tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56573374912705547122024-03-13T01:19:30.978-05:00All Our Needs Are SpecialHaving a child changes your life.
Having a child that's different changes you.Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-32567495656165620932020-06-25T09:42:00.002-05:002020-06-25T10:13:08.792-05:00Blueberry Yogurt<span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;">He loves everything blueberry. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;">Never mind that his little 2-year-old self is capable of demolishing a pint of blueberries in a single sitting. When blueberries collide with that other love of his - yogurt - he's in gastronomical heaven. </span><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;">"Mmmm... mom, booberries!" <br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxM4xojz9fR1y8MiJNXNGp8QeKiTRWKe2aGEYKWKLFfOOcMTzRD4GACNjd2MDmsl1skTJa6CGxPG0lQ_Rl0covYUXUaFA7AxcE9pBMymbskhsAexEZvcgNct-T___KkaxsSD04cIQaR6Hi/s1155/proven-benefits-of-blueberries-1296x728-feature.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="1155" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxM4xojz9fR1y8MiJNXNGp8QeKiTRWKe2aGEYKWKLFfOOcMTzRD4GACNjd2MDmsl1skTJa6CGxPG0lQ_Rl0covYUXUaFA7AxcE9pBMymbskhsAexEZvcgNct-T___KkaxsSD04cIQaR6Hi/w256-h144/proven-benefits-of-blueberries-1296x728-feature.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;">Andrew was born a few months after I turned 40. I never realized my life was missing this rambunctious, affectionate, funny, adorable, clever, blue-eyed kid with a mop of curly blond hair - but here he is! He has an birthmark, a stork's bite really, on his forehead, shaped like a heart. When he was born, it was deep and purple, almost like someone had smeared blueberries on his forehead, and on his eyelids, and down the back of his neck and even spilled onto his back and shoulders. The midwife declared it was bruising from the birthing process, but it became clear after a week or two it wasn't going anywhere. It would be a part of him, part of my beautiful Andrew. </span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;">Now, on the cusp of two and half, it's no longer purple but a increasingly lighter red. However, it's still prominent and highly visible; the other children who had stork's bites had their decoration fade long before, but his continues. Because of his fair complexion, it may never go away. It worries me (will he get teased as he gets older? will it effect his self-image?) but it also endears him - it is simply Andrew. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;">My blueberry-loving baby. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana", sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-81873788207497559412020-06-24T23:13:00.001-05:002020-06-24T23:14:11.153-05:00A Post About Nothing Redux<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hi.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Queue dramatic music</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I really don't have a lot of say, except I've decided to write.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Yep, heard that one before</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Seriously, I want to write.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Uh huh... you mean for more than five minutes? </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, I mean more than five minutes. Sheesh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to try something. I'm going to try posting something every day for 30 days. I thought about starting a new blog to do it, but let's face it: I'm lazy and don't want to when I have a perfectly neglected blog just sitting here waiting to be posted on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe it's restlessness from this whole COVID thing. Maybe it's being on a the cusp of a transition in my life, being 42 and realizing there's lots of dream left undone (can you say mid-life crisis?). Maybe it's just a need for intellectual stimulation and trying to keep away from stupid com boxes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ready? Set....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-74233409588279101472018-12-19T14:51:00.001-06:002018-12-19T14:51:31.428-06:00For Sister<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She died on Gaudete Sunday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had seen her walking, as we often do, on our way to Mass. She was going to set up for the kids for catechism class, and then sing in the choir afterwards as is her custom. A mere 12 hours later, she was gone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was so sudden, and feels so hollow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't know her well, but loved her nonetheless. I am having a hard time processing her death and feeling okay with it. I have spent a lot of time these past few days thinking about her, and wondering about death. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bury the dead. Pray for the dead. These are works of mercy, and oftentimes I think they are the most important ones. A naked person might eventually find clothes. A hungry person may stumble on a crust of bread. The ignorant might pick up a book of their own accord. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But the dead cannot bury themselves, nor can they pray for themselves. Only we can do that for them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The archbishop will bury her on Saturday, on the last day of the third week of Advent. One the last day of the week of joyful anticipation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">May the souls of the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen. </span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-77138704167968604952017-01-26T19:55:00.000-06:002017-01-27T11:09:58.530-06:00Journey<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I haven't been writing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well, that's not accurate, I have been writing. Just not on the blog. I've been busy writing on Facebook, and Internet forums, and writing a book of sorts about money management. That one started as a project for a family member to tell them everything I wish someone had told us 10 years ago, and it kinda morphed from there. I've been writing out assignments for my kids and copywork for them to copy. I've been filling out forms. I've been writing the stories my kids dictate to me, to capture their beautiful, vivid imaginations in this moment of time. I've been writing emails and lots and lots and lots of texts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At the end of the day, I've been writing a lot of nothing. Which in my mind, equates to not writing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Why is it important that I write? Besides the fact that I can rarely form a coherent sentence these days, there is something immensely satisfying about writing that I don't get from any other medium. Part of that, I suppose, is because I'm such a visual person<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">;</span> there's something about seeing the words on a page that I find gratifying. Something that is beyond even what I feel when I play a sonata well on the piano. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's important that I write because it captures my life. Moments are quickly forgotten, and having this blog has proven invaluable for me to reflect on our journey. Details about Abby's illness that I've forgotten 10 years on (even when, as they occur, you don't think you'll ever forget <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">them</span>). Episodes in my children's lives that fade from memory. Reflections of my state of mind and soul at any particular moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In short, it's all about the journey. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-62687595477071903232016-04-12T10:42:00.000-05:002016-04-12T10:42:21.345-05:00Luddite<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I got to see <a href="http://fredpenner.com/biography/" target="_blank">Fred Penner</a> a couple of weeks ago. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.cbc.ca/strombo/content/images/PENNERBIO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.cbc.ca/strombo/content/images/PENNERBIO.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">photo credit: CBC</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was marvelous. Also, it turns out I wasn't crazy... a song I always sing to myself that I thought was actually me mixing up two different songs... turns out it's a Fred Penner song from my childhood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So thank-you, Mr. Penner, for reassuring me of my mental status. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But seriously, it was lovely. We took 3/4 kids to the fair, where Fred Penner was doing a show. Abby had day camp that day. While we were sad that Abby missed it, she simply doesn't do well at the fair. Too many noises, too many people, too many weird smells. It's strictly an indoor-agricultural affair, so you can imagine that it can sometimes be... aromatic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fred, he was in the amphitheatre, far away from the livestock. As we settled in, most adults had glowing screens in their hand. That was fine by me - I'm not a Luddite. I like technology. I happen to be the only person I know without a cell phone - smart or dumb - but I understand that they are handy little devices. I don't own one mostly for financial reasons instead of any ideological ones. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was really surprised when no one put their smartphones away when he came out on stage. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The woman next to me texted, tweeted, snapped photos and otherwise didn't disengage from her phone the entire show. C'mon! It was Fred-freaking-Penner! How can you not be totally engrossed? I mean, she was paying attention to the show - as far as I could tell without actually reading over her shoulder, all her "content" was related to the experience - but her phone was part of that engagement. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo credit: Kristen Nicole</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was amused. Silly woman, I thought to myself. I assumed she was surely an aberration. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Fast forward a to a few days later, and I find myself in another theatre. This time, we're at the local concert hall partaking in the latest<a href="http://kobaentertainment.com/" target="_blank"> Koba show</a> to hit town. If you're unfamiliar with Koba shows, let me explain. You know all those characters that your preschoolers like to watch on TV? Yeah, grown men and women put on plushy costumes of those characters and dance around on stage belting out preschool-appropriate show tunes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My kids go gaga over it. They got tickets for Christmas from one of their uncles. I personally think it's a living hell, but the things I will do for my kids (but I digress...).</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fairfieldista.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/MTK_Mike_HERO-205x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.fairfieldista.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/MTK_Mike_HERO-205x300.jpg" height="200" width="136" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So as I'm watching a 6-foot-tall Mike the Knight dance around on stage, I notice that the people in front of me have their smart phone held up, recording. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The person beside them has one. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And the next person. And the next. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Looking around, I realize that nearly every adult in the concert hall was recording with, or engaged with, that little glowing screen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was confused. Or maybe I wasn't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">With four kids, I spend a lot of time in doctor offices. I've also seen my own doctor a lot lately for some ongoing issues. One thing I've noticed is the way people simply can't put their phones down in places like waiting rooms. In a room full of people, the silence is deafening. I realize that we're not there to socialize or chat people up, but there's an oddity being in a room with 30 other people without the accompanying sounds of humanity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, I'm not the first person to notice this - for years there's been things like <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/22/fashion/step-away-from-the-phone.html?_r=0" target="_blank">little games or rules to keep people from picking up their phones during dinner</a>. I do use social media, and I see picture of dinners and cats and all other sorts of personal flotsam that ultimately stems from the ubiquitousness of smartphones. But those two shows really revealed to me, apparently for the first time, just how much it has permeated every aspect of our existence. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It wasn't until a week or so later that I realized just <i>what</i> it was that surprised me so much about. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i2.wp.com/www.becomingminimalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/what-is-minimalism-feature.jpg?w=500&ssl=1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i2.wp.com/www.becomingminimalist.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/what-is-minimalism-feature.jpg?w=500&ssl=1" height="185" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've been very interested in <a href="http://www.becomingminimalist.com/what-is-minimalism/" target="_blank">Minimalism</a> for awhile now. Mostly that's a matter of necessity, with the number of people in our house and a finite amount of space (as well as a finite budget). Part of this philosophy is the idea of giving your children <i>experiences</i> instead of <i>things</i>. This is a very "in" thing to do right now, even if you're not trying to embrace the whole Minimalist mindset. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But it's so odd to me that we can't seem to experience something simply for the <i>sake of the experience</i>. We need to record it, tweet it, snapchat it, blog about it (ha ha ha...!), and otherwise capture the moment for posterity. We simply can't just be. in. the. moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I often struggle with the role technology should play in our daily lives. There are times I do feel like a Luddite because there's so much we simply choose not to have, even though we do have lots of technology in our household. We have tablets and laptops. We watch Netflix and YouTube. Really, now that I think about, all we're missing are smartphones or any kind of "wearable" technology. Yet that somehow makes a huge difference. Maybe because it makes it easier to disengage when we chose to. Maybe because it forces us to simply savour a moment instead of creating an electronic trail of experiences. Maybe because it helps me feel more like a discrete person instead of another cog in the great Social Media Spectrum. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Maybe I'll disengage now and go outside with the kids. It's promising to be beautiful out today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-44526217820195339762016-01-15T17:15:00.001-06:002016-01-15T17:15:40.661-06:00The Combine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It must have been back when we still had cable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How I had <i>never</i> seen it before (and never read the original novel!) still eludes me, but a few years ago I was watching "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" for the first time. Like so many, I was riveted by it. I actually knew nothing about the storyline prior to seeing the movie, but after that I was fascinated by the metaphor of "The Combine". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was serendipity, really, that made me watch that movie when I did. It was only a few days later than my Amazon book order arrived, which included the John Taylor Gatto book <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Dumbing-Down-Curriculum-Compulsory-Schooling/dp/0865714487" target="_blank">Dumbing Us Down: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling</a>. In the forward of the book, written by David Albert, it makes reference to "The Combine" starting on page <i>xv</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In actuality, writes Albert, John Taylor Gatto wrote the Monarch Notes for the novel "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" (Monarch Notes, from what I gather, are similar to what I knew as Coles Notes growing up), and it's "the only book of Gatto's likely read by students undergoing their slow death in what passes for 'educational institutions' these days". The notes, explains Albert, are a masterpiece in themselves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is also an irony that Gatto's message to us after spending 25 years in the school system and winning "Teacher of the Year" not once, but twice, is essentially about the dangers of the The Combine that is the modern school system. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Albert talks about how so much discussion about modern schools focuses on how schools are failing. I know that certainly is the case where I live, where we score in the bottom of the heap on standardized tests nationally. But, argues Albert, as we see from Gatto's work the system is in fact NOT failing us:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Central to this understanding is the fact that <i>schools are not failing</i>. On the contrary, they are spectacularly successful at doing precisely what they are intended to do, and what they have intended to do since their inception. The system [...] was explicitly set up to ensure a docile, malleable workforce to meet the growing, changing demands of corporate capitalism [...] The Combine ensures a workforce that will not rebel, that will be physically, intellectually, and emotionally dependent on corporate institutions for their incomes, self-esteem and stimulation, and that will learn to find social meaning in their lives solely in the production and consumption of material goods. </span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I found these statements, while radical and controversial, to be eye-opening. They rang true to me. We are a society of consumers, a reality that can noted by even the most casual observers of modern Western society, and no one is immune. We are socialized like that. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/typo3temp/pics/9a92b53038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://indigenousfoundations.arts.ubc.ca/typo3temp/pics/9a92b53038.jpg" height="253" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">From the United Church Archives</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The more I dug into the history of compulsory education in Canada, where I live (surely we're different? I reasoned), the more it became clear to me that both Albert and Gatto had a point. The icing on the cake is when I read about <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egerton_Ryerson#Educator" target="_blank">Egerton Ryerson and his role is creating modern schooling in Canada</a> based on the <a href="https://books.google.ca/books?id=WHQTOAtRYM4C&pg=PT83&lpg=PT83&dq=ryerson+prussia+schools&source=bl&ots=rDpIuOTBU3&sig=UJPHZho85NDdWqYSQrzua77xSco&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjWmtXmwKzKAhUG1x4KHVHkDycQ6AEIKTAC#v=onepage&q=ryerson%20prussia%20schools&f=false" target="_blank">Prussian model, and the instrumental role he played</a> in the development of<a href="https://www.aadnc-aandc.gc.ca/eng/1100100015576/1100100015577" target="_blank"> Indian Residential Schools</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I knew I wanted different for my children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That was at the beginning of my homeschooling journey. I have tempered my views a bit over the years - take your tinfoil hat off, Carolyn! - but the fact remains that when people ask, "What about Socialization?", my answer is, "Excellent question!". What about socialization? Do you know what that means and the impact it's having on you, me and our children? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">People intuitively know the power of the conditioning and programming that occurs in school - it's the <i>first thing</i> the overwhelming majority question regarding NOT sending your children to school - yet it's not a conscious thought for most. It's therefore difficult to conceptualize "education" to be any other way, even when "education" in the sense we commonly use the word is a secondary consideration in the way the system is designed. I struggle with this conceptualization constantly. I am absolutely choosing a different socialization for my children. I do not wish for them to be eaten by The Combine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But it's not that simple, is it? I mean, The Combine is not just school. It's television, social media, even children's books. My experience has been that <a href="http://simplehomeschool.net/twaddle/" target="_blank">twaddle</a> almost always has a not-so-subtle message that ties to that Combine socialization process. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(I think that's a topic I will circle back to another day - I wrote the preceding paragraph without really thinking about it, which created an "ah ha!" moment. An idea that I've never had before, and something that merits discussion after I've had time to flesh it out better.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Okay, back on track... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What brought all this talk of The Combine up anyway? Actually, it was a job interview. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">How much am I getting paid for this photo shoot anyway?</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I recently applied for a temporary job with Statistics Canada. To be precise, I applied for a position doing the <a href="http://www.census.gc.ca/ccr16d/ccr16d_000-eng.html" target="_blank">2016 Census</a>. I passed the initial screening, I passed the written testing, and then was called for an interview for a supervisory position. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yay me! Not bad for a chick who hasn't had a paid gig in over eight years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But something funny happened in the job interview. As we're talking, and I'm finding out more about the job and the client groups and the processes, the more I realize I don't want anything to do with it. I mean, the job would be enormously difficult for me to do anyway with the sheer logistics of child care, office space and personal availability, but there was something deeper that was making a sense of panic rise up inside me at the thought of going back to doing that sort of work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I suddenly realized that I felt like I was trying to scramble back on board The Combine. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That was such a disorientated feeling. I worked for the federal government from 1999 until 2006 when Abby was born, and went back to work briefly in 2007 before deciding to stay home full-time. I actually quite liked my job back then, even if there were aspects of it I strongly disliked or disagreed with. Discussing in the interview certain theoretical and actual scenarios, and linking those situations back to my previous job, I began to understand the role I played in the entire Combine structure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I can't talk too much about my old job, as I am perpetually bound by the terms of my employment to not reveal confidential information. But the kind of work I did - requiring people to fit in certain pigeonholes for the purposes of administering the <i>Income Tax Act</i>, and ensuring my fellow employees were following work instructions to administer the <i>Act</i> - has suddenly left me with an enduring sour taste in my mouth. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A job with Census would mean much of the same. I would be required to compel people to fit in pigeonholes, under threat of prosecution if they don't. I understand, and agree with, the need for good Census data, or with the need for people to comply with the <i>Income Tax Act</i> to ensure fairness to all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Damn it, I agree with good laws and good governance. Why am I having such an issue with this? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was reflecting on that question that forced me to ask myself <i>why</i> I believed in good laws and good governance. Certainly, I've been through The Combine and have been conditioned that we should obey the Government and all laws set out by them. That led me to the uncomfortable conclusion that I follow all laws set out by the government even when I vehemently disagree with some of them. Why did I do that? Why do I do that even when I acknowledge that some of these laws (or in the case of abortion, lack of laws) endangers others?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, there I had to stop thinking for a bit. It was disquieting to spend too much time meditating on that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Disquieting things, however, have a way of oozing back into your consciousness whether you want them to or not. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was, in the end, forced to ask myself if I was being hypocritical. I embrace Catholicism after all, and I choose to pass that belief system to my children. Some people argue, validly I might add, that religion is in itself a system of social control. </span><br />
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<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cd/Cleric-Knight-Workman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/cd/Cleric-Knight-Workman.jpg" width="195" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, I say that this argument is valid, because from a historical perspective it is. Using Christian Europe as an example, for many generations the Church did provide a social control mechanism by sharing common beliefs, mores, attitudes, culture and laws. These things were done largely for the benefit of our salvation (although there certainly were horrendous exceptions) and the stability of society. The shared culture and beliefs within a society has historically created strong, cohesive groups, such as what existed in the Middle Ages. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But move forward to the Reformation, and that cohesiveness starts to come unglued. Europe is no longer united under the banner of Catholicism, but starts to fragment. This paves the way for the Enlightenment, which begins the large-scale abandonment of belief in general. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Or does it? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The more I pondered this, the more I can't help think that because of the human need for belief and <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/ethnocentricity" target="_blank">ethnocentricity</a> is literally hardwired into us (see a summary of this experiment where it can <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/religion/11935492/scientists-reduce-belief-god-hostility-immigrants-magnets.html" target="_blank">actually be turned off by disrupting electrical activity in the brain</a>), we simply replaced one system for another. As humanity has become increasingly mobile and groups mingle more and more, cohesiveness is further lost as thousands of groups interact, each with their own beliefs (or lack of belief), traditions, and customs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We no longer have Christianity as a control mechanism in our Western society, so we replaced it with The Combine. Except instead of a system that has our interests at heart (which, in theory, Catholicism does...), we have a system that has fundamentally capitalist interests as it's foundational premise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, I'm not saying immigrants are bad (they're not), or that everyone should be Catholic (okay, I <i>do</i> think that, but I know that's not realistic), or whatever other weird ideas you've gotten about me at this point (some of which may or may not be true, we'll sort that out later... ha ha ha!), but I'm proffering the above simply as an explanation. The Combine is something I routinely struggle with, as it seems obvious by this post. I have guilt oftentimes too because I <i>do</i> choose to send Abby to school, but precisely because of the social control mechanism it provides. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So back to Gatto. In his essay/speech "The Psychopathic School", which he presented when he won New York City Teacher of the Year, he gives a description of the grind his students are subjected to in terms of influence from the two primary activities children do: go to school, and watch TV: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here is the calculus of time the children I teach must deal with: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Out of 168 hours each week, my children sleep 56. That leaves them 112 hours a week out of which to fashion a self. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">According to recent reports (1990), children watch 55 hours of television a week. That leaves them 57 hours a week in which to grow up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My children attend school 30 hours a week, use about eight hours getting ready for and traveling to and from school, and spend an average of about seven hours a week on homework - a total of 45 hours. During that time they are under constant surveillance. They have no private time or private space and are disciplined if they try to assert individuality in the use of time or space. That leaves them 12 hours a week out of which to create a unique consciousness. Of course my kids eat too, and that takes some time - not much because we've lost the tradition of family dining - but if we allot three hours a week on evening meals we arrive at a net amount of private time of each child of nine hours per week. (Dumbing Us Down, pages 25-26)</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That makes my heart ache. Our children have a scant nine hours a week alone with their thoughts. Of course, the above was written in 1990, before social media, smart phones, and the permeation of the Internet into our homes. The most recent statistics I could find stated that the <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/technology-32067158" target="_blank">average child spends 6.5 hours per day in front of screens</a>. Teenaged boys spend the most at eight hours a day, and many children will use multiple screens simultaneously. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What does that mean?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sometimes, I think it means we're doomed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-66000121848358849192015-12-31T16:50:00.000-06:002015-12-31T16:50:33.151-06:00These Last Days<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sorry I have been ignoring the blog as of late. My health hasn't been good lately, and I went to the doctor to see if he could tell me what was wrong with me. I thought my iron or something was too low, I was overwhelmingly tired all the time. One of the first questions he asked me was if I was depressed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">No, I said vehemently. I have experienced clinical depression before, and this isn't it. He let the matter drop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He did, however, plant the seed of doubt. Maybe I was, I thought. I now realize that it isn't my health per se that's failing me, but my mental health. Depression has a funny way to creeping up on you without you realizing it's even in the room. I don't think it's anything specific - just the daily grind wearing me down. Too many years of not enough sleep, too much chronic stress, and physical clutter that causes mental and spiritual clutter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I've embarked on a "get healthy" plan. Getting to bed earlier. Switching up sleeping arrangements a bit to help Christina sleep better too... maybe even through the night! Applying for a temporary job with Census. Moving forward with "organize the closets" project and general ruthless decluttering. Starting taking some supplements that have helped in the past, including 5-HTP and B12. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don't want to go on antidepressants if I can help it. I've been down that road, and the side-effects were difficult. I will as a last resort, but only as a last resort. