Tea

A cup of tea solves most things. At least for me. I truly feel that tea might be what is most missing from quality western medicine - well, at least from decent hospital menus. The only time that home birth remotely tempts me is when I ask for tea at the hospital and get tepid dishwater or a lukewarm Tim Horton's (courtesy of my husband, not the hospital staff). Does childbirth not require good tea?

So, you might wonder, what is tea solving for you right now, Elena?

Nothing specific; I think I've just hit the end of the school year like one hits a wall in a marathon: the end is in sight but I can't run anymore. I just want to throw on the TV and plunk the kids there indefinitely. I am worn out by cooking, emotions, tears, phonics, unmade beds and laundry. I will stop the list there as, I am sure you realise, it comes close to infinite.

I do realise that my sudden exhaustion is mostly due to the fact that Dave is almost on vacation and so I feel that I get to throw in the towel. Except that I don't: people still need clean clothes and good meals. Oh, and the groceries: we are in perpetual need of groceries - cue music: House of the Empty Fridge sung to House of the Rising Sun.


Also, I just arrived home from the end of the school year mass at which Jacob read the Responsorial Psalm, Hannah proclaimed the second reading (apparently, she has been poured out as a libation!), Isaac arched his back, spat out his soother and hit his head. Thank God the church had a crying room; because where else could Joseph have found such neatly stacked chairs from which to jump while Ben gestured wildly (and silently) that Joseph needed some sort of firm discipline? I gestured back just as wildly that there was no one present to provide such discipline as Joseph has a habit of proclaiming easy victories over his mother in public arenas. Take a moment to pause and imagine our interchange.

I was about to consult with Ben when I decided that I would threaten Joseph with a spank from the elderly male caretaker (who had already left the crying room with a scowl on his face - what was he doing in there anyway?). Joseph's response to this extraordinary measure of discipline was to stare suspiciously at the caretaker all the while determining that his mother had no discernible relationship with this man and thus could not call upon him for correction. Back to jumping from chairs and firm motherly manipulation which elicited the expected, "Ow, that hurts, Mommy."

We somehow made it through and one of the other two people in the crying room (who also happened to be our village's last mayor) turned to the boys and said, "You have been some of the best behaved boys that I have ever seen at mass." Perhaps his retirement was a wise decision.

So, I am ignoring the kids, blogging and drinking tea. I think that I deserve this respite even though the resulting chaos might be unprecedented. Hopefully it will not necessitate a trip to the ER.

But, having felt this way countless times before, I know that this too shall pass. The clouds will roll on out, the sun will shine and we'll go swimming; or, at least, the kids will be kept from drowning.

On the Feast of Corpus Christi

This moves me to tears.

