Monday, August 28, 2006

The Marks of Today's Society

The other night I was out buying groceries and I heard some giggles and chuckles around the corner and as I pushed my cart forward a mother, somewhat distracted, came around the it. No doubt she was heavily concentrated on how to make her dollar go as far as possible and behind her, the owners of the giggles and chuckles showed themselves. A daughter about 13 and a son of perhaps 11. They were playing with a most absurd looking ball that look more like a sea anemone than a ball.

Their enjoyment brought a smile to my lips and I felt uplifted seeing children of that age enjoying themselves in such an innocent manner. But before I could draw my eyes away the daughter flipped a knowing look at her brother and stopped behind their mother who was carefully studying the prices on variety of brands. She then made a most obscene gesture with the toy, directed at her mother. She chortled aloud in delight at the woman's ignorance of the insult just played on her. The very woman who is raising her and most likely gave her birth.

My eyes lighted on the face of the younger old son. His eyes caught mine and I did not relent, I did not pretend I had not seen what I had seen. I held his eyes in mine. For a brief second I saw in his eyes the realization of the shame of what he had just participated in. Then he squared his shoulders, defiance filled his eyes and he turned to play again with his sister. They continued to follow her, giggling as they once more so innocently threw this weird ball back and forth.

I saw them once more that evening, but I did not delight any longer in their seemingly childish and delightful entertainment as I had seen the mark of today's pornographic society on their play. It saddened me greatly and many times since then that little boy's eyes have haunted me. Let us all remember our youth that is being bombarded by society's idolization of the body and of sex and pray for them as we go throughout the day. Read more!

Friday, August 25, 2006

Yesterday I had the opportunity to wrestle with the question of how early should a child be ushered into independence. We were in the mountains picking up merchandise for the business and had an impromptu picnic in a beautiful park that had a quiet lazy spring bubbling through it.

As we carried our bags of groceries and the boxes of chicken that wafted delightful scents into the air through the park, I spied a mother crossing the bridge over the spring who was accompanied by two little children. A slight young girl who looked to be about three and beside her, a little boy who was a mirror image of our little Elsa in that he carried the same adorable mop of red curls on his head and sported invisible eyebrows. He was plumper that our Elsa, but about the same height and I was so curious as to how close they were in age so I asked the mum how old he was.

She paused and stared at him before replying; "Hmmmm, I think maybe around 2." I looked at him again, very confused by her uncertainty and because if he was two - he was very wobbly a walker for a 2 year old and well, very short. The mother must have noted my confusion as she turned to look at him and hummed again.

I said helpfully, "Well, my little red head here is about 16 months..."
“Ahh,” she said, "Yeah, I guess he too is maybe a year and half. Yeah, he is probably about that, now that I think of it. " And then addressing what must have been utter puzzlement on my face, she continued.

"Oh he's not mine, I just baby sit him."

Now perhaps this was a last minute arrangement for neighbor that had an emergency and so this mum was not too familiar with her little charge. But if she is his regular caregiver I have to wonder, really wonder at her having no clue as to his age. There is such a huge difference between 16 months and 24 months in terms of development and what kind of expecatations to have of a child. If she is his regular caregiver how could she be so disinterested in his age?

Later I watched her push her daughter on a swing and watched how this little fellow sturdily held onto the chains of his own swing as it flowed back and forth in the air.
I pondered.
Elsa at the ripe old age of 16 months and surrounded by all her slaves, err siblings has never had to learn how to swing alone yet. And so I pondered some more about that.

Independence is all well and fine I thought, and it might lead this little boy to great things later in life, but I decided that it was not necessarily the optimal choice for one so young. We leave our childhood behind soon enough as is, never to return. While I do not want Elsa to babied into her adulthood neither do I want her rushed into it. I am happy that yesterday she was able to cuddle on her older sister’s lap on a swing and lay her head on her sisters shoulder and enjoy the gentle breeze in her bangs while her sister slowly and carefully swung with a most precious cargo embraced in her arms. So I hope for this little boy’s sake that this was a one day only arrangement and that he is normally surrounded with the same love and support that Elsa is given all day long, seven days a week.

I hope Elsa also achieves the independence that this sturdy little fellow shows, but that she does it in her own time and is neither held back into her babyhood, nor rushed out of it. Read more!

