My Lil' Brother

Exhibit A

"MRI scans have recently discovered why our brains seem to go off-line during baby time; they shrink during the last month of pregnancy and don't plump up again for another three months."

- From Outsmarting the Female Fat Cell - After Pregnancy

Very reassuring information when you discover you have driven 10 miles in the wrong direction on a simple 20 mile trip on a road you used to drive on almost everyday in your pre-baby days. While it was comforting to me to know that I am not going crazy, it wasn't that comforting to the three small discontented children in the back of the van.

(Don't feel too bad for them - they eventually had a great time at George's Farm, i.e. George Washington's plantation, Mount Vernon, once we got there. Save your sympathy for their mother, whose brain cells are skinny and fat cells are plump. Boo.)

Sparkling Dinner Conversation

Andrew was working late tonight so I only had three fabulous dinner conversationalists at the table.

Jane: "Gagagaga...goo, goo."

Lucy: "Yucky....Yummy."

Paul: "What does bread look like?" (We were having garlic bread.)

Momma: "Bread looks like bread, Paul."

The child-genius ponders again: "What does bread look like?"

Momma repeats: "Bread looks like bread."

In awed tones, Paul: "Oooohhh...bread looks like bread."

Lucy: "HELP ME!!" Momma gives her more bread.

A few minutes later, Paul: "I think bread looks like cereal."

Momma: "I don't think so. It looks like bread."

Lucy: "Gooooood."

Paul: "Bread sounds like cereal."

Jane: "WHAAAAAA!"

Giving up any attempt at rational conversation, Momma: "Yes, bread may sound like cereal when you chew it."

Paul begins rambling: "Bread looks like...sounds like cereal...looks like...um...Momma...bread...cereal......can I have a brownie now?"

Magic and Myth

Abigail has a thought-provoking post today on a topic of never-ending interest to me - magic, myth, and fiction. The use of magic, real and imaginary, and the creation of myth has been a something for me to grapple with...when is it evil, when is it good, can it be both?

In her post, Abigail talks about putting her family on a "Magic Fast." I am in total agreement generally and was raised in a magic-free home. No Halloween, no horoscopes, no Bewitched, no Smurfs. My father had a few very powerful (and scary) experiences with the occult early in his conversion and personally knew individuals who had been lead deep into evil through seemingly harmless occult influences, like Bewitched. There would be no occult influences in his home.

At the same time, the first books I remember my father reading to me aloud was C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia. These books were a deeply formative part of my spiritual life and have only lead me closer and closer to Christ throughout my life. The same is true of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. And G.K. Chesterton, another author who has played a significant role in my spiritual development, also had a deep regard for the moral good of "fairy tales."

Now these fairy tales, or one could say myths, have lots and lots of "magic" in them. So while I am generally quick to shun anything "magical," the books and the authors that are at the center of much of my spiritual formation are jam-packed with wizards and witches and magic rings galore. Contradiction? Hypocrisy?

Maybe, but I tend not to think so. While I haven't formed all my thoughts fully on this subject, or at least not well enough to express my thoughts very well, I think there is a vast difference between "magic" and "myth." Chesterton, Tolkien, and later Lewis, all believed that faerie tales, or myths, were a pathway to real Truth, in the end a pathway to God. These authors understood myths, not as lies, but as a unique way that God gave us to encounter and express Truths we could not otherwise grasp in our fallen state.

As Chesterton states: "Imaginative does not mean imaginary. It does not follow that it is all what the moderns call subjective, when they mean false. Every true artist does feel, consciously or unconsciously, that he is touching transcendental truth; that his images are shadows of things seen through a veil. In other words, the natural mystic does not know that there is something there; something behind the clouds or within the trees; but he believes that the pursuit of beauty is the way to find it; that the imagination is some kind of incantation that can call it up."

Or as Lewis puts it: "The value of myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity’… If you are tired of the real landscape, look at it in a mirror. By putting bread, gold, horse, apple, or the very roads into a myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it. As long as the story lingers in our mind, the real things are more themselves. This book (Tolkein’s LOTR) applies the treatment not only to bread or apple but to good and evil, to our endless perils, our anguish, and our joys. By dipping them in myth we see them more clearly."

