Marie (cuddling next to me and sighing deeply): Wouldn't it be great if Life was all just hugging and kissing your Mommy?
Marie (cuddling next to me and sighing deeply): Wouldn't it be great if Life was all just hugging and kissing your Mommy?
Posted by Alice Gunther on March 28, 2007 in Humor, Kid Quotes | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBack (0)
Patrick (in the kitchen): Maur-reeeeeeennnn, STOP!!!
Me (calling from the next room): What's the matter?
Patrick: Maureen was teasing me about the Top Ten Healthy Foods!
*******
Well, all righty then.
If you would like to see the list of the Top Ten Healthy Foods, something I have obviously discussed with the children since reading it--although I did not figure it would lead to mockery--check out Kristen and Suzanne's cooking blog, The Virtual Kitchen.
Posted by Alice Gunther on March 25, 2007 in Humor, Kid Quotes | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)
"Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Oh-o-o, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble. Were you there when they crucified my Lord?"
--Negro Spiritual, sung each year at our parish Lenten Pageant
The Children's Living Stations of the Cross at our local parish are as anticipated a part of our Lenten season as ashes, palm, and purple. We are blessed with a director who truly loves the project and participants, treating all the children under her direction with infinite kindness and care.
This year, eleven-year-old Theresa was especially excited, musing more than once, "Wouldn't it be great if they asked me to play the Blessed Mother?"
"If they do, you will play the role perfectly," I told her with frank mother's admiration, adding, "but please do not be disappointed if they don't!"
"Oh, I won't," she assured me stoutly, "I'll be happy with whatever part I get."
The evening of the first practice rolled around with a flurry of snowflakes and flutter of anticipation. By the time we arrived, the three younger children were dozing in their carseats, and I decided to wait outside, giving one last instruction to the girls: "Please keep an eye on Marie, and, whatever you do, remember we are team players. Be happy with any parts you get, and make them the best they can be." With nods of assent, my four young actresses took off, and I spent a quiet hour jotting ideas in my journal, praying part of a Rosary, and wondering how the girls were making out.
Before long, four figures emerged from the church. Theresa and Margaret, beaming with excitement, raced ahead of the others to the car. "I'm playing the Blessed Mother!" Margaret announced in joy mingled with a note of amazement, adding, "Can you believe it, Mom?" Theresa looked perfectly happy, chiming in with honest pride, "Isn't she going to be great?" I was glad for Margaret, but not a little surprised. She is only nine-years-old, and the part of Our Lady is usually reserved for a sixth grader. "Margaret, honey, that's fantastic," I assured her, still wondering how such a thing could have come about and scanning eleven-year-old Theresa's face for traces of disappointment. It was not long before a story unfolded.
When the girls first arrived, the director had greeted Theresa with the good news that *she* would be playing Our Lady. Theresa was overjoyed, but, within a few minutes, it became clear that this might not be a perfect arrangement. The Pageant did not have enough taller children signed up (and very few boys), and Theresa was the only one the right height to fit into the costume . . . of a soldier! The director asked her if she might switch parts, leaving nine-year-old Margaret as the next in line for the role of Mary. Remembering my admonition about being "team players" and glad to see her sister in the coveted role, Theresa cheerfully accepted this change of fortune, trading in the promise of a flowing blue mantle for a clanking coat of chain mail.
How can I reflect upon this unexpected turn of events? My little girl (no longer "little" in reality, but forever so to me) has shown what it is to go beyond talking about Lenten sacrifice and self-denial, and to live it out willingly and unflinchingly, in a spirit of obedience and love. The bud opens its first petals to reveal the color of the rose it will one day become.
I am looking forward to seeing Margaret play Our Lady, and my pride in her cannot be overstated, but you may be sure my camera will be clicking wildly to capture the pretty soldier standing tall behind the Cross.
Posted by Alice Gunther on March 17, 2007 in Current Affairs, Faith, Feast Days, Kid Quotes, Mothering, Pondering | Permalink | Comments (29) | TrackBack (0)
Patrick: Did you know that Quetzels live in the Rain Forest?
Maureen (adamantly): No, they DON'T, Pat--they live in the kitchen!
Patrick (after a moment's pause): Are you talking about pretzels?
Maureen: Yes!
Posted by Alice Gunther on March 12, 2007 in Humor, Kid Quotes | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)
Five-year-old Patrick: "With Eileen, everything's fun. Without Eileen, nothing's fun!"
Posted by Alice Gunther on March 06, 2007 in Kid Quotes | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBack (0)
The title of this piece might make it sound like a comedy, but truthfully, it is more an evening rumination and hand wringing than anything else--the late night shudder of a mother thinking back upon the bullets dodged in an average day.