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Padre Alberto Hurtado Cruchaga

Cannonized on the 23rd of October 2005 by Pope Benedict XVI at Rome Italy.
I just watched a video on this recently cannonized Saint on EWTN. It was in Spanish and well acted with subtitles. Even my boys Teddy (9) and Noah (11) were intrigued by the movie.

To learn more about this Saint, whose feast day was yesterday, click here and here. Read more!

Thursday, August 17, 2006

I'm bored...

Periodically I am longing to hear this statement expressed by my children as in this home as we are not allowed to be bored. Correction, we are not allowed to say aloud that we are bored because in a household this size there should never be a reason to be bored.

So if someone in this family, states that they are bored there is a host of extra chores just itching to be completed by a bored child. So everynow and then, when that list becomes exceptionally long I lay in wait, like the cop in a speed trap, the spider in her web, ready to pounce on the first child who sighs and then unthinkingly says: "I'm bored, there's nothing to do here."

It is amusing to see the reaction of an older, more wiley and experienced child hear a younger sibling say this for the first time that they are old enough for that chore list - about 6 years old in this house.

Some will jump up and hush the child looking around to see if their younger sibling has been over heard.

"Shh - you are NOT bored!"

"Am too!"

"Psst come here, let me explain why you are not bored!"

Or, then there is the adult child who is home for a visit who overhears this mis-statement and with eyes twinking begins to regale the bored child with tales of the endless chores they faced the day they mistakenly said that they were bored.

However, a new twist has arisen. Today as we were doing normal everyday chores after breakfast, Anna who is 13, informed me that she had a new plan for when she is... bored!

"I was thinking that instead of lying around on the couch or wishing I could use the computer when I'm... bored, I could bake, learn new recipees and such."

"And clean up after your baking?" I asked nervously.

"Oh yes - of course!" she replied enthusiastically.

And so now I have another reason to hope for boredom to prevail in our home; a room full of boxes to be unpacked on my list of chores for the bored, and an empty cookie jar!

Any ideas how I could perhaps entrap a child into saying they are bored? Read more!

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Today... of my cherished children announced, "Oh my, its less than five months to Christmas!"

To which I replied "And even less to Advent".

"Oh.... yeah.", she responded a little less enthusiastically.

But what, I ask you, would Chistmas be - without Advent, without the waiting. And oh BTW even though only one reader attempted to guess where I found the missing advent wreath - I will indulge you - it was in my OTHER bedroom closet, neatly stacked between two boxes in the front.

But do you think I have a clue where EITHER of my two wreaths are at this moment? Ha - you will just have to wait and see.... Read more!

Tickled Pink!

I am sure that most of my readers, if not all of you, are familiar with Sister Patricia of the Franciscan Card website as well as the Joy Notes, a daily Catholic ezine that is received Monday through Friday. And - if you know Sister and especially you recieve her Joynotes, than you know that she has been once more preparing another one of her wonderful books. This time it is about reconciliation and will be in print by, I believe, early September.

But what I bet none of you know is that this book will contain an article written by none other than (drum roll please) mum2twelve. Yes! Your own humble, down to earth, never pat herself on the back mum2twelve was asked to write a real bonafide, had to meet a deadline and be edited and then resubmit it, article about how to present Reconciliation to your child.

I was just tickled pink and floating on air for days! And I was truely humbled to be asked to write such an important article. I believe the Sisters must have really prayed up a storm while I wrote this essay, as it just flowed and then when I thought I was all finished, more ideas hit me. "Oh I should write about venial sin versus mortal, I should add a few paragraphs about..." but nothing would come, not even a syllable. I realized that if I attempted to put another word on the paper - it would just not work and since I knew the Sisters were praying for the success of the book, I suspected that it was their prayers that enabled it all to come together so smoothly. Therfore, as the words stopped flowing and I could not put another sentence together that was worth writing, I came to the conclusion that I must have said all that the Holy Spirit wanted said!

I hope you will all take the opportunity to take a peek at what Sister Patricia has put together in this book and maybe even consider buying a book or two. (No - I don't get royalties, just a by line!)

I, myself, have ordered two. One for our family and one for a gift. I just haven't decided who to give it to yet. I have offered it to one (extended) family member who is non catholic, but they have not shown any interest so... any number of possibilities are open. And Christmas is coming so you better start making your lists. Read more!

I knew I was safe...

Yes, while I was digging bigs of green pepper out of the bottom of the washer and shaking it out of my sons' clothing at 1 am - I knew I could have offered to give the winning guess a million dollars and I would be safe!