Summertime happiness

Everything in these pictures gives me joy.
I had long looked for two old-fashioned rocking chairs that I could paint and place on our front porch. A few months ago I spied one of these chairs in the basement of our church rectory tucked away next to the furnace. A few days ago I drove past the church and found our priest and caretaker in the basement of the church overseeing renovations. I mentioned the chair that I had noticed in the basement and our caretaker replied that there were actually two. I asked if they were used for anything and, if not, could I buy them. Our priest told me that he would sell anything (time to up our Sunday offering?) and that the chairs were only used for babysitting the furnace. So, he sold them to me for a song. Our wonderful caretaker loaded them in the van and secured them with a rope (only adding to Ben's fascination with Mr. K.)
The pillows are of my own making. I had two red pillows lying around and the material came from a lampshade from IKEA. The lampshade never fulfilled its luminary purpose but sat in a closet and got broken. But, I insisted that the fabric be kept because it was too cute to waste. So, the broken lampshade came with us on two moves and finally found its purpose yesterday. When Dave arrived home he thought that I had embroidered them myself in the Kashubian style. Little does he know about embroidery. Can you see how hard I worked at maintaining the lampshade shape? Ha! I have little patience and cutting the shades into nice even squares was not part of my plan. Consequently, I think that I created the top half of hexagons. (Impressive knowledge of geometry.) My other plans for the porch are to paint the door and the wooden stool atop which the potted impatiens are sitting.
The flowers in those boxes are just starting and will be much bigger by the end of the season.
I had great luck with coleus last year so I tried some newer, showier varieties this year. The bright greens are sweet potato vines.
The weigela was planted last year but obviously loves its placement as it has doubled in size and flowers continuously. The furry stuff in front are cosmos - I can't wait til they start to flower.
We have a lovely gate opening on to the backyard. I added the hanging baskets and am hoping that the flowers and vines fill out a little. The little green pot to the left of the gate has morning glories that will hopefully climb the fence. I also planted lots of nasturtium seeds, lupin seeds and wildflower seeds throughout the front garden. We'll see what comes of my sowing.
This little garden is my pride and joy because, when we moved here, only the irises were planted. The rest was mulch and stones. Last summer I removed the mulch and stone, added soil and put in these perennials. They have returned with a vengeance. The rose at the back is making me particularly happy as I bought it discounted and neglected to cover it throughout the winter. I am amazed that it has come back so beautifully. It does has aphids, though, and I am spraying it with a mix of water, dish soap and cooking oil.
Another view of coral bells, yarrow, catmint and phlox. I find that gardening is a great weight-loss technique. It is the only activity that I have discovered in which I become so consumed that I forget to eat. This is monumental. The down (and slightly negligent) side is that I also forget to feed other, much smaller people.
A peony that I planted last summer and amazingly decided to bloom only one year after its planting.
And my shade-loving fringed bleeding heart. Hannah calls it the broken heart and, Catholic that I am, I always think of it as the sacred heart. The rest of the garden has a new clematis waiting to prove its worth and lots of Black-Eyed Susans that have already come through for me.
Flowers make me very happy.
And, finally, I have discovered that I have another hobby besides cleaning.

Ingenuity or Hannah is Creative

When I took this picture Hannah asked me, with a roll of the eyes, if I was going to put it on the blog. I told her that I would, only if it were OK with her. She smiled, raised her eyebrows and said, "Only if you call it Hannah is Creative." I agreed. My agreement wasn't wrangled out of me: she is creative. For example, she would absolutely love an iPod; however, her parents don't feel the same way; so, she made her own out of beads and wire. And now she has moved on to video games. I found her seated in front of her dresser a little before bedtime with her homemade video game. I thought that it was brilliant.
p.s. Doesn't her side-profile look a wee bit like mine?

Now, as a sort of sidebar: our banning of iPods, video games and the like from our children isn't because we are Luddites or believe that technology is evil. I am blogging, am I not? And, Dave has an iPod that he uses quite frequently, especially when he exercises. Plus, I think that Dave is one of the best and most effective users of technology in the classroom. We are plugged in; but, we still choose to keep our own children fairly unplugged.

Childhood is fleeting. Our main beef with video games, iPods and excessive television is that, aside from being socially isolating and somewhat mindless, they tend to waste a childhood.

We both grew up under parents who were very judicious about their use of technology with us. Of course, at that point technology was mostly limited to the TV. I grew up encouraged by academic parents who read books and taught us to do the same. Lively discussions at the dinner table about great ideas, faith and the moral life are good memories of mine. Dave was raised on a farm and fairly ate, slept and drank hard work and exercise. He recalls watching a show called SkiBoy which inspired him to ski around and around and around his house until he was exhausted. Together, our parenting philosophy has become read books, go to mass, pray with children, talk about and live faith, and wear them out physically so that they have no time to get in trouble and so that they sleep. Sleep is very important. Pretty simple, actually. We'll see if it works.

But, back to the wasting of childhood. I want to see my kids running outdoors, playing in sandboxes, wading in pools, jumping off of picnic tables (yes, they do) and bonding with one another in the great cathedral of the outdoors. I don't want to plunk them down in front of screens to simply keep them busy and out of my hair.
Nevertheless, technology certainly comes in handy around here: I like to teach Ben to read using books; however, starfall.com has definitely filled in some holes and taught him how to use a computer mouse. The kids love movies and I made my way through Jacob's years of eye-patching using the TV.