I was standing near the stove lining up ingredients for pancakes and engrossed in Margaret's opinion of Otto of the Silver Hand when I heard a subtle hiss, an empty sound like a tire spewing a crisp quiet stream of air. Looking to its source, I saw little Maureen poised in the middle of the kitchen with the nozzle of a can of WD-40 in her *mouth,* pressing down delightedly as if expecting whipped cream!!! I was upon her in an instant, checking her tongue and throat, calling indiscriminately to find out how such an article could have made its way into our toddler's hands, and relieved to find that her feeble baby fingers had not succeeded in releasing the wretched stuff inside her mouth. I could just make out the "DANGER: Keep out of reach of children. Harmful or fatal if swallowed" notice as I squirreled the dreadful can away to top of the refrigerator.
Hours later, during our peaceful evening story hour, Agnes read aloud from Anne of Avonlea. She was just getting to the moment in which Anne tells Mr. Harrison she has sold his Jersey cow, when I gasped to see Patrick, beaming with delight and wielding a weighty Duraflame log (not lit, fear not) toward his giggling sister Margaret. It was part of a lively game to which she was an encouraging participant, and he had no intention of actually hitting her. What he did not realize, however, as he pretended to hurl the hefty weapon toward his foe, was that another little one was at hand. Eight-month-old Eileen, so new to crawling she is still a bit of a surprise to us all whenever she turns up, was teetering on all fours beneath him, her fuzzy head in a plumb line beneath Patrick's haphazard burden. I sounded the alarm and Margaret caught the log just as my string-bean-armed little guy was beginning to lose his grip directly above the Eileen's head.
And so, my dears, these are two scenes from our Ash Wednesday, and I must say, it feels as if God is sending a gentle but timely reminder that the status quo is fragile, and trouble could sweep in in an instant. An unremarkable day is perhaps His greatest gift to us, a gift His holy angels work overtime to provide. May I never forget to give thanks each time I kiss seven healthy children good night, and may my heart never desire anything more in life than this.
Deo gratias!
*******
Addendum: For a beautiful reflection on the life of a child and thankfulness for the everyday, please do not miss my dear friend Beck's Twenty Two Months Old.
Posted by Alice Gunther on February 22, 2007 in Faith, Kid Quotes, Mothering, Pondering | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBack (0)
Maureen (puckering her lips and looking wistful): Mom, I wish I could kiss my head . . . but I can't.
Posted by Alice Gunther on February 01, 2007 in Humor, Kid Quotes | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)
Friday it was cold, extremely cold, mind numbingly, bone chillingly cold.
Saturday it was warmer, cheerily warmer, ice thawingly, mud meltingly warmer.
Today it was Springtime, bright blessed springtime, birds singingly, pipes burstingly springtime . . . .
That's right dear friends, the theme for this week is: MASSIVE DESTRUCTION.
It seems, horrified readers, that a pipe froze on Friday, thawed on Saturday, and proceeded to rain down on our furniture and books for, oh, about a day and a half.
The girls had been looking for a diversion this afternoon and asked permission to go next door to the cottage to make fairies. Moments later, the ill-fated party returned bellowing and breathless, barely coherent with cryptic ejaculations of "hissing sound!" "ceiling down!" and "sopping books!"
Dh and I sprang to our feet and were standing amidst the wreckage in a trice, not believing our eyes. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, the paint on the walls was bubbling, my wooden furniture was peeling, and our school books, notes and projects looked like noodles in a can of Campbell's. I think if the Superintendent of Public Schools could have shown up at that moment (preferably toting a chainsaw, or maybe just a really rusty pencil sharpener), we would have had all the elements of the perfect homeschooler's horror movie.
Here are some spine-tingling previews of the would-be flick now:
Here is a bit of melodrama for you: Do you see the soaking white pouch on top of "The Wheels on the Bus"? (Bottom Left.) It is one of the bags from "A New Beginning."
This Hail Mary Angel was a gift from our beloved neighbors when we moved from our old house. With a bit of cleaning up, she will return to her rightful place of honor in our learning room:
The funny part is--and I do not know why--this does not bother me! Yes, I was sorry to lose the books, particularly the children's projects (a year's worth of Agnes' artwork for example, not to mention a book of religious poetry inherited from my father), but isn't this really why Our Lord said:
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and decay destroy, and thieves break in and steal. But store up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be." Mt. 6: 19-21.
Honestly, I am not at all trying to sound saintly or sanctimonious. (Truth be told, much of my calm comes from the naive belief that a good portion of this will be paid by our insurance company. Believe me, if my photo albums had been on those shelves I would have cried like a baby.) Still, maybe I am becoming a bit more mature. Perhaps, after thirty-nine years of seeing objects come and go, I am finally figuring out how not to put too much of my heart into things that are passing away with all speed. Seeing my husband set to work hauling and hefting, mopping and airing, all I could think about was the blessing it is to have a sturdy and steadfast husband--my prayer is that our problems may always be this inconsequential!
