an abundance of rainbows

2012-02-08T20:14:00.000Z

I have always been someone who lives for words. I spoke very early, I read very early, I wrote very early. Words were friends and playthings and bread of life for life: they were everything I needed. I was one of those children who would read the cereal box if that was all there was and I was always baffled when other children would try to insult me by saying I read the dictionary for fun, because "yes? so what?" was the first thing that popped into my head in response to that taunt.

But for me, words can also become a prison, building word upon word, thought upon thought, until there am I: locked in and shackled tight by words written, spoken, thought, read, heard.

And what I want most? What I need most, right now, is to simply be. On Monday, the children begged us to go out and play in the snow, and asked me not to bring a camera but to just play. So we played. We threw handful after handful of snow at each other, ran breathless up and down the sledding hill, chased each other...and for five minutes it was glorious but then I started describing it to myself, and the process of fixing it down with words ruined the moment, like a lepidopterist fixing down a butterfly with pins destroys what he loves.

Ever since I was a child I have talked aloud to myself, telling myself stories, "doing programmes" as I called it, trying on different personalities and weaving fantasies about being this person or that person, being better versions of myself, imagining tragedies ruining my life or all my dreams coming wonderfully true. I developed an extreme inability to "be in the moment" - I was always and am always thinking about what was and what will be, and not what is. It is a terrible waste of life and coupled with anxiety that sends my mind flying about moaning and bewailing like the White Rabbit, it means life is so much less than it could be.

I always had the radio on, all the time, and until I had children I had the same habit - constant background talking. My friend C always turned on every light in every room of her house when it started to get dark - and I think the radio had the same purpose for me. In recent years, a bit of an internet addiction has taken that role in my life - distracting, soothing but like taking painkillers rather than chemotherapy, it didn't cure anything. My apparent obsession with the thoughts and lives and experiences of other people over the internet has too often left my own life gathering dust on a shelf.

At the moment there is also a huge gaping wound in the centre of my life that needs my attention and devotion. I feel like the burden of that added to the general dissatisfaction I feel with how I fail to obey God as He says Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live has become too much.

I need to switch off the endless flow of words and thoughts and focus, slow down, re-connect with this beautiful life God made me for. I need to bring a meditative quality back into my life, simplifying everything and spend my labour only on what will satisfy me and my dear ones now and eternally. Isn't it a beautiful thing to light a candle and sit looking into the light, allowing one word or one thought to fill one's mind to the brim? I want to try and bring something of that holy experience to everyday life for a while.

So for 40 days I want to fast from the internet (including my blog - although I will be using email to complete a special project so those of you who speak to me on email or wish to get in touch - feel free to do continue/start to do so but it may take a little longer for me to respond while staying true to this experience).

For 40 days I want to feel free to be intentional and mindful as I live my life, to pray as if my life depends on it, to seek God with an open heart, to pay special attention to a handful of things, to give myself time and space, and see what happens: in my faith, with my marriage, in my own soul.

If I know God, even just what I perceive through a glass darkly, it will be beautiful and my soul will delight in the richest of fare!

2012-02-07T15:48:00.006Z

I've been pottering around playing with my camera today, looking for colour and "ordinary beauty" in between cooking, cleaning, teaching and all the other good stuff that fills our days.

It's been fun to have the big camera out again, after so long just lazily relying on the iPhone. It reminded me how meditative and inspirational it is to use a camera as a tool to make "art" of a sort - images that give me pleasure anyway - and also how time melts away behind the lens of a camera!

Our house has been busy, noisy, full of ideas and love and conversation and cuddles. I am missing that third child, the one we never even had but thought of, prayed for, prepared to welcome - that third voice, those third pair of hands, that third eternal soul is missed.

My heart and mind have been full. I have been grateful for a self-imposed colour hunt to distract me. Oz and I have plans to paint our rooms and fill them with more colour - and I am still baffled why I thought I had to avoid colour for so many years.

We played and sang and learned and giggled. Mouse used his 4 times table to work out how many legs the vet needed to bandage. Kitten started to squash together letter sounds and find they made words. We read about Boudicca and painted fiery pictures of her revolt.

I may have shouted and needed to apologise and hold a sobbing little girl who found me too fierce and scary for a few minutes. Being a mother is, for me, all about growing up myself.

We've been talking about the holiday we booked last night: a week on a farm at the very south western point of England later this year. The children keep saying "thank you, thank you!" and jumping up and down.

It is "posh camping": no electricity, lots of candles and woodsmoke, wood fired hot tubs, time spent walking and exploring beaches and ruins and islands and castles... I lay awake last night thinking what a wonderful opportunity this is for us, how it perfectly suits us and will fill our hearts and minds with memories and new thoughts for years to come.

None of us can wait. But we have to wait months and months and months!

There is still some snow, but it is all a matter of perspective: I was standing on an island of snow surrounded by grass and mud when I took this photo but it is hard to tell. Photos can deceive. Life itself can be deceptive, depending on where we focus our attention.

I often mock the doctor who told me I wasn't depressed, because he is generally very incompetent, but when he said "You are looking at the mud, when you could be looking at the buttercups" his words were a reminder to me of truth.

And just like I always tell myself that we need raindrops and sunbeams to make one of my beloved rainbows, it is equally true that the buttercups wouldn't be blooming if it wasn't for the mud that holds their roots.

Although, I think the doctor in question actually talked about cow pats and buttercups...

...which is funnier and more vivid. Maybe I should stop laughing about him with my husband and complaining about him to my friends. It's not every doctor who starts talking about cow pats with a sobbing woman, is it? He's special!

I don't feel depressed. Ground down sometimes? Well, yes. Fed up? Uh huh - don't we all? Life isn't all that easy for anyone, not really. And it is all to easy to stare at a cow pat and miss the glowing buttercups that fill life with beauty, and in reality - how blessed am I?

When the children sleep in my bed, I keep myself awake into the wee hours, one chick tucked under each wing, marvelling at the amazing and humbling privilege of being a mama to my sweet little ones, gifts from God's hand. I still can't believe my dreams came true and my prayers were answered. If I stop and think about it, I just start to laugh. That is real joy: laughing with amazement that prayers were answered and God wanted so much more for me than I could ever have planned.

And it is not just the kids: my loving and hard working husband, our funny poodle, our cosy home, our family and our friends, the shelves full of books, the baskets of yarn and needles, the richness of our faith, the abundance of memories, the wisdom gained...

When I think back on the ardent longings of my childhood and teenage years and compare them with the life I have now, all I am lacking are the hens, the spinning wheel and the fruit orchard. But I do have apple trees in the garden, I am planning to take spinning classes this year and we may have been looking up chicken breeds on the internet last night....

2012-02-05T09:16:00.002Z

This is the moment our children live for all year: that heartbeat between first opening the curtain and peeping out to find the whole world transformed and the sudden explosion of ideas and excitement. At six in the morning I was woken by Mouse gasping "It's a winter wonderland! Come see, my Doffa!" And then Kitten threw back the quilts and was at the window too, and the pair of them, hand in hand, jumping up and down shouting with joy.

According to Mouse, "there is no point in winter without snow - all you do is get cold for no reason. But winter with snow has a point. It doesn't matter if you get cold playing in the snow." So we wrapped up, popped Coco into a little jacket, grabbed the sled and headed off into the silence of a snow wrapped city.

It amazes me how people stay inside on such an exciting day: our first snow, and the only signs of life we saw was the blue flicker from telly being watched in some houses, the footprints of cats and a gritting lorry trundling along the main road. The park gates were locked so we couldn't go sledging, and we came home so Kitten, who had started making snow angels as soon as she was outside, could get warm and dry, and so Mouse could build a snow man.

Oh I wish we lived somewhere with more snow. I can't help getting thrilled and giddy by it. Last night I took ages to get off to sleep because knowing that snow was falling in the darkness was so exciting. Of course, it has its downside: my poor husband is having to walk all the way home from work, without any proper snow gear or boots, because the car couldn't get up the hill. And now that I am grown up I do worry about loved ones travelling and elderly people being shut it but mostly I want to squeal!

This was our little Coco's first snow fall since she came home, and she loved it, jumping about and snuffling her nose into the snow, and coming home wearing little snowball trousers, in need of a warm bath to thaw.

Now I am enjoying the cosiness of looking out at the snow while our chocolate chip and marshmallow bread and butter pudding bakes, waiting for Oscar to come home, and looking forward to going sledging with the children a bit later. When we were walking, Mouse and Kitten kept twirling round in delight, exclaiming "thank you, King Winter!" and I feel like I want to join them...

Thank you King Winter!

2012-02-04T00:38:00.002Z

[one of a whole series of photos Mouse took of Kitten with her claws out, ready to fight!]

Today has been filled with happy noise: from Coco barking as she and her doggy friends whirled about the field in a frenzy this morning, to the kids shouting and screeching while they played with the friend E who joins us for science and art lessons on a Friday (and, ahem, they did a bit too much screeching and playing through the science and lunch and art), and then J and I took the mad monkeys to the park again where they smashed ice and screamed and charged about.

Science was fun: with kids of 8, 7 and 4 it is all hands on stuff, and we are working with ice. So it is fun to astound small minds with something so simple as frozen water, and after lunch and our very energetic time scampering round the park looking for interesting berries, leaves and flowers to freeze in ice mandalas we came home and frosted candle holders with a sparkling mix of salt and white glitter. We do so enjoy our days with E and his mother!

I feel tired but happy. My head is aching a bit from migraine after pains, but I think it would be reverberating anyway after such a busy day following 2 weeks of slow, quiet, poorly days, so we're pretty pleased with the new painkillers. And when the groceries were delivered this afternoon, I found they had sent me two pots of miniature daffodils by mistake, and when I told the driver he said I could keep them. Happy day! And tonight I have two human hot water bottles keeping the sheets warm in the bed, and the poodle girl will crawl under the duvet and sleep on my feet so even if we do wake up to snow as perhaps we might, we shall be cosy and snug tonight!

2012-02-02T16:40:00.001Z

A truly terrible migraine had me either sobbing in my husband's arms or dozing in bed under the influence of new hardcore painkillers, so Candlemas has slipped away from us this year. Perhaps we could make candleholders as part of our home education mini science and art group tomorrow. Right now I feel very relaxed and mellow!

While my husband took Kitten shopping, Mouse helped pack away the nativity set which had remained on the mantelpiece and we burned the last sprigs of greenery which we had kept until today. And now the mantle looks so bare and awkward - while we wait for the box of statues to be brought down from the attic. But I am in no hurry. The "work in progress" nature of the mantlepiece feels right somehow. I am waiting, trying to work on myself and to be open to God working on me.

Oz lit a lovely fire and Mouse and his brown wooly sidekick took up their favoured positions, almost in the hearth among the ashes. It is funny watching my little boy grow up and I treasure all the sweet moments like overhearing him giving Kitten a spelling lesson or seeing him pull up his hood and try out a little swagger. But most I treasure those glimpses into his soul: when he goes silent and huge eyed after communion, or, like today, when without looking up from the fire and with Coco in his arms he asks "How do I know what God's will is?"

He wants to do God's will. And he leaps ahead in his mind to his adult years and wonders what his vocation will be. He sees two options and entirely naturally swings from welcoming and rejecting each by turn, but he doesn't want to get it wrong. He wants to do God's will but he has his own preference and what if God wants him to walk along the other path?

So again we have the talk about how God has a way of working things out, of how things will become clearer in God's timing with the help of people God will put in his life. "But how do I know?" he asks, confused. "God's will for you and for all of us, right now or when you are 101, is always the same thing: be the best person you can be, make the best choices you can make, do your best at the task at hand."

That reminder - that now the focus isn't on the priesthood or married life, for example, but on "do I eat the last bit of liquorice or share it?" or "do I put the clean laundry away or throw it under my bed?" - given by me to my child, becomes God's reminder to me. Am I being the best wife, mother, friend, sister, Chrustian that I can be? Do I make the best choices in any given circumstance and do my best at the tasks that are to hand?

I love how our children teach us and how us shepherding their souls allows God to shepherd our souls.

Reconnecting with God - work as meditation and prayer

2012-02-01T21:08:00.001Z

[our precious "babies", cuddling and watching a documentary about birds]

It had been one of those days: husband plucked from a cosy bed in the cold and dark because a baby was coming fast and the daddy, his colleague, was needed many miles away as soon as possible - children crying from the exhaustion, discomfort and sheer frustration of a virus that doesn't want to go away - the house itself all dejected and unloved while we try to get better - and worst of all, one horrible, shocking email followed by another one, someone attacking us in the tenderest spots of all: our daddy and mama hearts, attacking our faith, our family.

And that night, after the children were in bed, I looked around the sitting room, at all the chaos and disorder, and saw reflected in it my own heart. All my anger and sadness and frustration and fear had been boiling away all afternoon, leaving me feeling physically ill, and I had not turned to God, not prayed, not thrown Him so much as a thought. And, to be honest, I was acutely aware that right then I was not capable of prayer; actual, hands-together-eyes-closed prayer was beyond my capabilities, as much as a 100 metre sprint is beyond an athlete who never trains. I was so sad that I never seem to learn my lesson: that prayer, however quick, however much of a desperate cry up into the vault of heaven is supposed to the default option, the immediate and instinctive response. But I also know that there is no point lamenting passively - when the woman in the parable discovered the loss of her tenth silver coin, she just started searching for it, lamp and broom in hand.

So instead, harnessing the restlessness, I began to tidy, to clean quietly, by the light of table lamps and fairy lights, and let the work of my hands become a prayer, a connection with God. I plumped cushions, folded blankets and quilts, tucked well-loved books back into their allotted baskets, relocated my little artists' pencils to the crayon caddy, tackled an avalanche of paper, gathered up wooden blocks, hung stilts by their rope handles, swept the floor, washed dishes, retrieved socks and slippers and cardigans and dog toys and wooden saucepans from their hiding places, scrubbed counters. It was so quiet in the shadowy house, with children and dog sleeping, and every gesture, every movement felt so meditative and intentional. Overdue chores became prayer, all in a spirit of thankfulness and recollection and peaceful "just being", knowing that I was with God and He with me.

God turned a tired, discouraged woman in woolly slipper boots tiptoeing about tidying away all the play and creativity and messes of the day into a thankful woman - still tired and beslippered - appreciating the children who had played and drew, the dog who had emptied the toy basket, the friend who had sent the warm German socks, the husband whose hard work provided the comforts, the mother who pieced and quilted and crocheted, the meals that had dirtied the plates, the God who set it all spinning and watches attentively over it...He really is a God of miracles.

Reconnecting with God - His love

2012-01-30T17:08:00.003Z

[Kitten helps make spicy braised red cabbage]

Our funny little girl spent ages examining her big brother's piece of amber that has an insect in it. This treasure which Mouse received for his seventh birthday came in one of those clear plastic display boxes with a magnifying lid. Kitten kept looking at the amber through the lid and then would open it, take out the amber and look at it again.

"I don't know if it is big or small," she said. "It looks bigger in the box and smaller in real life."

Isn't that so true, of so much? Oz and I both chuckled at her perplexity.

