Thank you for the kind comments and well wishes regarding my frazzled feline encounter. I am feeling much better today - I can bend my finger slightly, the fever is gone, the red streak that was creeping past my wrist and meandering up my arm is now confined to my hand, and it only throbs if I lower it below heart level. I am amazed at how sore my arm is from the shot - no wonder babies get so cranky after their vaccines! This morning my dear sons offered commentary- one son noting that he has two pairs of heavy work gloves sitting right there by the scene of the climb and the other queried, Don't you know you're not supposed to grab an animal from behind? Apparently I have passed all of my brain cells on to them.
My dear evaluator called to say she had to move our appointment up from Friday morning to Thursday afternoon. So we are scrambling to get everything finished up even sooner. And for those of you homeschoolers who don't know what an Evaluator is, be sure you say an extra prayer when you go to bed tonight thanking God for the wonderful state you live in. One of the abovementioned dear sons also commented that by the end of my career as the Supervisor of the Home Education Program I will have compiled 70 portfolios! Apparently I have also taught him how to add. 70!
Kateri appears to be asleep so it's back to work! Goodnight and God bless.
If your new house suddenly starts dripping through the ceiling in the living room and this leak continues for months and even turns into a downright shower sometimes and your builder can't figure out where it is coming from until he finally realizes it's the crack in the shower stall upstairs in the master bath that you pointed out to him but he said couldn't possibly be the problem and he sends a worker to rip apart your lovely luxurious leaking shower, sending concrete and ceramic tile flying everywhere, so that the cat gets startled and frightened and runs away to hide in your teenaged son's room and you chase her all around the room to get her out of there and she goes berserk knocking over minotaur heads and swords and shields and starts climbing the walls and scrabbling up the windows, do not grab her.
Because if you do her razor sharp pointed teeth will sink into your finger and she won't let go for what will seem like an eternity and your finger and hand will turn red and swell up and you will need to take antibiotics and get a tetanus shot which will make your other arm hurt too so that you can't work on the fourteen custom rosary orders you have waiting nor the four portfolios you have to turn into the school district at the end of the week because you must keep your hand elevated and wrapped up in a heating pad.
Note that holding onto your full hot teacup while balancing it on your shoulder is a fine alternative elevated heat source and your children may even take pity on you and be extra attentive in keeping that teacup filled.
Also note that even if you usually abhor taking medications a bit of Motrin will decrease both pain and swelling so greatly that you can actually type some but not so much that you can string beads nor hold crimping pliers nor open and close three ring binders.
So while we're at the concert the other night Mary Rose leans over and whispers to me: We should hire someone to build a church behind the dirt mound in our yard and when Jonathan grows up he can be the priest there.
A few weeks ago Josiah started playing the guitar. He just spontaneously dug out Michael's old acoustic guitar, hidden away in its case since our college days, and started strumming away.
In typical Josiah form, he is teaching himself with the immersion method. He strums in the morning. He strums in the evening. When I trek upstairs to his room to see how the schoolwork is coming along, I am greeted with a new chord. I even caught him practicing the piano with the guitar on his lap.
What is it, anyway, about teenagers and counters?
In the evening he strums quietly, gently and not unpleasantly during the rosary.
When he is not strumming, and sometimes when he is, he plays Martin Doman. When it's his turn to choose the wake-up CD, it's Martin Doman. In the car it's Martin Doman. When we turn off the classical radio station because the afternoon talk shows have started - it's time for more Martin. We listen to so much Martin Doman, Eliza already knows the words to songs on his new CD:
Ma-ri-a! Mother (of mer-) cy! She sings.
So on Saturday night when we went to see Martin Doman in concert, I don't know who was happier.
The singing, dancing Eliza? The guitar-playing Josiah?
Or the rest of us enjoying the ever- inspirational, upbeat Martin Doman and a sax-and-flute-playing-Franciscan? How cool is that?
