A Sunday Post

 Sarah really enjoyed this dessert.  I would tell you what it was but I can neither remember nor discern from the photo.  It involved berries, that I can tell.

 Dave liked this church outfit so much that he insisted on taking a photo.  I told him that I would pose in  the awkward blogger pose - turned in toes, face cast to the ground in feigned shyness.  However, Isaac attempted to dive bomb the shot and the rest of the kids were knocking madly on the kitchen window.  The overall result pays tribute to my motherhood and my injured left foot.  Not only did I tear that Achilles tendon but, two days later, I dropped a square-foot ceramic tile on my foot from a height of five feet.  It barely missed Sarah (thank God) and broke one toe and bruised the other.  Sometimes God has to be very forceful when He tells me to rest.  Outfit breakdown:  boots (Eddie Bauer); shirt (gift from Club Monaco six years ago); vest (Reitmans); skirt (drycleaner find at Value Village - lined and everything).

 Someone always has to jump in the photos at the last minute.

Joseph is bound and gagged just outside of this photo's frame.  Ben lost his first top tooth a few days ago.  He has a cute whistle when he speaks and is growing up too fast for my liking.

In an effort to post more often

Here are a few random points:

1.  It helps to plan running injuries within 24 hours of a chiropractic appointment.  That way, diagnosis is swift and so is treatment.  Are you wondering if this is from personal experience?  Why, yes; yes it is.  On Sunday, during the last 25 metres of my run (save the best for last!), I felt s sudden and sharp pain in my left Achilles' tendon.  It was sore and stiff on Monday morning and caused me to limp throughout the day.  Fortunately, I had a regular chiropractic appointment that evening at which I was diagnosed as having slightly torn my Achilles.  No running for 2-3 weeks.  This would be a good time for us all to get sick so that I could use this downtime productively.

2.  On a similar note, this chiropractor is awesome.  Really.  My index finger has been twitching on my left hand for ten days. It was getting so bad that I would have to sit on my hand or stuff it in my pocket.  The hypochondriac in me imagined the most dire of scenarios.  My level-headed chiropractor 'popped' a muscle in my upper forearm 'back in' and the twitching and pain immediately stopped.  Turns out I had compressed a nerve due to Sarah (who is getting heavier) lying on my upper forearm while nursing.

3.  And to think that I once thought that chiropractors were quacks.  Who's quacking now?

4.  Halloween is only nine days away, Jacob's favourite time of year.  I am trying to be a little more proactive in the costume department.  You know, not waiting until the day before when I  cheerily suggest things like, "Why don't you go as your brother?", in an attempt to disguise my negligence.  So, I made some purchases at Value Village last night:  a genie or pirate vest for Joseph and an Indian dress for Hannah.  Two problems:  what is Hannah to identify herself as?  An aboriginal, a Native Canadian or a land-claims activist?

5.  Jacob is dressing as a Pizza Pizza delivery guy.  Thereby does he pay homage to his favourite restaurant and to, as of late, his mother's cooking ennui.

6.  Ben is still undecided on his costume, Isaac is unaware and Sarah will go as a struggling toddler in a stroller.

7.  I will, once again, answer the door and dole out the candy.  While trying not to eat the candy.  Perhaps I will wear a costume.  Dave will be only slightly embarrassed.

8.  And a question:  I am going to Texas to visit my older sister immediately after Christmas.  I sent in my passport application around three weeks ago.  Who can tell me how long I should expect until I get a passport in the mail?  (Or however it comes.)

Everyday life

One of my least favourite activities is to look at my last blog post and realise that it has been two weeks. Excuses?  Many, mostly just the busyness of life.  Fortunately, we are still healthy at our house.  There have been minor colds; but I don't count colds as compromised health when compared to the usual scourges that the school year brings.  I have told God in no uncertain terms that there are to be absolutely no trips to the emergency room this year.  In an effort to curb the presumptuous nature of my plea, I did add that broken bones and stitches were allowed.  Fractures and lacerations cause me no distress; fevers and pneumonia do.  That said, have I told you about how Isaac likes to throw toys down the treadmill as I run?  While these obstacles break up the monotony of treadmill running, they also increase the probability of those bones and stitches belonging to me.

Have I bored you yet?    No?  There is more.

In an effort to strengthen the Afelskie immune systems, I have instituted a rigorous cycle of supplements (on medical advice):  multi-vitamin, vitamin D, probiotic, oil of oregano and fermented cod liver oil.  Yikes. They don't receive all of that everyday.  No, in fact, I have a schedule!   A schedule that both divvies up the supplements throughout the week and saves the chequing account from bankruptcy, were I to give that cocktail daily to six children.  Plus, I imagine that if they received those doses on a daily basis our children would be so hale and hearty that we would never sleep again; thus, the schedule proves Chesterton's maxim, If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.  (Or, at least every third day.)  Also, we need to keep the kids' immune systems just under maximum efficiency in order to curb the sheer tornado of energy produced by our young'uns.