Now - I have been so busy - I have yet to ask my two sons why they had a fresh green pepper in their laundry, but I am sure that to their young minds - it will be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Thank heavens it wasn't any of your guesses - except maybe the 23 dollars or the lottery ticket. I wouldn't say no to a few GREEN bucks in the bottom of the washer. But no thanks to the skulls, frogs or earth worms or an insect of any kind! {{shudder}} Read more!

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

You get three guesses...

Once more I have found a most interesting treasure after a load of laundry. This laundry belonged to two of my sons aged 11 and almost 10.

I feel so confidant that you can not guess, that if I had won the lottery I would promise to split the winnings in half with the reader that guessed what it is.

Come on now - don't be shy - draw deep in to your memories of your youthful adventures or those of your children's and then post your guesses in the comment area.t,

And now I am off for one more round of packing at the old house - while praying fervrently that this is, for me at least, the last trip. Read more!

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Images from my memories

Sadly, none of these images are actual photos that are mine as many of these times were never captured on film or if they were are lost, or still packed away so I had to hunt the internet to be able to share these memories that are haunting me this weekend.

There is a battle occuring in my soul and as I wrestle with this sudden homesickness I am experiencing for Canada or a home in an area that would allow me to enjoy once again scenes like these, as well as the climate they all occur in, I am trying to listen to Christ to see if there is an actual message in this deep longing or is it just one of those 'the grass is always greener' moments. It is more likely just that, given the recent stress of our move. Still, if it is Christ - I pray I can discern his message.

Anyway - here are some internet photos that will allow you a peek of what is within my heart this weekend. If I had our baby albums, there would also be tons of baby pictures littered through out this post since I am wallowing in those memories as well, convinvced that if I could do it all over again - I would do a much better job this time. And maybe I would. Lucky for me, while I can not do it all over again with my four oldest , I still have eight lovely souls left to love, cherish and guide. Read more!
Besides the cooler temperatures, I think what Hugo and I miss most are the drives in the country we would take as we drank in the views of rolling hill sides blanketed with farms, usually dairy or beef with a few being sheep farms. And of course in the fall we loved the colours that the countryside presented us with along with the wonderful bounty of apples, apples and more apples.

A scene I was priviledged to view a few times from my living room window when we lived way up north in the province of Quebec in the small mining town of Gagnonville. This town no longer exists as it was plowed back into the ground once the mine had been stripped dry of all its iron ore. At least once, as a school outing, I recall being taken in wagons pulled by skidoos to the outside limits of town where a sledding team was kenneled.

I miss the dry crunch of the snow under my feet and temperatures so cold that somedays a deep intake of breath would glue the insides of your nose together. However, when I find myself pining for these days I try to remember how annoyed we were our last winter in Canada and it snowed on MOTHER'S DAY! When one of our local priests claimed "Mia Culpa, I love snow and have often prayed it would snow on Mother's day" - he shortly therafter found himself transfered to Dallas... Texas. Me thinks the Bishop was not as fond of snow as our priest was.

NB is famous for its covered bridges.

The bath house on Minister's Island.

This is the road that literally warns you to remember that the tides waits for no man. Something a few friends and I would have done well to remember one night while roasting marsh mellows out on the rocks a few miles in the other direction... This road is accesible only at low tide and takes one to Minister Island. When I became a teenager, I was, for two summers, a tourguide on a boat where I rambled on about Minister's Island as well as its famous bathhouse and the fishing weirs that surrounded it. I learned that summer, ladies, that what gives the sparkle to much of our facial make up is the sparkly material found in the scales of fish. Now doesn't that make you feel gorgeous!

This is like the type of beach I was most familiar with as I grew up in and around the Maritimes.

Something I have not yet found internet picures of that we actually have many photos of are our two favourite "pioneer" villages, Kings Landing and Upper Canada Village. Hugo and I visited Kings Landing a number of times, both while we were dating and after we married. I have in one of our photo albums a photograph of he and I posed in front of a large boat at Kings Landing. I was about 6 months pregnant with our first born, Amanda. I have a number of photos of Upper Canada Village as well, but even more of the Pre-Historic World park nearby. And these photos are filled with our four oldest children as they stared at those huge recreations of the monstors of the past.

Well - I hope you have enjoyed my trek through the past and now, if was not so dang hot, I would go make myself a hot chocolate, top it with real whipped cream and dream of tobaggans and snow and wood stoves. Instead, I am going to slip into a pair of clean shorts and cross the road to the store to buy some cold soda for my thirsty and hot brood.


