Michael's mad soccer skills

Last weekend we joined some AI friends for an incredibly fun pick-up soccer game.  And by "we" I mean, of course, that Alex joined the game, Michael went back and forth between playing with his trains, kicking an extra ball around, and trying to join in the game, and I chased M and cheered on Alex.  We had a blast.

We also discovered that M has some pretty impressive soccer skills (for a toddler).  He obviously gets his raw talent from his father--I played one season of soccer at some point in elementary school and scored exactly one goal.  But the more memorable part is that in his attempt to block my shot the goalie ended up sitting on my foot--and he was not exactly small for our age.

Enough about me and my non-soccer skills.  Of course I had neither the camera or the video camera at the game last weekend, but this afternoon we ventured up to the park equipped with soccer balls and cameras for a quick Team Crane practice.  Here are some (okay, quite a few) highlights:

My handsome soccer players

Working on technique

Kicking the ball is my FAVORITE!

RUNNING is my favorite!

M was quite impressed by Daddy's skills with the ball

Hustle? I'm too cute to hustle.

Future soccer star!

Yeah, I'm cute and I know it.

Having so much fun playing with Daddy...

But those soccer balls are tricksy--sometimes you go to
kick them and you end up on the ground.  What?!

By the time I broke out the video camera M was getting a little worn out (obviously we need some more strength and conditioning to build stamina).  His coordination seems to decrease exponentially as he gets tired, hence all the dives and his lack of interest in kicking the ball (he was dribbling very impressively earlier, I promise!).

7 Quick Takes (vol. 12)

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I always feel like a bit of a blogging failure when I don't post anything between one week's quick takes and the next, but on the bright side at least there are quick takes.  Right?

--- 2 ---

This week has been incredi-busy.  Thank you for all your prayers for the Biblical School classes.  My Thursday morning class reached the minimum enrollment and is a go for the year!  My Thursday evening class, on the other hand, still needs five more people to register by the end of next week or it will be cancelled.  I'm surprisingly okay with this... as I've been praying for enrollments this past week--and trying to end every prayer with "Thy will be done" (in fact sometimes that's all I can bring myself to pray about it)--I've actually lost two students who had to drop my class for one reason or another.  Either I'm praying wrong, or this class isn't supposed to happen this year.  At any rate, this entire summer of waiting and waiting and WAITING apparently hasn't been enough and God wants to take this up to the very last minute and eke every last ounce of learning to trust out of me.   Surprise!

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And in the time it has taken me to get from take 2 to take 3 (I'm not going to tell you how long... but it's been a while), I've learned that the number needed for my evening class is down to 4--thanks to the generosity of our pastor and parish in sponsoring someone who had registered for the class but was going to have to drop out due to unexpected financial burdens.  Maybe I will be teaching two classes after all...

--- 4 ---

The  midnight (and 2am, and 4am, etc.) munchies have fully kicked in.  I was hoping I wouldn't hit this phase where I can't get through the night without eating... or at least hit it at the very very end.  But it's here.  So far the nighttime cravings have been pretty easily satisfied either by a spoonful of peanut butter and a glass of milk (protein, therefore healthy) or a small bowl of CheezIts (um... cheese... therefore healthy...ish).

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Also, dried coconut has become my new best friend.  It's fruit, so it's healthy--full of fiber and vitamins and stuff!  It's slightly sweet and surprisingly filling, so it's perfect when I just need to eat something and eat it now (which is, you know, a lot).  There are such wonderful things at Costco...

Photo credit

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Congratulations to my home diocese of Lincoln, NE on your new bishop!!!  Bishop Conley has been such a blessing to us here in Denver--we're sorry to see him go, but so glad for you :)

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Aaaand... Happy Friday!

Grace is hosting quick takes over at Camp Patton today--go check them out!

7 Quick Takes (vol. 11)

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Confession: I started these quick takes last Friday... and meant to finish them Saturday... and thought about finishing them on Sunday... and pretty much gave up on them by Monday night.

Makes this week a bit easier though!

