Send Off

This post was written March 7, 2012.  The pictures are from a balloon launch we did for Kirsten at "the horse playground" close to our house in Kingwood, TX.  I posted a video at the time to show that we were thinking of her and her family all the way from The Lone Star State.  I don't know why I never posted this.  Probably because I had more photos to add.  The ones I uploaded are mostly of Sophie and Ella.  Looking at it now, I can't believe how little the girls were and how much we have been through since.   

So, post before last, I talked about losing my cousin Kirsten.  I will be honest with you--I wanted to fly home.  I wanted to be there at the wake and the funeral.  I cannot think of anything I value more than my family.  And "family" to me, has never meant just mom, dad, brothers, sisters.  God gave me a big family--aunts, uncles, cousins, the whole shebang--and I love it.  I call it my "context".  I know I would not be me without them.  John Donne said, "No man is an island".  No woman either.  

A New Adventure

 Flashback Post Written 10/5/2016 when I was going to re-start the blog...HA!  So much easier to start than to re-start!

I have decided that it is time to blog again.  I considered a new blog with a new name pointing to a new theme but decided that a) it's easier to take up where I left off with the blog I already have and b) the title is appropriate.  I am the "Frodo Two" of Frodo Seven, this merry band with whom I travel life.  We are each "Frodo", with a destiny that is important, scary and full of adventure.  Together, we are seven.  When I named the blog, I wondered if I would have to rename it "Frodo Eight" at some point but seven we were and seven we are today.  We will not remain seven unless all of our girls become nuns.  Growing in Frodos is a blessing we look forward to.
My goal in blogging again is to document a new phase in our home school journey.  For those of you who do not know, we have been home schooling our children for over a decade.  There are a few different definitions of home schooling out there.  Mine is "keeping the children home instead of sending them to a brick and mortar school."  There are many different ways to home school or not school formally at all.  The key word to me is "home".
That said, there are those who might say that we departed from home schooling this year when we enrolled our children in a cyber school.  A cyber school is a public school.  It is paid for by tax dollars so the computers and books and printer that we received are all gratis to us.  (Or a small token compared to the money we have been paying in taxes all these years)  The kids have teachers with whom they interact over the computer wearing head sets like little telemarketers.  But they are home. And I am home.  In fact, I am working harder now at home than I ever have in our years home schooling.  Which is interesting but I will get to that later.
As with any new venture, there are pluses and minuses.  Good days and bad and definitely ups and downs (which is a given really with four girls and a mom at home together ALL DAY LONG).  I want to chronicle them here.  Why?  Because that is the only way to remember.  There are so many things worth remembering.  Like all the web mails I have been getting from eight year old Ella telling me, "I love you Mommy xxxxxxxxx."  And all of the many reasons Sophie has given me that she is not qualified for cyber school and should be exempt from school altogether.
I am way too serious many times when I should take things more lightly.  The important thing is not what my kids know or what they can do but who they are.  As incredible individuals.
I bet they forgot to clean the litter box again......

Till next time.

Bay of Fundy 2

Continuation of the Canada Chronicles
August 2018

Waking up in St. Martins, we got our first glimpse of the Bay of Fundy from our own private--don't go too close to the edge!--cliff.  I couldn't get enough of the view but the truly unique thing about the Bay of Fundy was something we wouldn't have known just looking at it in that moment.  It is home to the highest tides in the world meaning that the changes between low and high tide are dramatic.  To appreciate the difference, it is important to see the same place at both high and low tides.
As we drove to the caves, a highlight of St. Martins, we passed a dock where three boats were tied up, not one of which was in the water.  In fact, there was no water at all in the little cove.  We guessed that the water would come in later and we saw that afternoon that we were correct.  The boats could now float but if they left, they would have to be very careful to honor curfew lest they be stuck away during low tide!
The caves were impressive.  It was low tide when we arrived and there was an entire expanse of rocky beach between the parking lot and the edge of the water with all kinds of washed up treasure.  We were able to explore the caves, wade and search for rocks.  Poor Grace cut her foot badly when she slid down a rock she tried to climb.  Chris, being the better amateur doctor of the two of us, piggy backed Grace back to the car where I actually had a stocked first aid kit.  I had started to follow them but a couple minutes in lost my footing in a particularly slippery muddy area and ended up in mud from my ankles to my neck.  I even had seaweed hanging from me.  Fortunately, I landed in such a way as to protect my camera!  I got a few laughs from the girls but considered myself luckier than the man who had been walking his dogs when he fell and literally rolled over a rocky patch.
The day was blue-skied and perfectly temperatured and the girls and I minus Grace walked all over the rocks exploring every bit of shoreline.  Later, reunited with Chris and Grace, we had a picnic on one of the tables scattered around the area.  It was hot in the sun so we did not linger.  We drove around a bit checking out other possible spots to swim--there were none--and then headed back to the cottage.  After a quick trip to the lighthouse, we headed back to Mac's beach, the beach near the caves.  We swam.  Sophie and Ella the most.  It was very cold, not so much that it took our breath away but shocking.  There was much fun and laughter as the girls swam together and they were reluctant to head back to the cottage.
Chris grilled dinner and we ate in the backyard.

