Bye Bye Birdie...A Conclusion

This morning Gavin came to me and said, "Mama Robin's nest looks kind of messed up". I dragged a chair over to look inside the nest...and the eggs were gone. The crow, or blackbirds, won. It was a sad morning, but as I said before, they are all teaching moments. You know, the circle of life and everything. Hakuna matata. Making lemonade out of lemons. Really, I just want to get out the shotgun and go Scarface on the crows.

Later when we went outside to plant some of the garden Liam found what was left of Mama Robin's eggs. It was pretty depressing.

We decided to take a walk to the park to "make lemonade" out of the rest of the day. It was Ian's first visit to a park. He loved the rocks. He was trying to swim in them.

There were three boys sitting at the park when we first got there. The whole time they were telling "Your mama is so ______ (fat, stupid, ugly, short, hairy) jokes. I was curious how my boys would react to that type of behavior. Would they say something or ignore them? Or laugh along with the boys with hopes of being accepted? They kept their distance, strangely enough, since my oldest two are definitely not shy. Aidan came over to me and asked, " Are they trying to make jokes? That's not funny, don't they like their moms?"

Some days, despite the struggles and backslides and ugly moments, there is proof that we're doing something right.

To Kill a ... Robin?

A couple mornings ago, as I finished my cup of coffee, I watched this industrious mama robin hop back and forth across the top rail of our deck. She was carrying dried grass and weeds back and forth for well over an hour before I had to get up and start my work day.

Later, we went out to see where she had decided to build her nest. The boys were very excited to see she had chosen to live so close to our dining room window where they could watch her come and go.

Yesterday they rushed in exclaiming "Mama Robin laid eggs in the nest!" I warned the boys that they needed to stay away from the nest now. Mama Robins like to be left alone while they are trying to take care of their babies, and if they're pestered too much they may leave and abandon the eggs. Teaching moments can be found in simply observing life around us.

I had to sneak a peek myself! They are so pretty!

Alas, I fear Mama Robin will not be left alone with her eggs. Within five feet of her nest we have a suet basket, which is often visited by blackbirds. She chirps angrily as she chases them away.

Her nest is also close to the door the boys use to take Mojo out, and on the deck Mojo uses to sun himself. 

These are the least of her problems, though, because a much more devious enemy has discovered her. We were drawn to the window yesterday by a commotion and saw a ball of feathers, claws, and wings flying off the deck, squawking and chattering. Mama Robin was chasing off a coal black, chicken-sized crow. I've been unable to snap a photo of this cunning crow because as soon as he sees movement in the window he flees his perch on the deck rail. I haven't seen him at all today, so hopefully my face has warned him off for good. 

There are always crows in our yard and street, especially on trash day. Crows are known for destroying the nests of other birds and eating the eggs. Considered to be among the world's most intelligent animals, certain species of crows have been observed bait-fishing, using tools (i.e. sticks) to obtain food, and can distinguish individual people by recognizing facial features. They often congregate in large roosts and studies have shown they can communicate among themselves to formulate plans for survival and food gathering. It seems appropriate that a flock of crows is also known as a murder.

I'm rooting for you, Mama Robin!

On This and That and a Prayer Request

I just could not get my coffee right this morning. I am not normally a morning person, but in my recent campaign to better myself I've resolved to (try to) go to bed earlier. This allows me to get up earlier (6-7 am), giving myself oh-so-necessary quiet time to say my personal prayers, read, and write. (Most of the time I'm thankful that my boys have inherited both their father's and my late-to-rise tendencies.) Coffee is a necessary drop kick to my brain in order to make all this work. When it tastes like water I've got a serious problem. I made it the same way I do every morning. I checked the basket and even added more grounds. It's a mystery. It did lead to a terrifying thought that maybe all my taste buds went dead overnight.

A couple days ago I ran some errands with Ian. He was such a good baby and took two naps while we were gone. My parents offered to watch the other three boys, giving me a wonderful afternoon to recharge. I spent two hours in a local thrift store and found some supplies for more craft projects: more fabric, an old wood box, green pint Ball jars. Hopefully some of this ends up in my Etsy shop. If I keep falling in love with the stuff it'll never reopen! I'll post as I finish projects. Since the weather has not been conducive to planting or outdoor activities I hope to knock out as many of my indoor projects as I can.

There is a plan...

I found Mojo a new kennel blanket while thrifting. He kept getting caught in the holes of his old afghan. 

I found a new diaper bag/church tote on clearance for $13! Our old diaper bag had served it's purpose. It's zipper was broke and there we're small holes in it. Plus, it was time to downsize a little since Ian is no longer a tiny baby needing an arsenal of baby things and back-up this and that.

