cookies for St. Joseph!

Today I decided to celebrate the Solemnity of the Feast of St. Joseph and the inauguration of Pope Francis by baking cookies. Not just any cookies, "dark and dangerous triple chocolate" cookies. These things are rich, cakey, and unbelievably good. If you want to forget about life for a while and drift off into a heavenly diabetic coma these are the cookies for you.

Anyway, as soon as I started getting out ingredients Isaac got ready to help by pulling up a chair. He's my constant companion in the kitchen and can get pretty upset when I try to do anything without him (such as preparing raw meat, using the stove or sharp knives--Isaac is confident that he can handle these things, but I'm still not quite convinced), so I try to include him whenever I can.

Everything was going pretty well at first. There was flour and cocoa everywhere but that was to be expected.  Then, when we were almost finished Isaac got a taste of the batter (raw eggs never hurt anyone, right?) and realized how sweet it was. It then became a race. Isaac trying to shovel the batter into his mouth, and me trying to quickly finish mixing it and simultaneously stop him from ingesting it all. We don't give him a lot of sweets, but he sure does love it whenever he can get his hands on any.

I soon realized I would have to finish off the cookies without Isaac's help if I wanted there to be anything left to put in the oven. So I did what any 21st-Century mother would do: I put the bowl out of reach and went to get the camera, then blogged about it and put the pictures up on the Internet.

I put the bowl out of reach but, as you can see, he managed to find the beaters. Mmmmm, butter, sugar and egg.

I'm so happy to finally get pictures of him smiling and not making a run for the camera. Turns out all that was needed was a little chocolate.

Happy feast, St. Joseph! Please protect my men and may we follow your example of holiness and purity!

waiting, waiting, waiting...shoes!

March always seems to me to be a month of waiting. You can feel spring getting closer but, let's be realistic, this is Canada, and March is still basically winter. So we're waiting for spring. We're also waiting for Easter, and this year we're waiting for a new pope as well.

That's a lot of waiting, and I must admit that Lent has been difficult this year. Sean and I are fasting from watching tv. I'm so glad that we decided to do it and it's been really good for us, but there was quite the detox period. When Isaac was sick near the beginning of Lent I almost didn't make it.

It's amazing how much more productive I can be without tv sucking all my spare time down the drain. So I've been filling in this waiting time with sewing. Since we have so many friends who just had or are about to have babies I've been sewing baby gifts. I've actually become pretty obsessed with making these cute little soft-soled baby shoes.

Aren't they sweet? Because of the elastic in the heel, they should be nice and snug and stay on well too. I'm very seriously considering starting an Etsy shop so I can sell these little treasures. Then, of course, I had to start making little headbands to match the shoes (since everyone seems to be having girls these days).

I needed more interfacing so today I went to the fabric store where I couldn't resist picking up a few cute remnants. I also discovered a thrift store next to the fabric store and found some beautiful fabric there. My favorite place that I shopped today, though, was my mother-in-law's fabric stash. She loves to see fabric going to a good home and I love free stuff! Long story short, I have enough fabric now to be making these shoes for the rest of my life. Anyone interested in buying?

helluva hard

So I wasn't really planning on posting today but I came across this excerpt from a book that I just had to share: Carry On, Warrior , by Glennon Melton.

She talks about the difficulties of mothering and how we find them hard to admit because we're always being told to "love every minute of it" by old ladies in the grocery store. This is something that I think about often. Especially as a stay-at-home mom I'm on the defensive about my motherhood. In a society where it's anti-cultural to raise your children full-time if I admit that it can be lonely, or even sometimes, dare I say it, boring, I'm afraid that someone will tell me to just get a job because I obviously don't have enough to do (this is coming from a woman with only one child; I'm sure once I have eight children no one will question whether I have enough to do--then they'll question my sanity).

Anyway, I love this excerpt. It made me laugh and cry at the same time.


I just hope to be one [nostalgic old lady] with a clear memory. And here’s what I hope to say to the younger mama gritting her teeth in line:
“It’s helluva hard, isn’t it? You’re a good mom, I can tell. And I like  your kids, especially that one peeing in the corner. She’s my favorite. Carry on, warrior. Six hours ’til bedtime.” 

St. Valentine's

Another Valentine's Day has come and gone and I've fallen into the trap once again. The hype surrounding the holy-martyr's-feast-somehow-turned-day-of-ultra-romance has fooled me into putting romantic love on a high pedestal for which it was never destined. Darn you greeting card company conspiracy!

Truth be told, I've been feeling a little blue lately. I don't fully know why. I think partly it's the weather and being cooped up indoors too much. Also, Isaac has been pretty temperamental lately, which really wears on me. Maybe the weather is getting to him too.

