Life, love and Laundry

2011-12-09T08:29:00.000-08:00

Yesterday when I put Joseph to bed, I offered him a choice. I would read his Castle book (Yay English heritage foundation!) or give him a 'pretend story' about a castle. Predictably, he chose the pretend story. Unfortunately at that moment, my brain clicked out. So I sat there next to his bed, reaching out into the depths of my brain for a fabulous good night story. I make up stories all the time. And songs. I had a fantastic rendition of "I love my boys" during bath time, followed by "Joseph is my big boy." Really. I should be recording.

Unfortunately at this moment, my mind went blank. Hey, it was almost 10 pm and I had a headcold. So reach out into the recesses of my mind I did and came up with the following opening sentences.

"Long... long ago, long before we can remember there was a castle, which was named.. Gondor" (okay... so we had a theme established. Good. Now what would come next. )
In that castle, lived a little boy (obviously there has to be a little boy. What bedtime story would be complete without a little boy?) whose name was... (was... was) FARAMIR. (Back to the theme! Yay. I am getting there!). Faramir was a little boy who wanted to be a knight. So he practiced a lot with a wooden sword. (thank you once more, English heritage foundation!). Faramir had a big brother named..(well hey, since the theme is set, we really should go with it) BOROMIR.
Now Faramir was very nice and he was working very hard at practicing with his sword, because that was his job. One day, he saw his brother Boromir being mean to another young boy. (poor Boromir, he always get the short end of the stick.) Faramir didn't like that. He was a very kind boy and was not happy when other people were being teased. So he told Boromir to stop. But Boromir was much bigger and stronger. And he didn't stop.
So Faramir thought for a moment, then just .. poked him with his wooden sword (poke little boy in the tummy here, and hear him giggle!). Boromir told him to stop that. But Faramir said: No YOU stop that! And he poked Boromir again with his sword. (poke. giggle.) So Faramir kept poking Boromir with his sword. Then Boromir RAN after Faramir, and Faramir ran outside of the castle. When Boromir ran outside after him, Faramir ran back in and closed the drawbridge. Boromir JUMPED and just managed to hold on to the drawbridge and had to hang on by his hands while the bridge was being closed! But he managed to get in. (pfiew!)
Once he was inside, he RAN after Faramir again. But Faramir turned around and POKED him into the belly with his wooden sword. (poke, poke, poke GIGGLE!). They ran up the stairs. They ran down the stairs. They ran UP the stairs again. And then Faramir JUMPED over the trapdoor. But Boromir was running TOO hard and he fell into the trapdoor! (the Melissa and Doug castle has a trapdoor. Thank you, Melissa and Doug). Oh my...

(Little voice interupts and adds his own part to the story.) Then Faramir went down the stairs and opened the door and saved him. (mother's heart melting. BIG KISS). That is right, sweetie. He went down the stairs, and he told Boromir not to tease the other boy again. Boromir promised, and Faramir opened the door. Little boy voice: and he saved him! Mommy: very right! He saved his brother. Because he was very smart. And very kind. Goodnight, my puddleduck. KISS. Have good sleep.

Morals, literature and giggles. Oh yes, I LOVE a good pretend story.

A wonderful little adventure

2011-11-09T19:31:00.001-08:00

It hasn't been the easiest forthnight to us. That is why todays little adventure really brought an extra smile on my face. I was picking up Joseph from preschool and had to stop at a gas station. Had to stop is a pretty literal truth, because the gas light was blinking and I already had heard that 'peep' that warns you that should have filled up a day or so ago.
So I ride in, start filling the car with gas and make faces to entertain the two boys in their car seats when a white truck pulls up as well, across from ours at the other side of the pump.
A man steps out. A somewhat elderly man. Chubby. With white hair. A white beard. A white shirt. And red pants. The spitting image of.. SANTA!! I consider whether or not to say something, but stop myself. After all, the poor man has probably heard it all six thousand times before, right? Filling up the tank, making more faces, and praising them for good behaviour afterwards, I step into my car and close the door, taking the time to put my purse back to rights.
In the mean time, the man had come back out of the little gas station store, and I could not help myself. Gesturing only with my head, I said to Joseph: Look Joseph! See who is there? Does that man remind you of anyone?

At the same time, the man looks up. Either he has bat ears, he just saw the children, or he just knows what is happening in this car by experience. He starts talking to us, and I lower my window to hear!"You boys and girls come to visit me at Dutch Square mall, after Thanksgiving now, hear you! I will be looking forward to it. Just bring the camera! I will be there! *big wink*"
I smile brightly, thank him and assure him that we will! Call it a Miracle on 24th street effect, but I will be going to Dutch Square mall. A Santa who will stop, while tanking gas, in november, to grin and make children's day is a Santa worth meeting!Joseph lit up! He had seen Santa! Out for gas. I explained that the reindeer were still at the northpole. All kinds of theories and stories spring up from this small chance encounter. There is magic in a smile, and a chance encounter. And this one really made my day.

Come celebrate our maturity

2011-10-27T08:58:00.000-07:00

I first noticed it on the entertainment pages of CNN. I keep up with showbizz, because I work with teens, and whether we want to admit it or not, current culture has a huge influence on them. Since we can't lock them up, it's better to teach them to interpret and put things in a context of values. But I was not sure how to approach this. Some rock star was holding a party to celebrate his divorce. With his ex wife. They were divorcing and a number of friends were invited to join in the celebration of how they wished one another well in the next part of their lives and how they would always work together for the good of their children. So many people in the comments were indeed congratulating them, sincerely, on how responsible they were, and how happy they were to see such good examples. I do not remember who that first star was, but then I found it happening again. And again. Divorce parties and amicable split ups with people saying how wonderful their now ex partner is, are in.
And not just with celebrities. I have seen several acquaintances recently who in one sentence announce their divorce or split with the father of their children and in the same breath assure us that everything is wonderful and that they are dealing with this like mature adults who like eachother and want the best for the other and for their children. And children want their parents to be happy of course!

Really? Have you ever tried to finish something, a book, a chore, a bit of work, while your child wants you to refill their juice or read a book for the fiftieth time? Toddlers don't care about your happiness, unless it affects them. They are not supposed to worry about your happiness, but you about theirs. When they grow and become more mature, they are supposed to grow in care for others. Because care and self sacrifice is what they have seen modeled all their lives before them. The problem is that this generation of children has not seen that modeled to them. They learn the lesson early that if something makes you unhappy it is your responsibility to change it, no matter how it affects others.

People who divorce, especially amicably, quite often say that it would be a horrible thing to 'live a lie' in front of their children. The implication of course is that 'pretending that they still love their partner' would be the lie. It sounds so rational. So good. We do not want people to lie. Lying is bad. Your life however would only be a lie if love is only a feeling. Even when you do not feel in love anymore, love can be a decision. You have given your word to love that person. That doesn't mean you will feel deliriously romantic every day. It is hard to feel deliriously romantic, serene and blissfully happy when you have mashed banana in your hair, when your spouse came home late after a hard day while you were counting the minutes, and when he doesn't get the fact that you just threw him a 'look' that should have said everything. You were biting your tongue and he didn't even notice. Or your job takes you each away from home every day, and between getting your child out of daycare, off to music class and soccer practice, you barely had a chance for a conversation and when you have it is ackward because you just don't know what to say to each other anymore. You just.. drifted apart and it is all good. Clearly this wasn't meant to be, so let's celebrate that you are good and responsible adults who do not try to kill each other , and move along. After all, it is better than 'lying' to everyone and pretend that you still are in love.

But love is not an emotion. It is a decision. A choice. Divorce is the lie. You make a lie out of the vows you have made and you tell your children that nothing anybody says can ever be trusted. After all, if even words said as solemn as we can say anything, with money spend even to make the occasion as memorable as it could, with people to witness them and photographs to keep the moment saved for eternity, if even those words can not be trusted, what can? If lives can be uprooted, not because of horrible situations, but because people have 'grown apart' or 'are no longer in love' and are 'no longer happy', then what can we not sacrifice for our own happiness?

Divorce, even divorce of people who were never formally wed but bound themselves to each other through children, teaches everyone around us that there is nothing that we can hold on to, and nothing that is more important than how we feel. We, and our own feelings, are the center of the universe. We are victims of our feelings. We can not help them, train them, or put them in their place. Which means that if I am angry, I have the right to lash out, to become violent, because that is how I feel. If someone does something, I have the right to laugh at him, and make him feel stupid, or to be rude to them. Because I feel he is stupid and to pretend otherwise would be a lie. In laying off the restraint that generations have put on feelings, not to suppress them as unworthy, but to channel them into something better, we become in contrast of the maturity that is proclaimed, as immature as the toddler who did not want to let us finish anything, until his own happiness was secured, by way of a refilled juice or a book, or whatever he desired at that point.

In divorce, without the grounds of adultery or abuse, we have reduced our maturity to the immaturity of a child, and we reduce the chance of our children to grow up with the knowledge that maturity is a matter of growing in happiness, not by the immediate gratification of our wishes, but by the channeling of our feelings into becoming better human beings.

Anatomy of a work out

2011-10-18T13:37:00.000-07:00

The last two/ three months has seen me in the remarkable endeavour of actually building up a work out routine. While I love yoga, and other work outs, I found out that they just don't fit in our day to day routine. Not even the dvd version at home. My husband works out as well, and since he works out after the children go to bed, it would be nearly 11 pm before I could start. And that is not going to happen. Or I should get up earlier. Which is also not going to happen.All of a sudden I remembered that we have a treadmill upstairs that I used quite a bit before I got pregnant with Michael, and we found that while the children watched television in the evening, it was a perfect time for me to go upstairs and let dada watch the boys.

When I decided to start using the treadmill, I am not sure who thought I would hang in there. I am better at starting up routines than in sticking to them. I didn't have much faith in myself to be honest, so I decided not to buy anything for the work out (like those fancy new work out clothes that you always buy to motivate you and that then hang in your closet mocking you when you don't keep up three weeks later.). My only pair of running shoes/ sneakers however was so small it pinched my toes whenever I tried to wear them. So I spend the first three weeks running on the treadmill in a pair of target bedroom slippers. Like ballet slippers, but just with cloth instead of that leather sole. Not ideal, but after I had literally ran a hole in those slippers and could not run anymore due to treadmill burn on the bottom of my feet, I actually bought a pair of running shoes.
With a few breaks due to illnes or injury, I have kept it up, first adding to the incline until that was at maximum level, and now adding to speed. While I would definitely not think of myself as a runner, I love the way I can compete with the numbers on the treadmill, plus it is a chance to catch up on some television. I bribe myself: you can either sit here and watch the same episode of Barney with the children for the 300th time, or you can go upstairs and watch Inspctor Lewis. Or the Mentalist. So I go upstairs, put the television on. Put the treadmill on and start. And then my Inner Voice (IV) takes over.

IV: I don't feel that great, so I will just do 15 minutes.
IV after 7 minutes: I hate this. Seriously, I did 500 calories yesterday, I could take an evening off.
IV after 15 minutes: Oh, look, I am almost at the one mile mark, just add a few more minutes then I did one mile.
IV at 17 minutes: hey, I am at 223 calories, let's see if I can make it to 250.
IV at 20 minutes: hmm... I think the base speed is working pretty well. Lets's see if I can do some running, just for a bit, then I will stop after that.
IV after running: Hey, that brought me close to a mile and a half.. let's go for it.
IV at 25 minutes: oh, it would be silly to stop now. I'm at 370 calories. A little bit further and I can get to close to 450. 450 is a decent work out.
IV at 29 minutes: Oh.. *pant, pant* I am not sure I can do this. But loo... look... I am over 460. Seriously.. you know what would be really cool? If I can make it to 500 calories.
IV at 33 minutes: *pant.. pant* come on. You can do this. You can get past your previous numbers. Just a bit more.
IV at 35: Oh help.. it's past 9 pm. Time to help Bill take the children to bed. Cool down.
IV at 37 minutes: wow, I did 517 calories in 37 minutes. This is great. Can't wait to try again tomorrow.

Creativity

2011-10-12T11:41:00.000-07:00

Years ago, I participated frequently on a large Christian message board, mostly in the Catholic section. One of the things I loved was the C.C.C. (pun intended): the club of creative Catholics.
We shared our attempts, finishes and ideas for craft, sewing, knitting, embroidery and other creative projects and encouraged each other. While many people appreciate a nicely made handmade object, few who do not craft know the work and love that goes in them.
One of the hardest things when my children are small is that I have to completely abandon all creative pursuits in exchange for bare survival. In my favorite embroidery magazine, I regularly read features of women who embroidered complete baptismal gowns or large projects just after their children are born. I wonder if these are magical super women or if they have been blessed with easy children. Breastfeeding, putting a semi healthy meal together and making sure we are not smothered by the mess in the house is the only thing I can manage those first 6 months to a year. It's therefor always a joy when finally I can start my needlework again and make beauty.

Here are two recent finishes, each different from the other:

Saint Michael: A saint softie to be send to my Godchild:

I made this one based on this cute little angel doll. I would love to send you to the blog where I found the original pattern, which actually is a blog I follow regularly, but my brain has clicked out and I just can't find it. I will attribute correctly later.

A wedding handkerchief for a dear friend of mine:

Reading

2011-10-08T12:02:00.000-07:00

Oh joyous day!

2011-10-03T19:26:00.000-07:00

I have been looking forward to this moment from before the day my children were born. And today it was here. Joseph read his first book! Hurray! A little phonics book about Thomas the tank engine was my son's gateway into reading. The words are simple and of course few. Jam. Stop. Happy. Thomas. And. Very simple, very easy. But it is his first book! The first time he actually read something. I wish now we had taken a picture.

Growing

2011-10-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

Groter Groeien is the title of a Cd by Elly & Rikkert that the amazing Viola deBijl-Parent send us for Joseph's birthday. This week, I was reminded how big my boys are getting.
Joseph managed to do a shirt button all by himself today. He likes to wear button shirts. I may have had something to do with that. I call them his 'handsome button shirts'. I can't help myself. I don't have a girl, so button shirts are my Sartorial outlet! And he DOES look so handsome in them. I hereby promise myself to let him develop his own style once he is a teenager. (hopefully by that time I have him so indoctrinated that he will chose button shirts by himself. ahum.).

And earlier this week I had a first real 'question and understandbale answer' with Michael. I asked him if he wanted to go inside. He looked at me and made some sounds. I asked him inside, or outside? To which he very self assuredly replied to me "ousside!" YAY! Communication! Verbal communication! Of course he already had been using several words. " Mama" only came a month ago, well behind the names of several Thomas the tank engine trains! And then there is "juuss" (juice) and "Soy" (Soy milk) of which he can make it perfectly clear that he prefers those in his cup to water. You should see the temper tantrums he can throw when I put water in his cup. (I still do. Tantrums do not solve anything. If you do not want to drink water, you are not thirsty.)

I love seeing them develop. I love seeing them add more skills. I love getting my brain back. And, can I say, once more, how much I LOVE to see my boys getting older and bigger. I know I will miss year three.. and four one day. Yes, it is exhausting, but it is so sweet too.

I doubt I will EVER miss that first year, or in Michael's case that first year and a half, no matter what anyone says. That is one thing I have learned from having a second baby. When I had Joseph, a lot of people said, when I complained about the fact that he just did not sleep, that this was normal. This was just what babies did. And they implied that I was just exagerating what every other parent went through as well. I looked at blogs of people who had a baby of the same age and they got things done. They did stuff with their family. And they did not sound like a raving lunatic. What was wrong with me? Why could they get it together and I not?
Having had Michael, I realized that he slept like a normal baby: good nights, bad nights, but after a few months, he did not wake up every 90 minutes during the night. Michael slept like a normal baby. Joseph didn't. But Michael had colick. Screaming for hours for the first 4 months. Then he had digestive troubles. Screaming for hours for another 2 months. Then he started cutting teeth. And having a really, really hard time with every tooth. Screaming for hours. I hung on by the skin of my teeth.

And now... we are past that. Sure, there are teeth still to come, but we are on to molars and we have long breaks between the screaming days. Sure having an 18 months who is starting to learn he can not get everything he wants is not always easy, but we are back to 'normal' whatever that may mean.
Apparently that first year in our family is just about survival. I've had two very high needs babies, and I do not need to compare myself with people who have a much more easy going child. In fact, I do not need to compare myself with anyone. We did survive. Sure, it wasn't always joyously (I defy anyone to be joyous after three hours of screaming) But now we are just a normal family with two busy boys finding their way. One of them who can almost completely dress himself. Button shirts and all!

Yes you can...

2011-09-30T08:20:00.000-07:00

Yes you can play with your children while wearing a dress. You can go down and be a slide, a climbing rack and cuddle bear. You can play 'turtle turtle" (which envolves wrapping a 4 year old in a heavy duvet and holding it while he escapes to the play house and giggles "I RAN AWAY". Or you can be a Lego playing mommy horse.

I often hear from women who say they wear sweatpants and oversized T shirts because it is more practical than a dress. In four years of motherhood to two rambunctious boys, there are very few things (like rock climbing) I have found that I can not do in an appropriate dress, and many a thing that I should not do in an oversized T shirt and faded yoga pants: like going to the store. I represent myself, my husband, my children when I go out of the house. And sure, I actually might not have had the time to brush my teeth that morning, but that does not mean I need to look like a non tooth-brusher. Oh, trust me, I do not look like those super fashionable moms who never have a hair out of place. Being able to actually use the hair dryer and style my hair luxury moment for me. And luxury does not happen every day. But it takes just as long, or even shorter, to quickly put on a pretty dress (or a pretty pair of pants and an attractive knit top), as it is to put on sweats. The name of these pieces of clothing speaks to their purpose: yoga pants are intended to do yoga. Sweats to exercise in. Unless you are doing either, they are not really suitable for the activity. Okay, yard work and deep cleaning the attic might be okay, but honestly, you can mop a floor as well in a halfway decent pair of pants or a nice skirt.