Read more!

Friday, August 11, 2006

Another leg in the journey in life...

Once a long while back, while we still lived in Canada and the number of our children was still in the single digits, I managed to squeeze in the attendance of an Opus Dei talk. There was one point that the priest made that night that has really stayed with me, not that I have made the proper use of it - but none the less it has been there, floating about in my memories, sometimes actually making it to the forefront - where it really should have been at all times. He stated, really quite simply that in order to effect a desired change in our loved ones we must, (not should - must) model this desired behaviour to our loved ones before trying to change their behaviour.

Of late I have noticed a lot of squabbling between the children and short tempers are prevailing as are sharp tones. A lot of this behaviour can be blamed on the stress of our recent move, along with the accompanying later nights and a messed up schedule. Still, as I thought about trying to turn all of this around, particularly the manner in which the children are speaking to each other, the memory of Father‘s statement was triggered again and I felt guilty. How nicely have I been speaking to my children or even to my husband? How patient or understanding have I been? Just what kind of example have I been to my family? Have I been the heart that, as mother, I am called to be?

The answers that I came up with were not so flattering. For example, when faced with a grumpy teller at the bank, with a stuffy red nose, who treated me like a four year old that was not following directions properly in class, had I simply, humbly offered it up to God; or had I grumped and complained about that chit of a teller and her nerve… When a child steps on my foot accidentally, while still in their heavy shoes, do I refrain to only an explanation of pain and then smile understandingly when the child apologizes or do I snap at them to be more careful? When I am disappointed because I cannot find the book I had put aside to read during my free time in the afternoon or before bed, do I calmly offer it up, ask for help to find it; or do I stomp about the house grumbling about how nobody cares about anybody else’s belongings and so dampening everyone else’s spirits while also ruining their quiet time?

And if that is my behaviour - should I really be so surprised when this is the behaviour I see exhibited by my children?

The next thought that came to me was that if I wanted to model better behaviour to my children, I needed to better understand why I was not being more patient, more loving and more tolerant. There are many reasons for why I might not be being a better model of a loving heart - some quite simple and others more profound.

I realized in order to answer this - I needed to look at how I was caring for myself. Was I eating well or missing meals, therefor becoming grumpy because I was hungry? Was I getting to bed at a reasonable time or staying up late because I had not managed my time well and I had things still to be done long past a reasonable bedtime. Was I taking time to refresh myself spiritually both through prayer and the Sacraments?

Again, I did not like the answers I was coming up with and I realized that I some work ahead of me, but like it or not, I had the moral obligation to God, my husband, our children, and to myself, to take up this new challenge of caring better for myself.

Wish me luck, eh, as I head forward on another leg of my spiritual journey. Read more!

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Dear Guardian Angel...

Dear Guardian Angel!

Guess what? My brother just turned six and we had a big party for him. This girl, that everyone runs to and screams in delight to see her, came again. Every time she comes they run at her yelling JEENNNY! They say she is my big sister but I just think she is crazy - what do you think G.A.? (Do you mind my calling you G.A.? Guardian is so long and hard to say!) She always insists I give her kisses and she squeezes me lots and lots. It is kind of fun but I don’t want her to know I think that. So I run and hide from her when she comes.

Anyway - she brought this huge green cake that had tractors and stuff all over it and I wanted to taste it so badly but every time I would manage to scale those huge wooden things they call chairs someone would one along and scope me off saying “Oh oh - you might fall, better stay off of those chairs“. Don’t they know that I have you, G.A. to protect me? Sometimes I thing grown ups are so silly. Besides why do they have these huge things by the table if you aren’t allowed to use them to see what’s on the table. I LOVE sitting on the table. First I can see around the room better and second there are always tasty treats on it - my favorites are the crayons. I can’t decide which colour tastes best so I just keeping biting them all. I wish you would smack my big brothers and sisters though with your wings when they scoop me off the table and put me back on the ground. Or worse when they put me in that big white jail. They even stick their fingers in my mouth and scratch all the crayons out. I would think you would smack them since its your job to keep me safe and I feel perfectly safe on the table! By the way G.A. do you have any idea why my family likes it when I draw beautiful pictures on the paper but not when I draw them in the books or on the table? I mean - the colours are all the same no matter where I use them so why do they like them on the blank paper so much?

