Quick Takes: Luther, Christmas Cards and Dol Jan Chi

-1-

After writing this post, I did a little digging on what Martin Luther taught about Mary. I had always heard he upheld the Church's teachings on Mary and had a great devotion to her. Boy did he ever.

The veneration of Mary is inscribed in the very depths of the human heart. -Sermon, September 1, 1522

[She is the] highest woman and the noblest gem in Christianity after Christ . . . She is nobility, wisdom, and holiness personified. We can never honor her enough. Still honor and praise must be given to her in such a way as to injure neither Christ nor the Scriptures. -Sermon, Christmas, 1531 [emphasis mine]

One should honor Mary as she herself wished and as she expressed it in the Magnificat. She praised God for his deeds. How then can we praise her? The true honor of Mary is the honor of God, the praise of God's grace . . . Mary is nothing for the sake of herself, but for the sake of Christ . . . Mary does not wish that we come to her, but through her to God. -Explanation of the Magnificat, 1521

Christ, our Savior, was the real and natural fruit of Mary's virginal womb . . . This was without the cooperation of a man, and she remained a virgin after that.
-Luther's Works, Sermons on John, chaps. 1-4 (1539)


Those are really beautiful words written about Our Lady. If I had heard them without knowing who said them, I could have probably guessed they were from the Pope or Scott Hahn or someone. I genuinely wonder how the reverence and honor that Luther showed to Mary has become practically extinct in Protestant belief today.  Anybody care to shed some light on that for me?

-2-

Some Christmas card picture outtakes. The first, Overly Concerned Sister.

I call this one, Stupid Cat.

And my personal favorite, Achoo.

These were all taken before I realized I had forgotten my sweater. I put it on for the rest so we could pretend like it's actually cold here. But it's been in the 70s and 80s all week. Don't hate me. Just come visit!

-3-

Despite what the outtakes may have you believe, we did manage to snag one decent picture that is going to make the most beautiful card. I did the (very, very, very) simple design myself with Picasa and uploaded it to VistaPrint. Way cheaper than using their designs. And with the Groupon I bought, we'll be getting 100 gorgeous Christmas cards for only 28 dollars. Except that I waited until now to order them and have to pay 20 bucks for shipping. Still a good deal, but ouch.

This is only the second year we've sent out Christmas cards and last year I did my best to keep it a secret. I'm so worried about hurting someone's feelings who doesn't get a card. But the truth is, we both have huge families and are blessed with lots of far away friends from our time spent in Missouri and Mississippi. Plus friends from all over the country through this blog. Not to mention our awesome community here in Florida. So 100 cards goes pretty quickly and there are lot of people that have to get left off the list. I know it's a good problem to have but I hate it. But we can't buy 200 cards so it is what it is. I still love getting cards from people who I don't send one to and hope that no one reading is hurt if they don't get a card. Surely I'm not the only one who stresses about this right?

-4-

This wasn't from this week, but I still have to share.

Me: Today is the Feast of St. Andrew. He was a fisherman!
Hannah: He went fishing with Mary!
Me: Well......maybe.
H: Saints are people who live in heaven. We ask them to pray for us!
Me: That's right!
H: God is in heaven. He's so so so up high. 
Me: And Does God love you so much?
H: He does love me so much!
Me: And does he love Paul too?
H: No. No He doesn't love Paul.

That's not true Paul. Everybody loves you.

-5-

Our tree went up the first day of Advent. I try to act like I understand people who wait until Christmas to do their tree, but really I just can't imagine going without. The smell it fills the entire house with, the calmness and warmth the lights bring to the dark evenings and mornings, the sentimental feeling each ornament gives as I bark at Hannah to get her hands off before she breaks it.

Oh Christmas tree.

-6-

Today is my one and only nephew's first birthday! My brother-in-law (Ted's sister's husband) is from South Korea and they celebrated the traditional Dol Jan Chi for Theo's first birthday. Isn't he totes adorbs? (No, you will never, ever find that expression on this blog. Ever.) 

Isn't he precious? We didn't get to make it to St. Louis for the party but I do get to see the little prince in just a few weeks. I can't wait for him and Paul to wrestle.

Happy Birthday Theo!

-7-

Since I'm a few days late in posting these quick takes, I get to wish you all a most blessed Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Forgive me if I end with just one more quote about Mary?