In fact, it was through this understanding of myth as a pathway to Truth that Tolkien eventually helped C.S. Lewis to convert to Christianity. Building on a philosophy of myth that saw all mythology as a sometimes shaky, but real building towards Truth, Tolkien posited to Lewis that the Gospels, the story of Jesus Christ, was Myth become Reality. The story of the "dying god" had come true. Joseph Pearce, a Catholic biographer of Tolkien, states it well:

"Whereas the pagan myths were manifestations of God expressing Himself through the minds of poets, using the images of their "mythopoeia" to reveal fragments of His eternal truth, the true myth of Christ was a manifestation of God expressing Himself through Himself, with Himself, and in Himself. God, in the Incarnation, had revealed Himself as the ultimate poet who was creating reality, the true poem or true myth, in His own image. Thus, in a divinely inspired paradox, myth was revealed as the ultimate realism."

The Truth found in myths is a far way from magic. As Tolkien wrote, "Faerie itself may perhaps most nearly be translated by Magic—but it is magic of a peculiar mood and power, at the furthest pole from the vulgar devices of the laborious, scientific, magician." As Rolland Hein in Christian Mythmakers writes, "Faerie differs from ordinary magic in that it possesses an organic or natural air. The magic of the magician is manipulative and crude, motivated by the desire to wield power over nature; that which enchants induces an exultation in the rightness of life, creates joy, and issues in humility. The atmosphere of myth is indispensable to portraying it. Fantasies that evoke this sense take us into a secondary world in which we experience escape, recovery, and consolation. "

The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings and numerous other "fairy tales" may have magical creatures within their pages, but they are not magic, but myth. Through the art of story-telling, these authors are attempt to create myth to lead us to the Truth, not away from it. And I think they have been successful - at least for me. The "magic" of these stories did not replace God, but brought me into a deeper knowledge and love for Him.

The Weekly Headliner

Congratulations to Grandpa Henry, author of last week's winning caption!

"Chocolate makes us holy! Do you see our halos?"

Here's this week's challenge from our recent visit to the Market Square in Old Town:

Give me a caption!

Truth in Advertising

Check out this great commercial for the Catholic Church. After seeing so many gret commericals by the ol' LDS, it is good to see such great work by a Catholic group. For Heaven's sake (hahaha), we have such a great product, you know, Truth and Goodness and Unconditional Love in Jesus Christ, that it shouldn't be too hard of a sell.

(HT: Crunchy Con)

Taking Care of Business

Paul joined his daddy at work yesterday morning as part of "Take Your Kids to Work Day." He was very excited, especially about wearing "daddy shoes" and carrying his "work bag."

When asked by one of Andrew's co-workers what he was going to do with his daddy at work, Paul promptly replied, "Make money." Paul must be unaware that his daddy does not work in finance, but for the government. Which of course makes no money, just takes yours.

When further questioned about what he was going to do with this money, Paul explained, "Put it in my pocket." Mommy's little saver.

Mommy and the little girls showed up at lunch time to make an appearance and pick-up Paul from his hard day's work. When I arrived, Paul excitedly informed me that he had two girlfriends. Fast worker. Paul obviously hasn't heard about not mixing business and pleasure.

A Thing of Beauty

After growing up in a family of nine, it is only with three children that I finally feel like we really have a family. Which means I'm really running a household now. While my mother offered me a wonderful example of a true housewife, who saw being a wife and a mother and creating a home for her family as her vocation, it is a different ball of wax to watch (and even help) my mom at home and to actually create my own home for my own family.

Each day I am diving deeper and deeper into my vocation as a wife and mother and working out what kind of home I want to create for my husband and children. Today I was reading this excellent post by Elizabeth Foss on the whole issue of being intentional in creating the kind of home we want. I know I want my home to be something beautiful. Beauty is important to me in revealing truth and goodness and joy that I know exist. I want my home to conductor of that beauty to my family.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

I'm not sure what this beautiful place "full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing" quite looks like yet. Or how seemly endless piles of toys strewn about fit in the picture.

I know better what I do not want. I do not what a "showcase" home that must always look perfect to be beautiful (though it will have to be tidy - no daughter of my mother can live in real disorder!) I do not want a "model" home that looks like it came out of a magazine, devoid of my own family's personality. I do not want the beauty of my home to be just about the things in it - though that is part of it - but also about how my home operates, how the people in it relate to each other, how we think, how we pray.