Later I sat down with a cup of apple and cinnamon tea and thought about that grace and mercy, the compassion of a God who meets us where we are and takes mere intention and the ache of a sad heart, and lets it be prayer. This God who loves like nobody else can. It can seem so small when I look at it in one way - as words on a page, as a concept that I have always known, as a nice tight little doctrine about the love of God being limitless.

But when I think about Him and me? It makes tears come into my eyes when I think about His love and how He will not turn me away, now matter how much I may deserve it - no matter how often I imagine the human response of a turned back of angry rejection, the rolled eye of mockery and exasperation. I imagine sometimes how the woman taken in adultery must have felt face down in the dirt at the feet of Jesus, and I know that I have had those same moments face down in the dirt with the Lord who knows the full truth about the condition of my soul and mind and heart: that woman is no guiltier and no dirtier and no more ashamed than I am. I think about the feelings burning in the hearts of the men who dragged her there and flung her down before Him, and about Jesus - how He might felt, knowing everything she had ever done or said or thought, how He might have raised her to her feet with the hands of a working man, how He might have looked at her...

I let the tears come as I sipped the hot tea, allowed the immensity of God's love and forgiveness to fill my mind. It reminded me of the way earlier in the day, in the smallness of my human love for my child, I had gathered up an angry, tear-stained little bundle of frustrations, anger and fears onto my lap, knowing that what my little one needed was not a time out or a lecture but warm arms and love poured out like soothing balm. And a mother's love for her child - doesn't it feel blazing, enormous, potent enough to defeat death itself? But compared to God's love for His children even maternal love is like a mustard seed before a mountain - like a single raindrop before an ocean.

I am so thankful to be a child of God. My love for my children feels so immense and powerful, and when I consider how His love dwarfs that, I am overwhelmed at the true significance of baptism and becoming His child forever at that point.

2012-01-27T15:38:00.001Z

[funny photo of Pocket Mouse from Christmas Day at Mum and Dad's]

It's strange what can feel like an achievement? Is it normal to be proud of emptying the ironing basket? Is it bizarre that I am chuffed with myself for cooking a supper of oven chips, fried eggs, baked beans and horrid Walls sausages rather than ordering pizza?

It's too cold to knit tonight. I think I will snuggle with my poodle and a pot of tea, and just feel the peace and quiet soaking into me.

It feels so strange to see February slipping past so quickly. I need to sit down and make some plans or the month will have gone and we will be into March.

2012-01-26T22:46:00.000Z

I often find the times that are spent under blankets and quilts, dozing and staring at the ceiling, cuddling hot water bottles and feeling poorly, are actually oddly productive. Time to think, I suppose. Time to just let thoughts come and be examined and tucked up onto the shelves of the mind rather than just drfting away again.

Next month will mark 20 years from the first day I set eyes on my husband. I always say it was love at first sight - but of course, the way I felt then is nothing like I do after two decades of shared growing up together - although it is likely more accurate to say it was awareness at first sight. Awareness that he was mine and I was his, and awareness in that moment that there would be thorns as well as roses. What can I say? I was 17 years old and I didn't want any thorns - didn't want real, day-to-day, nitty-gritty, "when I'm 64" love. What I didn't know then was that I would come to love the raindrops as much as the sunbeams and that together they would make up the lovely rainbow of life I have been blessed with.

So I have been thinking about those 20 years while snuggled on the sofa with my littlest one. It seems a long time. Wednesday was the funeral of my godmother who died aged only 58 and that short but very full life she lived gives me pause for thought. Life is short and it should be lovely. And, as I was trying to write about yesterday, it should be full of satisfying, rich nourishment for mind and heart and soul, not empty spiritual junk food. I also want to mark my achievement in having been with my man for two decades, since I was a school girl, and while I am sure we will plan something for *us* I want to do something for me. So I am planning on giving myself the gift of 29 things to mark each day of February - not physical, material gifts for the most part. I plan to do things that will make my life better and lift my spirits and hopefully let me recapture just a little of that girl who saw a boy and just knew. So that is what I am planning and thinking about... nourishing my inner self spiritually and practically.

Reconnecting with God

2012-01-26T20:28:00.003Z

I am rarely honest. While I do tell some huge and awful lies, mainly my dishonesty comes in the form of mask wearing, of giving a mere glance towards authenticity and then hiding behind the prettier things in life. Partly I think it is a defence mechanism - because if one never faces up to the problem, to the deeply buried feelings, then in a sense those things do not exist. But it is also a limiting influence since how can I feel deep joy unless I also allow myself to feel deep pain or fear? Anxiety, which for me is really my inability to trust God, myself, those I love, becomes like a protective suit of armour, stopping me being hurt as I try to control my feelings and thoughts, but just like one imagines with a suit of armour, it also hinders and obstructs, weighing me down, acting as a barrier between me and those God made me to love.

For a long time I have been struggling, emotionally, and I have never really laid it all out here, because I want this to be a happy place for the most part. But I am aware that the real people I am writing for are my children, and the reason I try to keep things sunny is so that they can one day enjoy reading here and seeing something of their childhoods through my eyes. And those two small precious ones will struggle in their path through life. They will walk through dark valleys, as we all surely must, and I want them to know that Mama knows how it feels, and that actually the hard times truly can be times of blessing.

For so long I have been keeping myself distant from God. Since the week before the feast of Christ the King (about the second or third week of November) until after Epiphany I did not go to Mass or Confession. I barely prayed. To my horror (but an utterly passive, inert horror) Jesus became just another number in the cast of Christmas characters alongside Ebenezer Scrooge, St Nicholas, the elves and paying Him any attention was another Christmas chore along with baking, wrapping and decorating. Our advent was basically secular and it was not just the manger on the mantlepiece that was empty - Christmas felt so hollow, life felt so devoid of meaning. It was appalling.

But I was so sunk in a stupor that really I could not seem to rouse myself to care enough to do something about it. I would intend to get to Confession, I would plan to go to Mass - but there was always an excuse: usually weather, illness or emotional exhaustion and anxiety. I have a very bad habit of giving up at a certain point of anxiety or stress, grief or sadness: when it all seems as huge and relentless and implacable as an ocean, I can see no point in continuing to try to swim. I just think "what is the point of even trying?" and STOP. I just stop. I wait to drown. It always reminds me of the way that sailors did not learn to swim in the past, because being able to swim just prolonged the horror of drowning.

Just as those sailors must have ended up splashing and struggling when the instinct to survive kicked in, I start feebly trying to help myself, too. But of course, I don't throw my arms up to God, like a trusting child. No, I tend to self-medicate with too much time on-line reading about other people's apparently perfect lives, watch too many shows on the internet, eat too much...

But the wonderful, amazing, humbling thing about God is that He does not let go of us, not even when we run away, squander all He has blessed us with, and end up envying pigs their swill in some joy-forsaken corner. These words kept whispering in my ears: “Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live."

I suppose all of us have verses and passages that feel like they were especially written for us, and I have a few of them: Isaiah 55 is one of those "personal notes from God". These specific words in the first few verses (particularly the notion that I was "spending money" or wasting the gift of time and this life on what was essentially spiritually junk food that could never satisfy my hunger) would not leave me, and when I read the whole passage? Well, who could read Isaiah 55 and not be brought to their knees with repentence and love and joy and sorrow all intermingled?

And so God essentially placed Himself back in the manger of my heart - because He is always a God who takes the iniative and acts for us - and began the restoration of our relationship. Is it any wonder that I also feel God knew how much the story of the Prodigal Son would mean to me and how much I would need that image of a father rushing to meet the guilty one with open arms?

What all of this shows me - again, because I am a slow, slow learner and am still in Spiritual kindergarten - is that I need to be prepared for stressful and sad times. Who would have thought that God actually meant something by the Scriptures, and that the message of preparedness and being armed for a spiritual struggle was actually more than a nice image? I seem to have lost sight of that somewhere: that it is real and true and necessary, not just a bundle of history and poetry and stories.

I need to be able to hold on to the good and true things in hard times - to be assured of God's enduring love, to fill my mind with the treasures of the Scriptures, to know and imitate the examples of the saints, to carefully cultivate the fruits of the Spirit, and to trust that after pruning a heavier harvest will follow. None of that can happen in a vacuum - God has shown His children that He longs to bless us and assist us, but just as the boy in the Gospels offered his tiny, insignificant little lunch to Jesus and it became food for a multitude, I need to offer a gesture of my own. If only I will go to Him, and leave the "junk food" both literal and figurative, He has promised that I will be fed the "richest of fare".

And so I am trying to be faithful. I am trying to read my Bible, not on a schedule, not in any hurry but just sitting and being nourished by a couple of Psalms at a time. I am opening my heart and mind to God in prayer and praying with the children - again, not in a burdensome way but trying to be regular about it. I need to go to confession every month and to Mass at least once a week - and it needs to be a habit, something that just happens because it happens, but also it needs to the response of a loving heart, of my longing to be near God and with God. It is a delicate balance to keep these good and necessary things a matter of habit and routine but not let them become merely habit and routine. If I only prayed and went to church when I felt like it, I might very seldom do either, and yet I know I need to be in a relationship with Jesus Christ and not just with my own habits.

If you ploughed through all this, firstly, congratulations because you have wonderful powers of concentration, and secondly, how do you keep your relationship with God a living, loving one?

2012-01-13T09:10:00.002Z

A candle is burning today as we remember a dear daughter, wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, my darling Nana who went to the Lord ten years ago.

Eternal rest grant unto Dorothy O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.

Please say a prayer for her soul?

2012-01-03T23:10:00.004Z

We are still enjoying these last days of Christmas. In fact, the first days of christmastide were hard for us - we'd had some intensely difficult "shadows" hanging over us for the months, weeks and days preceeding, and Christmas day was the tenth anniversary of the last time I had seen my darling nana before she went to be with the Lord. But Christmas always comes to waiting hearts, even to hearts that are cold and have turned to stone. Our manger, which should have been filled with the first gift to be opened on Christmas day stayed empty - and really it was such a potent symbol of the state of my heart - until eventually the children climbed the bookshelves to retrieve the box that held the Baby Jesus. That manger, now occupied, now filled, remains such a powerful symbol.

The children have loved our tree this Christmas - last year we had a teeny little tree and many of our decorations were never even unpacked, but Oscar happened upon a real beauty that was being sold for pennies on the pound, and he brought it home in triumph. The children were allowed to decorate it on their own, and needed to make more decorations! Mouse was so pleased to have a real tree!

Most of our time was spent around the fire, playing game after game, listening to stories, and after the children have gone to bed, Oscar and I have been watching Poirot films. There has been something so lovely about having so many long, slow, comfortable days together as a family. And while I love all the gifts we were given, that really was the best present of all.

Knitting and listening while Oscar read to us or we played old detective stories on the internet radio, I have been doing so much thinking. This new year feels so exciting, and I am still recovering from all the sadness and stress of 2011, but little plans are being slowly pieced together for our year to come. 2012 will not be the year I imagined it being - it seems there will be no third little" pea in our pod" after all - but it can be blessed and full and lovely all the same.

Thursday will see our tree come down, and this little chap (made many years ago for me by my great grandmother; all of us girls have one, and they hung together on my parents' tree and now hang in solitary splendour in our own homes), will be packed away with all the other lovely decorations and then the new year will feel like it really begins. I've been decluttering and organising and making plans, and I am starting to feel so excited for what the months to come will mean in our lives.

2011-12-30T17:19:00.001Z

It made me grin with genuine joy to get up from a supper of delicious beef stew, leaving the dishes to my husband, and walk through to find the fire purring, the tree twinkling, the candles glowing and my knitting basket waiting on the rocking chair drawn up to the hearth. Ah, this is the life!

2011-12-21T19:28:00.002Z

There had been lots of running up and down stairs, lots of asking what "a Joseph" could wear, begging for a soft white blanket, and then two little voices calling "Mama, come and see! Come and see our crib!"

And there they were in the shadows at the foot of the unlit, undecorated Christmas tree, Mouse's old knitted doll Mr Bill wrapped in a hand towel, both of them swathed in blankets, kneeling in prayer at the crib.

It was so breathlessly real to them, and their tender absorbtion in the nativity story, in being the adoring Mother and watchful guardian, caught me up too. We all knelt in the candlelight for some time until at last I quietly stood up and got the camera and clicked a few times to capture the moment for posterity as surely it was held in my heart as a precious memory.

How thankful I am for our little ones and the way they hold the true meaning of Christmas - God's unfathomable love for us and our echoing love for Him - so securely in their grasp.

2011-12-18T23:14:00.003Z

Today was Coco's first birthday. The children were very excited and we bought her a special can of food, stuck a candle in it and thought we would get to sing happy birthday and she would maybe let me get some pretty photos of her.

But she just attacked it!

And all of us were laughing our heads off while simultaneously shrieking that she would set herself on fire.

[Oh look at her licking her lips!] Between me shaking with laughter and her writhing madly at gnashing at the plate/food/candle, every photo is a blur.

But they make me happy... How blessed we are to have such a cuddly, wooly, funny little poodle girl in our family. We love you, Brown Eyes.

2011-12-15T00:40:00.002Z

So somehow he is 8. I can't believe it and yet, in the strides he has taken in so many areas, I see the signs of someone growing up. As he tells us, he can't help it - God makes him grow. And then sometimes my big lad will climb into my lap and tell me he feels "too big".

Right now he is all about knights, pirates, archaeology, spies and detectives. He has a notebook that he keeps under his pillow for detecting purposes and he showed it to me today. It said "Nole wos merded. he has a bolit in his hed. his wolit is gon. he had a rooby in his wolit." [Noel was murdered. He has a bullet in his head. His wallet is gone. He had a ruby in his wallet] And the list of suspects read "~~Mouse~~ - Kitten - Mama - Dada - Macentosh - Profeser Moriartey"
And then there was a page he didn't want to show me but I peeked and it read "strangeled? Daga? Gun?" with pictures of each weapon and a tick next to gun. He has plans to write a Sherlock Holmes story about Nole's murder, set in a ruined house in the aftermath of an earthquake, apparently.

I love my imaginative, funny, passionate, devout, stubborn, anxious, creative, caring, droll little boy so much.

We are so blessed to know you and love you and kiss your freckled nose, my darling M! North, South, East and West, wherever I go, my boy is best!

2011-12-11T09:39:00.001Z

For the chance to take Mouse and Kitten to experience the wonder of hearing Elgar's cello concerto, I rose from my sick bed, swathed us all in copious amounts of wool and we walked through the frosty night to a concert hall.

And Oh! - despite our tiredness, Kitten's fidgeting and endless random questions ("how do you make milk?" and "what is squinting?" were my favourites!) and Mouse starting to fall asleep - it was so worth it.

The children - him in amber cufflinks, her in two strings of pearls - reacted so beautifully and sensitively to the music, and I got to sit and watch their little faces as the music swept them away.... How lucky am I?

Pleasures of advent

2011-12-06T08:37:00.005Z

* big mugs of piping hot cocoa with candy canes and marshmallows and whipped cream sipped around the fire while Oz reads The Hobbit or I read Hawthorne's Greek myths.

* listening to Smooth Christmas on the radio every time I cook a meal or wash dishes, and hearing the children singing "Can you see what I seeeeeee?" as they play in the dining room.