These clothes will get dirty of course, but so will your over sized T shirt. Both can be washed. And little hands with apple sauce are no less jarish to look at on a "Go Cardinals' sweater than on a nice blouse. So go ahead... no need to break out the pearls and heels, but consider what you give your husband to look at. You may not have a personal trainer and designer mineral water to sip, but you have a wardrobe (even if filled with trift store finds) that can show him you care!

Inclusive language

2011-09-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

Everyone who reads this blog knows that I love being a woman. Sure there are the hard parts that we all know, but over all, I am so happy to be a woman. I glory in womanhood so to speak. And the ways of Christian womanhood is one of the most wonderful, blessed roads to discover.
It therefor surprised me to learn that there was a new, more gender-inclusive, translation of the bible. Now I do not have anything against new and more accurate bible translations. In fact there recently has been a new bible translation in Dutch and I was very interested in the process and the why and how of changes and so on.
But to change a translation to be more 'gender inclusive' does not seem to be an attempt to improve on translations, but more a .. tampering to fit the spirit of the times.

I stumbled over this article which brings up a lot of good points, and thought to share it here.

More Birthday celebrations

2011-09-22T09:16:00.001-07:00

It seems like Joseph did not just have a birthday, but a birthday month. We started celebrating on labor day. After that, several cards came in the mailbox, so the festivities felt as if they continued. My mother arrived from Belgium for his birthday celebration on the fifteenth, which made the rest of the week feel like a vacation as well. On the nineteenth we had a party. Some guests were asked at the very last minute, but they came and we had the loveliest of easy going birthday parties.

We re used some paper plates from earlier birthday parties, I made a cake (but you read all about that in the previous post) and we served soup and hotdogs. The children sat at their own little table in the playroom, which is across the hallway, open to the dining room. It was informal, simple, and so much fun.

Two days after that big birthday party, came the 'real birthday'. The intention was that there would only be the little snacks as a celebration that he took to preschool. But there still was a big gift from Mimi.

And then mail brought a box full of Lego's from his Godfather (Pooh Lego duplo which Michael also LOVED). And since it was Ama's last evening she wanted to spoil both of her boys one more time by giving them Clifford and TBone stuffed animals. We made a box of homemade Auntie Annie's pretzels, which are a big favorite. Despite a lot of 'help' they turned out quite nicely too.

So in the end, Joseph's real birthday turned into a third birthday party anyhow.

Only one more week till Michael's Saint's day, and then about a month till All Saints and All Souls and thus Halloween. Then a short few weeks till Thanksgiving, Saint Nicholas, and Christmas is glistening close again. Oh my!

2011-09-20T20:27:00.000-07:00

For everyone who admired the cake, here is the cheat sheet:

- Bake basic cake. (cheat, and use a mix, because you don't want to complicate your first cake decorating effort by worrying about how the cake itsself will turn out.

- Follow instructions on the box and on the cake form carefully (butter and flour the form) so that your cake comes out in one piece.

- Do a little dance for joy!

- Take a box of store bought icing and discover that you bought 'stiff decorator icing, ideal for borders and roses'.

- Start to slightly panic.

- rejoice when reading on the back label that you can thin it out with water, milk or cream.

- Add cream, a dash of lemon and stirr like crazy.

- Find out that you have made it too thin and that the icing is sliding off the side.

- Pray.

- Find your prayers answered when you realize that you could just add some of the stiffer icing that is still in the jar.

- Smear it all over the cake and smooth lightly with a spoon or knife, because you were too cheap to buy the palette knife in the store.

- Beam proudly at your white, mostly smooth, cake!

- Mix some blue foodcolouring into some of the white icing.

- Make a big mess by not being careful when putting it in the squeezing/ piping bag.

- Pipe blue lines on the cake, because the stars you started to try all around the border require more practice than you had (none).

- Do not leave well enough alone.

- Mix up a batch of red icing.

- Grumble and growl when you notice that the piping tip you wanted to use is completely shut, probably because somebody stepped on it one time or another!

- Try to remove tip from icing bag.

- Discover that this is not so easy.

- Run your sink full of coloured icing water, barely avoid stomping your feet like a four year old and end up with your mother saving the day!

- Realize that the only suitable piping tip that is left besides the one that has been stepped on is.. the one you just used for the blue icing.

- Resist the temptation to curse.

- But do wail and moan. You are after all, human!

- Just cut open the piping bag you used for the blue icing to free the tip that has also become stuck.

- Make a mess anyhow, turning the water in your sink purple, as well as your hands.

- Pipe red lines of icing in between the blue ones

- Pipe a big four in the middle.

- Plop the thomas candle on the front so it looks like he drove out of a tunnel.

- Put three plastic Thomas figurines on top.

- Have a cranky birthday boy interrupt you all through the previous steps by whining and have your mother foist him off.

- Contemplate on whether you really WANT to make him a birthday cake, but bask in pride when it is all finished.

- Add candles at last moment.

- Wonder whether you were insane for doing this when you could have just BOUGHT a cake!

- Serve with a smile and do not tell this story to anyone.

Schooling, homeschooling

2011-09-14T10:35:00.001-07:00

Life as a mother is much simpler in Belgium. At 3 years old your little boy or girl goes to school and you do not think twice about it. Schools are free to give religious education, and if you do not like one school, you go to another. So thoughts of homeschooling are very rare.
Here in the US, with a diverse group of friends, you end up feeling guilty and doubting yourself no matter what you decide. Do your friends who homeschool their children love them more? Is it okay to enjoy the silence even if you miss your little boy? You pray, you consider, and then you make a choice. And whatever that choice is, I guess you keep doubting whether or not you do the right thing. School is not biblical? Homeschool is not academically challenging, especially with a second high needs child under foot? School instills a different type of discipline? School might undermine parental authority? I went to public and Christian school and on to a secular university. think I became a devout, well adjusted, happy and academically enriched adult. But to so many people that I admire, sending your children to school seems anathema. And to other people that I admire, even the possibility of homeschooling gives them hives.

For now, Joseph goes to a christian preschool for 3 hours 3 days a week, and we love the school. But already I am worrying about future decisions. Catholic elementary school? We love the one at our church, but do I honestly want to spend thousands of dollars on it? Do I want to homeschool? Does it matter whether or not I want it? Is it automatically best for my child? I loved school. I might not have loved all the social aspects, having been an ackward and weird teenager, but I think school enriched me.

I don't know. I can only pray and make choices for the best.

It ain't always pretty: the religious education edition

2011-09-13T11:56:00.000-07:00

I usually have the cutest stories about how my boys grasp some theological concept, or do something sweet and inspiring. I have promised myself years ago that I would try to always give a true picture of motherhood though, and religious education is not without it's pitfalls. Or funny moments. Or both. Yesterday we hit a hattrick in 'Oh God!' moments, and well, most of them were not of the type you see in church.

The christian children's cd we often play in the car.

I guess it started shortly after noon. I had taken Joseph home from preschool where he had a very good day. Apparently all his good juices had been used up though, because he became a severely disobedient boy. He needed to go to time out. Time out has been in place as a practice for a long time. He needs to sit on a little chair, in the corner for three minutes. Afterwards, we talk about why he had to go to time out, what was wrong and what he can do better next time. It's a system that works for us. Only this time, Joseph was not having it. He tried to get out. Now I was not having that. Each time he went off that little chair, I put him back on and added 30 seconds to the clock. It took over fifteen minutes for it to sink in that he was not going to get away with it. And then he just seemed to accept it. I went to the kitchen to put some things away and all of a sudden I heard him sing from his little time out chair:

"In het heetst van de strijd
in het holst van de nacht
in het hol van de leeuw
ben ik sterk in Jezus' macht."

(in the heat of the battle,
in the deep of the night,
in the den of the lion,
I am strong in Jesus' might.)

hmmmmm... does he KNOW what he is singing???

Later that afternoon, I had to intervene after Michael had managed to get into the bathroom and flushed the toilet. I ran up, always afraid that he will have some cars jammed in that will flood our bathroom, but no such thing. Pfieuw! Lucky! I removed Michael from the bathroom and life went on.
Half an hour later Joseph needed to go potty. For some reason, recently, he wants to to on the toilet instead of the small potty. Okay by me, but all of a sudden Joseph stopped and refused to go on. He pointed at something. I sighed and expected to see a small speck of dirt or a shred of toilet paper that had been left behind. Instead, I clearly saw a small object that I must have overlooked earlier at the bottom of the toilet. I reached in. (Yes... I am a mom. I reached in) and retrieved a two inch, very heavy bronzed statue of Our Lady from the bottom of our toilet. In the category of things-you-never-thought-you-would-say "Michael, we do not flush the Virgin Mary." ranks definitely high on the list.

I am never certain if this is a guardian angel with a baby

or Our Lady in a shrine: are those wings or not?

Because we are an undeterred family and had made some resolutions after our last vacation in Hilton Head, after all of this it still seemed like the right day to start an official moment of family prayer. Now we pray often in short bursts through the day: before dinner, before naptime, before bedtime... and whenever something just comes up that allows for an opportunity to learn about faith, and kindness and living for others. But we wanted a moment as a family where we can pray all together.
We decided, for now, on a decade of the rosary. Two parents, two children. Two rosaries. One big chunky kids one for mommy and the children, a normal one for daddy. We were just a few moments into the prayer when Michael wiggled off my lap (not unexpected) then decided to get the "Holy Baby ball' out and try it as a soccer ball.

Holy Baby: we bought the ball for Joseph, not knowing who Holy Baby was.
Years later, Michael got the Holy Baby doll, because he loves the little cartoon.

Well, hey.. at least he got some of the idea. Joseph, almost four, should be able to sit still for the five minutes this would take. After he started to run around like a crazy mustang hyped up on a few gallons of starbucks, he was coralled on dada's lap. He sat quiet for a few moments, then decided to consider it a rock climbing adventure, with dada, not Peter, being the rock. We got to the end of the decade, though most of the prayers were said upon a half chuckle. Today: round two. Are we crazy, or what?

Reflection on 9/11

2011-09-11T09:27:00.001-07:00

We should never forget 9/11. We should never forget what happened that day. The wound that was given to all that is normal and innocent in this world.
But in remembering, let us not keep the evil of that day in our hearts. Those that we call the heroes of 9/11 did not go into those towers to help others out of hatred or avenging what was done.
They went in there out of love and duty and honour, giving their lives for that of others. That is the legacy they left us, and that is what we will honor. Not the legacy of hatred that those that kill and destroy want to bequath us. We reject them. Like Satan we rebuke them. Vade retro Satana! But the legacy of the purest of love "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." that has been show on that day by so many, that is the legacy that we will hug to our hearts.

We should remember as Christians what we ought to pray to be able to do: forgive. Not because what was done to us is right, or good, or in any way justifiable. But because anger and hatred will hold our own souls captive. Forgiving those we love and those that love us is easy. Forgiving those that hate us is hard. We can not do it without God's help. But we must make the decision that we want to forgive, even if we feel we can not. The desire to forgive, asking God for the strength to be able to do so, is the beginning of opening our heart to His grace.

A reminder from today's readings:

From Sirach:
"Wrath and anger are hateful things,
yet the sinner hugs them tight.
The vengeful will suffer the LORD's vengeance,
for he remembers their sins in detail.
Forgive your neighbor's injustice;
then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven."

From the Gospel of Matthew:
Peter approached Jesus and asked him,
"Lord, if my brother sins against me,
how often must I forgive?
As many as seven times?"
Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.

Hair

2011-09-06T10:01:00.000-07:00

Take a good look at this picture. Go ahead... click on it and make it as large as it can get. I like this picture. I think I look pretty in it. The moment I saw it on the little camera window, I said; "Oh, sweetie, that one looks great!" Well, of course I look great in it was what I meant. Joseph is making a weird face as he is trying to pull his hat off.
Unfortunately, when I pulled the picture up on the computer, I saw it. Ghasp! GREY hair!!! My long mane, my pride and crowning glory, my vanity (I will admit it), and now, there is silver creeping through it.
Now I had noticed over the last three years that maybe once every four or five months I would sprout a grey hair, but I always considered it an anomaly. A harbinger of things to come, preferably in about ten years or so. I am only 35 after all. Surely that is too young to start going grey.
But recently they have crept up more frequently. No, not that I have big chunks of grey going through, but instead of once every four months plucking out a colourless hair, it happened more frequently. Like every month. Or every week or two. And now this. The first photographic evidence of slender silver threads sneaking through my hair. It shocked me.
I was really considering of having my hair cut pretty soon. I LOVE it long, but it was getting harder and harder to 'put up' without giving me a headache, and at the end of a day with the children (or after an hour or two on some days) I was starting to look unkempt. I was considering going pretty short, to let the curls come out again, and with the intention of letting it grow back to my shoulders again. Like in this picture.

But now I am hesitating. Should I cut it? Or should I wait and ride out my long locks as long as I can? After all, once the grey really comes through, keeping it very long can look rather unkempt again. And I want to keep on looking elegant and growing older gracefully. Not a dilemma I thought I would face in my thirties! So, what is your advice?

celebrations

2011-09-06T06:07:00.001-07:00

It took us a while to get rid of the sickness that had permeated our house. It was stubborn and lingering and annoying. And the whole rhythm and routine that I had gotten into as well as the great progress that I had made in getting the house nice and clean had gone out of the window.
Luckily when we finally were better there was a treat in store for us. My wonderful husband's wonderful parents and sister came to South Carolina for a weekend of relaxation and an advanced birthday celebration for Joseph. His real birthday is not till September 21st, but since my mother in law just starts a new job the week before that, celebrating a bit early seemed appropriate.

For me, it meant several pairs of extra hands who loved taking the boys to the pool, playing with them and urging me and my husband to get the extra rest we needed, do our work, or go out to dinner with just the two of us. We did. We talked. We had time to speak about some things we want to change, some things we love, some things we want to try. We had time to walk hand in hand under the moonlight. We felt recharged.

And we had some lovely cake and presents too of course!!!

Sick

2011-08-29T09:25:00.000-07:00

I am sorry for the unscheduled break just when I was getting into a groove, but we've been sick here. My husband and oldest were first to come down with a cold, while Michael and I were experiencing a minor stomach upset. By the time they recovered, that mild tummy upset had turned into a horrible stomach bug that will not be described here to preserve the sensibilities of my readers.

Michael seems to be still rather tired but getting better. I however am still in the throes of it. Not fun. I will hopefully be back very soon, because that means the plague here is over.

Pretty, happy, funny, real

2011-08-25T19:15:00.001-07:00

Pretty

Perhaps not my usual definition of pretty, but I did buy new running shoes. I promised myself not to buy any equipment for an exercise program/ thing that I wouldn't keep up with. After one month of dutiful walking/ running on the treadmill every day though, I had actually run holes in the bedroom slippers from target that I was running with. So now I have these pretty new running shoes.

Happy

Happiness is a new lunchbox. I have a thing for organizers. And for lunches. And for boxes. Combine everything into one and you have this pretty, organized lunchbox. I had my eyes on it for over a year, but at over fourty dollars it was just too expensive. A groupon however finally brought the coveted item in reach. Hurray!

Funny

Very nearly asleep on his feet. I shouldn't find that picture so funny, because getting a pair of new molars has him up several times at night, and of course me as well. So I quite often feel the way he looks in this picture. But oh my does he not look sweet, and cute and funny and grumpy all in one sleepy whole?

Real

I've been posting all these pretty food pictures lately, with cute shapes and happy faces, or put down on the 'pretty-tablecloth-in-the-dining-room-that-is-seldom-used-and-therefor-stays-pretty'. But half smushed grilled cheese sandwiches are a mom's reality of life, just as much as pretty boxes.

Lunch Tray and block building

2011-08-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

The lunch tray was such a success last week, that I decided to try it again. The idea is an old one, based on muffin tin lunches. I've tried it in the past and it's almost always a hit. The cute little food sticks just finished the pretty picture: we have carrots, bell pepper, mango, tiny pizza rolls and left over toasted ravioli. We had a serious orange theme going on there. No special reason, it just turned out that way and I thought it looked pretty cheerful.

As a completely non lunch related topic: we have been building a lot with blocks lately. Finally. My eldest never really cared too much for blocks. Wooden train tracks, yes. Blocks, no. Which is too bad, because I've always liked blocks. It's one of my few non girly girly things that I thought I could share with my sons. Joseph received blocks of course, the right size for the right age, but he never seemed to care too much or play with them for too long. Michael however has more of the builder in him, and seeing his younger brother play seems to have awakened Joseph's interest. We are currently making spaceships. To fly to Mars. He will be captain Joseph, and I can be passenger mommy. That sounds just perfect to me.

As a side note: what is it with boys and not wearing pants? They start out fully clothed most of the day, but by afternoon, well.. let's say that there is a reason why you mostly see my boys from the waste up!

Chicken rice coconut curry soup: almost quicker to make than to pronounce.

2011-08-22T18:54:00.001-07:00

This fast and yummy microwave soup (no, it's not an oxymoron) came about somewhat by accident because I wanted something quick and tasty for lunch, and something that wouldn't require me to spend much time at the stove.

I had leftover rice from last nights dinner. I had made too much. I always make too much. Even my husband's lunch burrito for the next day still left me with left over rice. The children had vegetarian corn dogs for lunch and I couldn't really think of how to add rice to those. I already was pushing the envelope there with the broccoli.