--- 2 ---

Alex and I are just thrilled to death (and probably taking too much credit/feeling a bit too proud of our obviously awesome parenting skills) that Michael, at a scant 19 1/2 months old, makes the Sign of the Cross nearly perfectly (and by "nearly perfectly" I mean he remembers to start at his forehead almost half the time and only goes back and forth between "Son" and "Holy Spirit" four or five times--but it is definitely recognizeable!).  If I give him his lunch first and then sit down with him a few minutes later with mine, he will stop eating and start making the Sign of the Cross so we can pray together (obviously holier than I am, since I generally forget to pray with him before handing him his food).  And when we enter the church on Sundays he practically runs for the holy water font and waits impatiently to be lifted up so he can dip his hand (okay, plunge his hand as far in as possible) and bless himself.

Such a holy, well catecheized toddler.  We are so proud!

And then last week I found him in the bathroom.  Where I had inadvertently and unfortunately left the toilet lid up.  Dipping his hand in the toilet and--you guessed it, blessing himself.  With the not-at-all-holy-not-even-CLEAN toilet water.

So he really is a very normal toddler.  And I need to remember to put the toilet lid down.  Always.  And it probably wouldn't hurt to scrub the toilet a little more frequently, just in case.

--- 3 ---

In further M-news, for several weeks now he's been saying the same word in reference to cars/trucks whenever he sees or hears them.  It sounded an awful lot like "Josh" and I couldn't figure out why he so strongly associated cars with his uncle.  I mean, even for a toddler "cars" and "josh" don't sound that similar.

And then it hit me.  He's not saying "Josh."  He's saying "crash!"  Because obviously that's what cars and trucks do (at least when he and Daddy are playing with them).  So on any given day when we're outside and hear (regular) traffic noise, M will point, look up at me, and say (oh so sweetly), "crash? crash?" 

No, sweetie, I don't think they crashed.  They're just driving.

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The weather has finally cooled down.  I was excited to wake up to cloudy grey skies and a cool breeze blowing through the window (the cloudy and cool part, not so much the waking up part), and even more excited to see that we're not expected to get above the mid-80s for the next week and a half.  In fact, I almost spit out my coffee when I saw that the high for today is supposed to be 71.  Of course, I never trust the forecast--it'll probably be 90 again in a couple days just to spite me.

--- 5 ---

Do you love birth stories?  I'm absolutely obsessed with them.  I spent the entire 41 1/2 weeks of being pregnant with M reading everything I could get my hands on about pregnancy and birth.  Which, being my first, probably wasn't really surprising.  But my fascination with birth stories didn't go away after M was born.  I often have to resist the temptation to ask new acquaintances/practical strangers for their birth stories (and sometimes I don't bother to resist).

The closer I get to my due date (did I mention I'm 31 weeks?! only nine-ish to go... or maybe closer to 11, if he's anything like his brother... *sigh*) the more I feel the need to fuel my addiction...

So do you have a birth story you can share with me?  Pretty, pretty please?

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In case you are even as remotely in love with birth stories as I am, here's Michael's.  I shared--now it's your turn!

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My final take is a prayer request (I'm just needy today, aren't I? give me your birth stories! pray for me!).  I've been waiting all summer to find out if I'll really get to start my dream job as an adjunct instructor for the Catholic Biblical School.  Registrations for the first year classes have been rolling in very slowly, and I've been trying to prepare myself for the very good possibility that the two classes I'm scheduled to teach (starting next week!) will be cancelled due to low enrollment.  Well, I found out yesterday that they're doing better than I thought--each class only needs 5 or 6 more people to reach the magic minimum enrollment number.  So if you have a moment I'd dearly appreciate your prayers for anyone still considering registering. Thanks ever so much :)

Go see Jen for more quick takes!

Embrace the Camera (vol. 2)

I'm 31 weeks now, and realized I only have one real 'belly shot' of Liam.  I have several at different stages of pregnancy with Michael, and I have it on good authority that second-borns can sometimes be a little touchy about there being fewer pictures of them than of the first-borns (*cough*Dene'*cough*).  Well, we can't start that this early with the boys, can we?  So after getting Michael to bed I made Alex take some pictures of me (because, of course, he complained horribly about me handing him the camera and telling him to point it at me... I think he may be a fan of Emily's Embrace the Camera deal).