It is a sweet and pious belief that the infusion of Mary's soul was effected without original sin; so that in the very infusion of her soul she was also purified from original sin and adorned with God's gifts, receiving a pure soul infused by God; thus from the first moment she began to live she was free from all sin"

Yep. Still from Luther.  From a Sermon entitled, "On the Day of the Conception of the Mother of God" in 1527. Ok, I'm done. Promise.

Head to Jen for more.

Oh, I almost forgot! Do I have any readers that live in Arkansas?? Particularly near Fayetteville? If so, email me! I have quite the treat for you.

Weekends are Never Long Enough

The weekend is the glorious two days a week when daddy is home and no one has to go to work. It's also the really tough two days a week when we try to get things accomplished because, well, it's the weekend, but the kids are all like, "It's the weekend!" And we always get about 4% of our to-do list tackled and manage to eat even easier and less stellar meals than what I find myself making after working eight hours.

Some weekends we get so much accomplished and I lay in bed Sunday night feeling a sense of pride and completion. But then I also feel like we wasted a perfectly good weekend working the entire time and didn't have a chance to relax and have fun with the kids. Other weekends we try to just relax, do "nothing" and enjoy being a family. But then I end the weekend with a sense of failure and impending doom for wasting so much time when I should have been checking off that never ending to-do list.

This weekend was the latter. And here it is, 10:00 and I haven't begun to get my things ready for work tomorrow. Or plan meals for the week. Or or or or.

But, fun was had. Family was enjoyed. And that's the most important "to-do" anyway, right?

We started off the weekend with a bike ride to the playground in absolutely perfect weather Friday night. Then Saturday morning we woke up early to watch a friend run a triathlon. From the top of Ted's shoulders Hannah kept shouting, "This be fun (nun)!" while cheering and clapping for the swimmers/bikers/runners. We also discovered that Hannah has got the moves. She danced to the unedited rap songs blaring from the speakers like she's been doing it her whole life. Or maybe she's just watched her mama long enough to know how to move to the beat. But I'm not in high school anymore, so only edited versions for me. And only in my kitchen.

After the race we checked out a Pumpkin Festival in the neighboring town. It was hot. And they charged two dollars for a three minute jaunt in the bounce house. Two whole dollars. So she bounced two whole times and then we cut out early because we were sweating through our clothes.

But not before checking out the pumpkins.

And sneaking out a different way so we wouldn't pass the bounce houses again.

We spent Saturday evening relaxing with some friends. Ted found some time to fish Sunday morning. And after Mass at a different parish, we enjoyed the Fall Festival and the free bounce house.

And the statue of Mary which Hannah might have loved as much as the bouncing.

I nursed Paul on the benches by the statue and he kept popping off to lean back and look at her. I think he was waiting for her to move or something because he just couldn't focus with Mary watching him.

Sunday ended with naps for all four of us, a swim in the kiddie pool (totally normal to swim in October. totally normal.), and a family movie night.

Thus ends the weekend. The work week will start all too soon. I'll be up with a cranky baby several times before my alarm ever goes off. And the coffee will be too weak tomorrow no matter how strong I brew it.

And we didn't get finished organizing all the kids' clothes, or start on the swing set we want to build, or clean anything, or enter receipts into the budget, or stain the bookshelf that we bought a year ago. But we had fun. And there's always next weekend, right?

I Want to Stop and Say Hi to Jesus

The great post by Elizabeth about praying a rosary with her toddler that I mentioned yesterday led me to reading this series about the catechesis of young children. Go read it. (here, here, and here)

A mind-blowing excerpt, written as she is explaining that we don't need to give our children a relationship with God, they already have one from before they were born. We merely need to help them develop it. She writes,

Just as when he learns to say “mama” my son is merely giving a voice to that which he already knew from the moment of his birth, speaking a name for that person whose voice and smell he recognized in his first moments in the outside world, so too with the name Jesus. I was merely giving him a name for something he already knew, showing him a sign and helping him put a face to a presence that he already had a relationship with from the moment of his conception.

It got my wheels turning on what I'm doing to teach my children about their faith and what I need to be doing. And I automatically started criticizing myself for not doing more. Too much tv, not teaching enough prayers, never going to daily Mass, forgetting to pray in the mornings, etc etc. But as I started thinking of the things that I do do, well the list is actually quite impressive in my mind. I share, not to toot my own horn, but because...well, sharing on this blog is what I do.