My first thought was to just add some broth to it. Well, maybe I could also add some veggies. Then I would have a soup.

I used a microwave rice steamer. Any type of microwave cookpot will do. I put in some mixed frozen veggies (california mix: broccoli, carrots and cauliflower), and added water. Then I added some chicken base. (you can of course also use stock cubes or chicken stock or whatever you have on hand). I gave it about four minutes due to the frozen veggies. Then I, on impulse and because I felt like experimenting, I added some shredded frozen coconut that I had in the freezer for smoothies, and some yellow Thai currypaste that I have in the fridge for well.. curry. I gave it another two minutes in the microwave then spooned in some rice from the fridge, 30 more seconds and YUMMY! Much better than what I was expecting.

Adventures in lunch

2011-08-21T19:11:00.001-07:00

... with a bit of breakfast thrown in. It really does pay off to have a plan. Who would have thought it? Now I need to shop tomorrow and make sure that I make a new plan for breakfast and lunch and dinner for next week. I tried to pay special attention to making some fun things for the boys but found some inspiration for myself as well. Here is a picture gallery of a few of the things I made. Now trying to find more inspiration for next week for more original ideas.

Dinosaur shaped turkey sandwiches for breakfast.

Snack tray raisins, prunes, apples, pears, pretzels and graham crackers.

leftover soup: chicken, coconut, curry rice.

Inspiration of the moment, ready in ten minutes and YUMMY!

Oatmeal, left over from breakfast as a pre lunch snack. Yummie!

I have been eyeing this lunchbox for over a year. With a great coupon I finally bought it:

bento style lunch, which we ate picnic style on the living room floor.

Smoothies! My boys love them. Banana raspberry and coconut in this one.

Raspberry muffins in assorted muffin cups for saturday breakfast.

There you are..

2011-08-20T19:45:00.001-07:00

Well, what do you think of my new header? I think I am finally done with blog changes. I am pretty happy about how it finally turned out. There may be some final tweaks, but no big things for now. On another note.. is there anyone still reading? *L*

Experiments

2011-08-19T13:55:00.001-07:00

Yes, I have been experimenting with the settings of my blog again. Don't worry, this won't become a habit. I just was never fully satisfied with the previous look. I am happy with the wider text portion that I have now, but not yet with pictures and colors. So stay tuned for some more changes over the next two days.
After that, I have some interesting things to show, ahum, on our continuing lunch saga. We've been having a bit of fun with our food lately! Stay tuned.

My husband's lunch

2011-08-18T07:04:00.000-07:00

Since I am trying to put a bit more thought in lunch, I am also trying to put a bit more thought in my husband's lunch. My husband honestly doesn't care too much about how his food looks, as long as it is tasty. And even there he is not too discriminate. While I fret over whether a soup is as good as last time and whether or not I should add a little bit more nutmeg next time, he just says "It's really good." That's why I try not to waste time on cutesy-ing up his lunch. He likes to take left overs and my main contribution is trying to pack them immediately after we finish dinner and put them in the freezer so he has a variety to chose from.

Yesterday evening though after the children were off to bed and my husband was doing P90X exercises, I decided I would feel better if I cleaned the kitchen instead of playing bubble games on the computer. I did. I also saw the left over gumbo had not been put away and for some reason when putting it, with some rice in a lunchbox and back in the fridge, I noticed the wraps. Hmmm... Inspiration dawned. I recently had an amazing vegetarian burrito from Chipotle. Could I come close to making one? I didn't have the guacamole, but I hope texturally I came close.

So off he is for his "first day of school", the beginning of the new semester at University, and ready to great the students, with this little treat in his lunchbox.

How does your husband feel about lunch or food in general? Does he like it all prettied up? Or does he care (almost) exclusively about taste?

I love it when a plan comes together...

2011-08-17T18:37:00.000-07:00

I have no illusions that from now on I will never face the lunch day slump anymore, but at least for today, things went well. It might also be because our day was, by necessity a bit more planned out than usual.
Breakfast worked out fine. Everyone ate something, and I even thought about packing two bento's with healthy snacks (okay, and a few animal crackers) for our morning.

I had a meeting in the nursery of the church. A great part of working for the church is that the people I work with are very accommodating. They thought it was an asset that I was a mother with children, because in working with teenagers, this gives them a vision of the realities of life. They also are willing to work, not just around my schedule with the children but with the schedule, so many a meeting comes takes place in the church nursery with the boys playing around my feet. After that, we had a moms meeting. This is not a moms day out, but moms and children coming together to play and talk while we watch our children and each others children at the same time.
After that we went home and it was lunch time. I didn't have to think. I realize now how much easier lunch and breakfast are if I do not have to think.
We had veggie corn dogs with ketchup and broccoli. For some reason my oldest son loves broccoli, so we have it once a week at least for dinner and sometimes thrown in for lunch as well.

I even managed to 'cute up' the plates a little bit. It's a start.

this picture made me feel virtuous.

Doing something...

2011-08-16T20:00:00.000-07:00

So after I made that little post about half an hour ago, I decided that this was a case of 'knowing what I should be doing and just not doing it'. I needed a plan. I always do better if I have a plan.
My first impulse was of course to go trawl the net to find the perfect little menu plan maker. Then I decided that was silly, overly perfectionist, and putting off the part that would actually help my children get a decent breakfast or lunch. (My husband has a decent lunch because he takes leftovers from the healthy and yummy dinners that I cook, and prefers a bowl of cereal for lunch.).
So off I went to the fridge that was nice and full after our shopping trip to Aldi on Sunday and Publix today. My very special tools were a piece of paper that I had grabbed from the printer and a pen. Fancy, I know!
But.. tadaa! Here is the result. Now hopefully this will keep me on track for the next week!

The eyes eat firsts...

2011-08-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

That's a very loose translation of a Dutch saying. I am striving lately to make the food for my children look nicer. I know that it's important how it looks, because Joseph will refuse to eat anything that is a stew, no matter how much he loves the ingredients that are actually in there. I do not make him anything different and now and again stew will find it's way on our menu, but I also try to keep my boys visual appeal in mind when I prepare something. Putting oatmeal in a silicone bear cup and calling it fuzzy wuzzy oatmeal gets it in quicker and is not anymore trouble for me. I would love to make our lunches look like bento's, but since we usually eat at home for lunch, I am afraid that rarely happens. In fact, a decent lunch rarely happens. today's lunch was.. popcorn and apples. I need a lunchplan. Anyone have any ideas or tips for me?

I won't call it homeschooling...

2011-08-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who protests against anyone saying they are 'homeschooling' until their child is actually six and the choice needs to be made between either formally teaching the child at home, or sending it to school. According to her whatever you do before should just be called parenting. After all, are we not the teachers of our children throughout their entire childhood, even if you send them to a public or Christian school? Whether you homeschool or not, are we always looking for opportunities to teach our children?

The last weeks, we are trying to fit in more 'formal' teaching moments. We don't have a set schedule, we don't have a set program. We just.. chose to do some reading and writing exercises now and again, because I just can not wait to share this with my boy. Something I could easily wait with would be mathematics. Unfortunately Joseph seems, just in daily conversations and what he catches here and there on a parents whim, to have a bit of a knack for mathematics. So I decided to buy a math book from the Target dollar aisle, and today we had our first mathematics session. In my opinion, he is MUCH quicker about it than I ever was. Let's see where this adventure leads us!

Blackwork

2011-08-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

A picture of my latest needlework venture. This will be, when it is finished, a bible cover in black work embroidery. It will be a grooms gift to the fiance of a very special friend of mine, my youth ministry college Anne. It is rare to encounter someone who shares a spirituality, a sense of humour and an outlook on life with you. A year ago, I met Anne and found all three in one. She is ten years younger and about to embark on the journey of married life. Her fiance is a wonderful young man and worthy of her. He is a recent convert to Catholicism, and I was planning on making this bible cover for his official entry in the church. That was last february. Oooops.

Lunch

2011-08-12T13:09:00.001-07:00

I love to be creative and I love to give my boys attractive and healthy food. Unfortunately, I usually lack both the time and the energy. I settle for healthy food. And sometimes I just settle for food, period. Still... I keep trying. Healthy works out most of the times, especially in the evening. My oldest is a slightly picky eater, but he does not have a problem with veggies. I make the same meal for everyone, with two exceptions: Joseph does really not like peas, so I make sure there are two vegetables. And Michael has trouble digesting milk so I buy him soy milk. Aside from that, we all eat the same adult meal. Why would I feed them chicken nuggets when we are having stir fry?

Lunch and breakfast are my big challenges though. So when the stars aligned today and I managed a cute and healthy lunch, I had to snap a picture as proof! It took less effort than it looked: I had some microwavable ready rice and after microwaving, I just squeezed it into two silicone bunny baking molds that I had. (Bought them on sale for Easter, forgot about them, never used them till now.) While they cooled down, I put some frozen cauliflower in the microwave steamer, and cut a few baby carrots. That's it. Easy enough. Now if only I found a rice like that that did not come pre salted!

2011-08-10T11:31:00.000-07:00

"That mom" is a member of my church. I had the pleasure of teaching her oldest daughter last year in confirmation class. We are part of the mom's group together. Our lives regularly cross. And I LOVE reading her blog.. This week's entry resonated with me. Siblings. I guess unless you are an only child yourself, sibling relationships are not something that really wonders you. But to me it is magic to see it. Last week, Joseph had gone to spend four days with his grandparents. While he was there, he didn't even want to come to the phone to talk with mommy, so much fun he had. But he DID admit to missing his 'baby'. When he arrived back here at home, he ran right past mommy who was waiting with open arms and dived for his brother who was sitting on the couch.

I grew up with other children at the 'stay over' mom after and before school. But it was not the same as having brothers and sisters. We were friends. We now are acquaintances. But living together, and sharing parents and space every single day is different. I can see it in my boys. It's intriguing to me to see how they become friends and more. The last two months I have seen them discover each other as playmates. Joseph realizes that Michael can run after him, or that he can run after Michael. Michael learns how to push a train over the tracks that Joseph has made. Sometimes they cuddle up and wiggle all over each other like puppies.
I have never known that. Never seen that. It is both strange and miraculous for me to watch those two very different children of a different age interact and grow together.

Some pictures

2011-08-05T19:23:00.000-07:00

Joseph is spending a few days with his grandparents, which leaves me with only one child. This feels very strange. Quiet and serene, but strange. I decided that I needed to have some pictures taken of Michael since we have a lot less of him than of his brother. After all, every photo shoot now has two boys so there can't be all the time devoted to one. And Joseph who is a bit older just outshines him. So.. to keep all Michael's cuteness forever fixed so it can not slip out of my poor visual memory.

I thought they came out cute! Here is a small selection:

It's all so... quiet...

2011-08-05T07:55:00.001-07:00

Well, life is not. I am dealing with some extended family troubles that are too private to speak about in such a public atmosphere, but I would really appreciate your prayers! I hope to get back to regular blogging very soon!

Waffle recipe

2011-07-25T21:04:00.000-07:00

If you want to make some 'real Belgian waffles' I will share this recipe. These are not the famous Brussels waffles. (will need to put that recipe down another time, but I need to work out the yeast issue first). These are waffles that are described in my mother's cooking book as 'hard' waffles that you can keep for a longer time.

16 gram baking powder = 3 teaspoons
500 gram flour = 4 cups and a bit
400 gram sugar= 2 cups
350 gram butter 1 1/2 cup of butter
5 eggs
2 dl melk = slightly over 3/4 of a cup
dl olie = slightly over 1/3 of a cup.
1 teaspoon of vanille aroma

Soften butter, stirr eggs in, add milk and oil, stir well, add flour, then the rest, baking powder last. Oil waffle iron and bake according to your waffle irons' directions.

These came out really well. Do not overfull your iron as they will rise. Now I need to see how they are tomorrow!

The National Holiday Party

2011-07-22T18:52:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Belgium, it would never have occurred to me to do something for our National Holiday. Patriotism, or open patriotism is not part of the culture. This has complex reasons that have to do with history, culture and different languages in one country. When you bicker among yourselves so regularly, it is hard to build up that feeling of pride. And yet, the longer I stay in America, the more I also feel my love for Belgium grow. My roots become more and more precious to me, both Flemish and Belgian.

That's why I decided to throw a National Holiday Party. I invited a befriended couple and figured out that waffles should be the obvious choice. Since I could think of nothing else that went with waffles aside from breakfast (in Belgium waffles are a stand alone snack, or vijfuurtje -five o clock snack), I decided to marry two countries together and make breakfast for dinner.

On a whim, I decided to get some cardboard plates at Party City in the colours of the Belgian flag. I chose yellow plates, red small plates, and black cutlery and napkins. Displaying the Belgian flag, even on the National holiday is very rare. I doubt if even one percent of the Belgian households has a Belgian flag. Though the current political crisis is making more people aware of whether they feel Belgian or not. Maybe that is what inspired me as well.

I was happy to find an old red tablecloth that made everything stand out prettily and then I remembered.. for my bridal shower more than five years ago the ladies had chosen the theme of a "Worldwind" romance, and there had been American and Belgian flags for decoration. And I had saved those! Some cream earthenware cups were filled with rice and decorative stones and I put the Belgian flags in there for centerpieces. I added our St. Joseph statue as well, since he is the patron Saint of Belgium

We had a fun evening, in which I shared about my country, we discussed culture and difference, made waffles together, and chased children. The crunchy bacon was actually a huge hit. It barely made it to the table!
Looking over the pictures I am charmed at how effortless and fun everything came together. And I noticed afterwards, that even the food on my plate was black (grilled sausages), yellow (eggs and waffles) and red (bacon and strawberries for the waffles.) I hadn't purposely planned it that way, but it delighted me to see it!

How do you honour the cultures that are part of your heritage?

Pretty, happy, funny, real

2011-07-22T10:36:00.000-07:00

Pretty

I managed to French braid my hair for our outing to the sea. Vanity it may be, but I was so happy to look at these pictures and not see the usual hair escaping and hanging like limp spaghetti's around my face, making me look unkempt.

Happy

I managed to have a party for the Belgian National Holiday. Two friends came over, and I set the table with the colours of the Belgian flag, added the Belgian patron Saint (St. Joseph) to our table, and had a great evening. When looking back on the pictures, I saw that the food just colour coordinated so well: it had the colours of the Belgian flag too: yellow for the eggs and waffles, red strawberries and bacon, and the black grillmarks on the sausage. Unplanned, and so much fun!

Funny

Michael's first time trying paints. He kept insisting on putting the little crayola brush thing in his mouth. I kept putting it back in his hand, he kept putting it back in his mouth. And so on. His blue lips go well with his little green onesie, don't they?

Real

I love cooking. And baking. And I like to think that I try and make healthy food for my family. Most of the time. Some days however, things go awry. And some weeks are a pandemonium and you end up with not enough time or energy to make what you would want to make. I had lots of things in the house to make complete filling meals, but none of us were really hungry. I ended up making a quick, microwave version of butternut squash soup (not as good as the one I usually make), and some mini muffins from a mix. Then I found out I didn't have any butter, and Joseph really wants butter on his. The best I could come up with was this bag of movie theater popcorn butter. So that's how I served him. But at least I didn't go for take out Chinese for the second time that week. Right?

Belgian National Holiday

2011-07-21T06:29:00.001-07:00

Today is the Belgian National Holiday. I am thrilled that all my national holidays are in the same month. America, Flanders and Belgium. Flanders is the Historic region and language community of Belgium where I am from. The language is Dutch and the history goes back before Roman times. Belgium on the other hand is a rather young nation. We won our independence from the Netherlands in 1830 and decided we wanted to be a democracy, but also a kingdom, not a republic. So we chose Leopold of Saksen Coburgh to be our king. He came from a long aristocratic family and was the uncle of the later Queen Victoria of England. On July 21st the King swore the oath to the constitution in parliament.

Currently in Belgium the different communities are arguing, about money, about who has the right to decide what, and who has the right to be elected where. That is why, a year after the elections, we still do not have a new government. Things go on as usual, but no new laws can be made. A year is too long. Like in the US, both parties feel they can absolutely not budge on certain issues and the people are becoming inpatient with their politicians who can't seem to solve problems. But of course they also do not want 'their' politicians to give in.

Despite all that, or maybe because of all the pressures from within, some Belgians start to develop a new appreciation for their country. Coming to American has taught me a lot. It also taught me to show my appreciation for my homeland more openly and enthusiastically.

The waffle edition

2011-07-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

After five years (almost) of living in the US, I still have not lost my 'charming' Belgian accent. This seems an invitation for people to ask me where I am from. From the people at McDonalds, the lady who hears me talking to my children in the doctor's office, in the grocery store... everyone finds an accent interesting. I don't mind. I realize it is something that makes me stand out and that it is a conversation maker. Plus it is a chance to speak a little bit more about my country. Aside from the people who have actually travelled to Europe, there are only two things people know about Belgium: we have chocolate. And we have waffles. Some men actually know a third fact and that is that we have beer. There is more to Belgium than chocolate, waffles and beer! (You should taste our asparagus!)

But seriously, while there is more to Belgium than food, food is definitely a part of our culture. You should get the average Belg talking about subject of fries for example. I like to cook. And to bake. It's therefor quite a shock, even to myself, that I have never actually made that worldrenowned staple of Belgian cuisine: Belgian waffles. Now let me start here with a snobbish qualification: there is no such things as Belgian waffles. What is described here in the US as Belgian waffles are actually mostly Brussels waffles. They are light and crunchy and go great with strawberries, wipped cream, chocolate, bananas and a host of other toppings, but are delicious just as is with a little dusting of powdered sugar.

