Photos from Wasilla

I realized that I missed posting last week's Keeping House book study.     I have been up in Alaska -- my mom's health has taken a rather sudden turn for the worse and that has kept me preoccupied enough so that I haven't been online much at all.    

Any prayers would be very much appreciated!

It has been breathlessly cold here -- down to minus 25 last night -- so I haven't been out much, but I took some pictures of the sunset last night through the upstairs window of her house.     The pictures are slightly blurry through the glass and don't do justice to the colors, but you can get an idea of the beauty -- the sunsets this far north come very early and last a long, long time especially since the sun has to sink below the mountains.

That little light in the second and third pictures?  It's someone enjoying their Martin Luther King weekend by ski-mobiling on the frozen lake!  Everyone has their own choice of enjoyment -- I am sure it was awesome being out there surrounded by the sky but the chill factor must be a beast!    Alaskans! 

In the next couple of days I'll put a book study post up but it might be shorter than usual.  

New Year Pictures

A Happy New Year!

Since I have not been posting here much and can't think of much to say I thought I would post some family pictures.  We have an unhappy tradition of family-picture-taking.   You can see that Clare is almost never the problem.  It's her brothers.  One is always sure to be frowning, or closing his eyes, or turning away, or trying to disappear off the edge of the picture or behind someone else's head..

Plus, I find California light challenging.   I will say no more. 

We went to our lake to get these pictures.  It has been historically drained to be cleaned out and have something else environmentally friendly done to it.    You can see it in the background of some of the pictures.

I don't know when all our family will be together again.  In a few days we all scatter to different parts of the Pacific coast.    To think, only 9 years ago Paddy was a newborn and my oldest was only 16!  No wonder I often feel dizzy!  

Good form, picture too backlit

A little overexposed now, Kieron is obscured and Paddy looks spacy.

Sean and Liam take a talk break

Nice background, but family all shadowy

Cute, but Sean is completely blocked

Clare and Paddy take some time off

Merry Christmas!

 

A rare picture of all our family together for the first time in a year!   Our clothes are even somewhat color-coordinated.   I suppose it is too much to ask that we all have open eyes at the same time.   

Wishing you all a very blessed Christmastide!

Boys and Bringing in Groceries

Last week About three weeks ago I read Boys and Food by Rachel at Testosterhome.

Feed the hungry. That’s a corporal work of mercy. And during this season of my life, it’s how I’m building the church.

Food is my boys’ love language and I continue to be amazed at the difference it makes in our home. On those magical days when the boys come home to find the larders full, I can sense the difference.

Psychologically, I don’t quite understand it. Maybe they feel secure, maybe they feel at peace. Perhaps it all speaks to that innate hunter/gatherer aspect of a male personality, but that wouldn’t totally explain things because with that theory they would be the ones out shopping.

This came back to my mind a few days ago.  There was a planned power outage, and since husband Kevin works at home, and needs a computer for his work, and therefore couldn't work, he decided to go shopping.  In our rural area, "going shopping" means an hour trip to Costco or WinCo to stock up the garage freezer and the pantry.

 Kevin has traditionally been the actual hunter/gatherer here because for a long time I was the primary caretaker for toddlers and medically fragile children and it made more sense for him to do the grueling trip and cruising of the aisles.  He can keep prices in his head and even do a quick $/lb type calculation on the wing, while for me it takes longer and doesn't go well with boys being attracted towards the candy aisle.

Anyway, we have had a system in place for close to a decade and a half now where when Dad pulls in with an SUV-load of groceries, all the kids go out and unload them and put them away.  It is about the closest our family ever comes to automated regularity.   The car drives up, every kid in the house piles outside and starts hauling groceries. 

Nowadays, "all the kids" means Kieron, Aidan and Paddy.   But it still happens.  This is one chore where (1) no one has to be reminded (2) no one complains.  It's always been somewhat of a mystery to me and still is.

But now I am wondering if some of Rachel's musings could help explain it.  Some ideas that come to mind:

(1)  This literal "bringing home the bacon" strikes an innate responsive chord in them.  ... wakes up their inner hunter/gatherer.
(2)  It is something innately and directly worthwhile.   They go, they see, they conquer.  The food goes right from the car to the kitchen counter to the larder.  It is subdued and prepared.  It allows them to use their strength and see, in return, a tangible result. 
(3) It is about FOOD.  And food is a love language; it speaks to the heart of boys.

