Reflections on dad’s death, one year on.

I feel like I’ve spent a lot of the last year just trying to dodge well meaning people who want to have conversations that I don’t feel like having. I’m sure this is more my paranoia than actual reality, but I’ve found well-meaning words with little understanding of me or my situation do more harm than good. In fact I think I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid people’s input, after discovering at an early enough age that most people just don’t “get” me. Dad always did, tho, and Mum is the first to admit that he could figure out what was going on when she couldn’t. My way of grieving isn’t to sit around just feeling sad or regretting my loss. Feelings are feelings, and facts are facts, and so it’s not like those times aren’t present but I’d rather focus on the good memories and the ‘hope of the world to come’ than lamenting all that might have been.

I spent most of the 14^th-16^th bracing for a potential “onslaught” of messages. At first I thought this was sort of vain, but then when absently scrolling through Facebook to distract myself and noticing that someone, not in my immediate family, was using dad’s face as their profile pic I realized that I wasn’t completely off base. Nothing like trying to kill a few moments of boredom and having your dead father’s face stalk you around social media because no matter how many times you try to block or hide the posts they’re everywhere – newsfeed! FB messenger! stories! It was rather ghastly, until it became so incredibly pervasive that I had to see the humour at the level of awfulness this was. Well, thank God I’ve always been able to find something funny in most situations.

My actual plan for the “memorial” worked. As I remarked to David, people like us, who take big risks and have to push regularly beyond our comfort zones don’t get the “luxury” of taking to our beds when things get hard. I’m not negating self-care, and I certainly have had plenty of that thanks to my loving family, but I’m not in a position where I can really just take a few days off work so I can sit in bed and be depressed. I wasn’t happy, but at least going to the office and focusing on the mountain of work I want to complete before my impending maternity leave was something to do, rather than giving my brain any more excuse to rewire itself to find certain days/times of year depressing.

So, one year survived. Natural drive for analysis makes me want to “score” it, but that seems ridiculous. It was a year of survival mode, for more reasons than just mere grief, but it also had its glorious times. Most of January – April was a blur but then once life for the next year sort of had a settled pattern I could crawl out of the fog and, in early May, we took off on our vacation to Hangzhou. Climbing through the hills there and praying for dad’s soul at a mountain temple were what I needed to complete that first stage, to connect once more with the world around me. After that it was a matter of slowly cutting back on the bad coping tactics. I’m sure it has not been an easy year for my family, but fortunately they haven’t made me feel it. And there is something wonderful to be said for a husband and children who quietly pick up your pieces and just get on with it, never making you feel badly for what you can’t do, and always supporting you for what you can.

On the way home last week a local woman struck up a conversation with Walter, and as he expressed his adoration for his father I realized that the torch has been carried. I love that my children have a dad they can adore just as much as I adored my dad—

Woman: Why are you in Shanghai?

W: Because my daddy has a way good job. My daddy is way smart and he works hard so he has a good job and soon he’s going to have an even better one because he is so smart!

Mother's Day

The internet has had its annual production of various Mother’s Day themed writings & discussions – reminders to be courteous to those who long to be mothers or whose children are not living, sorrowful reflections from those whose mothers have passed, debates about whether or not the moms of “furbabies” should be included in the celebrations, talk about gender and modern families, complaints about juggling expectations… you name it, you can find an article on it. 

Since having kids of my own, my thought on Mother’s Day is that it should be a day for treating your mother like a queen. Think of all the discomforts she suffers on a daily basis trying to make her family comfortable and give her at least ONE DAY in which she can be completely spoiled. No cooking. No errands. No chores. No breaking up fights. No having to entertain anyone but herself. Basically no doing anything she doesn’t want to do. That would be ideal. And it doesn’t have to cost a thing unless you want it to, so you don’t even have to feel like you’re participating in a great Hallmark Card Conspiracy in celebrating the day (which is cool, because although I like presents I don’t like commercialism and boy-howdy was a seeing a lot of that when the internet suggestions for Mother’s Day in my neck of the woods all involved taking me out for very expensive meals).

I won’t say that what I’ve described is a fantasy, but I do wonder how many of us find it a reality. I doubt my mum did. Mother’s Day is a Sunday, which meant church, but to keep her from having to cook breakfast my dad would always treat us to McDonald’s before the service. Mum likes McDonalds but she hates getting up early, so I’m not sure if this was a win-win solution. After the service would be the obligatory family dinner, which on the one hand was nice because she loves her family but on the other hand meant a so-so brunch at a local hotel because that’s where my Gramma liked to go etc (my dad, with none of his family in town, would of course get to go wherever he wanted for Father’s Day). My brother and I would give her whatever paltry offerings we’d managed to make or buy, and I’m sure that these were at least treasured for the love behind them even if the quality was sadly lacking. And, having heard so many times since birth how lucky my mum was to have us (after years struggling with subfertility) I’m sure we felt our presence to be gift enough.

I wish I could say that having children and beginning to understand the supreme sacrifice of motherhood has made me a much more attentive daughter, but rather I’ve spent most of my adulthood living far away from home and struggling to get gifts/cards into the post on time (exacerbated by having my own children)… I can’t even give her the gift of having her grandchildren around on Mother’s Day, because we live halfway around the world.

