1st Snowfall

One boy loved it!

One, not so much

Veggie Spaceship

When one has found it impossible to find the time to blog for six months it is rather daunting to know where to start. But, I need to record for posterity a moment from this evening's meleé.

We are daddyless for a few days and nights so things are slightly more chaotic and there is 50% more work for a tired, pregnant mother. Thus, by 1900 my spirits  were flagging and my sense of humor waning. As I tried to get the dishwasher started, an excited 3.5-year-old made off excitedly with something dirty from the bottom rack. His eager 2-year-old sidekick ran off down the hallway after him. Like I said, my sense of humor was gone, so I stalked after them demanding to know what they had. When I made it to the back bedroom, where they play with a large wooden castle and knights, I saw our vegetable steamer basket landing as if from space and unloading little plastic passengers onto the medieval grounds. I smiled in spite of myself and gave thanks for living in a home where vegetable steamer baskets become UFOs.

Soccer Cinderella

I got home at 12:45 AM last night. I am within 24 hours of the most incredible sport spectacle I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing live.  A friend offered me the opportunity to use one of their tickets to go to the Women's World Cup Final (USA v. Japan) in Frankfurt.

Immediately the rational, sensible, mother-of-seven-years-side of me went into gear. Kick-off wasn't until 20:45, Ethan is away and I have three children... I couldn't go! Fortunately, the passionate, soccer-loving side of me overrode that, and I committed to making it work. Sitter, check. Homemade shirt and obnoxious hat, check. Good friends to get me to the stadium and back, check. I did it. I spent seven of the fastest hours of my life, supporting our ladies in the middle of our adopted German homeland. 
The soccer was inspiring, the fans were committed, the international fervor and yet mutual respect were something to behold. There I sat, in the heart of old Europe, watching a team from the Pacific Rim play their hearts out against our New World soccer standard-bearing women. I enjoyed an organic bratwurst with mustard, while I watched women in beautiful Japanese kimonos settle into the seats around me with their classy-but-passionate excitement. I saw plenty of facepainted U.S. bellies, heck, I wore a homemade shirt and light-up Uncle Sam hat myself.

What a year to have this experience. The women on that field were my peers. Some my exact same age. I played some highish level soccer in both California and the D.C.-area for 12 years. I know the level of time and energy required to be a competitive soccer player, and the level at which these women play is simply exhilarating. Furthermore, there was national character being displayed on that field. The U.S. women were persistent and fierce, but the Japanese were focused and efficient. The timing of the Japanese goals (within ten minutes after each U.S. goal) alone earned them the penalty kick shoot-out which gave them the title.  Seeing three subsequent penalty shots stopped by the diminutive Japanese keeper was almost surreal. The celebration of the Japanese team as they were showered with golden glitter was  genuine, intense and classy. Several of them formed a small circle and bowed low to the perfect green grass, honoring Buddha, presumably, but someone other than themselves assuredly. As we stayed, transfixed by the spectacle, after the cup had been handed out. The Japanese women put the trophy down, and picked up a large banner which read "Thank you to our fans in Japan and around the World" in English and proceeded painstakingly around the perimeter of the field so that we all got to see.

The night was magical, I was never once embarrassed of my blinking Uncle Sam hat, but I also learned a great deal about Japanese culture and values, simply from watching a 120 minute football match with them. When I came home to my apartment to send my spouse a quick note, the Yahoo homepage blared, "Japan wins World Cup when US falls apart in penalty kicks". Well, I am so glad I was physically present, because I know that that is not at all what happened. Rather, a group of inspired, diligent women, brought home a golden trophy that they deserve to guard on their national soil until 2015 in Canada. Then the U.S. women can have another shot at it, and I hope to be there again. What a night.

Gush

St. Goar

This is one of those pictures that just makes me take a step back and think, "oh, man, we are really living in Europe. Look at those kids meandering through a 13th century castle like it is an ordinary day."  It was really warm today, but we enjoyed exploring the quaint main street of St. Goar, on the banks of the Rhine River, as well as walking all around the Rheinfels Castle. There were amazing tunnels underneath the entire castle, but they got so dark that we were afraid to go too far without a flashlight. Next time we go back, we will surely bring one.

Heidelberg

Auntie Quinn Final Summer

I am not sure how my 23-year-old, fashionable, hip younger sister earned the moniker "Auntie" - I think it is the absurdity of the title being applied to someone like her that makes it so perfect.

Well, Quinn will graduate from Humboldt State University in December and enter the real world. She honored us by spending three weeks of the last summer of her life checking out our "real world". Here she is on her first morning (no jet lag allowed in this little apartment - ha!) here drinking smoothies in a tent with her niece and nephews.

Viv and her violin

Today was her recital, it made me cry.

Books of the Bible Song

 

Vivian has really amazed me this year, with her ability to memorize Bible verses as a member of the AWANA club at our local parish. It is mostly Protestant children, but I like to see that we Catholics can represent! Check out her wannabe brothers in this video!

Homeschool - a Good Choice (tonight)

OK, so when we decided to homeschool our children I stepped in trepidatiously. That is putting it way mildly, I was really more incredulous-dumbfounded-uncertain-terrified. I held all the same stereotypes of homeschooling families as the majority of the world. Our kids would be socially inept, unkempt, and ignorant of higher math and science if I did this, right? And besides, how would I, the least-suited teacher alive manage this task?