* Making this funny little wreath with the children - from a ring of willow we wove together in the summer and quite a lot of green buttons, hot-glued on at the cost of some scorched fingers, and a little felt Christmas tree.

*laughing insanely with the children as we watch Home Alone.

* little fingers busy re-telling the Christmas story

* getting a free mincepie at Starbucks!

* singing carols - as part of our circle time, when on walks, just because...

* admiring the paperwhites blooming and pots of crocus bulbs waiting in dark cupboards to come on stage when these flowers fade

* bringing out the advent and Christmas books and the CDs of carols, and remembering just how lovely this time of year is.

* sewing and knitting and crocheting - the many joys of making things for the people I love, and hoping that it will all get done and look at least partially the way I had intended.

* the advent "wreath" - four jars lavished with tissue paper and glue a couple of years ago when I couldn't afford anything else, on a cake stand with holly and bay leaves, and it makes us happy so we keep bringing it out!

* watching Kitten leap about to "the crack a nut music" and very seriously demonstrating what a good ballet dancer she is.

* Christmas cards arriving and reminding us of friends and family we don't see that often.

* Sitting painting cards with the children

* the lovely advent calendar my mum made the children.

* all the fun of St Nicholas' day - and taking Kitten to see a mall Santa, whom she tore off a strip for leaving ashy footprints on her floor.

* Special novena prayers by candlelight.

We have been saying the St Andrew Christmas prayer, and it is helpful to sit gazing at the empty manger on the mantlepiece, repeating over and over, "Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold" - giving my focus to the very point on that holy night when the Lord was born and being kept, in my heart, kneeling in the straw of that stable.

Because nothing else matters. All that clutters my mind at this season - trying to keep healthy, menu planning, shopping lists, sewing and knitting, the cards I need to send, the friends I want to reach out to, the events and activities, the bustle around Mouse's upcoming 8th birthday, the many emotions that flood through me thinking of those we have loved who have gone to Christ already and of the biological families of our kids, guilt at how much we have and how little we do for others, all the visits we should make - yes, all of that needs to fade into the shadows while my mind and soul linger in the lamplight of the stable and the Christlight shining from the manger.

The darling of the world is come,
And fit it is, we find a room
To welcome him.

Robert Herrick

2011-11-16T14:07:00.003Z

We've been having fun enjoying the autumn. We had our circle time at the park the other week and it was so much fun to be singing about leaves and trees out there among them. And as we enjoy the autumn, we are thinking ahead to the winter: to the fun and excitement of Mouse's birthday and to the rich joys of Christmas.

We celebrated Martinmas with the other children from Forest School, walking in an ancient piece of woodland in the heart of the city - there is something so beautiful about the lanterns in the darkness. Soon there will be other lights - pretty white lights in the windows, advent candles...

My baby sister came to spend time with us on Saturday. It was so lovely to see her. My lovely sisters are a gift to the whole family, especially to the children, who adore their aunty C and aunty K. Can you see the pink finger knitting around K's neck? Kitten has been working on it for weeks, and calling it a scarf, she gave it to her aunty: a true labour of love.

In the garden, the leaves have turned brown on the oak and the apple tree is dropping golden leaves. Jays are frequent visitors, feasting on acorns, squabbling with each other. Soon all this will be over - and we are busy with plans for advent, for gifts, for feasts, for drawing closer to God at the holy time that is fast approaching. I am so eager for advent and Christmastide, and want to get prepared in advance as much as possible so we can truly drink in all that the season has to offer spiritually, but at the same time I want to enjoy the last couple of weeks of the old year and all that autumn is still bringing to us.

It is all so wonderful....

2011-11-12T23:48:00.002Z

We planted bulbs on Friday. It seemed an appropriate activity, for that day and this month, and as we buried each bulb in the ground we talked about how lovely it would be when it came to life next spring - and how that reminded us all of human beings, and when we are laid to rest we need to remember the beautiful eternal spring that awaits us.

We planted dwarf narcissi Minnow and Babymoon, and dwarf tulip Für Elise. The latter is for Oscar - he has a running joke about how Beethoven's Für Elise is pronounced "fur elsie"...so it made me smile to see the name on some tulips. It will be interesting to see how many of the bulbs the children planted actually flower - but we are hoping for a pretty spring time garden!

2011-11-06T15:37:00.004Z

Our first fire of the year: the beloved purr and crackle of a log fire, fascinated puppy, little toes toasting on the hearth, dada re-reading "The Hobbit" aloud to us, baskets of knitting and mending out, mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. Isn't life lovely?

It feels like such a small "simple pleasure", this first fire of the year. And yet really what a huge thing it is to have a family, a home, a hearth, health to enjoy it, the luxury of a pet, an open fire, heaps of hand sewn, knitted, crocheted, pieced and quilted cushions and comforters, shelves full of carefully chosen books to select a read aloud from...

These are the golden days...

2011-10-31T20:30:00.004Z

[Kitten's pumpkin is on the cake stand at the back of the photo, their friend E designed the sharp-toothed pumpkin at the front, and Mouse came up with surprisingly benevolent chap on the right]

This year, after almost two decades of thinking hallowe'en was probably evil, I remembered the happy, spooky hallowe'ens of my own childhood and how I did not grow up to be a satanist, and so our kids got to enjoy a day of fun and too much sugar without needing to dress up as saints or carve holy pumpkins. Our witch and witch's cat had a blast!

From a breakfast that included special spooky drinking glasses and cadbury's screme egg in their egg cups (as well as big healthy bowls of homemade granola) to an afternoon of frolics with their friend E, bobbing for apples, carving pumpkins, decorating cupcakes, dressing up and sharing supper together to an evening of dancing up and down the garden path in the dark handing out candy and shrieking out "come trick or treat us!" at passers by - they have gone to bed exhausted and happy. Just as it should be!

Spooky, spooky, spooky! "Come and trick and treat us!"

Robert the Bruce

2011-10-27T20:25:00.002+01:00

We've been working on Saints and Heroes this month. The saints and heroes we have been learning more about have had lessons to teach us about honesty, perseverance and committment. Today and yesterday we have been discovering Robert the Bruce and his spider. I couldn't resist taking video as the children re-told the story to me with the spiders we made together.

[Please excuse the messy bedroom - it's all topsy turvey today!]

2011-10-14T09:18:00.003+01:00

Ah! The satisfaction of giving my child something made with my own hands is only surpassed by creating something that is the product of my own mind. I loved inventing this pattern for my darling Mousie, especially as it helped me use up some truly heinous yarn that I could not bear to knit in the proper guage as it produced such a flimsy cloth. This jerkin is warm, bright, snuggly with a touch of "gnomeyness" - perfectly suited for our lovely chap on all his woodland adventures and journeys this autumn.

2011-10-11T19:55:00.002+01:00

The peaceful days of autumn are passing. I think we have harvested (or in Kitten's case eaten)
the last of the raspberries. My knitting needles and the children's sewing needles are busy each day. We are enjoying lovely books together, and walking in the windy, sunny afternoons. It is a good life.

My favourite kindergartner and her little brown side kick are spending happy times together, looking at books, playing, and she joins in with parts of Mouse's lessons, especially those parts that involve painting. And tomorrow will mark four years since the first time we held darling Kitten in our arms: as I tucked her into bed tonight, I wept all sentimentally and told her that four years ago I had never met her and now I couldn't believe there was ever a time when she wasn't the centre of my world.

2011-09-30T17:02:00.000+01:00

I haven't made a note of our creation/nature table yet, this year. This is what we have at the moment. The beautiful feathers are from parrots and other exotic birds, and the little gnomes are well looked after with their fly agaric table and stools and the paper lanterns lighting up the scene, just right for entertaining their friends Hedgehog and Mousie to an autumn feast. The children have collected some treasures from nature apart from the feathers - conkers, acorns, sweet chesnuts, hazelnuts, beech nut cases and a wasp nest. And just tucked away almost out of shot is our deer antler, reminding us of the princes of the forests and hills.

2011-09-29T16:32:00.002+01:00

Today we celebrated the feast of the archangels. The children's imagination is captured by the idea of the seven archangels before the throne of God, and especially of these three mighty friends. We had so much fun making these angels with their leaf-rubbing wings.

Mouse was responsible for the Archangel Michael, the prince of angels and protector of the Church, in his flame coloured robes. My archangel was Raphael, who brings healing from God as his name reveals and prompts happy meetings. Kitten created the Archangel Gabriel, who told of the coming of St John the Baptist and the Lord Jesus Christ, honouring the angel of communication with royal purples and pretty pinks.

We love all three of these archangels, but is has to be said there is no angel better suited to harness the enthusiasm of a would-be swashbuckling 7 year old boy than Michael, to whom we address the heart- and soul-stirring words:

Saint Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;
and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host -
by the Divine Power of God -
cast into hell, satan and all the evil spirits,
who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Blessed Pope John Paul II asked that we not forget to use this beautiful prayer that was written by another pope, Leo XIII, and which used to be said after Mass all over the world, reminding us of how real the battle against the powers of darkness is.

It is a powerful, beautiful prayer, and we are using it today as we think of Yusef Nadarkhani, the Iranian Christian who is facing death unless he renounces his faith. May the angels be with him as St Michael was with St Joan of Arc in her imprisonment and trials.

2011-09-28T11:23:00.004+01:00

It was my birthday. I am now so old that, according to Mouse, Oscar has no option but to only give me one candle on my cake because there simply would not be enough room to include the appropriate amount. Ahem. Apart from the insults to my decrepiditude, I had a nice day: we went out on a boat, up the river, which was beautiful.

Both the children had a go at steering our little vessel, and they did very well. Me? I sat down for a moment, panicked and scrambled to get to my feet and retreat to the back of the boat again. But the 7 and 4 year olds did amazingly!

The children loved being on a boat, and soaked up the unexpected warmth and sunshine.

Little Miss Coco came with us, as she still struggle with being left, and proved that she was a born sailor.

We saw grebes, herons, cormorants, many geese, swans, and had two highlights: one was seeing two gorgeous kingfishers in their brilliant turquoise and flame coloured plumage, flashing along the river, and the second was seeing (albeit indistinctly) an otter playing in the water. And got to eat delicious brie and crusty bread while the children fed ducks.

It was a lovely way to spend my birthday: with those I love best.

And something about the serenity of a dark, quiet river endlessly journeying between green-grey banks of reed dotted with yellow willows is so soothing to the soul.

Being another year older and wiser is not so bad. I am trying to cultivate the attitude my children have - of excitement and envy for people who have grown so very big, like my darling dad who has just turned 65. It is good to grow, and so it is good to grow older, and richer in experience, wisdom and knowledge. And the best part to me is that I get to share my pilgrimage with these wonderful people.

2011-09-19T19:48:00.002+01:00

Today was our first day of "school". As first days tend to, it went beautifully. The children found new craft supplies and new story books waiting for them, we said extra prayers, they squealed with excitement at all the right points, we had our playmobile school children and candles on cupcakes, and we got everything done that we needed to do. We even went out to dinner to celebrate.

Much like the second novel or second album, the second day of "school" can be tricky, so we will see how we all feel tomorrow, but right now we are all happy and enthusiastic and so thankful for the lovely adventure of learning together at home.

2011-09-18T09:18:00.005+01:00

To celebrate Dada being home again, we went out to a small zoo: we generally love smaller zoos, where there is less to see and more time to savour it all. We were the first people in, so we got the place to ourselves for a while and saw the animals waking up for the day in utter peace and quiet.

We had a lovely time.

It was good to make the day stretch - look at animals, have a play, look at the animals again, have another play...

The animals were of course the stars. They gave us so much to giggle over, wonder at and be impressed by: the cleverness of the capuchin trying to unlock it padlock, the colours of the parrots, the bubbles streaming from the thick fur of the otters as they performed their underwater dance, the amazing nose of the tapir, the antics of the racoons! But so much to feel sad about too: these amazing animals don't deserve captivity. I suspect we won't be going to any zoo again, either.

But, there is always something to smile about with my darlings around, and it was so good to have Oscar home again!

2011-09-18T09:10:00.002+01:00

After ten days in Germany and nearly 1700 miles of driving, Oscar is home again! When I heard his key in the lock on Friday night my heart leapt for joy. He was very much missed but the children and I had a very happy ten days on our own which was a little miracle! I was so proud of how well the little ones coped since they don't do well with change usually, and pleased with how much we managed to do and how the house was full of laughter and singing while he was gone.

2011-09-15T16:17:00.003+01:00

A surprising sign of hope in our garden: the apple tree that we thought was dead [but did not want to dig up as it was planted so close to where our dear Daisy is sleeping in Mother Earth's arms] has new leaves and blossom on it. The children are calling it a miracle from Daisy. It did fill my heart with joy. The last nine days have been unusual ones for our family but it is only one more sleep until things are back to normal, and we are all very happy and the blossom on the tree was like a mirror of what is happening in our hearts. I have been so delighted by how the little ones have handled these challenging times and am thankful for how well it has all gone, but it will be so good when normal life resumes tomorrow night!

Yesterday we had a lovely time visiting our friend J and her son E, and today we drove over to see Niany, the children's grandmother, and we enjoyed having supper with Kitten's godmother and her three lovely daughters this evening. So really we have been very busy and happy. Mouse completed his waldorf maths "camp" yesterday and he and Kitten received a bag of gems each from the gnomes as a reward for their hard work and co-operation. Mouse now has had a chance to go over some first grade work in Steiner-style maths, and is keen to carry on come next Monday - we will not use the Christopherous squirrels because gnomes and gems just meet him where he is so beautifully. And Kitten is fired with excitement at getting her own stories written for her when she is in first grade.

Mouse recently knitted this for a friend and we took "ta-dah!" photos today - her birthday was in August but we are only now catching up and hoping to see her on Monday and I so often forget to take snaps until the things we have made have been gifted or have become familiar. If she could only know the hours of laborious work which Mouse patiently put into this gift for her, she would be honoured. I am so proud of how he persevered and how he was so self-motivated on this piece of knitting.

My Kitten sewed this little "Blackberry gnome" for their friend too. I needlefelted the beard and body a little but she did the rest, every stitch except the first and last ones. I am very proud indeed of her careful and neat work: for a 4 year old she sews beautifully.

2011-09-13T21:54:00.004+01:00

Yesterday was a fun day. We headed out to the park and Kitten asked Mouse if she could ride his bike - he kindly allowed her to and I was so impressed by her! It was the first time she rode a bicycle and Mouse "designed" his own bike, asking Oscar to put wide handlebars on it which makes it hard to steer, but all she wanted was to be steadied until she was seated and then off she would go on her own frantically pedalling and drifting in circles, and each time she fell off she popped back on again, with a smile on her face. I think it was that grin that broke my heart: she fills me with pride for her positive attitude and perseverance.

The big brother made me glow with pride too, as he helped steady the bike and ran after her, yelling encouragement. What a sweetheart he is!

