Climb Every Mountain

Once we finished breakfast, Laura resumed her favorite activity of standing against the window. It's freezing cold outside, and we were not going anywhere near that windchill.

She can climb up on the couch now, using the little step stool, and up on the edge. And when Laura's done, she can slide herself off the couch via belly. I've always thought the couch was a nice height when Grace was learning to creep, but it's absolutely fascinating watching my ten month old become so mobile. 

She's simply fearless, for better and worse. I've always been more cautious, and I love encouraging my daughter in a safe zone of exploration. 

Will is "gone" for the month - Philadelphia for his pediatric ED and ICU rotations. Fortunately, he's off on Wednesday and Thursday so he can come back for Journal Club and Grand Rounds and I am thrilled. Throughout the month, we'll visit him when we can, and he'll come back too. 

I'm using the time to purge the house. This means I am cleaning out nooks and crannies, and whenever Grace finds something she enjoyed as a baby, she must re-enjoy it. 

Remember how small she used to be? Actually fitting in this car seat! (Bought for her first plane ride at almost 3 months old - going home for Thanksgiving and her baptism.) She's growing up so fast.

Suddenly, it was nap time. You know this time: the girls start rubbing their eyes and fighting a bit more and demanding the iPad. Okay! Everyone upstairs! I lift them over the gate for a race - Grace always wins. Laura always makes sure I'm coming too. 

Today was the first day back at school. Honestly, I'm not ready to be back. I had a great first class and really loved it, but there's still a lot to do before the end of the semester in three weeks. Oh well! We press on; keep climbing. I walked out of the room to prepare lunch post-nap and returned to this:

Sigh. NO TABLE. 

//

After dinner, we cleaned up together and went off to play and FaceTime with Dad. Unfortunately, this is much less exciting than trying to tear down the gate (even though it is also tied into place). Laura is just so amazing. I love watching the way her mind works and she tries to understand the world. Fortunately, when I re-direct her (which happens one hundred times a day), she never gets upset but moves seamlessly into the next adventure. 

Surprise, surprise! Our [opened] Christmas presents from Nana and Pappy arrive! Time to climb. 

The transformation from baby to toddler is fun with Grace. Earlier today, she helped me scramble the eggs and then put the lid on leftovers from lunch. As her language and movements are improving greatly, I am starting to look into a special needs homeschool pre-school program put out by Memoria Press. (Disclosure: I work for their online school.) Level A looks perfect for Grace, and I would not have said that when she first turned 2. Amazing what a couple more months of therapy can do!!

As a result, I can see how Grace teaches Laura as well, and that just warms a mama's heart. They are really transforming into the best of sisters and friends, and even though it is a lot more work up front, I am excited we're having the kids so close together. 

After a total meltdown near the end of Dad's call, I ask Grace if she's tired and ready for bed, and she says "yes." So, up the stairs we go! The final ascent of the day. 

I have a hard time capturing still photos these days, but what's the saying? A ship is safe in the port, but that's not why it was built. Here's to another day, another climb, and more adventures with my girls.

Follow me: Bloglovin // Facebook // Google+ // Instagram // Twitter

Learning the New, Building the Now

This past weekend, we went to Will's advising attending's house for lunch. Just Will and I - we were going to take Grace, but at the last minute, decided the windchill was too cold and time with Nana would be better spent.

Will's attending is a very interesting man - he did two residencies: one in internal medicine, then one in emergency medicine. His wife is from Japan, where she was a critical care nurse. They have one son, who is obviously very loved.

A woodpecker in the Poconos

They have two bird feeders outside their dining room window, and I was amazed at how they could identify those birds so quickly. Will can too - as part of homeschooling, they tracked birds for Cornell. I've always loved bird watching, but know very little about it. I've been on the Audubon website a lot recently, enjoying John Audubon's plates as well as trying to learn how to identify more birds in this region. Our neighbors have about 11 bird feeders, so we see a multitude of birds every day outside our windows.

I also liked learning that his attending has taken piano lessons for the past six years. It reminded me of the line from Robert Frost's "The Death of the Hired Man": "He studied Latin like the violin/ Because he liked it".

This Lent, my personal sacrifice is keeping a spiritual art journal each day, based on the day's mass readings. It sounds like fun: it's really hard for me. It's a sacrifice of time and pride. Just ten minutes. Seems harder than it should be.

My other Lenten sacrifice is daily rosary with Will, though I'm peetering on this commitment because he won't be home for most of Lent. I need to be stronger here - Lent is the devil's playground for spiritual attacks. I need more prayer.

I couldn't decide how to write this without sounding overdramatic, but I am really not looking forward to March -- which is a shame, because March is my favorite month. My mom will be here the first two weeks in March, my birthday and Will's birthday are in March, St. Patrick's feast day and St. Joseph's feast day (and more!), and it'll be the first month with our sweet second baby.