So, are we out of step with the times? Yes, I have no problem admitting that. We are, I suppose, old-fashioned. But, I kind of like the way old-fashioned kids grow up into really interesting, morally-grounded adults. At least I think they do. Plus, if Hannah can build a video game out of lego and her brothers' trucks, then I can only imagine what she might do with some better materials.
She eventually allowed her brother a chance to play.
And then there's him. He is currently training for some sort of special-ops team. Jumping off of picnic tables is suitable preparation.

Three year old found in exersaucer = Proof that TV turns one's brain to mush

Dad, you were right all along.

Nine and a half months: I have the cutest crooked smile in town!

Nine Years

There are nine long-stemmed red roses sitting in the middle of our dining room table. And five little kids tucked away down the hall. The last nine years have been packed with lots of life and lots of growing up. Most of that growing up has been done by the adults and not the children. Five kids have a way of growing two kids into two adults.

Nine years don't seem nearly as milestoney as 10 years; but, they are still worth noting.
The roses were a complete surprise since we had already celebrated our anniversary a little early on Friday.

To my complete surprise, I was awakened at 7am last Friday by a tap on my shoulder and a question: "Can you be ready by 8?"
Turns out 8:30 was more realistic. After all, the baby is still nursing and so this mommy's readiness always includes that of Isaac.

I was a little surprised by Dave's wake-up call and my first response was, "Is this some sort of a joke?"
"No," he said, "I've taken the day off." (This is the point best ignored by anyone remotely associated with our board of education.)
It took me a while to believe that he had really taken the day off from work in order to take me out for the day. When I finally decided to believe him I felt absolutely giddy about the day's possibilities.

Dave had arranged for his mother to watch Ben and Joe for the day while he, I and the baby headed to Pembroke for some errands and lunch.

Yes, this made me giddy.
The greatest source of this giddiness was that I had slept well the night before and thus could face the day with a full tank of energy.

I have this frustrating tendency of losing sleep the night before special occasions. This includes birthday celebrations, sacramental celebrations, company for supper, out-of-town visitors - heck, the list is endless. (Something to do with perfectionism, unrealistic expectations and too much mental energy.) And, yes, I lose a lot of sleep.

So, in order to ensure a well-rested mommy, Dave had kept his day-off and his plans for our anniversary a complete surprise. I think that I was actually expecting a crabapple tree!

More touching than the day itself (which was splendid and included some shopping, lunch and, most importantly, some time together) were the accommodations that Dave had made for his quasi-neurotic wife. Accommodations right out of our Individual Marriage Plan.

Any of you who have hung around the teaching profession will know about Individual Education Plans or IEPs. These are plans designed for students with learning disabilities, behavioural problems and so on. Included in an IEP are accommodations that the teacher should make in order to help that student do well in school.
Dave and I now have a joke that we have an IMP, an Individual Marriage Plan, and that he must have checked it before this anniversary in order to make the proper accommodations.

Good teacher that he is, the accommodations made all the difference and our ninth anniversary was a success. Dave's thought behind those actions was so touching to me because it just screamed, "I love you even with all your imperfections and craziness. I love you for who you are."
I am beginning to believe that this is true and for that I am so very thankful.

One day, dear husband, you'll be able to plan something a little more easily;)

The Little Mother

Sometimes I feel badly that Dave and I don't have enough hands or attention to go around. But then I remember that it is in schools such as these that our children learn how to build a civilisation of love: how to look beyond their own needs and to those of another. They will be better people because of this.
Hannah is often recruited to help out with her littlest brother. Fortunately, she is a natural born mother; or, as one friend refers to such girls as Hannah, she is a little mother. How true.
Yesterday morning I asked her to hold Isaac while I prepared Ben's and Joe's breakfasts. Isaac's crying stopped and I looked around wondering where she had taken her baby brother. Dave saw the question on my face and pointed outdoors where she was sitting on the swing with him.
How much he must love her. How much I love them both.