But aside from those Brussels waffles, there are other Belgian favorites. "Luikse wafels" or "Liege waffles" are a lot more doughy and dense and sugary, and in their own way equally delicious. Sometimes they are called 'sugar waffles', though I believe true waffle connaisseurs might not take kindly to that description. They are much more filling and often have sugarcrystals on the ends. And then there are "galetten", a hard, crispy, cookie like waffle that keeps a bit better, and has a distinct vanilla flavor, last but not least something that I can only describe as a hard waffle, which is more of a cross between 'galetten' and the Liege waffle. They are more dense like the Liege waffle, but smaller, slightly.. lighter and with a more destinct vanilla flavor.

There. That should set the record straight. Like there is not just one "European style" (I don't know why fashion editors here keep using that term, when they are mainly refering to French or Italian styles), there is not just one Belgian waffle. There are many. And they are ALL delicious. But if you want to talk about what is called "the Belgian waffle", (the Brussels one), I have to make one more remark: in Belgium, these waffles are never round. Eggo's are round. Brussels waffles are rectangular. I doubt this makes a great difference in the flavor, but I just thought I'ld point it out.

How is that for a lot of grandstanding from somebody who has never actually MADE waffles herself, be they Brussels, Liege, or otherwise. That is about to end though. In preparation for the Belgian national holiday (July 21st), I bought a waffle iron. I did have to chose a round one. The square ones I found were cheap, quite often not deep enough and did not flip. Instead of relying on a mix, or a recipe that I found online, I went straight to the source: my mother. And she went straight to her source: "Ons Kookboek" .

7 waffle recipes in this one basic cookbook alone.

This cooking book, originally brought out by de "Boerinnenboned" (Farmerswives guild), is considered the mother of all Flemish cooking books. The very first version dates from 1927 and since then it has been sold two and a half million times in it's four updates. Not bad if you realize that the entire current Flemish population is less than 6 million people. It has been bought by generations of people and was one of the most traditional wedding gifts. My mother too got hers (the 1975 edition) as a wedding gift. And while she now mostly cooks without a recipe, for something rarely made she still consults it I believe.

So stay tuned for my first attempt at waffle making. And if they are succesfull I can tell everyone: Now these are REAL Belgian waffles. Except for the shape. But well... who cares about the shape, as long as they turn out delicious!

Award

2011-07-13T20:07:00.002-07:00

Oh my... I got an award! Thank you, Matrushka Anna! Believe it or not, but just the other day I was actually wondering about this little blog, and whether or not I actually made a difference sending my words and simple pondering into the vastness of cyberspace. I will think over some blogs that I want to bless with this wonderful token!

I love being the lone Catholic in your sidebar, and I am so grateful for your kind words. Bless your heart, Matrushka, for an encouragement at just the right moment.

Handmade

2011-07-13T18:49:00.000-07:00

My oldest son on the day we moved into our new house,

taking that nap that mommy was praying for.

I love handmade gifts. Love... love.. LOVE them.

Looking back, I do not come from a family where handmade or homemade was a byword. My mother cooked mostly from scratch, but I can not remember any kitchen based gifts from her hands, despite the fact that she was a very good cook. On old pictures I see her crocheting or knitting like crazy, but I rarely remember her with a needlework in progress while I was a child, except for one memorable sweater she made for me out of a teenage magazine. That sweater transcends the ages. It is so eighties that recently it became fashionable again! I don't remember anyone else giving handmade gifts either. For some reason, it just wasn't something that was 'done' in those days.

We did get 'needlework' at school, but I was clumsy and the materials we had to work with were so uninspiring. I remember a horrific pillow and a bag out of rather coarse material and a color that honestly reminded me of garbage bags.

The one reminder of my school needlework, and probably the prettiest: my first year sampler.

My first connection with handmade gifts came through my embroidery. Over the years I started to acquire some skill, even though it is still VERY limited compared to some. And I started to give some things as gifts. To my surprise at the time, people seemed really pleased. I started to see something that had just been a personal hobby as a way to actually create things FOR people. Now I am the cobblers wife with holes in her shoes, so to speak. Twenty years of embroidery, and there are only two embroidered objects in my own house: the sampler I made as a child in school and the partially embroidered baptism stole for my youngest son. I love to make things for people. I love to think about them as I stitch. And I love to imagine how blessed they will feel.

That blessing was brought home to me again a few days ago, because of the blessings others have bestowed on me. My little boy came out of bed and wanted to hold on to a bunny. That bunny had been knitted for him, before he was even born, by a wonderful friend in England.

Michael with the little bunny. He got very attached to it after we started to read
"Pat the Bunny"

That same evening, I snuggled up under a queen sized summer quilt. That quilt was made for me by an American friend when I moved into my first tiny studio apartment by myself while still living in Belgium. I remember when it arrived, at my workplace, with all my colleagues oohing and aahing over it. I really wish I had a picture here, because it is beautiful. She made it in colours that would fit with the interior I had chosen for my first little domain.

When my oldest was born, my English friend made this little baby quilt for me. And another little quilt was made by a friend of my mother in law that I have never even met. For my second son, my mother made the cutest little white knitted coat, to which she added Peter Rabbit buttons that I found.

This jacket is so much more adorable in reality than it shows here on the picture.

More and more I find little items in my house that are the work of loving hands. I am always reminded of a quote from Little Women, about Meg: "So she made her wedding gown herself, sewing into it the tender hopes and innocent romances of a girlish heart." When you make something yourself, you give more than the gift itself, you give of yourself, your time, your hopes and wishes for that person... all somehow end up in that gift. And years later, just seeing those items (because they quite often last longer than store bought too) will make you smile. Like that quilt that was made for a little apartment in Antwerp, that was brought with a new bride to the United States, that covered her when she was pregnant with her second child and could not find comfort in a bed, so she ended up on a half inflated air mattress, and that now graces the bed in the heat of summer when the usual duvet is tucked safely away. That quilt is a story.. and a friendship in itself.

Three handmade gifts in one picture:
the pillow on which the boys rest, as well as the purple quilt from which you catch only a glimpse were gifts from my English friend Lesley, the animal quilt on top is a gift from a friend of my mother in law.

The bunny knitted for my second son, the little quilt on which he took a nap during our moving day into our new house, all of these memories become precious, and even more so because they are physically tied in with the love and blessings that friends and family members are.
Oh yes, I love handmade gifts, because they are touchable reminders of the love that surrounds us during our every day life.

Retreat

2011-07-12T19:06:00.000-07:00

So, one more post about the retreat. I hope you are not yet tired. It was for me an amazing and affirming experience.
After arriving at the Oratory at Rock Hill and some confusion with one car with the luggage missing, we all settled nicely back in our little retreat house. I say little, but it honestly was not so little. A nice big kitchen, dining room, living room, two bathrooms and 6 bedrooms, plus a sleeping attic. We started with dinner. A simple pasta with jarred sauce and a fresh salad.
After that, we handed out our jars. They turned out to be a huge hit, as well as a conversation opener. After that, I read "The Love Story of God and Man" to them, to get them situated with their bibles. Then we started our first evening off with a bible study about Loving God, what love means, what God means when he talks of love and so on. All went, not just smoothly, but.. peacefully and unexpectedly deep. I was touched by the willingness of our teenagers to be vulnerable before each other as they contemplated scripture.
Then we played "Jesus hide and seek". Which is just plain hide and seek with the one searching designated as Jesus and us as disciples who are supposed to follow but hide from Him and the truth instead. There were surprisingly many hiding places and we had great fun.
Board games came after and then the evening was ended with an unplanned rosary. I asked if anyone wanted to join into my evening rosary, and.. they all wanted to! It was slightly funny at times, as well as touching, because well, I am used to recite the rosary in Dutch. Now I was supposed to lead it in English. Of course I know the prayers in English, but the.. rhythm so to speak isn't there. So a few times they had to help me out. We went to bed glaringly late, past one am.

The next morning started with showers, breakfast (elaborate and made by us: biscuits, eggs, cereal, fruit), discipleship activities and a workshop on how we tend to put God in a box. Then there was mass, lunch, a water balloon fight, free time and a second workshop about prayer, devotions and traditions. This one was a bit harder as everyone was getting pretty sleepy. After that there was some more free time and dinner. I made chili. The students helped chopping, setting the table etc. Then they went on for some more discipleship activities before dinner. After dinner there was a board game battle, and we went to bed... slightly earlier.

On the third day we had a breakfast again, cleaned out our retreat cottage, had a third workshop about choices that need to be made to lead a truly catholic life, and about the steps they want and need to take. This one was a great success. After that we had mass one more time, lunch with two of the oratory priests and we ended the retreat with a 'web of compliments'.

I know it sounds probably like a boring enumeration of what we did, but the beauty of it were the conversations, the searching, the choice of the students, the quiet and the boldness. We already had several requests to please do it again! I enjoyed it. I felt spiritually renewed. But I was also very glad to be back with my boys again.

Catholic Retreat

2011-07-11T20:06:00.001-07:00

To round off my first year as a youth minister at our church, our greatest challenge loomed: "The retreat". We have always spoken of doing this. We always wanted to do this. We had worked on doing this.. but a few months ago it became clear that we were actually -oh help, what did I get myself into?- going to do this.
It's one thing to fund raise or attend a magnificent, everything organized, retreat from the diocesan. It is another to organize a complete retreat yourself. My colleague Anne and I took up the challenge and I must say, our expectations were exceeded. We have already had requests to definitely do this again. And we managed to pack so much in just a few days.

The retreat lasted from Tuesday afternoon till Thursday afternoon and was intended for our 'core group'; the teenagers who would always attend and are ready to grow into faith leadership positions themselves.

Our retreat started at 5 pm on Tuesday when we picked up our five students (T, M, N, E, and V.) Anne and I are the responsible Youth Ministers and Joseph and Emily are our wonderful helpers, university students with a passion for following Christ. That was the theme of our retreat "Follow Me", which was also the ending of our youth ministry video that we made for the kick off of our first year. I like to think that this retreat was the culmination of that first year. More about what we actually did on the retreat later, but here is the video to start with. Be sure to put the sound on!

Pint sized Theology

2011-07-11T18:12:00.000-07:00

My husband's facebook update from last sunday:

"Spent most of mass listening to Joseph's long, convoluted argument about how Jesus could be in the tabernacle and in the bread and wine* at the same time. The short version is that it apparently involves Fr. Lehocky pushing a button on the tabernacle so that Jesus can fly around the church and land in the bread and wine."

Those moments make parenting worth while. (And I needed that moment, because prior to the sweet explanation to my husband, I had had to take Joseph out of the church twice for time out due to willful bad behaviour, including hitting mommy.)
But this story made me happy. While yes, it is not theologically or physically correct, it does my heart good that the visits we make to a church for five minutes of adoration and explanation do make a difference. A few weeks ago Joseph proclaimed at the moment of consecration that this was when Jesus came out of his little heart and into the bread and wine.
I whisper to him during mass (when I get to sit through mass with him that is and do not need to remove myself with a baby to the nursery) and explain to him what is going on. "This is a letter from Paul that they are reading. He was a friend of Jesus. Do you know what he is telling us? He is telling us that we need to be very good, with our words and with our bodies. Like your arms. They are not for hitting, but for hugging." I paraphrase whatever is being read on the fly so it is understandable for him. I try to put tiny little faith lessons throughout our days. And explanations like that make it clear that those lessons churn around in Joseph's mind.

Our anniversary: of nerdyness, practicality and beauty

2011-07-11T13:35:00.001-07:00

Oh yes, it is all quiet in the house. And I am taking advantage by writing up a few posts for this poor blog. Ah, I know I have neglected you, but with the retreat coming up as well as my anniversary, I just have barely been near my computer.

I could start about the retreat, which was fabulous and deserves it's own post, but instead, I will start with the most important; my husband. My wonderful husband and I celebrated our fifth anniversary. This makes us mere newlyweds compared to some, but it is never the less a big milestone. It's our first 'big number' anniversary. Halfway towards the double digits. I have told you before about how I came to marry that wonderful man. And about our wedding. It should be pretty clear that I adore my husband.
Now do not get me wrong, my husband is a man with flaws (though honestly, I think he does not have that many). And sometimes I am uspet at things he does. Usually though, if I think about it for longer than five minutes, I usually find much worse things that I have done, which makes it less worth quarreling over. If something bothers me long term, I try to talk it out at a happy moment in a non accusatory tone. "Hey, I was just thinking the other day how much easier it would be if we would...." seems much more productive than "Why do you always leave your pants on the floor?" Especially as .. ahum... I sometimes too leave things on the floor that do not belong there. Like pieces of clothing. However I never do this when I am cleaning up. Putting your own laundry in the basket seems natural, even if it is laundry that should have been in there two days ago. Putting someone else's laundry in there seems like an injust chore, a deliberate inconvenience. Sounds like a sinful and self centered perspective to me.
My biggest challenge in my marriage (and especially in motherhood) is to develop a servant's heart. It is my bullet prayer throughout the day when I am feeling overwhelmed: God create in me a servant's heart.
But despite all that: my husband LOVES me. And I LOVE him. For our anniversary I bought him a Jedi bathrobe. The perfect combination of nerdy and practical.

He has been wearing it a lot and claims it is really comfy! In return, he gave me the Pentateuch volume of the St. John's bible. This gift is nerdy and beautiful. Proof that by now we know one another well. I love the St. John's bible. This is the first handwritten bible since the invention of the printing press. It is pretty expensive, so I am acquiring it one volume at a time. So far I have the gospels and acts, the psalms and now the Pentateuch.

The beauty of this handwritten bible is that, because of the smaller size and the handwritten text (photographed handwritten text of course), it invites you to slow down in your reading and savour the Lord's word, even if- with small children- you only get to do so in small doses.

We celebrated our anniversary with Bill's parents and the children. Then in the evening we went out for a simple meal, a walk along the beach and ended up talking a few minutes under the moon while sitting on a porch swing. The group of teenagers sitting in and around the porch swing next to ours made the moment not less romantic.
Five years. Not nearly long enough. I was so happy to read that Matrushka Anna celebrated her wedding anniversary (fourteen, much further along the path of wisdom than I am) just a few days ago. Her fourteen lessons are a word to the wise! I found myself nodding my head at each one of them. Number three is my particular challenge. There is that 'servant's heart' again.
I hope that as the years go, I will grow in wisdom, in wifeliness (the spellchecker claims this is not a word, but it should be), in patience, in sacrificial love, and in willingness to serve. I hope our love will grow stronger and deeper. After all, I felt as if my heart was ready to burst with love on my wedding day. Five years later, it has only expanded.

Back

2011-07-09T19:33:00.001-07:00

I am back from work and vacation, and oh my has it been great. The retreat was absolutely amazing. God really smiled upon us. (more about what we did in a later post). The retreat was sandwiched in between the fourth of July holiday and our anniversary, both of which were celebrated at Hilton Head.
I hope to find time to blog more tomorrow, but just wanted to let you know already what an amazing time we have had.
I can hardly believe that I now am married more than five years. We're not newlyweds anymore. But I still feel like one. No, I take that back.. I feel better than I did as a newlywed. I loved my husband then, but I love him even more now. I feel more at ease as a wife and a mother, and while parenthood is without a doubt harder than anything else, it also has made us grow so much as a couple.
But more tomorrow. Oh, before I forget, my apologies to Mary. I missed your comment on my whitework finish earlier. I answered your question about the pen. I hope you will like it as much as I do.

Be loved and blessed everyone!

A gruesome discovery....

2011-07-01T20:48:00.001-07:00

I feel I must point out that what you see laying next to St. Joseph is a Wii lightsaber. Coincidence? I think not.

Catholicisity

2011-07-01T11:47:00.000-07:00

Okay.. that is not a word. But when my friend Anne and I were preparing for the retreat that will take place next week for our core group of teenagers, we decided that we wanted all of them to have a ... hope chest... or set out for lack of a better word, of Catholic items. It is rare for young people these days to be as surrounded by visual reminders of their faith as they once would have been.
My husband is doing an exercise program and as part of it, he takes these protein supplement shakes. I saved up the huge red jars and over the last weeks we gathered things to put in them. Yesterday we started filling the jars and both of us were happy by this wonderful display of Catholicisity that we had to snap a few pictures.

We wanted a mixture of fun and useful things. You can see some scripture candy (lollipops and mints), the bible (each one of the participants will get their own bible to start using on the retreat and take home afterwards to continue using), some notepads, rosaries (black for the young men, white for the young women), a leaflet on the chaplet of the Divine mercy, and some wooden tokens.

We found some little prayer books to help in asking the Saints to join us in prayer before Jesus' throne. One for male, one for female saints. And for each participant there is also a pen with a scripture verse, and a leaflet about the rosary, as well as one on how to form your conscience. Working with teenagers that are standing before many important choices and decisions, we found that one very important to include.

Some sticky notes to start using in that bible, and some lovely, traditional catholic stationery. We are also going to ask the students to send a postcard to next year's confirmation students, to show them that the Body of Christ is already praying for them. The blue cloth that you see underneath it all is being transformed into a bible cover for each student. While on the retreat we will encourage them to write some of their favorite verses on it in gold marker. The idea is to "walk the stiffness out of that bible" the way you do with new shoes, so it will be something they will reach for much easier once they are at home.

And I had to include this last shot, because well.. it says it all. My vocation is first and foremost to be a mom. I work for the Church ten hours a week. Most of my work however is spend at home when the children are napping or sleeping. And when we have a meeting, most of the times, I take the children with me. We have our meeting in the church nursery, so the children can play. Half the time, the meeting ends with both me and my colleague on the floor playing with the children. My boys love her. Thank you "Miss Anne", for making it so wonderfully easy to be a mother first!

