My reviews of homeschool curriculum, my ideas about homeschooling, and my attempts to live as the best possible Catholic wife and mother.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Review of Dig-It! Games' Roman Town
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Review of Writing with Sharon Watson
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Where I'll Be For A Little While...
We're heading to Carlsbad Caverns, Colorado Springs, and Estes Park for a week and half. We rent an amazing house in Estes Park within view of the entrance of Rocky Mountain National Park. I'll confess that while I love to hike, my favorite thing of all to do is sit in the living room with the balcony door open and the mountains right there and read. Reading during the day is a luxury I don't usually indulge in, and reading for hours is something I don't often get to do because I fall asleep at night. In the past, my sister and her family have gone with us, and we are sorely going to miss them this time. I loved having other grown-ups (or people who pretended to be grown-ups during the day) to play cards and games with. I loved being able to see her kids for extended periods of times. For any who don't know, she and I have the exact same family. My kids are 14, 12, 10, and 10. Hers are 13, 11, 11, and 9. We both and 2 boys and 2 girls, including b/g twins. Crazy, right? Oh, and my sister is only 15 months older than I. Tailor made for family vacations, right? We would have much more fun if they were going to be with us, but at least we get to go at all. We haven't been on vacation in four years, unless you count debate tournaments. And I most emphatically DON'T.
It's no secret that I have been having a bit of trouble accustoming myself to the idea that Therese is getting older. To me, she still looks like this, despite a ton of evidence to the contrary.
On the plus side, because of her hamstring ills, I have had the opportunity to spend a ton of time with her this summer, so I'm taking it and loving it. Something no one ever tells you about having kids is that it gets harder every year. When people saw me with 4 under 4, they always said it would get easier. They lied. The more they grow away from you, the harder it gets for a whole host of reasons. How did I get from beautiful Bear Lake to this sad subject? To end on a positive note, seeing the wonderful people your kids become is truly a blessing all its own (yay, me! I didn't think I'd be able to pull that one off!).
Monday, August 17, 2015
The Mean Reds
In Breakfast at Tiffanys, Audrey Hepburn (okay, okay, Holly Golightly) describes the Mean Reds as suddenly being afraid and not knowing what you're afraid of. I hate that feeling. That dread in the pit of your stomach. There's the blues - that horrible sadness even when you don't have anything to be sad about - which some people seem to be afflicted with more than others (raises hand and looks around furtively), but the Mean Reds are so much worse. You just don't know how to fix it because there is nothing rational causing it. Well-meaning people will tell you to take a step back and evaluate what is causing the feeling and force yourself to acknowledge that nothing bad has happened (irony moment - "Nothing bad has happened" is one of the things I say most often to my own kids), but well-meaning people don't experience the Mean Reds. They're not rational and there's no way to beat them back. Of course, if anyone has any ideas, I'm certainly open to them.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Life is Stoning Me to Death with Popcorn
Fulton Sheen once said that hearing nuns' confessions was like being stoned to death with popcorn. I feel like that is what life is doing to me this summer. There is nothing majorly wrong in my life, but it seems like every time I turn around, something else is going just wrong enough. It started with the epic closet fall, which is still not completely cleaned up because of my *&$#@ frozen shoulder. We usually get our best schooling done in the summer, but between Therese's PT for her hamstring and my PT for my shoulder (plus doctor appointments, tests, summer dance all July, etc.), school just hasn't happened. Then, I was supposed to go to Ft. Worth for a week (this week, actually) to see Analisa, but because of my shoulder, I can't safely drive that far (when I drive, I have to "T-Rex" it with my left arm - it's basically stuck to my body). I was really looking forward to spending time with her, so that was a huge disappointment. I am guessing because of my shoulder and the horrendous heat, I have a headache almost every single day. That has put me behind in my work. Then today I woke up sick just two weeks before we are to leave for Estes Park. I am exhausted thinking about everything that has to be done before we can go - fix things for Jack (the dog), prepare our meals in advance, write up instructions for my mom, figure out what we need to take. It all just seems like too much right now.
Am I the only person who has a voice in her head constantly counting the ways in she fails every day? I can't seem to shut that voice up. Then I loathe myself for having and listening to that voice in the first place. Then I add that to my litany of failures. It's a vicious circle. I seriously can't wait for fall, even though it means a return to dance classes, debate, and drudgery.
ETA: Oh, yeah, and the dishwasher and the A/C are both malfunctioning. The two-year old A/C unit can't seem to keep up with the heat and the dishwasher just started short-cycling last night. Joy unconfined.
Am I the only person who has a voice in her head constantly counting the ways in she fails every day? I can't seem to shut that voice up. Then I loathe myself for having and listening to that voice in the first place. Then I add that to my litany of failures. It's a vicious circle. I seriously can't wait for fall, even though it means a return to dance classes, debate, and drudgery.
ETA: Oh, yeah, and the dishwasher and the A/C are both malfunctioning. The two-year old A/C unit can't seem to keep up with the heat and the dishwasher just started short-cycling last night. Joy unconfined.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Fr. Troy
Some of you know how much I love Fr. Troy. He's one of the two major reasons I don't ever want to move (Mrs. Carol, the girls' dance teacher, is the other). I went to Confession on Saturday, and as usual the line was very long. Am I the only person who is very happy to see a long Confession line? If the crowds at Confession and Mass at St. John Vianney are any indication, the Catholic Church is thriving. In any case, I am, as ever, thanking God for Fr. Troy. My children will grow up loving Confession because of him. He has the ability to hone in on the underlying issue of whatever you tell him. He knows that whatever your sin, it's a symptom of something else. When he talked to me on Saturday, I knew that I was hearing Jesus. Believe me (and if you know me, you know this is true), I *know* how stupid that sounds. It's true, though. His voice was so kind and compassionate. He told me exactly what I needed to hear at that time (basically to let go of my control and give God's grace room to work (on/in this situation)). It's embarrassing, but I basically had to run out of the confessional crying (after absolution, of course).
It's so fitting that he is the pastor at St. John Vianney - the great confessor priest. I wish that everyone could experience the joy of the Sacrament of Confession. There is nothing like it. We need to pray for more priests, especially priests with the gift of hearing confessions well.
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