Rachel also mentioned something that runs straight to the heart of boys -- the favored Bringing Home of Treats.

Husband Kevin is very good about bringing home a couple of food items that are more "for fun".  Probably most of us have our memories stocked with a few stories from the Little House books or elsewhere, where the parents bring home a couple of treats, like sugar sticks, along with the basic staples when they come back from a trip "to town".

Does anyone have the Pathway Readers around the house?   These storybooks transcend the "reader" genre.  They are about Amish kids and often involve a character trait, but in my opinion aren't sappy or over-heavy-handed like some moral tales.    In one story I remember, a boy is aggrieved because his parents have come back from shopping with ONLY basics, no extra treat.   He complains, and his father tells him that the basics really are the treat -- that he is blessed because he has plenty to eat of nourishing food.  He shouldn't get annoyed because his parents didn't bring home any extra.

I know I said these tales aren't overly heavy handed, and the way I've told this one sounds like it is.  But trust me.   It stuck in my mind because of course, we are like this with God sometimes.  We complain because we don't get the perks, because life has a few difficult parts, and forget to acknowledge that breathing and eating and being sheltered are really, really good things.

Still, what Rachel says is true.  There is something about a Treat that speaks to a child's heart.   The treat doesn't have to be huge.  Laura Ingalls and her siblings were thrilled by candy sticks at Christmas.  But treats seem to connotate plenty and abundance.   God does this, after all.  "Our cups overflow" -- overflowing cups might seem wasteful to a thrifty farm family, but there is something about the occasional extra that is like honey to the heart.   In that respect, even though the Amish father was right in teaching his son to have a grateful heart, the boy was on to something too, even if reacting badly.  He was recognizing that treats have a language of their own.

The other reason that the story has stuck in my mind is that none of my kids has ever complained about what we brought home.   And it's not that my kids never complain.   And it's not that they don't get as thrilled about fun food as any other growing boys.  Sometimes they express happiness if they see one of their favorite foods come out of the cooler or grocery bags.  But they just don't express disappointed expectations. 

Again, I wonder if it's because of that food as a love language thing.   Maybe they feel like acting disappointed would be like telling Dad he was a failure as a hunter-gatherer and that just seems to infringe too much on the relationship.   There seems to be an element of good-sportsmanship there, of loyalty to the father.   I am only guessing based on observation.    But it seems like a good trait to me.  If their attitude to the groceries reflects their attitude towards God's providence, I hope they will be joyful about the "treats" but grateful and content with the sufficiencies. 

Father's Day

My Dad woke up every morning at 5 am and studied languages for an hour or so before coming out of his study and having breakfast with the family before heading off to his days at hospital.

He started as a general physician, was promoted to medical director, became an attache for a term at the World Health Organization, and then chose to return to general medical practice rather than return to medical directing.

He taught himself to play the classical guitar when he was in his 40's, and then taught me.   

If we got talking about some area of interest he would end up piling a whole stack of books that might be related.  He was sort of like the internet in person.  There wasn't a topic of knowledge he did not feel connected to in some way.   He got a good classical type education through a merit scholarship and went on to study German literature in college and then to medical school, but he remained an auto-didact through it all. 

He told stories about his young days.   Lots of stories of all kinds.   He was one of those people who had vivid memories of his youth.

He loved dogs and thought of them as friends. 

He kept journals his whole adult life, and a list of all the books he read.

Whenever he was home he put on music -- mostly classical music, but all kinds of it, from Bach to Beethoven to Bartok, from Dowland to Rodriquez.

He loved to teach and share his learning, but he could listen too, and he never talked down or acted like an ultimate expert in anything.  

He loved my mother with a romantic, admiring love that endured for the nearly 50 years of their marriage.   He handwrote cards for her birthday and their anniversary every year.

He loved food, all kinds of it, and loved finding new restaurants and types of foods.   He loved to share his finds with other people. 

He collected indigenous art wherever we were, so our house was ornamented with Navajo sand paintings and Inuit scrimshaw and everything in between.