I am making some baby steps. I cleaned out my cabinets some months ago and threw out mismatched, ugly plastic crap. I finally bought some inexpensive, but beautiful dinnerware that I could use everyday. I wanted my meals not to just be about food, but actually a communal experience that does more than fill stomachs - food for our bodies, conversation for our minds, and a beautiful presentation for our souls.

Dinner plates are a little thing, but they have helped transform my thinking about meals into something more substaintial, more nourishing for body and soul. This is what I want for my home. I want a beautiful thing - a dinner plate; clean sweet-smelling sheets; an ordered bookcase - to inspire deeper joy in the little things in daily family life. Hopefully, this atmosphere of homely beauty will help lead to stronger bonds of love and deeper joy within my family.

All Grown-Up

Jane is three months old today. Three months! Time seems to go much faster with three children. I remember the first three months with Paul were excruciatingly long. I hoped and prayed and begged with the Lord for him to sleep at night. Now I know the newborn sleep phase does pass - and faster than you think. I remember counting days until Paul's next doctor's appointment so I would know he was getting enough to eat and maybe get some oh-so-precious sleeping advice. I finally scheduled Jane's three month check-up yesterday - for about three weeks from now! I would watch Paul's every move for hours, waiting and waiting and waiting for the first smile, the first raspberry, the first roll over. At the ripe old age of three months, Jane is smiling, giggling, rolling over, and blew her first raspberry today. Instead of waiting and watching, I'm generally shocked and a little sad to see her moving out of her newborn stage of just eating, sleeping, and pooping.

The newborn phase is so fleeting. You'll have your children in other phases for months and years, but you only have a few precious weeks with that tiny, red, wrinkly, sleeping-but-not-when-you-want-them-to, beautiful newborn. I have finally learned to enjoy it. And it only took me three kids to do it.

Going to the Zoo

Take 1 (Lucy prematurely ended the taping.)

Take 2

The Weekly Headliner

Congratulations to Christine, author of this week's winning caption!

"It's going to be awfully hard turning all this straw into soup - Where's Rumpelstiltskin when you need him?"

Last week was a little thin, people. Let's pull it together! Here's this week's challenge from Easter morning (Lucy particularly liked the chocolate marshmallow bunnies!):

Give me a caption!

Papa's in Town

10 metro elevators + 4 metro rides + 4 miles of walking + 3 children + 1 out-of-shape mommy = one challenging, but rewarding pilgrimage to see our beloved Pope Benedict.

Yesterday I made the trek with the kids to watch the pope return from his visit to the White House to the Papal residence in his popemobile. While we must of been quite a sight on the metro - me pushing the double stroller with Jane riding in the Babyhawk - it was worth every look from folks who seemed to think I had three heads rather than three kids. I felt honored and happy to help welcome the Pope to our country, and I hope we helped lifted his hope in the strength of the Catholic Faith here by being part of the children-dominated crowd that cheered him along Massachusetts Avenue.

But while it was a rewarding trip, Jane pretty much sums up the feelings of all by the end of the day.

She's a cuddly little cubby all stuffed with fluffy!

The Weekly Headliner

Congratulations to Aunt Cate, author of last week's winning caption!

Lucy: "Where's that gray-haired lady that comes in and handles the clean-up?"

I think last week was the best week thus far for the Weekly Headliner feature. I had a very difficult time picking a winner. Keep it going, gang!


This week's photo comes from our visit to Grandma Cordonnier's farm. And yes, that is a large wooden spoon in Paul's hand.

Give me a caption!

Vox Nova must have heard...

that I am now officially G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S!

Imagine my surprise when I checked Vox Nova this evening, a blog with which I have a very complicated love-hate infatuation/addiction, and saw myself quoted in one of the day's posts. I posted a comment during an NFP discussion over at my favorite blog, which was picked up by Vox Nova contributor, Radical Catholic Mom, in her post on the difference between NFP and contraception. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. We glamorous people should be used to this type of celebrity.

(If you are tired of my incessantly shallow posts of late, definitely check out Radical Catholic Mom's post. I really can discuss serious issues under all my "flossy, flossy.")

My Glamour Girls and Me

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S

We flying first class

Up in the sky

Popping champagne

Living my life

In the fast lane

And I won't change

For the glamorous

Ooh the flossy, flossy.

