The first of many such engagements

The title is Jacob's words, not mine.  When he was asked by our local librarian (the tall woman, second from the right) to address the library's book club on the Halifax Explosion, he responded by hoping that it would be the first of many such engagements.  We shall see.  The book club chose Hugh McLennan's Barometer Rising as its study book for the month of May.  The book is based on events surrounding the 1917 explosion and is required reading in many high school english programs.  One of the book club's members had heard Jacob's speech at the Legion competition and suggested Jacob as May's guest speaker.  He readily agreed.

There he is surrounded by the book club's members who listened attentively to his 12 minute speech. He was quite nervous to begin.  However he quickly rose to the occasion and provided a magnificent summary of the devastating explosion.  I was as proud as a peacock, but resisted any extravagant plumage and dressed in standard black.  Jacob is really a fabulous young man.  His wealth of knowledge is astounding and I regularly check historical facts with him before I use them in conversation.  I can only imagine who he will grow up to become.  The future is filled with hope.

A real photo dump

 Isaac and Sarah at their very own little toadstool table (that we didn't buy) at No Frills.  We did, however, purchase the buckets.  Sarah, by the way, screams cheese whenever she spots an iPhone, iPad or camera pointed in her direction.  Fast learner.

 I mentioned that Hannah and I brought Isaac and Sarah to the March for Life?  Here's some proof.

 We went through a lot of juice boxes and a lot of snacks by the time we wound our way through downtown Ottawa.

 When I asked Hannah why she wanted to go to the March so badly, she responded, "I don't know.  I guess it's in my blood."  She comes by the pro-life gene quite honestly, on both the paternal and maternal sides.

 Ben did in fact turn eight on May 9th.  Despite its precarious layering technique, the cake tasted quite good.  Ahem, mixes have a habit of turning out well.

 Why does that eight look backward to me?  It's impossible for an eight to look backward, isn't it?  Ben says that he looks weird in this photo.  I will leave that up to you to decide.

 See, I told you that we did some major yard work.  Those dead shrubs were a bugger to remove, but the boys and I proved worthy opponents in the fight against the invasive cedars.

 Jacob finds this sort of work incredibly rewarding.  The key to getting Jacob out of a chair (and out of a book)  is to provide him with really physically challenging work.  If the work provides even a moment in which he can retreat into the world of the mind (in common parlance:  space out), we've lost him.  Thankfully, jobs like the above, as well as doing hay in the heat of the summer, provide the perfect outlets for him.  (Much to his father's relief!)

 Hannah is ever-innovative and has rigged up one of the big kid swings so that Sarah can ride on it without pitching backward.  Why not just use the baby swing? you wonder.  Because Hannah cannot haul her sister into the swing, thus necessitating some McGyvering.  Way to go, Hannah, you make me proud (and very reminiscent of my own jerry-rigging youth).

 Check out the hair on that almost two-year-old!  Where has my baby gone?  Funny story:  I bought that little outfit at Joe Fresh a few days ago.  After almost a full day's wear I noticed that only one leg is hemmed.  Can you spot the difference?  I guess it slipped through quality control at the Chinese plant.

 Now do you understand what I mean about Jacob's ability to uber-relax?

It's either this or hauling hay and digging holes:  there isn't much in between.   Back in a few days with photos of Ben's First Communion.

A fortnight

Well, it certainly seems like my posting is once a fortnight.  I really wish it were more frequent, but life just moves so very, very fast.

I don't have much to offer, but I thought that I would check in anyway with a mediocre photo of my favourite preschooler and toddler sitting in their bigger brother's birthday chair.  I have a habit of realizing the day before one of the kids' birthdays that there will be disappointment the next day if I don't buy just one more thing.  If I shared this conversation with Dave, one more thing would never be bought.  However, vestiges of gift disappointment from my own youth rear their ugly heads and I find myself in a major (and sometimes not-so-major) department store looking for something, anything.

Fortunately, the day before Ben's eighth birthday coincided with Hannah, Sarah, Isaac and I travelling to Ottawa for the March for Life.  Thus, we were in much closer proximity to major department stores than our usual locale affords.  I found myself in Target searching the toy aisle for Ben's birthday delight.    I realized that my search was probably in vain and broadened my wanderings to the storage and bedding aisles.  And there I saw it:  a beanbag chair!  Only a mother can predict how well received one's very own chair could be for a child.  If Dave had been there, he would have screwed up his eyes and asked if I was sure that Ben would really want his own chair.  Dave wasn't there, so I made my way to the self check-out and managed to pay for the chair twice before pressing the assistance button.  Country mouse.

