(Mostly) Irrational Fears

We leave for Israel in 13 days.

13 DAYS!!!! 

This gorgeous pic was derived from a humble Flip video, taken by Kev this summer

I'm not gonna lie.  When I start to think about our family dropping us at O'Hare and then going through the crazy security with our kids and a gate check stroller and 4x40 lb carry ons I get anxious heart palpatations and feel like I might break out in hives.

We are going to live an a  foreign country for 4 months.  With two small children.  For whom we are supposed to be responsible.  

Aren't they just freakin' adorable??

 [WAIT---what??  Two small children, aged one and almost FIVE??  Umm, I was under the impression that I was still kinda playing house and I'd wake up soon to my mom calling me home for dinner]. 

What if some insane What's Up Doc shennanigans happen and I accidentally end up flying the plane because I knocked out the captain who invited me up to the cabin to sing 

the Israeli national anthem?

Or what if I we catch some crazy bird/goat/camel flu and end up in bed 

with no one to care for us?

What if I suffer a bad bout of depression and am miserable?

What if my friends forget me?

What if Jacob, in missing his socialization, will conjure a dozen imaginary friends 

all named Thor?

Deep cleansing breath.  In through the nose, out through the mouth.    

In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

No, Danielle. 

It's time for the big girl panties.  

The ones with the gold stars and the a$$ kickin' boots.

to help get my bidniz together and 

suck the marrow out of this adventure.

Bring it.

A haphazard run-down of Christmas Joys

Kevin and I are so thankful to live near our families.  It allows us to spend Christmas Day with both sides and makes for a full-to-brimming dose of joy.

We started our Christmas with my family---a Christmas Eve overnight at the Richardson house complete with Carbonnades a Flamande and Fettucine Alfredo for dinner, Christmas stories by the light of the tree and cookies for Santa.

Source:  http://www.fashion-era.com/images/xmas/xmas_traditions/xmasvicalb40.jpg

Speaking of the jolly old man (tangent alert, skip ahead after brackets if so desired).

[Kevin and I have been very open with Jacob on the whole Santa thing.  Kevin was disturbed upon learning that Santa wasn't "real" in the whole riding-on-a-sleigh-visiting-all-the-houses-in-the-world thing.  It led to questioning all the other pretend characters like Tooth Fairy,  Easter Bunny, etc.  and worried if we did Santa with Jacob he might ultimately question the veracity of Jesus.

He felt very strongly about not "doing Santa" and  I will admit,  it made me a bit sad not to be setting out cookies and listening for sleigh bells, but I respected Kevin's strong opinion on the matter.

However, parenting is a finely-balanced dance of intent and flexibility. 

We had many conversations with Jacob about the stereotypical Santa being an imagination game, with everyone pretending in excitement and anticipation.  We affirmed that there was a real St. Nicholas who, when he was alive,  brought gifts to people in the quiet, dark night and that we commemorate Jesus' birth in this same spirit of generousity and gratitude.

Jacob knew that it was a pretend game.  But brother wanted to play that game and play it up.  He said he didn't want to miss out and, although we had been open and honest with him, he wanted to pretend with reckless abandon.

And so, pretend we did.]

Christmas day came quickly after just a few hours' sleep....(even though we had presents wrapped and ready early, there's always that reluctance to go to bed, to prolong the quiet visiting, re-living Christmases past and wondering at where the years have gone).  The kids were amazed at the presents, falling to the ground in feigned fainting and quickly popping up for stockings.

Present opening was a slow affair, with breaks for food and naps, and of course some drama in the mix.  With a history of challenges that could rival the most sordid of Lifetime Originals, we can't seem to break free of the drama, but it stems from love or else it means we don't care, right?  ;)

 

Linda Hamilton crackin' me up 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner was the most delectable rib roast I have ever tasted.  Cooked to a perfect rare/medium rare and mouth-watering flavor, it just melted in the mouth.  With all the tasty accoutrements, it was a lovely Christmas meal.

Then, at 9:00 we set off for the 3.5 hour drive to Terre Haute.  Jacob read his new geography book, then Mommy told a homespun rendition of the Nativity story from the eyes of Shlomo, a little shepherd boy who pay homage to the baby Jesus.

