Self-taken family photo from before Christmas

Do you ever get tired of endless blogs with mostly pictures and a few interwoven sentences about what we're up to? I hope not, because I'm constantly badgered to post more pictures by my Joseph-obsessed sisters and, frankly, these kinds of posts are easy and enjoyable.

Here's a Joseph post for all you fans! Oh wait, that's nothing new.

We have recently hit a new stage in picture taking that involves Joseph clamoring to see the photo before it's even taken. I'll whip out the camera to capture something cute, possibly tell him to smile, and he'll be running over to see the results.

I love this combination of quirky and cute!

Look at all those teeth!

In the past few weeks I have been shocked to find, upon looking at pictures I've just taken of Joseph, that our baby is growing up. In fact, he's a little boy now! These photos each capture something of the little boy that our baby is turning out to be. Joseph is just like his Daddy with his use of eyebrow communication. I used to tell Dan on the phone that I had a hard time knowing what he really meant when he would say something, because I couldn't see his eyebrows. And it's becoming true for Joseph too!

Along with this growing up, Joseph is developing his own little attitude. We have recently had to trot him off to his bedroom during a whining/crying bout. I don't think we can quite term it a tantrum yet, so maybe it's just his molars that are taking their sweet time making their full appearance?! We'll sit him in his room, tell him he can come back when he's happy, and leave. Anywhere from 30 seconds to 2-3 minutes later a smiling, chatty kid comes wandering back into the kitchen. No matter how many times the same routine occurs in a very short period, without fail he always comes back each time with a smile. 

What a poser!

On the weekend, Joseph and I decided to go through his too-small clothes and sort them into boxes for whenever the next little Millette boy comes along. We discovered the above bear pj's that fit him perfectly. He donned them over his clothes and kept them on all day. We didn't mind, because he was just so soft and cuddly!

More and more Joseph is fully able to understand what we're telling him, whether it's instructions or activities we're going to do or whatever. Yet, we still find ourselves saying things we never expected to when he can't seem to fathom why some things just aren't done. Some anecdotes from this week may give you an idea of our daily life: "Do you even understand English?"; "You can't sit beside the toilet!"; "That's enough toilet paper!"; "No, don't flush the toilet!"; "Where are the rest of the pots?"

With Grandpa Millette, one of his most favourite people in the world

And, of course, our little man is not sleeping through the night. It's likely that our night-time sleeping drama will continue for years to come. But napping is our specialty -- not!

Dan and I were talking in the kitchen one afternoon last week, enjoying the quiet that comes only when Joseph is napping. All of a sudden we hear thunk and look at one another in surprise. Oh no, he must have fallen out of bed. {His mattress and box-spring are on the floor, so it wouldn't be far to fall} Then pitter, patter, pitter patter. Joseph came walking into the room and without skipping a beat started with his usual endless stream of chatter. He has now figured out that if he thinks his nap is over, he can come right out himself. The thunk, thankfully, was the door.

Another day Dan came home early, again while Joseph was still napping. He greeted me and then left for our bedroom to change out of his dress clothes. I hear: "Um, is there supposed to be a little boy standing in the hallway?" I came out to investigate and immediately upon seeing me, Joseph ran for his room. He knew very well he wasn't supposed to be up yet.

And that is our Joseph the Moseph!

A+ for the Day

As a teacher I have always believed that there is just one way to earn an A+ from me. That way involves hard work, dedication, good behaviour, and high intelligence. However, having now taught grade one for a couple of months now, I have since discovered a second way to earn an A+ from "Mr. Millette."

There I am on a Wednesday afternoon at around 1:40pm. Being an 80% full-time teacher, I'm excited to be going home in 20 minutes. I'm teaching my students the art of skip-counting as a way to save time. Suddenly there is an announcement over the intercom:

"Sorry for the interruption... could we have all teachers report to the gym at 3:30 to help carry in and set up the portable stage for the upcoming Kindergarten Circus.... Thank you."

"Awww come on!" I protest loudly in front of my students. 

"I'm going home at 2! Give me one good reason why I should wait until after school to set up the stupid stage!!"

Then from the back of the room one quiet young boy, without skipping a beat, pipes up:

"Because you have the biggest muscles in the school, Mr. Millette..."

"A+ for you!!!"

He's a good boy, that young guy. Quiet, but pretty smart. He has that A+ quality to him.

For the record, I went home at 2pm...

and I had a pretty good workout.