Anyway, I've never really thought much about Valentine's Day. Sure it's nice for couples to have an extra reason to show their love, but it's pretty much a made up holiday anyway, right? But as it approached this year I began to look forward to it as a break from recent monotony. I began to think that in some small way maybe it would make me happy. BIG mistake.

Flowers and chocolate certainly cannot make me happy. Neither can the love of my husband, dear though he is. Only God can.

One of the few things that humans can never get enough of is love. We desire to be loved perfectly, completely, forever. Can I love someone like that? Of course not. It is how I strive to love my husband and son everyday but I'm constantly falling short. Romantic love, beautiful and amazing as it is, can never truly fulfill a person. The reason romantic love is so beautiful is that it is a shadow, the faintest whisper, of real love--God's love. The only love so perfect and all-encompassing that it can make a person happy.

When we put the burden of our happiness into someone else's hands we are doing them a great injustice. No human was ever meant to bear that burden. Essentially, we are making them into our god. Expecting your spouse to fulfill you will only lead to frustration and disappointment. Expecting them to be perfect will only make them feel inadequate and unappreciated.

All of this I know, and have known ever since studying Theology of the Body before I was married--in theory. In practice it's very easy to forget. In practice it's very easy to look to the person who is beside you everyday for your happiness. It is very easy to blame him whenever you have a bad day, whenever you're the least bit down. It is much more difficult to look to myself, to what is lacking in my spiritual life, to sincerely put my well-being into God's hands.

There's a song by Jon Foreman about this called A Mirror is Harder to Hold. He says:

I could try and point the finger but the glass points in my direction
Sure you've got your sharp edges but my wounds are from my own reflection

Happy belated St. Valentine's Day everyone! Hug your loved ones and don't forget to remind them that you can't make each other happy!

Will the world be so kind?

Awhile ago we noticed that when we said "good job!" Isaac would clap. Now he's doing it even if we don't say anything, whenever he thinks he's accomplished something.

Sorry, I don't have a better picture.
This is Isaac making a rush for the camera as usual.

Today Isaac put a fork on a pair of shoes and smiled and clapped for himself like it was the greatest thing in the world. It just made me wonder: are we overdoing it? Have we set him up to be one of those kids who thinks he's the cat's pyjamas because he can adequately pair cutlery and footwear? Will he go off to college and throw a temper tantrum when his professor isn't impressed that he put a spoon in a boot? I guess only time will tell...

photos!

I thought I'd do a post with a couple photos just to mix things up a little. 

Isaac and Daddy, getting the pizza dough ready.

Isaac taking a break from his very important job (stirring some floury water in the measuring cup) to test the dough.

We like to carry on the Koechl tradition of making pizza on Saturdays when we have the time and energy. We all love pizza, including our picky eater, Isaac. He also loved that he got to help us make it this time. He's getting to be such a big boy, imitating us more and more. And as you can see in these photos, he's finally getting hair!

triscuit crumbs in the sheets

I come out of quarantine to write to you today. Pretty much since Christmas it's been one bout of sickness after another. Sure, we've had small pockets of good health here and there, but for the most part one or all of us has had some sort of bug. Thankfully, it's been nothing serious, but our house has definitely been more chaotic than usual as we struggle to keep our heads above water in this germ infested pool.

There is a huge pile of laundry in the bedroom and one load that's been sitting in the dryer for three days. There is a stack of dishes by the sink, food smeared all over the floor. Isaac's latest thing is to continually "reorganize" the front hallway, so it is barely passable because of all the shoes, hats, and mitts scattered everywhere. We haven't seen the main set of car keys for two days (another one of Isaac's latest things: he takes them and tries to stick them in keyholes). Top it off with a deluge of dirty kleenexes and you've got an idea of what we're living in.

Last night I crawled into bed only to be greeted by a bumpy, scratchy sensation. Of course. Earlier in the day Isaac had been bouncing on our bed, eating a triscuit (my fault, for letting him).

Sometimes the continual mess makes me feel like I'm going to lose my mind. Everything has either been hidden by Isaac or hidden from Isaac, so I can never find anything. Some days every other step crushes a cheerio and there are no matching socks and Isaac literally follows me around and untidies everything that I try to tidy. It can be gut-wrenchingly frustrating.

But last night, as I brushed the triscuit crumbs off the sheets I remembered (for once) to be thankful. Even with all of our colds and flus, we have no serious health problems. We have never had the terrifying experience of rushing our child to the hospital for an emergency. And our house is a mess, but it is made a mess by such a charming little man that sometimes I think my heart is going to burst. I am so thankful that God has given us our little monkey. I am so thankful that he has the health and spirit to turn our home upside down everyday. Last night I realized that triscuit crumbs in the sheets are a very, very small price to pay.