Completely unrelated (aside from the shared name), how wicked is this???

We arrived in Terre Haute around 12:30/12:45 and, after Jacob's excited persistence, we opened presents until about 2:00.  The kiddos were wide-awake and happily soaking in the love and attention from Nana, Papa and Auntie Kathleen.

Today was a slow day.  Ceci slept until 8:30, Mommy slept until 10:00.  We had Mass, a visit with Great Nana and Great Auntie Annie, naps all around and then an ever-bustling Haley gathering.

All in all it's been a wonderful beginning to the Christmas season.  Blessings to all!!!

Gems of Gratitude

Tonight I am grateful for:

Fr. Dan Scheidt 

When he comes for dinner, it's as if a long lost member of our little clan has returned, melting into the chaotic joy and randomness.  He really "gets us" in our Chestertonian joy and Percian randomness....He gets us.  He gets the hilarity of discovering a potato on the floor in front of the door.  Yup, it happened. 

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 Mr. Men and Little Miss Books.  You know the ones, right?  Little Miss Sunshine, Mr. Tickle, Little Miss. Oops (totally me), Mr. Nice and Miss. Tidy.  I also have to hold back rioutous laughter at Jacob’s pronunciation when he reads the last title.  Let’s just say he thinks it’s a short “i” sound.  

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I am TOTALLY lovin' on this schtick.  I could eat it with a spoon:
 

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Pandora's holiday music stations---particularly the Classical Christmas and the Folk Christmas.  Pandora, I <3 you!!

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Staying up way too late wrapping presents with my mom and sisters, feeling a child-like excitement not for opening my own presents, but for our children to open theirs.  We like to pretend every year that we are going to have a super simple Christmas, really we do.  

Then, it's like bunnies.     (How ADORABLE, right??)

There's more and more generosity and before we know it, the floor is covered in gifts and it takes 4 hours to open them because of course we go one person, one gift at a time. There's no other way!   Knee-high wrapping paper and  wild-eyed kiddos abound.  

Honestly, it's not about the stuff---with small storage space, we are very particular about what the kids get.   It's all about the love. 

I remember as young children, my parents would place chairs at the top of the stairs so that we wouldn't sneak down in the morning.  We'd all wait until everyone woke up, dad would go down to start the coffee and we would sing Happy Birthday to Jesus with croaky morning-soaked voiced.  Hair all scraggly-like and clad with flannel pjs, we would rush down the stairs at dad's cue, maniacally screeching at the array.

I still feel that tenderness about Christmas morning.  

In the intimacy of early morning, there is something sacred about the togetherness, the celebration of a King born in most humble beginnings.  A child long-awaited, the Great Light.  Wonderful Counselor, King of Kings, Prince of Peace.  Born amidst animals in true simplicity.

And so, we will all gather at Alicia's house tomorrow---our ragtag group who has weathered so much.  

Yes, after years of challenges and hardship (of which we shall speak later), we will gather in love--and we shall have our annual overnight, kiddos and all.

And we'll have ourselves a Merry little Christmas. 

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I am **LOVING** seeing how many people have visited my little blog so far----in a little over a week we've had almost 850 hits, with visitors from The US, UK, Croatia, Chile and Hong Kong.  YOU ARE AWESOME!!

SOOOO, now that I've told you myself a bit about myself, I'd love to know something about you, fellow beauty seekers

For what are YOU grateful for today?  Do you have any special holiday traditions you'd like to share?

****Please let me know via facebook or email if you have trouble posting a comment
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Have a blessed Christmas Eve!

 

  

To My Dearest Cecilia Rose

My dear long-awaited daughter, you are deeply loved.


Mommy and Daddy desired another baby after the great gift of your big brother,

Sweet Jacob

 but Mommy's body wasn't quite ready.


We worked and waited, prayed and hoped.  I began to accept that we might not bear more children physically, but would welcome them in a different and beautiful way.


Then, after such a long time,  it seemed I might have life within me again.  

 It was Tridduum, 2009.  I decided to wait until Easter to take a test, but late in the night of Holy Thursday/Good Friday, my hopes were dashed (or so it seemed).