He set up dinnertime trivia quizzes and organized a weekly family poker game when we were teens.

He didn't always approve of all our choices and sometimes was frustrated as a Dad, but he relished all our accomplishments and was always honest and loving at the same time.

He shared his spiritual journey with us.   He told us about his heroes and the impact they made on his life.

He collected an immense library of books -- and kept collecting -- and read the books and talked about them.

He loved watching The Simpsons, and loved PG Wodehouse, and cheered for the Red Sox his whole life.

He played percussion in community symphonies.

He wrote a small and eclectic collection of scholarly books mostly connected with medical history.

He kept track of all his friends and relatives and kept in contact with them faithfully over many years.

He had ongoing heart troubles from early years and didn't really expect to live much past his 50's, but in fact he lived out his three score and ten plus a few extra years.   Those were precious years.   

Knowing he had several chronic conditions that could quickly escalate, he got all his things in order well before his death, even choosing his favorite hymns for his memorial service. 

I really miss him.    There's not a day I don't think about him.  Since his actual death was sudden, I did not get to be with him at the end, but because he had prepared so intentionally  for his death and often shared his reflections on his life,  I felt like I got to participate in his life rather than just get pulled along for the ride.  

if Paddy wrote this blog

"Mom!  Write "battle arena".  Now write "sword".  Now write "knight"."

 Paddy goes off to play, then comes back.

"Write ninja. Now write pirate".

In case you were wondering about the outcome-- after some battle sounds, he soon came back.

"The pirate beat the ninja.   There's a sword lying on the ground."

 A few minutes later:

" Now write troll.  And dragon.  And horse.  Oooh, this story is getting interesting, isn't it!"

Too bad you will never know the ending, but you do know all the key elements, at least! 

chivalry in a seven-year-old seventh child

Aidan has some competition now in culinary chivalry, as I came out of my bath this morning to find Paddy on one knee proferring me a peanut butter sandwich made by himself for me and a parchment as follows -- he said the illustration depicts me, his Dad, and himself, with a wedding theme of leaves dropping on us:

This is his last day of being a 7 year old, by the way!

Picnik

Picasa has a new editing feature called Picnik -- fun!  Lots of options, many of them free.

Poster Version

Pencil Drawing

Gratitude at Season's End

"If it were my son," said a nurse who looked hardly older than the tall lanky 17 year old she was referring to, "I'd wake him up about four hours after he goes to sleep.... you know, make sure he is acting all right."

"Acting all right for being woken up in the middle of the night, you mean?" I asked, and she laughed.

"Well, yeah, he will be sleepy, of course. "

So she brought in a wheelchair for Sean -- it was a measure of how he felt that he didn't protest at all about the wheelchair, unlike last summer when he didn't see why he couldn't walk out of the hospital after an outpatient endoscopy.

Altogether, Friday was a rough night for Sean's football team in the rivalry game against the team from the other side of the mountain.  It wasn't just Sean with a concussion, taped to a board and transported 50 miles to the nearest hospital by ambulance.   One of his buddies and teammates got a fractured ankle and another one ended up in the hospital for two nights with a bruised kidney.  That ends the season for all three of them. 

We got home at almost 2 am Saturday morning.   Aidan threw up on the way home, giving the trip that fuzzy (and slimy) nightmarish feeling that you'll be driving through the darkness next to your (bravely but grimly) miserable and messy kid for the rest of eternity.   Then Kevin woke up throwing up the next day.    All in all, not the happiest times for the clan. 

Sean still has a massive headache and is prohibited from playing or working out until at least a week after he is symptom-free.   If you want to know more about concussions, check out my friend Chari's post with lots of links.   The newly recognized danger is of secondary concussions.  A couple of weeks ago, a kid in a nearby school collapsed and was brought into the hospital for emergency brain surgery.  He is the best friend of an old teammate of Sean's.    He had gotten a blow to the head the week before but had apparently not told his parents or coaches that he was having headaches.  He kept practicing and played the next game and that was where he got hurt again.


