Homeschooling—with Mojo

Hey! Here's something to check out. You don't have to be a homeschooler to enjoy it. I've been watching these late at night while I nurse Rafe (and knit, of course) and finding out all those things I wondered about germs and DNA and evolution. I'm still in the biology section but I plan to go through chemistry, calculus, physics and all those things that scared me in high school. Except statistics. I'm not a monster.

Hedgerow Mitts

A very practical lady I once knew said, "Knitting is for people who sit around all day". I think she meant it pejoratively, but here I am with a swiftly growing, ravenous Rafe nursing night and day and we're having a ball. (Or should I say a skein? Hahaha)

Knitting and nursing go together just dandy, in this mama's opinion—Rafe and I look into each other's eyes, he gets his sustenance, and I get mitts.

The pattern is the beautiful hedgerow mitts. I used sweater weight instead of sock yarn, so mine are a bit clunkier than Amy Ripton's elegant version. I also had to adjust the pattern a bit.

But they're stilll awesome. Fingerless gloves are the way to go for all the driving I do, not to mention tying shoelaces, wiping noses, zipping zippers, and putting mittens (back) on little hands...



Oh! Check out the background—after talking about it for five years, I'm finally painting the house! Paint! What a joy! Goodbye, icy mint green....

....hello warm smoke blue!

More pictures to come, after Latin Mass day and Advent festivities tomorrow. Will is part of a little choral group that gets together at our house for practice and brunch on Sundays. Fun but busy.

Happy Advent, for tomorrow.

Come Lord Jesus, 

and do not delay!

These days

 Sanding, sawing, headgear, and Martinmas Day lanterns are just a few of the things we're really into these days.

A whole lot of love

There's nothing more beautiful, aside from watching your baby become himself, than watching your baby become part of the family. While the love isn't always gentle love, it's always sincere, passionate, and brotherly.

the thick of things

 These days I'm marveling at how beautifully each child has taken on his new role. Willie protects Raphael from errant blocks (and from Matthias' over-zealous, slobbery affection). Hugh cuddles Raphael in bed nearly every morning for about half an hour while I get everyone else up and going. I can already see a special connection between the two. Matthias rocks the carseat when Raphael cries, makes faces, and rubs snot on keeps Rafe entertained.

These days, I'm taking everything slow. The weather is golden. Matthias and I spend a little time in the garden every day just potting around, while Rafe naps in the stroller drinking in oxygen and sunshine. We don't get too much done. I'm way behind on all my commitments, not to mention the laundry. But we have a whole lot of love.

All Hallows Eve

Matthias, 2010

Halloween 2011. There was so much mess and chaos and yelling that day, and the light was almost gone before I remembered to snap a picture for papa, who was still in Toronto missing all the fun. 

Hugh—"I forgot my helmet!" Willie—"Hugh, you won't be a saint if you freak out."

Yesterday, my sweet mother came for a surprise visit and whipped up a wig and some fringed ponchos for Willie, while helping Matthias through a midlife crisis, telling stories to Hugh, doing puzzles, making sewing cards, pressing leaves, and telling me the whole time that I am a wonderful mother and coping very well. 


The rest of the costumes we found in the costume box.

Hugh—"Yes, I will be a saint. I have a sword. See?" Willie—"No, Hugh. That sword's plastic."

Willie was an "Indian" for Halloween. He was also St. Joseph, a native Canadian saint and friend of the Canadian martyrs. Now I question his existence because I find no mention of him on Wikipedia. Did I dream him up?


Hugh was St. Martin of Tours, patron of soldiers. (It's all about the armour). 


I got fearful at the last minute that we'd get in trouble for saying "Indian" so I told Willie he had to say "native".


Lady/man at the door—"What a nice little costume. What are you?"
Willie, quavering, "I'm an....Indian...." `

Hugh, firmly, "He's a native." 

Everyone thought it was pretty funny and ribbed me for trying to be all politically correct.


Matthias missed halloween altogether, and as a result is a happy and healthy person this morning 

I felt twinges of guilt about this, especially after seeing these adorable pictures from last year.

 

But the great thing about yearly festivals is...there's always next year, isn't there?