On the day of greatest sadness, I experienced my own passion and death.  Why couldn't I bear another child, when thousands were abandoned, abused, or not even welcomed into this world?  Why were there people dreading the news of a new life, when I was literally crying out to feel the quickening of a child?


Throughout the rest of the weekend, I still felt an inkling of hope.  We were blessed to have the Skorich family and lovely Nicole with us for our Easter celebration.  At the time, my dear friend Danielle Rose was in the convent and was able to call her family for an Easter hello.  In their immense generosity, Rosie and Dan allowed me to speak Danielle.  Amidst sobbing in joy and missing one another, she said, "Danielle, do not be afraid of the baby Jesus has for you.  Trust Him."

Easter Monday:  PREGNANT!!!!!!

Your timing, sweet Ceci, was liturgically impeccable.  We heard of your new life at Easter, and welcomed you at Christmas.  From Great Feast to Great Feast.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
One year ago, I finally held you in my arms, Little Bird.

I love how it almost looks like she's smiling in this. 

I did not know if and when I would ever know this joy again.


The first cry of life, the tears that pour forth from an overflowing heart.  


And then.... there it is.

The soft weight of new life.


It is not just the weight of your tender body, but the weight of all that comes with such a complex gift.


It is the weight of providing faith, love, security, self-awareness, compassion. 


It is the weight of feeding and sleepless nights, of bonked heads and vaccinations. 


It is the weight of glorious development, growing every day into the beautiful child of God you were, are and will be.

You are full of life, welcoming, social, laid back, flirty, enthusiastic, strong, physically adept, spunky, beautiful, joyful, fierce, smiley, dramatic, cuddly, talkative.


And girl, let me tell ya, you are one gorgeous Ceci.

 

More Christmas Music Love

I love this INCREDIBLE classic guitar/violin version of O Holy Night:

This is one of my favorite traditional Christmas songs, set in a unique way:

 

Who can resist Biebl's Ave Maria by musical men in uniform?

 

We are loving this activity.  Jacob's favorite video was this weird electric guitar rendition of Carol of the Bells.  He innately started headbanging and said, "Come on mom,  this is sooo coooool.  Dance!!!"  What do you do when an almost 5 year old invites you to headbang to a Christmas song?  You listen, of course!  :)

Carols+Wine+Friends=FUN

As many of you may know, Kevin and I are choir dorks.

We both sang in choirs for much of our life----church choirs, high school choirs.  Let it be known that Kevin was even in Swing Choir.  There may have been gold lame vests involved, and they may have sung/danced to the Mission Impossible theme song.  Just sayin'.

We met and fell in love while in Folk Choir at Notre Dame, and the story goes on from there.

Anyhoo, now that life has us busy with dissertatin' and child rearin', the closest we get to choir singing is outside the hookah tree (woot woot to the Elliots) when I force people to sing with me under punishment of no more hookah.

Due to the sheer lack of choir opportunities, I always look forward to the annual Anderson Carol Sing.  Dr. Gary Anderson (Kev's director) and his wife, Lisa, host a December gathering every year replete with an abundance of wine, delicious food and dang good singin'.  Nothing gets me in the Christmas spirit like a glass of pinot grigio and a rousing rendition of In Dulci Jubilo with a roomful of ridiculously intelligent worldwide scholars.  Tru dat.  (Kinda lovin' the jaunty flautist at the beginning of this video).

Of course, I have to post some of my favorite renditions of carols/fav tracks from Christmas albums:

Who doesn't love them some Sufjan?

A favorite Advent tune, haunting.  Seriously, who better than Josh Garrells????

And what Christmas would be complete w/o Amy Grant's cheese-a-riffic Breath of Heaven (which I secretly still love).

Though I could spend hours on this game,  we'll save more for the rest of the week.  I promise at least one new post of Advent/Christmas music sharing a day.

Until then, dear reader, discover the beauty!!!!

Oh the Sensitivity

Sometimes it can really suck being sensitive.  Add that on top of a hormone party almost 2 years in the making, and you've got yourself one crazy mama.

In regard to the former, I've tried to change it.  I've tried to be tough---and regarding some things, I have certainly build up a good shell, all shellacked up with a hearty protective coating, letting things just roll right off.