These past few days Mouse has been telling me each night "I will be smiling in my sleep, Mama" - as he has been looking forward to different fun things. This afternoon we had a visit from some new friends - little boy, little girl, toddler and a mum who is interested in home education - and we all had a nice time talking or playing. It is always fun to meet people who are interesting and have similar values and ideas but with their own fresh perspective. And C, the mum, paid me a lovely compliment, saying that the house was soothing and calm - which is just what we aim for, so it was encouraging to hear that we are getting it right. Tomorrow we are having lunch with E and his mum followed by ballet, and on Thursday we are going to L, M and P's house for supper: we are having a social whirl!

As for me, I am sitting delaying going to bed because it is so funny to watch little Miss Coco chasing her own tail so enthusiastically that she is falling off the sofa time after time!

Happy Sunday

2011-09-11T15:56:00.006+01:00

The children and I wandered out to buy croissants for breakfast, with little Miss Coco wagging her feathery tail at our sides, and on the way home the children filled bags with conkers, which they lovingly carried home, washed and played with almost all day in the September sunshine. I love how something as small and seemingly insignificant as pulling some bags from my pocket and saying "do you want to gather a conker harvest?" can make their day so completely and utterly thrilling. That and wearing their wellies! It rained last night, and yesterday I bought Mouse some new welly boots and Kitten inherited his old ones, and wearing those to jump and slosh their way through the puddles was like Christmas morning. And, it has to be said, an almond croissant and a pot of coffee made my morning too!

We seem to have evolved into a habit of attending a late afternoon Mass held in a different, much smaller but very pretty church, and we went there this evening. It was good just to be in church, and oh how much did I need to remember about God that "He will not always strive with us, nor will He keep His anger forever. He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor punished us according to our iniquities. For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is His mercy toward those who fear Him; As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us." (Psalm 102)

I honestly felt as though I could hear the voice of God as I sat listening to the readings today. They had much relevance to me in my own life and with regard to some of my own besetting sins, and in a world so full of vengeance, hatred, and inability to see God in those around us and on a day as heavily weighted with memories and emotions as this is, every reading at Mass seemed like a reminder to all of us - to forgive, to live at peace, to find the strength to allow ourselves to let go of anger and find healing.

My little man has a habit of saying sorry nervously all the time with a deep seated attitude of feeling bad and wrong, and as we sat together listening to the readings at Mass, I wanted to be sure that he knows this God of overflowing mercy and tender love will never turn His back on him. Mouse can feel so threatened just by a tone of voice or his own fears of what might happen, and I know he has to know this beautiful Lord who is "merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in mercy". I think, like many people [myself included], Mouse feels angry very often and so he imagines those around him and God Himself will be angry too. Helping him let go of his anger and find that mercy and love await him is such a huge task but I can start showing him the way by letting go of some of my own carefully nourished anger and finding ways to remind Mouse that God is like the Prodigal's father, running to meet us, full of love and mercy and forgiveness.

[It is late and I am off to bed. Happy and very glad that it is Sunday which means Friday is closer than ever!]

Trip to the beach

2011-09-10T17:15:00.006+01:00

The children and I went to the beach with the puppy today. It was lovely - not too hot, not too cold, a nice breeze blowing off the sea and the sea fresh and envigorating when we splashed and played in it.

We dug, paddled, collected shells, made sand pictures, and Coco played with other dogs - although she had to go back on the lead after she ran into the sea and was knocked off her feet by the waves, rolling up on the beach soaking wet and sandy. I was really happy to find another cowrie shell - I've only found one other in my whole life. Mouse made a self-portrait in seaweed and stones, and Kitten ran about dragging Coco in her wake.

After we had played our fill, we returned to the car, stopping to gather elderberries to make syrup from, and then we went to visit Nanny, Pop-pop and Aunty K who had returned from holiday in Italy yesterday and had been out shopping with Mum. It was lovely to see our family and Coco had a wonderful time playing with Miffy, my parents' toy poodle puppy: at one point Coco had Miffy by the leg and was trying to drag her about as if she actually was a toy in more sense than one but Miffy didn't seem to mind and was like Coco's little shadow, following her around obsessively.

And now we are home, cosy in PJs, and feeling ready for an early night. Yawn. Sea air does seem soporific.

2011-09-09T13:52:00.005+01:00

Today after a wobbly start to the day, we went out for a lovely autumnal walk. First we went to the heath, one of our favourite destinations, but memories of the wild ponies who had surrounded us and eaten our picnic on the last visit proved too much for Mouse, so we went to a nearby wood instead.

I love September - when the long grass is still whirring with crickets and the heather, gorse and many wildflowers are splashing the woods with colour, the speckled butterflies are still fluttering, but at the same time the hedges are full of blackberries and elderberries, and the rowans are loaded with their scarlet fruit, and the fungi are silently appearing, mysterious and other-worldly among the wet grasses and fallen leaves. We saw so many gorgeous fungi - enormous great solid ones that really could be tables and chairs for gnomes, little frilly ones, colonies of them like turretted cities, and every colour imaginable: from chalk white to sulphur to burgandy to scarlet to purple.

For a long time we walked in silence, listening to the wood and watching for deer, and it did my heart good to see the children play together and find such joy in simple things: a puddle would be a river, sailed by stick and bark boats; some burnt patches were dinosaur parks where they roared and chased each other; a blackberry bush was an excuse to "go harvesting for winter storage". As Mouse said, it is a pity that all children can't have so much time to enjoy nature and learn from her.

Now after a rousing game of "Pirates' Blast" [a nice new Haba game from Daddy that they loved - you puff with little bellows to make ships sail and cannons fire: what could be better?] both children are alternating between peacefully colouring in pictures of roman soldiers [Kitten in crown and princess dress!] and browsing the pages of our mushroom books, yoghurt is doing its thing in a thermos in the kitchen, I am sipping coffee, and Miss Coco is asleep on a cushion. Ah, I love my life!

Happy Birthday!

2011-09-08T16:41:00.002+01:00

We had a little party today to celebrate the birthday of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The children made a little altar display of some of our statues and artwork that honours our beloved "Mama Mary" and helped prepare the food and games to welcome some special friends to come and have fun with us: another home educating family and Kitten's godsister who is off to start school soon but was still free to come and play on a weekday afternoon for a little bit longer.

We had a lot of fun. We read "Take it to the Queen" and made felt crowns because we are Mary's children and she is Queen of Heaven, ate party food, played party games, did some art, and made a little collection of baby clothes to send to the Sisters of the Gospel of Life since we couldn't give Our Lady presents for her special day.

My little Prince and Princess after a long afternoon of play - being Catholic is lots of fun!

2011-08-27T22:14:00.002+01:00

We had a beautifully creative day today. When I woke up I could hear peaceful voices drifting up to me from two little artists who had convened at the dining room table and were painting watercolours together. Later Kitten made an aeroplane from paper and string, and after a walk at the park with their Aunty C, the children did leaf rubbings and drew in nature journals. Kitten took photos of her playscape se created with the new gnomes I made the children, Mouse sewed up a "pretend finger", we made yoghurt together and tonight I have been painting wooden mushrooms and knitting. There is something so peaceful and nurturing about days like these, and the natural, organic creativity that just happens during the day.

2011-08-26T20:39:00.002+01:00

We had a lovely visit from some fellow home educators and (I hope!) new friends. There is something so restorative about talking home education with other people who value the adventure of learning at home with our small people.

We have been experiencing some pressure to put our four year old in school this September, for reasons that make me roll my eyes and even snort a little in exasperation but at the same time
it triggers my anxiety that I might just Get it All Horribly Wrong for our children.

Actually, in my heart, I feel good about keeping our Kitten at home. She loves her play dates, her sports group, her dance class, but even more she loves pottering at home, experiencing her life through play and finding such riches in the simplest of things. She is so little really, and while she needs a break from turmoil, she also needs the chance to be little and safely tucked away in her nest here at home. We have been making plans, dreaming dreams and re-organising for the new academic year. We bought the Christopherus 2nd grade package for Mouse, and Kitten will be in kindergarten. To try and help Mouse gain confidence with maths, which is probably his weakest area since numbers don't make much sense to him, we have been holding our Waldorf Maths Camp - going over first grade concepts to supplement his former maths curriculum.

There has been something so nurturing about watching the children enjoy the container story that is carrying Mouse through his maths work, listening to fairy tales, drawing and painting and, for Mouse, actively exploring numbers. He has been following the adventures of Peregrin, a treasure seeking boy, who has solved riddles as he learnt about the qualities of numbers to gain access to the magical land of Numberia, where he is helping the gnomes. Oh my goodness, how my boy loves gnomes and gems! We were so happy to find the local crystal shop sold bags of small crystals so Mouse is working with real pieces of amethyst, jade, quartz and so on, which just delights him to bits. And while he is working on sums, Kitten is playing with the gems and gnomes too.

I hope when we start work in earnest in September, the gentleness, creativity and fun will continue and we can all thrive as we learn and play together at home this coming year. And talking to G today helped enthuse me again about what it is we love about home education - and making a window star together has me craving a new supply of kite paper so bad!

Guest Post by Mouse: My quill pen

2011-08-23T12:23:00.002+01:00

When Mama took me to the park, we found a feather. We think it is a feather from a swan, because it was so big and white, and we found it in the area where the swans preen. We made it into a quill pen, by cutting the end of it.

It is good to write with a quill pen, but it is hard at the same time. The ink runs out quickly. It was fun working with a quill pen but I am glad we have different pens nowadays because it would be harder to write, but even so it is fun somedays.

2011-08-19T14:55:00.004+01:00

Yesterday morning, our darling little Daisy crossed the rainbow bridge and went to doggie heaven. It was very sudden and very traumatic. She hadn't been 100% her usual self, having growled at the children and snapped at me the night before. We put it down to her aches and pains and the fact that her sight and hearing losses meant she was easily taken by surprise and scared by sudden cuddles from our daughter and all the darting about that goes on with children in the house. Sadly, yesterday morning, Kitten took her by surprise and our gentle girl bit Kitten in the face and head, not breaking the skin but leaving marks that linger even today, around her scalp, eye sockets and cheeks. We knew next time it could be the wounds rather than the fear and pain that were the worst part and after discussing things with the vet, I took her for one last drive. Thanks be to God, I stayed very calm until it was all over so she was also able to be very serene and untroubled, and the vet came out to her in the car where she was cuddled across my lap nibbling on some treats so her awful fear of the vet surgery wasn't triggered. She was so brave. My good sweet gentle baby girl.

The terrible cause and the sheer unexpectedness and abruptness - one minute I was about to take dogs and kids to the park as usual and two hours later I was driving her home to be laid to rest - have just broken our hearts. I don't think I have ever cried as much. Even much greater losses of humans we have loved didn't carry the raw agony of being the one to make the choice and carry it out, and while she had been medicated for discomfort we in no way believed she was at the end of her life as we did with other beloved pets we had put to sleep.

She was a truly beautiful dog with her lovely symetrical markings on her face, her smooth muzzle and head that were like velvet, her curly ears and soulful dark eyes. She was the most gentle dog ever for most of her life, a comical little girl who loved her food, snorted like a piglet, galumphed through the woods with a laugh on her face, and lived for the rattle of food in her bowl. She loved to be squeezed up in funny little corners to sleep, and crammed herself into a small gap between hearth and sofa, where my toes would always find her warm softness - and the crushing ache in my heart when I stretched out my feet to find her fur last night out of habit, and there was no doggy girl there to be tickled was too much to bear. We are so glad we had her and were so blessed by her presence in our life.

We love you and miss you, more than I can ever say, darling Dizzy, my little Daisy Mae, my sweet Dodgy girl. May you run well in the forest without end reunited with your Rosco, and may St Francis keep you in his care.

The saga of Mouse and his leg!

2011-08-09T08:57:00.005+01:00

[Mouse made this car from an off-cut of mahogany for Kitten]

What a day Friday was! It all started so well: Mouse lost a tooth last night so this morning we went to spend his St Appolonia/tooth fairy money on lead soldiers, and we came home, did our Waldorf maths camp, worked on sanding the play cooker we are making Kitten - and then Mouse fell off the log the kids play with in the garden and gashed his leg open on a broken flower pot. It was truly horrifying: blood everywhere, skin flapping loose, flesh hanging off while he screamed and squealed.

Thankfully, one of our neighbours came to my rescue as I was close to hysterical about being home alone without the car and trying to deal with it, and he put a dressing on and drove us to hospital. We were there for hours, and were told to return the next day as Mouse needed to have an operation under general anesthethic but the way it works is that plastic surgery operations happen whenever and wherever there is a free theatre, so we just had to turn up and wait. The bright side is that I was able to be prepared for hours of waiting around on the Saturday and quickly had a back pack filled with books, drawing materials, lead soldiers and my knitting.

I am so proud of Kitten who coped with the stress, disruption and late night like a superstar, and of Mouse who was, after the initial terror and panic, stoical and rock hard. I am so thankful for family who were ready to help, and for Oscar being able to rearrange works shifts thanks to a cooperative collegue so he could take Mouse and me in to the hospital and stay at home with Kitten, who so badly needed a calm day.

My sanity was saved by knitting when we were at the hospital. I didn't get much done in Mouse's room on the ward but in the parents' room at the operating suite? I knitted like my life depended on it and didn't think of anything except yarn round needle. It helped immeasurably. I only became slightly hysterical as Mouse took a long time to come round and I started to panic at how long I was waiting to see my baby again!

"Little Grey Men" was another blessing. I curled up on Mouse's bed both before and after the op (we waited from 8 until 3 for him to go down) and read read read. What a beautiful, absorbing book. One of those that casts an enchantment and allows the reader or listener to pass through a portal and into the story. We loved it.

That and singing and playing cards carried my boy and me through the day. And he now has a new pair of socks!

Mouse was very brave. He found bring starved for 20 hours the hardest part to handle. The difference in him after he ate his miserable bowl of hospital slop (a lump of instant mash, soggy pasta bake and shrivelled peas- yummy!) was amazing. He looked like himself again and could smile again. What a wonderful sight my rosy cheeked and smiley boy was to an overwrought mama!

2011-08-03T15:50:00.003+01:00

I love sandy little feet, in theory! I love these feet, sandy or not, and I always shall. Motherhood is not easy for me. I fail at it miserably, and make many mistakes. I disappoint myself and let my babies down multiple times a day. But - without minimising my regrets for not being a better mother and my sincere repentence for being, at times, a totally abysmal mother - my heart, mind and soul are filled with passionate love and thankfulness for our children.

I suppose my one hope and prayer is that our children will remember the love and look with charity on the failings. All I really want is for them to know, deep deep deep down, that they are eternally loved by me, and if my love is so great than how much more wonderful must the love of their perfect God be for them.

2011-07-25T20:27:00.001+01:00

We had a lovely afternoon at a local Heath, enjoying total peace, seeing deer among the gorse and Heather and bring visited by a herd of ten ponies who spend their time there browsing down the undergrowth. They came galloping to where we were picnicking, frightening Mouse but delighting Kitten and began to snuffle up spilled sugar and to nibble on my hat. It was a moment to remember.

Oscar and the children explored and made dens while I knitted with my back against an old oak tree, looking out over this ancient landscape. It was a blissful little pause. Just what the doctor ordered!