But Will won't be home. He'll be in the SICU 14-16 hours/ day, and just thinking about his January month in the MICU still ties my stomach up in knots, and I'm going through it all over again with two babies. Appropriate, perhaps, that most of my 40 days march through Lent will be giving up my dependence on my husband's help.

It makes me angry, and anger makes me sad. Residency makes me feel like a single parent whose significant other stops by for dinner. Maybe this is an unfair comparison.

I've been meditating on these lines, also from Frost's "The Death of the Hired Man" poem:

“Warren," she said, “he has come home to die:
You needn’t be afraid he’ll leave you this time.”          

“Home," he mocked gently.

“Yes, what else but home?
It all depends on what you mean by home.
Of course he’s nothing to us, any more
Than was the hound that came a stranger to us          
Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail.”

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.”  

I am trying to learn this new life. I am trying. And in learning to love the skies I am under, I am reminded of the Trinity. I am not in this marriage alone, or even with only Will. When we got married, we were married before God, and asked for his blessing. We invited him to always be with us. And when I'm sinking, why don't I reach for God enough?

I am sitting quietly in our home, our domestic church. My protruding belly has me leaning forward a bit more, and my back aches accordingly. In my tiredness, I am broken. In my fear, I am alive. Through my tears, I am washed anew. As I watch the birds outside our dining room windows, I smile at God's goodness. There are so many different birds, so many types within the same species. Humans are made in the image of God, and his creations are made in the image of extended glory. We cannot fathom the diversity of his goodness. We'll never know the depth of his mercy. He's always welcoming us home, bidding us to be with him in every moment.

God, you teach me so much.

My View (vol. 19)

What I Am Reading: Agatha Christie's Appointment with Death

Favorite eats: Chobain yogurt. Rice chex. Peaches. Strawberries. Raspberries. (Oh my!)

Morning time with my Alfalfa sprout

This week in history: Grace officially started physical therapy! She was also interviewed by Early Intervention, as she qualifies for the state program as well. Feeling very please by all the help she is receiving. Grace is also having minor separation anxiety, and is becoming exceedingly more vocal. On the plus side, this includes her waking up from her daytime naps and singing in her crib. Just adorable! 

Will had an atrocious shift schedule this past week, but he's off it now {for the weekend!!!!}, and he was able to make it home in time to attend mass with us yesterday for the feast of the Assumption. I have now received all my history books and am starting to really prepare for classes!

I also built this:

I AM THE CHAMPION, MY FRIENDS. 

Prayers: For Pope Francis' trip to South Korea! There are four million Catholics there, and I am loving following all the pictures, Vatican radio updates and news articles. Prayers for Asia and the Church there as well!

Next week, I am going to: NYC with the family + my visiting sister for Grace's first trip to the Big Apple! I am also going to interview part-time babysitters for when I start work in September, and finally put my office together (and not just let the boxes sit there).

Waiting in the hospital cafeteria for Dad!

Have a great weekend, y'all! I know I am enjoying a break from constant vigilance, and am helping Will to clean and organize today! (Or is he helping me?)

Relaxin' to the max.

I think the beautiful weather calls for a walk as well!

Leaving My Parents and Clinging to My Spouse

Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and cleaves to his wife, and they become one flesh. (Genesis 2:24)

Just the beginning of our walk through life together
Photo credit: 808 Studio

He answered, “Have you not read that he who made them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? (Matthew 19:4-5)

The one thing I have been hands down struggling with the most these past two (three?) weeks is the absence of my husband. He is in PA, working odd and long shift hours; I am home in the Midwest with Grace.

Cleaving to one's spouse means forming a new family - and it was possibly the hardest and best thing that happened in our first year of marriage. Our first six months had me still living in my parents' house during the week and Will continuing his bachelor ways. Then we moved South and we only had each other. That was the best part of New Orleans: us, together, facing the world.

The world isn't so bad, either: buying groceries for the week. Making sure we paid our bills on time. Fixing coffee in the morning. Fixing dinner at night. Bed time routine with Grace. Sharing funny cartoons or news articles. Picking each other's brains. Eating together for meals. Playing and reading with Grace. PT with Grace. Walks with Grace! Netflix marathons. Reading days. Night time prayers. Popsicles as treats and therapy.

The best part about the past year was the amount of "us" time - and now that we're entering into a limited time together three years, I still feel so optimistic about us, and making time for each other, and making life better because we do things together. I used to be so timid at the idea of "leaving" my family - my plentiful number of relations for one, single person. And that one person took me on too, for better and worse.

And that's why I miss us. I just hung up the phone with him, as he gets off his shift almost two hours later. He's going to study, then bed; he has Grand Rounds in the morning, then works 11 p.m. till morning time. I get another round of Grace-wakes-up-all-night-and-day, and maybe I'll read more of my Agatha Christie too. It would be so nice to be reading in our own bed while he studies, with Grace across the hall, instead of me needing to tiptoe back into the guest room.