Anyway - we finally got to have some of that green cake and I have to tell you - as much as I love crayons the cake was better. I will have to look for a green crayon in that shade and see if it tastes like that.

I love to be the center of attention and I have found a great way to get everyone’s attention just before we eat. I have noticed that before we eat, everyone stops and they all say the same words together. Every single one of them. Emma who is still 3 G.A., even tries to say them and she puts her hands together too when she is saying these words. Everyone smiles at her when she does that, so I have started putting my hands together also. Now everyone smiles at me too. Aren’t I just so clever?

I love you G.A. Good night!

Elsa Read more!

Saturday, August 05, 2006

a blogger moment

Emma, had a few dolls spread about her and she was struggling with the dress on one of them when Elsa, happened upon her. Now, for Elsa only being fifteen months old, Emma at the ripe old age of three and a half is the apple of her eye. If Emma finds it entertaining - well it just must be the cat's meow.

So Elsa squatted down beside her and began to ask for a doll and a share in the play in the fashion parade that was occuring. Not yet able to speak, we have taught Elsa to open and close her hands while also saying mum mum mum!

Emma, who often passes over whatever she is playing with to Elsa at her first request, continued this time to play with her doll, and in a very grown up tone of voice answered Elsa;

"No mum mum mum's today Elta. I'm paying by myself right now." Read more!

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Do you ever...

...wish for a moment of peace and quiet. Do you ever mutter aloud "Oh My goodness I wish (child/baby's name) would just STOP crying. I would give anything for him/her to stop whinning at me!"

Because of the tremdous echo in our new home I have of late been making these very lamentations and immeadiatly felt guilty as I wondered what would it be like to suddenly not be able to ever hear her or him again because of some tragedy. Idealy in those moments I really should go and hug that child but typically I push the guilt feelings down and keep on with the chore I am trying to finish.

However, with the recent tragedy of one Catholic family losing their child and now a posting that I came across on and my own daughter's recent scare of a possible brain tumor I am trying to listen more to those gut feelings. Last night I thought I would go crazy while Elsa nursed hour after hour, often waking with a start as if in pain or afraid. My husband was away on a business trip and so I was alone with this very fussy child. I was so tired especially as I am recovering from a bout of flu and I felt annoyed by this intrusion to my much needed rest.

But then I thought about how at my age (44) this beautiful baby is most likely my last - when will I ever have this opportunity again to be so needed and wanted. Implicitly! So I laid there and gently smoothed her brow while listening to her soft breathing, almost too soft to be audible. And then when the sun was just beginning to soften the darkness she fell into a deep sleep, her body finally relaxed and peacefully. I felt such relief and stretched my cramped limbs and rolled over ready to join her in her blissful sleep. But before I could completly relax there was a quiet knock and Elsa's 3 year old sister joined us in my giant king sized bed.

I groaned and hoped fruitlessly that she would just join Elsa in her deep slumber without yet asking for her customary morning baba. However it was not to be and within moments I was treading down the stairs where I searched silently for the bottle, the juice and the filtered water needed to make this ritual complete. Then I trudged back up the stairs and handed Emma her "baba" and listened to her contented swallowing and waited for her to pass me the empty bottle, the final step of her morning routine. Tonight as I read this post My Story that had been linked to from the yahoo group mentioned above I feel even more gratitude f rall of my wonderful children. I feel even more blessed than before that my 23 year old daughter's tumor was just a burst blood vessel caused by a huge mirgraine.

I need to remember to be grateful for every little interuption by one of my children because it means they are here and able to interrupt me! Thank you Jesus for the sleepless night I had last night and thank you for the little angel who interrupted it so many times. Thank you! Read more!

Considering getting your teen a cell phone...

Are you, like many parents condsidering getting your child a cell phone so you can be in touch with them when they are at a local baseball game or walking to piano lessons? You might want to reconsider this idea. Perhaps a pager is a better idea. I don't know if any have GPS capabilities - if you want to be able to track a teenager who has, heaven forbid, gone missing. I also don't know if a pager is any assistance if a child has need for 911 service but when you read the aricle I have linked to below - you will want to learn more about what various means we might, as parents, want to use to stay in touch with our teenagers beside cell phones. Anyone who has alternative suggestions or experience with this please share with us.

Porn and your cell phone... Read more!