2011-07-16T00:20:00.002+01:00

Watching our children become who they are meant to be, the people they are discovering themselves to be, just fills me with emotions. At forest school this afternoon, looking on as Mouse discovered what he is convinced is a fossilised dinosaur bone, as they sat in the little shelter they built and played music with their friends, as Kitten hissed indignantly "I was listening to my body and it was telling me I do know how to climb a tree!" while being plucked from the branches of a tree overhanging a gully - I was filled with love for who they are now.

There is something so strange about the moments of seeing them through their own eyes. Sometimes it is chalk on paving slabs, sometimes it is seeing their reflection in a mirror as they admire themselves in new clothes or over-hearing a conversation between the two of them, deep in play. One day, when they are all grown up, I hope we will be friends and that I will still find them as fascinating as I do now.

Week of joy: fail!

2011-07-06T16:03:00.004+01:00

Sometimes the joy - as opposed to "mere" happiness - comes as the result of struggle, of effort, of sheer will power or patiently enduring until time passing or some other change enables joy to be felt once more. And sometimes joy is the moment of sunshine from behind a cloud, the noticing golden tassels of catkins on the journey to the funeral of a loved one, the way that the arms of a husband feel pulled close around shoulders heaving with sobs.

The fruit of patience and perseverance and trust is, in my life, joy. There has been comparatively little to feel joyful about these past days. It has been much struggle, much turmoil, much emotional pain and stress. But, literally as I sit here in the garden tapping away, a butterfly has landed a foot from me, and - even with ragged, tattered, faded wings - it is so beautiful. And I will take that as a little nudge, a reminder to find the joy and beauty in the small and tattered things of life.

Today I am finding joy in the sunshine, in talking to new friends when we walk the dogs, in funny texts from Oscar, helping two scared children find peaceful moments, laughing at those who persecute us, breathing deep, planning hot dogs for supper, children up in trees, having a sister-date planned for me by my husband. Oh and iced coffee and the delicious tinkle of all that ice!

Week of Joy: day five

2011-07-03T14:19:00.000+01:00

I am finding joy today in meditating on God's never-ending, never-stinting love for me!

"Always the bud and never the blossom" is the phrase that pretty neatly sums up my long-running internal monologue. A gnawing sense of dissatisfaction with every aspect of my personality, appearance, spirituality, life and "all my doin's" can all too often eat away at any joy I feel. I am especially sickened by how a recurring theme of my prayers, before and after Communion, is "help me God, give me strength for this and that, show me a way to feel peace, give me wisdom about XY&Z". Of course, God welcomes such cries from the heart and He does want to help us with our daily lives and yet the regular laundry list of my own concerns and how there is never any growth or fruitfulness bothers me.

But on Wednesday, which was the Solemnity of St Peter and St Paul, I was listening to the Gospel and to Father's homily and thinking about these noble, brave apostles. I saw how the challenges of my faith life seem so small, so petty compared to those of such saints. I worry about being patient with my children, how to deal with people who scratch at my soul, how to save money, whether we could have another child, about health, my selfishness, how to waste less time online, my bad habits of swearing and gossiping. These saints, and countless others like them, had much weightier matters on their hearts: imprisonment, consistency and truthfulness in their witness, how to save souls, torture, martyrdom. I felt like a worm. Another reminder of just how much I deserve to drag about that huge sack of self-loathing - not only am I ugly, fat, foul-mouthed, lazy and a rubbish mother, but I am also really, really bad at being a Christian.

But then I paid more attention to the homily. Father was saying we can all be transformed as we meet Jesus, just as these great Apostles were. The Lord met Peter and Paul in one way, and He is likely to meet me in a different way, to have a different purpose for my life, to make different demands and to help me grown in holiness in different ways.

I am finding joy in thinking about that and reflecting on God's love and acceptance of me. He would run to meet me on the road, just as the father ran to meet the returning prodigal - His love has no limits. It is so hard to love oneself - yet I think I am going to try! So I will aim for more thanksgiving and less pleading for help to get through the week at Mass this Sunday, but I will also keep falling on my knees about my lack of patience, about how to handle teaching Maths to Mouse, and all the other little ruts and puddles in my personal path to heaven. There is such joy in knowing that just as surely as God gave Peter the strength to face his cross and Paul his sword, He also helped them with sea sickness and saddle soreness, and hasty speech and grumpy mornings, and He will do the same for me and my little flock as we grow in holiness together.

Keeping faith with God and continuing to try, to ask for help, to seek forgiveness and embrace a new start is a sort of growth in holiness. I may always be a bud here on earth, but one day I will blossom, even if I need to wait for heaven to do so.

Week of Joy: day four

2011-07-01T15:02:00.003+01:00

Today I am taking joy in s-l-o-w-i-n-g down!

Moving at a snail's pace. What a lovely, peaceful thought. Watching the children making friends with Mr Sliff Slaff as we spent a whole day in the garden reminded me of the truly perfect joy of a slow, slow, slow day.

A pyjama day doesn't really appeal at this time of the year. I want to be dressed, in a straw hat, glass of iced coffee to hand, reading in the shade while the children lose themselves in their play: that sounds perfect. The day starts to go more slowly as the shadows move around the garden like hands on a clock. Time expands. The children sing and walk about talking to themselves. Kitten makes mud pies. Snail habitats are built. Mouse lays leaves on a paving slab and murmurs to himself about how they are fish he is cooking. The outdoor sink is filled with water and pistachio shell boats are floated. Ladybirds are gently collected and observed. Garden canes becomes spears for stone age hunters. A sling to fire the baby apples which have dropped off the tree is made. Dollies appear for a picnic. A boat is made from a blanket. Pretend fires are lit and feasts are cooked. The play cottage is swept out. Chalk drawings bloom on the patio around my feet. Mouse spends ages painting a piece of wood with water, crooning to himself. I sit and read - an Actual Book. It inspires me and affirms me at the same time. The poodle blisses out on my lap.

I see proof of just how good the day has been when I cook our supper which proves to be entirely inedible and disgusting, but amazingly I don't stress or order a pizza: I wash dishes and cook another meal while the children draw celtic warriors. The slowness of the day has calmed and settled us all.

We are finding the joy in letting the summer holiday mood slow us right down and I am hoping for many more happy days reading and listening to the children play.

Week of Joy: day three

2011-07-01T14:30:00.000+01:00

Today I am finding joy in the many small pleasures of daily life:

* Green smoothies! I am so glad we overcame the initial resitance to the idea any sane person would feel on considering drinking spinach! We have a huge, frosty blender jug full every day for lunch. We all love it. We can feel it doing us good, it is filling and it tastes so good. Today's was kale, peach, blueberry and orange. And it was yumptious!

* meals outside, too. Breakfast, lunch and dinner when we can. It makes me so happy to carry a meal outside and makes any food taste better.

* the life in a line full of laundry. These clothes dance and jump when they are being worn by my little ones and the breeze makes them do so on the washing line. I can still vividly recall how overwhelmingly grateful I was the first time I hung our son's tiny clothes on the line, 6 years ago, and how amazing it was to peg out our daughter's even smaller clothes to dry 4 years ago.
One day God willing I will be helping my daughter or daughter-in-law and get to hang up some teeny newborn clothes!

* blue skies and fluffy clouds. Oh lovely view! [and only surpassed by leaves above my head while I lay in the shade with my husband kissing and being kissed.]

* which reminds me, kissing should be on this list too. Oscar and I did the whole lay on the grass and snog like teenagers thing the other day when the kids were at Sport Group. It reminded me of when we were doing our A Levels and would be late back to class: I went into so many history lessons picking grass out of my hair....I don't think most grown ups spend enough time kissing the faces off their spouses!

* this cute little face! Her "big op" went well even though she also needed dental work done at the same time (which kept her under longer and doubled the cost - grrr) but she has been a trooper while recovering.

* and this sweet old lady too. We have been so blessed in our pets. They offer so much love and give so much comfort.

Week of Joy: day two

2011-06-30T12:10:00.000+01:00

I am finding joy in imagination

The gift of imagination is an immeasurably great one. It makes life magical and marvellous. I see it working in our little four year old Kitten who lives as though once she thinks a thing, it is real. (She is looking in shops for special little pots of salve which we will rub on each other's backs and then patiently wait for our fairy wings to grow.) I saw it at forest school when my children and I were quite ready to stroke an old tree's time-creased bark and ask for permission to enter his woodland kingdom - and saw the sad reverse as other children sniggered, shrank back and could not see beyond the timber and leaves to the forest king within. I see it as a few marks with face paint and a saucepan lid shield and a piece of red chiffon transform little children into fierce Celtic warriors. We enjoy it as we play the story game as a family, each adding to a story we build sentence by sentence together, making our own little story circle and passing the story from hand to hand as it were, from mind to mind. It is a hard game for my husband, easier for me (always being asked for stories exercises my imagination), but the ideas and the characters and the twisting, twining, serpent-like plots just spill forth from our children, as natural to them as breathing. What a gift...

Imagination has been helping Mouse after communion at church. I give him an image to hold in his mind and he allows his imagination to fill his mind with beautiful pictures which speak of Jesus. So much better than staring at the other communicants as they encounter their Lord and God at the altar steps. Today it was the image of himself as a lovely little ship on a wide sea and of Jesus as the wind filling the sails and sending the ship on the voyage it was meant to have. He closed his eyes and lost himself in thoughts of Jesus.

The creative and inventive powers of the imagination are my special joy today. They enrich and enhance life my so much from watching my children play, to making up songs and stories and finger plays, to inventing new recipes, to the pleasure of taking an idea and making it into a watercolour painting or a carefully sewn dolly or a handknitted jumper or a new lesson to share in home ed time. Thank you God for the joy of imagination.

Week of Joy: day one

2011-06-29T08:17:00.000+01:00

It's not making the best of a bad job. It's not putting a brave face on. It's not faking it until we make it. It is finding the joy - the real, true, pure joy - in any given moment. It's a game we play as I ask: "right here,right now, what is one thing that is giving you joy?" And the answers come readily from the heart: holding your hand, the breeze, this cup of coffee, the feel of the dogs' fur, how warm the sun is on my face, that flower, Daddy being here, the story we just finished reading...

We went to the beach. It was pouring with rain. We had eaten piping hot fish and chips, fragrant with vinegar, in the car, listening to "the old man upstairs moving his chairs" as it thundered. And then the children danced in the rain, shouting at the waves and splashing in the puddles of half sea and half rain while their Dada took photos of their antics through the windscreen. We all found so much joy in that moment. There were so many to mention that the joy filled the car like the warmth that poured from the heating vents. As I have been making a habit to ask the question - to direct attention to the right here, right now moment and to the tiny little things that, like tens of thousands of tesserae creating a beautiful mosaic, make up a lives filled with goodness, pleasure and joy - the children are seeing how good these lives God has given us really are.

I am declaring this my personal "Week of Joy", taking time to stop and make a little note with words and pictures and memories of the special and precious joys God is filling my life with and for which I am so grateful...

2011-06-27T11:10:00.001+01:00

His special day was special to him. He met his Jesus at the altar and that, ultimately, is all that really matters. We are so thankful to God for the graces of this beautiful sacrament for our little man.

2011-06-14T19:23:00.000+01:00

Such a lovely day today. After three days and nights in a row without our daddy/husband, we had him home again and he whisked us off out to Walsingham, my favourite place in the world. We said prayers and lit candles for some of our favourite people.

Six Years Together

2011-06-13T15:51:00.000+01:00

So somehow it has become six entire years since my first moments with our boy. Six years of watching him grow, learn, stretch to the sun, and just be the delight of my heart. When I think of all the prayers that were prayed before that first cuddle in his foster carer's shadowed sitting room, of all the prayers that were prayed as he tried to find a way to let himself finally love us six months later, and all the prayers between then and now as he has battled to find a way to deal with the wounds left by his earliest days, I can only think of a staircase being built step by step, prayer by prayer, all the way to the throne of God.

And so today, to celebrate, we have held each other, laughed, read stories, and his daddy rang up to tell him to go look in the play house where a new scooter was waiting for him, much to his surprise and joy. We ate bread and butter pudding for breppa, went to Sports Group, played with a new little friend for ages after everyone had left and now he is out in the garden, being Jack Turmoil the pirate with Billy Bones his "sailor pal".

I am so so thankful that of all the families that could have been blessed by God with this precious child, we were chosen to be his mama and dada. We get to admire his collections of "treasures" dug up from all over creation or pryed up from under floorboards. We get to be shown his endless parade of "battle drawings", showing dragons, Vikings, Celts and Pirates fighting each other. We get to kiss his freckled nose and watch him spraying his copper curls and combing them flat in front of the mirror. We get to hear about all his inventions and ideas and future plans, and to squeeze the cuddles out of him at least four times a day. We get to listen to him singing "Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum" as he goes about his daily business and, better than anything else, we get to know that this amazing little boy is our son, now and forever.

We love you Pocket Mouse!

Blessings on Sunday

2011-06-12T20:16:00.000+01:00

* Mud pies made while still wearing one's Sunday Best? Why yes, that is a blessing. "Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean,but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox" [Proverbs 14:4] All this mess and chaos and creative play will one day be behind me, but now I am happily in the midst of my years of mothering little people.

* my mum and dad calling in to visit us with their little poodle puppy Miffy, around whose little apricot paw they are both pretty well wrapped.

* A "Secret Garden" kind of weekend - we watched the movie, listened to it on the radio and after finishing "Outcast" by Rosemary Sutcliff, we started reading the book in a lovely version illustrated by Shirley Hughes. We are loving our story times lately and it is a joy to share the hidden worlds tucked away between the covers of some of my favourite books with our children.

* the lovely rich aroma of chicken stock filling the house all afternoon.

* watching the radiant smiles on the faces of 45 beautiful young people being confirmed at Mass today as we celebrated Pentecost, and our dear Bishop [six months after being given weeks to live] found strength to be with us and to share some inspiring thoughts, sending out the newly confirmed and all us jaded ones sitting in the pews with them to be like angels with the message of good news.

* Hours of rain soaking the garden - parts of our region are in drought and our garden is just sand and dust, so I am thankful for the abundant blessing of rain from heaven. "The LORD will open to you his good treasury, the heavens, to give the rain to your land in its season and to bless all the work of your hands." [Deut 28:12]

*This promise from God, which sustains me when I feel, as I do now, that I am tempted and tried beyond my endurance: "No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it." [1 Corinthians 10:13] I am so comforted to remind myself that it may feel too much but that I am able to endure it. I like to think of it as my guarantee from God along with this precious verse: "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." [Romans 8:28]

Maths Adventure # 1: "the maths channel for mobius strips"

2011-06-09T13:23:00.000+01:00

This week we have been playing with shapes in our "main lessons", using the book "Think of a Number" by Johnny Ball. We were amazed by the things that happened as we made and cut loops and mobius strips, and the children wanted to share it with Dada. So here, for his benefit and our fun, are four videos shot and narrated by the little ones and with me wielding the Scissors of Amazement (because I can cut quickly enough to keep the vids short enough to email to the blog!)

Maths Adventure Video # 2: "loopin' the loop"

2011-06-09T13:17:00.000+01:00

Maths Adventure Video # 3: "A complete and utter mobius strip"

2011-06-09T13:07:00.000+01:00

How many sides and edges was that again?

