Not everything has been going our way lately. Because of this, yesterday was a very good day.

Two things to complain about: the rain and the Mass. The rain has been plentiful this summer. Too plentiful. The only thing more plentiful than the rain has been the mosquitos. Meanwhile, the Mass has been frustrating. Mass? I Meant Massk. Or was that the holy sacrifice of the Mask? Call it what you will, but when a priest becomes afraid of COVID, it becomes a hellish nightmare for the parish. Or what's left of the parish.

God is good. Yesterday we ended up at a Mass in a nearby town. Our third in four months. The Mass there is usually a challenge, liturgically speaking. But what a difference four months makes. The Mass yesterday was just a normal Mass. No incessant talk on The Virus. No masks and gloves.  No hand pumping of sanitizer every 34 seconds. Just a small, practical, and very normal Mass (liturgical challenges and all). I cannot tell you enough how refreshed our souls were afterwards! Thanks be to God.

As for the rain... rain brings colder temperatures. We were leaving a house sitting session for my parents - out on their acreage - later that afternoon. As were preparing to leave my wife somehow locked our keys in our van. Haha. 

Wait... our ten month old boy was trapped inside in his car seat! I have never felt so helpless watching him sitting there through the tinted window. Absolutely gut-wrenching. But, as it's been very rainy, the day was cool. In the twenty or so stressful minutes it took for the tow-truck to arrive, the van did not heat up much at all. Our little ten-month-old Jude did quite well. His parents lost a few years off their lives, but otherwise are very grateful. To top it off, the tow truck guy refused to accept any payment for his service.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God" (Romans 8:28). Amen.

One last thing. Rain means crazy big potato plants! 

Deo Gratias!

Jude at 9 months

 

It was hard to limit myself to just these seven photos of our fat little Jude. At nine months old and probably some 25lbs or more, our Jude is a crazy, cute, and cantankerous little man. We are all obsessed with babies in our house and just can not get enough of this guy. Despite his destructive ways, he continues to be the most popular member of our family.

Jude's favourite activities are many, and include (in no particular order): picking and eating grass (see 3rd & 4th pics above), eating food off the floor or his highchair after a meal, eating pencil crayons and paper, eating anything he gets his hands on, wrecking MagnaTile structures, pulling his sister's hair, hitting his sister, switching the buttons on the organ amp, emptying cupboards, playing with the potty, charging for the stairs, playing football and especially touchdown cheers (see 2nd pic above), crawling at high speed around the house,  going for walks, baths, swinging in swings, dancing, singing the Salve Regina, nursing (especially at night), cuddling with his mommy (*just kidding* this boy does not cuddle), watching birds, playing with Grandpa's toothpick, FaceTime with his Ontario Grandparents. 

He runs our life and we're pretty sure he's proud of this fact. 

Life with Four: Family Update

Hello, hello, ye old blog!

Life is just flying by and this blog post I started at least a month ago is still sitting here unfinished.

Although we've been used to a "stay home" agenda much of the time since Jude was born, self-quarantine rules due to COVID-19 mean it's not our choice anymore and... sometimes it feels a bit old. You'd think that would give me more time, but it doesn't seem to be the case.

In many ways, four kids has been a bit of a tipping point. We are doubly outnumbered as parents. We added a crazy-busy little dude to our mix. We're homeschooling, teaching school, and running a home. Our house is a constant flurry of noise and various stages of chaos. We're tired just keeping up with it all.

But... that's life. Sometimes you get those little breaks and other times it's full-tilt growth.

FROM BIRTH TO SEVEN MONTHS - KIDS GROWING UP

AND NOW FOR A LITTLE FAMILY UPDATE:

JUDE

He's seven months old now, sports two bottom teeth (with a top one on the verge of break-through... so probably next week! ha!), crawls at an alarming speed, pulls himself up to standing and tipping points, eats meat like a carnivore, nurses like it's his only food source, drools steadily, gives his parents a challenge at bedtime, and smiles and laughs like the sweetest baby ever. We are all smitten with him! I don't know what we ever did without him, but I recall that life was easier.



EMILIE

She's almost four ... because her birthday is next and she's been talking about her cake for the last ten months! She's a sweet little lady who loves to colour, wear her baby, build cakes for everyone from pattern blocks, help mama bake and change Jude, and go for walks. She's got a temper like her ____ and frequently asserts herself in loud, screaming tones. Emilie struggled with Lent and her own sacrifices; she wants all the food all the time, so giving up cereal for bedtime snack was challenging. She fills our days with laughter and jokes only a three year old can tell.

JOHN PAUL

He turned six years old at the end of March. He's a quick little student and has reading and writing accomplished beyond his grade; his math skills are also exceptional. John Paul loves to draw and colour, make little gifts for family members, tap tap tap at his workbench in the basement, and play Legos for hours on end. He almost single-handedly rebuilt many of our Lego sets this winter, although frequently came asking, "Can you help me find this piece?" or, if stumped, simply moved on to another set. He's always been a bit of a difficult one from a parental point of view, but has a heart of gold, works very hard, and is always ready to cheer everyone up.




