This …
And some of this …
And a little of this …
And a whole lotta this …
How about you?
Catholic Writer and Speaker
by Danielle Filed Under: Just Joy 3 Comments
This …
And some of this …
And a little of this …
And a whole lotta this …
How about you?
Scanned and blogged, because I don’t want to lose it. You might see more of these …
To start the month off right, I’m sharing this adorable video of an 8-month-old boy laughing hysterically while his at-home daddy rips up a job rejection letter. If this doesn’t cure what ails ye this late winter, I’m not sure anything will.
Daniel bounds into the room.
“Mama, dis is for you,” he announces solemnly.
He then stands on one foot and spins. He holds his arms out to the sides to keep his balance and then comes to a sudden stop. He glances at me shyly before bowing — one hand held elegantly to the side for dramatic effect.
I’ll take it.
Okay. I was going to keep quiet about my live webcam owl find on ustream because I didn’t want you all to think I was obsessing about incubating birds on the internet.
That would be weird.
But then I see that Molly not only has five pretty little eggs, but she also has a husband! Named McGee! Who brings her food! Like dead mice and stuff!
And the whole thing is too darned adorable not to share. And so here you go. Obsess away.
When I stepped out the front door late last night, I was greeted by a ruckus. It was Friday night, and apparently the frogs and toads who call our field home were having a bit of a party.
It was black as … well, night — but I decided to take a video to record the noise. You won’t see anything, but if you listen to the audio in the video below, you’ll hear one of the (many) reasons I love living here:
Oh, and coming back into the house, I was greeted by a beautiful Luna moth that had perched itself on my front door.
An awesome homeschooling mom would have gotten the kids out of bed for an impromptu nature study, but I am only a halfway decent homeschooling mom.
I showed them the photo this morning.
This morning, I locked myself in my bedroom to steal a few minutes of quiet while I typed an email.
When 2-year-old Daniel knocked and whined, though, I took pity and opened the door.
That was a mistake.
He leaped onto the bed and lunged for the alarm clock, switching on the radio with a single slap of his hand. Where did he learn to do that?
Gwen Stefani filled the room.
Seconds later, Raphael noticed the open door and settled on the floor with a pile of clothing next to him. Despite the fact that it was mid-morning, he apparently had not yet gotten dressed for the day.
“Nobody wook!” he announced, pulling on pants and undies.
Next, Juliette entered the room with a spelling list in hand. I put aside my email to quiz her. We’ve been working on this list and I wanted to be sure she had mastered it before moving on to other subjects this morning.
Finally, Stephen wandered in. With a singing stuffed hamster. You read that right. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly thank Fr. D., my husband’s boss, for sending this small gift home with him 2 years ago. It’s a 6-inch tall stuffed hamster that dances and sings an enthusiastic version of “Wide Blue Yonder” when you squeeze its paw. And it never runs out of batteries. Not ever.
The hamster’s voice blended beautifully with Gwen Stefani’s. I called out spelling words above the din and wondered if I would manage to send that email this morning after all.
But it didn’t matter anyway. This is what working at home, schooling at home, living and loving at home look and sound like.
It’s not always pretty, but it’s everything to me. Everything I should be doing. Everything I want to be doing. Everything I need.