A cup of tea at midnight

Sometimes, no matter how tired you are, you just can't sleep. 

What will it be like when we are in heaven and never make wrong choices, never get ill, never get injured? What will we do with our time? It is hard to imagine the body never getting weary, but even more so to imagine the mind never getting tired of eternity. I hope there is sleep in heaven. Good sleep is truly blessed. 

Save us, Lord, while we are awake; protect us while we sleep; that we may keep watch with Christ and rest with him in peace.

Keep watch!

Sleep.

Be at peace.

Amen.

Gifts

How to Host a Birthday Party for 12 Teenage Girls Without Losing Your Mind.

If you know the answer, send me a note. In the mean time, I tried to keep it as simple as possible, but still, my evening ended with my wishing I could just crawl into bed at 7:30 p.m. But instead, of course, I stayed up past midnight re-watching season four of Downton Abbey with my No. 1. We made it halfway through the season finale before we started snoring. Getting up this morning was rough. Ugh.

Birthday Table in Green.
Always a challenge to decorate for a birthday in the middle of Advent/Christmas.
I used the ceramic piece No. 2 made over the summer as the centerpiece.

Since it looked a bit like a tree stump, I was inspired to add one of my gnomes and
a trail of candy making a path over the tabletop.

The party was at home, in the afternoon, only one girl is sleeping over, no fancy activity, just two simple holiday crafts and a new dvd (The Giver) for back up. Can twelve teenage girls really get bored with all the talking and eating they do?

Experience says, no. They didn't need the video. They really didn't need the craft activities. They talked and laughed and talked and talked and took photos of each other for so long I wondered if they were ever going to get hungry. But they were and they ate a lot and enjoyed the snow globe craft also.

Making mason jar snow globes mainly from items I had on hand.
Like all those mason jars I bought, intended for canning that just never happened. Ahem.

Batman in a snowstorm!
I asked the girls to bring their own plastic figurines.

I took the menu plan from this inspiring post on My Little Norway. So, hot dogs with potato chips.

Yes, I needed inspiration to come up with that idea. Reading that blog post actually relieved my anxious mind. I decided to stick to obvious, simple foods rather than try and impress myself and the girls with something fancy. Simple and basic is what I need these days. Hot dogs, buns, chips, Coca-Cola, some chocolates, cookies from a tin, store-bought red velvet mini cupcakes, put on a tiered stand with strawberries, and frozen mini eclairs for a fancy dessert instead of birthday cake.

Ketchup and mustard in little jars on a tray is just fancier than putting plastic bottles on the table.

Mini cupcakes and strawberries for dessert.

What were they most excited about? The strawberries!

Now to go do a second round of cleaning up glitter from my floor.

Let it go and go glitter.
My son made the one on the bottom left. Isn't it cute?
I cut up some of last year's Christmas cards for the kids to use.

Breakfast on a tray for the sleepy girls that stayed up late talking.

St. Nicholas Day

Last night, the kids put out their shoes with wish lists or letters inside and wake up on 12/6 to find them replaced with treats to eat and a small gift. I found these printable letter forms on Mr. Printables that are really simple and cute. A lot of other cool free stuff on the site, like the modern advent calendar made of tiny houses.

This year I kept it simple for Nicholas gifts: a chocolate orange, a peppermint stick, a chocolate biscuit, a new hairbrush and a pair of winter/xmas socks for the girls and one of those water pinball games for my son.

Boots outside her bedroom door.
In the hallway is nicer than leaving them on the front porch, where
there might be slugs or other unwelcome wet weather effects.

He loved the water game and all his candy, plus the hairbrush.

But didn't care for the orange-flavored chocolate after all.
Win for Mom!

The nice thing about my kids knowing that it is me who plays Santa is that they come thank me for the gifts. My younger two, ages 8 and 11, were really at the age where they wanted the truth acknowledged and couldn't live with the sort of teasing joking about Santa seeing what they are doing, that kind of thing. They are happier now that they know what they perceived to be the truth is the truth after all. For my son, I think this is part of his literal-mindedness from autism.