Ah yes, my own two children… this is my fourth Mother’s Day and while it gets a bit easier as they grow older I am still waiting to just be adored & cherished, perhaps worshiped, for the sacrifices I daily make to keep this family trudging along -- the early mornings, the half-eaten meals, the physical pain, the immense effort of patience, the nights spent anxiously worrying, the trying to get time to myself despite constant interruptions. My first mother’s day was relatively easy – we went for lunch after Mass and I think I took a nap. Walter slept. My second mother’s day involved having to drive to the airport to pick up David, who was returning from a trip overseas, and Walter had tantrums most of the day, and I was just plain exhausted. Ditto for the tantrums for Mother’s Day the Third. Last year was pretty good, although I think there were still a more than usual amount of unpleasant incidents involving moody children and I’m pretty sure I ended up an exhausted mess by the end of the day because I tried to cook myself a fancy dinner. This year we’re keeping things super simple, as 3/4s of the household are under the weather. The tantrums are mostly avoided by this. At around noon I realized that I should’ve just booked myself into a spa for a pedicure & a massage, but it seemed a bit late to be doing that, so I bought some street food and took myself window shopping. The children aren’t in preschool so there are no adorably awkward craft-gifts coming my way and, to be honest, I don’t even know if that’s a thing in China. But we did manage dinner out and I had a lot of r&r time today which is something I never thought would come my way.

There are, of course, always sweet moments. The children will remember, on and off, that its Mother’s Day and they will give me their sweet expressions of love in between the regular murmurs of discontent. Eventually, although maybe not on the day itself, there will be presents of things I like and a card that they have laboriously worked on with some direction from David. It will probably take a couple of decades before they realize what parenting entails. It is in the difficulties of the day that I can look for the love and adoration that I wish would be more politely expressed. Each Mother’s Day when I am denied sleeping in because even if David got up they would just yell & carry-on for me until I came out is, in its way, an expression of their love. Every meltdown directed my way is rooted in their faith that I can solve all problems and heal all ills. And even my wish that for just one day the world could give me a break from my burdens and I could just exist, catered to and with no cares, is a reflection of all that I have been given to care for and cherish.

Waiting to Move

I mentioned that the kids & I were waiting for some paperwork to come through before we could join David in China. As difficult as it is to be without him, there have been a few benefits to this (for us, probably not for him!):

1. Settling in to life in a new country is always challenging, and I don’t just mean the learning to do things in a new place. Expat life has this really glamorous image thanks to those Expats who work for big multinational corporations that give them incentive packages to live overseas. This is certainly not the reality for many of us, so travel to a new country usually involves trying to squeeze all one’s worldly goods into 1 or 2 suitcases and then doing a fair bit of roughing it until one has a chance to set up home. I really hate that David is going through this set-up experience without us, but I’m glad for the sake of the children that things will be a little more settled when we do arrive. 
2. Having time to ease into back into stay-at-home-mum life is amazing. I keep having to remind myself that it’s OK to take as much time as I want to play games with the children – I’m used to having to squeeze all of our fun into a few hours balanced with housework. I know a big part of this is due to being at my parents, since my mum is taking care of most of the meals and if I have any urgent business to attend to I can easily shut the door and get it done, but it’s certainly helping me feel more relaxed and that’s leading to an easier transition with the kids. I’m not sure how things will change once we’re settled but I think there will be a nice change of pace with David coming home from his office every day to give me some downtime. Walter is also supposed to start school in September so I’m trying to enjoy every last moment with my big boy preschooler right now. 
3. Being able to have all this quality time with my parents is great. It’s the first time since the kids were born that my visits will them haven’t had an undercurrent of change & stress. I mean, maybe this sounds crazy since I’m in the middle of moving overseas, and certainly I have my moments of feeling incredibly stressed, but there’s also lots of time to just kick back and enjoy life. The kids are running around the house & playing with my childhood toys, mum & I spend our days doing spring cleaning and planning yummy things to make, we go for walks in town, there’s lots of opportunity to visit my Gramma, and mostly we’re just enjoying each other’s company on this extended quasi holiday.

sleepy Annie is happy she can indulge in green apples & peanut-butter 

building before breakfast

2016 in Review: The Year of Grief

Poor neglected blog! I lasted posted in May, saying it had been a hard year, and although we have had some very good things happen, overall it remained a year of mourning. Death, or the cold promise of it, seemed to touch so many of those we love:

Baby Matthew: Christmas 2015 I met up with my best friend and celebrated that she was pregnant with her second child. Then, several weeks later, we learned that her son was unlikely to survive past birth. We live on opposite sides of this vast country, so I spent a lot of time praying, crying, and pouring my prayers & hope & grief into the below since I couldn’t provide any of the more hands-on comforts that I’m more comfortable with:

Uncle Roy: At the end of January my mum told me that my uncle had just been diagnosed with cancer. Two weeks later he had passed away.

Auntie Ushie: In May I lost my beautiful Grandaunt Ushie. She is one of those family members who appear in my earliest memories and saying goodbye was like saying goodbye to part of my childhood and the security that comes with that network of extended family.

Aunt Diamonds: David’s Grandaunt passed away and that certainly made an impression. I had never met her, but she often was mentioned in family stories and we miss having the updates about her latest doings via the family grapevine.

Auntie Robin: Alzheimer’s continues its destruction of my sweet aunt’s body & mind. These days I almost never have an opportunity to see her, so reality as it comes in the form of pictures or updates from other family is always a sad shock. Every time I sing I think about the gift she gave me in training my voice. I am thankful for the years I got to know her as an adult, because we share so many similar interests in books & music, but at the same time I grieve for the slow loss of that relationship.

Gramma: Dementia and “old age” continue their work on my darling Gramma. Sometimes when I see her she is as funny & charming as she was a few years ago, but other times it is clear that she doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Mostly I hate how staged and forced-cheerful it feels visiting her in the care-home. We troop in, usually with donuts, and try to visit, but the visits are never very long and it just doesn’t have the same feel as it did when we’d visit her at home. Also, her home sold this year and it was sad seeing that piece of history (my Grandfather built it up into the structure it is today) leave the family even if that was the practical choice.