After the tackle where Sean got the head blow, he went back into the game and kept playing till half-time.   We saw the tackle of course, but since he didn't sit out any plays we didn't know he had gotten his bell rung, as they say.  During halftime, from what we heard later from him, he was zoning out and one of his coaches noticed and asked if he was OK.   What we saw from the stands after half time was Sean coming out looking shaky with one of the coaches talking to him.  Then the medic came over and talked to him, then another coach, and then suddenly Sean was lying down on the dirt track with the ambulance (usually there on standby) cruising up next to him.   Then of course I went down and Kevin came down right after.

They said, "We're just playing it safe.  He's complaining of neck pain, so we'll take him to the hospital for a scan."

Another one said, "That was how football ended for me.  Taken out on a stretcher during a highschool game.  That was it!"

Another game medic said "We're just playing it safe with his neck.  But he's probably got a concussion."

At the ER, Sean said, "It's not my neck.  It's my head."   Eventually the X-ray and the doctor concurred and we were discharged with warnings about staying out of play until symptoms were good and gone. 

Sean's not a big risk-taker, and he didn't go back into the game to be macho.  But because he was a bit disoriented from the blow, he probably wasn't using the best judgment about how he was feeling.   Also, he knew they needed him to win.  That probably didn't help his judgment of the situation either.

I am very grateful he didn't get a second blow while still in the game.   That gratitude will easily take me through Thanksgiving even if for some reason I could not think of another thing to be grateful about.

All Hallows Eve

The space raider getting his AFO on

The Ninja Knight

The pirate

The Space Raider

Ninja Knight again

Ready to trick or treat

Props

It hasn't been a particularly good season for my high-schooler Sean's football team, but this play was a joy to watch.   Sean is playing wide receiver.

(Also notice the classy way the kids on the other team acted -- that's not always something you can take for granted nowadays)

Photo Visit to see Clare at Thomas Aquinas College

Gratuitous pic of the new chapel

Clare hanging out with her younger brothers and her Dad

Paddy being himself

The Boys

Football!

Photo Update

I'm back from camping up in Northern California -- we got to hang around with some old friends and meet some new ones.   Unfortunately.... I didn't bring a camera.   Fortunately.... my daughter did bring hers.   (Do any of you know what storybook I'm paraphrasing from?  Our copy of the book fell apart, but I think I still have it memorized from many, many readings : )).  So the photo credit for most of these goes to her.

Paddy Gabriel age seven!

Clare and Sean (right) with dear friend Matthew

Sean, Matthew, and Liam

Clare (right) and BFF Anne B

Clare and her "little sister" Maddalyn dressed for summer dance.

Kieron and Clare

Sean at summer scrimmage -- 106 degrees that day!

I already feel wistful looking at these pictures.  How fast the kids grow up!   How wonderful to spend time with friends from way back!

a verray, parfit, gentil knyght.

As Aidan approaches adolescence, his special gift or charism seems to be devoted attention to things that usually get taken for granted, like coolers and the spare tires on the back of cars, and stroller wheels, and the alphabet. In his life, these humble functional devices become players in stories, and decorations, and objects of intense and amused interest.

His other charism seems to be service, in which he becomes the functionary, as devoted and unassuming as the coolers and spare tires. We have started calling him "Jeeves". He notices everything we do and tries to anticipate what we will need next. When Kevin is getting ready to leave for a trip in the car he will find his baseball cap, his keys and his cell phone quietly appearing at his elbow. When he returns the cell phone will be, with no effort on his part, plugged into the recharger; his cap will be hung up on its peg and his keys will be back on the shelf where he keeps them. Aidan takes delight in these small details: he reminds me of the little Pixar robot Wall-E and also of Newman's gentleman:

He is mainly occupied in merely removing the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature: like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and animal heat without them.

Similarly, in the kitchen -- when I make bacon I'll find paper towels spread out on the counter next to me for the bacon to drain on. When the tea-kettle boils it is quickly and neatly placed on its customary trivet on the counter, ready to pour. When I start baking muffins and go off to do something else while they are baking, upon returning to the kitchen I'll find them put in the wooden bowl where I usually put them, and the next batch started in the toaster oven (we don't have a real oven right now). The examples could be multiplied.