Pint sized Theology

2011-07-01T05:54:00.000-07:00

There are days when I worry about my children's religious education. Especially at mass. Or when a toddler, confronted with a plate of food that might not be his favorite, tells us to "stop doing that" while we are praying before dinner. There are other days that I marvel at his faith.
Last week, after I had to take my 16 month old out of mass (we made it throughout the readings, the gospel and partway into the homily), my three and a half year old stayed inside with daddy. Afterwards my husband shared the following with me:
"It was so cute. When Father lifted the host for the consecration, Joseph said: "Now Jesus needs to come out of my heart and go in there!"
Isn't it wonderful? Oh sure, there are theological questions, and God can be everywhere at the same time. But the fact that my whispered explanations during mass sink in on some level, the fact that God is working on him, and making Himself known to my little boy in whatever way he can understand is breathtaking.

Evening rituals

2011-06-29T19:42:00.000-07:00

Our children sleep pretty long in the morning. They usually let us sleep till 8 am. We are often envied of this fact by parents. Parents whose children usually are IN bed by 8 pm. Not ours. 9 pm to 9.45 pm is when the children are all in bed and mommy and daddy have time alone. This has disadvantages. Our wind down and time for ourselves in the evenings is of course limited. On the plus side, we do have a good night's sleep and the children get to spend time with dada. As my husband comes home at 6.30 pm, we try to maximize the time he can spend with the children. That means eating at 7.30, and then there is playtime, some days bath time, a bit of television. And then there is the evening ritual itsself.
Joseph gets to chose who puts him to bed. This is invariably dada. While my wonderful husband goes upstairs for tooth brushing, stories, and cuddles, I watch a little video with Michael on my lap, then move from the living room to the playroom where my rocking chair waits. We read three books, and then I go upstairs while singing the bedtime song. Once in the room he gets a stuffed animal to hold, and then snuggled down on the bed. I back out of the room blowing kisses and saying "I love you's".

But that does not conclude the evening rituals. I then go into Joseph's bedroom for my favorite time of the night: our nighttime talk. He asks for it every night, ever so serious and ever so sweet: "Mommy can you come and talk with me for a few minutes?" And then we talk, about the day. About what we have done. Some pint sized theology, some reflections on what was not so good, about what was so good, and always, always lots of hugs, cuddles, nosy nose, and "I love you."
While I am usually very tired at this time, and also longing to just sit and do something for myself, it is also part of my favorite time of the day. I let go of all tensions, and just.. enjoy this little boy that does not want anything at that moment except for my love and my attention.

It has been hard these last two evenings when that time of quiet bonding with my oldest has been interrupted by my youngest protesting bedtime. I believe in comforting a child who has a nightmare, a toothache, or a sudden longing for mommy. I also believe in developing good sleeping habits. When I have assured myself that Michael is perfectly fine and just crying because the world is so interesting he does not want to go to sleep, I need to force myself not to do what I want (pick him up and stop him thus from crying) and let him learn how to sooth himself to sleep. It's not that I am not willing to share my bed, or my time (though I admit, at 10 pm, my patience with all the needs wears thin), but it would be selfish to give him whatever he wants, because I do not want to listen to him cry. However the stress spoils this most beautiful moment of the day and long after Michael is done crying, the tension still lingers in me.

I hope and pray that tomorrow will be better. I so enjoy my evening routines. My cuddle time with the boys, listening to Joseph go over his entire day, finding the words to speak of what is inside him, hearing how he thinks about things and starts to reason and sort out what is in his mind.. and his heart.

Ice cream

2011-06-27T17:07:00.000-07:00

Since the floors had just been completely cleaned, I call this series of pictures "asking for trouble"...

Celebrating

2011-06-27T13:29:00.000-07:00

I love holidays and feast days. What can I say? I am a Catholic. We thrive on celebrations. And on guilt. Maybe that is why we celebrate so much. Because of the guilt. It keeps things in balance. And the guilt is probably because Catholicism is rooted in such a long intellectual tradition. Which makes introspection a great part of your duty, inspiring such pamphlets as "how to form your conscience". Because just having a conscience or listening to your conscience is not enough. After all, as my three year old toddler just demonstrated by shoving his brother because he was angry with me, and not being nearly remorseful enough afterwards, an unformed conscience let's you get away with sins quite easily. A formed conscience however will point out your faults rather glaringly. Hence the guilt. And hence the love for celebrations. Balance after all, is divine. Did I mention I am really bad at Theology?

My love for celebrations is found in the fact that I love to find any occasion to celebrate. Catholic Icing, A shower of Roses, and Catholic Cuisine have been very helpful in that respect, and I can only thank Mother Church for reminding us how many things we have to celebrate in Jesus' love for us! I have a far road ahead of me before I am as creative as these wonderful ladies of course, but I dare to throw in an Saint's day here, and a Holy Day there, just to break the long line between my birthday in march and my son's birthday in September.
But with all that, you can imagine how much I LOVE the big holidays. Birthdays, Saint's days, anniversaries, Easter, Christmas. And I start thinking about them long before. How can we make them holy? How can we make them fun? Last year we started creating our own Christmas traditions, adapting them to our own family. With two small children and no family nearby we forwent the traditional formal Christmas dinner and spread out the blanket in front of the fireplace for a Christmas eve picnic with all of our favorite foods, from pizza rolls, over string cheese, to chips and sushi. It was great and a lesson learned for me: adapt and enjoy.

The next big celebration for us is Joseph's fourth birthday. His current obsession is marble runs. For the last months he has been talking about nothing else. Instead of his usual television programs (Sesame Street, Thomas the Tank Engine, etc) He wants to watch Youtube videos of marble runs and marble machines. And of course he really, really, REALLY wants a marble run of his own. We told him he had to wait till his birthday. This is still two and a half months away, and he has been asking for one for months. It's not an expensive toy, but we want him to learn he can not have everything he wants just by asking for it. He is counting down however, first to his visit with Mimi (his grandmother) in just six days. Then to his birthday in September. As he is counting down, I am starting my mental preparations. Anticipation is half the fun (and half the work, if you have already figured out what you want by the time you have to start buying and preparing).
The marble run is a given. He will have waited five months for it, so he deserves it. But what about the cake? After Last year's semi home made success, I really want something special again. Guess what I found online???

What do you think? Can I do it?????

2011-06-25T05:37:00.000-07:00

My 85 year old grandmother showing her youthful side.

Happy, pretty, funny, real

2011-06-24T13:52:00.001-07:00

This picture is not the prettiest, but during my month long break from the internet while I was on vacation in Belgium, I managed to make a tablerunner and 6 napkins decorated with "random roses" a design with randomly strewn embroidered bullion roses. Which turned out to be very pretty.

Happy: Michael is finally getting better. At 16 months he is in the midst of frustrated toddler territory, but he is not screaming all days anymore. And he is getting some very happy times with his brother's trains.

We have a quilt in our living room that kept being pulled off the table where it lay, nicely folded and decoratively, to be used as comforter, cuddle blanket, car.. anything they could think of. In the end I capitulated and bought a big basket in which it can be thrown. Guess who thought the basket was pretty cool too?

What happens when the older brother leaves an ice cream behind where the younger brother can get it?

Hmmmm

2011-06-23T13:43:00.000-07:00

As you can see I have been playing with the design of my blog a bit. Unfortunately, I am not really satisfied. I will try again later to do a better job of it. Does anyone know how I can change the white background for the text? It is so... glaring.

Memories

2011-06-22T19:37:00.001-07:00

This playground was on the grounds of an old castle. The castle is long gone, but the stable building now houses the theatre where I have been a student and castmember for so many years. Another part of the grounds has a fun playground and these old, stone lions from a long ago impressive drive way are guarding it.

Visit to Belgium: the fun stuff!

2011-06-18T12:23:00.000-07:00

Okay.. so we are 'accursed' travellers. But our stay in Belgium itsself was really wonderful. The height of joy, for me, was the Efteling.
I love this place, and so do my boys. Last year was the first time that a wonderful friend of mine who lives in the Netherlands, and I combined our families for the trip, and it was a huge success. This year we went together again, and added two more friends, one who is my son's Godfather. We had a group of 7 adults and three children and the most amazing weather.
We started our visit with a lovely picnic. You can buy food there, with prices ranging from VERY reasonable, to quite expensive if you want a medieval four course meal. But picnicking is encouraged as well. Do you notice how beautifully green that picnic meadow is?

After that, there were so many things to do: rides, like the beautiful dreamflight, where you fly amidst fairies and trolls, the funny carnival ride which resembles 'it's a small world' in Disney World a lot, the spinning cooking pots, the beautiful antique carrousel's, the train diorama's and so much more.

But the heart of the Efteling, and among the oldest parts of it, is the fairytale forest. Based on Grimm, Andersen and Folklore and originally designed by artist Rein Portvliet, this place takes you away to a land where children's fantasy reigns.

You can just see the wide eyed wonder in the eyes of my boys as they discover the gnomes, Giant Long Neck, the candy house in the Hansl and Gretl fairytale.

After the fairytale forest and tired of a day of walking around, we enjoyed a beautiful boatride on the tones of classic music: twenty minutes amidst a lovely lake, with flowers, ducks, and beautiful landscapes, where you think yourself more in a pleasure garden than an amusement park. As a last treat for Joseph, we took the oldfashioned steamtrain to ride one more time around the park. Then, the boys got to play for a few more minutes in an oldfashioned play ground (all that, and then in little nooks and corners, they still have room for some sand and oldfashioned slides and swings, and parent powered little turning things.

We had such a wonderful, wonderful day, and so many more wonderful pictures. Can you see how sunny it was? And how lush the green? Oh, I can't wait till we go back next year!

Visit to Belgium (part 1: why we should carry a rattle when travelling)

2011-06-16T19:22:00.000-07:00

I promised earlier that I would write more about our visit to Belgium. There is so much to tell. I could spend a whole post on our journey. As always (we should carry rattles and cry out 'unclean' so people can hastily try and change their flights if they see us coming, there were some troubles. The first one only affected us. After my husband and I had to switch seats because the baby had to sit on the side of the plane with two seats, because of a pressure mask issue in case of an emergency, I forgot that I had unloaded some stuff already in the seatpocket. Of course after we had moved seats and trying to shepherd two children and enough carry on lugage to survive a European trip out of the small plane that brought us to Chicago, I forgot about the little pouch I had put in the seatpocket of my previous chair. And Bill, knowing he had not put anything in there, didn't check.

So in Chicao, I realized I was missing a pouch which contained two lipsticks, one mascara, some desinfecting wipes and.. my car keys, housekeys and keys to our church. Ouch. Especially the first. Because well.. how would we get BACK after our journey? And to top things off, this was one of those fancy smart keys that don't look like a key but cost over a hundred dollars to reproduce. Ouch.

Well, it was in a seatpocket. Clearly it would be found when they cleaned the plane, right? I mean, a three zippered, zebra striped fabric pouch would attract some notice, right? Up to our next flight. Which was delayed. Not that much. Just half an hour. We managed to keep the children calm and happy and preboarded. (Never preboard with children if you can avoid it. It just makes them sit strapped in longer. We only did it because we had to board with a car seat which makes it harder to get through if the plane is full.
Unfortunately after we had boarded and then everybody else had boarded... we did not move. We did not move for TWO HOURS, with strapped up children and not allowed to use electronics. First there was a storm over head, then the storm moved ahead to our prospective route, so we had to start in another direction to go around it, but of course we had to wait to get in line for taking off. This all added two hours to a 7 hour journey in a small metal tube with two children under four that were not allowed out of their seats.
Luckily they were pretty good travellers. They even slept for a few hours. No problems with passport controle or customs and we even got a number to call to the airlines lost and found in chicago. My mother waited for us and all seemed to be okay.

Seemed. We called lost and found and of course did not get to speak to a real person. There is an answering machine where you can record your lost item and they will call you back if they find it. So, don't call us, we'll call you. Maybe.
Despite fervent prayers to St. Anthony, no reply call or email. We try again a few days later. No reply, no phonecall, no email.
We need to find solution. Because without the key, we can not get home. It is a one and a half hour drive from the airport to our house. Since we have the security code of the key we hope a local toyota dealer might be able to replicate it for us. No luck. They can apparently only replicate the key, if they also have the car! We have a spare key of course, but that is in our house.
We are trying to think of solutions. A motelroom for me and the kids while Bill takes the shuttle home after a 24 hour journey and then turns around to pick us up the next day just does not sound doable. All four of us on the shuttle home would add another 200 dollars to the expense.
I get an epihphany! The mail! We are here for a full month. We will mail our housekeys (my husband's set, mine are gone with the pouch) to our neighbours. They will go in our house (and unfortunately witness the total chaos in there) get our carkey and mail it back to us. It sounds like a good plan. The neighbours are contacted, willing and able so our housekeys go in the mail. And take a detour apparently, because they appear at the neighbours house so late, it's just not safe anymore to mail something back, not even express! Especially since some tickets a friend of us has send us in the mail have completely dissapeared in the mean time. So now our neighbours have the keys, but how to get them in our hands by the time we arrive? We contemplate for a moment having them send to an airline representative on the airport but by now we are terrified of the mail messing one more thing up and then we would have NO more car key.

God be praised for great friends. After some searching around (since I can't use it in Belgium, I didn't bring my cellphone, which has all those easy contacts at hand that you would love to have with you in such cases), I find the number of my friend and fellow Youth Minister Anne. She is immediately prepared to drive up to Charlotte for an hour and a half to bring us the keys on the journey back. After a few more contacting issues, everything works out.

Our journey back is only marred by a child (not ours) screaming almost continuously (remember, this is over 8 hours of flying on that first flight back). We try to be patient and remember: there but by the grace of God go I. Another passenger is not thinking those thoughts though, and shoots off his chair, stomps over and demands of the mother who is cradling a baby in her lap, in a shout that she does something to keep the kid quiet. At that time, the father (didn't realize he was travelling with them too, but he was sitting in a seat a row further with a third child) shot up too, and the two men look ready to do battle. Air hostesses quickly descend upon the scene but for a minute, I sit transfixed and fear this plane is going to have to make an emergency landing due to out of control passengers.

The rest of our journey was actually uneventful. Next time though, I am bringing that Rattle. In comparison of some of our earlier journeys however, this one was actually.. tame. Somewhat.

My engagement story

2011-06-13T13:54:00.000-07:00

More stories of our stay in Belgium to come, and definitely more Efteling pictures. But when Mrs. Beguiles throws out a challenge, you know I can hardly resist. And this time she asks us about our engagement story. Oh, and do I have a sweet one to share. Okay, so I might be just the tiniest bit biassed, but judge for yourself!

The evening after we were engaged. Oh my, I was so slim.

As a few of you may already know, my husband and I actually met online on CatholicMatch.com. Because of the distance, we started our relationship with the proposition of just being friends. In the back of my mind, I had the idea that if God wanted us to be together, he would remove obstacles and make it clear.
Several obstacles were removed, including a serendipituous, but independent confirmation that I was not having hopeful conversations with some crazy ax murderer. (That story maybe another time).
Anyhow, the relationship progressed... online.. on the phone. And then finally we met in person. He came to visit me. Then I came to visit him. Each time for a period of only ten days or so. Despite that we had grown so close, had so many values, and goals and other things in common and we felt ourselves falling in love. Sliding into it is perhaps even a better word. We both prayed about it and before we knew it we were talking about the possibility of marriage.

Both of us were members of an online forum for catholics, which was good, because we could also see how the other acted in groups, and reacted to others. Somehow the topic there became engagements and engagement rings and diamonds and how expensive they were. I mentioned offhandedly that I personally didn't see the need for a diamond in an engagement ring. I would much prefer something else, like a saphire.
Bill came back to that in a pm (private message, this was in the days before facebook had exploded to it's current popularity) and asked if I was really serious about that no diamond thing, just in case.. when the day came.... I swallowed. This was getting very, very real. And I assured him I was perfectly serious.

Okay, so I am spoiling the story a bit, but... here is my engagement ring.

A few months later, Bill travelled on the afternoon of Christmas day (you know a man loves you when he is prepared to travel to you on Christmas day), all the way to Belgium to arrive there on the 26th. To avoid jetlag, I decided to try and keep him as busy as possible so he would not fall asleep halfway through the day. We ate something at my mothers house. He stayed there during the visits, while I just went home to my own little apartment a few streets further at night. We talked a bit. And we exchanged christmas presents from him, me, our parents, and so on. In the afternoon, I suggested a walk. Since we needed a destination I decided on the Cathedral: it's not far, it was a pivotal place for my faith, and it's always something interesting to see and do on a day when most museums shops are closed. He thought that was an excellent idea.

So off to the cathedral we went. It was still beautiful decorated with evergreen trees inside for Christmas. We wandered around a little bit and Bill remarked that there were more tourists than he had expected. There were. Mostly probably because almost everything else is closed on that day. We made our way around and ended up in the St. Joseph's chapel. St. Joseph was the Saint I had chosen to ask for his intercession to find me a good husband, shortly after which I had met Bill online. (Note to self: when you can't get something done on your own, remember to PRAY, silly!)
In this chapel, I had done a lot of my praying! And it was here that Bill settled on a chair next to mine and told me that there was one more gift he wanted for the new year: he wanted me to become his wife. I remember looking at him. I remember being aware that there were people approaching the chapel. And I remember asking him: "Are you sure that I will make you a good wife?" He was sure. I accepted. And then he opened a little white jewelers box, which had a ring in it, so much bigger than I had ever imagined, with the most magnificent saphire I had ever seen. The box had a silly little light that went on as you opened it, which made us laugh and broke the tension.
We hugged. We kissed (rather chastely, we were very aware of where we were.). And we thanked St. Joseph for his intercession.
After that, we went to spend a few minutes in adoration at the tabernacle. I never asked what Bill prayed for but my prayers were a mixture of gratitude and requests for strength to be a good wife and a good mother. Getting married was such a marvelous and awe insipring step.