Every time we drive by a church I "wave to Jesus" and tell Hannah that His body is in the church as the Eucharist. A few times we've even stopped in to say a quick (really quick) prayer before hopping back in our cars to go home.

We pray before meals. The regular prayer and a prayer for the souls in purgatory.

We have religious pictures and crucifixes up around the house. I point them out from time to time and ask her questions. "Who is that? Who does Jesus love?"

I sing hymns as lullabies and she learned all the words of the Hail Mary from my singing it at night.

We sometimes bless each other with holy water before going to bed.

We take our children to Mass, where they receive countless graces just from their presence. I whisper in her ear during the consecration, "Jesus' body. Jesus' blood."

When she asks me if I'm happy (her newest obsession) I say "Yes, who makes me happy?" and she's learned to answer with either, "Hannah," "Daddy," Paul," or "Jesus!"

We have an occasional "family movie night" when we all sit down together and watch a religious kids show, which gives us some great points to talk about and is a lot of fun.
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We have children's Bibles and read about Moses and David and the birth of Jesus, but only when she's interested because otherwise it's a fight.

We look at a picture book of our family and godparents during our nighttime prayers and say "Pray for  ___" as we flip through. (Although, for Hannah it sounds like "pay dor ___") We also say a short litany of our patron saints and she replies with "pay dor us!"


Depending on what your faith and family life is like, that may seem like a ton or it may seem like a feeble attempt at catechesis. But listing all of that out has taken me from guilt of not being good enough to teach my children to feeling pretty competent that I can actually encourage their relationships with the Lord pretty well. I know I have more to do. I know there is always room for improvement, but right now I'm feeling more up to the challenge than I am guilt and despair.

I'm up for the challenge of limiting the TV time in hopes that creative play will better develop. (but no getting rid of Netflix until I finish Once Upon a Time season two.) I'm up for the challenge of some type of toddler rosary on a daily weekly sometimes basis. I'm up for the challenge of making it to daily Mass every so often, and requiring a morning prayer before I get them out of bed, and talking about the feast days of the saints, and adding in more spontaneous prayer throughout our days. I'm up for the challenge of playing good, holy music in the car instead of giving in to whiny requests for "row row boat" for the hundredth time. I'm up for the challenge of getting even more creative with our budget so that we can buy good quality Catholic children's books that aren't in the library. I'm up for the challenge of acting like my children's religious upbringing is the single most important aspect of my parenting. (hint, because it is.)

I'm up for the challenge because I have to be. This is what I signed up for when I had kids. When I baptized them into our faith.

Today, as I tucked Hannah in for her naptime, I whispered in her ear, "God loves you so much and thinks you are soooo special," because I was feeling a little push from reading the above articles. When she woke up from her nap I heard her yelling, "Mommy! He's gone (dawn)! Where's God (Dod)?" I thought I was just the best mom in the entire world. Here I was, whispering God into her ears as she drifted off to sleep and when she woke up she was wondering where God went. I was so excited to have a conversation about the fact that we can't see God and He lives inside of us, and so on.

"God?" I clarified. "God's gone?" Her /g/ sounds like /d/ so I figured this is what she was saying.

"No mommy. Dod. Dahhhhhd. Not Dod. Where is my dod?"

She then went around looking for him. And finally stumbled upon

God.

Her frog humidifier that I moved to our room. Because her /g/ and her /f/ sound like /d/. And she can't say /r/. So "frog"="dod".

Ok, maybe she's not as holy as I had hoped. But she did allow me to give myself that pat on the back later. As we drove to the grocery store we passed by a church. She noticed it and said, "Mommy, I want stop and say hi to Desus."

I must be doing something right. Thank Dod.

Stuff and Things

Jumping from topic to topic tonight because writing a nicely organized blog post is just tooooo much work. How do people do it?? (People are really good writers, that's how. I am not one of them.I can blog, but I can't write.) Here is a sample of the thoughts in my head this week.

