Pete's newest word is "horsey." He first used it two days ago to correctly identify a Fisher Price toy. Yesterday, he picked up a stuffed giraffe and said "Horsey!"
Jenny corrected him. "It's not a horsey," she said sweetly. "It's a zebra."
Later, I took the three little ones to the grocery store. Jenny brought a headband with reindeer antlers on top. She asked if she could bring the "binoculars" in the store.
Katie corrected her. "They're not binoculars, Jenny. Binoculars are what you use when you go swimming."
I sat there in silence pondering that one. After a minute, she said, "Oh, no. Those are goggles." I'm really glad we cleared that one up.
Some days, I feel superfluous, much as Danielle Bean described earlier this month. Other days, well, zebras are spotted and deer are prized for their nice goggles, and I know I've got a long way to go with their education.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
So, you'll get a thousand words instead.
Bill keeps asking me when I'm going to post some photos. I've tried. Blogger is unable to complete my request. I see Blogger is able to do this for lots of other people, so I don't know what gives. I DO know that Blogger couldn't spell check my posts for about 2 weeks - a problem that went away as mysteriously as it came. Coincidentally, now that I can be assured that the most egregious of typos are spotted, I can't share the blinding glare of over 2000 lights on a 7 foot tall tree.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Holy Innocents
Lully, Lullay, thou little tiny child.
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
Lullay thou little tiny child
Bye, bye, lully, lullay
O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing
Bye, bye lully, lullay
Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children to slay.
Then woe is me, poor child, for thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For thy parting neither say nor sing,
Bye, bye lully, lullay.
Since Blogger isn't letting me upload photos.
This is what the LORD says:
"A voice is heard in Ramah,
mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because her children are no more."
Jeremiah 31:15
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
Lullay thou little tiny child
Bye, bye, lully, lullay
O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing
Bye, bye lully, lullay
Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children to slay.
Then woe is me, poor child, for thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For thy parting neither say nor sing,
Bye, bye lully, lullay.
Since Blogger isn't letting me upload photos.
This is what the LORD says:
"A voice is heard in Ramah,
mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because her children are no more."
Jeremiah 31:15
PT goals
Back in October, I wrote about two out of three PT goals for this year: one was to run the Army Ten Miler, the other was to run 250 miles in total. I never did write about the other one, and I really wasn't sure I would actually accomplish it.
My third PT goal was to pass the Army PT test (also known as the APFT). There are three categories for the test: push-ups (for 2 minutes), sit-ups (for 2 minutes) and a two mile run. For each event you earn a score based on how many you do or how fast you are. You must get at least 60 points in each event for a minimum of 180 points to pass. Your gender and your age influence your score; I, a 35 year old female, am not expected to do as many push-ups as my husband, a 38 year old male, who is not expected to do as many push-ups as a 30 year old male.
I needed to do 15 push-ups and 42 sit-ups to pass. My run time had to be faster than 21 minutes and 42 seconds. Back in June was the first time I tested myself, and I had the run time down, no problem. But I could only do 2 (yes, TWO) push-ups and 18 sit-ups. By September, I was up to 8 push-ups and 31 sit-ups.
By the way, sit-ups are really hard, especially if you've had 5 babies. I've done crunches over the years, but hadn't done full sit-ups since high school. When I first started working on this goal, I could not do a single one. Not a single one.
And push-ups? I have never been able to do those. My husband looks so beautiful doing them. Really. He can knock out the fifteen that I have to do without breaking a sweat. I think he does some ridiculous number like 60 when he takes the test. Sixty!
...
...
...
Sorry, I just got distracted there for a bit daydreaming about my husband's rippling muscles.
Anyway...oh, yes, my push-ups are not nearly as pretty, and if my husband were counting them, I probably would only have earned 3 or 4 (there are strict rules about what actually counts as a push-up), but I did manage to wobble through 15 of them to get the minimum 60 points. I also did 42 sit-ups - disappointing since I've done more, but I'll take the 60 points. And my run time was 18 minutes 48 seconds which earns the average score of 80 points for a grand total of 200. And so, I passed.