Abortion & Weapons Against the Demon

We are once again approaching the fateful day of January 28th when the Supreme Court struck down the abortion laws in this country. On Friday, in the U.S., hundreds of thousands will march in protest against the legalization of abortion in America. It has been 40 years since the Roe vs. Wade decision legalized abortion in the U.S. The atrocity that is abortion continues to, literally, tear our country and its citizens apart.

I was struck anew by the horror of abortion earlier today when I read Catholic blogger Simcha Fisher's post at the National Catholic Register, entitled Eight Reasons Not to Use Graphic Abortion Images at the March for Life. Pro-lifers are familiar with the debate: should we use images of aborted babies in order to show the truth of abortion? Here in Canada, bishops have refused participation in the March for Life because some pro-life protesters display graphic images. The issue is deeply divisive. 

For many years now I too have continued to feel uncomfortable with graphic abortion images displayed in public. Having written for LifeSiteNews for a time and done lots and lots of reading, I can honestly say I have heard both sides to the argument. I have heard very convincing talks on the need for using graphic imagery; and I know many, many people who are convinced that this method will in fact bring about the end of abortion. There are very strong reasons both for and against displaying these images. 

But today, Simcha's blog post brought home two important points that I hadn't thought of or hadn't understood before.

 Mothers have to see these images. "Motherhood makes a woman's heart tender." Wow! It's true! I could watch violent movies or sappy movies easily before becoming a mother and would never cry. Now, I get all teary at the silliest of movies. "The pro-life movement should be a shelter that protects that tenderness -- because the world needs it desperately." This point struck home for me. Having lost one little baby through miscarriage, I concur with what Simcha points out, that for many women this pain runs very deep and these images are a reminder of that pain.

But the point that struck me more was one that, perhaps, doesn't seem to have much place in the debate. "Desensitization is a real danger -- even among pro-lifers." I read this argument and immediately realized its truth for me. I am not saying that I am not horrified when I see images of aborted babies, but I certainly know that I am not nearly as horrified as the first time I saw such an image. I remember the sickening feeling in my stomach, the intense sorrow, and the need to turn away from the horrifying reality of a murdered baby, when I first encountered these images at the March for Life. But, having seen, again and again, pictures in news ads of Choice Chains with these images or Genocide Awareness Project videos, I am less jarred and less touched. And I believe that this is cause for concern. We need not, as Simcha points out, see these images again and again. They stay with us, they haunt us, and so they should.

Now perhaps these arguments do not address whether others should see these images. It is true that many, many people change their views in favour of abortion to one opposed after viewing these images. But that, in itself, does not justify their use, just because the method works. Time and again I have wished that it were possible for some official Church statement to be released regarding the use of graphic abortion images. Do these images truly violate the human person (the real person in the photograph)? And does the end justify the means?

In the end, I know that this is a decision for each pro-life person to grapple with, whether they agree or disagree with this method in the pro-life movement and whether they themselves will take part in such a display. Yet I have always come back to the thought that, in order to irradiate abortion from our country, we need real and true suffering and sacrifice. If we pro-lifers really and truly want to see an end to abortion, this, I believe, should be our top weapon. The Gospels recounts Jesus' words that some demons require immense prayer and suffering to be cast out. Although we may never know how many people change their minds on abortion because of our prayers and sufferings, I believe that until we make this method real in our lives, we cannot hope for change.

For the Love of...

How quickly people forget.

Last night facebook was abuzz with excited comments about how the NHL is back. People were making very public plans about where and who they were going to watch the game with. Updates were being given every few minutes on the scores.

Lockout? What lockout?

For the record, Joseph and I played mini-sticks last night. I gave Joseph a bath too. Becca and I spent some time reading. We even watched Corner Gas for a while. But we did not watch hockey. Today I am going to brave the 43 below cold (with the windchill) to watch some of my students play hockey at the rink. We've also spent a fair chunk of the year following the WHL, and especially the Red Deer Rebels (whom my cousin plays for). Quite frankly, it's been nice to spend more time watching hockey with those who play for the love of the game, and not for the love of money. I'll come back to follow the NHL, maybe a little later. But not right now. I just can't do it.

Sadly, yesterday greed was given a big old thumbs up by the fans. Yes, remember the fans? The ones who complained that they were the ones being abused throughout the lockout? Oh wait, that's right, what lockout? Who's playing tonight?