Sleep training is God's gift to mothers of multiple children. And I assume of mothers of one child but I wouldn't know because I coddled the hell out of Hannah and paid dearly for it. But Paul? Well this afternoon I took a perfectly happy and playful little six month old into his room, zipped him up in his blanket bag, carried him toward the crib, and he practically jumped out of my arms to get into it. Then he laid down and stayed in said crib for the next hour and forty-five minutes. Why? Because mama has worked hard to teach him how to sleep on his own. And mama needed him to nap a little earlier today because we had somewhere to be this afternoon. Thank you son. Now please, figure it out in the middle of the night. Figure.it.out.

Hannah loves to sing Ave Maria (the one that goes "Immaculate Mary, your praises we sing...." Because there are too many versions. Well, you can't have too many versions of Ave Maria I guess.) with me while we snuggle at bedtime. She calls it "Ee-mat-tu-tate Mawy" and singing it with her is just the highlight of my life right now. Precious.

Some links:

This was a really great post about finding the activities that really help you to relax. I know blogging helps me relax for all the reasons Jen mentioned (thoughts come out of my head, I feel good about recording our lives for the future, I feel accomplished for having completed something, I enjoy it) so why do I always find myself spending more time reading blog than I do writing on my own. I really enjoy reading blogs, but sometimes I feel like I wasted a bunch of time after reading and not ever getting to writing. I never feel like I wasted time after writing. So I just need to write more. And read less. And somehow get up enough self discipline to read less when I really like reading.

This was another blog post worth the read today. Elizabeth has such a way of making me want to be a better wife and mother without making me feel like a crappy wife and mother. Her way of praying the rosary with her two year old seems totally doable. So doable I'm actually considering giving it a try. Without the handmade Mystery books of course. I know my limits. And that is way beyond them.

We returned the overpriced trike because when it said it was adjustable, I didn't realize it was already on the biggest setting. And she was too big for it. So back to the store it went, even after we rode it in the street. Because I have no shame when it comes to Walmart's generous return policy. And instead of the trike I got her a real bike. Goodwill. Eight bucks. It has a bell! And she loves it.

I love it too. Especially after I peeled all the Disney Princess stickers off and made it way cuter. Shh, don't tell her.

And she's gotten so good at it in only a few days that she actually needs a helmet now. At first it was just pretending to peddle and us pushing her along but now she can all out ride. We got her helmet down from storage (that she wore exactly one time almost two years ago and hated it) and it didn't fit.

So guess who got a new Winnie the Pooh helmet. The most adorable little boy in the world, that's who.

Ted and I, in an attempt to get out of the house with the kids more often in an effort to keep from losing our minds and do fun family things, have been talking about bike riding. We borrowed a bike trailer from a friend who is trying to sell it to see if we want to buy it. Both kids loved it and now we want to take it on some of the trails around town.

Except that both of our bikes are in bad shape. Ted's is done for. And I have no idea how much mine would cost to get up to speed. I guess that's what you get since they've had to be stored outside for four of the last five years. So our little attempt at getting out of the house with the kids is quickly turning into a several hundred dollar venture. Ugh.

What are the odds of finding me and Ted new bikes at Goodwill for eight bucks? Probably less than likely than my Disney Princess steal. So this family fun idea is still in the negotiation phase.

Since we're being responsible parents and making Hannah wear a helmet (when we buy her a new one that is), we have to actually wear ours to set a good example and not be big fat hypocrites. I'm not gonna lie, I feel like a huge loser. Am I the only one who thinks helmets are just so.... uncool? I mean, protecting my head from brain injury-obviously a plus. But we never ever wore them growing up so it just feels strange now.

Helmets are important. Especially for riding with your eyes closed.

 And even though the temps were still above 90 today, I actually thought it felt pretty amazing outside. The humidity has finally let up and that subtle hint of fall is almost in the air. Like, still several hundred miles and probably another two months away kind of almost. But I was able to ride a bike down my street at 6:30 without dying. So I'm just gonna be grateful for that.

Although a Missouri fall sounds lovely right now. With leaves that actually turn colors and jackets with my jeans.

Ask me how I feel when I'm laying on the beach later this month though.

I think when you devote three paragraphs to the weather it's time to sign off.

And yes,  I know that a paragraph needs more than two sentences.

30 Years!

Happy Anniversary to my mom and dad today! 30 years together and they still act like newlyweds. The most important example they've shown to me and Ted is how to be each other's best friend. They truly enjoy each other and love spending time together. They may bicker from time to time, but I can honestly say I've never seen my parents fight (they probably waited until I was in bed...)