What else?   The last two months have been filled with lots of trips to Renfrew where both our doctor and dentist practise.  We lived in Renfrew, an hour away, for four years and I am unwilling to change
either of our healthcare providers.  Both doctors are really great and I don't feel like restarting such intimate relationships all over again.  Thus, we drive an hour, get a vaccination, stop at Tim Hortons and drive another hour home.  As you can imagine, days are easily eaten up by these visits.  I like to keep these trips to a minimum.  Thus, when Jacob tells me that he thinks he chipped his molar on Friday and that it really, really, really hurts, I gently introduce him to the concept of redemptive suffering.

And onto other subjects.


We made it through marriage prep and it all went quite well.  Thank you for all your prayers.  I really enjoy these weekends, despite the loss of sleep and inevitable anxiety-related exhaustion.  I quiver with excitement waiting to present while Dave marks papers and yawns.  (Marriage prep is a lesson
in marriage, especially for the presenters.)  The funny thing about these weekends is that I never
know how things go over with the engaged couples until the feedback comes in a few weeks later.  We are usually confronted by blank and tired stares, couples forced to sit in a church basement on a beautiful Saturday in the fall.  So many of the men wear a look that says, "My eyes are open but I am really sleeping."  Some check phones hidden away in pockets and others begin to clear tables if they feel the talk has gone on too long.  Really, they are not much different than Dave's grade eights.  (Except that there is no recourse to the principal's office.)  But, amazingly, there are hearts there that are taking in what is said.  Usually, the ones who experience the greatest conversions are the ones with the blankest of stares.  For some reason body language, that to me says comatose, often means the opposite to the Holy Ghost.

For example, there was one guy on the weekend who checked his phone pretty regularly throughout the talks, spent the breaks negotiating a better mortgage rate and checked out early on the Saturday
afternoon in order to attend a wedding.  However, two days later I was in the grocery store and a man
 in a paramedic uniform stopped me with a huge smile.  I knew that I recognized him, but the uniform sent me into PTSD mode and suddenly I was back in that helicopter with a sick Isaac.  Or, in an ambulance with an in-utero Sarah.  He kept smiling and held out his hands as if presenting himself to me.  "You don't recognize me?  But I thought that I was your favourite!"  Then I realised that he was
the phone-checker from the weekend.  His experience must have been positive because:  a.  He recognized me;  b.  He didn't run away after recognising me.  So, I guess that we must be doing some good.  At least that good comes around once a year.  I don't think that I could handle much more.

P.s.  Pardon the typoes and strange indentations.  The iPad is a stubborn customer, at times.

Still not sick! So, here are some pictures.

 Oh, I just find her so cute.  Every time she looks at me I see flashes of her siblings.  Lately her mouth has been stifling me:  I see it and one of the other kids' mouths runs across my mind and far away from my ability to figure out whose mouth it is.  However, the other day I realised that it is Jacob's mouth at 15 months, right down to the set of the teeth.  Genetics, funny.

 Hair and picture completely manufactured by a sibling and found by a parent on the iPad.

 I suspect that Isaac's hair and picture were Hannah's doing.  Have I ever shown you her skills as an artist?  Well, now I have.

 The artist herself, using some iPad function unknown to her mother.  She has already far outstripped me in her knowledge of technology.  I remember as a young girl and teenager that I was the one whom my parents asked to figure out the VCR and the remote - and, at one point, to stand holding the TV antenna in just the right spot two feet from the window and one foot left of the plant.  Now it is Hannah.  I have noticed, however, that she approaches technological problems in much the same way as her mother:  never read instructions, just hit buttons until the right combination finally works.

 Four boys and one Sarah looking on.  Isaac is wearing Jacob's glasses and the now non-existent soother - whew!  One trip to the dentist caused the soose to disappear and Isaac to develop a great disdain for the dentist.

 Hand-me-downs from a neighbour found by Hannah and worn by Sarah.  Who can resist 2.5 foot flowers with faces?  I am wearing my Duggar outfit thus christened by Jacob:  "Mom, you look like one of those mothers who have 19 kids and homeschool when you wear that."  After seeing my face, "Except that you are a lot younger and prettier and have darker skin."  He can backpedal with the best of them.

Sarah has entered the backpack phase.  All of our children have gone through this stage.  Jacob and Hannah started when I took them to Halifax on a plane by myself when they were a little over two years.  I remember that Jacob so loaded up his backpack that when he stood up he immediately fell backward.  This picture of Sarah is very pared down; normally she also carries a headband, one or two key chains and any item of clothing left on the floor by her siblings.  It's unfortunate when her choice is underwear.

 She also loves shoes (note the red Italian leather pair found at Value Village).  She wears them in honour of the former pope.  Unlike Benedict XVI she often appears in public wearing dirty clothes.  Isaac knows a photo-op when he sees one.

 Don't worry, Tracy, that shirt is sparkling white again.

 Isaac promises.

 But Sarah might have other plans.