Nay, enslaved to perfection. That is what I am. And it gives me so much grief. And worse, I have realized this addiction causes me to sin terribly. When I strive for perfection beyond reason and to the point that I cause pain to other members of the family by being irritable and grouchy to those I love - simply because my house is not perfect or because I am not meeting goals I have made for myself, then I am committing the most grievous sin of all, I am breaking the First Commandment.

"I am the LORD your God (who brought you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of slavery) Thou shalt have no other gods before Me... .."

If I allow the seeking of perfection, and artificial perfection at that, to injure those I love than I am indeed putting my goals ahead of God, who commands me to love my neighbour as I love myself; I am being most disobedient to my Heavenly Father.

Does the condition of my house matter more to God than my spiritual state, or how my lack of charity towards my children leads them to sin? For I know that when I am cross and speak in a gruff manner to one of my children or answer them with sarcasm that they in turn inevitably do the same to one another.

And when I do this to one of them, I also do this to Christ, my brother.

This is just not acceptable and I who have been seeking a cross to offer up have just found one. My lack of perfection. I have been wanting something to offer up as a works during the day and instead of offering up a clean room to God, I will instead offer up the un-swept pile by the front door, the mounds of boxes yet unpacked. I will offer up a story read to my child when I really want to attack those boxes of books and set them tidily on the shelves now finally set up. In this way, together with God, I will achieve perfection. Hopefully it will be the perfection of my soul, rather than of my house. Read more!

Wednesday, August 02, 2006


I crawled out of bed, my vision blurred with my contacts feeling like they were glued to my eyeballs. I could almost hear my back creaking while I groaned aloud at the effort of standing straight. I gingerly swiveled my head from side to side hoping to lessen the tightness that held it stiff. I felt crumbs crunching under my feet and I groaned again - this time at the painful thought of trying to swish a broom from side to side with the arms that hung heavily at my side. Tears welled up in eyes and I forced them back while also wanting them to just flow - hoping maybe their release would release me from the pain that I was in.

I pulled on the clothes I wore yesterday as I have yet to find all of my clothes, and the shorts I purchased yesterday were still in the van where I had left them. Yesterday was our 26th anniversary and we celebrated it with breakfast at Cracker Barrel followed by ice cream at Maggie Moos later in the day and I topped it off by coming down with the old fashioned flu. As I still had much packing and cleaning to do at the old house I swallowed 2 Excedrins and when those did not do the job I swished down two Advils which kicked in about 30 minutes later. Still I was not much good for anything but I did get a few laundry baskets loaded with clothing and thought about washing them. That’s as far as I got. I thought. Then I thought about sweeping the floors but again that is as far as I got. I thought about it. Still I knew I needed to do something useful but preferably something that did not require movement, not even my eyes wanted to move if not necessary. So I opened up my Vonage account on the internet and changed our phone number to a local number and then sent our oodles of emails announcing the phone and address change.

Several hours later when we pulled up in the drive at the new house yesterday I whispered to my husband; “Please would you scoop Elsa up and take her into the living room so she will not see me come in. “
He looked at me puzzled “Why don’t you want her to see you?”
“Well - I really need to go to the bathroom and I want to get my nightgown on before picking her up because after not seeing me all day she will be devastated if I have to put her down after picking her up. I can’t bare to do that to her. I just want to be able to crawl into bed with her and stay there for the night.”

So once I was all settled someone, I don’t even remember who, brought her to me and she and I cuddled together while she nursed herself to sleep. However I paid for my sins of disappearing from her for the day as she made up for it by waking every hour so as to comfort herself that I was really there and then would nurse herself to sleep again. And while I have acknowledged that my bed is (much) more comfortable than the floor, I must admit I have found new hills and valleys in it that I swear were not there before we moved and these nights I am vaguely aware in my sleep that I am about to roll off my side of the mattress.

When I awoke this morning I was so hoping to be over this ill timed bout of flu. Alas this was not to be, so here I sit, thinking about the floors in this house that need to be swept and the boxes that need to be unpacked and I wonder where are the shelves that we brought with us yesterday. But instead of cleaning and organizing I will have to spend my afternoon doing what I have complained and whined so much about not having enough time to do. Play and read with my little ones. And when it comes down to it - what is more important than that? The floors will eventually get swept and the boxes unpacked and the shelves will get brought into the house all in good time, but more importantly, after having had bit of a hissy fit earlier in the day, I will now model to my children how to gracefully accept the cross I am being asked to bear. Read more!