More pictures

Peter is getting better at using his hands -- he can grab things now and bring them to his mouth. He's also getting "better" at cooing (I put that in quotes because his lovely, pretty-sounding coos are being replaced by all kinds of strange noises, garbles, and growls. He kind of sounds like a little pirate!)

This is how Jack and Thomas interpret the words "Boys, please clean up the front room now"

Peter's adoring smile for Thomas

Jack in the box. He brought down his pillow and bed toys to the box because he decided "it would be a good place for a rest".

So happy! I believe it was some of the Barber sisters that said he has "lightbulb hair"--- you are so right! His hair is definitely getting big again, but there is still a disturbing lack of eyebrow. Is it time to nickname him Whoopi yet?

David braved the madhouse that is the DMV today on my behalf. Thank you, David!! After a wait and a bit of a hassle, he successfully retrieved the sticker for my license plate, and now all I have to do is track down a CHP officer to make me right with the law. I'll keep you posted on that!

Otherwise, we're all doing well! I'm trying to take it easy this week because I've felt a bit tired and ragged lately. I'm letting things slide a little bit, and am mentally trying to ignore the many projects I have on my to-do list that just aren't getting done. Realistically, I don't think I'll be able to make much progress on special projects until maybe this fall, when Peter's daytime naps are more regular. And that's OK. I was reading a neat article by Fr. Ron Rolheiser that compares the life of a mom to the life of a monk - I can definitely relate! Now I have lots and lots of little monastic bells to listen for :). Here's an excerpt:

"For example, the mother who stays home with small children experiences a very real withdrawal from the world. Her existence is definitely monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from the centres of power and social importance. And she feels it. Moreover her sustained contact with young children (the mildest of the mild) gives her a privileged opportunity to be in harmony with the mild, that is, to attune herself to the powerlessness rather than to the powerful.

Moreover, the demands of young children also provide her with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects of monasticism, called the "monastic bell". All monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules for monasticism, told his monks that whenever the monastic bell rang, they were to drop whatever they were doing and go immediately to the particular activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which the bell was summoning them. He was adamant that they respond immediately, stating that if they were writing a letter they were to stop in mid-sentence when the bell rang. The idea in his mind was that when the bell called, it called you to the next task and you were to respond immediately, not because you want to, but because it's time for that task and time isn't your time, it's God's time. For him, the monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda to God's agenda.

Hence, a mother raising children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative, is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while raising children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place, and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it's time for that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time.