Vintage books! The three on the bottom are by William Faulkner.

And a "haunting" discovery, tucked in the pages of Faulkner....

We're getting so close to wrapping up our school year. Both boys only have phonics and religion left (which we pretty much do all year round anyway), and Aidan has a couple lessons of handwriting and science textbook to read. I can't believe we'll have a 3rd grader and a 1st grader next fall! Liam will join his brothers with "official" school work in the fall of 2016.

Finally, I would like to ask for prayers for our grandparents. My Grandpa Clem, who will turn 92 this year, recently had surgery to remove spots of colon cancer. He had complications resulting from the surgery and is currently back in the hospital. He's beaten this before, but surgery is harder the older you get and he could use all the help he can get.

Grandpa and Grandma (Bernice Julia, my namesake and godmother), early 1970's. This picture makes me happy, and I have it framed on my "gallery" wall.

I'd also like to ask for prayers for Eli's Grandma Vivian, who will also turn 92 this year. She took a nasty fall and broke her arm and hip, and is in need of surgery. Her heart went into a-fib before they could do surgery, so they had to delay it until this afternoon.

Grandma Vivian with Ian last spring (2014)

They are our last living grandparents, and we'd really appreciate prayers offered for them.

Update: Grandma's surgery went well and she is now recovering.

Grandpa is also back home and doing well. Thank you all for your prayers!

How Does Your Garden Grow?

April is an exciting month for the boys. It usually starts off with Aidan's birthday, the drama of our Holy Week traditions, and Easter Sunday. Shortly after, things begin to grow. I have to confess that I get pretty excited as well. Every spring I feel the urgent need to dig in the dirt and breath in fresh air.

All four of our boys love dirt, so when they're asked to help me get the garden ready for planting I get very enthusiastic responses. Generally they start off strong, raking up dead leaves and stalks from last year and carting them off in the red wagon to our brush pile. Then comes the digging, which they also are zealous about in the beginning. (We really need to invest in a tiller, but it is great exercise!) Before too long they're digging trenches and making hills.

 

I got about a quarter of the garden dug up (via shovel) when my brother and his daughter stopped by. He has the best timing! This is not the first time he has arrived mid-dig with no warning, and as usual, offered to help. Despite my (weak) protests, he took over digging while I raked the soil, and he ended up doing the rest. Otherwise, it probably would've taken me two days to finish.

Almost forgot to snap the "after" shot!

A couple days later my Dad (bless him) stopped by with his tiller and worked in some lime and organic fertilizer. "Wow, that worked up really nice!" Dad said. Yes, Dad, yes it did. Thanks to my brother and the trusty shovel! After the rain of this weekend, tomorrow we'll be able to plant some of the early plants. The boys are excited to start watching for baby veggies sprouting!

 The seed box

This month for our science project, we grew beans. You can look at all sorts of charts and illustrations, but nothing compares to seeing the real thing! It especially helps the boys to see how fast a tiny little seed becomes a plant. I simply took an old pickle jar, lined the inside with damp paper towels, and slid a pole bean between them and the jar.

Day 2

Day 4

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 10

Day 11

I told Aidan (our child who has a phobia of any green food) that we were growing them in the house so we could pick fresh green beans straight from the table for him. He was not a fan of the idea. 

Are you growing a garden?

The Blog Post That Almost Never Was

In my mind I see those couple friends, who've been on the receiving end of my vent-sessions one too many times, shaking their heads. Oh no, they think, there she goes again! I knew it wouldn't be long before it happened. I'm sorry, m'dears, I never intended to pull the crazy out so soon.

I'm going to try my hardest to keep my posts positive, to shine a light on the uplifting parts of life, and to not bring anyone down. Especially to not shame my loved ones. However, we all know that many parts of life are very far from uplifting and can be downright ugly. After all, there is no glory without the fight, right? Oftentimes the conflict in my own mind rivals that of a Jerry Springer show and is more depressing than Dr. Phil.

All this can be brought on by something as simple as a statement. Something like, oh...I don't know... "It's a great day to go golfing!" or "Remember I have bowling league tonight?" 

An involuntary "humph" escapes me, and I cringe, hoping it wasn't heard.