JOSEPH

At eight years old, Joseph is preparing to receive his First Holy Communion and Confirmation (it was supposed to be this week but has been postponed indefinitely), excelling at grade 3 despite "not liking school," and keeping himself busy every other second. He loves to build, create, and try new things; he's always inventing something or drawing out plans, but it's quite as attentive to cleaning up his attempts. He's on a hunting and spying kick at the moment, trying to lay still in bushes to get close to birds all the while planning out ways to hunt down his prey. Joseph is an attentive, if slightly domineering older brother (he gets it from his ____). He can be trusted to take care of Jude and keep the others in line (even if they don't like it). He loves to read and has read nearly 100 books this school year (at least, the ones we've kept track of and not counting Hardy Boys re-reads).


BECCA

I just turned thirty-four. Alarming! Besides the ordinary daily life busy-ness, I'm finishing up a course to become a Billings Ovulation Method instructor (NFP), planning our summer garden, and deep cleaning our house. I'm attempting to finish my 800 page Anna Karenina and have decided there's a very good reason huge classics have been abridged (unfortunately, this copy is not abridged).

DAN

Do I have to continue with the age references? Ha! Dan is working from home, teaching grade 5 and frustrated with our slow-moving school division. After five months of paternity leave after Jude was born, it seems like our life has simply returned to those days, except that his "office" has relocated to the basement and he's not learning French. We celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary on Good Friday by postponing our celebration to April 14th. We then pigged out on homemade ribs, beverages, and pie. The kids were delighted with us for "dressing up" in our wedding clothes, humorously reciting our vows, and having a wedding dance party.

Treat Each Birth as Your First, Your Last, Your Only

Announcing Jude Charles Millette. Born a healthy 8lbs, 10oz, on August 28 at 9:36am. Mother and son are doing well.

The whole experience reminds me of the old spiritual maxim for priests: Say every Mass as if it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass. This birth reminds me of having our first child, our last child, our only child.

This is our last child in the sense of our most recent child (not as a "no more kids for us!"). We showed up at the hospital not too early, and not too late. The doctor and nurses were very respectful, not at all pushy, and overall just tremendous. Becca was a champ at getting the baby out. The doctor even remarked, on more than one occasion, that Becca should be inducted into the Obstetric Hall of Fame (probably non-existent). The nurses afterwards left us alone as much as they were allowed to. And, amazingly, the doctor even sent us home the same day, which is quite rare. What a difference a few kids make! When our first child was born we were treated as know-nothing, clueless, and utterly lost parents. Maybe the staff was just affirming the reality, but it sure didn't make the hospital experience happy. I suppose that's a strategy: Make the young parents feel like they won't want to have more children. However, by the fourth child? A Whole New World.

This feels like our only child in the sense that our other three children went to grandma's and grandpa's house for the night when we brought Jude home. So there Becca and I were. Alone with just one baby. We treasured him as our only child; gave him our undivided attention. Loved and cuddled him. Just him.

It is true that a newborn is far more work than three other energetic kids put together, and that adding a newborn to the mix of three children is chaotic, but by the next morning we were adamant: We want our other kids back! Jude certainly noticed when his siblings came. Somehow, the louder they got, the calmer he became. It must be true, babies can hear everything from their mother's womb.

And the experience was also like having our first child in that we forget what it's like! Take that first night. We hold the little guy for a while. Then I take him to the bathroom for one last little diaper change before putting him to sleep. So precious. But a goodnight's rest is in order.

I unwrap the diaper, and he's of course covered, up to his arm pits, with that dark-sticky tar poo that only a newborn can have. On the front and back of him. Just buckets and buckets of this stuff. If the doctor complains that our baby is losing weight, I'll tell him why. It was the biggest poo I can ever remember. And I panicked. It's been so long. I'm not a seasoned pro after all. I called for backup. Yes, Becca had just given birth that day, but desperate times call for, you know.

We got him changed. I did some laundry. Sheepishly I volunteered to make amends by watching Jude while Becca slept. And I held him on the couch. He fussed. I kept holding him. 

10pm. Man, what a long day. 

11pm. Yep, that first day is exhausting. 

12pm. Sleep sure would be good, if he could just settle down. 

1am. St. Jude, patron of impossible cases... pray for us. 

2am. Oh for crying out loud. No, I take that back. Don't cry out loud.

Eventually I got a few hours of sleep in. That tired feeling! Drifting around as in a daze. Unable to pronounce words properly. Not being able to do little things like fold clothes, or walk straight. I forgot about that feeling. I feel like a rookie.

Every birth, in some sense, should be treated as if it was the first, the last, and the only. Few things in life are this precious.

Note: This article was previously posted at www.bravestthing.com.