I tell them that I gave the gifts in honor of St. Nicholas and read them his stories, but yes, I did play St. Nick. And they can do it too...which should kind of be the point of the whole thing, right? To inspire our children to give freely and lovingly to others?

Making a wish...

...for a happy fifteenth year

1st Week of Advent {pretty, funny, happy, real}

Like Mother, Like Daughter is one of my favorite blogs. When I want to read something inspiring and see something beautiful, I head over there to browse the new posts and re-read the archived ones. Leila and family are amazing folk. Every Thursday they host a round up of posts based on the theme, "pretty, funny, happy, real." So here is my post for the first week of Advent. 

Kirby enjoys Advent too.

1. Pretty: The Advent wreath on the dining table. Our parish has a tradition of making advent wreaths out of tree rounds, branches and pinecones, cut from the cedars on the property around the church. Since the candles burn quickly, after a few hours of letting the Advent wreath burn, I transfer the flame to this pillar candle nearby, so we can enjoy the candlelight all week.

I took this photo from inside because I'm hiding from the kale.

2. Funny: The kale survived the week of snow and ice. Dang. Some kids hide their vegetables. I'm hiding from this one.

Pinging Pingu

3. Happy: My 11yo Ellie made this from a chocolate foil wrapper this morning. What makes me happier, the peppermint bark bells or the cute origami penguin? It's a toss up. ;)

Sigh. The joy of home ownership.

4. Real: Whoops. The spigot was left in the "on" position even though the watering system for the garden was turned off. Water in pipe. Freezing. Expansion. Thawing. Boom! Fortunately, I was sitting nearby when I heard the ominous sound of water gushing out and got it turned off quickly. And fortunately it was just the exterior piping that cracked and broke, not the interior house pipes.

Winter Saints

This December cluster of saints' days, Nicholas on 12/6, Guadalupe on 12/12, Lucia on 12/13 and also Immaculate Conception on 12/8: I find it hard to feel like we've appreciated them all equally. They are so close together and two of them are Marian and only four days apart.

My dining room sideboard this year.

We have gotten pretty good about St. Nicholas day since we started the shoes tradition when the oldest was little.

This tradition started for us in German preschool. The apple, orange, chocolate, nuts, peppermint stick and a small present are exchanged for the letters to St. Nick found in their clean shoes. 

Immaculate Conception is one of my daughter's birthdays, so it has always involved both going to Mass and a birthday party for us.

Always a birthday princess.

December 8
The Immaculate Conception of Mary

Our Lady of Guadalupe, over the years, has come to mean a day to show appreciation for our local Hispanic community, honoring their devotion to Mary, participating in the festivities.

Our parish church in 2008. So pretty with the trees and roses.

St. Lucia though, the observance of this day has been eluding us, despite the many years of reading picture books written about her.

Picture Books and Kids: things I have more of than the average American woman.

I have been learning about the Ember Days for a few years now and the winter ember days are set to follow after St. Lucy. So this year, they will be Wednesday, 12/17, Friday 12/19, and Saturday, 12/20.

So far, we've never managed to get up at before dawn to serve saffron buns.
But one year we made Pillsbury orange rolls from a can. 

I am thinking of St. Lucy with her candle crown as our guide into the second half of Advent, the ember days of preparation, repentance, confession, before Gaudete Sunday.

St. Lucy and Star Boy surrounded by lazy non-sprouting lentils that were supposed to be making a nice green field of Christmas manger hay.

We are not a family of Italian, Sicilian or Scandinavian heritage, but Lucy lights the way toward Christmas for us also.

The winter sun.

The stars we bring inside.

Leading us to the manger.

Leading us to the Baby.
Gloria!

Temper, temper

TEMPERANCE was the inspirational word I chose for 2014, Not in the abstain-from-alcohol meaning, though I generally do not partake. I have maybe a glass of wine or two a year. I just don't care for the feeling, and since the last time I had two glasses of wine with one meal I got a whopper of a migraine, it reinforced my general very-little-alcohol habit.

