It's good for us if St. Anthony gives a spot to someone else."

Yes, indeed, it is.

We're all about routine around here

After a busy day out of town, I thought I'd short-cut our bedtime routine and skip tooth brushing tonight. (Shhh....don't tell my dentist!) The girls got their usual shower after dinner and their glasses of milk, but while I was tucking Gianna into bed I heard some noises (mischief-type) coming from the bathroom. I promptly gave her a good-nite kiss and began to walk away, when she suddenly sat up and shouted, "Wait! You forgot to brush my teeth!" I was about to respond with a "Let's-skip-it-this-time" when a minty fresh aroma wafted into the bedroom. There she was - Madeleine standing in the dark holding both girls' toothbrushes, fully, but neatly loaded with toothpaste - "Here, Mom!"

So much for short-cuts. Those little ones never cease to amaze me, really.

A Word of Culinary Caution

If you are preparing a dinner which requires finely chopped Serrano chile peppers as a significant ingredient, please, do not dice the peppers with your bare hands! The sensitive skin under your fingernails will burn for HOURS afterward. In addition, after you've washed and soaked your hands several times in soap and water, hoping to relieve the sting, do not disregard your agony and proceed to rub your eyes with those fingertips!!

A Garden for Children

The Children's Garden at Huntington Library and Gardens near Pasadena - with its small-scaled botanical wonders - is a magical place for little ones. Designed for the size, mind and curiosity of the young, the garden features highlights like water bells and magnetic sand, a fog grotto and a walk-in greenhouse with kid-size patio furniture. The garden centers on the principles of nature's elements - Earth, Air, Fire and Water, and everything is hands-on.

Next to the Children's Garden is the Botanical Conservatory - very exciting for school-aged youngsters with its fascinating exhibits, experiments and learning stations. My girls love the Venus flytraps featured there.

I recently visited the gardens with the girls while in the Pasadena area, and included photographs below. The Children's Garden and Conservatory are but a small part of the overall Huntington, which includes a Rose Garden, a Shakespearean Garden, a Tea Room and much, much more. Patrick and I have visited the spot frequently since before we married, and never tire of the experience.

[I'll do future installments on the various gardens at The Huntington to give a fuller perspective in the next few weeks.]

The Benefits of Having a Toddler-Age Sister

Gianna, forming a circle on the floor with Madeleine's crib bumper:

~"Madeleine, let's play Circus. You be the clown and I'll be the ~princess, okay?!"

Good Things

I've been told many women require a day at the spa, a new dress or a new piece of jewelry to feel good about themselves.

Who would've thought a day pulling weeds, a new vacuum or a bag of lawn fertilizer could make a person equally happy?

Living proof. Right here.

Drumroll, Please.....

All I will say is, if you liked the first two, you'll be more than satisfied.

For a great in-depth review, go here.*

h/t: Expectantes

Confessions of a Spy Movie Fanatic

I am not a huge fan of modern movies, but every once in a while one comes along that I get excited about. "Excitement" would be an understatement in this case. I've waited for this long enough......Tonight. 8:15 pm. A date with my husband.

Thanks, Grandma, for watching the girls!

Random Thoughts on Sacred Music

If you know me personally, or only from this blog but you've looked at the profile in my sidebar, you know I love polyphony, and you know Palestrina is one of my favorite composers. We attend our usual Sunday masses at St. Michael's Abbey up in Silverado Canyon, and the liturgy there is beautifully chanted by the Fathers and Fraters. Gregorian Chant is indeed beautiful, but in an austere sense. It appeals much more to the intellect than the emotions, though some chant can certainly stir passion in a person's soul. Back in the Medieval Era when the Church first began allowing polyphony into its liturgy, it was met with much controversy due to the fact that the music appealed strongly to the passions. This idea is comical to us now with the wide variety of music types heard in our parishes, but I've long wondered whether the closer one is to perfection - closer to the Angels in heaven who are purely intellectual creatures, the more he will prefer chant to polyphony, on account of its intellectual nature.*

Well, I can say for my own part, being at the bottom rung on the Ladder of Divine Ascent, I much prefer polyphony to chant, and for the very reasons mentioned above. I am incredibly moved by the four voices combining so intensely to glorify God in a way that stirs up every good emotion in me. Polyphonic music, and especially Renaissance polyphony from composers like Palestrina, Byrd, Victoria, etc. grip me in such a way that I can think of nothing but desiring Heaven, where I imagine myself in the company of the saints and angels at the feet of Mary and Jesus. (Until Madeleine tosses and turns enough to pull me out of my dreamery!)