For this coming year, I think I'll stick with the same goals: 250 total miles; some race, perhaps a 10k instead of 10 miles; and passing the APFT - maybe with 15 good push-ups. This seems like a downgrade - after all, shouldn't I run more miles (currently, I've run 379 for the year), run a longer race, or improve my test score? I'm just being realistic. I'm not pregnant right now, but maybe soon, and if so, I don't see me running a marathon.
My third PT goal was to pass the Army PT test (also known as the APFT). There are three categories for the test: push-ups (for 2 minutes), sit-ups (for 2 minutes) and a two mile run. For each event you earn a score based on how many you do or how fast you are. You must get at least 60 points in each event for a minimum of 180 points to pass. Your gender and your age influence your score; I, a 35 year old female, am not expected to do as many push-ups as my husband, a 38 year old male, who is not expected to do as many push-ups as a 30 year old male.
I needed to do 15 push-ups and 42 sit-ups to pass. My run time had to be faster than 21 minutes and 42 seconds. Back in June was the first time I tested myself, and I had the run time down, no problem. But I could only do 2 (yes, TWO) push-ups and 18 sit-ups. By September, I was up to 8 push-ups and 31 sit-ups.
By the way, sit-ups are really hard, especially if you've had 5 babies. I've done crunches over the years, but hadn't done full sit-ups since high school. When I first started working on this goal, I could not do a single one. Not a single one.
And push-ups? I have never been able to do those. My husband looks so beautiful doing them. Really. He can knock out the fifteen that I have to do without breaking a sweat. I think he does some ridiculous number like 60 when he takes the test. Sixty!
...
...
...
Sorry, I just got distracted there for a bit daydreaming about my husband's rippling muscles.
Anyway...oh, yes, my push-ups are not nearly as pretty, and if my husband were counting them, I probably would only have earned 3 or 4 (there are strict rules about what actually counts as a push-up), but I did manage to wobble through 15 of them to get the minimum 60 points. I also did 42 sit-ups - disappointing since I've done more, but I'll take the 60 points. And my run time was 18 minutes 48 seconds which earns the average score of 80 points for a grand total of 200. And so, I passed.
For this coming year, I think I'll stick with the same goals: 250 total miles; some race, perhaps a 10k instead of 10 miles; and passing the APFT - maybe with 15 good push-ups. This seems like a downgrade - after all, shouldn't I run more miles (currently, I've run 379 for the year), run a longer race, or improve my test score? I'm just being realistic. I'm not pregnant right now, but maybe soon, and if so, I don't see me running a marathon.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Carnival of Homeschooling - Anniversary Edition...
...is looking for submissions.
Fortunately, they'll take things that were written in the last few months. I had to go back a ways to the last time I blogged about homeschooling. We've been on a bit of a hiatus. I recently read an article about unschooling. In this past month, I can say that perhaps unschooling would work for my daughter, Katie. Katie nags me to death to give her work to do, to teach her to read, to give her projects. She can barely be convinced to take the weekends off. Yet, still, I say only perhaps unschooling might work for her. I'm sure that her love of learning a particular subject might wane should the work prove to be a bit tedious. And math, though I do really love math, is tedious.
Unlike Katie, my boys would be quite happy to ride bikes or scooters or skateboards or roller blades all morning long. In the afternoon, for a change of pace, they'll play football or baseball or basketball. If pressed to sit at the table, they may be inspired to draw pictures of Batman or pirates or the characters from Star Wars. It is possible that a die-hard unschooler may say that I need to encourage their creativity and point them to a career in comic-book illustration or animated movie production. Alas, the dialogue between characters would be unintelligible. I know. Bill and I have puzzled over some of the speech bubbles on their drawings. It's a bit mysterious, and that may make it interesting...or it just may make it completely worthless for entertainment.
Or they just may never learn biology at all. If they get to choose what to study, naturally, their interests may not direct them to certain subjects. And I don't think that's a good thing. I have a hard enough time trusting that the classical education approach is enough. I believe it in my heart, but honestly derive much comfort from checking the blocks of education, from the memorization of facts and data, from the passing of tests and the writing of dissertations. Unschooling is not for everybody. It's definitely not for me, and I think it's probably not right for most.