I'm ready to go home to PA. I love my family - both sides! - and seeing them and spending time with them has been so special. But I am officially cleaved. I miss my much better half. It's such a strange notion to me, that I could ever adore someone like I do Will. I mean, it's almost irrational. Love is. Some parts, it makes sense: we work together well, we want the same things, we have similar temperments, we complement each other. Other parts are a mystery: we have few common interests, he's much funnier than I am, I'm more talkative about everything, and our pursuits are different.

And still, we fit. We choose to fit. We want to fit.



That's possibly the thing I've realized most these past few weeks (two more to go!): the transition from getting married because, logically, we love each other/ we respect each other/ we enjoy each other's company/ we want the same things to we are married and for this healthy relationship to continue so happily, we must continue to appreciate and need the other person.

I think it's so nice to be needed. Will and I are in it for the long haul, and we're in it for the short haul too. The freeing realization that I do not have to hide my emotions for fear of teasing or rejection: that I'm always accepted by him. That I can openly miss him and not feel like I am being silly: that missing a part of myself is perfectly natural.

Let the countdown continue - Michigan vacation starts this weekend (and for the next week!), and then home again, home again, jiggity-jig.

#7QT: O Larger Town of Bethlehem

{one}

Home sweet home! Grace and I flew to PA on Monday, met my MIL and found:

• a fantastic grocery store
• half-day daycare options (one super close to the hospital!)
• a house (also close to the hospital!!!!!!!!!!!)
• a beautiful historic downtown
• a few colleges
• Catholic churches
• a friend!
• lots of area to explore and scenery to enjoy - truly charming
• the Peeps factory

Little lady loved PA; she got up extra early to enjoy her time there.

{two}

A little bit about Bethlehem, PA: it was founded in 1741 on Christmas Eve by Moravians, on 500 acres of land from William Penn. Be still my little American Studies heart.

Moravians are the hipsters of Protestantism - they started their crusade 60 years before Martin Luther did, and 100 years before Henry VIII started getting busy. The founder of the Moravians was burned at the stake for heresy in 1415 so... do you think they still hold that against Catholics? Because I was hoping to find a babysitter or two on campus. Fortunately, the area was flooded with immigrants (across the river... they could not live on the 500 acres for many moons), so there are plenty o' Catholic churches in the area.

Freedom of religion, yay!

{three}

This house is going to be an adventure. Built in 1886, it is now lived in as a twin. Its gorgeous interior is in need of a paint job in some places, a bit of woodwork repair, and a few appliances - namely, a fridge, a dishwasher, and portable A/C units. Maybe it's the HGTV magazine I bought or the Young House Love book I got for my birthday, but I'm excited. The house does have a washer/dryer, more than enough space [my want/need] + a one car attached garage, and Will can walk to the emergency room [his want/need].

Front hall

Get excited for house fix-up pictures. They're coming to a blog near you.

{four}

I'm taking a free class on Dante's journey from Hell to Heaven and it starts Monday! You should join me! Starting with the Inferno, we're reading one canto a day, watching one video lecture a day, and writing one response a week. It's my summer indulgence! It's offered by Holy Apostles College & Seminary, a really incredible school.

Desperately Seeking Beatrice.

{five}

David McCullough (aaaaaaamazing historian) was asked about the five things to teach high school students. I love all of these.

It's been really great thinking about teaching in the fall. I'm looking forward to showing kids how history is more than a string of dates and events, but an intricate web of Who and What and Why. The motivation, the intrigue, the insults, the scandal and the common good. If you can memorize, cool. But if you can make connections? Even better. History is not a straight line - it's a wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey ball of people, places and things. And I love it.

{six}

More love:

The problem facing the humanities, in my view, isn’t just about the humanities. It’s about the liberal arts generally, including math, science, and economics. These form half of the so-called STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) subjects, but if the goal of an education is simply economic advancement and technological power, those disciplines, just like the humanities, will be—and to some degree already are—subordinated to future employment and technological progress. Why shouldn’t educational institutions predominately offer classes like Business Calculus and Algebra for Nurses? Why should anyone but hobbyists and the occasional specialist take courses in astronomy, human evolution, or economic history? So, what good, if any, is the study of the liberal arts, particularly subjects like philosophy?  Why, in short, should plumbers study Plato? 

My answer is that we should strive to be a society of free people, not simply one of well-compensated managers and employees. Henry David Thoreau is as relevant as ever when he writes, “We seem to have forgotten that the expression ‘a liberal education’ originally meant among the Romans one worthy of free men; while the learning of trades and professions by which to get your livelihood merely, was considered worthy of slaves only.”

Clap clap clap for "Why I Teach Plato to Plumbers" by Scott Samuelson, The Atlantic

{seven}

I also love that learning cursive is a mind good and not just an aesthetic pleasure - like these purple tulips.

Happy weekend! Linking up with Jen! I am actively awaiting my copy of Something Other Than God to arrive...!!

What the Opposite of Insomnia? Zombie Land.