I chose Temperance because I noticed a pattern in my life of going from extreme to extreme and finally, at 42, I realized that this was an exhausting way to live.

I painted this.
It's nothing spectacular.
But I have looked at it a lot this year and it made me think.
The idea was that somewhere between the extremes (the blazing sun and the frozen mountains)
was the green valley of moderation and contentment.
Deep, huh?

One thing that I came up with over the year of thinking about moderation was this phrase: "I refuse to be shocked by some things or outraged by almost anything." This new mantra of mine was in response to observing the never-ending cycle of provoking news stories. Unaccompanied children at the border, terrorists beheading Americans, the persecution of mid-east Christians, the Ferguson death and riots, Kim Kardashian's scandalous photos...the list goes on and is added to weekly, if not daily.

Random vacation photo.
Was it only a few days ago I was enjoying 80 degree weather for the holiday? 

Who has time to pay adequate attention to all these stories, even the worthy ones? Who can care about all of it and still function in their daily life?

My son's school has a behavior program that talks about being proactive versus reactive (it's a Stephen Covey thing). Why spend all my mental energy and hours of the day reacting to the news? I am not a paid journalist. I can moderate my consumption of news. I try to pay attention to the news that is most important to me here, now, locally, immediately, rather than getting caught up in the national or international outrage of the day. Temperance.

Still not Winter, but feels like it.
This is supposed to be a mild and warm winter according to the almanac.

"Moderation in all things," is attributed to Aristotle. Be temperate in your eating, your shopping, your emotions, your physical pleasures, thinking of others before your self, have balance of work and leisure...the earthly loves and pursuits. The modern amendment is "moderation in all things, including moderation." I can see the point of that. There are some things you just have to throw yourself into. Don't be lukewarm in your love of God,

Temperance comes from the verb "temper," meaning to regulate, rule, govern, manage, and also from the Latin noun "tempus," which is time or season. As in, "to everything there is a season." Unlike the 19th Century temperance movement, which called for all alcohol to be removed from public society, true temperance is about allowing all things in their proper place, time, and quantity. Moderation requires self-control, which is harder than going to the extremes.

For instance, you could simply give the cake to someone else
rather than going to the extreme of throwing the hated cake into the frozen lake.
Joking.
I just love Edward Gorey.

Despite avoiding following the news too closely, I do enjoy reading the daily newspaper (or at least skimming it) and check out various news sites for interesting news. Here are two New York Times articles I found really enjoyable about two subjects I find fascinating, miniature houses and store window displays.

This man has a fascinating collection of Architectural miniatures all throughout his home, most of them displayed on columns of some type. I would love to see them in person, but failing that, I might buy his self-published book about his hundreds of tiny houses. If I had the room, my house would be filled with miniature houses. Maybe my grown up kids will return some day to find their bedrooms all converted into museum-like display spaces.

Speaking of miniatures...any excuse to share a new photo of my own humble doll house.
This room was originally a bathroom, due to the high window for doll bathing privacy.
As there are only 4 rooms in the house, I didn't want to waste one on a toilet, so it's becoming a nursery.
I just bought this tiny japanese dressing cabinet and lamp from etsy.
St. Elizabeth and baby John are waiting for the cradle and change table to arrive.
The red wooden couch and chair were meant for the living room, but turned out to be 3/4" scale,
so I will move them upstairs to the tin dollhouse that is not an heirloom and the right size.

Some day I would love to travel to NYC to see the spectacle of  the New York department store holiday windows. The one I enjoyed most is not pictured in this article, but is at Bergdorf Goodman's display of Arts themed windows. It's just so fascinating that humans spend all this time creating these elaborate, yet very temporary, works of art.

MUSIC at Bergdorf Goodman, 2014

This is certainly an example of excess. Art maybe is one of those things that can portray excess without making us indulge in it. Every one who looks at it gets to enjoy the beauty of this exercise in over-the-top fabulousness. There's some correlation there to be made about the type of gluttony that has to do with hoarding food for one self...but I'll just let the thought dangle and move on. Kids are coming home soon and you get the picture, right?