Maths Adventure Video # 4: "A Sqbox"

2011-06-09T12:56:00.000+01:00

[You take two ordinary loops of paper, fixed together in one place, and then cut along the middle of both loops]

Walkies!

2011-06-08T20:28:00.000+01:00

This video is making me smile tonight. Kitten taught Coco how to "walk" Daisy [who was dressed in her rainy day coat despite the fact it was dry as a bone]. You can hear Mouse in the background asking me about some pottery he dug up in our garden ["white clay means it's not very old"]

Feeling chicken

2011-06-04T17:40:00.000+01:00

Oh my goodness. I am running scared! How did time just melt away so quickly? How did I go from folding a tiny little boy with huge blue eyes and a dusting of copper hair into my arms, just a heartbeat ago, to opening my arms and watching my big boy with his head of rioting auburn curls trot into the confessional at church to make his first confession this morning? It was a surreal moment in time to step aside, leaving Mouse to approach the sacrament on his own, to start really forging his own relationship with God. Even though I know I will still be teaching and leading and discipling in many ways, this felt like a new experience for him and me - something big, something potentially difficult, and definitely life changing that he had to do alone and did so well, in his own unique way.

And so in he went, with his two A4 sheets of paper, and he boomed away so that everyone could hear as he ploughed through his list of sins he wanted to take to Jesus - and if I caught anyone's eyes we would smile at each other. And then he came happily out again. "I have to say one Our Father and say thank you to God for my confession," he said and that was that.

It is a difficult to imagine "letting" him move into a new stage of life, into growing up just a little bit more now. But, in the mercy of God, these things just happen and in the accepting of it and enjoying it, grace is hidden waiting to be found. Yesterday Mouse and I went shopping together for his first holy communion suit and I smile remembering how he had so many ideas and strong opinions - how he grinned at his reflection when he pulled on The Jacket over his jeans and liked what he saw.

Now we just have to make sure the focus for the next few weeks is not the search for the perfect pink tie and amber cuff links but on preparing his heart and soul for the sublime moment of meeting Jesus at the altar.

And I am still feeling a little scared, a little unripened and immature, to handle the next steps of motherhood as my eldest leaves behind his early childhood and strides so confidently into the next phase of his life. It is a wonderful adventure we are on together and I thank God for the journey and the gentleness and grace with which He leads us on it.

Blessings on Sunday

2011-05-29T18:56:00.001+01:00

Today I am blessed by
* the privilege of going to Mass, with no fear for our safety, just minutes from our home
* baking cupcakes with Mouse and decorating them with Kitten, ready for a family get-together
* the joy of spoons and bowls to lick
* lazing in bed reading books about art and pirates with the children, talking to my true love and sipping coffee before a breakfast of homemade waffles with blueberry sauce
* sweet-smelling, freshly bathed and clipped doggies to cuddle
* the utter utter fascinating beauty of baroque music
* playing UNO with the children and the sweet way Kitten says UNO!
* reading and discussing scripture with the children
* the excitement of a new missal coming and the plans our clergy have to help us fall in love with it
* an early night planned to be spent with my husband and P G Wodehouse, two of the very best companions for an early night

Method giveaway

2011-05-25T12:31:00.000+01:00

One thing that becoming a mother did for me was make me want a safer, cleaner home for my little ones to grow up in and a safer, cleaner world for them to explore. I really love method products a little bit more than is rational: I love the philosophy of "past, present and future" that they use to assess the impact of their products, the effective yet gentle products are a pleasure to use and, it must be admitted, I like the colours, fragrances and the packaging too - a method bottle just doesn't look ugly. My favourite product is the "wood for good" furniture spray that smells of almonds: it makes polishing a delight!

The lovely people at method recently sent me a new handwash in a lively fresh fragrance called waterfall. The kids - who almost always have dirty hands at this play-out-in-the-garden-all-day time of year have been particularly enjoying it! And they also sent a sample of their fab laundry detergent - which is amazingly super-concentrated and actually gets clothes clean, something not always guaranteed with eco-friendly laundry products, especially with two dirt magnets in our family to put any laundry liquid through its paces.

And the best news is that method would like to give you a chance to try these products too! If you live in the UK and would like a voucher to get a free handwash from Sainsbury's as well as a sachet of the laundry detergent to try, all you need to do is email your postal address to talkclean@methodproducts.co.uk putting "waterfall" as the subject of your email and, subject to availabity, they will do the rest. And before long, you will be getting some fun post and you or your children can start finding excuses to wash your hands many times a day!

Remember to like method on facebook and visit their home on the web to check out the full range of products and special offers!

2011-05-23T23:23:00.000+01:00

She started some very simple first steps in phonics today. And the whole time she was murmuring under her breath "Yes! Yes!". There was something so infectious about her delight in a new task. In fact there is a lesson hidden away in the way even our seven year old can get excited about a job - tonight as I started to brown meat he came running, already in his apron, wanting to cook.

And both times I failed to learn my own lesson and taught them the wrong thing. "You're not staying on the lines!" I scolded my Kitten. "You're making a mess!" I criticised Mousie. I need to be grateful that when my heavenly Father looks upon my pathetic attempts to serve and love Him and my neighbour, He looks with eyes that see the effort, always. And I need to be thinking about how I can take more delight in the tasks I have set before me - I want to run to help as eagerly as Mouse did tonight!

Blessings on Sunday: the donkey and the angel

2011-05-22T20:38:00.001+01:00

This Sunday I am blessed by:

* friendship between whole families

* wondering how God will really meet me in my tiredness and help me meet all the demands, only to discover He provides a helper and answers even my unspoken prayers

* taking a child to be with Jesus and seeing that child actually find Jesus

* the holy priests God has given us

Today we sat in the garden of friends, talking about faith and the churches we have dallied in before our conversion, and I was trying to explain how to me the Catholic Church is about so much more than great music, a fire-breathing pastor, active social ministries, the people in the pews or seats around me or any of the things that attracted us to churches before - to me, it is all about God in a way no other church ever has been. What to many seem to get between the believer and Christ - the rules, Mary, the saints, prayers learned by heart, priests, the sacrament of confession, the True Presence, the hierarchy, the liturgy - all of that helps me to be close to God.

It doesn't matter what I think, feel or do, the holy sacrifice of the Mass goes on. It doesn't matter whether the priest is a good man or not, the holy sacrifice of the Mass goes on. It doesn't matter if the church is full or empty, whether the flock gathered there are ardent believers or just showing up because that's what someone born Catholic does every few months or years. It doesn't matter, because I can go up to the altar, a priest can say "the Body of Christ" and I can say "Amen". On Friday, for her religious ed this week, Kitten dictated to me that Amen means "yes! that is my prayer too! I agree with you. Yes, yes, yes!" So I say Amen, receive Jesus, and everything has changed, all over again.

Tonight we went to the "sinner's Mass" at half past five, and we had to wrestle a sobbing, snarling child into the car. I had to drag a hitting, spitting child through the churchyard and up the steps, saying "You are a Catholic and Catholics go to be with Jesus on Sunday". My child did not want to go at all. But we went, and in the pew up close the altar I whispered that feelings were one thing, actions another, and that respect must be shown to the other Christians who had come to be with Jesus, but most of all to Jesus Himself. Small knees hit the dusty floorboards, muttering commenced, sounding slightly less angry by the minute: prayers that are always said are easier to rediscover than words that must be freshly minted at need. Everything was familiar, providing an anchor in the storm of emotion and rage - now we stand, now we sing, now we say the words we say every week or every day, now we bow our heads, now we kneel, now we look up and see the miracle happening, now we kiss our family and shake hands with neighbours, now we kneel, now we cross ourselves, and on and on, each word and gesture slotting into place.

And it is like suddenly seeing the angel that had not been noticed before. Not an angel of opposition or punishment: an angel of perfect peace and love, freely offered. It is so easy to see the "donkey", the outward shell that so many other Christians reject or dislike - the statues, the rote prayers, the elaborate fittings and fixtures and so on - and so easy for those looking on to beat that donkey. But the "angel" - the unseen shimmering radiance of God's presence, of Jesus coming to be with us again so intimately, coming to nourish and satisfy even our little one who is too young to go up and receive the Lord physically - that is harder to see. Yet today, even I saw it in the child who pressed against my side, slipped a hand in mine, gazed at the holy images, learned a lesson for life and found a Friend forever.

Like sand through our fingers

2011-05-19T20:47:00.000+01:00

We went on an impromptu visit to the beach this evening. I am always thankful when Oscar suggests these spontaneous flits, even if at the moment of him proposing it I feel stressed out by the mere idea. It was lovely to introduce Coco to the sea and sand for the first time, and to laugh with the children as she skipped and pranced in the waves. Wonderful to dip our feet into the cool refreshing water. Fun to sit and cuddle the pup and watch Oscar play with the children in the sand dunes.

I sat there for a long while making spiral patterns in the sand with my fingers. And thinking about how many times today I have spoken or thought about the swift trickling away of time, like sand between our fingers. This day will never come again, I said to Mouse, so make the most of this never to be repeated opportunity. I can always do with being reminded of that too. So much in my very ordinary life as a stay-at-home mama feels like an endless repeat performance, after all. But it is not. This day with all that it has held has been utterly unique and is now entirely been and gone, never to return, never to repeated.

The children will never again be exactly who they were today. The birdsong at the park this morning and this evening among the tangle of trees behind the dunes will never sound identical to today's composition. I won't ever have the chance to have the same conversation with my mum as I did today. The kisses my husband gave me were a once in a lifetime event: tomorrow's kisses will be new and unique to tomorrow. As I played in the sand, watching the spirals twist and turn, interlace and run into one another, I thought about how life feels the same: simple and complex at the same time. And about how only God could number the grains of sand or make sense of how every moment of every hour of every day for each man, woman and child that has ever lived or will ever live is so precious, so unrepeatable, irretrievable. And it all made me feel so small - a mere one among billions - and at the same time so treasured in God's sight, and more determined than ever to value the ordinary, extraordinary moments of never to be repeated life.

Blessings on Wednesday

2011-05-18T16:32:00.000+01:00

Almost every morning the children and I sit down to journal about the blessings and beauties of the day before. Many years ago my friend Emilie suggested the idea of counting my blessings this way so I like it for that reason. I also like how it gets our Mousie boy writing each day in a non-overwhelming way. And I adore taking dictation from Kitten, whose entries usually conclude with saying "I love you God. Kiss kiss!"

Today I am blessed by
* a hard home educating day that has made me dig deep and not give up
* a long walk beside the river with our doggies and seeing two lovely herons haunting the reeds
* children singing love songs to God
* a son carefully selecting the essential oils he wants to add to his mopping water
* a daughter laughing and kissing her way through a "maths lesson"
* the ineffable loveliness of a pot of coffee made by my beloved
* the comfort of praying for hurting friends

Peace, easy

2011-05-17T16:14:00.001+01:00

Finding peace, to me, is always rooted in faith. The only way I can be who I am made to be, do what I was meant to do, experience that abundant life Jesus came to bring us and which, deep down, I think everyone craves, is to try and be closer to God. I think I slightly annoy my more pragmatic husband with the way that my solution to every issue we ever face is to "get right with God".

I am feeling a deep sense of peace at the moment, not through any efforts of my own, but just as a gift. On Sunday at Mass I had a beautiful realisation that if we are meant to be like the little children, one of their most lovely qualities is how they exist in the moment. So I let all the sense of striving drop away from me. I am imagining myself like a baby in her Father's arms: simply experiencing the moment without analysing, anxiety or projecting into the future. And it is bliss. Seeing little tiny Miffy in Kitten's arms reminds me of how good this resting in God's love is. I just hope it is something I can keep on remembering.

2011-05-14T20:08:00.000+01:00

Another new puppy joined the family today: this one is my Mum and Dad's gorgeous and impossibly teeny tiny apricot toy poodle. She is just 7 weeks old and both her sire and dam were petite, so it looks as if my mummy is in for a precious little handful. We were kucky enough to be the first to catch a glimpse and have a little kiss through the car window, but we all need a real go of her now!

2011-05-10T18:22:00.000+01:00

Oscar took the children to see his mother, so I had a few blissful hours to myself here at home. I took photos of the beautiful quilt my mummy made for Kitten's birthday so Mum can show her quilting ladies without needing to share my camera. I sewed some placemats undisturbed. Did the dishes in peace. Walked the doggies without having to wait for dawdlers or call back someone racing ahead. Had a bath with no small people demanding to get in and share the water with me. Relaxed on the sofa without anyone asking for stories.

And I feel kind of lonely....

2011-05-07T21:49:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, as a home educator, I worry about how much our children are learning and how to assess how well their education is meeting their needs. And then something like today happens. Mouse dressed up as a celtic warrior complete with two swords and a tricycle "chariot", and Kitten became Queen Boudica, complete with all purpose bride/princess outfit.

They remembered so much - that roman soldiers wore red cloaks but maybe the celtic warrior took this cloak, that high ranking celts wore torcs, that Britain was full of valuable minerals and metals, the way the romans invaded Britain, the way celts and romans fought, the type of houses celtic people lived in, what sort of foods and material goods were available at the time and many other details.

And all this knowledge spilled out while I ironed as they got ready and then as we walked the dogs, while they attacked the imaginary romans at the park. What a wonderful way to be reassured that home education is working for us!

2011-05-02T20:37:00.000+01:00

May Day, and a picnic is on the cards. A pup and an old dog are both eager companions, tugging at their leads to pull us along through the woods, along narrow stony paths worn among the bluebells and jack-by-the-hedge.

We make friends as we walk - donkeys who have found sanctuary from the troubles of their lives although Kitten still thinks they are sad and doesn't find comfort in my explanation that all donkeys look sad; and fellows walkers - the familiar exchange of good afternoons and smiles, and the puppy sniffing at trousers and shoes. But really and truly we are each other's friends - trying to be patient and kind and interested in one another.

It is such a blessing to have this oasis of acres of reeds and water, woods and marshes, in the heart of a city. Coco, finding it all new, is in heaven in the midst of the intoxicating smells and the fluttering of butterflies and leaves to distract her.

We eat and walk, Mouse digs "treasures" of broken bits of crockery out of the path, Oz and I talk, Kitten runs and sings, the dogs sniff and the birds sing beneath the bright sky.

The funniest and nicest thing, as we go along, is finding a message written in paint by some vandal with a social conscience upon the massive pillars of the bridge that holds the traffic high above our heads:

...and isn't that so true?

Blessings on Sunday

2011-05-01T19:52:00.002+01:00

* this beautifully soft mantilla arrived a week or so ago as a surprise gift from my friend Mrs D who runs Zelie's Roses, making modest clothing, first Holy Communion frocks, head coverings and dressing up costumes. Kitten loves it, and wore it today. Her sweet question "Do I look like Mary?" was repeated many times.

*Mouse is a oft-frustrated treasure hunter so it was a joy to watch him pull up a floorboard in a cupboard and find a little stash of toy soldiers, beads, an old watch and parts of toy cars hidden away beneath it.