So, it came as no surprise that we would attend mass for The Feast of The Assumption at the San Juan Capistrano Mission Basilica, where a special liturgy would be celebrated for the feast with the De Angelis Ensemble singing Palestrina's glorious Missa Assumpta est Maria, rather than our usual Abbey mass. I am so glad we went. It was......heavenly!

Here is a small excerpt from the Credo. There is no choir loft in the back of this church, so the vocal ensemble was placed in front. Forgive the shaking camera, I held the camera with one arm and a child with the other!



*Then again, we do get our bodies back when we reach heaven. Perhaps there's an argument for polyphony in the afterlife! :)

[A final note: in case you think I am completely off my rocker with these crazy thoughts and love of such music - I was first introduced to polyphony in high school, where I sang soprano in the choir. Years later, three friends and I - who all loved beautiful music - started a small schola. With the four of us, two guys and two girls, we had a soprano, an alto (me), a bass and a tenor. It was a lot of fun.]

Babies in the Garden

A photo in honor of today's Feast. Okay, so they're not ready for harvesting yet, but pears are so cute when they're small. These four fit in the palm of my hand. Gianna calls them "babies". :)

The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Toward the end of the summer season, at a time when fruits are ripe in the gardens and fields, the Church celebrates the most glorious "harvest festival" in the Communion of Saints. Mary, the supremely blessed one among women, Mary, the most precious fruit which has ripened in the fields of God's kingdom, is today taken into the granary of heaven. -Pius Parsch*

~

It is traditional to have your fruits and herbs blessed on the Feast of the Assumption, "to make of the occasion a harvest festival of thanksgiving to God for His great bounty manifested in the abundant fruits of the earth." You can read more about the Blessing of Fruits and Herbs here.

*taken from Catholic Culture

Up, Up and Away

Last week I took Gianna and Madeleine for a super fun ride in a balloon, five-hundred feet above the ground. Not a hot-air balloon, mind you - this one is helium-filled. This was a spectacular outing for the girls, and like the movie on the beach, it was free.

The balloon is part of the renovation of an old Marine Corps air station, now being transformed into a huge metropolitan park in Orange County. From what I understand, the completed park will include a botanical garden, a lush canyon with streams, dramatic bridges and native plants, and a wildlife area among other attractions. We're looking forward to seeing the development of each phase and visiting often when the park is completed.

the balloon

"Oh my! Oh my!" was pretty much all
I heard from these two.

looking down

The view. My husband's office is in this photo.

Choosing the Remedy

With the distractions of a young toddler my attendance at mass today was sadly of the mere bodily type. Actually, half the time my body wasn't there either - it was outside with the other moms-of-little-ones. But my spirit was most certainly absent, being consumed by thoughts of frustration and impatience. Thankfully I have a loving and generous husband, and a Sunday agreement with him ensuring I get to be inside the chapel for the homily. This was of key importance today, as Father instructed on the subject of Distraction.

In essence, he asked how often is it that we are distracted at mass, whether by our neighbor in the pew ahead and what she is (or isn't) wearing, by our children, by the memory of earlier morning events or by anticipation of fun to be had later in the day. And how is it possible we can be so close to Jesus Whose graces we came to mass for, and judge the modesty of our neighbor or the parenting of the couple next to us with rambunctious children, while the Precious Blood is poured right in front of us which was shed to remedy each and every one of us.

Much, much to think about. This morning, though I was not distracted or annoyed by a fellow parishioner, I certainly gave my mind over to eagerness for the recessional hymn so I could strap my girls in the car (where they couldn't cause trouble), and head for our Sunday trip to the donut shop. But today, I was mercifully reminded of why I was there and what Grace was offered me - for my own sanctification and that of my children, who will have no temper tantrums in Heaven. All I had to do was choose it.

For All You Seasoned Homeschoolers

Gianna has been learning to read for a very short while now. Absorbed in an unmistakable Montessori "sensitive period" she is fascinated by letters, blends, writing her name on pieces of paper and street signs. I've been using a book that captured her interest well for a while, but she seems bored with it lately. We utilize multi-sensory tools as well, but the main reading program has lost its appeal.