Finally, The Power of Delay is an article by Leo Babuta that I found very helpful in describing something I have been learning over the past year of cultivating temperance. Sometimes, the best choice is to wait, to let the situation lie alone for a bit, see how things shake out, rather than feeling pressured to react quickly, do something now. This has been useful in dealing with both demanding kids and irrational adults. I have spent less energy trying to correct a situation right away and things worked out as I thought they would all along. In short, I gave up some anxiety over others making the decisions I wanted them to.

Other things shouldn't be delayed, like charity and showing love for God.
There's a fragment of a carol stuck in my head,
"Make haste to the stable now."
I can't find the exact tune, but this is similar.

O come, little children, O come one and all,

To Bethlehem haste, to the manger so small,

God's son for a gift has been sent you this night

To be your redeemer, your joy and delight.

He's born in a stable for you and for me,

Draw near by the bright gleaming starlight to see,

In swaddling clothes lying so meek and so mild,

And purer than angels the heavenly Child.

See Mary and Joseph, with love beaming eyes,

Are gazing upon the rude bed where He lies,

The shepherds are kneeling, with hearts full of love

While angels sing loud hallelujahs above.

Kneel down and adore Him with shepherds today,

Lift up little hands now and praise Him as they

Rejoice that a Saviour from sin you can boast,

And join in the song of the heavenly host.

A time to delay and a time to make haste. 

Temperance.

Keep Watch

First Sunday in Advent and St. Andrew's Day

I came home from a sunny and unusually warm thanksgiving holiday to icy roads and snow covered mountains. Our flight was delayed some and we ended up not arriving home until almost 1:30 a.m., so today was slow-going and I slept in til nearly 10:30 a.m. That doesn't happen often! I managed to get everyone fed, dressed and out the door by 2 p.m. and we did our Giving Tree shopping for the church and quickly ate a meal as we headed out to evening Mass.

The black ice and holiday weekend meant low numbers at this Mass, so I ended up being asked to be a eucharistic minister, something that happens only about once or twice a year, and No. 1 was asked to be a Lector. She did a great job and I nearly had an anxiety attack about serving Communion, but made it through. Keep watch! is what I remember of the Gospel. The homily was about not waiting until it is too late to show people love.

I noticed a woman in our parish wearing a lace veil but with denim jeans. We must be one of the few regions of the country where that makes sense. Almost every woman I know who wears a veil for Mass (and none of them are at our parish, most are online friends), wears it for Modesty, as part of feminine dress, so she's wearing a skirt or dress as well. I didn't want to put her on the spot about her choice, so I didn't ask her why the veil, why the jeans? Maybe it was simply too cold and she didn't have a clean skirt. But I could imagine wearing a veil with jeans implies something different; a heartfelt belief in God's true presence at Mass in Communion. It makes perfect sense to me anyhow.

After Mass, we came home and lit our Advent wreath, said the prayer for the week and I gave each of my kids their chocolate Advent calendars. We had a little wrangling over who got which design so I told each of them which I had picked for who and then they decided whether or not to accept my choice. The younger two ended up having to play rock, paper, scissors, to decide who got the calendar with gnomes and a giant tree house. The loser graciously accepted the decision and I complimented her on not losing her cool.

After that, we had our St. Andrew's Tea, which was just cocoa and thistle napkins around the advent wreath. We wrapped our Giving Tree gifts and I'll drive them over to the church when the streets have thawed out this week. No. 3 was especially good at wrapping; her gift looks really artistic. I'm afraid the poor kid who gets the stack of books she requested is going to be in for a lot of work to dig them out of the layers of paper and packing tape I used.

Kids are hoping for a late-start notice from the school district in the morning. Our area just isn't equipped to deal with icy roads and snow that lingers. So many hills and so few de-icing machines. I wouldn't mind a late start myself!