Bay of Fundy 1

Continuation of the Canada Chronicles    
August 2018

The drive from Quebec City to St. Martins was the hardest leg of our trip so far.  Despite being shorter than the drive from Niagara to Quebec City, it felt twice as long.  We stopped at the Basilica of St. Anne Beupere for about an hour which delayed our arrival until after midnight after losing one hour to time change along the way.  For me, the most stressful parts of the drive were the stretches of highway with moose warning signs.  The "meese" tower over the little cars in a very menacing way.  Clearly, if a moose and car stand off, the car--or van--will lose.  I put myself on moose-spotting duty which was very stressful particularly when it got dark.  We listened to Prince Caspian on this leg.  I had a hard time focusing due to my state of high alert but the kids enjoyed it.
     In the description of the cottage we rented was a reference to a cliff on the property with a 200 foot drop.  I wasn't terribly worried about the cliff in daylight.  The girls are certainly old enough to avoid it but driving down unfamiliar roads in the dark made it a bit more concerning.  I imagined fatal drops on all sides.  Still, we made it, assigned all the beds and ended the day excited.  The cottage was tiny and cute and it all felt a lot like camping only with indoor plumbing.  After the girls got settled that first night, Chris and I went out to the little bench built into the deck 35 feet from the cottage.  It was clearly meant to be an observation point.  The night was incredibly dark and at first, I could not see even an outline of anything around me.  Gradually, my eyes adjusted and as I looked heavenward, I could see dustings of stars across the sky.  It wasn't the normal points of light I see when I stargaze, more like someone had dipped a paintbrush in star dust and swirled it here and there across the black.  I sat on the bench overwhelmed with exhaustion and amazement until I heard a door open and a little voice wondering where we were.  The strange cottage and bed were too much without a parental presence close by.  Goodbye beautiful sky.  I will be back before we leave.  Actually, as it turned out, I did not go back out in the pitch black another night.  I have one memory of that scene and I will treasure it.
     Aside from the cliff, which turned out to truly be a 200 foot drop to a rocky beach, the highlight of the cottage was its proximity to a bonafide working lighthouse.  The sounds of horns and bells were a treat but the view from lighthouse hill was breathtaking.  I enjoyed the view from the cottage's cliff but it was a very small one because of all of the pines and other trees growing at the edge and literally holding the ground together.  The lighthouse view was entirely different.  It was wide in both directions and there was plenty of room to roam the hillside for different vistas--which Sophie did more than anyone.  Ella found wild blueberries that her dad gave her permission to eat.  Mia brought her journal and sat in a narrow spot that jutted out over the water a bit and then went back with Madeleine one morning to watch the sunrise.  The scene reminded me a bit of The Count of Monte Cristo because of the rocky jutting bits of cliff.  It was more beautiful than my heart could hold.  Even more amazing to me was the fact that we had it all to ourselves.  We have certainly done and paid for touristy things in Canada but so many moments that we have treasured have been personal and private, our tiny band alone in God's great, big, beautiful world.  To say we have been blessed is an understatement.  I feel lavished upon.
     Who is man that God created this incredible world for his delight?  Baffling, unanswerable question.  We have lived it on this trip and I am so grateful.

All By Myself

(post written December 2014)

The girls have been reading the blog books lately.  There are only two and, thick though they are, they only cover about 8 months of the several years I blogged.  Grace in particular has absorbed every word I wrote and will randomly quote my words back to me.  It's humbling really.  When I was writing the blog, I suppose I wasn't thinking ahead very much to the day when the girls would be my most avid readers and fans.  But they are.  They want to know their mother and their own history.
Unfortunately, I have fallen out of the blog habit.  I have tried to kick start it again but so far, no luck.    Tonight though, I have something to say to my babes.
I am in Austin.  Alone.  Tomorrow I will pick David up at the airport and we will surprise Neil in honor of his 40th birthday next week.  I can't imagine not being here to celebrate with Neil.  It will be one of those moments that stays with me.  A moment that puts some of the spice in my life.  Today though, I arrived in Houston alone.  I picked up my rental car and drove, rather sleepily, to my hotel near the Austin airport.  I had a day to spend in my own company.  What luxury.
I happen to love being alone.  Not all of the time but some of my best time.  I have always loved solo adventures.  When I was young, my skate board took me to 7-11 for a slurpee.  When I was a little older, I mounted my ten speed and rode to Mount Vernon.  My mind always raced faster than my legs on these journeys.  I imagined, solved problems and dreamt.  I was not lonely.
These days, I can board a plane and explore a new city or take a road trip.  Much as I love doing those things with other people, some of my best days are still spent alone.  It is when I am alone that I reconnect with myself.  I remember silly things like how much I love sappy country music.  I stop at every single scenic overlook because I am not in a hurry.  I feast my eyes on the sky.  It is so different everywhere I go.
Many people have told me that I must be an extrovert.  I am comfortable talking to pretty much anyone anywhere.  And I love people.  But interactions with other people do not fill me up.  It is the quiet moments, the solitary moments, the moments that remind me that my journey, though laid side by side with those I love, is still mine.