Baby Hannah: Shortly before Christmas we received urgent prayer requests for the newborn daughter of friends of ours, as she was being rushed to the NICU with serious problems. Although she is now back at home with her family, it seems that the long term diagnosis is probably not good (ie a degenerative problem) and so we continue to pray and to hope for a miracle.

This is hardly everyone, just the ones that I feel that I can maybe share with the world. It seemed to be a punch of fresh grief each month the past year. Yet, as I said, the year was not without its bright spots, especially on the home front. For the first time since we moved back to Canada I felt a bit of stability and routine in our home life and that is a great blessing. With all that was going on this year I felt it was time to really take care of my mental health and the short of it is that I’m feeling much better than I have in a very long time, perhaps in my whole life.

Now that the kids are both 3+ I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. We can actually just hang out together, relaxing and having fun, or I can get things done around the house, and basically we are just able to enjoy being together as people rather than just as caregiver & infant dictator. It’s lovely! And it looks like after 2 years of half-assed trying Walter completed his potty training saga all on his own, so that’s been a nice change (it’s been mostly a week!). Plus we put Walter in speech therapy and that did an amazing job with both his clarity and his confidence. Meanwhile, Annie has taught me some strong lessons about learning to accept love, and those have been invaluable. The day I stopped hesitating and finally called her “my besty friend” in return to her usual clamourings brought a huge change in both of us and it’s absolutely delightful to have a mini-me following me everywhere and doing girl-stuff with me.

One day I may cover off the doings of the year, tho’ Instagram has done a much better job of capturing our Liturgical lifestyle and various doings. Mostly, 2016 was a year of cozy domestic doings woven in amongst loss & the inevitable growing up that accompanies it.

Fourth Sunday of Advent: Home for the Holidays

The Fourth Sunday of Advent, that wonderful point in time where we're deeply into Christmas/Not Yet Christmas territory. As a kid this was always my favourite Sunday of Advent -- Christmas was *so close*, less than a week away, and school was out and I was home and everything was just geared towards the fun of the holidays.

I usually like to decorate the tree on Gaudete Sunday, but this year that certainly wasn't happening. So we moved it to a weekday, planned an easy dinner, and then let loose with the Christmas decorating! It was so much fun! We don't have much space and with David working from home it's too much for him to try to keep an eye on the kids AND write AND ensure that the Christmas tree doesn't tip over so I opted for a tiny tree this year. I think it was 1.5' tall. But, as we were away for half of Christmas, it didn't make sense to stress ourselves out with a tree that we wouldn't be around to enjoy. And one year if, God willing, we have more space our little Charlie Brown tree can be upgraded to a centerpiece or mantel decoration. Plus the kids didn't care and enjoyed being able to hang ornaments on a tree they could actually reach the top of.

Bobble Head Shakespeare approves. 

My friend's brother made the sign. All proceeds from the sale of his holiday signs were donated to help a family with the adoption of a child from a European orphanage. 

I put up the window clings after the kids went to bed. They were so surprised and happy when they woke up!

This year we had the opportunity to head to Victoria for David's birthday & Christmas (they fall in the same week). Our whole week preceding this Sunday was one of major preparation, because traveling with young children never seems to be easy no matter what. This time around was one of our best travel experiences with them and still felt like running a marathon (my FitBit tells me that I hit 5000 steps by 1pm which is pretty impressive when you consider that it all came from packing/readying the house to leave). We managed to get all the dishes washed and lots of other little cleaning tasks done before leaving. I give myself immense credit for this because I said we should leave on Saturday instead of Friday which meant we could have a much more leisurely (haha) time of getting out the door.

We almost had an emergency when my brother's roommate forgot to leave the keys to the car that was supposed to take us to the ferry. Fortunately my cousin Tara stepped up in a major way and lent us her [super amazing awesome family friendly] van. I was so happy because it is my favourite vehicle (seriously so easy to get the kids in and out and holds loads of luggage) and it saved on a lot of stress and toddler fights on the way to the ferry.

We also had another almost emergency because PHYSICS and I are doomed to be enemies. In the haste of packing up the bottom drawer of our bathroom cabinet did not shut all the way, and one of the kids helpfully slammed the bathroom door shut which caused the drawer to slide out all the way (I think?) which, in our tiny bathroom, meant that the door was completely blocked by the drawer and couldn't be opened. Thankfully, armed with a butter knife and ten million prayers, I managed to slide the drawer back into place after several frantic minutes and we were all good, although my nerves didn't recover until much later!

Emergencies aside, I feel that this is the first trip we've taken as a family, to the Island, where I can look at David and say "we've got this. We're adulting". We have a system down for the ferry -- a spot where we like to sit and where the kids are easy to manage, a plan for how best to feed the family while traveling and trying to not buy too much food on the ferry, and a method for keeping the kids entertained and relatively quiet. It's a flexible plan, depending on the time of day we're traveling, the weather, and the length of the boat ride, but the main pieces are relatively consistent. Arrive early. Secure a spot with ample room so that Walter doesn't feel crowded. If leaving from home, pack some tasty food (like a bbq chicken, baguette, and fruit) buy drinks from the grocery store in advance, but plan to pick up a few supplements (like cheese, yogurt, and ice/water) from the ferry cafeteria because taking a kid through the lineup is a great way to kill 20+ minutes and keep the children separate and occupied. Do separate bathroom trips with the kids because that usually kills 30+ minutes and they need to stretch their legs. Find little chores for them to do, liking carrying trash to the trash can, because it helps them feel like part of the experience (and... kills time!). Colouring is great and we learned on this trip that crayon easily wipes off of the ferry walls (because baby wipes are AWESOME for removing crayon).