I was nervous.. I was giddy. And after adoration, we wanted to keep the news to ourselves for a little bit. I remember going out of the cathedral hand in hand and looking at some of the personel there. Many of them were acquaintances, since I gave confirmation class in this parish, and just was there a lot. I remember smiling at them and greeting them and thinking... I have a secret. I have a secret. I felt like a little girl that wanted to skip and hop.

We went for a little more of a walk to a nearby fry shop. Instead of a fancy dinner, we had fries with mayonaise and mystery type meat. We held hands, we talked about the future, about marriage, about practical arrangements (we needed to plan a wedding that would unite two continents!) and I just gazed at him and felt so.. utterly and completely happy.

We lingered over the fries, then went to my mother's home. When we entered the house everything was quiet and I realized she was taking a nap. At that moment, my phone rang and my very best friend in the whole world was there. Her first question was the very usual; "How are you?" and for once I just couldn't reply with the customary "fine, how are you?" because I was afraid to bounce off the walls with excitement. So I whispered into the phone: "I can't talk right now. Need to talk to my mom first. But Mary -obviously, that's here name- I am wearing a RING!"
We quickly agreed that she would come by that evening to get the scope and hear everything.
After my mom woke up I talked to her, she was excited. We cried a little bit. We laughed. We hugged. The same process repeated itsself later with Maria. Then we told Bill's parents the official news on the phone later.

Close up!

Of course both of our parents had known before me that Bill would propose during this stay. I had sort of expected it to happen either this visit, or in march.. but definitely not at that moment. I loved the fact that he proposed so privately. He didn't go down on one knee because there were so many tourists around, which otherwise he would have done, and I appreciated his discretion. I don't mind being the center of attention, but that moment was for us, and for God. I loved that he had heard me when I mentioned preferring a saphire engagement ring. I loved that we spend time in prayer, and time eating fries.
And I am eternally grateful to St. Joseph for guiding us and bringing us together. We are almost at our fifth anniversary and no matter how much I loved him in that moment, I love him so much more now.

(we used this as our picture for the engagement announcement, though obviously, it is taken in summer, not at the moment that we became engaged, or I would be freezing.)

Quick pictures

2011-06-13T13:27:00.000-07:00

We had some problems during our journey to Belgium, and the weather was not as hot as I had hoped during our month of stay, but when it counted most, we had good weather. Most pictures still need to be added to this computer, but I can give you a few glimpses. These pictures are from our visit to the Efteling. Like last year, this was the most wonderful, spectacular day of our entire visit. I love this place, a fairytale park, older I believe than Disney World or Disney land, and in my opinion with much more charm. I have pictures of me when I was about 5 there. My husband and I went there on our first date (I wanted a place where we could talkon one hand, but where there was a lot to do in case we felt ackward as well.) And we went there for a day on our honeymoon.

Here is a picture of our little family there, minus Michael who was sleeping in a stroller at that point.

Secondly, this adorable little girl is the daughter of a friend of mine from the Netherlands (where the Efteling is). Since we are so far away, we only get to see eachother once a year, even though we keep in daily contact through facebook. Since last year, we have made the Efteling our meeting place, which is perfect for children and husbands and us: we can talk, marvel, and have a good time. Oh, and btw, did you notice my hairpin? I nearly jumped when I found it in an Antwerp shop. I love hair accessories, especially the one that do not look as if they were designed for a five year old.

Here is another little glimpse of the hairpin. I wish I would have a better shot of it.

Back home

2011-06-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

We arrived back home the day before yesterday, after a journey of almost 24 hours: car for over an hour, then a plane for about 9 hours, layover, then another plane for about 2 hours and then finally a last car ride of almost two hours. Add a time difference of about 6 hours.. and everyone was all zoned out.
We are trying to get back in a rhythm, and I hope to find some writing time soon, because there is much to tell.

From Belgium, with love

2011-05-26T06:59:00.000-07:00

I am back in the motherland for a vacation. My husband, two boys and I are staying at 'Ama's house', Ama being the name my oldest son gave my mother when Oma was still a bit too difficult. She likes the unique feel of it and has always remained Ama. His other grandmother is 'Mimi'. Again a unique name. I am more of a traditionalist myself and would have gone for the traditional oma and granma or gran, but who am I to insist on that when both Ama and Mimi are absolutely delighted.
Back in Belgium I am for now. While the weather has not been so kind, we have visited parks and wandered around the streets, seen the cathedral and the river and spend times on the tram as well as gazing at the trains on magnificent Antwerp, central Station.
I have so far kept myself from wonderful Belgian pralines, but succumbed to way too many fries, and a box of commercial chocolates. I am determined though to weigh a little bit less in two weeks when I return home than I weigh now. Living in South Carolina can sometimes give you a false image of what normal weight is. We are in the top five I believe, of the most obese states in the US, which is the most obese country in the developed world.
I remember when I arrived in the USA that I was shocked to see so many people THAT overweight. I was never a size zero, but I was slender and fit. Five years of driving everywhere by car and have too much food too easily available, combined with stress and children have done a number not just on my weight, but more importantly on my perception. Grabbing a cookie from the pantry is perfectly normal. Grabbing five cookies because you have not had luch, and emptying the sleeve later on is not. Not taking care of yourself because others take even less care is wrong. It's like boiling frogs, you adjust and adjust... without noticing and then all of a sudden you have gained twenty pounds and are wearing your maternity jeans 6 months aftr giving birth.

Things need to change. I do not have the time or the mental energy to do a complete haul over fitness program, but I need to start with awareness. I need to start with small measures. Ten minutes of fittness a day when I get back home. And leave off the cookies. As everybody knows the diet that you will start after new year or after your birthday has much less chance of being successful than the diet you start now. So because of that, I started two days ago, not as much with a diet, but with more awareness. I am grabbing my needles in the evening instead of a chocolate (or three, or four), and if I absolutely must have a snack, like this morning when one of the children had eaten half my breakfast, a piece of fruit is a better choice.
Now hold on tight, I want the more slender, healthier, and more positive me back. And I am going to do something to get it!

Happy dressing

2011-05-07T07:47:00.000-07:00

I love to read the blog of the lovely Mrs. Beguiles. I love her approach to fashion, to the challenges of looking put together on a small budget and with young children. My 'anti frump' statements are too well known to repeat here. But I do understand the big challenges for a mom with young children to look 'nice'. This last year has been pretty difficult for me, with a high needs infant and a three year old trying to cope with the endless crying, with no family or very close friends living nearby.
For me, my biggest challenge has simply been to find the energy to care. Some days I barely had the energy to get my children and myself dressed. But somehow, the days that I did manage to get 'all dressed up' ended up to be days in which I felt better. In which the day seemed to go more smoothly. And in which I reflected back at the end that it just been a 'better' day. Now with 'all dressed up' I do not mean that I wear stilleto heels and a ballgown, or look ready to attend a royal wedding. But being clean (come on, you too have had those days where it is noon and you realize you haven't even brushed your teeth!), having my hair neat and tidy, wearing something nice, and if possible even a touch of make up.... it just makes me feel better.

I know that my children seem to find an outfit in which I feel nice as a challenge. Nothing predicts a diaper blow out, from the baby on your hip, more surely than a clean dress that makes you feel happy it seems. But well, if the icky stuff had happened on a pair of old yoga pants, we'ld have to change as well, right? So what is the difference? Don't we want to feel happy and pretty? And if your answer is "I just don't care how I look" we might think about the effect of that on the people closest to us. Wouldn't we want to be a 'sight for sore eyes' for our husband and children, even if it is amidst an interior of oatmeal crusted plastic kids furniture instead of a pottery barn catalogue?

Over the years I have found a few tricks to keep the frump contained. Practical little things that help me out on the days that I just don't have the energy to think.
First of all, the enemy of a clean and happy exterior is clutter. Yes.. your wardrobe. You may think that you need to buy the new and happy, pretty clothes first, and then you will get rid of the ones that make you look like you are pregnant. Even when you are not. I will let you in on a little secret. I wore my pregnancy jeans way past pregnancy. I am not just talking about those first weeks past giving birth, but well.. way too long. It didn't look pretty. It didn't make me feel pretty. One day I had an epiphany. I looked at all my pregnancy clothes. Which ones did I really like? Which ones had been a blessing during this pregnancy and make me feel good and were still in good condition? I boxed those up. The rest, I put in a bag for Goodwill and hoped that a pregnant woman might find herself blessed with them. All of a sudden I discovered a lot more of my pre pregnancy clothes that fit again, but that had been hiding or that I hadn't dared to try on again.

A few days later, I looked back into that closet and took another decision. What are the clothes that still fit really well, or are so close to fitting again that it is really worth it. (That size six dress was just not going to happen the next week.) Now be realistic. Which clothes that do not fit are really worth keeping? Are you currently in the process of actually losing weight? IS it working? If so.. chose only the things that you will really LOVE wearing when you are that size. Don't keep things that were from another youthful age as trophy clothes, or to taunt you about not losing enough weight. The few clothes that you do not really fit in but want to keep, either box them, or keep them to one side. (no more than five outfits.). All the rest put it in a bag right away and put it in the garage.
You now will be left with a lot less clothes, and you will be suprised that within that smaller lot, there is more that you actually want to wear.

You may not believe it, but you won't actually have to run around naked if you throw out that pair of ratty jeans or that faded pair of yoga pants. You will find that you have bought those few things over the years that actually make you look pretty. And that you can cook and clean in them just as well. And the next time you have the time (and energy) to go shopping, whether at a thriftstore, target, the mall or a high end boutique.. you will have an easier time in rejecting clothes that won't flatter you, just the way you are now. It may seem contradictory, but the more clothes you throw out, the more of a wardrobe you will have.

2011-05-07T07:10:00.000-07:00

I love to read the blog of the lovely Mrs. Beguiles. I love her approach to fashion, to the challenges of looking put together on a small budget and with young children. My 'anti frump' statements are too well known to repeat here. But I do understand the big challenges for a mom with young children to look 'nice'. This last year has been pretty difficult for me, with a high needs infant and a three year old trying to cope with the endless crying, with no family or very close friends living nearby.
For me, my biggest challenge has simply been to find the energy to care. Some days I barely had the energy to get my children and myself dressed. But somehow, the days that I did manage to get 'all dressed up' ended up to be days in which I felt better. In which the day seemed to go more smoothly. And in which I reflected back at the end that it just been a 'better' day. Now with 'all dressed up' I do not mean that I wear stilleto heels and a ballgown, or look ready to attend a royal wedding. But being clean (come on, you too have had those days where it is noon and you realize you haven't even brushed your teeth!), having my hair neat and tidy, wearing something nice, and if possible even a touch of make up.... it just makes me feel better.

I know that my children seem to find an outfit in which I feel nice as a challenge. Nothing predicts a diaper blow out, from the baby on your hip, more surely than a clean dress that makes you feel happy it seems. But well, if the icky stuff had happened on a pair of old yoga pants, we'ld have to change as well, right? So what is the difference? Don't we want to feel happy and pretty? And if your answer is "I just don't care how I look" we might think about the effect of that on the people closest to us. Wouldn't we want to be a 'sight for sore eyes' for our husband and children, even if it is amidst an interior of oatmeal crusted plastic kids furniture instead of a pottery barn catalogue?

Over the years I have found a few tricks to keep the frump contained. Practical little things that help me out on the days that I just don't have the energy to think.
First of all, the enemy of a clean and happy exterior is clutter. Yes.. your wardrobe. You may think that you need to buy the new and happy, pretty clothes first, and then you will get rid of the ones that make you look like you are pregnant. Even when you are not. I will let you in on a little secret. I wore my pregnancy jeans way past pregnancy. I am not just talking about those first weeks past giving birth, but well.. way too long. It didn't look pretty. It didn't make me feel pretty. One day I had an epiphany. I looked at all my pregnancy clothes. Which ones did I really like? Which ones had been a blessing during this pregnancy and make me feel good and were still in good condition? I boxed those up. The rest, I put in a bag for Goodwill and hoped that a pregnant woman might find herself blessed with them. All of a sudden I discovered a lot more of my pre pregnancy clothes that fit again, but that had been hiding or that I hadn't dared to try on again. A few days later, I looked back into that closet and took another decision. What are the clothes that still fit really well, or are so close to fitting again that it is really worth it. (That size six dress was just not going to happen the next week.) Now be realistic. Which clothes that do not fit are really worth keeping? Are you currently in the process of actually losing weight? IS it working? If so.. chose only the things that you will really LOVE wearing when you are that size. Don't keep things that were from another youthful age as trophy clothes, or to taunt you about not losing enough weight. The few clothes that you do not really fit in but want to keep, either box them, or keep them to one side. (no more than five outfits.). All the rest put it in a bag right away and put it in the garage.
You now will be left with a lot less clothes, and you will be suprised that within that smaller lot, there is more that you actually want to wear. You may not believe it, but you won't actually have to run around naked if you throw out that pair of ratty jeans or that faded pair of yoga pants. You will find that you have bought those few things over the years that actually make you look pretty. And that you can cook and clean in them just as well. And the next time you have the time (and energy) to go shopping, whether at a thriftstore, target, the mall or a high end boutique.. you will have an easier time in rejecting clothes that won't flatter you, just the way you are now.

Another embroidery project finished

2011-05-04T10:35:00.000-07:00

The Lord giveth,the Lord taketh away

2011-04-25T05:57:00.000-07:00

I am being a bit facetious here. I just had blogged about everything falling in place for easter, when a few hours later, I finally succumbed to all the germs that have been going around here. I send off my wonderful husband to attend EasterVigil, and as a family we attended the 10 o clock mass.
But first there were eggs and chocolate crosses to find. And a lot of books, toys and dvd send over by doting grandmothers. Unfortunately, the grass was too wet for outside, so we had to hunt eggs inside. Too bad, because we usually have the cutest pictures of our family. This year will be known in our photographic history as 'the easter when everybody had a cold'>

I said earlier we attended mass 'as a family' but Michael at age 14 months is at the stage where there is no way to keep him in the pew. And leaving him alone in the nursery means he will cry the whole hour. I keep reminding myself that these are just a few months and that Joseph came out of them capable of sitting more or less through the entirety of mass without causing his parents a nervous breakdown. Unfortunately Joseph is in the middle of a rebellious phase. Up until about ten days ago things were going very well, then all of a sudden, we find ourselves in weeks of tantrums, disobedience of rules that he never had any problems with and more of that kind. Growing pains, I guess. We just try and keep consisitant in being strict with the bad behaviour and at the same time throwing in extra snuggles and "I am proud of you" for good. It must not be fun to be three.
Anyhow, by the first reading, Michael had to be taken out. I managed to keep Joseph with me for a little bit longer, till righ after the consacration, but at the cost of part of my sanity. After I had brought him to the nursery for dada to play with, I cried my way through the rest of easter mass.

Luckily things went a bit better from there on. Lunch with our friends was wonderful. The rest of the day went by without major incidents, except the worsening cold.
In the midst of all these day to day mini trials though: the Lord be praised, for He is good. I don't understand Him, and luckily I don't have to. He is greater and His plans better than I can comprehend.

God blesses...

2011-04-23T19:02:00.000-07:00

Lent has been strange this year. I have blogged before about the different ways you start to approach holidays once you have children. How once cherished traditions sometimes need to make way for more childfriendly alternatives, and new traditions need to be developed. With christmas things worked out splendidly, and I was well on my way for lent. Then illness visited our little house and remained an unwelcome visitor. In itself, nothing major happened, but one by one all of us got one virus after another, until almost all of lent was filled up with tending to various illnesses and mishaps. My lenten craft projects and charts with Joseph, most of my own lenten sacrifices and routines.. the discipline of it all seemed to be born away under a current that was too strong to resist. I prayed, and was aware of lent. But that is all I was able to do. Underneath it, as I carried a crying Michael, I just prayed for strength, and prayed for God to consider my service to my family, and my attempt to do so patiently (a matter of trying and failing and trying some more) as my lenten sacrifice this year.
For some reason though, as Easter approached, things seemed to start falling in their place. A family we have befriended recently, invited us for Easter lunch, so I would not have to cook, we managed to arrange our attendance to several of the masses and liturgies and somehow, some way, found little pieces of time to prepare for tomorrow. The house is still a mess, and at 10 pm the night before, there is still laundry to be done. But I am feeling at rest and am awaiting my husband's return with the eternal good news that can never be undone by small earthly problems:
He is RISEN!!

Photo happy

2011-04-16T07:56:00.000-07:00

I have been very photo happy lately, instead of my usually wordy posts. The reason is simple: life has been so hectic that it has been hard to find the time to gather my thoughts to write. Sometimes I have the time to sit down, but just not the mental accumen to put any thoughts to paper. If I actually have any thoughts in the first place. I know the mothers who currently have little ones running around know the feeling. With every new developmental phase, there are new needs and new schedules, and it seems like the only constant in your life is transition. And chaos.

Add to that fact that this last six weeks work has been crazy, and my usual ten hours of work (most of which I work from home) have been growing and being more out of the house than in, as well as a number of illnesses in a row... things just seem to have spun out of control. Michael also is still high needs which means that most days.. I just run around frazzled even though work is back within normal boundaries.

So, in the evening, when in theory, I would have time to write you all about the days experiences, I often have to sit wordlessly and thoughtless need to let the day's business slide off from me with an idle brain, and hands soothingly occupied with some needlework or something else.