* I didn't want to go to Mass this morning as I was feeling very anxious but we went anyway and I felt much much better for it. The trick is to remember that the next time I am feeling unable to go. Sometimes, pushing on through the fear is exactly what I need.

* re-discovering my love for a pot of loose leaf earl grey tea.

* Kitten telling me, as I got her ready for bed, "I want to be like you, talk like you, wear clothes like you, do all the things you do." Just what this pathetic excuse of a mother needed to hear tonight.

* Mousie's plans for his museum.

* Kissing the bridge of Kitten's nose as I said goodnight.

The thrush-loud glades of dreaming blue

2011-04-29T09:28:00.001+01:00

We all went to the bluebell woods today. Our annual bluebell picnic means so much to us all.

This intoxicating, scintillating blue!

Time together, in the beauty of creation. The bliss of being out of the city, motoring along the narrow lanes trimmed with the lace of cow parsley, and getting more excited as we neared the woods.

The woods were filled with beauty - yellow archangel, red campion, cowslips, forget-me-nots, bugle, bladder campion, wild garlic, and all the bird-loud trees in their new frocks of fresh green.

It is the slight and stately stem,
The blossom's silvery blue,
The buds hid like a sapphire gem
In sheaths of emerald hue.

'Tis these that breathe upon my heart
A calm and softening spell
That if it makes the tear-drop start
Has power to soothe as well.

{Emily Bronte}

It makes me so happy to share the magic of the woods with our little ones. There are so many folk legends and stories about the magic of the bluebells, and they do seem to cast a spell that transforms the ordinary woods into something utterly lovely and mysterious.

We are fortunate to have so many lovely woods to visit at this time of year. Usually we only go once a year to visit the bluebells, to keep it special. But we are going to a different bluebell wood this weekend, and to yet another next week - and to be honest, there is a fourth wood I have in mind to go and pay homage to the fleeting glory of the bluebells.

It was so nice to enjoy our first picnic of the year. We had rose lemonade, mini quiches, cold sausages, crusty bread and soft cheese, and jam tarts.

It is so restorative to be quietly walking among the cool blue beauty of the bluebells. The green, fresh scent of the spring woodland is overwhelmed by the honeyed sweetness of the blooming flowers and the whole wood is filled withe birdsong and the hum of bees.

"Bluebells are like little blue cottages for fairies, a whole wood full of fairy houses."
{Mousie}

"The wood is nice with the bluebells - I feel like I am a fairy playing and dancing about."
{Kitten}

I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than the bluebell I have been looking at. I know the beauty of our Lord by it.

{Gerard Manley Hopkins}

We are always so thankful and happy to visit our beloved bluebell woods, and hope you enjoy sharing the beauty with us as much as we adore returning to these memories, year after year!

happiest of easters

2011-04-24T11:32:00.000+01:00

Now the green blade rises from the buried grain,
Wheat that in the dark earth many years has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

In the grave they laid Him, Love Whom we had slain,
Thinking that He’d never wake to life again,
Laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

Up He sprang at Easter, like the risen grain,
He that for three days in the grave had lain;
Up from the dead my risen Lord is seen:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

When our hearts are saddened, grieving or in pain,
By Your touch You call us back to life again;
Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

This is one of my most favourite hymns, singing it with my husband last night, surrounded by the mingling fragrances of beeswax, incense, chrism and lillies, hearts full of Easter joy, was beautiful. My dear and best loved darling is now a Catholic and he received the Lord Jesus in Holy Communion for the first time. It added a whole new layer of wonder to the deep beauty of Easter: our priest, who was celebrating as our Bishop is so unwell, said that the newly baptised and newly received were the icing on the cake of Easter and he was right. I am so proud of Oscar and his own unique journey to join Holy Mother Church. Last night stirred so many memories of my own reception into full communion and my heart is full.

One a penny, two a penny

2011-04-21T19:33:00.000+01:00

This is our favourite recipe for hot cross buns. We make them only once a year on Holy Thursday but they are all we eat on Good Friday (apart from an egg or some cheese for the children) and there is something so special about particular food on certain days. As a child we also only ate hot cross buns on Good Friday and it still seems wierd to me that they are in the shops for so long nowadays.

*Sift together 250g plain flour, 250g very strong bread flour, 3 teaspoons mixed spice, 75g golden caster sugar, a pinch of salt.
* Cut in 50g butter.
* Add 150g dried mixed fruit, zest of 1 lemon, 1.5 teaspoons fast action dried yeast.
* Stir in 1 beaten egg, and 300ml liquid (150ml boiling water and 150ml cold milk).
* Knead for about 10 minutes - I give each child a little lump to work on.
* Shape into 12 balls and place on a greased baking tray (I use a roasting tin so the buns squash together as they rise. Leave somewhere warm covered with a clean damp tea towel until doubled in size and then bake at 200 degrees C for 15-20 minutes.
* While still hot glaze with 50g caster sugar briefly boiled with 3 tablespoons water.
* For crosses, either make a stiff glace icing with icing sugar and lemon juice and pipe on, or add marzipan crosses for the last 5 minutes of baking. We like them both ways equally.

2011-04-21T18:27:00.000+01:00

We were walking through the woods when I became so fed up of feeling like a mere spectator, with the energy of the woodland lost to me, that I took off my sandals and walked barefoot. Soon both children joined me - Mouse anxiously peering and tiptoeing, Kitten running ahead and leaping joyfully. It was magical - we really felt part of the woods - we were able to feel the cool and the warm areas, the soft and the hard, the prickly and the smooth. From now on I will always walk barefoot in the woods and feel at one with Mama Earth!

Blessings on 19th April

2011-04-19T18:31:00.000+01:00

* waking up and snuggling in bed, hearing only birdsong through the open window, as if we lived in the countryside rather than the heart of a city.

* having yesterday's birthday boy actually at home with us and finding many opportunities for a cuddle and a kiss.

* breakfast, lunch and supper outside under the apple blossom, petals falling like snow - and explaining to Kitten that yes, it seems sad to see the blossom go, but unless they do we cannot watch the apples grow and blush pink.

* purposeful work for my sweet little girl, pegging out her own little wash on her own little line.

* making plans and plans and plans with my husband.

* fun brother-and-sister games that go from reasonably sedate....

....to bacchanalian revels, starkers in the mudhole, necessitating baths in the outside sink before we could even begin to imagine letting them into the real bath inside.

* a lovely surprise in the mail from a dear friend - more on that when I get a chance to get good photos!

* children's sewing brightening our window while we wait to see the birthday girl and the love for a friend that motivated it

* a walk hand in hand with my dear love

2011-04-17T19:52:00.000+01:00

Sweet Miss Coco had a happy day. Lots of cuddles and kisses.

Of course the day wasn't actually about her. We had a family get-together to celebrate Kitten turning 4 last Monday and Oscar turning 36 this coming Monday.

Darling Kitten had a new kitty given to her by her aunty and a backback from her other aunty and uncle. Oscar had books, chocolate and tools. We all ate coffee and walnut cake in the sunshiney garden.

My Oscar got to spend some time with his FT and the coffee pot in the sun, with his little furry friend to keep him warm when the clouds skipped across the sky.

But how could I not spend all day delighting in my furry girl?

I am SO thankful for my puppy. Oscar just spoiled us for life, I think. How did we live without a cosy little armful of fluff to snuffle and kiss and play with?

And Mademoiselle Coco's favourite part of the day?

This: when she stole Mouse's second slice of cake from his plate and ran up the garden trying to scoff it all down as fast as possible.

2011-04-12T14:02:00.000+01:00

[jumping waves]

We are shocked that she is 4. In so many ways she has always seemed older because she is so advanced in her speech and gross and fine motor skills. Today, at the lingerie store, she perched on a stool and flicked through a brochure while I endured a fitting, picking out the matching turquoise and scarlet bra and knicker sets she plans on having "when my booms grow". And before we went out? She was oh so little, crying for cuddles because it had been too long since she spent all night cradled in my arms.

[relishing the end results of the rock making demo]

This little girl of ours is [almost] always delightful. She enters into life wholeheartedly.She loves with all her heart. Her squeezes are enthusiastic. Her songs are exuberant. Watching her dancing is like watching a flame burn.

[jump jump]

She is all about growing up these days. Making career plans. Will she be a nun, a fairy, a doctor, a shop lady? Decisions, decisions....

[big bruv]

She loves vibrant colours, bold patterns, layering her clothes in a visual cacophany of stripes, spots, florals. She likes bare feet. She plays at cooking "soily herbs" in the garden and comes in each time with filthy fingernails from her digging and playing.

[springs for heels]

She has messy curls [including the all important little curl in the middles of her forehead], scabby knees, rosy cheeks and long long legs. She loves to run, to dance, to climb.

[chips in a cone from the market - childhood memories for me!]

She is desperate to learn to read, to write, to knit and to sew. She loves to help cook. She wants to do everything grown ups can do.

[a big new number]

She loves God so much. She talks to Him and He apparently talks back. She bravely spent a long time believing she had to be crucified before she could go to heaven. She wants to recieve Holy Communion and has her dress and veil all planned.

[flowers for his little girl: melts my heart every year]

She is the sweetheart who comes running to comfort anyone who cries, who keeps an eye on any little one who may need her "help". She wants to carry anyone she loves - no dog, cat or even only slightly smaller child is safe near her.

[oh so cold that north sea!]

She lives in a world of imagination. She amazes me with her ideas and the way her dreams, stories, plays and pictures all work together to provide a glimpse into her psyche. Today she was "Rosie", a little girl thrown out of her cottage in the forest by a cruel mother, and who has come home with us to become part of our family. Right now she is a king and is busy perfecting a suitably "majesty" way to carry a bin lid. I have no idea why.

[a donkey called Mr Darcy!]

She worries that unless she changes into a man she will not be good at running. Being good at running is apparently Very Important. Her solution to this dilemma, as proposed while sharing a bath with me on her last day of being three, is to shoot a man, glue his skin onto her body and get a pair of shoes that light up when she runs. That will solve all her problems it seems.

[candy floss for the first time!]

We enjoy her so much. Her cheerfulness, kindness, helpfulness. Her sense of humour and that giggle. The way she is so true to herself, so comfortable in her own skin. She conforms to no stereotype. She is just her own self.

[nana trades fairy cakes for kisses]

Her ambitions right now are to ride a horse, knit a jumper, drive a car ["I'll even look where I'm going"], keep chickens ["I won't scream or do anything when they peck"], build a little house ["next to yours mama"], and to own a cat called Peppermint and a guinea pig called Ginger.

[birthday cuddles from her poppa and her nana]

We are so glad we are yours and you are ours, baby love. You are my sweet chick and I will always have a wing to tuck you under. Thank you for brightening our lives and being so vibrantly, beautifully, ardently your lovely self. May God bless you

Jumping for Joy

2011-04-11T20:54:00.000+01:00

Our sweet "baby" girl turned 4 today and has been spending it jumping for the sheer joy of being all grown up, enjoying a day at the seaside and eating lots of junk food!

2011-04-05T07:42:00.000+01:00

Would you like to join Catholics around the world in giving Pope Benedict a truly special 84th birthday present on April 16th?

If you want to offer up a novena of prayers for him alongside 83,999 other people, click over to Pray More Novenas to sign up. You will get daily email prompts which is the part that convinces even me that I can actually stick to it for 9 whole days!

Mothering Sunday

2011-04-02T22:29:00.000+01:00

When I was a little girl I often went out and picked primroses growing in the damp banks and ditches of a nearby farm to give to my mum for Mothering Sunday. I "picked" these with my camera last weekend at Mum's birthday party and as she is very nicest mummy in the world, these flowers are for her - with all my love.

Today I also want to send flowers to all the mamas in the world. May you see the beauty and dignity of your vocation reflected back to you in the eyes of your children. May you believe in yourself, in your wisdom and capacity to be the mother your own babies need. May you find all the grace and tenderness you share with you children poured back into you as your children grow and learn and become the men and women they were born to be.

May your children know to the depths of their souls how much you love them and may you always have patience and perseverance for the work of motherhood. May the days of little ones pass slowly for you, every moment treasured up in your heart, and may your big ones never completely untie that last apron string. May you find great joy in watching every step of your children's lives, from the first wobbly attempt to stand up all the way to making their own journey as parents or in some other adult vocation.

May you find comfort and mothering for the little girl who still looks out through your eyes and needs to be loved, to know herself truly precious. May you find support to strengthen you, whatever point in your mothering adventure you are in. And may the Lord God bless you and be with you as you share in His great task of creating and nurturing life.

2011-03-31T16:00:00.000+01:00

This makes me smile. At my mum's birthday party on Sunday, Mouse took the camera and wandered about snapping away. When I uploaded them they were all of food - shot after shot of chilli, salad, bottles of drink, cheesecake, and this picture of Kitten oggling the tortilla chips. When we asked Mouse if he liked the party he did say "oh yes, I had LOTs to eat!" and it seems as if he truly did have food on the brain.

Hoping

2011-03-29T13:56:00.000+01:00

The worst thing about hitting rock bottom is - well, hitting rock bottom, obviously. Spending a day leaking endless tears, feeling utterly alone, helpless in the face of a problem I cannot solve, allowing myself to believe that God is too far from me and I am too unworthy to beg Him to come closer, a day of holding hurting children and wishing someone was here to hold me, a day when I bathe and blow dry the puppy for something simple to do with my hands and then soak her little head with my tears all over again.... But I always, always, visualise it the same way. I am genuinely terrified of deep water, so it makes sense that in my mind I see myself literally hitting rock bottom, down in the terrible squeezing darkness of very deep water, and my feet touching down on the sea bed - and then kicking, kicking hard, and going back up. That moment of rebounding back up, of kicking and seeing light above me, and knowing there is air to breath up there is such a clear image - almost a physical sensation - of hope to me. I know that when things get that bad, the only way to go is back up again. So a day like this is in equal parts composed of despair and hope. I am kicking my way back up the light and air, simply because I have to. I am choosing hope. There is always some little thing I can do. Right now? Make the beds, go pick some flowers from the garden, make a pot of tea, put on some lovely chant music, bake bread with the children, light lots of candles at supper, let the children have bubble baths by candlelight before prayers, stories and bed. And then, for me, more tea, more candles, maybe write some letters, knit a little, have an early night....Whatever I have energy to do. Joining my little girl in her nest of pillows and quilts and snuggling with the puppy sounds so good! If you are reading this (this blog feels like letters in a bottle and cast out to sea sometimes!) and have a moment, I would greatly appreciate prayers. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

2011-03-27T03:21:00.000+01:00

[helping his sister to ride his bike]

Sometimes, in the midst of life, it is easy to forget the real truth of how blessed I am. I try to always remember it - but then I discover that yet again I am not living out the fullness of the truth of my blessedness: it gets left on a shelf like an old trophy, half-forgotten, dusty and tarnished.

[pup at the park]

It is such a joy to be the mother to these children. Waiting so long for motherhood meant that it is doubly precious to me - I am not speaking for all mothers, but I know for me, I prize my children more, knowing how hard won the privilege of motherhood was.

[heart-melting]

Being an adoptive mama makes me feel my children are even greater treasures - I know that they have already lost so much, endured so much. All I can is protect my own two babies, work with them on becoming the best and happiest people they can become.