When I was pregnant with Grace, I had insomnia, even while taking sleep medications. It was positively horrible. I was so tired that I couldn't do anything but think about how tired I was. I would try to pray the rosary, but forget where I was (usually counted on my fingers) or how to say the prayers. I would get up to work, bur be too tired to read or write. It was a fate worse than death - tired and unproductive by day and night.

So, pretty much preparing me for a normal life post-Grace.

Monday: Grace was awake between 2-4 a.m. As I fed her and burped her and changed her diaper (twice) and paced around the six steps between our bedroom door and the outside wall), I wondered, Why you were still awake?

Wednesday: Grace cried for 3-4 hours for seemingly no reason. Fortunately, before bed. 

No! Not my gum drop buttons!

Friday: We're having another crying day. She cried with her Dad. She cried with her Mom. She cried in the 10 minute drive to pick up Will from class, only to promptly fall asleep for the next two hours. After dinner, Miss Fussykins and I walked to Wal-Mart to look for a new day planner (no success, but Christmas decorations are out!), and she fell asleep. She's awake again, so this post will be short.

Her, earlier. I'm savoring that moment.

The opening to this morning's Psalm was Isaiah 28:8 - The Lord God will wipe away/ the tears from all faces. I laughed when I read that - thank you Lord! I need a good wiping too!

Grace is officially 15 days old today. She's expanded our hearts in so many ways, and stretched me further than I thought I could handle. When I was asked today "what I do all day", I said that my day starts around 3 a.m., when I feed Grace and change her diaper. Back to sleep. Then 6 a.m., when I feed Grace and change her diaper. Maybe sleep? (Will gets up around then; I'm toying with daily mass in the morning vs. before lunch.) Same for 9 a.m., etc. and all the way till the evening, when she goes to sleep for a few hours before her 3 a.m. wake-up call.

My mom left this morning, so this week will be our first alone - just Will, Grace and me. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law will be down in a week or so, but I already miss my mom (and not just because she fixed me an omlette every morning, made sure I ate plenty of vegetables, and believes strongly in dessert). She reminded me to nap and to suppress my "busy bee gene". She helped me not feel overwhelmed when Grace refused to be soothed. She carried Grace, changed her diapers, gave her baths, showered Grace with love, and introduced her to the "No Such Thing As Too Many Pictures" family motto.

Okay, you caught me. Binky to the rescue!

I'm so tired now. I can fall asleep and stay asleep. Tonight, on our quest for a new day planner, I could have sat down and snoozed for a few minutes. I walked around in a daze, jealous of Grace sleeping while being cuddled in the baby snuggly.

And it is such a good tired. The kind of tired after a good work-out; the kind of tired when you know you're doing a job well done. I'm tired, and I've never felt so fulfilled day after day. It really is amazing. I'm not totally organized - I did two loads of laundry and folded one - I did not make it to the grocery store - I'm still writing out thank you cards - I'm hopelessly behind on my real writing projects - I am content.

This evening's verse before the Canticle of Mary prayer is Acts 3:6 - Peter said, 'I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene, [rise and] walk.'

The beauty of living out one's purpose, one's vocation, is that one's soul is happy. The work load may be heavy or tedious or crabby, but the reasons for your work is in its fruits. I still can't believe how blessed I am to be married to Will and doubly blessed with our daughter. God is so good, and works through all the cracks of our flaws and failures to lead us on the path of salvation.

I fully admit that I'm a bit terrified of being a stay-at-home mom. I'll still be writing and editing, but even that has taken a backseat through my rough pregnancy and now recovering postpartum time. My mom worked outside the home while I was growing up (her vocation is in medicine as well as being a mom!), so my main influence has been a work-home balance. Fortunately, most of my mom's side as well as my mother-in-law stayed home with her kids, so I'll have many sounding boards.

Friends, how do you walk in this life? Is there a hop in your step or do you drag your heels? Do you consider your job part of your vocation or more of a career which will you will gladly relinquish one day?

Annnnnnnnd she's asleep (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). And so I adieu, adieu, to you, and you, and you! This zombie needs to re-charge her batteries.

Birth Class: Worth It?

Tuesday was our last birth class; I let Will stay home because

A) He asked;
B) He's already learned all of this, and has even delivered a few babies;
C) He spent last class drawing this... No c-section is complete without a shark, Viking, monkey or turtle. Or dinosaur, for that matter.

The classes were broken down into four topics: Signs & Stages of Labor, Medical Intervention & Pain Management; Indications of Caesarian birth & Physical/ Emotional Changes After Delivery; All About the Newborn. I also took the extra lactation class offered.

The classes mentioned above were all free; there were more comprehensive ones offered, but since my MIL and SILs gave me a doula as a baby shower gift, Will and I did not think additional classes would be necessary.