Thanks for your commitment to marriage mom and dad! An inspiration to many!

Sunday Funday

Sunday evening is my favorite time to blog. Probably because Sundays are generally semi-relaxing, spent with my husband and kids, and full of simple, everyday memories I want to record. Today was no exception. Allow me to document it in details that only I care about.

We haven't set an alarm clock for Mass in months because Hannah always makes sure we're up in plenty of time with her screams. But this morning, she actually slept in! Which gave us only 40 minutes to eat, nurse, change, and drive to Mass. We managed to walk in during the processional song. Not too shabby. I had about .3 seconds to pick out an outfit so I grabbed an old favorite rather than trying to come up with something creative.

Just turn your head to the left. There. That solves the problem of me having no earthly idea how to rotate this picture with my friend's Mac. It's really better this way, the vertical version of the picture makes me look really frumpy (someday I will teach my husband how to take a picture without squatting down and somehow making me look shorter than I really am.) (and another day we will finally buy a computer so I can upload pictures from our good camera instead of texting them to my email from my non-smart phone.)

The clothes:
Shirt: Kohls. Probably 8+ years ago.
Skirt: Charlotte Russe via consignment. The zipper's broken so I can't tuck my shirt into it.
Shoes: Maurices. Also forever ago.

Kid's behavior:
Hannah: A. Please, please, please let her always be this good in Mass.
Paul: A+ He sat happily in my lap until he fell asleep.

I needed something I could nurse in today because I had to work in the nursery immediately after Mass and it stretched into Paul's lunch time. Since we have Paul on a pretty consistent "routine", I'm usually able to wear whatever I want to Mass since I'm about 95% sure he wont need to nurse. Neither of those last two statements were particularly relevant to this blog post.

Some actual noteworthy tidbits from our day include:

Baking a blackberry pie.

Reading Good Dog Fergus at least seven times in a row. Ok, that's not noteworthy either.

Eating breakfast for dinner because we didn't have anything else in the house. It was amazing though. Homemade hash-browns with potatoes we grew ourselves. Fried in lard that we rendered ourselves. Homemade pancakes. Three varieties actually. Blueberry (picked ourselves). Blackberry (picked ourselves). And banana (purchased at the store by, yes, ourselves). And to balance out all the homegrown, homepicked goodness, some sausage in plastic wrap from Publix.

I'll try not to mention how badly I was craving a giant glass of raw milk.

Bad. Really bad. I miss dairy really really badly.

And now, a poop story. I know that most of the readers of this blog have their own hellacious poop stories and probably think they don't need to read mine. But how many of your poop stories end with absolutely no poop on the baby's clothes and tons of poop on your boobs???

Paul pooped in his swing while we were eating dinner and I was unaware of this event. After dinner I scooped him up and and grabbed the pacifier that had fallen into the seat. As I'm walking across the room with Paul I simultaneously patted his butt as I placed the pacifier into my bra. (The pacifier always sits nicely between my cleavage. It's the only safe place from the paci-obsessed, germ infested two year old.) When I sat down to nurse him I realized that my hand was covered in poop. So covered that it was in every crevice of my wedding ring. When I patted his butt I must have squeezed poop all over my hand and his pacifier. I then shoved the poop covered pacifier into my bra with the poop covered hand. After I cleaned myself off, I changed Paul and was astonished that not a single dab of poop had graced his clothing. I, on the other hand, had poop on my hand, my ring, my t-shirt, my undershirt, my bra, my nursing pads, my neck, and my boobs!

And no time for a shower because were headed out the door to do this.

"Tie-ats!" Our friends keep them at our house and told us we could take them out whenever we wanted. We finally took Hannah tonight and she loved it. She wouldn't stop talking the entire way there. "Kayaks on roof mommy's car! Hannah go kayak in lake! Go beach! Row row boat!" (or "Tia-ats on woof mommy's tar. Hannah doh tie-at in yate! Doh beats! Woah Woah boat!")

They just paddled around the lake near our house (lake. beach. same thing to Hannah.) for a few minutes while I nursed Paul and took pictures. But again, these cellphone ones are all I can do for now. Ted said she just kept saying "Go faster!" ("Doh dasser!") and "Daddy find gator!" ("Daddy nine day-dor!")