A new twist today, though, taking into account Clare being home from college.... for context, Clare is the only girl, with six brothers who will quickly devour anything that is being baked. She has learned to set aside her "bit" of whatever is going. Otherwise it will be gone and that speedily. She has a place where she ordinarily keeps her little share -- above her music CDs in a corner of the kitchen.

Consequently, she came out of her room this morning to find this, without any effort on her own part, evidence that Aidan has learned a new step in his muffin protocol, and a new way to add convenience to a family member's life:

Looking at the Quotidian #1

We're heading into summer, so "Week in Review" will probably not quite work for my end-of-week wrap-ups since we won't have many academics going on. I'm going to try just logging weekly what I remember from the week past. That might be a challenge! I can hardly remember what happened an hour ago!

Summer is finally coming. Though we have only had a handful of warm days so far! Optimistically, I cleaned out the wood stove and bought beach passes for the nearby lake, and since then the weather has been brisk and cold. It is supposed to warm up, though, and we see various signs of spring, like the baby steller jays in a nest in our garage, and the carpenter ants investigating kool-aid spills in our kitchen. Kevin will have to do something about the ants -- but it's fascinating to watch their behavior on the counter, how they interact with each other and with the intruders into their space (that is, US).

I am going to try never to complain about warm weather again after this winter dragging on so much longer than our firewood supply. I still feel like I have a frozen part somewhere inside, somewhat like the increasingly tiny glacier that still remains in our front yard under the roof where the sun never shines directly.

Sean finished school last week! and is full into the swing of football camp season. He went to several long-distance ones, one in San Diego and one in Santa Barbara, and this week has a couple of local ones. He's been consulting his uncle, a chiropractor, about a stressed shoulder.

Next Wednesday, Kieron and Paddy are officially finishing their K12 year. Then we go into our summer schedule -- which I want to spend some time planning today. I think my main focus is going to be reviving old habits that I miss. For example, my older kids used to draw or color while I was reading aloud. I think this would be good for Paddy. He's developed a habit of climbing all over the place and doing gymnastics while I'm reading -- he still seems to hear everything but I think drawing would help him with the overflow energy and also get him in a more artistic mode since Art is still his least favorite subject.


Here's a handsome fellow -- the snake, I mean. Liam found him under our deck. He -- the snake, that is -- related really well to the camera, maybe because they both have one cool shiny dark eye on each side of their heads.

Happy 11th birthday Aidan!

Aidan's story here -- written by my husband.

Last Day of Testing

Today was the last day of Kieron's STAR testing down in town, so we got to go to the park with the young ones and feed the ducks and geese. We call them "Paddy's army".

It was a beautiful day, warmer than it is up here with the snow still on the deck!










There were ten little baby ducklings! This was the best picture I could get. My zoom feature is rudimentary.

Life continues to be busy for a while, with Brendan going into finals week and Clare coming home from college.

I have been struggling with sadness -- I don't know if it comes across from reading this blog. Last Tuesday was the first anniversary of my father's death. I miss him so much. Sometimes he seems so close and sometimes so far away. I can't put the feeling into words, so I'll use some of CS Lewis's:

And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps, more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen.

It feels a lot like waiting. Life keeps going ... I love my husband and children, framed with morning light, giving bread to the ducks, and that is real enough, but the minutes inside seem to tick by to a different clock. There's like an eternity inside that easily passing stream of time. The twisting in my stomach, the sudden shortness of breath, is a lot like suspense, only without the anticipatory edge. I can only imagine how it feels to my mother. They were the closest couple I know. When I talked to her recently she said it wasn't as bad as she expected, but then, we also discussed how easily that can turn around in a moment.

Then comes a sudden job of red-hot memory and all this "commonsense" vanishes like an ant in the mouth of a furnace.

Signs of the Season

It snowed off and on most of the second part of the week, and tonight it's foggy.

You wouldn't know it's almost May in California, would you?


A few patches of bare ground




A few brave early spring flowers

And our yearly crop of California flying squirrel babies invading our house --
they seem to think it's THEIR house.


Brendan puts them outside, and they manage to find their way back in.
I'm sure they feel warmer in here than out there!

And some of the Steller jays from last year have returned to raise their own families here (on our deck, not in the house, thank goodness) but the deck's still too snowbound for me to get out there with the camera.

So a few tiny gallant signs of the season!