I am trying to create order in the chaos. Not the nice, serene order of a Pottery Barn catalog for kids. But an "I do not stick on the floor, nor break my neck" order. With the last round of illnesses though, we have been in survival mode: making sure everyone is fed (healthy or not), making sure everyone is dressed (mostly clean, or at least with no too noticable icecream or ketchup spots from yesterday) and making sure everyone is alive at the end of the day.

Currently I am trying to get out of the survival cocoon. Trying to find the floor again underneath the stuck on brocoli (okay, that might be a slight exageration, but not much.) And trying to get a semblance of order back in our lives.

In the midst of that, I keep trying to get some simple and special moments in my children's lives. A bedtime book routine with Michael. A craft with Joseph. There is so much to tell, and so little time to do so. So that is where the pictures come in.

With that said, here are a few more that I snapped yesterday:

Birthdays

2011-04-13T12:18:00.000-07:00

My mother and I almost share a birthday. Hers on the 26th, mine on the 24th. This year she was having a 'big number' birthday, so that had to be celebrated.

Being married

2011-04-07T10:19:00.000-07:00

There are many advantages to being a married woman. One of them is that fishing a dead squirrel out of the pool filter is not your job. I love you, my dear, wonderful husband!!

10 facts about me and my better half

2011-03-31T19:54:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Beguiles asked for ten facts about you and your better half. Well.. I love to talk about my husband, so... here you go!

My husband and I met online on CatholicMatch.com

He was interested in someone living in a 100 mile radius of Stanford or St. Louis. I lived in Belgium

After corresponding for a while, he added a few miles to the radius and ended up marrying me.

4. I adore him and feel very lucky that I stole him from under the nose of all my American friends. Sorry girls!

I actually had the pattern for my wedding dress before he asked me, though that is another story.

He asked to marry me in the Cathedral of Antwerp, where we later were married.

Two weeks after the wedding, my husband left for the USA, while I had to wait to get the paperwork in order to follow him. We were incredibly lucky and less than a month later, I could join him!

We both revel in being great, big, nerds, which is why our children already have more books than most adults.

I feel cherished as his wife, every single day.

10.

Our five year anniversary will be here soon. We are doubting between a short pilgrimage to Lourdes when we are in Europe. Or a weekend in Vegas when we are back.

Just a few pictures

2011-03-31T10:21:00.000-07:00

More later about why this blog has been so quiet the last week or so. For now, just a few pictures.

baptismal stole

2011-03-20T10:10:00.000-07:00

Remember this? That was the main medaillon on a baptismal stole. After that, I just added the initials for the sweet baby girl lower down the fabric. A bit of washing, ironing and packing... and off it went to the proud godfather. This weekend his Goddaughter was baptized, and the stole was used.
In Cathlic baptism ceremonies, babies or young children often wear a family heirloom gown. During the rite however a 'white garment' is mentioned that is placed upon th child. This can be a bib, or a stole, but the idea is that it is something that the child can take along on his sacramental journey. A personal keepsake.

For my first son we bought one. For my second son, I made one last minute. Now that I have done this, I know that if I ever have a third child, I definitely want to embroider one for him.
But for now, here are some pictures of the baptismal stole in use on the baptism day.

A perfect day: picnic with gnome!

2011-03-18T13:05:00.001-07:00

Oh it's such a perfect day... I'm glad I spent it with you...

That has always been one of my favorite songs, with it's lyrics about the joys of simple zoo visits and being together on a lovely day, just enjoying eachother. Lately, the boys and I have had very few of those perfect days. Each in turn being ill, or in Michael's case just generaly crabby and crying have left me frazzled and holding on by the skin of my teeth. And then, all of a sudden comes a day like today.

The weather is beautiful and the boys act like human children (actually, Joseph has been behaving really well in general lately). We decide on a visit to Jesus in a nearby church and a small picnic afterwards. But first we had to go to the store for an important purchase: our first Garden gnome. I have always loved Garden Gnomes, under the influence of Rien Poortvliet, the Efteling and all the folklore surrounding them. Now that we have a gnome worthy garden with trees and leaves and squirels, we needed a gnome. And I had spied the perfect one a week or so ago: a nice old countrygnome riding a ladybug and reading a book. Perfect. Joseph loves Ladybugs, and everyone in our house loves books!

So off we went, to get the gnome. We picked up some bubbles and drove to Church. I had miscalculated and daily mass was going on, so we joined in for the end of that. After mass we went in for a few more moments to blow a kiss to Jesus and genuflect, and then... we had our picnic in the church garden.The gnome was invited too.

The boys frolicked on the playground, ate the food we had packed, chased the bubbles I blew and proved to be the perfect fodder for my clicking camera in between.Such a perfect day. I hate to say it out of fear of seeing it pop like one of our soapbubbles, but the memory will last me a while.

Youth Minister

2011-03-14T19:11:00.000-07:00

I am a wife and mother first of all. I stay at home with my children and for my husband because I believe it is the most important job I can do. Since this year, I also work ten hours a week as a youth minister. Most of those hours are spent at home, doing prep work, video editing, lesson preparations, etc. And about two hours a week I teach. A few times though, there are extra duties (or pleasures). This weekend I attended the Diocesan Highschool Youth Conference. I drove back and forth instead of overnighting to be home at bed and breakfasttimes, and dada took wonderful care of the boys in between. There was a mix up in our order of the conference T shirts. We were missing two smalls, and there was one X large. Since nobody seemed to want it, I volunteered. I added a belt, a long skirt and boots. Aparently I looked like a cross between a traditional nun, and a Western gunslinger. Here are some picures.

Whitework pattern finished

2011-03-11T06:47:00.000-08:00

This little pattern was made on an openwork stitched linnen and will be the baptismal stole for a little girl named Anastasia Elise.

I finished the pattern and now only need to add the initials and the date, but I lost my thread, and I do not want to work with another shade of white, so I have some searching to do.

Spiritual bouquet

2011-03-09T07:30:00.000-08:00

Today Lent begins. Lent is a wonderful time of reflection and preparation for the mystery and feast of Easter! With Joseph being three, I am more and more finding things that I can do with him to start understanding this period. Small things.
One of the things I really want to do with him is to take time each day to pray for people.
I was encouraged yesterday when 'my' class of teens did their confirmation. (later more about that), but behind me sat the family of one of our confirmants, a wonderful mature, intelligent and faithful young lady. Who comes from a wonderfully devout (and fashionable!) family. They have five children, and behind me I heard the one but youngest kneel down as time for communion aproached, and start making the act of contrition (asking Jesus forgiveness for his sins) as part of a spiritual communion.
I was floored. This young boy was earnest, devout and knew his stuff. I nearly cried. I want my children to have his kind of faith. I want them to grow up into young people that radiate Christ the way these children do. Have I mentioned that they are also funny, smart, articulate and responsible and have their own personalities, interests and quirks?
Anyhow, it gave me another morale boost to not let time go to waist and usher in lent with my children, instead of trying to do it my way and trying to sneak in 'spiritual time' around my children.

One of the things I am going to do is help them pray for other people (including their mommy!) but also for those shepherds of the church.
And this website is giving me a wonderful idea. Children's prayers should be expecially pleasing to the Lord. Will you join me during lent to pray for the pope or for the spiritual leader of your church?

Feast days

2011-03-07T08:04:00.000-08:00

One of my resolves this year is to celebrate more. To make more special moments in the day to day business of our lives. The church is such a wonderful guide in this. Today is the feast day of St. Thomas of Aquinas who is the patron saint of academics, and.. surprise.. my husband's confirmation saint.

We do not have any big plans, and we are certainly not going to use the day as another excuse to buy gifts. (Though it is tempting, so tempting to buy him a book). Catholic Cuisine however gave me the idea of doing something with the symbol of St. Thomas Aquines which is the star. It reminds me of the motto of the University of Utrecht (my own alma mater) though that one concerns the sun:
‘Sol Iustitiae Illustra Nos': Sun of Righteousness, enlighten us. So today, let us send up prayers for all academics and academic students: that they may be enlightened! That righteousness may guide them.

As to 'Our House' we will of course follow the Lord. And in this case, let us have St. Thomas' beloved star to guide us.

Whitework in progress

2011-03-01T17:27:00.000-08:00

Yard work

2011-02-27T12:27:00.001-08:00

We planted a blueberry bush, some peppers, tomatoes and brussels sprouts. Joseph's choice of seeds. Between you, me and the squirrels, I am uncertain if we will ever get to eat any of it, but I am hopeful!

At the table

2011-02-26T06:20:00.000-08:00

Recently a new blog was recommended to me, and I love reading many of the post. Emily over at a Beautiful Life, challenges us to pay attention the the family meal, make it a sacred moment in our days.
I am not certain if I could post something at the moment that would fit the wonderful example. But we do strive to make the family meal a special and God honouring time. Of course being me, I will have to mention the challenges as well. Challenges like.. having children actually sit down at the meal.
But let's not start with that. Let's start with the meal itsself. We eat as a family in the evening, all together around the table. For a while we let things go and ended up eating in the living room together, but it just felt wrong. Besides, we ended up watching tv while eating instead of spending time really together.
Now the big challenge for me is that both of my children are very young, and very active. Joseph is three and a half, and time to sit still is, in his opinion, wasted time. Unless he is playing with his trains, I guess. Michael just turned one, so the main challenge is to make sure he eats and does not just toss all the food on the floor, while squeeling for his cup. While Michael eats just about anything, Joseph is going through a phase in which five bites is about
I used to have visions of wonderfully balanced conversations around the dinner table in which we all tell about our days and talk about edifying things. At the moment, dinner conversation is a litany of 'please sit down, sweetie." "Joseph, please wait till your mouth is empty before speaking." While either my husband or I need to get up three or four times a meal, no matter how many things we try and put on the table, trying to anticipate the children's needs.
On the other hand... if I did not go through these training years now, how big is the chance that when they turn twelve, I can turn around and say; "Okay, from now on we will all spend family time sitting and eating serenely together" and I can expect them to have table manners, inteligent conversation, and a desire to spend the time with us?

So, at this young age, we muddle through. We pray before mealtimes, in English and in Dutch. The prayers are short, but by now my oldest son knows them, and my youngest son recognizes them. Dada asks questions to Joseph, like: so what did you do today? The answers are commonplace, since our days are simple. We went to the grocery store. To the park. We played with the sand. And I provide humourous comments, by filling in the details.
While I love beautiful tablecloths and candlesticks, right now they would form another challenge to stop the children from pulling it, spilling tomato sauce on it before the first bite has been taken and an extra temptation for me to get upset at not having my quiet haven of well behaved conversation and serene prayer.
Before I get there, I believe I need to go through this phase of family meal time with training wheels on. We see progress, as we manage to keep our oldest boy at the table longer each day. We do not squabble anymore about whether he wants to eat what is on his plate. He will eat it or not, but not receive anything else. It's a challenge at the moment, but I hope that in a few years, I will be able to savour the fruit of our mealtime prayers, admonitions not to speak with the mouth full, and homecooked meals, in having a family happily gathered around the table, talking, praying and celebrating meals together.

Two new embroidery projects

2011-02-25T14:55:00.000-08:00

One is a little cribsheet (not the fitted sheet, but a light replacement for a receiving blanket.) The second one will be a baptismal garment.

Art

2011-02-23T08:14:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned earlier, until a few days ago, I did not even own a paintbrush. My childhood 'trauma's' over any attempt to draw or paint are pretty convincing that I have absolutely no talent in this area. And it is true, I probably do not, but I do not need talent to have some fun with my little boy, and to try my hand at something new and intriguing. I have always envied people who could draw or paint, or sketch. Part of it might be that I grew up with someone who was and is an amazing artist, while I couldn't even draw a stick figure.

Still, I am going to try and let perfectionism go and enjoy my little paintbrush and my little figures. And if they do not end up like the art of this talented gentleman, with a bit of practice, I can probably get something recognizable.

If you are looking for an original Saint's day gift, a special Easter keep sake, or -looking forward- a one of a kind nativity, go have a look at:
StLukesbrush over at etsy: http://www.etsy.com/shop/StLukesBrush?ref=pr_shop

Starting Saints

2011-02-22T06:45:00.000-08:00

Jessica, over at Shower of Roses inspired me a while ago to try and make some wooden saints. Only, I never dared to do it, because.. let's be honest, I don't even OWN a paint brush, that's how bad I am at crafts that do not include working a fine needle. Still, they looked so cute. When in my local craft store, I happened to come across these two little wooden, unpainted dolls, I just had to buy them. And a sampler set of paint. And three paint brushes.
Yesterday, in a few unguarded minutes, I painted the mantel and veil on one of them. Joseph and I did the face together on the second one, with both of our hands holding the marker. Today he wants to try his hand at the paint. I need to squelch my inner perfectionist on that one, and just let him!

Wedding dresses.. longing for beauty.

2011-02-18T07:45:00.000-08:00

No, this is not another excuse to post some more pictures of my wedding dress. (Though I admit, I am tempted.) But while visiting Mrs. Beguiles' wonderful blog again today, it struck me how many women jumped at the chance of sharing their wedding gown. Of course I do not know most of the ladies who, like me, responded with their picture of beauty and romance, but in general they seemed happily married women, not longing back to retrace a 'princess for a day' experience. Yet there is something... appealing about the subject of wedding dresses. Our own, but also those of others. I can only speak for myself, but I think the sheer beauty of the gown we selected is something we keep looking back at, and something perhaps that we miss in our day to day lives.
When you ask many moms what they love to wear, their answer is: "Oh, as long as it is comfortable" "Oh, as long as I can chase the kids in it." We don't want fuss. We don't want feathers. We want to be comfortable and do our jobs as mothers. And while we may have a few dresses, 'gowns' are so inpractical. Would you want a baby to spit up on your wedding dress? How would you clean apple sauce off the floor wearing all white? And... what would people say if they saw us all dressed up like some opera star when we were just running to the supermarket? It's not practical. It's not realistic. And yet...

There is that little corner in the minds of many of us that longs for something else. How many times have you looked at a site with Regency patterns and thought it would be wonderful to wear one of those dresses tomorrow. But you can just see yourself in the post office. Where would you put the sippy cups? The diapers? And you just know that as soon as you would put on that one.. special.. dress it will have to go in the laundry ten minutes after you put it on. Wearing a dress like that is... like an invitation for the stomach flu, right?

I wonder. I can't help myself but wonder. I look at what I am wearing as I sit here, typing. Not a regency dress. Not sweats either. Maybe I fall somewhere in the middle. My top is pretty, and elegant. Black with long sleeves and some style in the way it is cut. My skirt... well.. it used to be one of my favorites. But now it is tired. And slightly frayed and faded. It is a long skirt though, with a pretty, modern floral pattern, but if I am honest, it is not the gown I want to wear.
Something inside me still longs for the medieval style dress that I wore as my wedding dress. Maybe not in ivory silk. Maybe not with a veil. But a nice green flax, or cotton, or wool.. that should be doable, right? Women used to wear these clothes all the time and often had a much more physical life than I. More children than I.
Maybe the crinoline of the fifties is calling. Maybe you prefer to think of the empire waist of regency gowns. Maybe like Anne of Green Gables, you long for puffed sleeves. But I challenge you, as I challenge myself, to bring some of those desires in your life and your wardrobe.
We don't all have to walk around in costumes, but... with a litle bit of searching on this thing called the interent, we can come pretty close to dressing the style we actually want. And if someone spills applesauce on it? Well, most dresses will wash. Just as those yoga pants do.

Ouch...

2011-02-17T14:26:00.001-08:00

Yes, that is a seriously swollen, slightly mangled looking hand. War wounds. But I display them gladly and gratefully, because I may have preserved my little boy from much worse.
Our doorbell has these four long chime pipes. Joseph loves to play with them. I had him on my hip to comfort him because he was dissapointed at not having earned a treat. The moment I urged him to be gentle, he pulled way too hard and the heay casing on top came crashing down.. towards where Michael was playing on the floor. Mother's instinct kicked in and smashed my hand into it as it was hurling down to deflect it. Got hit in the hand by two of the sharp points. Michael cried because he was startled, but considering the hole in my hand from higher up, it might have given him a serious hole in the head if it had landed on him.

The story of a gown...

2011-02-15T18:40:00.000-08:00

Three posts in one day? What could have caused that? Why the lovely Mrs. Beguiles of course. While she is not responsible for the homeschool mayhem she did ask us to describe our wedding gowns. Now even five years after the fact, there is little that can delight me more than talk about it, except perhaps talking about my wonderful husband. But that must be another post. I love wedding shows even up to this day, and despite the fact that my wedding was done on a budget, with lots of friends pitching in, I thought it amazing, and I still wouldn't trade my wedding gown for anything of the fanciest designer.

I always joke that I actually had the design of my wedding gown before I was even engaged.
I had, and still have, an interest in medieval style, and had bought a pattern in the hope of making the gown for a convention, but in the end decided against the attempt.
I remember having send a picture of the pattern to my husband, then my 'suitor' at the time, talking enthousiastically about the convention. He mentioned how much he thought the gown would suit me. Once we were engaged, I could not get that gown out of my head. So instead of the months of bridal shopping that I had always envisioned myself doing, trying on everything possible, I asked a seamstress to create my wedding dress from the pattern I already had.

At the same time, I had stumbled in one of my favorite lace shops over a magnificent lace veil with lily of the valley. Since it was completely out of my budget I put all thoughts about it aside and considered maybe embroidering my own veil. However, a few months later, my mother and mother in law conspired together and gave it to me as a thirtieth birthday gift.

And now.. on to my dress. We chose a light ivory silk. The silhouette had princess seams and long sleeves. It was important for me to have sleeves, and I loved the way they turned out.