Yep, pretty much sums up my life. At least according to this article in the Washington Post this past weekend, Three Kids? You Showoffs. It seems that having three children is the newest symbol of status and wealth among social elites. I always knew I was meant to move in the best circles. Judging from the family size of most of my family and friends, it seems I already am! And according to the article, I have a lot of "sheer financial audacity." Well, that is one way to put it. Here's an excerpt from the article:

Nowadays, people seem aghast if a couple wants more than two children. When Elana Sigall, a 43-year-old attorney in Brooklyn, was pregnant with her third, people came up to her constantly, she said, to admonish her: "You've got a boy and a girl already. Why don't you just leave it alone?"

What's worse, the desire to have another child opens one up to charges of elitism and status consciousness. In many major U.S. cities and their suburbs -- especially New York, where I live -- having three or more children has now come to seem like an ostentatious display of good fortune, akin to owning a pied-à-terre in Paris. The family of five has become "deluxe." Last year, novelist Molly Jong-Fast mused in the New York Observer, "Are people having four or five children just because they can? Because they feel that it shows their wealth and status? In a world where the young rich use their $13,000 Birkin bags as diaper bags, one has to wonder."

We not only wonder, we marvel, we get jealous, we gawk. "Having three kids in the city is a way of showing off, absolutely," says Elisabeth Egan, who, like many families she knows, moved out of New York to the suburbs of Montclair, N.J. , to manage the feat. "A third child in the city is definitely a luxury good."

Excuse me, while I go gloat over my latest "luxury good," who is sleeping peacefully away in her swing, quite oblivious to the fact that she is making her momma absolutely glamorous!

Paul Discovers Jane.

All of a sudden, Paul seems to be quite excited about his newest little sister. Here's a few comments just from today.

While playing with Jane...

Paul to Mommy: "I think we keep her."

While Jane was crying....

Paul to Mommy: "She is pretending to be a lion. She likes roaring."

While hugging Jane...

Paul to Mommy: "I keep her warm with my shirt."

While Jane gets a diaper change...

Paul to Mommy: "She poops in her pants. She poops in her shirt. She likes to poop."

Treat Yourself

Many thanks to my brother Josh of The Shady Characters for introducing me to P.G. Wodehouse. I can't believe I've not discovered this comic genius before now. My first dip into his work was fast, furious, and very, very funny. I think I read Wodehouse's Carry On, Jeeves in about three hours flat. The only drawback was that Jane wanted to share in the experience by hanging out with me in her BabyHawk. Unfortunately, every time I laughed she tended to wake up. With Wodehouse's mad skills, this meant Jane didn't get much sleep that evening and became very cranky indeed. I paid for it with a rather sleepless night with my unhappy baby, but it was worth it. Do yourself a favor and treat yourself to some P.G. Wodehouse tonight.

The Weekly Headliner

Congratulations to Aunt Ruth, the surprise winner from last week's challenge:

Mom: "Wait! Where are my glasses!?!?!"

Here's this week's photo:

Give me a caption!

ABC's: The Uncut Version

Funny Farm

"You're tacky and I hate you."

This post has been in the hopper for quite some time now. When I turned on CNN back on St. Patrick's Day, my poor sleep-deprived eyes were violated by this absolute fashion disaster! (I'll not comment on what my ears were exposed to during the speech. I'm showing some restraint today.) The picture truly does not do justice to the true hideousness of that shamrock scarf. My first thought when I saw the scarf was to call Clinton and Stacy and ask them for a emergency fashion intervention.

Pandering to the Irish vote is one thing, but one should really draw the line at public humilation (not that that ever stopped a Clinton). Go march in a parade in zero degree weather for 12 hours surrounded by grown men in little green hats while shaking about a million hands in cold season, but do NOT wear the middle-age elementary school teacher holiday gear to deliver a major speech on foreign policy. You tend to lose credibility when your audience can't divert their attention from your goofy neckpiece. And I don't think it is the most effective way to inspire fear and trembling in our enemies, either.

I was recently watching a biographical piece about Hillary on one of the cable news networks (I know, I'm a glutton for punishment), and boy, she seemed to have some bad hair decades. Throughout the primary season, though, I have thought she has really pulled it together. Her clothes are great, but they don't detract from her. And she finally got a good haircut. But Hillary made more than just one serious blunder on St. Patrick's Day. She not only lied about being under enemy fire in Bosnia. She lied looking really, really bad.