Traveling on a Saturday, and arriving in the afternoon, meant that I could have a leisurely time unpacking in Victoria. David's parents are very generous hosts and his mum always has the room done up to perfection for our arrival. We were given "the suite" to stay in on this trip, which gave us plenty of space and privacy (so useful for toddlers and their nap/bedtime schedules). I had the time to get us organised and settled in which goes a long way to helping the kids settle in to strange beds and different sleeping arrangements.

Our Fourth Sunday of Advent was lovely. We were back at Mass after a two week absence. That alone was so nice. We were able to go to Mass with extended family, something which rarely happens, and that also was nice. And we know enough people at Star of the Sea that going there is like a mini reunion. After our giant parish in Vancouver, where it seems like no one notices when we're coming or going, it's nice to feel like part of a community again. Star of the Sea also has an awesome choir, which makes me happy, and it just happens to be a military parish on the naval base, which makes my boat-loving-pirate-obsessed little son very happy. He dubbed it "Pirate Mass" and was quite eager to go.

We never got to the Advent wreath and we never said our Advent prayers but the kids were so happy to be with their Grandparents that I don't think they noticed.

Second Sunday of Advent

It’s the second Sunday of Advent and I’m working hard at trying to fight the Christmas rush, while realising that I’m not just imagining the pressure. Somehow we’ve ended up with an incredibly busy two weeks, after which point we’ll be leaving Vancouver (yay!) to head to the Island and David’s parents for Christmas. Do you have any idea how happy I am that I don’t have to work this Christmas? Do you know how hard it is to work on Christmas when it is not only one of the biggest holidays of the year but also one of the holiest days of the year for your religion? It was a double whammy of suckitude. Don’t get me wrong – the work that I do is important and I felt some solidarity with other professionals who provide “essential services” and have to work on the holidays because evils in this world don’t recognise holidays, but it was hard.

I digress.

The first thing on my radar for this past week was something that I hope will become a new and awesome Porter Family Advent Tradition. November 30th was the Feast of St Andrew and there is a beautiful Christmas novena attached to his feast day. Technically a novena is a 9 days prayer, whereas this Christmas Novena is supposed to be said 15 times a day between now and Christmas, but it’s a relatively simple way to change our daily prayers to reflect the season. In the Perfect World we would be rocking this Novena. In actual fact, I don’t have it memorised which makes it a lot harder to say 15 times a day. Work’s been crazy busy as the holiday season is the busiest time of year so even my plans of saying the prayer at my desk have been scuppered because I’m running around so much. But I’m saying it at least once a day, most of the time with the children, and that’s a good start. It really is a beautiful prayer:

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God! to hear my prayer and grant my desires, through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.

The next thing on my radar is the Feast of St Nikolas. St Nikolas, better known as Santa Claus, is a pretty hardcore 4th century saint who happens to be the patron saint of children and who, in popular traditions around the world, secretly gives gifts to them on his feast day (often leaving them in their shoes). Coming from an anti-Santa household, this has been a good way to reintroduce the tradition into my own family. I’m pro-Santa, by the way, but I like celebrating this feast as a way of introducing my children to the historical Santa. And this year it is awesome, because his feast day falls on a day which just happens to be the day we had already planned to go to Metrotown to get our pictures with Santa. I'm so pleased with this that I might just make it our normal Santa-photo day, assuming work schedules can jive with Santa schedules in the coming years.

Our very somber Santa photo. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one smiling. Both kids were on the verge of meltdowns so we were pulled into the picture and I guess paying donating for only one picture made us persona non grata because they hustled us in and out of there very quickly (unlike last year when we requested 2 photos and ended up with 4). 

I do like to keep the feast simple, so the kids are getting a chocolate Santa, a book, and their Christmas-Mass outfits. The adults will also get chocolate and will make merry once the children are in bed by toasting St Nikolas with a round of "Bishop's Helper" (spiced wine).

Walter's face! This was taken at the precise moment he learned that he couldn't open his present until we'd taken a photo AND he'd have to sit next to his sister. She's being wary because...punches. 

They're actually happy here, but Emily just plain refuses to smile for the camera.

This Sunday also happened to be the dedication of our cousin “Baby Avelynn”, so we trekked over to East Vancouver for the pre-dedication party. My cousins are fantastic hosts and the beer & appies kept coming, including a lovely sausage, cheese, & pickle platter that Tara had on hand as a nod to all things Ukrainian Canadian. It was wonderful to meet Paul's side of the family and to meet my cousins' closest friends.

If I am being cheeky I will tell you that a baby dedication is an Anabaptist response to infant Baptism, although that is not really accurate because there are too many theological differences to draw a true parallel. Suffice to say it is an opportunity for parents and their church community to dedicate their baby to God and to dedicate themselves to helping to raise the child in their faith. My brother and I were both dedicated when we were babies. As an aside, I remember my brother’s dedication being A Big Deal. My dad’s parents came all the way from Abbotsford (and I’m pretty sure that my Großmutter must have been ill with leukemia at the time) and I seem to remember mum being very excited over his blue velvet(?) romper and wandering around the house all misty-eyed and excited. My attitude was one of indifference and boredom...although in my defense I was only 6.5. Anyway, at the time it was impressed upon my brain that this is one of the Things We Do and then of course I converted to Catholicism and it became one of the Things We Don’t Do because we baptize our babies which, of course, as an Anabaptist was one of the Things We Definitely Don’t Do so the whole “what to do with my new baby and my religion” question really becomes quite a complex one for me.