As for the books, I was starting to feel that our curriculum lacked pizzazz this year. There is no doubt--none whatsoever--that, freed from the bondage of certain Math, Language Arts, and Spelling standards, we will have more time to pursue the things we *love,* and learning will go on. It will flourish like a tree newly pruned.
I am seeing lots of Montfort, Montgomery, Shakespeare, Homer, Comstock, Caroll, and Keats in our future. Rejoice with us!
*******
A word to MacBeth: Do you see that sopping pile of books? The ones on the very top of the right hand bookshelf in the first picture? Well, that's the Jacques Cousteau trilogy you sent home with Patrick last Halloween. We will not be returning them, but I think you will agree that at least they met a fitting end.
Most hilarious phrase choice of the day: A dear friend called to see if we would still be getting together tomorrow. I told her my sob story, and she was very understanding. "It's OK," she said, "we'll take a rain check!"
Posted by Alice Gunther on January 28, 2007 in Faith, Humor, January Activities, Kid Quotes, Making Lemonade, Pondering | Permalink | Comments (45) | TrackBack (0)
Mom: So, Patrick, do you like The Long Winter?
Patrick: Nope.
Mom (surprised): Really, why not?
Patrick: It's long!
*******
Life imitated art in the cottage tonight.
To begin with, I served the family a meal to mirror the one we had been reading about in The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder--pot roast, pan gravy, mashed potatoes--it was everything a snowed-in pioneer family with dwindling provisions could desire. The girls, bless their hearts, instantly recognized my purpose, entering right into character. With one or two pointed remarks about "running low on flour," "the train from the east" and "burning straw," dinner was passed most pleasantly, although we all missed Pa who was apparently out in the stable tending to the stock.
Later on, Ma was washing up with Mary and Laura, when Mary remarked upon how determinedly cold the kitchen seemed. (Blindness sharpens the other senses.) The indefatiguable Laura looked wide-eyed and shivery, and even Ma had to admit that the sink water was running rather icily.
Sure enough, our heat was out--in real life--and no crisis has ever been better timed!
With all the gravity and unflappable level-headedness of Ma, I told the children we must pass the time as best we could until the heater could be fixed, ordering them to wear their warmest nightclothes. [They change into pajamas every night--why is it that tonight the process seemed--and was--magical?] They were back in a flash and all smiles, with Marie sporting an ensemble that could best be described as a "get-up": a too-short red plaid nightgown, stray ballerina pajama pants, and a lamb-studded pink button down sweater. Crowning the effort most emphatically was mommy's brown felt hat, absurdly cute when worn by a seven year old and tilted just so. Our intrepid girl looked as if she could have held out until Spring and quite possibly intended to do just that.
Still in character as Mary and Laura, the older girls swaddled Maureen (our Grace) in toasty blankets, and we all huddled together in the big four poster bed upstairs to read. The advancing chill added to the ambiance, so that it was a joy to begin each new chapter--The Wheat in the Wall, Not Really Hungry, For Daily Bread, Four Days' Blizzard--surrounded by those bright-eyed blanket-bound listeners. Patrick and Maureen dozed on a pillow next to me, and the older girls lounged comfortably on all sides. I half expected to hear Pa's fiddle ring out in the distance or perhaps the windswept whir of a storm brewing, but the next sound we heard was a smart rap on the front door.
No, gentle readers, it was not Mr. Edwards or even Almanzo Wilder, but only the oil burner repair man. The moment his unmistakable poundings met Ma's ear, she thrust baby Grace (by this time played by understudy Eileen) to the nearest empty-handed girl and bounded off to let him in, returning to 2007 by way of the front stairs and ending our little fantasy for the night.
But, oh, it was fun while it lasted!
Posted by Alice Gunther on January 22, 2007 in Home Education, Homemaking, Humor, January Activities, Kid Quotes, Literature, Making Lemonade, Mothering | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBack (0)
As I was tucking her into bed tonight, two-and-a-half year old Maureen mused about the morrow, asking, with a typical toddler's grasp of reality, "Mommy, in the morning, can we go to the pet store and get Patrick a fish? And then get Marie a doll? And then get me a doll?" I grinned to hear her generous, yet self-serving scheme, but before I could utter a word, baby Eileen beamed with shining eyes, clapped those two dimpled palms together for joy, and rang out a long note of assent clear as a bell, "Yayyyyy!!!!!"
Now I ask you: Does "Yay" qualify as a first word?
Here are the two dear little planners in a photo taken today. And, that's right folks, we here at the cottage obviously do not believe in wiping children's faces after they eat!
Posted by Alice Gunther on January 15, 2007 in Humor, Kid Quotes | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBack (0)