Mother's Week

Good news filled this past week.  A baby is on the way for a dear friend, another arrived yesterday for my cousin.  Both of these lovely ladies are mamas for the first time, and I couldn't wish their children to have better ones.  I'm already craving that fresh newborn scent. (B reminds me that we have a new-ish baby.  Oh, right.)

While I am feeling much more in tune with mothering these days, I hope that I never take this privilege for granted because it has been so easily acquired.  For me, unlike so many women I know and grieve for, the challenge hasn't been becoming a mother.  It has been becoming a good mother.  Being patient.  Empathizing with my children more.  Being patient.  Being silent.

So, to the veteran mothers in my life (you know who you are, I hope) who model patience, empathy, silence, and love: 

 thank you.

Book Poor

This was one of T's favorite books not so long ago.  We read and read and read it until we could use it as a model for everyday things.  "King Bidgood's in the bathtub and he won't get out, oh! who knows what to do?" became "T's in his carseat and he won't get out, oh! who knows what to do?"  

Even the big kids loved reading it to him.  Strangely this book, by the same authors, was decidedly rejected.

Month 5: Abundance

I was fretting the other night about how we were going to provide for our family next year without that new job for B.  In my head, I know that God always provides for us, but staring at the sum in our bank account as I'm paying bills always sets off those butterflies in my stomach.  As I fell asleep, still trying to settle those jitters, I apologized profusely and asked that God might give me a sign as He did for Gideon.  

When I woke up, I had forgotten my prayer.  However, in the night two enormous boxes of food had appeared on our kitchen counter.   When B woke, he told me that our church Yiayia had given him both boxes, in addition to 4 dozen eggs (from her own hens).  Then I remembered my prayer.  Goodness!  What an answer--our most basic needs met, and then some.  Our fridge and freezer are bursting, and so is my heart.  

When I look back on our Lent, I see the many, many ways in which we have been provided for, and it is this abundance that overshadows all else.  Our only response can be a profound gratitude.  

I...am learning how to be thankful.

B...is surprised that he still has a voice!  He spent most of the last week chanting all of our services. He'll spend the next couple of days recovering.

Z...baked a delicious chocolate cake all by herself last week.  I am trying, trying hard, to let her have the reins when she wants them.  

M...turned 7 on Lazarus Saturday, and was able to serve as an altar boy for the first time on Palm Sunday.  He got plenty of practice during Holy Week.  He is usually the first boy to don the commodious robes and sits patiently until one of the big boys arrives to take charge.  Like me, he needs something to do to keep himself out of mischief.  

T...Oh, T.  We will do just about anything to hear his belly laugh.  

G...He's going places, this one.  He's started inching along like an inchworm, and there is a tooth on the horizon.  What happened to my little one?

Checking In

When B and the big kids arrived home tonight from the Bridegroom Service (we deemed the youngsters too young for the late night), Z handed me a CD of pictures from G's baptism that were taken by part of our spiritual family.  The relationship goes M's godfather's other godchild's father took the pictures.  Tongue-twisting, no?

They're lovely--to me, the mark of a good photographer is that he or she can make the subjects look much better than they really do.  Judging by my appearance alone, he's a fantastic photographer.

LIfe is busy this week, services and such.  No time for breathing, let alone blogging.  

For those celebrating with us, whether physically or in spirit, our prayers are for you to have a Most Blessed Pascha!

Book Poor

Z is going through an Eva Ibbotson phase right now.  In her library bag this week were Journey to the River Sea, The Secret of Platform 13, and this.   She kept quoting selections from Island of the Aunts to the rest of us while she read it.  I love that Eva Ibbotson's books are well written, adventurous, and have just the right amount of scary to be enjoyable by sensitive youngsters. (I thought the same about Bunnicula, but that book gave Z and M nightmares.)

We listened to The Star of Kazan and The Beasts of Clawstone Castle earlier this year, and both were loved by Z and M alike. 

Finished Friday

I am knee-deep in home school preparations for the next term of school, so not much else is happening in the evenings here.

I have, however, made time to whip up a little sun hat for G.  When I say "whip up," I mean that it took 4 hours from start to finish, with a good hour of interruptions added in.  It's not perfect, but it's functional.  I keep seeing all of my mistakes, and hoping that no one else can.

The pattern is the Bucket Hat from Little Things to Sew, and G loves it in the way that only a four-month-old can: he starts screeching and flapping his arms whenever I put it on.

The reason there are no pictures of G modeling the hat?  His big brothers are like moths to a flame whenever G is on the floor, and would not get out of the frame.  Those brothers!

Book Poor

I had never heard of this series until we started homeschooling, but wish I had read these books long, long ago.  The big kids, and Z especially, adore the Melendy family.  M identifies with six-year-old Oliver Melendy, who is always getting into scrapes, and Z wants to be Mona Melendy, a real actress.


Pictured below is the third book, but if you'd like to begin at the beginning, try this one.

The four Melendy books not enough Elizabeth Enright for you?

We recently finished listening to (and loved) Gone Away Lake.  Try it, too!