Were those above mentioned classes necessary? Maybe not. Will certainly did not enjoy them, though he attended most because I wanted him to be there. I did not learn anything particularly new, but it did give me a better peace of mind. I enjoy being in the classroom setting; Will preferred reading the slides later, verses sitting through the slides being read at him for two hours. (But you got to munch on cheese and crackers the whole time... they offered us a cheese platter, people! Yum.

The two best classes were the lactation class and the newborn class. The information provided at the other three were pretty standard, but, again, I liked listening to the nurse talk about it in an organized fashion. It helped me wrap my mind around the fact that I am going to be giving birth in a few weeks.

Waiting for the baby feels like this:

Heidi, the family dog, being a lioness and waiting for her "prey" at the dog park

Waiting, waiting, waiting... but not particularly wanting anything to happen. People have asked me if I am excited (well, yes), if I am counting down the days (never), and if I'm prepared (sure... but my bag has yet to be packed).

Other days, it feels like this: MUST READ ALL THE ARTICLES. MUST KNOW EVERYTHING THAT IS HAPPENING TO MY BODY ANY WHY. WHY WHY WHY WHY.

Heidi and I are both on the prowl...

Then, Will asked me to stop reading all the articles because it was playing games with my emotions, and we had a nice talk instead about why contractions hurt and what's happening in my body and yes, I am strong enough to do this.

Though he's taking a very practical approach to our baby, I will say that I am glad he's got medical opinions based on medical facts, verses my "feelings" on the matter...

Now, I'm as content as this pigeon eating a beignet:

Life happens.

I still have to write up a short birth plan (I considered natural, but am now on Team Epidural), register at the hospital and pack a bag (recommended: robe, socks, chapstick, conditioner, toothbrush & paste). I've considered charging my ipod and bringing that along too... although I have no clue what kind of music I'll be interested in hearing while contracting.

Birth class is a good place to be - there are also method classes, which may help moms and dads with more specific pain management techniques. I'm satisfied with having a doula and an epidural because it won't be guaranteed that Will is going to be there during the whole of the new couple deliveries (I'm not sure how his future hospitals will work), and I'm trying to be realistic about that. Wait, did I just say future pregnancies? Girl, get yourself together! Have this baby first!

I'm especially glad I took a lactation class - that is probably the best class to take,  because breast feeding may be the most common and best for you and the baby, but it is certainly no cake walk. Cheers to all moms who do it!

When it comes to having birth, for those fellow type-As who just want to "know!!!!!!" what is going to happen, I comfort myself this way: women have been having babies for millions of years and with way less pain killers and knowledgeable staff members around them. I'll be fine, even if it's going to really, really hurt. Pain with purpose.

The biggest thing for moms to take away is that they've created a little individual who is not going to fall into all the categories nicely. Babies are born with the instinct to eat and the ability to poop/pee and sleep, but they are also brimming with potential. They're new to this world too! Sure, I did not have a small person depending on me before, but the small person did not have to depend on me either. Hungry? Eats. Bathroom time? Shazam. Warm and cuddly while training for the Olympics in the dark? Nice place here. Sleeps without interruption? Yeah, well, you and me both, buddy.

I suppose the thing I'm really waiting for is my heart to explode. I distinctly remember meeting my baby sister (14 years ago...feeling old...) for the first time, and my heart growing 3.5 times bigger to accommodate the love I felt for this person I had been waiting for, and just met. It was amazing, and I bet it is going to grow even bigger for Bambino Baldwin #1. And no class can really prepare you for that.

Sunday's Small Things

Today begins the second week of Will's summer vacation, and I've been enjoying the break immensely. By break, I mean break from driving him to and from school- because otherwise, my schedule has not varied greatly.

I had an OB appointment, a birth class, and a lactation class this week. Will and I missed the birth class after going swimming late in the afternoon, deciding we were starving during the post-swim walk around the track (for more my-speed exercise), ordering Chinese food from the place a five minute walk from our apartment, and after being completely overwhelmed with how utterly delicious it was, fell into a food coma while watching Sherlock. We have no regrets. We're currently re-arranging our meal budget to more regularly accommodate for Chinese deliciousness.

And what, you may ask, does this have to do with Sunday? I was merely setting the stage. We've had a low-key week, an informative week, and an all-around lovely week. I even made carrot cake! (The answer is yes, it is delicious. Recipe from one of my favoritest ever cookbooks, The New Best Recipe.) I've started taking sleep medication (yes, my doctor gave me the go-ahead) after a few especially bad nights the previous week, and I am SO HAPPY TO SLEEP THROUGH THE WHOLE NIGHT.

...This may not happen again for a long time, so I am relishing in it. Especially the taking-meds-because-no-one-needs-me-awake-every-few-hours part.

Carrying on.

This morning, Will made us delicious eggs and ham, complete with coffee - which we drink cafe au lait. That's the fancy term for sugar and lots o' milk, with coffee there purely for caffeine purposes.

Mug shots.