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">These last few days of 2015 I feel like I've accomplished a lot. More than I accomplished the few last months anyhow. I am finding the decluttering especially energizing, and it's keeping me motivated. It's unreal the amount of stuff I can just get rid of - stuff that hasn't seen the light of day in years sometimes - and often it's just outright garbage that I throw away. The kids complained initially, but I think they are starting to see the changes. There's more floor space. Things are put away. They can find what they're looking for. Mom is happier and more energetic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So here we are. My New Year's resolution? Not really a resolution, but a determination to continue on this new trajectory. A trajectory that doesn't result in my crashing into the Earth again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-86874913555209625672015-11-14T23:44:00.002-06:002015-11-14T23:49:22.953-06:00Thoughtful/Three Things<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's been a weird week. </span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">First Thing</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We went to Winnipeg last weekend. I went to a Latin Mass. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I never want to go back to an Ordinary Form Mass again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I made some notes about the experience that I want to share: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was a Low Mass, which is what I expected. They had little missals to borrow, and it wasn't hard at all to follow as it had a clear explanation of what the priest was saying/doing even with little diagrams to make it easy to figure out where we were.<br /><br />I can't believe the sense of peace I came away with.<br /><br />The long stretches of contemplative silence while the priest faced the tabernacle, faced God(!) and did what he needed to do. Sometimes I followed the text of what the priest was saying (but I can't hear, it's not for my ears after all!), but sometimes I allowed myself to fall into prayer.<br /><br />The way you need to pay close attention, as the priest will abruptly turn or speak or do something that requires a response that snaps you back to the moment.<br /><br />The way we are all equals, there is no showman or readers or dancers or anything else. We all face God, even the priest. He is bridging the gap, not acting as the cork.<br /><br />The way the Latin responses rolls off you tongue, it reminded me so much of speaking in tongues, me not understanding what is coming from my mouth but knowing God understands and that's what's important. It's not about me.<br /><br />The cries of babies and little children, and no one seems to mind because they are part of the prayer, of the silence.<br /><br />The knowing I was connected, for that brief moment, to the Church Triumphant in a way I never have been before. This was their Mass, of countless individuals before me stretching back across time.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So I've been worried all week about what will happen<i> next</i> Sunday when we go back to our regularly scheduled Ordinary Form Mass. Next Sunday is tomorrow. We'll see what happens, I'll keep you updated? </span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Second Thing</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Remembrance Day was November 11th. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.legion63.ca/images/poppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.legion63.ca/images/poppy.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I felt it very deeply this year. Not many old-timers left. If my grandfathers were still alive, they would have been part of those "old-timers". One grandfather fueled planes for the <a href="http://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/remembrance/history/historical-sheets/britcom" target="_blank">Air Training Plan</a> here in Canada. The other served overseas and came perilously close to losing his life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That leads me to... </span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Third Thing</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/world/paris-shooting-attacks-explosion-1.3319062" target="_blank">Paris</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The terror attacks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2015/03/what-isis-really-wants/384980/?utm_source=SFFB" target="_blank">ISIS</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/pope-calls-paris-terrorist-attacks-part-of-piecemeal-wiii-39647/" target="_blank">Pope Francis calling this a piecemeal Third World War</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/documents/rc_con_cfaith_doc_20000626_message-fatima_en.html" target="_blank">Fatima</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A lot has happened this week. Considering how peaceful I felt at the beginning, I am disquieted now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Time for another rosary. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.fatima.org/essentials/requests/images/rosary02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.fatima.org/essentials/requests/images/rosary02.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-17934991995096012692015-11-04T15:57:00.001-06:002015-11-04T15:58:27.449-06:00Rituals<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>ritual:</b> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">noun </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">1. an established or prescribed procedure for a religious or oth<span style="color: black;">er rite. </span> </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">2. observance of set forms in public worship.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">
3. any practice or pattern of behavior regularly performed in a set manner. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's become a weekend ritual of sorts. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2013/1/8/1357657575285/Couple-At-Breakfast-Table-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2013/1/8/1357657575285/Couple-At-Breakfast-Table-008.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On Saturday, we buy both the <a href="http://www.winnipegfreepress.com/" target="_blank">Winnipeg Free Press</a> and our local paper, without any hope of reading them that day. But on Sunday... ah, glorious Sunday! </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once our <a href="http://allourneedsarespecial.blogspot.ca/2015/10/trial-by-fire.html" target="_blank">Mass obligations are taken care o</a>f, the children have been fed, and everyone is more or less occupied doing what kids do on a lazy Sunday morning, that's when we pull them out. Armed with a cup of coffee, my husband and I spread out on the kitchen table for an hour or so catching up on the news.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The time is not uninterrupted. There are snotty noses to wipe, diapers that need changing (some more urgent than others), and boo-boos that need kissing during that hour. But in the hectic pace of a household with four busy children, those things are minor. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://bizmology.hoovers.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/keurig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://bizmology.hoovers.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/keurig.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We sit in a comfortable, companionable silence that can only be perfected in years of marriage, each engrossed in our respectful sections. My husband will scour the local paper, reading all the interesting tidbits in a small city where odds are you're going to know someone in the paper today (hopefully for good reasons). He also likes the opinion pieces, and has a few that he reads religiously. I tend to scan the obituaries, hoping there's no one I know in it. I realize that it might be somewhat macabre to be doing this, but it's been a habit of mine for as long as I can remember. Rachael will often come request the colour comic section, to which we will happily oblige. She will sometimes join us at the table, and other times she will spread out on the living room floor, reading <i>Baby Blues</i> to her brother. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We will, on occasion, break our silence by reading an interesting tidbit out loud for the other. I'll start in on the puzzles, only to <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">end up</span> ranting and needing my husband to talk me down from either scrunching up the entire page in frustration or purposely jabbing holes through the newsprint with my pencil and/or eraser. LONGFELLOW is my nemesis. And I apparently have a bit a temper when it comes to doing <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">c</span>ryptoquotes and crosswords. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Lifeandhealth/Our_experts/columnists/2012/7/10/1341916622450/Crossword-blog.-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Lifeandhealth/Our_experts/columnists/2012/7/10/1341916622450/Crossword-blog.-008.jpg" height="120" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is the comfort of r<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">itual. How it marks time,<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> people, places, and presence. Rituals become a sort of placeholder in our busy while munda<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ne lives. </span></span></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://abeerarashid.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/1320716417_how_technology_has_changed_bed_time_stories_gag2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://abeerarashid.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/1320716417_how_technology_has_changed_bed_time_stories_gag2.jpg" width="171" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It was Father Patrick Peyton that said, "The family that prays together, stays together." We are terrible at this. By "we", I mean my household. I think it's symptomatic, in part, of my personal frustration at the Church. We did so for many, many years with the kids, especially in the evening. It was ingrained as part of the bedtime ritual. But we struggle with it now. *I* struggle with it now. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Why does my family's weekend ritual come so easily, yet our prayer-time ritual is so <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">fraught </span>with <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">inner turmoil</span>? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is it I don't believe? For awhile, I started to suspect that was it. But now I doubt that's it, because I recently t<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ook</span> up praying a daily rosary<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.</span> <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">T</span>he veracity of my belief growing out of that simple devotion has increased in a very short time. If there was a glimmer of doubt, I think it has been effectively erased f<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">or the time being. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6a/SilverRosary.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6a/SilverRosary.png" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is it because I don't think I should transfer my beliefs onto my children, such is the popular notion these days that children should "decide for themselves" what they believe? I can say with certainty that it's not that. I firmly believe that as a parent, I have a duty to transfer my beliefs and values to my children. Indeed, the <a href="http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p3s2c2a4.htm" target="_blank">Church teaches</a> that <a href="http://www.therealpresence.org/archives/Family/Family_029.htm" target="_blank">we are the first</a> and <a href="http://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_jp-ii_exh_19811122_familiaris-consortio.html" target="_blank">primary teachers of our children</a>. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is it because of my own inner turmoil about the state of the Church, her direction,<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> and her current rituals<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">?</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now, ladies and gentlem<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">en, I think we're on to something. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">About a year ago<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">, I p<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">rocu<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">red the book <a href="https://www.tanbooks.com/index.php/mass-eucharist/latin-mass-explained-everything-needed-to-understand-and-appreciate-the-traditional-latin-mass.html" target="_blank">"The Latin Mass Explained" by Msgr. George </a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.tanbooks.com/index.php/mass-eucharist/latin-mass-explained-everything-needed-to-understand-and-appreciate-the-traditional-latin-mass.html" target="_blank">Moorman</a>. The book was originally published in 1920 under the tit<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">l<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">e, "The Mass: The <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">E</span>ucharistic Service of the Catholic Church". </span></span></span></span></span></span></span>The blurb at the back of the book prom<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ises that </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.tanbooks.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/270x405/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/8/1880x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://www.tanbooks.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/270x405/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/8/1880x.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></span></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">this easy-to-read book reveals the <i>What</i>, <i>Why </i>and <i>How </i>of the Traditional Latin Mass [...] Many will understand for the very first time the awesome dignity of the Catholic religion and the rich spiritual significance of every element of the Holy Sacrifice of the Altar. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span> </span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I personally feel this was a bit of an und<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">ersta<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">tement. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I managed to get to page 23<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">, then I had to put it down. Why? Because I was angry. <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What he describes is not the same thing that I see every S<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">unday down at my local parish. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We often hear<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">, in Catholic circles, of the idea of "hermeneutic of continuity"<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">. What does that mean exactly? Well, I'm still sort of vague on that, but it's generally accepted as being the idea that the pre-<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Conciliar <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">C</span>hurch and the <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">post-Conciliar <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Church just kinda... flows. </span>That the Church was the same before Vatican II as it was afterwards, in a fundamental sense. The opposite of hermeneutic of continuity is the "hermeneutic of rupture". </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm not sure how anyone can k<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">now anything about the Old rite vs. the <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">N</span>ew rite and say the words "hermeneutic of continuity" with a str<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">aight face. </span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://angeluspress.org/image/solemn_mass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://angeluspress.org/image/solemn_mass.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">or that?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Not only has the rituals of the Church changed in a fundamental way, but the meaning<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> behind those rituals <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">have been</span> stripped out. In only 23 pages, it was very clear to me that the language, the actions, the postures, nearly everything about the New Mass either downplays or ignores what was central in the Old. </span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So my inner conflict. I have no illusions that the Church was perfect prior to the change - it's not like we should go back to some 1950's time warp where everything was warm and rosy and fuzzy and good. But the discordance is staggering. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What do I teach my children? Do I teach them the traditional faith, the faith that has sustained us for nearly 2000 years, with the traditional beliefs and practices, only to have them confused when we go to Church? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">How do I navigate the difference in attitude and ritual? </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the end, I don't have an answer, so I end up doing nothing.<a href="http://allourneedsarespecial.blogspot.ca/2015/08/the-desert.html" target="_blank"> I shut down</a>. I am doing my children a disservice, I know that, but I don't want them to experience the same gut-wretching conflict that I do. Or maybe they should. This is the reality of the faith. Is it any good to shelter them from it?</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Post Script </span></span></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This post has been difficult to write. Confronting my own doubts and questions and putting them out there has required a great deal of self-reflection. Why do I feel like this? Is this a heart issue or a head issue? Am I being too picky? Am I making things unnecessarily difficult? Or should I be a good Catholic and just carry on?</span></span></span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the end, I have no answers. My only solution right now is to fumble through the best I can. </span></span></span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Please pray for us. </span></i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-37153576269146434002015-11-03T15:50:00.000-06:002015-11-03T15:50:07.973-06:00A Post About Nothing<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've been working on another post the past few days, but I'm finding it's been terribly difficult for me to write. The first half of it flowed brilliantly in a short span of time, but I've been struggling writing the second part. I hope to have it completed soon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In the meanwhile, we celebrated Halloween here a few nights ago. The kids went out trick or treating. Christina didn't have a costume because the box I had labelled "Halloween costumes" in fact had car seat parts in it. Drat! Much of what we had stored in the basement is still in a storage locker as we work on renovating, so I had no hope in finding them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The other kids dressed as... </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUREY532YsgR4cV7QxIKPrnHVJ3p9G16W8QYUahVN5EFg5EnDBPGLQ9QHvEUgpbmoZ_LUDMrgpzZvvQyevebzwm26w3hP9WWZnh09zny5sY_1rciX7J_IoJWARRY63mXlAt-X1VKfXnMF/s1600/SAM_1381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUREY532YsgR4cV7QxIKPrnHVJ3p9G16W8QYUahVN5EFg5EnDBPGLQ9QHvEUgpbmoZ_LUDMrgpzZvvQyevebzwm26w3hP9WWZnh09zny5sY_1rciX7J_IoJWARRY63mXlAt-X1VKfXnMF/s320/SAM_1381.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bob the Builder</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_NZa-O1UKudM_GyFYZBR05TpyW0dKRFEE8xxNF-HKVxtSkd1ipcbYylmFtJn7-ww2R41A8bKd1fmf8wy-_jTsabke8vDhbydJVGWbRnSBOePucA8HNiLwndtF6V7D0bUwnWo_jiH7oqe/s1600/SAM_1384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_NZa-O1UKudM_GyFYZBR05TpyW0dKRFEE8xxNF-HKVxtSkd1ipcbYylmFtJn7-ww2R41A8bKd1fmf8wy-_jTsabke8vDhbydJVGWbRnSBOePucA8HNiLwndtF6V7D0bUwnWo_jiH7oqe/s320/SAM_1384.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A fairy princess</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOcPfEUo1uY7kYebf6XhePmZvxSztGuDOwEY-xmtIqdZgKc3ZqGUV06pI-buN3qcBzSjWFUAP6fE9xWc8eOQRV40czYEshLfVl1K2dEJaF5zogAh4oEVtTNb3XD9GT0LT4dkk5AOJgvgd/s1600/SAM_1388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOcPfEUo1uY7kYebf6XhePmZvxSztGuDOwEY-xmtIqdZgKc3ZqGUV06pI-buN3qcBzSjWFUAP6fE9xWc8eOQRV40czYEshLfVl1K2dEJaF5zogAh4oEVtTNb3XD9GT0LT4dkk5AOJgvgd/s320/SAM_1388.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A cowgirl</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was super cold that night, and all the kids had parkas on over their costumes. But they got a good haul, and with the next day being Sunday and All Saints' Day (and with the time change overnight = one extra hour), we were STILL late for 9 a.m. Mass.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">*sigh*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Christina has never been into baby toys. Siblings toys and the contents of our recycling bin have always been much, much more interesting. We recently purged some of the extra medicine droppers we had kicking around, and tossed them into the recycling bin. She helped herself to them, then pulled a mason jar out of the box on the floor (full of empty jars waiting to go downstairs to be put away). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Those few items kept her occupied for hours, hearing the "clink" of the droppers go into the jar, fishing them out of the jar, putting the 2-part droppers together and then taking them apart again. (I eventually had to put the jar away as she was making me nervous possessing a glass container)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis30T-7kYONbxzBmtrKSGG_Hz4sk3NfogUJcbUOIdgoNJy3YREXKVoLlxJIPpJx8wVClI2gEzaG8GzB8lPHOHS9b486eqMelSCtHyPguhP8fZUWwSc079S1Xm09qlKpEYmSceU6RL26Zhr/s1600/SAM_1398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis30T-7kYONbxzBmtrKSGG_Hz4sk3NfogUJcbUOIdgoNJy3YREXKVoLlxJIPpJx8wVClI2gEzaG8GzB8lPHOHS9b486eqMelSCtHyPguhP8fZUWwSc079S1Xm09qlKpEYmSceU6RL26Zhr/s320/SAM_1398.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujCF6R145Ri7XRVQyu_O95QY4jwAQc0jUqlFww78K8wMWQ2NNbDJiLpuQX8P-d16xSY9mywmYFbedNt8KO8SNA-p6DAvGM_TL3xlvUUOd3r35kFBn-B4xcpDBxu3bqli70EaDAEL5X47F/s1600/SAM_1399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujCF6R145Ri7XRVQyu_O95QY4jwAQc0jUqlFww78K8wMWQ2NNbDJiLpuQX8P-d16xSY9mywmYFbedNt8KO8SNA-p6DAvGM_TL3xlvUUOd3r35kFBn-B4xcpDBxu3bqli70EaDAEL5X47F/s320/SAM_1399.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMNfzvQEwmtc4ddVKALydmSNVqiCAmoyOKR0h-99wy6PNB01EEMzNnsKyXyw4tSPLPewqY9klNLR2aNUU94spvwumtDwOUe5Uaxeyl0OvvCtUIJzwkoF1VSbg9XM5aTYBalKmKkt1T6iL/s1600/SAM_1397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWMNfzvQEwmtc4ddVKALydmSNVqiCAmoyOKR0h-99wy6PNB01EEMzNnsKyXyw4tSPLPewqY9klNLR2aNUU94spvwumtDwOUe5Uaxeyl0OvvCtUIJzwkoF1VSbg9XM5aTYBalKmKkt1T6iL/s320/SAM_1397.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Homeschooling is once again going along tickity-boo. We had to pause back in September/October for awhile as we were all sick, especially me. But we're getting back on track, today finishing our map of North America while learning about Our Lady of Guadalupe and Saint Juan Diego. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiktF3ATzphZA-_ZK_pC38RqhJb57ZqfE1aWcnKsVW2_XiocDnf7XZuL2kMSi6QejEnjDqRYLLrPAUbe6IigKekLFXW28q4G8id7yrL2HOsFmxRSU_vHEiqGPV5TwzAxXVPuPsk0JTJGNG2/s1600/SAM_1409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiktF3ATzphZA-_ZK_pC38RqhJb57ZqfE1aWcnKsVW2_XiocDnf7XZuL2kMSi6QejEnjDqRYLLrPAUbe6IigKekLFXW28q4G8id7yrL2HOsFmxRSU_vHEiqGPV5TwzAxXVPuPsk0JTJGNG2/s320/SAM_1409.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDA26uyy-qOgUqg3Zu3iHyXxHUsh5cGwzKxhrern1P29Z9c59H3iA53q2ijCNuVdbB0od19uy1NCunSe_bB2qf6qJcb2_R9nAL-2NUxQIMGwVM_2l4Ko1NnUjfWVGflO4VMJpk8ed320u/s1600/SAM_1410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDA26uyy-qOgUqg3Zu3iHyXxHUsh5cGwzKxhrern1P29Z9c59H3iA53q2ijCNuVdbB0od19uy1NCunSe_bB2qf6qJcb2_R9nAL-2NUxQIMGwVM_2l4Ko1NnUjfWVGflO4VMJpk8ed320u/s320/SAM_1410.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Meanwhile, Joseph worked with Play-doh, in his re-creation of a Play-doh house he saw on YouTube the other day. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibw6KzDxF2MHfP5SisCAaqeS5Ak8C5iQWyGMEwMSCcfehVx-iBx0PG95onByioHOYebmegUgft8N_9b-KY_0grRjX7uhWACBDG-o7KA55B_xalIXYTmHreOrHJ9Uer3l1qsql2DuFCEJX/s1600/SAM_1401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibw6KzDxF2MHfP5SisCAaqeS5Ak8C5iQWyGMEwMSCcfehVx-iBx0PG95onByioHOYebmegUgft8N_9b-KY_0grRjX7uhWACBDG-o7KA55B_xalIXYTmHreOrHJ9Uer3l1qsql2DuFCEJX/s320/SAM_1401.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Joseph took this photo himself</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-785788020816135202015-10-28T22:18:00.000-05:002015-10-28T22:18:46.621-05:00Nest Eggs and Crystal Balls<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am acutely aware of my age.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">At 38, most of my friends and family are long "done" having babies. There are a few exceptions, but by and large that is the reality. At some point, say 15 or 20 years down the road, they will have an empty nest.</span><br />
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<a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2014/10/3/1412349479035/empty-birds-nest-014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2014/10/3/1412349479035/empty-birds-nest-014.jpg" height="120" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don't know if we'll ever have an empty nest. As our children grow, I am seeing the disparity between what they can do and what Abby can do. When the big girls were both small, the difference didn't seem like a big deal - they both required tremendous amounts of intensive, in-the-trenches care. But things have changed. Rachael, at 7, is quickly maturing into a young lady. She is able to do so many things independently now it sometimes surprises me. Joseph, at four and a half, is also quickly growing up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Bedtime is a good example. I can tell Rachael and Joseph to get ready for bed. They will, with no or minimal assistance from me, use the toilet, wash up, brush their teeth and put on pj's. I just need to read them a story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Abby, at age 9, needs a similar amount of help as baby Christina. I must help her brush her teeth, wash up or have a shower, change into her pj's, brush her hair, etc. The only step she does independently is use the toilet.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, independence takes her a long, long time. But chances are, even as an adult, she will require a level of assistance. She will always need a caregiver to help her with basics like hygiene and dressing, administering medications, preparing food, you name it.</span><br />
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<a href="http://a.dilcdn.com/bl/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2013/02/ados.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://a.dilcdn.com/bl/wp-content/uploads/sites/8/2013/02/ados.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> So where does that leave us? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We will likely keep her at home as long as we can. Probably age 30, but maybe longer. Even if and once we are able to transition her to an assisted living situation, we will likely still participate in her care as much as we can. We're probably looking at having her at home until my husband and I are into our 60s or 70s. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I worry about her future. We save, financially, taking advantage of programs like the RDSP making a little nest egg for her, and we have provisions in our wills for her perpetual care. I still lie in bed awake at night, worrying if it will be enough. Worrying if something happens to us too soon, what would happen to her. I have those same worries for our other kids, but they are particularly intense when it concerns Abby.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sometimes I think I would cash in all the nest eggs in the world if only I could have a crystal ball. </span><br />
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<a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2011/12/8/1323361685099/Hands-around-a-crystal-ba-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2011/12/8/1323361685099/Hands-around-a-crystal-ba-007.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-75745712887556764312015-10-22T00:23:00.000-05:002015-10-22T00:23:31.049-05:00The Chair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvbsgxxWtCQS2AmAdcVueRgmRMxkQg-xdb_NebOQJ2iWqwRm7vro246rMWEMXNoL-sSb0aQQt6D97n4T23M9aZdnJFcKLIdi0tJWolJXTsMyL1d26J1wKWPpfNdFqYztMIGzW6HP3btW7/s1600/SAM_1369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvbsgxxWtCQS2AmAdcVueRgmRMxkQg-xdb_NebOQJ2iWqwRm7vro246rMWEMXNoL-sSb0aQQt6D97n4T23M9aZdnJFcKLIdi0tJWolJXTsMyL1d26J1wKWPpfNdFqYztMIGzW6HP3btW7/s320/SAM_1369.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The chair started it's life as my grandfather's. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don't recall exactly when my grandfather procured the chair, although it was
undoubtedly after my grandmother passed away. I don't remember it being
in the apartment they shared at the end of her life. I do remember it being in that last apartment my
grandfather lived in before he died, and how he would sit there to watch
TV or listen to his big-band music while rocking. </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDypJF7tdWqDK_R9QBiRGK3d-eblMUOKHr-3cZOdhYOlr6IOimTAWwpktbxPQ7_iaf1kobJaBNTUzPW5zPhKcJ_D95CFU0kyRldMHoG2xth7RUGtwKfx9oEI3cLMcuwdB-Rxkewmh30M7s/s1600/IMGP2481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDypJF7tdWqDK_R9QBiRGK3d-eblMUOKHr-3cZOdhYOlr6IOimTAWwpktbxPQ7_iaf1kobJaBNTUzPW5zPhKcJ_D95CFU0kyRldMHoG2xth7RUGtwKfx9oEI3cLMcuwdB-Rxkewmh30M7s/s200/IMGP2481.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">14-month old Abby with duck lips. </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://allourneedsarespecial.blogspot.ca/2011/02/lucy.html" target="_blank">After he died</a>, the chair came home with my parents. It lived in the rec
room in the basement for a time, until it migrated upstairs. They put it in
the small bedroom that was mine as a child - a room that eventually
contained a crib for Abby to use when we were in Winnipeg, which was a considerable amount of time during the first two years of her life. Abby and I put lots of miles on the chair while it was at my parents,
rocking, nursing, cuddling and reading. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The chair found it's way to my house earlier this year. My brother had actually called me up months before, offering it to me as he was cleaning out his spare bedroom/office in preparation of his son's arrival.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I wanted the chair! I had occasionally wondered what had happened to it, as it disappeared from my parent's house several years earlier when they got new furniture. I didn't realize it had been adopted by my brother, and had been living there. Alas, I had to say no, as there was no room at this inn. </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LOg2i2bjBhC7L7mxsaGeXYADXODpJfEHcR9p_fPeVw3TQUPJU1ooG2Gk_GsX6FiH0koX_o5wZb8RLPghv1ltqlSgm8tAEukII5bxQXDJj3HoG-RvvibqBKJyIe1ba9aTf4Aov-4AaR9v/s1600/SAM_1354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-LOg2i2bjBhC7L7mxsaGeXYADXODpJfEHcR9p_fPeVw3TQUPJU1ooG2Gk_GsX6FiH0koX_o5wZb8RLPghv1ltqlSgm8tAEukII5bxQXDJj3HoG-RvvibqBKJyIe1ba9aTf4Aov-4AaR9v/s200/SAM_1354.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Christina sleeping. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A few months pass, and my husband and I were contemplating what to do with the sleeping arrangements. Christina sleeps (theoretically) in a crib in our room, as the other bedrooms are occupied with other kids. We'll eventually have more bedrooms in the basement, but we're not yet done the never-ending renovation. The problem was, Christina was (and is) still waking up to nurse, and I have no where to sit. It's tough to sit on the end of the bed and nurse when you're half asleep, so I would tuck in her bed with us and nurse. Naturally, we'd both be sound sleep about 30 seconds into this procedure, and in our bed she's stay the rest of the night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Co-sleeping works for us when they're very young, but there is a point where we just want our own space. Usually that occurs somewhere around 6 to 12 months, when they become too restless and we get tired of sleeping with little knees and elbows in our backs. We were at that point with Christina, where I needed her to sleep in her own space. With both Rachael and Joseph, we solved this by putting a double mattress on the floor of their bedroom where they could sleep. I could nurse them to sleep cuddled up in bed, and then tiptoe back to my bed once they were asleep. It was only inches to fall if they managed to roll themselves out of bed, which was rare. It worked brilliantly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Except, there was no room at the inn for such a plan this go round. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What to do? We discussed getting a king-sized bed, but that was frought with financial considerations. Plus, then we'd have this ginormous bed, to resolve a relatively short-lived problem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What I needed, I thought to myself, was a chair to fit in the alcove of the bay window in our bedroom. Then, it struck me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I needed <i>the chair</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was perfect. Compact, with a small footprint, it was comfy and it rocked. It was brown, so it even fit our blue-and-brown quasi-decor. But the question was, what happened to it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Turns out my brother couldn't part with it. He had it stored in his basement. He was very glad to send it with my father in law next time he was out this way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love the chair. It sits in my bay window, facing east, where the sunlight streams in the morning. A love to sit and read there, with my coffee cup precariously balanced on the window ledge. The kids come and sit on the chair and keep me company while I fold laundry on my bed. Christina curls up in the chair with either me or Daddy to read "Llama Llama Nighty-Night". I sit there and nurse the baby in the evening while my husband gathers his clothes for the next morning, and we chat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The chair is a connection to my grandfather. It's beginning to show it's age, the arms getting threadbare in spots, and it squeaks like crazy unless you rock <i>just so</i>. But it's the most comfortable chair in the house. It's like a big, warm hug from Grandpa. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love the chair. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglU2E5HJjnk0nx0laJWLFQL9ynDYiWmOai-bc4l9PbthfQD9g8q3WEqaAFU4vkTd873Q1ViraysCUwsRWRS2aV4R5NmNxImCYkvhWzrro6xyqfodbUQr5ZMkjyRPKunS8TOreoIjHVAt9e/s1600/SAM_1365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglU2E5HJjnk0nx0laJWLFQL9ynDYiWmOai-bc4l9PbthfQD9g8q3WEqaAFU4vkTd873Q1ViraysCUwsRWRS2aV4R5NmNxImCYkvhWzrro6xyqfodbUQr5ZMkjyRPKunS8TOreoIjHVAt9e/s320/SAM_1365.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So do I. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-63044558799314288652015-10-17T21:20:00.001-05:002015-10-17T21:20:32.010-05:00"Before I Begin..." <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzd5EJb0Mm2mp5NLgzezBgLoGG8jiNnhaEVQeUvNcsXNCaRBqAiB6oTdod2huiYo9NDQwsvboe1nfaDETVJO3d3NuylTOQNVMWe-fJYND4ZzcDUe-U358hh8EjE5qP0NUN_lLcOTs6hyphenhypheneg/s1600/ID-10045442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzd5EJb0Mm2mp5NLgzezBgLoGG8jiNnhaEVQeUvNcsXNCaRBqAiB6oTdod2huiYo9NDQwsvboe1nfaDETVJO3d3NuylTOQNVMWe-fJYND4ZzcDUe-U358hh8EjE5qP0NUN_lLcOTs6hyphenhypheneg/s200/ID-10045442.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Image by taoty at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I often listen to CBC Radio. I like CBC. It makes me feel grown up, for one. It's mature conversation, on the most part, and there's no teenie-bopper music on it. I mostly listen to Radio One, which is the talk side (vs. Radio Two, which is mostly music). There's no ads on Radio One, except at election time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Which would be right now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">They are mandated to provide air time to all political parties at designated times of day. I find them fascinating. I like Elizabeth May of the Green Party. I can't stand any of the mainstream parties (the Blue Ones, the Red Ones and the Orange Ones). The Communist Party's ad sounds like it's right out of Soviet Russia and would be downright hilarious if it wasn't for the fact that they were so gosh darn sincere. And honestly, if the Pirate Party was running a candidate in my riding, I would actually consider voting for them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But I digress. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZ-i8DobXFcJpcH0YYtkSUdBFZ2t29y_80xcF3ndTKEnNn0ye2x1kL3TWF8QwzfaHk-3w3J-AedYsfxc4OKjzR85Scsj4HjbPN8DmI0kABWjMr2pjmTK36Z_UuIxPFhhn4D66EwuIUr5B/s1600/ID-10014690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZ-i8DobXFcJpcH0YYtkSUdBFZ2t29y_80xcF3ndTKEnNn0ye2x1kL3TWF8QwzfaHk-3w3J-AedYsfxc4OKjzR85Scsj4HjbPN8DmI0kABWjMr2pjmTK36Z_UuIxPFhhn4D66EwuIUr5B/s200/ID-10014690.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyone for a ride on a pirateship?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Image by Carlos Porto at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was listening to their tech show, Spark, one afternoon this week while cleaning up after lunch. I only caught the last few minutes of the last article of the show. They were talking about creativity, and I think specifically the guest was talking about the process of writing a novel for some odd reason. There was something he said, however, that really struck me. In fact, it struck me so much I had to get a pencil and paper and jot it down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He said, "The three most destructive words in the English language are, 'Before I begin... ' ". </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlY_pYj3kygu6Dfj8nDu1fHqffiv6-V38UnejpSCSZWZoqCAc3fnMD9VX3hGGtIQuk9k0nYdi9A1Y_BojDLYOVjMAftngTt76-AR9YdScCr8ArLM3eZuQ4u5RN1PVL_9RqT160n0fQOZuA/s1600/ID-10043829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlY_pYj3kygu6Dfj8nDu1fHqffiv6-V38UnejpSCSZWZoqCAc3fnMD9VX3hGGtIQuk9k0nYdi9A1Y_BojDLYOVjMAftngTt76-AR9YdScCr8ArLM3eZuQ4u5RN1PVL_9RqT160n0fQOZuA/s200/ID-10043829.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Image by digitalart at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I think what he meant was that the creativity process is often killed before it even gets off the ground because we want to accomplish certain things before starting into that novel we've always wanted to write. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was more than that. How many things in our life do we not do because we're waiting for something?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We don't start our "ideal careers" until we're done school.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We don't get married until we've established our careers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We don't have kids until we can afford them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But with what result? We "do" school only to discover maybe that wasn't the career that we wanted, or we're so saddled with debt we're virtually paralyzed anyway. We marry later and later, get divorced more and more, and leave having our kids so late that we have trouble getting pregnant, or we're old when we have them and can barely keep up. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdSEnOwuiGpNGJmdAfKL7ndFmuyhQhUgy4OaHq1INpudHFlb2zQkcBQU9NSr99aMVjbpnzDkbu2zWbVg_WQtDMZ9Y9C31xyR8JrnxMpXgjbuxBenPUwVZrXNRKhgdy15h945PvoqdQehX/s1600/ID-100290063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdSEnOwuiGpNGJmdAfKL7ndFmuyhQhUgy4OaHq1INpudHFlb2zQkcBQU9NSr99aMVjbpnzDkbu2zWbVg_WQtDMZ9Y9C31xyR8JrnxMpXgjbuxBenPUwVZrXNRKhgdy15h945PvoqdQehX/s200/ID-100290063.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Image by Witthaya Phonsawat at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But there's a flip side to that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We are unwilling to wait for things. We want to wait until things are ideal before getting married, but want a domestic partner right now, so we live together instead. We want to buy a house, but bemoan the fact that we can't afford an all-done house instead of buying that beater of a house and putting in the sweat equity. We need to have the latest TV's and iWhatevers, and then bemoan the fact that we never have time for the things that are "important" to us. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOpDjnaEs4szzNjGw19AHkb3Q6J0sodL96bW7YV6RWsXZwtz1wK5uz4ItE67VC1nkAvhLDUIt5g9l4ol5x3Oz00yYfuHmfzGhU4S4jvgnHBPcRhp0PPQE7pnAasteSWI-ynFDok_M9R3w/s1600/ID-10081453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOpDjnaEs4szzNjGw19AHkb3Q6J0sodL96bW7YV6RWsXZwtz1wK5uz4ItE67VC1nkAvhLDUIt5g9l4ol5x3Oz00yYfuHmfzGhU4S4jvgnHBPcRhp0PPQE7pnAasteSWI-ynFDok_M9R3w/s200/ID-10081453.jpg" width="163" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Image by stockimages at FreeDigitalPhotos.ne</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But it still becomes, "Before I Begin...", doesn't it? We feel the need to take these steps prior to, or even in lieu of, making these big commitments. Maybe it's a symptom of our inability to wait for delayed gratification? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We can't begin while we're busy amassing the "right nows". Amassing education that we may or may not use, collecting domestic and sexual partners that suits us for the moment instead of waiting for the one we're going to commit to permanently, reaping electronics like they grow on trees. We can't wait for any of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And as a result, so many of us fail to begin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But it's not only the big things this failure affects. It's the little moments too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I was ruminating this blog post earlier this afternoon when Joseph came up to me and said, "Mommy, let's play a game."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What was my answer? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Just let me do the dishes first."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It wasn't until he walked away that I realized what just happened. And I wonder how much of the little things in life I miss out on, or how the relationships around me are impacted, all because of "Before I begin..."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVx0Z1cNGPdQMTRFWarnV3eDMUA_l_8TIi85e4D0ymosC6OXfPNobQ_N2cD8i2PlkQK8Hse2UkG1Ve0eN-rPKtG2IGxm5PoPbsH4Oyd4OOMoIZefMXVPCw8oWbikCRdFWMFn1mF97LnKj/s1600/ID-100220347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVx0Z1cNGPdQMTRFWarnV3eDMUA_l_8TIi85e4D0ymosC6OXfPNobQ_N2cD8i2PlkQK8Hse2UkG1Ve0eN-rPKtG2IGxm5PoPbsH4Oyd4OOMoIZefMXVPCw8oWbikCRdFWMFn1mF97LnKj/s320/ID-100220347.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Image by franky242 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-76753224736653436882015-10-04T23:37:00.001-05:002015-10-04T23:39:41.228-05:00Trial by Fire<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We were late. Again. </span><br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSLM-6jscaANZeWxAucViyPaom52KGwROZCOWESUfsB_DWP_0Ek" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSLM-6jscaANZeWxAucViyPaom52KGwROZCOWESUfsB_DWP_0Ek" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have a love/hate thing with 9 a.m. Mass. On one hand, it's early and we're home by 10:30 and have the rest of the day gloriously stretched out in front of us, to fill at our leisure (I don't remember the last time we had a leisurely Sunday, but you get the idea). It's to-the-point, and less prone to funny stuff you can encounter at more popular Masses. It's before baby's nap, so less cranky there. The kids are relatively well-behaved because they haven't quite woken up yet, haven't gotten engrossed in other projects, haven't had a chance to turn on Netflix yet... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But dude, it's 9 a.m. Which means we need to get everyone up, dressed, and out the door by 8:45. Easy for those of you who shuffle your gang off to school that time every day, which I don't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And it was soooo not happening today. </span><br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSc5B1CL1d-yIuXFGoBJNxhCxL7S83i12onvJlNbNtAXvpB94JT" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSc5B1CL1d-yIuXFGoBJNxhCxL7S83i12onvJlNbNtAXvpB94JT" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As we pulled <i>out</i> of the driveway at 9:02, we did manage to make it just as they were intoning the Psalm. Which I have to say, is pretty good. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Speed limits are only suggestions on Sunday mornings anyways, right? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So why did I publically admit we were atrociously late for church while probably bending the speed limit this morning? Because we had to sit at the back. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is will make sense in a moment, I promise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">According to the Novus Ordo calendar, today's Gospel was from the book of St. Mark. I'm sure you're very familiar with the passage:</span><br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.' [...] Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I don't touch on marriage very often in this blog. My husband and I are about to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary at the end of the month, something which seems to be rarer and rarer these days. I'm so thankful for every day that he's in my life, as I literally can't imagine it without him. My only regret was that we had such a late start together.</span><br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRfroFgkSNdmFMr-etYFP7NBW3d8DlW6dVKA6dG27Hgs6n9SZXHuw" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRfroFgkSNdmFMr-etYFP7NBW3d8DlW6dVKA6dG27Hgs6n9SZXHuw" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Even though we weren't that young when we got married, we did a lot of growing up in those first few years. Most people do, I assume. Having your first child, that accelerates the growing-up for most of us. There's nothing like being responsible for a tiny, helpless little person that simultaneously enthralls you and scares the living daylights out of you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Okay, so back to church. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Theologian Scott Hahn famously said, </span><br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> [...]in the marital covenant the two become one, and God has designed it so that
when the two become one, they become so one that nine months later you might just
have to give it a name. </span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSlcyAdsldfZsjLmuj_MAgVyuLcAf3D41mEY7GopSZ-b9zBXjxM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSlcyAdsldfZsjLmuj_MAgVyuLcAf3D41mEY7GopSZ-b9zBXjxM" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We were at the back of the church with our brood of covenantal manifestations, trying desperately to keep them relatively quiet. I think they were thrown a bit by our uncustomary degree of lateness (usually we're there by the Gloria at the latest) and the sitting at the back thing (we're usually at the front). The baby was determined to walk up and down the aisles. Abby kept repeating, "Hi! How are you!" to everyone around us, not always with her "indoor voice". Joseph was being Joseph, squirmy and <strike>incessantly whining</strike> telling us he couldn't see. Rachael was in the corner of the pew, having a mad-on about some infraction committed by her brother. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I think with that description, we've established neither my husband or I were paying that much attention to Mass. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But we both tuned in to the homily at the same moment. Father quoted a theologian (that I wish desperately I caught the name of!) that said that the best marriages have a little bit of trial in them. That a little bit of difficulty was a good thing to make them stronger. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I remember my mom asked me once, a few years ago when several marriages of family members were in the process of imploding, what made our marriage different. At the time, I gave her a glib answer about how were were both too cheap to pay for two houses to live in. But in truth, it's because of the trial. It literally is a case of what didn't kill us made us stronger. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you grow up exponentially once you have a child, sometimes I think you grow up exponentially of an exponent when you have a special-needs child. And it literally either breaks you or cements you permanently. I was so mad at God during the long, dark days, and felt like I was abandoned ("My God, my God, why have you forsaken me!"), but every morning, my husband was there. When one of us couldn't handle it anymore, the other took over. When I cried myself to sleep at night, his arms were around me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Abby is a life created out of our covenant with each other. Our responsibility not only to her, but to each other fundamentally changed our disposition. The trials we endured, especially at the beginning, set the tone for our lives together. This too shall pass. We shall not break. We will get through this, just as we always have. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is always a solution, imperfect as it might end up being. So help us, God. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-15660270349460211982015-10-01T08:14:00.002-05:002015-10-01T08:14:42.814-05:00Diagnosis<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I watched this TED talk last night. It explains, clearly, what the change is diagnostic criteria did for Autism rates, and infers how that's actually a *good* thing. It was amazing and eye opening. You should watch it.</span><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="no" src="https://embed-ssl.ted.com/talks/steve_silberman_the_forgotten_history_of_autism.html" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-13678851147194705992015-09-30T22:13:00.001-05:002015-09-30T22:13:50.482-05:00Absence<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Abby's epilepsy has been relatively stable for a number of years. The last time the apple cart was upset in a major way was about a year and a half ago, when the switched generics on us for one of the anti-seizure meds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In that particular case, the new generic was absorbed at almost double the rate of the old generic, making her trough level skyrocket to over 60. It should be below 30. She had numerous seizures as a result, as well as a resurgence of migraines and facial tics, both of which hadn't bothered her in well over a year at that point. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Since then, we seem to have settled into a relatively livable pattern of one complex-partial seizure about every three months. And actually, she hadn't had a seizure at all, as far as we know (always tricky to know what's going on when communication is such an issue) in about six months. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today, the phone rang. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.oocities.org/heartland/valley/2222/Phone_ringing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.oocities.org/heartland/valley/2222/Phone_ringing.gif" /></a> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I always loathe when my phone rings, and I see on my call display "School Division". Something is usually wrong, although there are always exceptions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today wasn't the exception. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The teacher explained to me that Abby had an absence seizure. We haven't had an absence seizure in a looooong time... probably since she was about 16 or 17 months old and started transitioning from the infantile spasms to the complex partials. I asked some questions, and from what I could remember is sure sounded like an absence seizure, albeit a long one at 45 seconds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.geneq.com/image/data/products/stopwatch_200.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.geneq.com/image/data/products/stopwatch_200.png" height="200" width="154" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Second-guessing myself, I check <a href="http://epilepsy.com/">epilepsy.com </a> just to make sure I was remembering the ins-and-outs of seizure types correctly. Then I called the school back and asked a bunch more questions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Was she responsive? No</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Did she chew, which she typically did for complex partials? No</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Did she come out of it gradually or abruptly? Abruptly</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Did she seem aware of what just happened? No</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Walked like a duck, talked like a duck.... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSiJvIGrKZuU7dTrAbTsdxOzqtgSpUI3t-oPlxmOl0N4lOo_ohl" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSiJvIGrKZuU7dTrAbTsdxOzqtgSpUI3t-oPlxmOl0N4lOo_ohl" width="200" /></a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> I didn't know what it meant. Do seizure types change? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The answer.... dah dah dah dah!... is YES!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I called Dr. E. I love that man. I'll be lost when he retires in the next couple of years. Anyway, he explained that it's very common that as these kids approach puberty that the changing hormones can dramatically alter both seizure patterns and types. It can be rough. His advice was just to wait, watch and keep track of things. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> See, now here I've been worried about the puberty and Autism thing. You know, teaching her to wear a bra, menstruation, the mood swings, all that fun stuff. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">That, somehow, suddenly seems simply compared to the prospect of managing an ever-changing epilepsy through the teen years. </span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-78393960443785830332015-09-29T22:17:00.002-05:002015-09-29T22:18:26.126-05:00One!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm a few days late on this post, but I don't think anyone minds. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Baby turned one! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVVqEVFJq2TkjTgTk3dLC4L6rgONKgzEs7P0NkwxKqAf7Ygg3ex7Bzw6oZYP2GBnXWpYwQ_6HDdvrEvz_9K3kEsj_cs0GD88ibhb6YyCZFpRInSmUU-9etQ275hFhkPSAymLooX02gQPk/s1600/SAM_1050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVVqEVFJq2TkjTgTk3dLC4L6rgONKgzEs7P0NkwxKqAf7Ygg3ex7Bzw6oZYP2GBnXWpYwQ_6HDdvrEvz_9K3kEsj_cs0GD88ibhb6YyCZFpRInSmUU-9etQ275hFhkPSAymLooX02gQPk/s320/SAM_1050.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oops. Forgot my pants!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't think I've formally introduced her. Baby Christina was born last September and just turned one! She's quite the little peanut, and has been walking for nearly 5 weeks already, months earlier than anyone else. (She's got to keep up to everyone, 'ya know!). </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's been a lovely fall so far here. I turned the A/C on this past Saturday (it was nearly 30 degrees!) but it was... chilly... this morning. First frost. Alas, I refuse to turn on the heat in September, and we buckled down and put on sweaters. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We live on a lovely cul-de-sac - it's </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">idyllic really, and perfect for our family - and while the leaves are turning the flowers are still looking lovely.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGrL5Hzib0gF0wzyeJFC_GDUU572Ou1BTER9eeiJDBOtOXdRVUDbHiu_Dz8KizcWxEfpHoxGljAevaP2fLWO6Fc5ofzh8soBODUgJlAwhJq-ZPho9gu4WRMETu5OcFfQdn0WqIyNmRBTx/s1600/SAM_1060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGrL5Hzib0gF0wzyeJFC_GDUU572Ou1BTER9eeiJDBOtOXdRVUDbHiu_Dz8KizcWxEfpHoxGljAevaP2fLWO6Fc5ofzh8soBODUgJlAwhJq-ZPho9gu4WRMETu5OcFfQdn0WqIyNmRBTx/s320/SAM_1060.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The tree in the circle. In case you were wondering,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">it's our meeting place for our fire escape plan. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKm_1PSaepv9nluhm66hwH9VvneGcb-_r0gXTtZCgds49NWdZCNl2xC_17fE0J9NcWprSULSZetO_U7_203sl621Vsv5eEkJFOHTAZtAAJcCWY7zGLhch9kd5sc9SKmw5Tjfd7jANVD6Zc/s1600/SAM_1062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKm_1PSaepv9nluhm66hwH9VvneGcb-_r0gXTtZCgds49NWdZCNl2xC_17fE0J9NcWprSULSZetO_U7_203sl621Vsv5eEkJFOHTAZtAAJcCWY7zGLhch9kd5sc9SKmw5Tjfd7jANVD6Zc/s320/SAM_1062.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Aren't they still lovely so late in the year? And no rabbits jumped out </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and scared me, unlike last time I tried to take a picture of them. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were scheduled to take a nature walk today to record more of the changing season in our journals, but plans got </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">kiboshed by erratic napping schedules. However, a frog trapped in the window well provided ample fodder for the journals in the end. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLehEqY_4_3BKZBH-xv0miIqlW_g9fD253teun2aFRfiVCrdWJDIsB-y3V6DJse09N8EY7CwGptLxTaVpB567uxsZz99SW7OHgrzTjamlLwX9zUshV5hfAf3dX1Wm9k0QjSXDHMFFMw0b/s1600/SAM_1041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLehEqY_4_3BKZBH-xv0miIqlW_g9fD253teun2aFRfiVCrdWJDIsB-y3V6DJse09N8EY7CwGptLxTaVpB567uxsZz99SW7OHgrzTjamlLwX9zUshV5hfAf3dX1Wm9k0QjSXDHMFFMw0b/s320/SAM_1041.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Getting down the business. Ignore the dumpster.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We're renovating.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9-XS60k-6mgzXmB68D8PrvmV7seYNnGe9-uO3LZfq8MgvXY5u2NwsiqwiV8bK3IgBj_7fSbLhyuTzArhvGST7ueAlAWntpfO21aPJpE8ALQs7fv_s20PYE_egQjYON4ptRQ8YhtmFF28/s1600/SAM_1042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ9-XS60k-6mgzXmB68D8PrvmV7seYNnGe9-uO3LZfq8MgvXY5u2NwsiqwiV8bK3IgBj_7fSbLhyuTzArhvGST7ueAlAWntpfO21aPJpE8ALQs7fv_s20PYE_egQjYON4ptRQ8YhtmFF28/s320/SAM_1042.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The frog. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKiTwk5wRcuIFHcleSwiBCGlLYCqrHyzfULT9wV97TZm5K1RYJH6-axwCIx4b5d8LGhSfIrvqHznskF4f5LoPucoPltEoUnDZE4WK497cCgi3HpqYu1-exelqlT7RH0Jg7sUrsuKXPAsb3/s1600/SAM_1043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKiTwk5wRcuIFHcleSwiBCGlLYCqrHyzfULT9wV97TZm5K1RYJH6-axwCIx4b5d8LGhSfIrvqHznskF4f5LoPucoPltEoUnDZE4WK497cCgi3HpqYu1-exelqlT7RH0Jg7sUrsuKXPAsb3/s320/SAM_1043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hard at work. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKlYm4qumOOjEvvPdpjVyQZgFRU7mJv-mBQ1FGv6YivQkpfGu77B2z3SOo73acOtVPQW8gCPYaWydxgFrMwIvS4hv-WDOYLvme1mXktn87inhP5btJ3mdJSFoagrGOI4nP0mESl9Vtu82/s1600/SAM_1044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKlYm4qumOOjEvvPdpjVyQZgFRU7mJv-mBQ1FGv6YivQkpfGu77B2z3SOo73acOtVPQW8gCPYaWydxgFrMwIvS4hv-WDOYLvme1mXktn87inhP5btJ3mdJSFoagrGOI4nP0mESl9Vtu82/s320/SAM_1044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Drawing. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm pleased to report that the frog was subsequently caught (along with a companion - we never realized there was a second frog until Daddy came home and captured them for us) and released into the back yard in a more suitable habitat. After my husband brought the darn things in the house to show me. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://twoggle.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Screaming-Frog-300x200.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://twoggle.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/Screaming-Frog-300x200.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why are there frogs in the kitchen?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">*Sigh* </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Men. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Abby has settled into school finally. It was a bit rough the first few weeks, as she has new EA's this year. Her OCD has been very bad, even with bumping up her medication that helps with that. And before you ask, yes the medication is helping because we tried taking her off of it after Christmas last year, thinking it wasn't helping. The result was not pretty.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSChJuxWra88Nbz3xa0OBwFPNEThzt-1cG6KMtTI3lpdbAm_vpiAYYQ_6AGZh0zznQ9Gd1Py4WS-JwkmPlkQgvjUa8a0qDRKL2EFKQP4BYDL3vfVFYFfymkWX_rcKrKz7Y2FbEu4EkisYx/s1600/SAM_1035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSChJuxWra88Nbz3xa0OBwFPNEThzt-1cG6KMtTI3lpdbAm_vpiAYYQ_6AGZh0zznQ9Gd1Py4WS-JwkmPlkQgvjUa8a0qDRKL2EFKQP4BYDL3vfVFYFfymkWX_rcKrKz7Y2FbEu4EkisYx/s320/SAM_1035.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Despite all she's been through, she still always smiles for the camera!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She loves to swim. The deep pressure of the water helps with her sensory needs. Right now, we have her in a one-on-one swim class for special needs kids at our local Y, plus she swims two afternoons a week at school. We also go to the Y for public swimming whenever our schedule allows us. Our Y membership has been a great asset, not only with Abby but all the kids. In the long, dark and cold days of a prairie winter, it's good to have someplace to go that doesn't involve snowsuits! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-67544947206903288482015-09-06T00:00:00.001-05:002015-09-06T00:01:53.625-05:00School<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I think this is officially my first homeschooling post. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAKEKIFp8y7xcRM9RD9xbFosijjvpVhLIQGnMJytpHfXINN-2h8_Bcd007rWJXLzEXS9erFeub053JYIwykzNpe2XGKGBG0hdU7zEXoX_DSA8LJsK9pmuU6ln4VLra-_4ILILFRArtlu2/s1600/SAM_0971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAKEKIFp8y7xcRM9RD9xbFosijjvpVhLIQGnMJytpHfXINN-2h8_Bcd007rWJXLzEXS9erFeub053JYIwykzNpe2XGKGBG0hdU7zEXoX_DSA8LJsK9pmuU6ln4VLra-_4ILILFRArtlu2/s320/SAM_0971.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Homeschooling is something that has long interested me. I read back on old posts </span><a href="http://allourneedsarespecial.blogspot.ca/2010/08/aba-saga.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">like this one</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, and I can see how my thinking has evolved since then, especially on the topic of socialization. Alas, that's another post. I still wish I could keep Abby home with us, and teach her myself. However, her challenges are great and I need the school resources to address them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I met my first homeschooler, the big girls were very young. Rachael was maybe a few months old at the time. I was intrigued, but it wasn't something I had seriously considered up to that point. I filed it away in the back of my mind, never really thinking that I would pursue it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But then something magical happened. Abby started kindergarten. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv05Duu9p-Z33vdzeotOVP2-7zzaRWUH5OfoydEG6MfUBUrr0GfOJjU4Z0q0bY-UgdayJ4vBkPn2QNevEL-2wZRY1QiWNBpC4_4x6TCc522ORTs7s2Tq69ByESIeqYwCliO1RYY4gKc1WH/s1600/IMGP5840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv05Duu9p-Z33vdzeotOVP2-7zzaRWUH5OfoydEG6MfUBUrr0GfOJjU4Z0q0bY-UgdayJ4vBkPn2QNevEL-2wZRY1QiWNBpC4_4x6TCc522ORTs7s2Tq69ByESIeqYwCliO1RYY4gKc1WH/s320/IMGP5840.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTbJwZKO6kSdnt8LMZPoLDpQ0E8bQOGSqTW-UT9utDYt2Gsb3TP-U0iTC-CCgU_EpgtS6rgoXpMRk-xUchc2Vif6j0-wFVNjZlbeJaM6mERM3AHOUunRdjDoZAm17LE1Bpo-qyy-Q8we_/s1600/IMGP5838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTbJwZKO6kSdnt8LMZPoLDpQ0E8bQOGSqTW-UT9utDYt2Gsb3TP-U0iTC-CCgU_EpgtS6rgoXpMRk-xUchc2Vif6j0-wFVNjZlbeJaM6mERM3AHOUunRdjDoZAm17LE1Bpo-qyy-Q8we_/s320/IMGP5838.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Abby's first day of kindergarten</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I seems like an almost terrible thing to say, but our family is almost... normal... when she's away at school. Suddenly, once she started all-day-every-day kindergarten, possibilities started opening up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Homeschooling my other children suddenly became an option. And I suddenly found I wanted those precious hours of normalcy with my other children when Abby was away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wanted them home. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtxCASXerIQVpKRYGEB4mdn4m9T5xjTfTSmUMMBpkEcJO3oGIDl6uDfPXC94W2vbRgI1ZxHo3Er9f2HftccsYcm5Lo2N7Tb1LHxENz85p_7b37fz0vaGq8IyvspfmYAHYHntf_CHeJM7r/s1600/SAM_0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigtxCASXerIQVpKRYGEB4mdn4m9T5xjTfTSmUMMBpkEcJO3oGIDl6uDfPXC94W2vbRgI1ZxHo3Er9f2HftccsYcm5Lo2N7Tb1LHxENz85p_7b37fz0vaGq8IyvspfmYAHYHntf_CHeJM7r/s320/SAM_0676.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From Easter. Everyone home. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rachael went to nursery school that year Abby was in kinder, and then I never re-registered her for the second year. I didn't register her for kinder either. Technically, I didn't have to register her for anything, public school or homeschool, until this year, but I registered her for homeschooling last year, grade 1. "Register" isn't even the correct term - here we just have to notify the Department of Education of our intent to homeschool, and fill out two progress reports per school year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Easy-peasy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So now, as Abby heads into grade 4 (!) at our local public school, in her very awesome Life Skills program, Rachael is heading into grade 2. Joseph is, theoretically, doing pre-K, although I'm not sure how much he's going to sit for bookwork. I've decided to have him "do science" with Rachael, as I think he would like the topics we're covering, and the rest... well, he's got lots of time. Reading and math will wait until he's ready. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipii5IW3O8n5GNga78sYjGLN0m1A8veWcKZ9PSLjWO_pxwx9VNac69wSsagWcOpUBbVuNhddgC8wU5V8EI7pjYB7A9-2wmRCgfGZ3wSpH68km9aP7Dtv7dmaikpUxIUiwVbpWgHlvqtXqs/s1600/SAM_0972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipii5IW3O8n5GNga78sYjGLN0m1A8veWcKZ9PSLjWO_pxwx9VNac69wSsagWcOpUBbVuNhddgC8wU5V8EI7pjYB7A9-2wmRCgfGZ3wSpH68km9aP7Dtv7dmaikpUxIUiwVbpWgHlvqtXqs/s320/SAM_0972.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cause we're coving stuff like simple machines. He'll love it. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We're using<a href="https://www.chcweb.com/catalog/index.php" target="_blank"> CHC </a>this year, with a bit of infilling mostly from <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Catholic-Mosaic-Living-Liturgical-Literature/dp/0976638665" target="_blank">Catholic Mosaic</a> and trying to embrace some <a href="http://project-based-homeschooling.com/10-steps-to-getting-started-with-project-based-homeschooling" target="_blank">project-based stuff</a>. We've been using a mix of different things over the past few years, trying out <a href="http://materamabilis.org/ma/" target="_blank">Mater Amabilis</a> and <a href="http://www.setonhome.org/" target="_blank">Seton</a>. I love the idea of a Charlotte Mason-style curriculum, but with MA I had to do too much of the planning. Seton was just too intense. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">CHC seems to be a happy medium. Rachael doesn't have the patience to kill-and-drill, and I would rather find myself in a position where I have to seek out extra work instead of feeling obligated to finish the whole. darn. book. That's stress I don't need. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So this year is going to look something like this: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtLpekBiJ4tQCWJZjgFZeoigRdj71d5pd3YhmR6NoVr0tLFZCA5n-x4XAq37eBVFlXB57pPBe_kHcp91tIlI-Ckpj1jFGyyRbJ0wndoChkgu_aXtbIGIlvLIxYg-JUvje4SuJrGYJRi7H/s1600/SAM_0967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtLpekBiJ4tQCWJZjgFZeoigRdj71d5pd3YhmR6NoVr0tLFZCA5n-x4XAq37eBVFlXB57pPBe_kHcp91tIlI-Ckpj1jFGyyRbJ0wndoChkgu_aXtbIGIlvLIxYg-JUvje4SuJrGYJRi7H/s320/SAM_0967.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">with a bit of this thrown in for good measure: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTl2iuCyrY1zvx2PwrB_p4Ej2I61dhZqDO2zlYDmnPtB804B1O3QjpS7etHk-LllJByXdSn0IIv3B_A6k2g7aD8qUAfVPZeaN6PfAx-dYR1svAy-tw7esH4tNFp-JKEDj-yx3FNRJOPxsl/s1600/SAM_0947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTl2iuCyrY1zvx2PwrB_p4Ej2I61dhZqDO2zlYDmnPtB804B1O3QjpS7etHk-LllJByXdSn0IIv3B_A6k2g7aD8qUAfVPZeaN6PfAx-dYR1svAy-tw7esH4tNFp-JKEDj-yx3FNRJOPxsl/s320/SAM_0947.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Planing her model of a playground</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunct8sheXeOLYhxpGm4_VdCbacPKvOaz8_orprBCRpXrut9AGtjlVJQM3AcomrwmjnG5bNL9HR2CJgDjI6PuMg_IRhXck4YtvuVfNC7wm91xHjt_ik4O5mwPyw_pu1cwRCO28fXUhkepO/s1600/SAM_0948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgunct8sheXeOLYhxpGm4_VdCbacPKvOaz8_orprBCRpXrut9AGtjlVJQM3AcomrwmjnG5bNL9HR2CJgDjI6PuMg_IRhXck4YtvuVfNC7wm91xHjt_ik4O5mwPyw_pu1cwRCO28fXUhkepO/s320/SAM_0948.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lining things up</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDnU1TwNG9sc_nF8Pcb2xwRoY3ByXTSGMuQMDjZzhjbKJSdPhzPK2r-0u1OIWT9R2QdMLhl06N2wLa19ZDTjwfFqfWHl8K1O5PsUpyqbffW6nq8BEB6sLzXaHHYyNkt4jdk8szaS_7FDO/s1600/SAM_0949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDnU1TwNG9sc_nF8Pcb2xwRoY3ByXTSGMuQMDjZzhjbKJSdPhzPK2r-0u1OIWT9R2QdMLhl06N2wLa19ZDTjwfFqfWHl8K1O5PsUpyqbffW6nq8BEB6sLzXaHHYyNkt4jdk8szaS_7FDO/s320/SAM_0949.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Needs more glue</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIb4fWWYCo0zX5u8KPCBkR0ipcmo3ekwokgNsnnHMFr_fi5V3jEt-s1tTZj8_82xRdGUOQ62xx_MtvIklh2gQumc78JElSK43MDTywRzZa3HGVNH2FKjQAWZOk18Y3NXnflbx2is8IbNSe/s1600/SAM_0950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIb4fWWYCo0zX5u8KPCBkR0ipcmo3ekwokgNsnnHMFr_fi5V3jEt-s1tTZj8_82xRdGUOQ62xx_MtvIklh2gQumc78JElSK43MDTywRzZa3HGVNH2FKjQAWZOk18Y3NXnflbx2is8IbNSe/s320/SAM_0950.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And more glue.</span>.. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL0B2CK3-lt5CqaQkjfJ0x3ewu6qmgIZ4adokD3vMlEEdpxdMMjFzf5CQEAcF2pnEdZUuJ_3Jx6zsn9N1H_hinJuXdTcuYUfzu3ZrsY-MJoL9i78DGN8KsACnBZKdv9RfXOoa0SrTmBJA/s1600/SAM_0903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYL0B2CK3-lt5CqaQkjfJ0x3ewu6qmgIZ4adokD3vMlEEdpxdMMjFzf5CQEAcF2pnEdZUuJ_3Jx6zsn9N1H_hinJuXdTcuYUfzu3ZrsY-MJoL9i78DGN8KsACnBZKdv9RfXOoa0SrTmBJA/s320/SAM_0903.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the wake of making something.</span>... </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<br />Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-29842610330219624452015-08-29T23:49:00.002-05:002015-08-29T23:49:19.380-05:00Boredom<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is what Abby did the other day, in frustration and boredom at the computer getting turned off at bedtime:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUcj0NcCCfDt7FERoCRQwvFVxhWId0yvM9I_BjMxBhyphenhyphen03lFHAfftkbX3-xN8LGYv0ChnHvnkluS2e42yk0gY1C85WXNyCYdkFzuaIqbJxy8pF9qS7aKTNBIY6r4NBEy51MQfeFkuJ4UfE/s1600/SAM_0926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUcj0NcCCfDt7FERoCRQwvFVxhWId0yvM9I_BjMxBhyphenhyphen03lFHAfftkbX3-xN8LGYv0ChnHvnkluS2e42yk0gY1C85WXNyCYdkFzuaIqbJxy8pF9qS7aKTNBIY6r4NBEy51MQfeFkuJ4UfE/s320/SAM_0926.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ooops. </span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-83400529096788676952015-08-25T22:51:00.000-05:002015-08-25T22:51:00.552-05:00The Desert<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Picking up the blog has been an interesting journey for me. For starters, at one point, I felt the need to separate out my faith from my "other stuff", something which I now know is, at best short-sighted, and at worst self-deceiving. I cannot divorce my Catholicism from the rest of me, any more than I can remove the fact that I am a woman, or a mother, or a musician, or any other part if me. I am a whole, and ignoring part of it is akin to removing a limb.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg183-8uVcBDlTpgPZ9WNg3WJpVPGBoBhUSoEVPvPuPUlAMASG91QJx8q9MwS59rr5dzmp67_so6zypDtIgvudAFSgHCfPVTWh1NSTKGAtqWenpb_Z5-knqa9ZGN5FbXjSqy9zGZnDnoQg_/s1600/Monty_python_foot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg183-8uVcBDlTpgPZ9WNg3WJpVPGBoBhUSoEVPvPuPUlAMASG91QJx8q9MwS59rr5dzmp67_so6zypDtIgvudAFSgHCfPVTWh1NSTKGAtqWenpb_Z5-knqa9ZGN5FbXjSqy9zGZnDnoQg_/s200/Monty_python_foot.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It has been in rereading old entries<a href="http://allourneedsarespecial.blogspot.ca/2011/04/unending-penance.html" target="_blank"> such as this one</a> that I realize the spiritual desert I am currently in. The passage that really struck me was</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I
contemplated, looking around at the interior of the sanctuary, how
connected we are, as Catholics, to the past. The continuity is startling
to me at times. I am reminded by something said by the then-Monseigneur
Fulton Sheen in a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6AOvStZS64">video of the Tridentine Mass:</a> nothing in the Church is thrown away. Everything is build upon, preserved. </span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It struck me very much during the singing of the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmW5pD9Qdvc">Pange Lingua</a>
during the procession: here we are, centuries upon centuries later,
singing the same words, the same tune, that our Catholic forbearers sang
(it was penned by St. Thomas Aquinas from the 13th century). Many of
the words we speak (the <a href="http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08714a.htm">Kyrie</a>, for example) date from the day of the early Church. Even our <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apostles%27_Creed">creed </a>in
some form or another dates from at least the 4th century. Gazing around
the church, you can see the symbols and the elements that have remained
with us for 2000 years... Even with the advent of Vatican II during the
1960's, the<i> Catholicity </i>of the Church is still very much intact. </span></blockquote>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm trying desperately to remember what that sense of peace and security felt like. I'm trying to remember how I felt so connected to the past, because I don't feel like that anymore. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">What changed? </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR4qQdiZUt2oevO5KZqvY9kesZiVv7zjyaSkFHxeXWxD_ilQ2_y" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR4qQdiZUt2oevO5KZqvY9kesZiVv7zjyaSkFHxeXWxD_ilQ2_y" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, I think things started to change for me when something oh-so-common in Catholic Churches occurred - we got a new priest. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Movement of diocesan clergy is commonplace in most parishes, most staying for four to six years before moving somewhere else. I know there's a philosophy/social theory behind that, less years than that it's too hard to get things done but more years than that it becomes overwhelming, something like that. Father Y came to us shortly after Abby was born, in 2006, and left in 2012, moved to a different parish within the diocese. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://holynamechurch.org/pictures/Web%20Content/adoration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://holynamechurch.org/pictures/Web%20Content/adoration.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I loved Father Y. Under him, I felt a comfortable bridging between things that were old (i.e. tradition) and things that were new (the New Mass). Under him, there was a happy medium, those things coexisted relatively well. Under him, there were no girl altar servers, and yet there were always servers for every Mass. There was incense and bells, even as Mass was said <i>versus populum</i> as we sang some bad Dan Schutte or Carey Landry tune, so favoured by those of a certain age bracket. He had beautiful vestments, and not that polyester crap you see too often these days. He talked about things like Natural Family Planning and other tough topics. He was heavily invested in forming vocations, taking several young men under his wing including one that was just ordained this past summer. He took a special interest in helping a few select individuals, individuals mostly written off by the community, something I think largely influenced by his career pre-priesthood. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It was a comfortable place for me to be. When we talked about moving back to Winnipeg, neither me or my husband wanted to leave the parish. We had roots, dude. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://images.huffingtonpost.com/2014-08-20-roots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.huffingtonpost.com/2014-08-20-roots.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now, I know not everyone loved Fr. Y like I did. People have criticized that he was not "good with youth", because he made the tough decision to cancel the unsustainable LifeTeen program (the volunteers had burnt out and attendance was dwindling, besides the fact the umbrella program for that was mired in controversy at the time) and he didn't allow girl altar servers. He was criticized for certain aspects of his spending on the restoration of the parish, splurging on some items (I feel that particular criticism has at least some merit). He was maybe not the most efficient or effective human resource manager, having numerous strong personalities in the office at that time needing leadership. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.maximumvp.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/leadershipwords.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.maximumvp.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/leadershipwords.jpg" height="171" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But he was a good priest, and I was sure and happy in my faith. I had beautiful things on the outside, and they inspired beautiful things on my inside. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Then we got a new priest. Now, I want to add that he was still a very good, faithful and holy priest - but he was fully invested in the New. There was no more incense (or at least, very rarely), there were polyester vestments, and homilies were more of the Church of Nice variety. He was "great with the youth" according to several parishioners, yet the remaining youth program was dissolved due to lack of kids? staff? (I'm not even sure at this point) and there often wasn't altar servers despite girls once more being allowed. He was beloved by those who loved the New, and regarded with suspicion by those of use who loved the Old. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And then he got sick and had to leave. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://sanctifiedrant.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/autumn-leaves-light-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://sanctifiedrant.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/autumn-leaves-light-wallpaper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He left last Fall. I don't blame him, and I respect him tremendously for talking about his struggles and his determination to get well. I do not begrudge him in the least for that. But that set the stage for Father G. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After Father Y left, I became increasingly interested in all things Trad. By Trad, I mean <a href="https://www.fisheaters.com/ontraditionalcatholics.html" target="_blank">traditional Catholic</a>. I had dabbled in it for several years at that point - Father Y facilitated <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tridentine_Mass" target="_blank">TLM</a> being said on occasion at our parish, usually on a Sunday afternoon, and I attended a few times. My curiousity initially was mostly academic. History fascinates me, and I found myself drawn to this archaic form of worship to understand where we came from. But once our parish became heavily invested in the New, I found myself asking lots of questions. Lots and lots of questions. Questions that had neither easy nor satisfying answers. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://saphanatutorial.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/abc11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://saphanatutorial.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/abc11.jpg" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In other words, Father G could not have re-entered my life at the worst time. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I had met Father G some 15 years prior, before I really came back to the Church. I don't really want to go into the why and how right now, because that would be another long, drawn out, convoluted blog post. For our purposes, it suffices to say that Father G is beyond heavily invested in the New. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">He's for a New Order. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.churchmilitant.com/images/uploads/news_feature/Womanpriest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.churchmilitant.com/images/uploads/news_feature/Womanpriest.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There is, in both conservative Catholic and traditional Catholic circles, increasingly urgent whispers about the crisis in the Church. Conflict. Conspiracy. I never saw any of that first-hand, and didn't understand it. But sitting in the pews, listening to Father G say.... I can only describe them as outrageous... things every Sunday, and seeing all the nodding heads around me... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I felt sick. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Thankfully, Father G's stay was only temporary, for a season. We are now blessed with a more orthodox priest who will be (God-willing) remaining with us for several years. But the damage was done. I am shell-shocked. Empty. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">A husk. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Gone is my prayer life. Gone is my ability to hear God's whisper in the stillness of my heart. Gone is my peace and assurance. Gone is my desire to even go through the motions. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am in the desert. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <i>We are the hollow men</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We are the stuffed men</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Leaning together</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our dried voices, when</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We whisper together</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Are quiet and meaningless</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">As wind in dry grass</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Or rats' feet over broken glass</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In our dry cellar - T.S. Eliot</span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-1812932433829074582015-08-18T11:04:00.003-05:002015-08-18T11:04:52.773-05:00Superpowers<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It started with a casual remark from Rachael. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"You know, Mom," she said, "I wish I had Autism so I can have superpowers too."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Superpowers? Autism? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Yep. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Abby has, among other talents, bionic hearing. At least, it seems like she does. We live very close to the CP mainline, and freight trains rumble past our house a dozen or more times a day. Abby can hear them. I mean, we hear them too, but she hears them<i> miles</i> out, sometimes as much as five minutes before the rest of us can. She'll come up to you and say:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Hear a train?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">(Most of her statements are in the form of questions - echolalia I suppose from us asking her constant questions.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />To which we often will remark, "Do you hear a train? There's your superautismhearing again!" because 99% of the time, there will be train along shortly. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyh1ynZaQlTPFmPEWJs32dnz4mvcdNrtjK_v8fkNelK2CV6cKXDSV0KN3m39sSqR5tzztQSPULtMwxpsbsZu0y2cLM75xhruL9Cek5IaqV3m6GZnn7-A4k1PtjkQJzXs2CcQfFqSklmEN/s1600/index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyh1ynZaQlTPFmPEWJs32dnz4mvcdNrtjK_v8fkNelK2CV6cKXDSV0KN3m39sSqR5tzztQSPULtMwxpsbsZu0y2cLM75xhruL9Cek5IaqV3m6GZnn7-A4k1PtjkQJzXs2CcQfFqSklmEN/s1600/index.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Rachael has long been obsessed with superheros. For a year or more, she added to her prayers every night that God would make her a superhero when she grows up. So, not surprisingly, she might be a bit jealous that Abby has a "superpower". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Too often, we read and hear about how our children on the Spectrum need to be "cured" or "fixed". I have questioned that philosophy for several years now. I questioned it waaaay back in ABA, and I question it still. Is my child actually broken? Or is she just differently-abled? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6GOsCp3EVZXxtWZpNzfrHDFWeDsHSkC_xsKoOLoY3mugVSGbGkjrRSC6vkr_X1pPKdKLktvigoyOml584w7-hArAo44Z5m-pxdzxV5kntZ0cDKRbyDYVjieScsHn725s141HnJD2W_2M/s1600/Question-Marks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6GOsCp3EVZXxtWZpNzfrHDFWeDsHSkC_xsKoOLoY3mugVSGbGkjrRSC6vkr_X1pPKdKLktvigoyOml584w7-hArAo44Z5m-pxdzxV5kntZ0cDKRbyDYVjieScsHn725s141HnJD2W_2M/s320/Question-Marks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Certainly, there are traits with Autism that make it difficult for her to function in our culture, but there are lots of things in our culture that I find dis-functional. Does Autism govern our family life? In many ways, it does. Will she need care for the rest of her life? Probably. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But do all those things add up to a person being "broken"? After all, even Batman had a caregiver (Alfred), the Incredibles, well, they *were* a family of superheros, and guys like Peter Parker never seem to fit in anyway. Neither did the X-Men. And they were superheros. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKZv66g2AaeO3_isDhiCSnFHjoIpuXrjRdMtzVEGuKw2CmKR30uV3how1Ea_3Kcko7gixj2gpmNYhJ2bxL-jIs9rK_OLGImu1cev59y48HBj7IvckDwKnLfZbsMSARu2MYKMTzeyQ8n36/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKZv66g2AaeO3_isDhiCSnFHjoIpuXrjRdMtzVEGuKw2CmKR30uV3how1Ea_3Kcko7gixj2gpmNYhJ2bxL-jIs9rK_OLGImu1cev59y48HBj7IvckDwKnLfZbsMSARu2MYKMTzeyQ8n36/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So what does that make Abby, with her superpowers?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-7914964515406589382015-08-16T14:01:00.000-05:002015-08-16T14:01:22.781-05:00Nourish<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mea culpa, it's been forever, hasn't it? Life is busy with four kids (yes, I did say four!), homeschooling, and renovating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I keep saying I'm going to start blogging again, and I never seem to get around to it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Mea culpa.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Today I want to write about nourishment, which is fitting seeing how today's Gospel reading was this, from the book of John:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’ So Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live for ever." (6:51-58)</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We, as Catholics, find in this passage one of the scriptural justifications for ancient Tradition, the doctrine of Transubstantiation. It is the belief that the bread and wine actually turn into the Body and Blood of Christ. Whenever Jesus prefaced a passage with "Very truly, I tell you,", which is also sometimes translated as "Verrily, verrily, I say unto you", Jesus is speaking literally. He tells us that we must literally eat the flesh and drink the blood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Some people will argue that Jesus didn't mean literally, but was speaking figuratively. But if that was the case, why did that statement cause such an uproar among the other Jews? <i>They</i> thought he was speaking literally! Besides, if you look back on the history of the Jews, and what sacrifices entailed and what happened to them, it makes perfect sense that Jesus - the sacrifice once and for all - needs to be consumed, as all sacrifices must be in some fashion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But enough of the theology. This is about food. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I've been feeling really awful lately. The baby, at 10.5 months, sleeps like a newborn. Meaning, she's up every 45 to 90 minutes through the night. Her waking wakes up Abby, who sometimes struggles to go back to sleep. That means lots of sleepless night for this Momma, and my zombie-like state during the day means some of the daily household <i>stuff</i> does by the wayside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Meal-planning was basically non-existent this past week, since getting back from our sorjourn to Winnipeg for a bit of holidays and to attend the funeral Mass for my husband's grandmother. And my body paid the price. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I didn't realize it until yesterday, after eating an honest-to-goodness real meal cooked from <i>real</i> food, with lots of veggies and good quality protein just how low I had been feeling, and how much of it was from the junk and processed food I had been feeding it. The difference was remarkable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Eating badly seems to be a self-perpetuating thing. You eat badly because you're too tired to prepare something decent. You feel worse because you didn't eat well, which makes you too tired for the next meal. It keeps going. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We had relaxed Abby's food restrictions somewhat in recent months, and it makes a tremendous difference. Gluten, as it turns out, is still mostly off-limits. We can let her have some here and there (helpful for things like birthday parties), but we pay for it the next day in her behaviour. She's a good eater, however, and I can't complain. She loves foods like egg whites, broccoli (she can eat a 5 lb bag by herself in the course of 3 days), turnips, roasted chicken, carrots, salad greens, baked potatoes etc. Stuff that most parents dream of their kids eating, nevermind kids on the spectrum. Many of her classmates seem to survive on processed foods, which can't be helping their behaviour. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Joseph can't have too much processed stuff either, or he's positively vibrating. He seems to need a diet of fresh air, good activities to keep his mind and body busy, plenty of fruits and raw veggies, and strict restrictions on things like TV and computer time (AKA screen time), as they seem to effect her weirdly and needs to detox from them once you turn them off. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">We need to be conscious of what we choose to nourish ourselves with. I think eating fresh, whole food is more important that choosing non-GMO, although I will chose non-GMO when I can. I think nourishing our minds with good books, good projects, and lifelong learning is paramount. I think nourishing our hearts with the companionship of family and good friends helps us lead balanced lives. And nourishing our soul with Christ, both literally when we receive the most Holy Eucharist, and spirituality within our devotions and liturgical practices, strengthens us in our daily lives. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-82299275198229088152014-01-08T21:24:00.002-06:002014-01-08T21:24:50.922-06:00New Adventures<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm assuming, like so many endevours, the number of newly-created blogs and the ressurecting of old blogs surges around the New Year. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Life has been interesting. We have gone some unexpected places, and I'm still figuring out where these roads are taking us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But for now, just a picture: </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWo4nQGEbTVqXQ3pGSc_L_Ba3m58Eh_PM6Puj_dY1AwvDOdulqAGWFbq1JYVj_w-4oCOH_Zb1FNPb3ts56yU7mSOQTKyIR6XYO7YukM2pefQoRhqiSZnrL4-U9fT33ClkTxozhDzyf0qK/s1600/P23004S1210282_c_1.1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWo4nQGEbTVqXQ3pGSc_L_Ba3m58Eh_PM6Puj_dY1AwvDOdulqAGWFbq1JYVj_w-4oCOH_Zb1FNPb3ts56yU7mSOQTKyIR6XYO7YukM2pefQoRhqiSZnrL4-U9fT33ClkTxozhDzyf0qK/s1600/P23004S1210282_c_1.1.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-88692317283099085232013-01-27T22:32:00.002-06:002013-01-27T22:32:40.988-06:00Paranoia<em>This has been kicking around in my draft folder from 2011. I don't think it was done, but what's there is kinda cool and thought I would publish anyway. Maybe someday it will be famous, like an "unfinished symphony" or something... :)</em><br />
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I admit I am, by nature, a slightly paranoid person.<br />
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I come by it naturally. I come from a long line of Oh-Now-Let's-Dream-Up-The-Worst-Possible-Thing-That-Can-Happen-In-This-Situation people.<br />
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Mysterious bump on your arm? <i>Infected deadly spider bite.</i><br />
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Headache?<i> Brain Tumor. </i><br />
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Loved one not answering the phone? <i>Dead in a ditch somewhere. </i><br />
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...You get the idea.<br />
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Now, I try very hard not to be paranoid. I read extensively, and I enjoy research. I try to always look at both sides of the situation, or to think up Not-The-Worst-Case-Scenario alternatives to my problem. I am aware of my tendency in this area, and I try very consciously and purposefully to counteract it.<br />
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But I tell 'ya, there are days where those voices in my head make too much sense....<br />
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I've long been concerned about the issue of<a href="http://www.foodmattersmanitoba.ca/content/what-it-is%E2%80%A6"> food security</a>. That, by extension has created my interest in the safety of our food supply when it comes to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genetically_modified_organism">GMO</a>'s.<br />
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There was a time in my life when I had very little concern about what I put in my body. I joked that I was trying to save money on my funeral by eating lots of preservatives now. That all changed eight short years ago, when I was diagnosed with a <a href="http://www.hc-sc.gc.ca/fn-an/securit/allerg/fa-aa/allergen_sulphites-sulfites-eng.php">sulphite allergy</a>. Suddenly, what I put into my body came front and centre.<br />
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My diet was reduced to primarily natural foods, whole and unadultered. In recent years, my diet has expanded as my knowledge has increased, but a significant number of foods are still off the menu.<br />
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The most dramatic change, however, was that I was forced to read labels. All of them. With Abby's allergies and food sensitivities, that becomes even more imperative.<br />
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I've progressed from a person who couldn't care less about what I put into my body to a person who is horrified at 90% of the products on our grocery store shelves. Who worries about the effects of the chemicals in her shampoo and laundry soap. Who refuses to take birth control pills because she's convinced that they are a harmful product on so many levels.<br />
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Now, I'm not perfect. I still love donuts, and have passed my love of the tasty, sweet treat to Rachael, who already at the age of two thinks TEN <a href="http://www.timhortons.com/ca/en/menu/timbits.html">timbits</a> are not enough...Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657337491270554712.post-45716005984932967722013-01-27T22:23:00.001-06:002013-01-27T22:23:14.139-06:00Something in the air<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hi. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Glad you haven't completely abandoned me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYghjD9xjUMU9SMo0IlwORz88XkD5v9ursysv_IhE-EASd4dscZElFGP4rw3g3n0LjkhQy4bkEMxEWefTPrpgKhjoG_hn7f54aanz0AcJKaLpEEZxiY9rx9FP6bNkVaBoolJsj3v3JMMpj/s1600/abandoned_aliens_tarzan_553835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYghjD9xjUMU9SMo0IlwORz88XkD5v9ursysv_IhE-EASd4dscZElFGP4rw3g3n0LjkhQy4bkEMxEWefTPrpgKhjoG_hn7f54aanz0AcJKaLpEEZxiY9rx9FP6bNkVaBoolJsj3v3JMMpj/s320/abandoned_aliens_tarzan_553835.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I feel like I am once again on a cusp. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The last cusp I don't think amounted to much other than a new baby. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Don't worry... that won't happen this time. ;)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhze8sLc0sfpUOIBA8msYQrQTAz5hBZeesxuVBKsXJJ61xhOT9Pi5nvJ1BbgKnMS1XDPiJVwXnJJ5lGe1sNQAuCCMOA4bwtPHLuH3tXgnS8J1a3fVPSmIAd7MlSGijvsymX0FZFrR37ymcD/s1600/IMGP6568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhze8sLc0sfpUOIBA8msYQrQTAz5hBZeesxuVBKsXJJ61xhOT9Pi5nvJ1BbgKnMS1XDPiJVwXnJJ5lGe1sNQAuCCMOA4bwtPHLuH3tXgnS8J1a3fVPSmIAd7MlSGijvsymX0FZFrR37ymcD/s320/IMGP6568.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Babies #2 & #3 going for a horsey ride. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to post more, but I have to think about it. There's an air of change afoot, and I don't mean <a href="http://idlenomore.ca/" target="_blank">Idle No More</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But for updates... Abby is wellish. We thought we started having seizures again before Christmas, but turns out they were ticks. Gobs and gobs of ticks. Why? you may ask. They haven't a friggin' clue. We're going to get assessed by a psychiatrist, and they keep throwing words like "Tourette's" around. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Poor kid. Poor Mom. Poor Dad. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because obstacles like Epilepsy and Autism weren't enough, eh?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMLYXoyQ3s724xGwaR-hYXqRXEN20k7Kry_Ng2ieTy039UzmRbcvn-g_EgauaY1FkUK1rPCF1zNXpDIJrCO7jUHl_V75SBgHZWYoXHtbSsIGyrTZfLHSegL9oYhAyx5ybHb_qHfzgddWF/s1600/Obstacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirMLYXoyQ3s724xGwaR-hYXqRXEN20k7Kry_Ng2ieTy039UzmRbcvn-g_EgauaY1FkUK1rPCF1zNXpDIJrCO7jUHl_V75SBgHZWYoXHtbSsIGyrTZfLHSegL9oYhAyx5ybHb_qHfzgddWF/s320/Obstacles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yeah, yeah, okay. I know. Go do the dishes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We'll chat later. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Carolynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04121927281998746424noreply@blogger.com0