In many ways, however, I'm still like 5 year old Danielle whose feelings were hurt because Martin didn't want to play house any more, or because Erica invited Elizabeth over to play, but not me.  Or the dozens and dozens of times in my life when I was not included, or someone criticized a bit too harshly, or boys wouldn't dance with me at the middle school dances, or I didn't get a certain part in a play.....and the list goes on and on. 

A mullet, butch AND perm?  Oy.

                                    

To be fair, I was a bit of a target.

 Seriously, I remember getting heart twangs of anxiety when groups of people were gathered around laughing and carrying on because I was CONVINCED they were laughing at me.

It is quite an interesting thing, this conundrum of humanity.  In our self-centeredness we are convinced that everything is about us.  A lack of invitation (to play, dine, etc.) could never be due to something as sensible as lack of space or desire for intimate gathering, but must just MUST represent an utter rejection of us.  A solo or role unearned could certainly not be due to someone else's voice/acting fitting the song/role better, but HAD to be the complete failure and lack of talent on our part.

These examples are completely ridiculous and do not AT ALL reflect anything that has gone through my mind.  No, no, not ever......  ;)

I'm 29 years old,  so it really knocks me to my knees when I get those heart palpitations of self-conscious sensitivity.

At the same time, it is this very sensitivity that allows me a deep emotional awareness of other people, an ability to empathize and a desire to be as inclusive as possible.  (Admittedly ad nauseam sometimes for that last one).

The Missionaries of Charity, Mother Teresa's order,  pray a beautiful Litany of Humility which has been an enormous boon for me at times when I am suffocated by my need to be consulted, loved, included and regarded.   I hope it be a help to you also.

   
 Mama T, pray for us!!

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Jesus.
From the desire of being loved...
From the desire of being extolled ...
From the desire of being honored ...
From the desire of being praised ...
From the desire of being preferred to others...
From the desire of being consulted ...
From the desire of being approved ...
From the fear of being humiliated ...
From the fear of being despised...
From the fear of suffering rebukes ...
From the fear of being calumniated ...
From the fear of being forgotten ...
From the fear of being ridiculed ...
From the fear of being wronged ...
From the fear of being suspected ...

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I ...
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease ...
That others may be chosen and I set aside ...
That others may be praised and I unnoticed ...
That others may be preferred to me in everything...
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should… 

Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (1865-1930)
Secretary of State for Pope Saint Pius X

Random Joys

It's been exhilirating to share some of the scattered and sundry thoughts that swish, swirl, undulate, percolate, teem, trickle, swell, spew, sluice, emanate, abound, arise, exude, ripple and exudate from my brain at any given moment.  (Yes, those were from an online thesaurus.  Yes, it's been one of my favorite books/tools since childhood.  Yes, I think most of the aforementioned words and their various partners in crime are quite onomatopoetic). 

A small tangent and caveat, kind reader:  I have ADD.  In a joking way and in a bona fide way.  If you are in it for the long haul (and I hope you are), you will be the victim of many an aside.  Enjoy it like you would the sublime oddities at Madame Tussad's Wax Museum.

SOOOO, onward.  One of the things I will likely do often is a kind of spontaneous celebration of the things that bring me joy in a given moment---and you can bet your bottom dollar they will be intense and they will be random.

Tonight's Spontaneous Celebration 

(sentence-fragments, made-up words and crazy punctuation are allowed, in fact, encouragitated....)

The incredible self-control it takes to avoid giving all my Christmas gifts out before they are even wrapped, just to see the excitement.

The serendipitous trip (long-avoided) I took shopping last night (thanks Ang and Donna) during which I found a non-super girly tea set, which Jacob has asked for for some time now.  It's tin.  And vintagey.  And it has Scottish Terriers. 

Similar to this but even cuter:               



The fact that I lost control this morning and gave Jacob said early Christmas gift.

The incredible face of sheer elation at the gift and ensuing tea parties with real friends, stuffed friends, Mommy and sissy.  Oh, and it was declared the most favorite toy of all toys.

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My selfish buy last night.  

I had one as a child and need one as my luvvie for when we're gone. 