I started reading a new book on the airplane. I think this makes the fourth or fifth book I'm in the middle of. The Martian by Andy Weir is a straight up science fiction novel, with realistic science and surprisingly gripping narrative. I would never in a million years be able to understand the math and chemistry going on in this book, it's like the mother of all McGuyver situations, a Crichton adveture and a Sherlock style intricate puzzle to figure out, but it's totally enjoyable even without understanding all that. It's rare to find novels like this being printed now. The SF/F market is really heavily taken over by media tie-ins and fantasy novels (in science-fictiony settings or otherwise). This is more like classic Sci Fi of the 1950s but without the dated stereotypes and with up to date technology. I'm looking forward to finishing this one.

Life in Miniature

I am sure there is some psychological study out there that examines people who take up the hobby of miniatures. Basement generals with their thousands of tin soldiers. Train enthusiasts who fill the dining room with plywood and sawhorses holding up track and switches instead of cups and dishes. I suspect that having a keen interest in tiny replicas of real life things could probably be a coping mechanism for having a chaotic, stressful life. Even role-playing gamers with their lead orcs and wizards like the order of a game board and pieces all set up properly. Well, I now self-diagnose myself among the anxious ranks of control freaks looking for a world in which they actually have absolute power over what happens.

I'm 43 years old and I've started outfitting a dollhouse.

I've had doll houses before, actually quite a few of them. I had a Barbie house, with a pull-string elevator. A Fisher-Price house with plastic peg people and a front door bell that dinged. But these all disappeared in donation boxes by the time I was twelve. My mother though had a real dollhouse that her grandfather had built out of wood, with glass windows. At some point, it was passed on to me, but it was already in pretty bad shape, the paint had peeled, the floors had lost their linoleum and carpet but not the chunky remnants of glue holding it down. I played with it, but it was the wrong size for my dolls. Barbies were too big to fit in it and new dollhouse furniture was the wrong scale for the somewhat primitively but solidly constructed house.

When my own girls were little, I gave it a makeover with colorful paints and bought a houseful of IKEA modern doll furniture that the kids played with for years, although at some point I lost patience with the set's plastic pointy edgedness and donated that as well.

The doll house then sat empty for a few years, getting repurposed as a storage unit, a book case, a junk drawer of mislaid toys. My daughters grew out of playing house age and I moved the dollhouse into my bedroom, set it up on a small table and ignored it, wondering how long it would be before someone played with it again.

One day last week I was out Christmas shopping, looking for small gifts for girlfriends in a cute boutique. Among the holiday ornaments, I saw a tiny Christmas tree with bottle brush metallic green branches, dangly red and silver ornaments, and teeny tiny faux candles. Just the right size for my dollhouse, I thought.

I took it home, cleared out the half-forgotten Legos, comic books, tissues, and ribbon, and set the little tree in the empty dollhouse. It had a sort of Zen beauty, but I started thinking a fireplace would look good there, and a wreath over the door...maybe a couch and table with miniature oriental rug next?

In the middle of running kids to school, to choir, to swim, to the theater, to church, to band, answering emails, making plans, attending meetings, cleaning house, folding laundry, making beds, paying bills, remembering to make dinner and clean up...it has been a pleasant distraction to fill up my dollhouse, with beds that stay made and living rooms that are always tidy.

There are no deadlines and noisy demands in dollhouse world. Of course, I don't sit and make stories for my dolls the way I did when I was little. That would be weird! It's enough to just have it there to look at once in a while and contemplate the order and beauty of the little things in its little life.

Probably some famous dictators and tyrants collected miniatures. Probably I am turning into my grandmother. If I start replacing my comfy living room furniture with Victorian reproductions and lace doilies on every surface, somebody slap me. But in the mean time, I'm going over to etsy to contemplate the adorable options in miniature wooden bathtubs. And look, the little scale even has numbers! Ooooo....

Currently, the dollhouse is peopled by Bl. Imelda, St. Bernadette, and St. Therese. The girls have gotten too old for their little wooden saints but they'll always have a home here.