We used to have a little Mary garden at our old house. You can see in this photo from a couple of years ago how Our Lady was a lovely presence at many a tea party, keeping the girls and their numerous babies company. But her blue paint had grown faded and chipped, and she was in need of some refinishing. She has been cleaned and a coat of primer applied, and she rests peacefully in the garage until the final work is accomplished.
Though Our Lady is in the midst of restoration, there is no lack of Marian devotion here. As is often the case, the little ones lead the way. Every night when Eliza comes in through the garage, she must bid Our Lady a proper good night. Fondly addressing (Ma)'ria, she gets down on the floor to kiss 'Ria, and then hug 'Ria.
Then she lies down on the floor next to her for one final last snuggle for good measure, putting her arm lovingly around Our Lady saying, Night-night, 'Ria. 'Ria sleep.
We moved to our new house in March, the beginning of nesting season. We soon set Josiah to digging a hole for a post to mount a nest box. We had a pair of bluebirds move right in and build a nest, but they were soon intimidated by some tree swallows. So we mounted another box on the back of the pole, as bluebirds and tree swallows will supposedly nest peacefully back to back. The tree swallows promptly built a nest, and even lined it with their signature white feathers, but no eggs. We then set up another post on the other side of the yard with a third box, hoping to lure the bluebirds there. Of course the tree swallows beat them to it, white feathers and all.
The tree swallows went on to actually lay a clutch of five eggs in the new box. They politely removed the white feathers from their first nest, kindly letting us know they weren't planning on using it. The bluebird's nest went unused as well, covered with twigs from claim jumping wrens. On June 4th, four of the tree swallows hatched.
Feeling sorry for the blues, we put yet another post in the front yard with a brand new box on it. The bluebirds came and saw and constructed, but that's all. I eventually cleaned out the boxes that the swallows and wrens had rejected, and the bluebirds returned and built a new nest in the very first box we had put up! We are now waiting for the lovely blue eggs to hatch.
In the meantime, the swallows grew...
...and ate and ate and ate and grew. Lydia enjoyed attempting to monitor the boxes and getting dive bombed by the aerial acrobatics of the tree swallows. They make a zzzt-ing noise as they swoop down at you to chase you away. The neat thing about tree swallows is they will defend all of the nestboxes in their territory, so the bluebirds also benefit from their excellent policing. We actually had a house sparrow (ssssssss) show up in our yard the other day, but the tree swallows seem to have succeeded in driving him off. Quite a feat, as anyone familiar with house pests sparrows knows.
She did get some good photos of their graceful maneuvers, but the defensive parents wouldn't allow many photo shoots of the babies in the box.
And last night they fledged! Oh, they grow up so fast! We will surely miss them, but hopefully they'll be back to visit.
And although it may seem like time flies with our own children, thank heavens it doesn't go by that fast!
Eliza wanted a drink. She helpfully went to the cupboard and got herself a nice red cup and stood next to the refrigerator. Mama, milk! she requested. Someone had recently poured her a drink in a green cup so I fetched it off the table and presented it to her. She hung her head in dismay and gave a little sob, Mama, milk! I offered her the full cup once again. Sob. Finally she explained while holding out her cup, Mama! Red milk!
Everyone gathered around to see Eliza so cutely demand her red milk. Call me a bad mommy or even a jellyfish, but I poured the milk from the green cup to the red with a grin and gave it to her.
And Eliza beamed with pleasure as she replied, kank koo!
Remember, O Christian soul, that thou hast this day, and every day of thy life: God to glorify - Jesus to imitate - The Angels and Saints to invoke - A soul to save - A body to mortify - Sins to expiate - Virtues to acquire - Hell to avoid - Heaven to gain - Eternity to prepare for - Time to profit by - Neighbors to edify - The world to despise - Devils to combat - Passions to subdue - Death perhaps to suffer - Judgment to undergo.
Thanks for stopping by! My name is Kimberlee. I am a Catholic homeschooling mother of seven children ages 11 - adult. This is my place to share all these things I treasure, and ponder in my heart.
Lydia's New Book
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