All decked out for my Dedication in the family gown made by one of my aunts. 

That was this week’s busyness. So now we come to this week’s rest, a time to say the Advent prayer and to remind myself that with all the busy preparations for our Christmas celebrations there is time to rest, pray, and draw from the well of peace.

Lord, our God, we praise You for Your Son, Jesus Christ, for He is Emmanuel, the Hope of all people.

He is the Wisdom that teaches and guides us.

He is the Savior of us all.

O Lord,

let your blessing come upon us as we light the first and second (purple) candles of this wreath.

May the wreath and its light be a sign of Christ’s promise of salvation.

May He come quickly and not delay.

We ask this in His holy name. Amen.

First Sunday of Advent

Advent, the four beautiful weeks before Christmas where we prepare our hearts and homes to receive the Incarnation. A time to ponder sinfulness, salvation, and to start us on the road that leads to Easter. Also, a time when everyone around us goes completely Christmas-mad!

For the Porters, the first Sunday of Advent means:

1) David can finally play Christmas music (and watch Christmas movies) without reproach. In the Ideal World it would only be Advent Music, but I can extend my decrees only so far and we have so many great Christmas records that it would be a shame to only listen to them between December 25th - January 7th. 

2) Sunday desserts suddenly become part of the Christmas baking program. Working mum's gotta save time wherever they can, right? So instead of the usual pies, puddings, cakes etc, it's going to be squares, cookies, and candies for the next few weeks. Today we're kicking it off with peppermint bark. I can pretty much guarantee that the Man of the Place will hate it but as it simply involves stirring crushed candy canes into melted chocolate it seems achievable and like something that toddlers can help with. 

3) We will build our Advent Wreath. This family tradition started in Ely, which means this is our third year doing it. People who live in tiny apartments with no storage cannot accumulate an excess of liturgical decorations. Do you know how much space a wreath takes up and how awkward it is to store? Do you know how hard it is to find one that is both beautiful and affordable? 

This morning, on our way home from Mass, the children and I foraged for some winter evergreens to build our wreath. I was hoping for holly & ivy, but instead we managed to find some red berries of dubious origin, one lone adolescent evergreen, and a few hedges of greenery that looked like it might last until the new year. I may have cursed cities under my breath during the whole excursion, particularly as I have it on good authority that rats are nesting in some of those green hedges. I miss the beautiful fenland walks for Ely or the forested country where I grew up, where to harvest Christmas greenery meant a walk to the sideyard and the holly bush growing there and the ivy twining its way up the mighty trunks of the towering evergreens. City dweller by choice I am not.

While the children slept I snatched a few minutes to clean away the toy-and-crumb clutter that seems to surround our coffee table. That way, when they woke up I was able to quickly settle them in to helping with the advent wreath making. My method is simple -- decide what size wreath we want and then cut out a circle of cardboard to that size. It can either be mounted (ie taped) onto a plate or put on a board or directly onto whatever surface we're using. In years past I've wrapped the circle in tinfoil or tissue to make it pretty, but this year Emily suggested that we just colour it in. It was a great idea!

Once the circle is decorated, I lay the base layer of the wreath. This year I formed the base layer with evergreen branches from a young tree, which meant that they were easy to bend. I just stick them on with some tape here or there. After the base layer is down, I weave on a top layer. I like to weave this one in and around the base layer, because it hides the tape and adds a fullness and some height to our wreath. Then I weave in our more decorative pieces, which usually include red berries and perhaps a different type of greenery.

and yes, as I pointed out to David although I might be in my jammies and a cardie I am still rocking 3 strands of pearls. 

The final stage is to add the candles. I misjudged the size this year so our Christ candle doesn't fit, but that's no big deal as it wouldn't be lit until Christmas anyway, at which point we won't be lighting the advent candles. So I will just remove them and maybe use our largest white candle as it should fill up a good portion of the wreath.

And that was that! We set it on the living room windowsill and David read a prayer for the First Sunday of Advent:

Bestir, O Lord, Thy might, we pray thee and come; that, defended by Thee, we may deserve rescue from approaching dangers brought on by our sins, and being set free by Thee, obtain our salvation. Who livest and reignest, with God the Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end. Amen.

I lit the candle and we all enjoyed the cheerful light until the children went to bed.

Love my ghost image in the background? I do not have time to edit photos! But what I am loving is how one of the beautiful wedding ornaments is centred behind our wreath. Our faith is the heart of our family and I'm loving this visual of it.

Here we Go Again

It's a new liturgical year and I'm back from yet another unplanned hiatus. Life with toddlers and working full time is a busy life. I'm hoping that maybe I can find the time to blog once a week, just like I'm hoping I can find the time to do my embroidery at least on the weekends and keep up with my emails and remember to apply for all various things I keep forgetting to apply for that the Government will send me now that I'm back in Canada and... well, you see where this is going. 

The thing is, over the past few years of difficulty and stress I've been wondering where my place in this new, harder, world is. In the dreams of a younger me by this point in time I am a stay at home mum in my own house and with several little kids running around. That's not reality for me right now and I don't want to sit around feeling sorry for myself, because I have faith and hope that right now I am where God needs me to be. 

It is often a very lonely place. Because I work full time and then watch the kids full time so that my husband can work (and vice versa) there is not a lot of opportunity to go out and do the things that one needs to do to meet the new people who become friends. And because we're Catholic and being Catholic is basically the sum of who we are and what we do throughout the year, it is always particularly lovely to connect with other people who are doing the same things. Then we seem less weird being the ones who are still celebrating Christmas a few days in January, because our friends are doing it too and in this hipster world it means we're basically the coolest of the cool with our crazy trend-breaking trends. 