What do you recommend that has worked for you in the past and captivated your children?

Not Much of a Surprise

You Belong in Spring

Optimistic, lively, and almost always happy with the world... You can truly appreciate the blooming nature of spring. Whether you're planting flowers or dyeing Easter eggs, spring is definitely your season!

What Season Are You?

Aahh yes, Spring. I love the smell of fresh young flowers and grass, the joy of new life all around, Nature's resurrection after Winter's death, the mild weather, and the glory of Easter. Summer can be hot and overbearing, Winter cold and lonely (though I enjoy it for about two weeks), and Autumn picturesque, but too brief and too much a sign of impending death and barrenness. I am convinced, Heaven must be an Eternal Spring! :)

(Don't get me wrong, I love the beauty of all the seasons and their striking correspondence with the liturgical year. But I do have a favorite of the four! :)

h/t: Karen

Living in the Attic

A recent incident with Gianna (which I won't detail here) led to an interesting discourse on a less fortunate portion of humanity, whether in other countries or right here, and the importance of being content with what we have. The discussion began with examples of children who haven't toys or dolls or have never enjoyed the sweet taste of a donut, and then progressed to those who have not a father present or a home to live in. For some reason Gianna seemed quite distressed by the last example. We have talked to her about such unfortunate realities many times, but something in this particular exchange just clicked. "What do you mean, some people don't have homes? Where do they live? Where do they sleep?" she prodded. As I was about to delve into an unpleasant reality with which Gianna was not yet familiar, I steered us in another direction, not so terrifying but one I thought she could learn from, taking us on a walk - familiar to me but unknown to my little companion - down memory lane. Responding to her inquiry I said, "You and Mama and Daddy used to live in a tiny attic, sweetheart."* And the not so distant memories blew in like a blustery wind, fun and crazy and a bit anxiety-ridden all at the same time.

One early spring years before, on the very day we finalized Gianna's adoption and brought her home for the first time, I quit working. It really was not a significant event on the one hand, as I had ached for what seemed an eternity to be a mother at home with her children. On the other hand it was a huge step, as I had been supporting us entirely on my income while my husband finished his graduate studies. So, the day we brought our Gianna home was also the day we ceased to have an employed adult in the household. Some may have thought we were imprudent, and perhaps they were right from a monetary perspective. All I knew was we had a beautiful new baby to love, a miracle beyond any good I had ever comprehended, pure sweetness personified. An income seemed insignificant.

I remember having a discussion with my husband in our apartment living room about money one evening, contemplating how on earth we would support ourselves with a new baby after having just quit work and exhausted our savings account on the adoption. I recall him distinctly using the phrases, "Money doesn't grow on trees." and "Money isn't going to appear out of nowhere." I knew he was right. I understood that we had a family to provide for. But I also believed we would be provided for, without either of us needing a salary. God blessed us with this beautiful baby - surely He would fill our empty baskets. That very night, less than an hour after our talk, we opened our front door for an evening walk and found....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~....a five dollar bill....

...on our doorstep. I grasped the Lincoln in my hand, raised it up exclaiming, "Look! Money does grow on trees! It blows right to our front door!"

The next day we learned that the money had been dropped off by a good friend of ours who had gone in on a bottle of wine for a party we'd hosted the previous weekend. Not wanting to disturb us in the evening, he left his contribution on our front doorstep. Little did he know his seemingly insignificant "drop-off" would settle anxieties and fortify our trust in Divine Providence for the next many months to come.

Not so long after, we found ourselves overcome with intense wonder and excitement, celebrating the end of graduate school, anticipating the daunting California bar exam and relocating our new family of three from the Great Lakes region back to the West Coast. The adventure would have been approached with unreserved enthusiasm if we could have ignored the reality of beginning a new life in a new place without the promise of work to support us or a roof over our heads. I recall feeling like an old pioneer family, making our way through treacherous mountains and arduous valleys with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a covered wagon to sleep under.

Our pioneer adventure would soon become less unnerving one Sunday morning when we shared brunch with our good friends - fellow classmates of my husband. We learned they had grandparents in southern California whose home boasted a small attic above the main living space, with its own separate entrance and room for us to stay until we found suitable employment. Unsure how this would play out but with no other options, we gratefully accepted their generous offer and began packing our belongings for the Pacific. My husband was reasonably concerned about our prospects. I was unhesitatingly excited.