We watched an episode of Burn Notice before parting ways to do chores and other menial tasks, like studying and article writing. I had a really fantastic interview with a source, which is always gratifying. I'm writing about the common core in New York, but you should look it up, because it's in 45 states already. One of the more fascinating parts of the common core is that it claims to be a state-led initiative, but it's the same in every state (centralized) and the federal government gives educational grants to schools which thus requires them to use the common core. The common core will and is affecting public schools, home schoolers, private schools, Catholic schools. More on this later.

After my interview, Will wanted to go to the park, and then promptly fell into bed and took a nap. I continued working, but started craving a snow cone.

Background: there is a snow cone place down the street from our apartment, and every time I pass it, rain and shine, there is a line out the door. Does that not scream quality snow cone to you?? I've been trying to make a fun trip of it with Will for about a month now, but we always think about getting one just before the shop closes down.

BUT TODAY WAS DIFFERENT. After I poked Will awake and subtly hinted how much I would love to get a snow cone before mass, and how we needed to leave soon so we didn't hit the hour before communion mark, we set out to our destination. The place is called Hansen's Sno-Blitz and it is practically a historical landmark. The shop is not fancy, and has old newspaper clippings laminated or framed on the wall. Their slogan is "There are no shortcuts to quality!"

Strawberry!

Will and I both agreed: less syrup next time. But still delicious.

Happiness!

Then, off to mass! We go to St. Patrick's Church downtown.

Glorious church! Here's a better shot.

I loved the readings and reflections today.

"Jesus' intent here is not primarily to condemn people, but to challenge them to right living according to the covenant established with God. So must this be our intent."

The priest gave a wonderful homily as well; he also sounds like he needs to work for an audio book company. His voice is simply sonorous!

Dinner was prepare yourself, and we were soon joined by our only friend in NOLA and her sister. Almost two hours later, our two friends in NOLA left us until Wednesday.

I talked to my family today as well, and received text message updates on their happenings and the goings-on at home. Isn't that what Sundays are best for? Spending time with loved ones, especially family? I'm cherishing Sundays with Will because I know they will not always be so care-free. In a month or so (!!), we will have a bundle of joy who will need to be completely cared for, watched, changed, feed and burped. In a few years, we will (hopefully) have a few more. Will's schedule will be set by the hospital, and my schedule will be continue in its flexible, changeable ways.

And I am so, so, so, so, so grateful for all of it.

Check it. 35 weeks, y'all.

Anyways, it's the small (and so not-so-small) things. A belated happy Sunday, dear readers!

#7QT: Oh the Shame, the Shame, the Shame

Is it Friday? Bless my buttons! Read below and then more over at Jen's!

ONE

There is a skit by Irish comedian Dylan Moran on shame which uses a brilliant [take-it-with-a-grain-of-comedic-sea-salt] analogy comparing the eating of biscuits between Protestants and Catholics. It is a great Robison family favorite:



"Oh, I can't tell which is nicer, the biscuits or the shame!" 

I've been feeling a lot of shame lately between all my commitments and projects and moving and pregnancy and just being there as a member of my family. It's been a really hard balance, and I'm thankful you readers are still here as I write other things more than blog posts, like thank you cards and freelance.

Although, the book Jen found on writing more/ better has me really excited. As does the ability to download Kindle onto my PC!

I'm starting a women's writer workshop come July and am estatic -- and, hopefully, I'll publish more here too!

TWO

I had my gestational diabetes test done today. My doctor allowed me to eat yogurt beforehand since I still get so nauseous in the morning, but the sugary drink I had 5 minutes to down didn't help with that. I brought work to do, and ended up curled up on my side in the room instead. This pregnancy has certainly given me more to be thankful for, especially my health. I may feel sick and need to sleep way more than usual, but I am still doing well and am a low-risk pregnancy!

I am really going to miss my OB doctor and the staff. My doctor is kind, professional, and I feel extremely comfortable with her. I would have loved to have her deliver Bebe! The staff loves to chat with me and ask about updates - mostly because my FIL is another OB in the officer, I'm sure, but also because they are just as genial and caring.

My #1 task upon moving South: new OB! Well, and unpacking. And maybe going on a cemetery tour and exploring the French Quarter!

THREE

Today is our six months of marriage mark!!!! How exciting. Just to re-cap:

FOUR

Have you ever heard of Temple Grandin?


Inventor, animal activist, and autistic!

FIVE

I am getting to the end of Robert Penn Warren's 'All the King's Men' and it is just thrilling.

“For the truth is a terrible thing. You dabble your foot in it and it is nothing. But you walk a little farther and you feel it pull you like an undertow or a whirlpool. First there is the slow pull so steady and gradual you scarcely notice it, then the acceleration, then the dizzy whirl and plunge into darkness. For there is a blackness of truth, too. They say it is a terrible thing to fall into the Grace of God. I am prepared to believe that.” 

The book is long, extremely well-written, an investment of time and intellect, and worth savoring every word and story. The character of Jack Burton is flawed, smart, introspective, cunning, and just.