In this ridiculously decadent, over-priced mega-city where we live I know that mine is not the only family renting, not owning, and renting a much smaller space than we would have in the ideal world. We may not even be the only family without a van, let alone a car. And I am certainly not one of those working mothers who are sometimes denigrated as selfishly working simply to buy unnecessary luxuries and vacations for my family. My life, and my home, is often messy and full of stress and half the time I think my landlords are secretly wondering if their tenants are complete and total insane slobs. But as my husband likes to remind me, we only get one life so we might as well make the best of it and have fun while we're going. 

So, here we go again. I'm going to try and blog more, because it's a good outlet for me and because these precious days of family life are flying by. There never seems to be enough time to do anything that I love, and I know that is the life of a mum with toddlers, but week by week I am slowly regaining minutes as the children get older and as life settles into a bit of a groove. 

I am going to try and blog more. I am going to try and share how a working mum with crazy toddlers can still live out the liturgical year, simply and easily. I have no idea if I will succeed, or if another surge of activity will tear me away from all my relaxation outlets for another six weeks. But hopefully, hopefully, I can begin to carve out a little space of hope & promise for myself. 

Our Little Liturgical Year -- Part I

One thing that I really enjoy about these early years of being a mum is building our family traditions. There is such a wealth to draw on between childhood memories, the different cultures we’ve been exposed to, and our faith traditions.

The liturgical year, as we practice it as Catholics, fits with the rhythm of the seasons. Advent, that great period of longing, waiting, & preparation comes in those last few weeks of winter when the nights are darkest, and at Christmas we welcome the infant Christ, light of the world, while we notice the slight lightening of the evenings after the Winter Solstice. Easter falls with the first rush of spring, especially here, and the little buds sprouting on empty branches or the green shoots pushing up amongst the brown sludge of winter’s remains provide the perfect setting to meditate on death, life, & rebirth. Aside from these four longish periods in our year there are all the little feasts & solemnities to celebrate, a way weaving our family life into the greater life of the Church. This year, for example, I am going to find a way for us to start marking the Feast of St Anthony, our family’s patron saint.

Of course, being a busy mum of two toddlers it is necessary to retain some reality & prudence when marking out our feasts & fasts. The children are keen to join in with activities, but they have little attention spans & very big propensities for making messes & distractions. There is always a lot that I can accomplish in my imagination, but I’ve found that a less-is-more approach works the best right now. There will always be time to build on our activities as they grow. I know that these are just quick & little ideas, but I’ve found that even a small change in routine is enough to inspire toddlers with excitement & interest. It’s the first step to teaching them to let their faith alter how they live their lives, and it gives us a really fun way to interact as a family.

The Smallest Scale:

Every Sunday is for feasting! I’ve noticed that the Catholic world really loves the post-Mass doughnut, and there is usually no exception in this house (or at least the post-Mass banana muffin for the smallest members of the family). The children aren’t yet involved in dinner too much, because the things I make aren’t high on the toddler approval list, but I do try to shake up their regular eating routine as well & do something fun when I can. David & I usually indulge in some form of Sunday Roast (a great British tradition that I’ve been happy to bring back to Canada—the leftovers are repurposed into another meal or two for following weeks) and I’ve been documenting this on Instragram under #wias (What I Ate Sunday).

The opposite of Sunday, every Friday is for penance as we mark the weekday of Christ’s crucifixion & death. Like the majority of our fellow Catholics, we abstain from meat on this day. We are out in the world enough that it often does feel like a sacrifice – my office’s cafeteria always seems to smell like bacon all day on Friday and there are enough special events involving food on Fridays that it is not always the easy road to take. But I like doing something that allows us to live our faith without having to make a big showy deal of it -- and it certainly has prompted a few conversations with people who know that we regularly are happy to be carnivores. I also think it’s important as a reminder of how lucky we are to be able to choose not to eat meat, rather than having that choice thrust upon us by poverty. Of course, Friday is also our family fun night, so we’ve tried to find a way to incorporate that in—most Fridays we make pizza from scratch. It’s something fun we can do together and which can be easily tweaked to include meat for some but not all when non-Catholic friends & family join us for the evening.

Advent:

The Catholic world has a gamut of different things to do to celebrate Advent at home. It’s a season of repentance & preparation, that time of great longing when we realise how much we need salvation & wait to welcome Christ at Christmas. In our house:

• David is allowed to start playing Christmas music on the First Sunday of Advent, but we don’t put any decorations up until Gaudete Sunday (the third Sunday of Advent)

• This year we celebrated the Feast of St Nicholas with chocolate Santas & Christmas pajamas. The kids put their shoes on the window for St Nicholas to fill. We have a little talk about who St Nicholas is and about how he is going to bring presents to help us celebrate Jesus’ birthday:

Sneaking into their room to put presents on the windowsill while they slept was no small feat!

• We have been transient for so long that investing in an advent wreath hasn’t seemed prudent. Thus a family tradition was born – each year we make our advent wreath. Ideally we forage on a nature walk for winter greenery with which to weave it, but this year the pickings seemed a bit sparse (although next year I know where to harvest my holly!) so we hit up the dollar store. We aren’t always great with remembering to light the candles, since toddlers + fire are not the best combination and it can be difficult to find a good place to keep the wreath lit, but the kids are always excited to be involved in the project and really love lighting the candles & saying the prayers.

"Ducks", bows, and bells -- Can you tell that toddlers picked these decorations?

We can enjoy fire when Baby Annie's contained. Walter kept telling me that it was hot. 

• chocolate filled Advent Calendars to help us count the days until Baby Jesus’ birthday party.