I don't think anyone can quite understand this like stay-at-home mamas, because for the most part, that's what we do. We stay at home. I so admire those beautiful souls who never seem bitter about the fun things their spouses get to do, who encourage get-aways and luxury time. I pray for the grace not to be resentful. I try really really hard not to be resentful, and the truth is, I really want him to go have fun. I'm happy when he gets to do something he enjoys, that relaxes him, that makes him feel like a whole person again. And I'm very sorry for poorly controlled comments, humphs, and eye rolls. My life really is easier when he's not stressed out. But it never comes without that slap-in-the-face feeling for me, the bitter resentment and self-pity, the ugly thoughts. "Why can't I go? Why do I have to be stuck here again? I need a break too!"

I do need a break. Every parent needs time to recover from their days, time to breathe after being clung to all day by sticky little fingers, quiet time to think after the constant chatter of the day. Finding the balance in all this is the tricky part. What works for one family will not work for another. Just because one mom gets regular pampered time doesn't mean it's right for me. We all have been given different temperaments, different strengths. I've found that when I am able to get away (it does happen occasionally) being gone all day has the same restorative effects for me as being gone just a couple hours. Babysitters get expensive when you have four kids, and frankly, are hard to find, especially last minute. And many times, doing something wholesome or educational with my boys is more rewarding than a me-centered outing. Plus, I get to bypass all the guilt associated with it. They really are walking around with pieces of my heart. Being there for them is what is required of me at this point in my life. I wouldn't trade that for anything.

I take a lot of my inspiration from a mom friend who has been through the "trenches" and emerged on the other side with her sanity intact. She has always been there to give me an encouraging word or sound advice. While this will never trump what my own mama has done for me, it deserves recognition. When I first became a mother she sent me a note with the advice to do something for myself every day. This was coming from the selfless lady who made rosaries for people on the way to Mass? I'll admit I was shocked. It sounded selfish! Weren't mothers supposed to be sacrificial? Doting? Selfless? How little I knew as a new mom. I started thinking back on what I had seen of this experienced mom's life. How she always seemed at peace, never complaining though her husband was often gone for work. She had more on her plate than many moms, with a large family to care for. I recalled bath time, when she settled down next to the tub with a book while three little ones splashed in the soapy water. It was then that it hit me: She was doing something for herself! It doesn't have to be something big or extravagant, just something.

He loads his golf clubs into the car. "MOM!" I hear yelled from the other room. "Baby pooped on the floor!" I take a deep breath as I grab the scrub pail and disinfectant. Freedom will come in time, when this season of my life is over. I will miss these years. But until then, I will relish every second I sit with my baby as he takes his naps, WITHOUT GUILT, and I will pick up where I left off later. And I will be slightly more sane than when I sat down, on the other side.

Ode to the Journal

After talking myself out of it for so many years, I finally decided that now was the time to start a blog. I have a lot of worries about what I don't want my blog to be...or become. I've seen my share of narcissistic ramblings that never fail to trigger goosebumps for me. How do you manage a blog without it becoming too self-centered? I'm reminded of a warning from St. Therese of Lisieux to never write about yourself. She did so only under obedience and with great reluctance. So, praying for the grace of humility from the Little Flower seems like a great place to start!

A blog is a great departure from the norm for me. I've kept journals religiously since I was 10....the pen and paper type, starting with memo pads, then hoarding the college ruled notebooks I was supposed to be using for my schoolwork, to pour my heart and soul into the pages. (Being homeschooled as an introverted teenager, with no sisters to vent to, led to some very dramatic, angst-filled entries.) Later I upgraded to actual bound journals. Very few were permitted a glimpse into them and then only grudgingly. If you have caused me any sort of drama at any point in my life, you most likely would find yourself in them. They've served as my confidante and therapist. Therefore, I need to keep in mind that this blog is not my journal, and keep the juicy stuff for the bound pages. At least most of it. How many bloggers have to stop and erase half a paragraph because they realize they're talking to themselves? I'm tired enough to start doing that!

The Space Between This and That describes how I've felt in most seasons of my life. It could be alternately titled "Not Quite There Yet". It's a common human plight to never be satisfied with exactly where we are in life, and most strive to reach certain goals or ideals for themselves. In high school I was stuck between my studies and dreams of what I wanted my life to be when I graduated. Currently I am in many spaces between, most obviously the space between the baby years and the years when my children will be grown, renting a house in town and buying our place in the country (still hunting!), and the space between skinny and fat. (Despite recently losing 33 lbs., most people would testify that I run much more to the chubby side of that space. Oh yes, there is also a special journal for that!) The Space Between is also a nod to Dave Matthews, of whom I am an avid fan. I am very passionate about certain things in my life, and in this Space I hope to chronicle those passions: homeschooling my four boys as a stay-at-home mom, living our Catholic Faith, crafting things, decorating my home, books I love (or hate), thrifting, and food. Welcome to my Space Between!