Nonetheless, too many people whom I deeply respect had made the decision. and gosh, I love to read and I love our extraordinary faith, so surely that would percolate through my disorganization and daily lack of patience, right? We are living in Europe, so it frees up travel days. We can drop in on Daddy at the Army Dining Hall on a day when he has worked 60+ hours and we just need him. So we jumped in.

I would say it has been about two legit years, maybe 1.5, and recently I have seen moments of why we do this. It is 2300 at night, but I am forcing myself to record this for posterity so that I can revisit the post in a weaker moment when I am exhausted and the house needs cleaning again.

If you are now hanging in here to read of my children's impressive academic accolades, reorient, because those are not the reasons that touch my heart. What does -- all three children were in my bed this morning, and there was no rush to get any of them out and dressed and anywhere. Our world was on hold while we snuzzled each other. My 3-year-old-son grabbed a dustpan and came over matter-of-factly after I had swept up a pile under the table. The one true student, is well accustomed to doing math worksheets and Biblical drawings with a 16-month-old sharing her chair and she knows she might have to look for the gel pen she needs on the floor. The 3-year-old boy genuflects when he enters a pew at Daily Mass. We can go to playgrounds on the hour before school lets out - the sun is high and we have the run of the world. Anyone else there is most likely homeschooled and we know them. I put schoolwork on hold for three days straight while an impassioned six year old embarked on her first research project without any prompting whatsoever. There were library holds, internet research and drawing that all went into her laborious efforts to produce a guinea pig care and handling book. We sing and dance Hokey Pokey several mornings a week in order to reiterate right and left and both boys come running from wherever they are in the apartment when they hear its opening bars. Warm breakfasts. Making homemade peanut butter as a part of her math curriculum. Phenomenal chapter books. Meeting kindred spirit home school moms. Getting unexpected love notes from my pupil on work she knows I am going to correct. Watching her write letters to people without being forced to (after two years of forcing her). It is great right now.

Boys have not begun yet, but we are truly rolling with Numero Uno and I am oh-so grateful to all the supporters out there.

Laying on a Little Piece of Daddy

Army Dad has been traveling a lot over the past five months. Therefore, the Army duffel bag is never really 100% unpacked. Our youngest has decided to make the most of it, and lounges on the bag like his personal baby body pillow.

In her dreams

100% her own doing.

Daddy gone for the week

not the same around here.

Blood Oranges

These lovely delicacies always emerge in the middle of winter at European grocery stores. We first ate them in Spain and then last year in Rome. They are always inexpensive and organically grown (two attributes that do not usually go hand in hand) so we love eating them while they are in season. The color of each segment varies wildly from its neighbors, from a light see-through orange to a thick crimson.

These blood oranges enchant me. And I love that they are popular in the countries of Catholicism. Countries whose ancient cathedrals favor the bloody, suffering Jesus to the sterile empty crosses of the Martin Luther churches here in Germany.

Wow, she got all that from a piece of fruit? Pretty out there.

The Beginning of our Oompa Band?

Or maybe "Oompa Loompa?"    

Move Over Steve Jobs

I thought I was so savvy when I made the rule that the only food items to which children could help themselves were those from the fruit bowl. Good gracious, these Apple Brothers are going to eat us out of house and home. This shot is 100% unposed-come-around-the-corner-and-find-it-material.

The Middle of Our Three is Three

SETH! Our little man. Our first little man, today you turned three.

It was a joyous birthday, but really you are such a ray of sunshine that you act as if every day is your birthday. For the way people grumble about middle children, I just haven't seen that from you. Au contrair, little guy. You can be calm and still enough to sit patiently while your older sister reads you book after book. You will sit there as long as she is willing to read another title. On the other hand, you are happy to climb into your baby brother's crib and pummel him just minutes after he wakes up.

You are the cuddler of the family. You tell jokes that don't make sense and then laugh uproariously. You still love your "babbis" at night, but we sheepishly let you hang on to them as the final remnant of your babyhood. You potty-trained about a month ago, spend many hours a day in costume as either a knight or a superhero and your energy is unfathomable. Every day you show us what a joy and what a challenge God designed in little boys. We love you with hearts that want to turn into bean-bag chairs and let you flop into them and stay forever.  Happy Birthday, Son.

St Paul's Outside the Walls

Renewal of Vows

Amazing. That is it. My husband and I were blessed with the opportunity to renew our marriage vows this morning. At an 0800 Mass in a crypt chapel at Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome, we stood there and said "I do" all over again.

Our marriage was a sacramental one. It is forever. We were not messing around on Sep. 6, 2003 when we said we do. It is really forever. I thank my Church. I thank my Church for having the timeless wisdom to know that humans are weak and there are moments when I need to have no choice - it is forever. So, as we stood in that intimate chapel, we were just feet from the burial place of Saint Peter, the first pope, Christ's vicar. We were also near the tomb of John Paul II, recently beatified pope of the majority of our lives -  I felt a part of something huge and sacred and eternal. Saying yes again, with all the life and experience that seven years has entailed,  was really a no-brainer. Yes, Babe, YES YES YES!