When we were about to leave a lady pulled up and got out of her car with a turtle. She told us that she just "rescued him off the highway from getting hit by a semi" and told us she wanted to help him get far out into the water so he wouldn't get run over by the trucks near the ramp. Ted offered to paddle him out into the deep so she put him on the kayak. She then watched to make sure Ted actually took him far out and didn't just drop him off by the ramp. She struck up a conversation with me (and Paul) and somehow we got on the subject of my family in Oklahoma and Missouri and she asked if they were near the recent tornados. I told her that they were very, very close to the damage and she immediately asked, "Are their pets ok???"

Yes, lady. Their pets are ok. Now go back to your PETA meeting.

The turtle fell off before Ted got it very far out but she seemed satisfied enough. Hannah's first kayak trip and rescuing a turtle all in one day.

It was a good Sunday.

Annnnd, because I'm selfish with the knowledge of the awesome readers of this blog, two questions. Anyone have a good fake tanner they recommend? One that is very cheap and won't make me look orange. I told Ted I wanted to get some for my awful white legs and he said "I don't think you're that vain." But I definitely am. So give me your suggestions to make this Floridian look like she actually gets out in the sun.

Number two. Does anyone know if a device exists that allows you to put an SD card into a laptop that doesn't have an SD card port? My sister has offered us her old Mac (!!!!). We would have to upgrade a few things on it and buy a new battery and power cable, so it's not free but still cheap. But it doesn't have an SD port and I really need it for uploading pictures because it already takes long enough without having to plug a cord in every time. Do the good folks at Apple make a USB/SD card stick thing? If they don't, they should. And give me royalties for the idea.

I linked up with Fine Linen and Purple and would have linked up with Grace if she had posted her Sunday Best before me.

What I Got for Mother's Day

For Mother's Day...

I got to wake up to my little girl being brought into my bed saying "Happy Mommy!" 

I got to go to Mass with my family and snuggle my little boy in the carrier. I got to listen to 3% of the homily while said little boy fussed and cried. I got feel like an idiot for forgetting the pacifier at home.

I got tears in my eyes when I stood for the Mother's blessings. Tears because I felt so honored and happy to be a mother. Tears because I remember the pain of not knowing if it would ever happen. And tears of anger because so many I love are not able to stand for that blessing.

I got to pack for the beach while he played with this

for an hour!

I got to listen to Hannah ask me over and over again if I was ready to go to the beach. "Weady beats mommy?" Then I got to listen to her scream after being in the car for more than 30 minutes. I got a dead arm from holding the pacifier in Paul's mouth so he could sleep all of 20 minutes for the four and a half total hours we spent driving.

But then I got to see this

and the hellacious car trip was worth it.

I got really, really, really frustrated when Ted someone opened our expensive beach umbrella straight into the wind and broke it. Then I got really worried we would have to leave immediately since I couldn't shield Paul from the sun. But then I got to watch someone Ted use pliers and fishing line to tie the entire umbrella back together and get it to work so we could stay and play. I think I fell in love with him all over again.

I got to swing my girl around in the ocean.

I got to relax with my boy in the shade.

Knucks.

I got to breath a sigh of relief every time he caught her. I got to listen to her laughter and screams every time she was thrown.

I got to laugh when she took off running to pet a dog

and laid down in the sand and smiled while pretending to be asleep.

I got to hang out with the girl who made me a mommy

and marvel at how amazing she is.

I got to sing Josh Turner with Ted on the car ride home loud enough to drown out the crying children. I got to laugh with him when they seemed to be taking turns screaming just to be certain that there wouldn't be a moment of peace for their parents. I got really nervous about our 14 (20??) hour trek to Missouri this summer.

I got to do baths and bedtime routine and laundry and dishes all waaaaay past bedtime. Because I'm still the mom, even though it's Mother's Day. And we both decided we had had enough beach with two kids to last us at least six months.

For Mother's Day, I got one of the most exhausting days of my life.

Naming Paul

Unlike choosing the name for Hannah, I didn't have any say whatsoever in choosing Paul's name. Ted had it picked out before he even met me. I remember the first time I ever heard it. We were sitting on the edge of the fountain at Missouri State. Our freshman year. Not officially "dating" yet-but definitely in love. Even if we didn't know it yet.