SIX

Rest in Peace, Michael Hastings (died in a car accident on June 18):

Okay, here’s my advice to you (and young journalists in general):
1. You basically have to be willing to devote your life to journalism if you want to break in. Treat it like it’s medical school or law school.
2. When interviewing for a job, tell the editor how you love to report. How your passion is gathering information. Do not mention how you want to be a writer, use the word “prose,” or that deep down you have a sinking suspicion you are the next Norman Mailer.
3. Be prepared to do a lot of things for free. This sucks, and it’s unfair, and it gives rich kids an edge. But it’s also the reality.
4. When writing for a mass audience, put a fact in every sentence.
5. Also, keep the stories simple and to the point, at least at first.
6. You should have a blog and be following journalists you like on Twitter.
7. If there’s a publication you want to work for or write for, cold call the editors and/or email them. This can work.
8. By the second sentence of a pitch, the entirety of the story should be explained. (In other words, if you can’t come up with a rough headline for your story idea, it’s going to be a challenge to get it published.)
9. Mainly you really have to love writing and reporting. Like it’s more important to you than anything else in your life—family, friends, social life, whatever.
10. Learn to embrace rejection as part of the gig. Keep writing/pitching/reading.

H/T Explore

SEVEN

Last weekend in Ohio for a while... I'll miss home! I'll miss my big family, taking the dogs to the dog park and hanging with our cats, walking to and from work, my family eating dinner together, walking around the neighborhood, coffee and play dates with the kids, the best job I've ever had, and the familiar.

Until then, I'm going to keep on keepin' on. Happy Friday!

Adventures in Cooking

Okay readers, my mom has given me a new challenge: cook dinner every Thursday for my family. This is their new ploy to avoid B. and I re-enacting this scene every time he'll come home from work:

Help me? I am looking for advice in cooking meat, and recipes that can easily be made bigger (as well as smaller). I'll be cooking for 7-8.

Oh! To add insult to injury, I got put on the Pintrest Waiting List. (Yes, I caved. I decided I need to further my information-gathering skills in an organized way!)

Happy almost Palm Sunday! Holy Week cometh!

I Rejoice in This Divine Romance!

Less than a week till I leave for Germany, but here are a few more pictures from my last international trip...

Isn't South Korea so lush and green?

Embracing the Eastern Sea

Overlooking the Eastern Sea (also known as the Sea of Japan)

Then I found a dead starfish. Sad.

This is April's favorite picture from the trip. One night, I went home early because I was tired and I knew the gang was going to be out for another couple hours. There are no open container laws in South Korea, so I took my beer home with me, put tin foil on top and went to bed. April came home to this:

She laughs every time she sees this picture.

Oh well. It seemed the practical solution at the time. This is, of course, another reason why I am VERY EXCITED to be going to Germany with my sister. Real and delicious beer awaits me! I am not a fan of Asian beer, so I will be spoiled-rotten in Europe.

I've been listening to this song of late:



Working from home today, so I've got my darling Heidi sleeping at my feet on the couch. Feeling blessed to have such true and loyal love from our family dog.

Oh, and next week's Bright Maidens topic is going to be "Feminine Genius: The Interior." What does Blessed JPII's explanation mean to you?

Happy Wednesday!

Piano Keys

"My Grandmother’s Love Letters" by Hart Crane

There are no stars tonight
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
In the loose girdle of soft rain.

There is even room enough
For the letters of my mother’s mother,
Elizabeth,
That have been pressed so long
Into a corner of the roof
That they are brown and soft,
And liable to melt as snow.

Over the greatness of such space
Steps must be gentle.
It is all hung by an invisible white hair.
It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.

And I ask myself:

“Are your fingers long enough to play
Old keys that are but echoes:
Is the silence strong enough
To carry back the music to its source
And back to you again
As though to her?”

Yet I would lead my grandmother by the hand
Through much of what she would not understand;
And so I stumble. And the rain continues on the roof
With such a sound of gently pitying laughter.

Confessions of the Un-Domestic

Is a person born domestic? Or do they have domesticity thrust upon them?

This morning, I got a text from my cousin telling me she was starting to make felt ornaments for her children. Putting aside the fact that she is not in a position to have children, it struck me that I never thought about making felt ornaments for my future children. Mainly because I fully expect my future family's Christmas tree to be covered in a smorgasbord of ornaments like my own family's is - complete with thumb prints with smiley faces drawn on, laminated and then tied with yarn; pictures of us through the years; other creative endeavors my parents cherish dearly and even prefer over bought ornaments.

But back to making ornaments. Or making anything, really. A college friend of mine is sewing her wedding dress. I respect that, but am in no way capably of doing so myself. Another friend recently expressed interest in doing that as well, actually. Today I fixed tea; does that count for anything?

Me woman! Me make pancakes!