What I meant to say on our anniversary (August 7th wasn't that long ago, right?)

I began penning this on our four year anniversary. I’d been up since somewhere around 3am. First the baby woke me up. Then, just as I was falling back asleep, David woke me up with his coughing & blanket scrounging. Summer colds – no fun for anyone. By 5am I figured I might as well give up on trying to get back to sleep, since the wee sma’s always give me terrible anxiety if I’m laying awake trying to sleep.

I’ve reckoned it up: 4 years married, in which we lived in 3 different countries, had 2 babies, and completed 1 PhD. As David jokingly reminded someone yesterday, we’ve been living out of suitcases for the past five years. So I’ve summed up the past four years as “not easy, but worth it”.

And now it’s quarter to ten at night on our anniversary. My plan for the day – let David sleep in until 10 or 11 and then get him to watch the kids while I took a nap. We’d have a nice relaxing day at home and then head into town for an early supper with Deacon Harrison, Walter’s Godfather, in order to celebrate Walter’s recent birthday. I’d come home refreshed & relaxed and spend part of the evening finding the perfect balance of romance & reality for this post.

In actual fact, I spent the majority of the day at the hospital. David woke up seriously ill. I drove him to the hospital and helped him check in to Emerg, then drove off with the kids to find lunch, then drove back to find out what was up, and then waited with two well behaved but not easy kids. And then it turns out that David has double pneumonia....

This brings me back around to where my thoughts were heading this morning, when I couldn’t find the words to say what I wanted to. I wanted to sell you, and my future self, the idea that with the right person marriage is easy. That with the right person at your side, you can fight the good fight & weather the storm without really having to deal with the messiness of reality. That good communication means always making the right decision & never struggling. I wanted to look back at these past four years of marriage, these past ten years together, and say YES – life is perfect and has always been perfect and will always be perfect because we are together.

That’s not reality. Reality is that marriage, like most of the things worth having in life, is a battle, and it seems to be that we either choose to fight with each other or to unite & fight against the world. And it’s messy and it’s hard and it’s not always easy and it’s so much far from the perfection I aspire to. That’s the price we pay for daring to experience life rather than observe it.

Even with all the struggles & difficulties & uncertainties & sleepless nights, we manage to have fun. We’re always going out on adventures and we’ve never let anything stop us from enjoying our time together. We share our love of books & music & movies. I never thought I’d find someone whose interests so closely aligned with mine. I’m sure David never thought he’d manage to find someone who actually enjoyed living in a sea of books & records (we’re never short of things to read or listen to!). We usually understand each other’s sense of humour & our views on religion, politics, & family life are pretty close.

It’s been over ten years since our first date and there are still surprises. There is still that necessity to learn to balance two similar but different personalities: introvert & extrovert, literal & hyperbolic, sense & sensibility...

I’ve been short on words to newlyweds lately. My life has just seemed a bit too difficult & depressing to want to burden those starting on their hopeful voyage with my doses of hard reality. But I think, if anything, I would tell my newlywed friends to stay strong & committed to the promises they made. The hard times will come & go & come again and they are not a sign of failure. They are just the inevitable price we pay for choosing to live.

The picture is almost a year old and it's the best I could do for one of both of us sans-children. Oops!

Parenting Two under Two/Dr Marshall's 5 Tips

I’ve been meaning to write on impressions about parenting for awhile, but it’s been hard to do without sounding like a complete jerk (here are a list of things that people say/do that piss me off) or a sanctimonious prick (this is how wonderful life with children is blahblahblah). This is, of course, because raising children (or doing anything else in life) has its good days and its bad days and the truth is often somewhere in the middle.

Then Fr John at Blog of a Country Priest (one of my favourite priest blogs) posted a link to this excellent article by Dr Taylor Marshall. An article giving tips for young people raising large families? I’m there! The article is worth a read even if you don’t have kids or a large family, as I think his tips are sensible for living a life that errs on the side of happiness. His comments on mentors, or what I might term community, really struck home. My biggest attraction lately? Blogs (or articles) by other people with large young families. Since we only have two kids, following the trials, tribulations, and jubilations of those with more than two always makes my life look easier. But because we have two-under-two, I don’t feel guilty when I compare my chaos to other people’s, because I feel we’re all in the trenches together. It’s a form of camaraderie.

See, I've realised that people who don’t have little children, or a lot lot lot lot LOT of children, forget reality pretty quickly. It’s like that cliche about giving birth – it hurts like hell but you forget it as soon as its over. That’s why it’s so annoying to hear things like “treasure this time – it passes so quickly” or “your generation likes to complain a lot” when you talk/complain/vent about the insanity. Both of these statements can provide a useful reality check but if I lock you in a room with a tantruming Walter and fussy Emily during the afternoon when both kids seem to be perpetually needing diaper changes and food and constant entertainment ALL AT ONCE, just see how much of your moment-cherishing-not-complaining spirit remains. It takes some time to recover from the battle and return to that happy state where we are reminded yet again of what blessings children are. Unfortunately for those of us in this season for life, the chaos, which is relatively short lived in the human life cycle, is blissfully forgotten by those well meaning, or not so well meaning, commentators. Which, if you think about it, is pretty good news because it means we’ll probably also forget just how crazy it was (unless we have so many kids that it becomes permanently engrained in our memory).

Didn't ask for cheerios. Was given them anyway.

Another great point from Dr Marshall’s article was about counting all things you complete in a day, instead of focusing on what you failed to do. I know that my days end on a great note when I remind myself of everything I did do rather than letting all the stuff I didn’t do drag me down. In fact, my house may be messier but I am turning into a better housekeeper because I actually take the time to clean in when I have a chance. I’m an introvert who recharges by sitting and reading books/sewing/watching a movie so after a fourty-hour work week it was always difficult to find the energy to clean. Now that I spend a lot of time watching the babies with one eye and reading books with the other, it’s a nice break to go scrub or vacuum.