Anyway, long story short:  my maternal instincts were correct.  The chair was a highlight of the birthday and most of the siblings fight over it quite regularly.  (Such fights are a mark of birthday-gift success.)  For a while Ben actually had to sleep with the chair in his bed to make sure that it would still be his in the morning.  In fact, I often sit in it and find it surprisingly comfortable, if not a little difficult to get up from.

I could show you other photos of our gardens, both veggie and flower, that are very much in progress. The potatoes are in and Dave is still deciding what else he would like to add.  I ripped out the entire front flower garden, which really consisted of overgrown dead shrubs that had to be dug out by me and my boys.  (This is another milestone:  the boys are big enough to be strangely useful with a shovel and wheelbarrow.)  I added new soil and compost and an exorbitant amount of perennials are waiting to be transplanted.  Dave said, "Ah, just in time for First Communion."  Ben's First Communion is on Sunday and the flowers will be ready - and no one will see them as I am taking full advantage of the fact that the church provides a cake after the mass and, thus, there is no need for a party.   Standards must be kept very low at times if we are to survive.

The glory of God is man fully alive ...

... and, perhaps, a little odd.  This is Isaac, in his choice of gear, ready for his first birthday party:  winter balaclava (because you just never know when the dreaded season might return); 'farm' shirt worn backward (I imagine the underwear is also back to front); pen dangling from necklace in an attempt to look like daddy; one croc in my attempt to coax him out of the pink cowboy boots and into a more socially acceptable form of footwear.

And Jacob, dear Jacob.  Every child is born with the desire to do something great.  This desire, at the moment, is being channeled by Jacob into an attempt to break a Guinness World Record.  (Thank you, godparents, for your recent birthday gift.)  He waffled between covering himself in sticky notes and making the longest paper chain.  He chose the latter and spent all of yesterday evening trying to get to 400 metres.  Good thing we have a large basement.

 He tells me that when he is finished I must phone the office of the Guinness World Records and ask them to come and verify his paper chain.  Apparently this involves a sworn affidavit from Dave and me attesting to Jacob's solo effort.

He tells me that he his going to string it around the track at the high school as it is 400 metres in distance.  I sure hope that it doesn't rain.

Time for photos

 This is breakfast on Easter Sunday morning.  Sometimes I am amazed to see this many children around the table:  are they really all mine?

 We were honoured to become godparents to a beautiful little girl on Easter Sunday afternoon.  I won't show you photos as I haven't asked her parents permission.  However, those are the backs of her parents.  I don't think that they will mind.  The real reason for this photo is to show you just how beautiful our little country parish is.

 Every window is stained glass and there are paintings of Gospel images on the walls and ceiling of the church.  The church itself is a catechesis for the little illiterate members of the family.  I realized this one evening mass when Isaac asked me where all the pictures had gone.  At first I was confused until I realized that it was night and Isaac was used to being in church when the outdoor light could shine through the windows and illuminate the 'pictures'.  "Ahhh," I thought, "He spends his Sundays absorbed in these images."  Thank you, Mother Church.  And, before I forget, in the bottom left of the photo is our empty tomb.  On Holy Thursday it is a jail cell; on Good Friday a life-size body of Christ lies there; and on Easter Sunday the tomb is empty, the flowers disappear and the risen Christ stands atop the tomb.  Alleluia, indeed.

 Speaking of alleluia, it is finally spring.  Spring, as in the windows can be cautiously opened, the sandals appear and the tentative wearing of shorts begins.

One of our very favourite priests, Fr. Joseph Hattie.  He is celebrating 50 years of priesthood this spring:  another alleluia.

 Enjoying some early morning fresh air.

 It is Ben's eighth birthday today.  He asked for soldiers, so I found him a huge grab bag of WWII soldiers from the Toy Soldier Company.  It came complete with barbed wire, tents, parachutes, a boat and soldiers galore.

 A face worthy of war?

Blondie, just to finish things off.