Within Your Wounds Hide Me--Some Thoughts On Suffering

The seeds of this post have been simmering for a while now (?! hello, mixed metaphors... blame the preggo-brain and lack of sleep from, you know, being pregnant, plus the toddler's night terror Monday night).  I was all set to finish it up and post it two weeks ago, quite appropriately on the feast of St. Rose of Lima.  But instead I guess I was supposed to take some time to actually work on practicing what I was pondering.  But it's still all true, so here goes (finally)!

The Anima Christi is one of my favorite prayers.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me

Body of Christ, save me

Blood of Christ, inebriate me

Water from the side of Christ, wash me

Passion of Christ, strengthen me

O Good Jesus, hear me

Within Your Wounds hide me

Separated from You let me never be

From the evil one protect me

At the hour of my death call me

And close to you bid me

That with your saints I may praise you

Forever and ever, Amen.

At different points in the years since I've learned this prayer, different lines have been particularly close to my heart--a focus on my need for sanctification and cleansing, a desperate plea for Christ to be my strength, etc.

At this particular moment in my life (aka, motherhood), the most poignant line in this prayer for me is "Within Your Wounds hide me."  I've always thought this line was beautiful, but more recently I really stopped to think about what I was asking when I prayed it.  Asking to be drawn into closer proximity to the Wounds of Christ?  To be be ever closer to Christ... on the cross?  And therefore closer to the cross--this probably means I have to embrace my crosses more, right?  And I was reminded of a quote from Blessed Mother Teresa that my sister shared with me years ago:

"Pain and suffering have come into your life,

but remember pain, sorrow, suffering are but the kiss of Jesus--

a sign thatyou have come so close to Him that He can kiss you."

I remember thinking when I heard that quote... I'm not sure I want that kiss.  I should want it, I want to want it, but... (I also remember thinking, as I often do, that Dene' is so much holier than I am!)

Fast-forward to motherhood.  Chronic sleep deprivation is a kind of suffering I never even imagined.  Constantly being asked to deny myself and take up my toddler--although full of unexpected blessings, it's also full of unexpected suffering.  Being pregnant?  Surprise!  Pain and suffering can be found here, too.

So in meditating on letting Christ hide me within His Wounds, I realized that I really need to try to do a better job of offering up my suffering, instead of just whining about it (although I did garner a considerable amount of sympathy from that post...). 

A dear and wise friend once said that the closer we draw to the cross of Christ, the closer we are to one another.  Allowing myself to be hidden within His Wounds also keeps me close to others who are suffering.  You'd think it would have already occurred to me to offer up the (minor) sufferings of my pregnancy for those who can't conceive or are having difficulty conceiving, especially since there are some very near and dear to my heart who are struggling with this.  But it occurs at one particularly grace-filled moment (usually connected with Mass or actually taking time for Morning Prayer) and then quickly escapes my mind in that frustrated, tired, uncomfortable moment when I need it.

But, if you can believe it, I found a new(ish) patron saint just when I needed her!

I've loved St. Rose of Lima ever since my mission trip to Peru with FOCUS during college.  I had a vague recollection that she practiced some pretty severe penances during her life, but I was reminded during Mass on her feast day two weeks ago that one of her habitual mortifactions was to deprive herself of sleep and pray and work instead--and when she did sleep, it was on a bed of rocks and broken glass.  Yikes.  While I'm quite positive that I'm not being called to give up any dramatic amount of the precious sleep I'm still getting (although it would probably certainly do me good to get up 15 minutes earlier for some quiet time before the sleep tyrant  agent of my sanctification starts his day), I figure St. Rose could definitely help me bear my involuntary mortifications with a bit more grace.

It was while I was in Lima that I first saw a crucifix on which our Lord's wounds were portrayed as more than just a few trickles of blood at his hands, feet, and side.  I was particularly struck by the wounds on His knees.  Why those particularly wounds should have made such a strong impression I don't know--and I don't remember if the reason was readily apparent to me then.  But now when I think of that image I see it as a call to prayer--and at this point specifically a call to offer up my sufferings more faithfully.

So that's what I've been trying to do these last two weeks (while waiting for the magical combination of time and motivation to finish this post).  Don't worry--I'll still be complaining plenty (and Alex is a saint for bearing the brunt of it).  But I'm hoping to at least offer up a quick prayer begging to unite my sufferings to Christ's before mentally composing a whiny incoherent blog post at 2am while I am inexplicably and maddenly awake.