He told me that he wanted to name his first son Paul Joseph. I was relieved that I liked the name because I remember hugging him that evening at the fountain and thinking, "This is the man I'm going to marry."

Paul. 

Ted's maternal grandfather whom he loved so much. Ted grew up right next door to him and Grandpa was like a second father. Smoking in the van while he drove Ted around and telling him not to tell Grandma. Watching baseball together on his tiny kitchen TV and offering Ted a Diet Pepsi every time. He was 6 foot, 6 inches tall and proudly wore the nick-name "Pic". As tall and skinny as a tooth pic.

Ted wanted to name his first son after the grandpa he loved so much. Sadly, Grandpa Paul died a few months before our wedding. Our Paul won't get to meet him until heaven, but I'm positive that he'll still learn to love the great man he's named after.

We started trying to conceive our sweet son just months after Pope Benedict declared it the Year of St. Paul (June 29th 2008-June 29th 2009). As the year drew to a close and we realized how much we would struggle with infertility, I prayed and prayed for my Paul to come before the year came to an end. It wasn't meant to be. And we were meant to welcome Hannah first. But Paul did come eventually. And I hope he will come to love St. Paul and his writings, even though he missed the jubilee by about five years.

Joseph. 

Ted's paternal grandfather was Edmund Joseph. His dad is John Joseph. And Ted is Ted Joseph. Ted was adamant about his son having the middle name Joseph to carry on the tradition. There were a few times I tried to convince Ted to have the first name be Joseph-but it was an argument I knew I could never win. And now I'm glad he stood strong-because I learned after we chose Paul's middle name that it was also the middle name of both my maternal and paternal grandfathers! Thomas Joseph and James Joseph. It was just meant to be.

Paul's Brother.

We haven't forgotten about the sweet twin who we lost so early in pregnancy. We waited to name that soul until after Paul was born-choosing to name him the same gender (although we really have no idea.) I knew I wanted Michael from the very beginning. St. Michael the Archangel is one of my favorites. I love that he is my constant defender and protector. I guess I kind of associated his protection with the prayers we are surely receiving from our sweet baby in heaven. So Michael just seems appropriate for his first name. And for his middle name-well I was really hoping the new pope wouldn't pick something weird so we could name our son after him. The name our Holy Father chose is perfect for our son.

Michael Francis.

We love you both so much.

St. Paul, pray for us.
St. Joseph, pray for us.
St. Michael-the Archangel, pray for us.
St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us.

A friend of mine made this rosary for Paul's Baptism. Deep red beads in honor of Divine Mercy Sunday and a St. Joseph medal attached. It's such a treasure. She is so talented!

Check our her shop-Trendy Traditions.

Easter Best

Happy Easter! What a great day. We made it to Mass in time to get a seat-our usual seat in the second row actually. Both kids made it through Mass without us having to fight the standing crowd to take them to the back. Alleluia!

Because we're crazy, we decided to go out for brunch after Mass. Since we were on borrowed time from Hannah's nap and Paul's need for nourishment, we ended up at Steak and Shake. But only after their breakfast menu was over. So we had steakburgers for brunch in our Sunday best. It wasn't until we left that we remembered that we were grilling burgers for Easter dinner with friends as well. We can't get away from Easter cow, no matter how hard we try I guess.

When we got back from Mass the kids' (so weird to type a plural....) Easter basket were waiting for them. Hannah was so excited to see the "edds" in her basket that getting her down for a nap without hysterics was impossible. She consoled herself by taking two eggs to bed with her and reassuring herself from her crib that she would get to go egg hunting when she woke up. "Wake up, more edds."

And because, second to Jesus rising from the dead of course, the best part about Easter is what you wore-I'm joining in three link-ups to show off our Sunday best.

The fam-can't believe there's four of us.

Nor can I believe that this was the first of only two self-timer pics.

The mama.

Dress-some boutique brand, from a thrift store. 4 bucks!

Sweater-freebie from a clothing exchange!

Tank top-Maurices, cut just below the boobs to make the outfit nursable

Shoes-some big shoe store, get used to seeing them

Pearls-cheapies, but I had to complete the 50s housewife look

The little man.

And the hunter.

Linking up with Grace, FLAP, and Practicing Catholic on this Easter evening. 

And praying that the joy of the Resurrection will permeate through me this week (my kids deserve it!). I am so abundantly blessed.