Totally not kidding:

Total coolness points for anyone who knows what this fine creature is.
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http://www.npr.org/2010/12/16/132113887/misfit-tunes-little-known-holiday-music

http://www.npr.org/2010/12/16/132113887/misfit-tunes-little-known-holiday-music

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Cheerio!

My best friend and her ethereal voice.

I am awestruck....

Cowboy Joy

It Takes a Village

It occurred to me last night, as we enjoyed an impromptu date night, how blessed we are to have our family here with us. Aside from my Semester Around the World in 2001, I have never lived in a different city than most of my immediate family.
When Jacob was a baby and my mom wasn't working, I didn't take Jacob grocery shopping with me until he was far past one year old. She supported me through my PPD, coming over most days so that I could nap.

Grandma and Baby Jacob

When Ceci came along, both Kevin's mom and mine took their entire break tending to our family and helping me recover from my c-section.   My mom regularly came over after work to lend a hand, or my sweet sister Alicia would take Jacob to run off his energy with cousin Elise. When Kev was gone in Israel this summer, Uncle Jimmy would go grocery shopping, make dinner or help put the kiddos down for bed.

 Kevin's family lives just a few hours away, lending their amazing and generous support whenever they can, calling to check in and send love.  I am so grateful for them.

A proud godfat

We also live in thus unreal, amazing family of University Village. I remember when Kevin suggested moving here when I got pregnant with Jacob, I threw a fit---and I mean that quite literally. I think there may have been tears involved. And cursing---a curse of mine is my cursing. Perhaps a stomp of foot for the drama. Anyhoo, I remember yelling something about it looking like a prison, that when we rode the trolley during college and children watched from the fence of the playground, it evoked memories of National Geographic photos of refugee camps.

I know, I was (and sometime am) a brat.

Within a day or so of moving in, I took it all back and haven't looked back since. From my first interaction with Jamie, who made me feel so welcome and included and became a dear friend to Carmen to Bethany, Simone, Julie, Sarah, Donna, Angela, Jess, Allyson, Manuela, Julia-- to all the dozens of incredible women I've come to know and love---I pray you know who you are!!

    A famed $2 margarita night

  My children are afforded the gift of a huge fenced-in back yard, play equipment, dozens of playmates and the chance to take healthy risks like---GASP---climbing trees!! (I tell you, no one makes jungle children like the Village makes 'em. Strongman was climbing ladders at 14 months).

Village All Saints' Day Party

 At a moment's notice and a quick phone tree, we can have an impromptu tea gathering with steaming cups warming our hands as the littles play underfoot.

When I am struggling and tired and doubting my loveability, my mama hens sweep in with hugs and chocolate, giving me a safe space to voice my insecurities and then swiftly countering them with affirmations. Real affirmations, real love, no two-faced business.

I know, I know, it sounds unrealistic and super Hallmark cheese. Real, its is. Hallmark? Bring it on.

Countless people who don't live here, used to live here or want to leave here talk about the incredible support, the lack of frenemies, the ability to be real with one another. To be genuinely happy with a friend's pregnancy, job offer, haircut, and any number of joys. To share genuine sorrow, to shed tears at the loss of a child, a mother, the wounds of past hurts, to truly suffer with one another. To cram into a tiny living room with children twittering about from mama to mama, wrapped in love and cheek pinches, sipping tea and spelling the naughtier bits for tender ears.

This is the stuff of life, baby. Sharing the love, dividing the hurt, giving support. Simple, right? It only takes a Village to get there.

And So It Begins....

Here goes my timid effort to make a mark in the fishbowl world of blogging. I love visiting blogs, finding kinship with other people who similar interest, or with people who make me laugh, make me angry, challenge me or just make me feel grateful to be alive.

It has been said that when Virginia Woolfe read Proust she stopped writing for quite a time. In my human self-criticism, as soon as I read someone even remotely engaging I think,
"What do I have that I could ever offer the world, to make it more beautiful." Well, perhaps I may not offer anything new, but at least I can help to shine light on things beautiful.

And with this, cherished ones, I leave you with an image of beauty for the day...



Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem
Taken on Kevin's journey this summer