The attic was quite petite and she wore a rather unpleasant perfume. We couldn't tell where her odour was coming from - perhaps it emanated from her bright green and heavily stained carpet, or it might have wafted in our direction from the local sewage plant nearby. She was about eight yards long and four yards wide, and she was short enough that we could only stand up straight in her center. The master mattress laid in a little crawl space in the corner, and the bathroom had no door (she did have a small shower, though). Perhaps her biggest deficit was her lack of a kitchen, but we had a tiny refrigerator to keep food cold and a microwave to heat it up. She possessed a strange sense of humor - being situated less than a mile from Los Angeles International Airport (yes, LAX) the sound of airplanes became our most cherished music, day and night. But I must say above all this, she was rather bright and sunny for an attic, with not one but three large skylights on her ceiling letting tons of light inside, and the lovely Pacific Ocean could be seen from her balcony as its waters were, like the airport, less than a mile away.

Our tight surroundings grew on us much quicker than I had anticipated. We got used to the funny smell (after having attacked it with every possible cleaner/deodorizer on the market), the roaring of airplane engines and not being able to stand up straight in our new "home". Our friends and family reached by telephone quickly grew accustomed to being placed on hold when a plane would fly overhead. We ate an offensive quantity of take-out food and microwaveable meals. I tried desperately to cook a nice dinner every once in a while with our electric skillet, but the work and the mess involved made such undertakings completely unappealing. With no kitchen sink, all our dishes, glasses and silverware had to be washed in the tiny bathroom sink. Lastly, Gianna's early bedtime routine gave us about three evening hours to kill in perfect silence so as not to wake her up. We would often go downstairs to the garage where the owners had a TV, to watch movies or television or just talk.

Our time in the attic lasted almost six months. At times we felt cramped and awkward, but for the most part we were content and grateful of our generous hosts. We learned to appreciate space and privacy, a kitchen and a home-cooked meal, things we had taken for granted in the past. We learned that accepting charity is very humbling, but in doing so one exalts the love of God through his neighbor. We learned that we can do without and still enjoy many, many blessings. We learned that God sometimes gives us what we need, and not more or less than we need, to live a good life and see His presence in every detail.

In many ways it is good to have less. No one ever wants to have so little that they go hungry, or cannot provide for basic needs. Too little for a family can cause great strain. But with less abundance it can be much easier to remember what is important in life and to focus on eternal realities. I will always remember "the attic" with good thoughts and happy memories of my new baby's first "home" on the West Coast. It was a perfect starter home, both for body and spirit, for our new life out here.

*[I hope it is clear that I am not in any way likening this experience to our truly poor and hungry brethren of the world. My chat with Gianna simply led me back to our beginning as a family of three, and it is a portion of our life I would like to remember.]

Camping?

Not quite, but fun anyway. Newport coast hosts a "movie night" on weekends all summer long, and this was our second trip. They show family-friendly movies on an inflatable screen right on the beach. For free. The best part of the evening are the bonfires scattered about on the sand, where guests can roast hot dogs for dinner or bring fixings for a favorite snack, like "smores"! The girls love the adventure - staying up late, cuddling next to a fire under the stars with mom and dad, and a hint of closely supervised marshmallow roasting. :)

perplexed

Wait five minutes for these things to turn brown?
I'm a toddler, remember? Patience is not my name!


Yumm! But sticky, so I'll hold it like I'm playing a flute.

On Love and Cold Coffee

As a young adult I found it rather disgusting that my parents would re-heat their cups of coffee several times in the microwave on a daily basis. To me, if it wasn't piping hot and fresh out of the pot, it simply was not worth it.

Now I not only warm up my favorite mug every morning (three times so far, today), I thoroughly enjoy it. And I understand that in all those years watching my parents sip on stale beverages, I was observing the sweet tasting of a mother and father's love for their children. Our needs always came before their good coffee! :)

Of Girls and Shoes

and the only reason these ever get worn....

What I learned last night...

...while praying with Gianna:

~~~~"and give us our trespasses....."

(No, honey, we don't need any more of those!)

"Trés Joli"....

.....by Karen Dupré. It took me a while. I finally found her at Artprints.com under search words, "Figure Art".

I realize the current trend is to go Pottery Barn Kids-ish - casual, but I really like her . Do you think she is too formal for a little girls' room?