Five Days with Paul

Home

Paul was born Monday afternoon and we left the hospital Tuesday evening. I had mixed feelings. I was ready to get home and sleep in my own bed-without any nurses to wake me up every hour to take my temperature needlessly for the millionth time. The downside, however, meant no more Percocet.

Male
Ted has two older sisters. I have two younger sisters. Other than the baby boys I babysat years ago, I have very little experience in this realm of testosterone. When Paul was born the very first thing I saw was his man parts. In all their glory. No announcement was needed-the whole room knew we had a boy.

Diapers
I've only been peed on once so far. Not that big of a feat considering I've really only changed about four diapers (love my sweet husband!). Ted observed me wiping Paul down after a poop and shouted, "Easy easy!" Apparently those things are sensitive. I just thought he was screaming because of the cold wipe. Lesson learned-treat those things with care.

Little guy had two poops his first day of life. And already this morning has pooped four times. We've had a few blowouts and even one down to the socks. I'm so proud :)

Nursing
Good poop means good milk! My milk came in Wednesday night and he loves it. I do not, however, love his latch. Tight little mouth that he refuses to open wide. Sore nipples that are getting munched on every two hours. We're experimenting with the football hold and it seems to be helping.

Ice Cream

We had an ice cream party to celebrate his arrival. It was Hannah's first time eating ice cream (coconut milk ice cream is expensive!) and she loved it. She did not, however, like the fact that we said Happy Birthday Paul. It is definitely still her birthday in her world.

Recovery
Let me just say this-recovering with a tear and recovering without a tear are two totally different experiences. What? You think I meant that I have a bad tear right now? Oh  no. That would be my 7 pound little girl who ripped me up and caused me so much postpartum pain. My 9 1/2 pound chunker? A teeny tiny tear that barely required one stitch. Life is good. I can sit on chairs, squat, and don't have to tend to my wounds a hundred times a day.

Sleep
I know they say to wake a newborn up every three hours to nurse. But when a 9 pound baby sleeps for 5 straight hours.....I'm gonna let it slide. He is having some burping difficulty at night-which of course is gone during the day. We've spent 1-2 hours each night just trying to get him to burp and be comfortable. But after we get it out of him, he's sleeping pretty well.

God blessed us with a miracle on our first night home-Hannah slept through the night! This hasn't happened in over a month. It only lasted one night, but she's still doing better than she has been in recent weeks. The second night we were home we tried to move the rocker out of her room into our room so I could nurse in it at night. This resulted in a total meltdown that left both of us in tears. She still needs her rocker to be snuggled in. I still need to snuggle her. We're just not ready for that yet. My back will have to deal with nursing in the bed for the time being.

Siblings

Hannah is adjusting pretty well. My parents just left this morning and Ted's mom is coming this afternoon-so she has not lacked for attention. She likes Paul, but isn't obsessed with him. She runs to him when he cries and tells me "mama, nurse!"  She gives him kisses, turns on his noise machine for him, and has only whacked him once.

Birth
I'm still processing everything from Paul's birth. It was different than what I hoped for-but not necessarily in a bad way. Very, very different from Hannah's and I'm a little slow to let it all sink in. I know that writing it out will help me figure out my feelings-it always does.

Snuggles

I forgot how sweet they are smashed up against you in a Moby Wrap.

Introducing Paul Joseph!

We have a BOY!

We welcomed our son Paul into the world at 1:41 pm Monday, March 4th. He weighed 9 pounds, 9 ounces and  measured in at 21 3/4 inches long. We're all doing great and are so relieved he's finally here!

2012 in 12 Photos

I started a "2012 Reflection" post about three times but was never able to finish it. And I know January is almost over-so I'm a little late to the reflection party. But this link-up was too fun not to join in. And really, my exhausted pregnancy brain should probably keep any reflections to pictures anyway.

January: Moving

February: One Year Old

March: Life at the Beach (our third time in as many months!)

April: Meat

May: I don't have a single picture from the entire month of May! How did that happen? I guess I'll just have to do two in June-it'll still be 12 total right?

June: Family in Missouri

June: BABY!

July: Homeless

August: Still Homless

September: NOT HOMELESS!

October: Monkey

November: A Sweet Getaway

December: Snow!

Here's to a beautifully photographed 2013!