The ring pillow was made in the same lace as the veil, so this gives you a close up look of the lily of the valley pattern, that I can't seem to capture in the other pictures.

I wore a crown of flowers on my head instead of a tiara, because it seemed to suit, besides I didn't want a tiara to take the attention off the veil. Everything somehow had a bit the style of a time when the whole world was still divided in tiny realms, and local ladies of the keep married with flowers in their hair, joining two families and had a big feast afterwards for friends and neighbours and all the community.

In keeping with that theme, and because we didn't see the need for an expensive rental car, we just walked through the city towards the cathedral, which was my parish church at the time. It was a lot of fun with people we had never met shouting well wishes to us as we passed.

All in all, I guess I looked rather oldfashioned, but I loved it, and even though we didn't do it on purpose, it fit the setting in the cathedral.

When we left after the wedding, we just caught one lucky ray of light, like a final blessing on our vows.

And almost five years later, I adore my husband even more than I did on that most wonderful of days!

Home..schooling

2011-02-15T14:06:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine vehemently objects to people using the term homeschooling for children under the age of say... six. Under that age you are not replacing school, you are just parenting. Still.. the last few days Joseph and I have slowly added a few more organized activities to our daily lives. Just ten minutes of 'work' once or twice a day. He has been tracing numbers, and I am hoping that daddy will start teaching him how to read very soon. I love reading to him, but I also love the enthousiasm he shows for learning how to read by himself. He loves to pretend to read the stories he has learned by heart be having them read to him through and through.
Anyhow, I am trying to become a bit more organized about it all. So I moved a little cabinet from the playroom to our kitchen table and repurposed it as my 'school cabinet'. I had it all wonderfully organized. Had.. being the operative word. Michael clearly wanted to have some homeschool fun for himself.

Ups and downs

2011-02-15T13:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was 'one of those days'. You know them. For some reason everything goes wrong. The heart of the matter was Michael. There may be a tooth coming through or something was wrong, but he did NOT.. STOP.. CRYING until naptime at 3 pm. I have read and truely believe that mothers who have gone through colic with their baby are long afterwards extra sensitive to the sound of crying children. Intolerant almost. I am not sure whether that is scientific or not, but I can certainly attest to it. I just could not put him down for a single moment and nothing I did seemed to help. Then of course Joseph got upset because he couldn't get any atention and whenever I tried to put Michael down, he veered straight for Joseph's traintracks and dismantled them. Joseph had some trouble with one of the tracks. He had put a bridge over a curved track which meant that the trains could not get through. And that frustrated him. I tried to help, but each time I put Michael down he veered towards it. I dealt with the tantrums calmly, maturely, while trying to be heard over the ever wailing Michael.
Finally, during a full sized tantrum, with my arms aching, my head pounding, I snapped and yelled at Joseph: JUST BECAUSE A TOY DOES NOT WORK IS NO REASON TO START SCREAMING." Not my finest mothering moment. And not the example of how to teach my son how to deal with frustration.
Still.. as a compassionate friend shared with me: One day does not a childhood make. After naptime, things seemed to have settled down, and we managed a pleasant evening. Today I seem to have different children. Happy, playful.. of course still a handful, but not seemingly intent anymore on driving mommy into the madhouse. We went to pick up photos, we played at the mall playground, we went grocery shopping, we played outside, we planted some seeds. Whew.. what a difference a day makes.

My first mommy craft

2011-02-11T20:13:00.000-08:00

A few posts ago, I mentioned how much I enjoy my children becoming older. Today we reached two milestones. One is a Michael milestone. A few days after his first birthday, Michael finally said his first word. It wasn't mommy. It wasn't daddy. It was "kuh" "kuh" "kuh" while trying to reach his sippy cup! Hurray! The first step towards verbal communication. I treasure that first word!

Another milestone is pictured above. Joseph and I managed to make the little Grotto for the celebration of the feastday of Our Lady of Lourdes. I remember as a child in school (public school even) how in may we made this craft in honor of Our Lady. It was a round cardboard box (from those little wedges of Laughing Cow cheese). The background was painted light blue, some glittery garlad was strung around it and inside we would glue a picture of Our Lady of Lourdes. If you are from Belgium and around my age, you probably made it yourself one year. It is one of the few craft projects I actually remember.
So today I wanted to make it with Joseph. Unfortunately the little round cheesebox had been disposed of, so I had to improvise. Joseph chose the picture of Our Lady, and I printed it. He helped cut out the rectangle for the background, punch the stars, and glue everything together.
Mommy crafts! A new era has started.

Unrecognizable

2011-02-09T19:31:00.000-08:00

Today I was sitting at the computer with a little boy on my lap. I think mothers spend half of the time doing what they do with someone either sitting on them, hanging on them, or held by them. Depending on what they are doing, this is a good thing, or a slight hurdle to efficiency.
Still.. I was tapping away on the keys when my computer spoke to me. Well, not literally but this message appeared on my screen:

Computer: unrecognizable device USB.

Me (unaware of having anything plugged in): huh?

I look down and see that Michael has the camera connect cable in his mouth.

Birthday party

2011-02-07T06:52:00.000-08:00

We were celebrating Michael's birthday saturday, three days before the actual event. My carefree roll with the flow attitude that had worked so well for christmas seemed to get me in a bit of trouble this time though. The last two days before the party several little things seemed to go wrong. Michael was really fussy on friday, making it harder to get everything cleaned up enough so people would neither break their legs nor stick to the floor. The sushi platter I had planned to quickly pick up didn't exist anymore. (note to self: go with the flow is good, put in a call to check if the food you want to serve actually still exists might not be that bad an idea either.). The pants I had started to iron for tomorrow's pictures had still stains on them that didn't get out even after repeat washing and the weather had turned back to frigid, making it uncertain that my wonderful in laws could be there. Then I had a call from JCPenny that their camera had broken down and our morning appointment couldn't go through, and I burned my hand while trying to make pasta sauce with Michael hanging on my leg.....

Nothing really major in itsself but the mantra "it's just a fun get together. Nothing special. Don't worry. People come for you, not your house or the food. Everything will just be fine and fun if you don't let it sour your mood." started to just fray a little bit at the edges. I think I shall call it 'artistically frayed' though. Or maybe just a fringe, because I kept it together and was rewarded by a wonderful day.
Our photographer called to say that the camera had arrived early, so we could still go. The pictures turned out pretty nice. Back at home the food came out great. And the company was superb. Michael seemed to enjoy the attention and demonstrated his new walking skills and his interest in every tool for housecleaning. Joseph was mostly interested in the cake! The Pooh theme was a succes and the conversation wonderful. And despite some technological glitches we managed to video Skype with my mother at the pinnacle of the birthday celebration where everybody gathered to sing happy birthday around the cake so she could be there somewhat as well.

The only one who wasn't aware of that moment anymore was the birthday boy who had fallen asleep on my shoulder. It was a cute moment and one we will tease him with the rest of his life. After I put him in bed, the rest of us proceeded with a family tradition of birthday hats: in this case everybody donned Pooh ears. Everybody except Joseph who wouldn't keep his on. I think the grown ups actually enjoy these things more than the children.

Michael slept almost an hour and a half and awoke just as the very last guests were leaving. Afterwards we had fun opening presents with him. Monsters and books and clothes and cute doggies.. and later we went to Barnes and Nobles and bought him another book and a cute set of pots and pans. They have toys now at Barnes and Nobles! As if that store was not dangerous enough! Last part of the very special day was a bath in which he had his new bath toys all for himself. I predict when big brother comes back from his little vacation with mimi and pa, it will be a wet battle waged for who gets to use it!

After bath we cuddled him all up in the fluffy red bathrobe that his great grandmother had send him, and he was ready for bed very soon after.

I love birthday parties.

Birthday photo session with Michael

2011-02-05T19:45:00.000-08:00

Towards that first birthday

2011-02-03T13:49:00.001-08:00

Maybe this post makes me a bad mommy, but honestly, the first year of life with a baby for me is survival. Of course I have only done it two times so far. And maybe I had more difficult children than most, but I am not certain. I think the issue is more with me than with the children.
I LOVE my children, but I wish I could fast forward through that first year. A lot of people said to me with my first child: Ohh.. you are going to miss this. Maybe. Maybe when my children are all grown up and I have an empty house, I may. But in the mean time it is very comforting to me to look at Joseph and think how much more I liked the twoes than I did that first year. And how much more I like the threes than the twoes. Even with all the tantrums, and trying to instill manners, a love for art, reading, gratitude, faith, healty food, quietness, exercise and everything together... I enjoy interaction with my child so much more.

And the older Michael becomes, the more possible it becomes to do things with him. Or things with Joseph. Or things with both of them together. Sometimes it sounds like heresy to older moms that long back for that baby stage. But I can't wait to leave it behind for the firsts, the seconds, the thirds... and maybe even the teenage years. Though I will reserve judgement on that till I am there!

Late night creativity

2011-02-02T19:59:00.000-08:00

how far we are removed from food...

2011-02-02T07:46:00.000-08:00

. I think that, in general, I feed my family well. Sure, there are occasional trips to McDonalds and we have pizza night. But most days, we have vegetables (fresh or frozen), meat or another protein. Some meals with or without extra carbs. I use mostly whole wheat pasta, brown rice. There are frequent greens, reds, browns on our menu and don't get me started on fruit. I take my boys shopping with me, and Joseph's greatest delight is to be able to get some Brussels sprouts. Yes, we buy cookies too (or make them). And there are crackers and goldfish. But all in all, I think we are doing pretty well. I let Joseph help with cooking and baking to make sure he is connected to the the food. That's why yesterdays exchange came as a surprise.

I had taken my chicken out of the fridge to prepare it for roasting, and was removing the giblets. Joseph came up next to me and asked: "What is that?" I turned to him, surprised and said: "That is a chicken." I have roasted chicken's before, though not in the last two or three months I think.

Joseph looked at the chicken again, nodded and concluded: "A dinosaur chicken."

I nearly dubbled laughing. Maybe a dinosaur chicken is one that has not yet evolved into chicken nuggets? Or chicken breast filets?

He did actualy eat some of the chicken that evening though, which is a victory as he is going to a period in which he turns up his pert little nose for anything I make for dinner. I may have to cut back on those after naptime snacks and make sure he is more hungry.

.

Embroidered handkerchief

2011-01-31T16:11:00.000-08:00

I have been working on this little hanky for several months, of and on. The lace was on there before so is not from my hands. I wish it would photograph better. The stitches are textured, so you really feel as if it is a bouquet on the linnen. I am nearly done. The second part of the stem still needs to be finished and then the monogram letter comes on the place where a ribon would bind the stems together.

Gratitude

2011-01-22T17:31:00.001-08:00

Joseph had his toys confiscated today. He kept nagging for a toy in the store, and when we reminded him of all the nice toys he had at home, he said he did not want them. The attitude of entitlement is really something that irks me, and I am determined not to foster it in my own son. After he had repeated a few more times that he did not want his toys, I calmly explained that if he said so one more time, I would take up all the toys in his room and put them in garbage bags. Alas.. he repeated.

And I always follow through when I say something. (You think that he would have found that out by now.) So we came home and I grabbed two garbage bags and filled them with all the thomas take and play and puzzles and every toy in his room. I had planned to leave the books untouched but he declared "He did not want them" as well. So... A third garbage bags was retrieved and therein went all the books. There was a minor tantrum of course but I ignored that. When he was calmed down, I sat Joseph down for a little talk on gratitude. How people work hard and when they give him things, it is not nice to say that he does not want them. It makes people sad.

Fast forward a few hours. There were no major incidents anymore. Joseph was not all that grateful for his dinner, but he eats what he eats and mommy does not make anything else, we do not make any scenes about that here. If he declares himself finished after one or two bites, that is okay, but he will need to remain at the table like a semi civilized human being for x more minutes. Then he can be excused from the table. I love it when that little boy's voice asks: "May I please be excused?".

After he was excused Joseph played a little bit. Since he seemed in a good mood, I thought it was a good moment to repeat today's lesson a bit more.

Me: "Joseph? Can you tell dada what gratitude is?"

Joseph: "Uhm.....is gratitude...."

Dada: "Yes, can you tell dada what gratitude is? What it is to be grateful?"

Joseph, trying to put it in the right phrase: "ehm.. gratitude and be grateful and mama take them away... mama takes the toys away"

Dada: (helping out) "Yes, if you are not grateful, your toys are taken away. Now, do you know what 'being grateful' is?"

Joseph: Getting it back!!

I had to run out of the dining room and was literally bend over in laughter.

Some prayers please?

2011-01-21T20:54:00.000-08:00

I hate to yell. I dislike people who yell. I even cringe in restaurants because I think the tone in which people all around us speak while having dinner is too loud. Needless to say I do never want to raise my children yelling. Now I don't speak of a frantic "STOP!" right before you see your child running unto the road. Clearly that is a moment where "Sweetheart, if you wouldn't mind slowing down a bit before the vehicle that is aproaching might accidentily crash into you." would be a bit too much. Though I have used similar sentences in advance explenations of why hands need to be held on parking lots and play in the front yard needs to remain on the grass. But that "STOP" example isn't what this post is about.

I have found myself, more frequently than I want, yelling at my boys. I don't call them names or say ugly things. I just shout at the top of my voice. I NEVER shout. I dislike.. I detest shouting. And yet here I am. I think I have shouted three times this week. And it's not about disobedience or horrible things that they do in and of itsself.

It's just those days when your baby woke up so you didn't get a good night sleep, morning routine went wrong, so you didn't even have a shower, you tried brushing your teeth while keeping someone from running the faucet constantly in the sink enxt to you and putting toothpaste on his brush five times over... And you promise yourself that you will deal with everything with Grace. And you pray to God to give you enough patience that day.
And all through the day all those little things seems to go wrong, and then it is early afternoon and you need to go to the toilet, but you need to get the baby out of the carseat first even though that means you have to wake him when he finally fell asleep which you know will ruin his naptime later, and then your todler decides that he wants to climb over to the front seat... and you already burned your fingertips earlier in the day, trying to get something out of the toaster and because somebody spilled juice all over themselves just before you had to leave you have been almost late at a doctor's appointment and after the appointment you ended up on your knees trying to get the cheerios that the baby overturned from underneath the chairs in the waiting room, while keeping an eye on your todler who wants to play with a little girl who is being ignored by her mother and keeps pushing him away and the baby on your hip is howling and the nurse finally comes out with the prescription you need and you try to get them all out of there, and then you sit in the car and you realize you need to go to the toilet yourself , but you can't just unstrap everybody, so you try to get home. And the todler that you are trying to potty train poops in his diaper for the three thousand time and fills the car with stench. And of course every light is red, and ... you just.. can't seem to handle one more thing... and then one more thing happens. And then you yell: GET OUT OF THE CAR! NOW!

And I don't want to yell. But I get so stressed. It's not a matter of yelling to get him to obey, it is just.. pure pent up frustration.

So I ask you to join your prayers with mine for more.. understanding.. ease.. and gentleness towards my children. Because there will be more of those days, many more, and the only thing that can change in them is me.

"The secret"

2011-01-17T13:29:00.000-08:00

On a message board I belong to, a lady asked us to list just one thing that we love about our husbands. There were many answers given: deep, funny, happy, every day and very special. One of the answers struck a cord with me. The woman shared how wonderful it was that her husband made her feel desired and desirable every day of her life. We are not talking about undergarments and roses... no. The wonder of it is that her husband (and mine) makes her feel desired as she is. When the children have left her no time for a shower, when she has not lost the weight after a baby, and even when she is very grouchy!

This is one of the great 'secrets' I so much want to tell to younger girls. There is so much emphasis on how girls look, that even feminist broadcasters are called to CNN to bemoan it. Young girls should be thinking about becoming doctors and lawyers, not breast augmentations, false lashes, hair extensions, diets... Being your own woman is what makes you happy, not looking phony to atract a man. But guess what? Women still want to get married. They want someone to be with and grow old with (although they do not want to think about the growing old part. Or even about growing up.) And since developing your womanly side has been banned as an option, women seem to think that looking like a superstar, being sexy is the only way to be 'atractive'.

The sad thing is that all the attempts to look like Miss. Perfect will fade over time. No matter how much plastic surgery, creams, and super fashionable underwear you have, there always will be someone younger and prettier than you. On Tv talkshows you see husbands being boed away as they complain about their wives not being the atractive trophy wife they married. And of course they should not feel that way, but if that is the way a woman 'catches' her man, he expects her to keep up her end of the bargain, and it simply is impossible. Growing older, having children, the day to day life... will make you into a real woman and not a clubhopping energizing bunny who can swagger and sashay like a fantasy.

There is however an alternative. I always advocate on this blog to look elegant, and to be modest without being frumpy. And I try to live that. But well.. babies do spit up, and some days.. even a five minute shower just is not in the cards. Some days, no matter how much you quote scripture and inspirational texts to yourself, you get grouchy. And here is the good news: if you chose well, you have a husband that loves you even on those days. And that desires you on those days.

If you are a young woman, looking for marriage, work on your character, AND your discernment... you may be lucky enough to marry one of the good guys. And to them.. all of the exterior matters just fade away. You will be loved, you will be desired, you will have a love life that reaches the stars even your hair has not been washed three days in a row, and you have been chasing cheerios for hours. Of course your husband will still appreciate it that you try to do your best to look pretty, but his love, nor his desire will depend upon it.
This means however that you need to have to offer something beyond good looks. So instead of having "I want to lose weight" this year as your new years resolution, try: "I want to practice more patience." Instead of planning to "pamper yourself with a manicure at least once a mont", try practicing "self denial". And instead of buying a stylish wardrobe, consider developping your conversational skills. Those never go out of fashion.