Music to my Ears

Our house has been filled with music of late. I commented to my dear husband the other night that he's extremely talented with his ability to pick up any instrument and play it. His response, "I'm a jack of all trades, but master of none," implied he'd much rather be really, really good at one. Yet, he can sit down at piano, drums, guitar, organ, electrical guitar, harmonica, accordion, and saxophone (that I know of) and make music. I, meanwhile, am a jack of one trade musically and master of none. 

Joseph's self-invented drum set

Almost nightly, my boys have their jam session in the living room, with many instruments and vocals involved. Lacking a bass guitarist, Dan has taken up playing the organ pedals for his accompaniment with guitar. The organ even has a couple settings for synthetic drum beats that he makes use of. That means Dan is playing at least guitar, bass, drums, and vocals all at once.

Joseph's 'microphone'

 Joseph, meanwhile, has become our lead vocalist with his new mic. While at the funeral luncheon for our dear friend Mrs Hickey two weeks ago, Joseph saw her great-granddaughter 3 year-old Maria sing her 'ABCDs' on the mic. He later took it into his head that Daddy's guitar stand would be the perfect mic. So when Daddy plays music, Joseph brings me the guitar stand to lower to his height so he can sing in his own mic.

For a few weeks now, Joseph has also been trying and trying to learn harmonica. After much work, he mastered the art of blowing into a recorder in the Summer, but harmonica seemed to be giving him a greater challenge. To compensate, he would make his own humming noise with the harmonica at his lips, but it just wasn't cutting it for him.

This morning Joseph was adamant he needed to bring the harmonicas and their case into the bathroom as I was dressing him. He was delighted, thrilled when I let him putter around with one as I changed his diaper. But when a real little squeak came out of the harmonica for the first time, he was over the top. "Oooo," he gave me huge, shocked eyes. Again and again he tried, each time getting a little more noise and a bigger and bigger "Oooo". I ran to grab the camera only to realize that Dan took it to school today. These cell phone photos will have to do.

We still have yet to pick up Dan's drum set from Nipawin. I'm a little reluctant to welcome drums into my house, but I know my dear mother-in-law has put up with it for many years now and is dying for us to take it off her hands. So soon our house may resemble something like this, too:

From the Summertime: Like Father, Like Son

Our House

Doesn't that just sound lovely, folks? 'Our house'. I am delighted to write my first, and long overdue, blog from our new house. And it's not so little, as you may soon see.

We've settled down in Tisdale, SK for the time being. Tisdale is the 'Land of Rape and Honey', the Beeland. Every time I see this welcome sign, I laugh and cringe. It should come as no surprise that comedian Brent Butt of Corner Gas hails from this little town. They have a weird sense of humour alright!

We live on a very quiet little street just two blocks from Dan's school, Tisdale Elementary, and walking distance to 'main street'. But let's face it, this is Tisdale and it's no big city, so practically everything (everything that's here, that is) is walking distance or a very short drive.

And here's our house. So if you want to come scout us out, just look for the house with the dirty, silver Dodge Grand Caravan with the dent in the back bumper.

At something slightly more than 1,100 square feet, this little house has three bedrooms upstairs, one downstairs, 1.5 baths, a large living room, kitchen, 'dining' area, and a rec/library/workout room downstairs.

Upon entering our house, from the back door, you will find yourself in a little entrance way with stairways to the basement and kitchen. And here's the kitchen and dining area. Clearly I'm neither an artistic photographer nor in the least embarrassed by the dishes that have been on the counter since breakfast and the veggie peelings that, if you look really closely, you can still see adorning the counter top. (yikes!). 

We are still in various stages of chaotic unpacking here. We have tons and tons of extra space, but still own relatively little in the way of furniture. Everything office and desk related is still in open, messy boxes, and our poor saints statues are delegated the only free flat surface, an organ top. Here's the 'office' which I hope sometime may be an office and share space with a little sewing corner for the machine taking up residence on the floor.

Here's our bedroom, with our newest big purchase: a lovely, queen-size bed. Unfortunately, I've only had 2hr stints in this bed, as our darling toddler and his molars see fit to require Mommy in his bed most of the night.

Joseph's room is nearly as big as ours and home to Grandpa and Grandma's old bed that is as big as ours. Little Joseph is nearly lost in the hugeness of his bed, but as he likes to share it with Mommy and Daddy for reading at night we're happy with the extra space.

And here's the little angel himself. I couldn't resist a quick photo while he slept this afternoon.