My mother is utterly undomestic. She loves her job and gets her kicks there, not in making a good meal or keeping house or sewing us clothes/ costumes (as my aunt did for her two kids-- one of whom is the aforementioned felt-ornament-making-cousin). My three younger sisters have more domestic tendencies. Kato learned to knit when she tore her ACL in high school and cooks; Muffy is organized and can keep a room/ the house spotless; Boo is a decorating master and is the cutest hostess. My sisters have real gifts in the domestic arts.

In this area, I wonder if I have more in common with my two brothers, only with more tact and graciousness. I think my brothers would live in a cave and not notice, as long as it had wireless internet, food and a place to sleep. Come to think of it, so would I... does that make me less womanly?

I've been thinking about this lately, mostly at night while I am up late reading and writing after work. I wonder if I am going to be pulling late hours to do my research after I get the bumpkins into bed. In high school, I received the nickname "Sally." One of the reasons (among the many) was because I was constantly carpooling my five younger siblings around, which apparently makes me comparable to a housewife. I think carpooling will be the least of my duties as a mother, but certainly one I have had plenty of experience in juggling alongside other tasks.

In college, my undomesticated side became ultra-exposed, when I learned I should have been able to bake bread or sew on a button by the age of 18. Allow me to express my yearning for a home education class or two now. Four years later, I graduated without gaining either of the above skills. I moved away from home and realized that I had my own kitchen to cook in. It was tiny. My mom called it a "Julie sized kitchen." I ate a lot of raw vegetables and fruits, grilled cheese and many bowls of cereal. My actual cooking adventures usually involved the smoke alarm unjustly going off.

Yes, this is how big my kitchen was.

Recently, I found a book called "How to Sew a Button: And Other Nifty Things Your Grandmother Knew" by Erin Bried and it made me feel instantly better. A lot of the things she writes about, I already know how to do. Hooray! For other things, like cooking a turkey, she explains it well and even editorializes occasionally (she encourages drinking wine while cooking, which is five gold stars in my book!). I have not finished it (yet), but I am grateful for it. It gives me hope. It gives me knowledge. It gives me courage. It gives me directions.

I am starting to think, when the time arrives, domesticity will be thrust upon me, and I will like it because it will be my way of building a loving home for my future family. It sounds like a challenge, and I accept. I also look forward to the little people gripping my legs when the firemen come for their weekly visit and saying, "Mommy tried again!"

When I was growing up, it was always made clear that becoming a wife and mother was always expected, but secondary. Career first, and then you can have a family. Cooking is optional; hire someone to do it is better.

I am starting to see the flaws in this plan. Cracks really: I'm barely 24, have been published in multiple national papers and journals, and I completely freeze up at the thought of cooking pork chops.

Therefore, I would like to share an idea, born from the actions of my doctor, who went to medical school when she was 40 and her kids were more grown, and from my paternal grandmother, who got her Master's in English when my Dad was in high school.

Exceptions aside (my own mother, for instance, would be a very unhappy person if she wasn't working and thus fulfilling her purpose), I think it better to reverse that order: prepare yourself mentally so that you can teach your children and edify yourself and the people around you, be prepared to go back to school when the time comes, and perhaps work part-time. Later, when the children are grown or mostly-grown, there will have more than enough time to pursue something more full-time.

On the plus side, I can overcompensate for my lack of domesticity by sharing my voracious reading habit with the little minds; teach my children logic, reason and theology; play soccer, tennis, dress-up, cards and Monopoly; make homemade play-dough; correct their homework; take walks in the park; color alongside them with my own set crayons and colored pencils. Then we'll clean up our mess and play Simon Says until Mommy Say So.

Do any other [female] readers feel this way? A pressure to work first? Family "later"? Putting emphasis on what we do and not who we are?

I'm Back in the States!

I'm back from Asia! I was in Busan, Daegu, Geoje Island and Changwon, South Korea, as well as Tokyo, Japan. It was amazing two week trip, and I can't wait to write about it!

Well, erm, actually, I can. I am majorly slacking on my Bright Maidens post too, I know. I promise to post it ASAP. If you're wondering what the hold up is, wonder no longer:

Heidi makes jet lag naps better!

Thanks for understanding.

Confessions of a Never-Homeschooler

Extra, Extra! Read all of Volume Ten! I'm still on the phone (fine, on hold) with so-and-so about this-and-that, so let's get this post oot and aboot...

one

Confession: I didn't know people ACTUALLY home schooled their children until I went to college. It sounded like a myth, or a kind of educational theory. I rationalized that only people who didn't have schools within a certain number of miles of their home would do that. I grew up in a huge city with tons of schools: public, private, parochial, take your pick! Then I found out Cincinnati is a huge homeschooling city.

I admit: I should have known better.

My father was that parent who made us do extra work when we got home from school. He went to teacher-parent night to complain that we weren't being given enough homework. He always said, "I already know my kids are the best. I want to hear how you're going to make them better."

He also told us to play for fun, climb trees, read books and then write our own. He listened to every single child tell him ridiculous stories, only to have him tell us a better one. Yeah, you want to meet my dad now. Who doesn't?