Phantom

(SPOILERS!  If you haven't seen Les Mis or Phantom of the Opera proceed with caution!)

Biggest fan

We are full of the phantom here at Casa Doyle.  It all started when Ella found out that the traveling Broadway production was coming to Pittsburgh and she began lobbying.  She offered to pay for tickets if one of her sweet parents would take her.  Instead, Chris decided to take the whole kit and caboodle, the entire motley crew, all seven of us Frodos.  March 3rd was the last day of the run and we attended the very last performance.  In the snow.  Large beautiful flakes fell on our heads as we walked the short distance from the parking garage to the Benedum.  Many kind theatre employees held umbrellas and helped shuffle the crowd inside as quickly as possible.  We found our seats easily but only after Ella made the souvenir purchase she had been planning, a mask on a chain that she has not taken off since. It is the first thing I have seen her buy with her own money aside from one used book, candy (too much) and Christmas gifts.
I have to admit, even with Ella's incredible enthusiasm, I had only marginally looked forward to the play.  Les Mis is my favorite of favorites and I could not remember much about the story of the Phantom.  Since the show, that has changed.  I have been listening to the music constantly, not only because the girls have the sheet music and have been playing it instead of the music they are supposed to be practicing for piano festival (Ahem!) but because I have been trying to "get" the story. What is really happening here?  What I have discovered has amazed me.  Les Mis and POTO may be totally different stories but boil them down a bit and you get to the same heart of the matter--mercy versus judgement and the power of love to heal and transform.  In many ways, it is the same message one might hear in a homily.  In a story though, instead of being told, we are shown.  Which is why stories are so powerful.
Take Les Mis for instance.  The first key moment is when the bishop forgives Jean Valjean for stealing the silver and tells him to use it to change his life and become a good man.  Suddenly, the silver itself becomes as nothing in comparison with the bishop's mercy, which is really God's mercy.  Jean Valjean chooses to accept that gift and becomes an instrument of mercy himself when, in the final important moment, he forgives and releases Javert, his persecutor.  Sadly, because Javert is so wedded to the idea of the supreme importance of justice, he cannot accept mercy and chooses to bring judgement on himself in the form of suicide.

Ella's necklace

On the surface, The Phantom of the Opera is the ultimate love story and there are at least three kinds of love in the play: romantic love, parent-child love and love of music.  The phantom is a miserable and broken soul, a basement dweller who shuts out the light of day, of life and of love.  As the story unfolds, we discover that the rejection he experienced as a result of his deformities spurred him to embrace that rejection and live a life outside of society becoming not only a phantom but a kidnapper and murderer.  He tells Christine that he has to live in hell, "not for any mortal sin" but for his face.  Wow!  Who talks about mortal sin? Normally a priest not a mask-wearing villain who, by the way, has committed a couple of mortal sins since becoming a basement dweller.  Which is of course the problem with shutting oneself up away from the light, you tend to become dark.
The Phantom demands that Christine choose a life with him and freedom for Raoul or Raoul's death and freedom for herself.  Rather than choose, she sings so beautifully, "Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?  God give me courage to show you, you are not alone."  Then she kisses him tenderly, saving both him and herself.  Be still my heart!
While "All I Ask of You" oozes romance, this moment of crisis in the watery basement is the pinnacle of true love.  Who among us should not be asking God to give us the courage to show those lonely, broken people in our lives that they are not alone?  Perhaps not with a lingering kiss on the lips, but still!
What is love?  It is empathy and sacrifice and risk and action in the critical moment.  Most importantly, it always comes from God.  As this beautiful play points out so clearly, the light of God's love is present in the darkest of basements.  Not just in Paris opera houses but in every house, everywhere.

I love this play!
But---probably not as much as Ella.

We had a post-play feast back at CD.  Sophie made the dessert.

Daddy-Grams 2019

Which was the first year that Chris made his special Valentines for the girls?  I do not know but they have become a joyfully anticipated staple of our February 14th routine.  I play support person by choosing and printing pictures but Chris does the rest.  I always have favorites and this year, it is a tie between G's and mine.  G's for cuteness of image and message and mine because it is so funny.  Since when do zebras chase lions?  And why is Chris so solemn?  Am I outrunning him?  That seems unlikely.  In addition to cards, Chris laid out breakfast for the girls including ready-to-pour pancake batter.  He truly knows the way to their hearts!

As for me, I was treated to a five course dinner on the 12th at our local brewery.  It was so much fun and not too fancy which is the way I like it.  The beer pairings were brilliant and I especially enjoyed the sour cherry beer I sampled midway through dinner.  Conversation-wise, the best part was when we each took a quiz to discover our Star Wars character (as I said, it was a casual dinner).  Chris got Hans Solo and I got Luke which did not make me happy as he is so much more whiny than I am 😉

I really like Valentine's Day because it can be a lot or not much and still be just right.