Lest you think I'm a terrible housekeeper, a quick disclaimer: I took most of these pictures in whatever state the rooms were in because if I spent my time tidying up, this blog would never get written. There's clean laundry to be folded, the guitar stand in the middle of the floor because someone likes to play with it, and all our library finds sprawling everywhere. So here's the living room, with some old couches we asked our landlords to leave in the house so as to prolong the days until we have to fork out the money to buy our own. In the bottom left-hand corner (out of site) is an organ, which you'll see and hear more of (not literally though) in a later post.

And, finally, the basement rec-room. We thought we had a lot of books. In fact, we do have a lot of books; they took up at least 12-15 boxes and two car loads to move them all here. But when we put most of them on these built in shelves, our library looks a little sparse. We started the organization process down here, but have yet to complete it and finish unpacking some more boxes. On the other side of the room is Dan's weight bench and various exercise equipment. 

So there you have it: our house. We have a long way to go before we really feel established with our own style and furnishings (clearly we have no style now!). But all in all, it's nice to have a little place to call our own and slowly begin to make our own. I have big plans for building things: tables, bookshelves, etc. but for now they remain plans in my head. I'm no carpenter and Dan tells me it's ludicrous to try building without the proper tools and proper area. Perhaps in the Spring or Summer. But, who knows, by then we might be pulling up roots to pack and move all over again.

The Formal Clincher

Becca and I recently received an emailed invitation to the Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Winter Formal. Now this is the annual Academy shin-dig for those young students to dress up all fancy and have a good time. I figure some of these kids are 10+ years younger than myself. Becca and I are too busy raising a family and working to fly out for this shin-dig. But all the best to those who attend.

I remember fondly when I used to go to the (then Christmas) formal. We'd all get dressed up. Then we'd go and eat some cold pasta. Afterwards I would end up doing dishes, in my suit, for 2.5 hours. Then it was off to bed. As 'Beard' at the Co-op would say: "Sounds like a pretty good time.'

That was how I experienced the formal. But in reality we all knew that for many the formal was also the Clincher.

Think about it this way. These kids come to the Academy from all over the country. They see the same people everyday. They go to the same classes together. They eat at the same table. They go to the same Masses. They play sports together. In fact, never can it be said that young people spend more time together then at the Academy. And this is not just guys hanging out with guys, and girls hanging out with girls. Oh no no no, we're talking guys and girls hanging out with each other.

Well the year goes along. Soon you start to notice that Johnny Impressher and Rosie O'Iwannabeamom are hanging out a little more together. Next thing you know they are walking to the grocery store together, or even seen studying alone in the library. Then the most awful thing happens. They sit next to each other at church!!! New Academy students never realize this, but if a boy and a girl sit together at church in Barry's Bay then the whole community thinks they are engaged! So the boy and girl are told this, and they quickly avoid this plight. Things slow down.

Soon it is essay time (two people can't write exams together), exam time (hey, but they can study together!), and then everyone goes home for their Christmas break (phew!).

When Christmas break ends, these young students realize that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Aww how they've all missed each other. The way they laugh at each other's jokes! The philosophical discussions over whether it is better to have a large family (14 kids) or a small family (10 kids). And the semester is just beginning, so there is a fair bit of free time to spend with each other.

And then... and then... the formal hits. These young people get dressed up, in their very best clothes. They eat together, with the lights dimmed, and some light music in the background. They sip some $6 wine provided by the student-life fund. Soon dancing begins. They avoid each other for a while. Maybe they even dance with someone else, just to get things going. But soon it is unavoidable. They have their dance together. The song mysteriously changes from some "Don't Stop Believing" to a slower "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. They dance. They dance again. The night is spent dancing. They end up staying until the dance finishes. Well, the boy, ever the gentleman, offers to walk the lady home. Wow! The moon sure is beautiful tonight! The boy can see her all the more clearly. Golly she sure looks swell. She makes me happy. She must... she must... she must be the one!

The Clincher.

They become a couple. Either that very night, or at least within a week. Yes, I have seen it so many times, every year. The formal is the clincher. Friends become more than just friends. Budding relationships now become, well, formal.

The winter formal is well named.

TES

We're now in Tisdale, SK. This Saturday morning Becca, Joseph, and I made the long trek over to my school (all of a three minute walk). Here is Tisdale Elementary School:

It's an old school, built for the Canadian centennial. The heating/cooling is all messed up, as are all the clocks, tv's, alarm systems, sound systems, and, well, almost everything you can think of. But the old school definitely has character, which is often lacking in newer schools.