This journey with two little babies is teaching me that I have to let go and turn things over to God’s timing. Rather than a “to-do” list I have a “hope to accomplish” list. If things aren’t getting done, I pray about the list & ask God to help me accomplish the things that are important. It seemed silly at first but I found that not only did it work, it helped me relax about the things that weren’t getting done. Of course it also involved honesty on my side – in return for God’s help with my day, I had to make the conscious decision to be a good steward of my time.

Dr Marshall also talks about ensuring that both parents get enough sleep. With Walter, although I was pregnant with Emily and therefore always feeling exhausted, it wasn’t that hard to sleep when Walter slept if I needed the extra rest. But with two babies it is certainly harder to get a complete rest. And I know that my marriage suffers when we’re short on sleep. It’s so easy to take everything personally when I’m tired, and I also have no patience to do anything but push through the day. It isn’t always possible for us to get enough rest, although we try to help each other, but it is important to remember that the days when one of us is super tired are the worst days for problem-fixing. I get frustrated, because sometimes it feels that waiting for the right moment to talk about important things can take weeks, but important discussions when one of us is exhausted are almost always an exercise in futility. And I’ve found that if it’s something pressing & important it works best to have all my points layed out in advance, so that no precious time is wasted & I can easily communicate what needs to be said, and to pray that God will give us a chance to talk & make a decision.


What I find helps me the most is to remember that married life, and all it has brought with it, is my vocation. It’s more than just a job – it’s the path God has put me on to help me grow in holiness. When I lose sight of this it is easy to indulge in self-pity and frustration. Taking care of small demanding humans who can’t say “I love you” or even “thank you” does not make each day feel rewarding. The repetitive chores of housework can often feel maddening, especially when I find myself cleaning up the same mess over and over again. And, of course, this life is so counter cultural. I like to think that my career-life had a bit of glamour to it – trips down to London to work in the corporate office, helping the police with their investigations, giving advice to multinational companies & major airlines... life before kids seems like life on a different planet.

Oh the glamor -- a pool table AND a Foosball table in the lunch room

Then I think about what it means to embrace married life, to embrace openness to life, as my vocation. I’m called to serve my family. I think that this is counter cultural – as a 21st century woman, I feel like I should be fighting this idea, especially as it’s currently defined in my reality of cooking & cleaning.  Then I think about Christ washing the feet of the disciples. I take care of my family because I love them, but on the days when I don’t feel a lot of that love coming back I remember that I also take care of my family because I love Jesus. When a good day comes to an end, I go to bed feeling positive & happy. And when a bad day comes to an end, I try to do the prudent thing and remind myself that loving & serving this family of mine is my calling. I might feel that no one is noticing my sacrifices, stress, & exhaustion, but I know that God is watching every virtuous & unselfish action of mine and encouraging me to continue on. Repeating a dose of selflessness & sacrifice on a daily basis is only going to help me grow.

7 Quick Takes -- Vol. 21, or mostly the No Sleep Blues

--- 1 ---

You might be familiar with the plight of Meriam Yehya Ibrahim. I saw brief mention of it on the news the other night, and I’ve read more in-depth articles via my Facebook feed. A friend of mine wrote an excellent article with all the information one needs in order to help voice outrage at this case to the appropriate people. Spare a minute, click the relevant links, and add your voice to ours. Saints Felicity & Perpetua, pray for us!

--- 2 ---

St Felicity is the saint that I chose for Emily, so I have felt particular outrage at Meriam’s story (as she has been likened to a modern day St Perpetua/St Felicity). SS Perpetua & Felicity were some of the first non-Biblical saints that I’d heard of. I thought maybe I was being silly for choosing a martyr of the early church, because it didn’t seem like it might be relevant any more. Clearly I was wrong.

--- 3 ---

On a happier note, at least for me...David & I have been really lucky to get a couple date nights recently – we put the kids to bed and my parents obligingly watch them while we head to the late show. We’ve seen Neighbours, which I loved, and Godzilla, which I only found so-so. Driving home from the movie theater makes me feel so young, because late-night drives across Port Alberni always take me back to the summers when I was a desk clerk at the Esta Villa Motel and worked the late shift.

--- 4 ---

And in other news...this has been the week of no sleep blues. On Sunday the monsters babies both slept in so late that we were late for Mass because our human alarm clocks didn’t go off at all. After that, most nights, it’s been a party here from 2-5am. Not fun. Possibly, hopefully a growth spurt that will end soon???

--- 5 ---

I’ve been too sluggish feeling to contemplate leaving the house, so we’ve been trying to get our exercise this week by frisbee playing. It’s loads of fun to toss it around in the backyard after supper. Walter runs & plays & occasionally comes over to see what the adults are doing, and Emily sits outside in a little rocking chair, cheering & waving her legs & sucking on her shoes.

--- 6 ---

Although this has been a week of no sleep blues, I’ve at least been rockin’ in the kitchen when I finally haul my butt in there. Highlights – Long Boy Cheeseburgers (and thanks to my cousin for an old Menu Plan Monday that led me to these babies), buffalo wings, honey mustard pork roast with crackling....so good. And both kids have been eating like there’s no tomorrow, with Walter even saying a big “yeah!” to the question of if he liked mama’s special chicken.

--- 7 ---

Brain too fried to come up with another take, so here’s the theme song for this week (Incredible String Band's No Sleep Blues)

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!