[our biggest pup]

It is hard to be a parent. Harder to be the parent who is with the children all day, all night, all week, week after week. And even harder to be parenting a child who is struggling to cope with life. Yet, what a blessing to be the one helping someone in need, serving God by serving the little ones He has given me to. What a blessing to have a chance to be the happy memory that lasts a lifetime, to be the arms and lap, gentle voice and kissing lips that will always mean love and security.

[our sweet boy]

I feel so rich. This is the life I always wanted. Sometimes I just to remind myself of the fact. All I ever wanted was to be a wife and mummy. That my dream came true is something I can't quite believe. What did I do to deserve this?

[a little froggy friend]

Yes, quite often I ask that question in a very different tone of voice! Sometimes my children are more like slimy old frogs than a little prince and princess. But a kiss or two or twelve fixes that. A little loving - and the frog is gone.

[my daffodil fairy]

Friday was a happy day of walks, ballet lessons, reading stories in bed, playing in the garden, R.E. lessons, maths tests, cooking together. Today was a happy day of making lemon curd, baking a birthday cake for my mummy, shopping, ironing, gardening, jiu jitsu lessons, story time. Life is very good right now. These are the days I will look back on and miss. The physical, emotional and mental exhaustion won't matter. I will miss my little frogs just as much as I will miss their royal alter egos. I am so happy that this is my life. God gave me this. And I love Him for it!

2011-03-25T19:51:00.000Z

Oh Spring has truly sprung. Our walks each morning are idyllic. The birds are singing from every tree and bush, and there is so much of a treasure hunt, watching the birds and guessing where their nests are hidden.

The frogs are back in the pond. They have been lurking there for some time, but now there is spawn heaped up like jewels in the water.

The blossom is full of bees. There is such a joy in standing under a tree, holding our breaths and listening to the bees humming from the petals - it feels like sharing a secret with them somehow.

We walk around, looking at the flowers and talking about which ones are our favourites.

Starting our days with a walk is balm to our souls. Little legs are stretched, cobwebs are blown away, cheeks bloom with roses, one dog plods along at my side and the pupster snuggles up in her sling, and we go home feeling a little bit more peaceful and ready for our day to begin.

Here we are in the heart of a city, despite our country-loving natures, and yet even here we find such beauty and peace.

2011-03-23T10:55:00.000Z

We are still so in love. Buying a puppy was a moment of madness and generosity taken to the extreme by my sweet, loving and indulgent husband. And oh my goodness, this darling poodle pup has just blessed our family so much!

She is a perfect little companion for naptimes, poorly girls, a mama who wants some company and cuddles after small people have gone to bed...and just anytime really... I love her caramel nose, her teeny little tail, the way she plays with the children until they are laughing, her soft curls, her popcorn paws, the smell of her tummy, the way she brings out the inner pup in our old dog, her biscuity ears, her funny yawns, the tinkling of her St Francis medal and ID tag as she runs about the house and garden, her soulful hazel eyes...I love every little inch of her!

Thank you Oscar!

2011-03-22T10:42:00.000Z

We had a fun package this week, from Miri. I won her giveaway in January but the parcel disappeared somewhere between her post office and our front door. Miri really kindly sent me another book [which Kitten will be using to start learning her letters - either right now if she has her way, or in about another year if I get my way!] And so much more! Cute hand knitted socks for the children, a knitting nancy, tea, kits to make badges, the world's coolest rainbow crayon [I am seriously trying to keep this for my own pleasure but the little rainbow lovers won't let me!] and some wishing candles, from Miri's menorah - one of her family traditions that has charmed my children too.

Thanks Miri!

2011-03-21T10:15:00.000Z

A candle is burning at Our Lady's feet today in memory of a truly wonderful woman, our former neighbour. Just by chance, we discovered yesterday that Kate tragically died in February. Kate was just such an inspiration to me - she was so warm and friendly, love flowed out of her to everyone she met, and she was the most amazing gentle, tender mother to her precious children. To be honest, around Kate, I felt awful that I dared to call myself a Christian because she so outshone any effort I could ever make to be loving and caring.

May God be a comfort to her family in their grieving.

2011-03-16T11:27:00.000Z

This Lent, our children have given up chocolate, among other things. But not all chocolate....

....because this little lady joined the family yesterday!

Little Miss Coco, 12 weeks old, and pure chocolately poodle goodness from her the tip of her sweet caramel nose all the way down to the cute little waggy-wagster she has going on at the other end.

Lent

2011-03-08T11:41:00.000Z

I am joining my thoughts with Kitten's -who has been thinking about the darkness of the church on Easter Saturday night and the thrilling moments when the fire is kindled and the candles are lit and the light and the voice of the deacon fills the great space. It is magical in the best sense - transformation. Light and alleluias and joy and glory. This will be the children's first Easter Vigil and also the year when their Dada will become a Catholic. It will be extra special. Oh, not to forget the Easter baskets!

But first, the desert time...so I am off to immerse myself in an experience of God, with all my soul, heart, mind and will.

RIP, Mr Tommy Youngster

2011-03-08T11:10:00.000Z

Mousie's beloved hamster, Mr Tommy Youngster, died yesterday. Mouse went up to feed him lettuce, wondered why he didn't get up, and, worried that he was ill, lifted him from his nest - only to be confronted by death for the first time.

Mr Tommy was a lovely boy and we all took part in his funeral and, after dark, we drove to the coast and launched a candle boat to carry Mouse's prayers and wishes for Mr Tommy - and unfortunately the tide was coming in and the boat was immediately swamped and the candle blown out by the wind. Mouse had also asked for incense, and that was more successful as we were able to get it smouldering, say prayers for Mr Tommy and leave the little glow and spirals of smoke to carry our prayers up to heaven as we walked back to the car.

Loving it

2011-03-04T19:37:00.000Z

The gorgeous blue skies and the teeny tiny buds on the oak.

Pegging laundry on the line for the first time this year.

Back to home education again after our illness - Mouse was learning about the meaning of the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

Kitten was learning about the order of the liturgy of the word.

Daffodils from my baby sister who called in for tea and toast after having her acupuncture session.

Kitten's hyacinths finally showing some colour and scenting the dining room.

Children laughing and playing again.

Flowers from my husband - he almost always buys me iris because they were the first flowers he bought me, back when we were mere children. And, which made me smile more, during his appointment with our priest, they discussed a wedding blessing after Oscar is received into the Church this Easter! Dream come true time....

Starting to plan out the spring cleaning I will be doing during Lent and doing the more important talking and thinking about the spiritual housecleaning to come.

The darling cheery little faces that smile in at my kitchen window.

2011-03-03T10:47:00.000Z

Last night I sat and stitched quietly away at Mama Earth and two of her babies, Snowdrop and Daffodil, a couple of her children to be found playing in our garden at the moment. I am still undecided whether to leave Mama Earth with her bonnet or a wreath of flowers - the children prefer the bonnet, so it will probably stay.

Mouse and Oscar are away today on a driving job, Mousie carrying the lunch bag very importantly, and full of excitement as my husband's employer said he would hide a loaded water pistol under the seat for Mouse! Kitten is feeling better today - I asked for prayers for her and told her she would be feeling better today and, thanks be to God, she is herself again. She helped me needlefelt a green flower meadow for the nature "table". [I love how different it looks already with the growing things, the budding twigs, the new figures and the green meadow - Spring is coming!] It is a blessed relief to hear her singing and wanting to be busy again - and as I type she is dancing and singing "The post has arrived with great excitement to be with its new mother!" How I love love love to have my own happy Kitten-with-ballet-toes back again.!

And Kitten was actually excited about post today when a parcel came with her new ballet dancer water bottle - and how lovely that stainless steel bottles are now so freely and cheaply available and in colourful designs! I was excited by my parcel - 210 fairy tales in a lovely hardback edition! I previously would look up fairy tales on line to read or print out to put in my home ed file, before telling them to the children, but this will be such a richer and more lovely experience. My break time is over now so I will get back to reading through the delicious stack of Spring books I carried downstairs yesterday much to the children's joy - the thrill of "new" books that are at the same time familiar friends makes swapping books out seasonally such a winner in our home.

So I knew we have been ill...

2011-03-02T16:14:00.000Z

...when I stand by the open window breathing in fresh air like its champagne and when going up the garden to put recycling in the wheely bin feels like a treat and I am surpised to see how springlike the garden is looking.

...when my usually radiant boy looks so pale. He has had such horrible earaches with this virus.

Thankfully today he has played a little but has mostly curled up on the sofa or the window seat and nibbled at pieces of bread with sprinkles on the butter to tempt his appetite.

...when the postman delivers a package from Myriad and a parcel from Amazon on the same day and nobody is fighting me to be first to open them and see inside, and even I aren't that interested!

...when my little darling sleeps away the day. She has not been able to keep down any food or water since Monday. She just lies there and sleeps. Even the brand new playdough I made them last night didn't attract her attention. Poor sweet baby. She silently cries when she is sick.

...when I was putting away clean laundry and realised that it was all pyjamas - only my husband has been wearing clothes and going outside. Tomorrow I will get dressed!

What was I thinking....

2011-03-01T20:23:00.000Z

...when I thought it was cute to let my poorly girl eat what she fancied because she was crying from hunger - that chocolate fudge cake was a whole lot less cute when it came hurtling back up again at 2am all over the family bed.

...when I thought I could quickly patch Kitten's leggings and her lovely new purple dress that she [sob] took the scissors too. She had lots of ideas about what the patches should be like - with the result that the new dress now has a vintage pieced patchwork patch that is, in my opinion, the wrong colour and too big but she loves it so why should I care? It's her dress.

...when I decided the second half of the second sock I'm knitting for my husband was a good place to start converting to continental knitting. I think it will be great when I have it mastered [and already, when I get into the rhythm it is so much smoother than english style] but this is neither the time nor the place to start on the journey to mastery - only, now I have started I will have to grimly carry on until I finish, because that is just the way I am.

...when I started on a doll's house bedroom makeover, hoping it would be a quick half hour activity. Two mattresses, two pillows, two quilts, a cushion and a rug later, we all think it looks lovely but I did little else all day, what with the mending, but sit sewing in the rocking chair and holding Kitten's sick bowl for her.

...every time I gave in to my poor Kitten's pleas for something to eat or drink, only to need to grab the aforementionned bowl soon afterwards. When Mouse was being sick, he just lay around and didn't want to eat or drink - Kitten can't stay still and gets frantic for food and drink, but that doesn't work out so well for her.

2011-02-28T08:07:00.000Z

Saturday night had its own quiet sort of magic. Mouse and Oscar went out to get chinese food, and Kitten insisted on lighting a dozen candles on the table "because it is a special day". I love it when the children somehow find an ordinary moment special and start trying to join in and make it more wonderful.

The sniffly children and I snuggled by the fire and talked about how lovely it was to just sit and watch it - noticing how once it caught hold it was like burning water pouring up the chimney [in Mouse's words] and then how it quieted itself and became what Kitten called peaceful. We played Uno. We read. We tickled. Ah, bliss.

Sunday morning, my little ones were still unwell; this has been a long, horrid winter for illnesses with us. So we were up very early, and they sat coughing and snuffling in pjs, playing lego [building "scrappy challenge fighting race cars" apparently] while we kept an eye on the show being put on in the garden by the birds - we had a jay who keeps appearing and trying to carry away a string of peanuts tied to the apple tree and he was top of the bill.

And there is a sort of comfort in this too - the pleasures of a quiet, peaceful and rare Sunday morning at home, of being well myself and pampering the children a little rather than sharing the misery with them, of the different rhythm in a Sunday without Mass, of having garden-y thoughts with no danger of feeling obliged to go and actually labour in the garden, listening to Sunday morning radio rather than a homily in church.

No question where we'd rather be, which is obviously in radiant health and our usual pew at church, but Jesus was here with us too. There is something that feels holy about showing compassion to my little chicks, roasting A Very Garlicky Chicken to tempt their appetites, helping Kitten blow her nose, coaching Mim through his difficult moments, and all with a feeling of something being different, because we were not in our usual pre-church routine but just hanging out with the coffee pot [me] and the lego [them].

And that, the point when I start counting blessings and immersing myself wholeheartedly [whole souledly, I'd say if the word existed] in the moment-by-moment given to me by God is when I start finding the rainbows: the joy of God is the sunshine that turns the rain of sickness and missing Mass into something astonishing and beautiful. Which is pretty much the only "philosophy" I have but it works for me.

Busy hands

2011-02-26T16:15:00.000Z

I was really happy to find this lovely, mossy, licheny pussy willow branch lying on the tarmac at the supermarket this morning. Normally our groceries are delivered [for which I thank God!] but the delivery men don't usually scope out the premises for pussy willows for me which is a downside to the lazy way of shopping. I love this glimpse of spring's slow coming on our creation/nature table.

We are on a handwork roll at the moment. Yesterday we wall papered the doll's house and made a table for the dolls from a nice chunk of sycamore wood [posh people used to like sycamore tables because it takes a shine so well according to my husband and our doll family is just so upper crust, even if their table is not that shiny]. Today both children beavered away at a small log of hazel wood to create photo/postcard holders: one for us and one for Mouse's friend and godbrother who turns 7 next week.

There is something so satisfying about sanding and then rubbing beeswax cream all over a piece of wood.

Our finished holder - proudly displaying a card sent to us by a very kind elderly friend, to thank the children for the valentines they sent to her and her sister-in-law. Both ladies are in their 90s [ "Aunty" L will be 100 this year, God willing] and sadly not in good health, so getting a lovely card in return was a special surprise.

And, while he is currently at work building a cupboard in our sitting room, my carpenter recently built me a stand to display my stained glass panel of the Virgin and Child on the kitchen windowsill, from a piece of american ash. I love having the glass at eye-level as I wash up, rather than dangling in the window above my head. I love having things my love makes for me - my most favourite is the crucifix he made from an old plum tree in his mother's garden [there's a photo of that in a post from a few days ago.]

And I was productive too - baking fruit rock cakes, choc chip rock cakes and blueberry and cranberry muffins.

So despite the forlornly rain-splattered window panes [actually we've been transplanting some trees and rose bushes so we welcome the rain!] we're feeling quite productive and happy this weekend. Kitten's bulbs are slowly growing and finding their way up towards whatever sun appears each day, and like them I know spring is round the corner. Hooray!

2011-02-23T14:24:00.000Z

My expectations were for a swift walk at the park. It was raining and we had work to do when we got home. But life is life and has a rhythm of its own. The children found a large puddle and they started to splash and dance in it. Then Kitten began to bob down in a knee-to-the-ground curtsey, and next they were both sitting down in the puddle. After I took this photo they began to lie down and roll over in the puddle. I stood nearby with the dog and watched, remembering to smile rather than look horrified, and then we came soggily home in squelching wellies, changed into warm pjs, flung wet and dirty clothes in the washing machine, and made hot chocolate [or warm chocolate as I must call it here].

It wasn't what I had planned and nor was it what I was comfortable with but the children loved doing something so "naughty" as rolling about in a puddle and it made the day different, that's for sure.