Here is the wall on the way to my classroom:

Mr. Millette's number 9:

My Room 102. It still needs a lot of work. But I'll keep chipping away at it:

A little learning centre I put up:

While at the school this morning we had a little exercise session. Becca was talking back to me so I made her run laps!

Joseph and I after a grueling game! He looks no worse for wear!

That's about it for now. I'll leave the blog about our new house to Becca.

I've Got a Fever...

This past Sunday Joseph and I went to the Tisdale Catholic Church (Immaculate Conception) for 9am Mass. Becca was sick at home (or so she said... I think she just wanted to watch NFL pregame shows). As Joseph and I attended Mass, one thing became quite certain: the parish here is quite sick, and even dying. But not to worry! The parish council has recognized the problem and is dealing with it!

"I've got a fever. And the only prescription is...

more old people!"

That's right! Old people were moving everywhere! Bless their hearts. There were old people moving about the sanctuary all throughout Mass. For instance, during the homily an older lady walked into the sanctuary and into a side room. She then came out and wandered around by the altar for a while, as if she was looking for something important. Since I am ever the optimist *cough* I figure her presence during the homily was of vital importance. She probably was fighting a demon in the side room, and came out looking for holy water. See! Old people are needed! There visible presence at every stage of the Mass is essential to the health of the parish!

Why, I could sense a true revival as 10 elderly people joined in the recession as Mass ended. In seeing them I saw Jesus. I saw that they were a true priesthood. No longer are we limited to just one priest. We are all priests! My only concern was that one of them might blow another hip. But like that would stop them! As one liturgically-active elderly lady once told a good priest friend of mine: "would that I could live past one-hundred, so that I could continue to serve the Lord as I am!" To which Father muttered in a low, somewhat sinister, tone "yeah, I'll bet you'd like that..."

There is only one thing better than having old people crawling around the church during Mass, doing this made up job, or that made up job: have them sit in their pews. That's right. This may sound incredibly harsh, but I'll say it anyway: your activity during Mass is not needed, nor wanted.

Gulp!

"What do you mean not needed? I have been a parishioner since Vatican II. Do you even know what Vatican II is? It requires my activity! The Spirit is moving through me! I AM Church!"

Oh yeah? Do you know what activity is needed from you?

Sit down.

Shut up.

Pray.

That's right. The best, and foremost way to be active at Mass, and to make a difference in the spirit of the Mass, is to participate through prayer. When Sacrosanctum Concilium (par. 14) from Vatican II calls everyone to "full and active participation" it is saying actuosa participatio. In other words: actual participation, and not so much active participation. And this prayerful actual participation goes a long way in making the Mass more fruitful.

For instance, Becca and I have been to several Masses in Montreal. We've been to the Oratory, to Notre Dame, to Mary Queen of the World, and to St. Patrick's. Now without a doubt the most beautiful of these places is Notre Dame Basilica.

It is stunning. Breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. And, um, a tourist shop and a den of thieves! They charge you just to go in and pray! Mass there is sung with a professional choir, and the biggest organ in Quebec. Yet, it's just not prayerful. You can sense it. In fact, it seems almost like a show when you go to Mass there.

On the other hand, take St. Patrick's church in Montreal. It is beautiful for sure, but not nearly to the degree as Notre Dame. It has a nice choir, and big organ, yet not as nice as Notre Dame. In every way it is like the English's wannabe version of the French Notre Dame. The little kid brother, if you will.

Yet Becca and I have both said this many times, Mass there is simply heavenly. It is peaceful. It is revitalizing. It is prayerful. You can really tell that people go there to pray. The priests there say Mass without any improv (and even do a Latin Novus Ordo, which is by far my favourite). They say the black and do the red. The congregation likewise is there to be taken in by the Sacred Mysteries, and be transformed. Their participation is actual, and the fruits of the Mass are thus made more apparent, and attainable.

So, dear Tisdale Elderly Community Club (aka the Catholic Church here). Yes, we all want to live active lifestyles when we get older. I commend you for that. Just don't live your active lifestyles during Mass. Live an actual lifestyle during Mass. Know one thing: we need your prayers at Mass, not your movement!

Your movement is not hip... it only breaks hips...

No Blog on the Horizon

Just a couple of brief notes:

The blog has not been getting many updates lately. Sorry. You see we moved to Tisdale over the break and that has taken up most of our time. And since we just moved, we do not have internet at our place yet (I write this from work). Also, little Joseph was quite sick over Christmas (as was I, later on) and that meant a lot of sleepless nights for us. So the blog has been ignored. We hope to get everything settled down within the next week or so.