Fortunately, they'll take things that were written in the last few months. I had to go back a ways to the last time I blogged about homeschooling. We've been on a bit of a hiatus. I recently read an article about unschooling. In this past month, I can say that perhaps unschooling would work for my daughter, Katie. Katie nags me to death to give her work to do, to teach her to read, to give her projects. She can barely be convinced to take the weekends off. Yet, still, I say only perhaps unschooling might work for her. I'm sure that her love of learning a particular subject might wane should the work prove to be a bit tedious. And math, though I do really love math, is tedious.
Unlike Katie, my boys would be quite happy to ride bikes or scooters or skateboards or roller blades all morning long. In the afternoon, for a change of pace, they'll play football or baseball or basketball. If pressed to sit at the table, they may be inspired to draw pictures of Batman or pirates or the characters from Star Wars. It is possible that a die-hard unschooler may say that I need to encourage their creativity and point them to a career in comic-book illustration or animated movie production. Alas, the dialogue between characters would be unintelligible. I know. Bill and I have puzzled over some of the speech bubbles on their drawings. It's a bit mysterious, and that may make it interesting...or it just may make it completely worthless for entertainment.
In their teenage years, said Grace Llewellyn, author of The Teenage Liberation Handbook, unschooling kids can study biology with a textbook, in a community college or with software. Or they can befriend a doctor and brainstorm on books to read or projects to do. Or they can volunteer to work in a veterinarian's office.
Or they just may never learn biology at all. If they get to choose what to study, naturally, their interests may not direct them to certain subjects. And I don't think that's a good thing. I have a hard enough time trusting that the classical education approach is enough. I believe it in my heart, but honestly derive much comfort from checking the blocks of education, from the memorization of facts and data, from the passing of tests and the writing of dissertations. Unschooling is not for everybody. It's definitely not for me, and I think it's probably not right for most.
Eat, drink and be merry (part 2)
It's that time of year when many people worry about those holiday pounds. Eggnog, fig pudding, sugar plums - all these indulgences threaten our waistlines and can make what should be a fun time of year rather torturous. It's tough going to a Christmas party and seeing a table laden with a large selection of delectable goodies and feel that you must refrain from having one of everything. Or maybe two of everything.
One pound is 3600 calories. In order to lose one pound in one week, you would have to eliminate 600 calories every day (with Sundays off for good behavior). A 3 oz portion of roast chicken breast is only 140 calories. You would need to not eat nearly 13 oz (more than 3/4 of a pound) of chicken every day for one week to lose that one pound. That's quite a bit.
Or perhaps you could exercise instead. A person who weighs 140 pounds burns 160 calories walking for 30 minutes. You would need to walk for nearly 2 hours every day for a week to lose one pound. Or you could run at a 6 mph pace and only have to exercise for 43 minutes every day to accomplish the same goal.
All the women's magazines right now are full of advice about avoiding all these extra calories. Drink lots of water before meals or before going to a party. Fill up on the raw veggies before facing the dessert table. Honestly, if you feel you have to do these tricks, it would be better if you just stayed home and locked the doors. Pull a Healthy Choice frozen dinner out of the freezer and go to town.
My best advice for avoiding weight gain this time of year: forget about it. Eat your heart out. Don't count any calories from December 24th through January 1st. You can go on a diet or start an exercise regime beginning January 2nd. For now hide the scale, wear clothes with some extra give in the waistband and enjoy yourself.
Not convinced? Still worried about how hard it is to lose a few pounds? Don't think you can manage an extra 2 hours of walking every day? Let's look at things the other way.
Suppose you are completely happy with your weight right now. Congratulations. You are in the minority! Let's pretend you are happy with your weight. You would need to add 600 calories to your daily diet to gain a pound this week. Eggnog is 190 calories for 1/2 cup. You would have to drink 3 servings every day - every day - to gain one pound. It'd be worth it, I tell you! Suppose you love Hershey Kisses. It takes 24 of them every day for a week to gain that pound. You could do it, but it's a lot of chocolate. Granted, it's not too tough to have one serving of eggnog and a few Christmas cookies every day. Add to that one or two Hershey Kisses every time you pass by the candy dish and there you are a pound or two heavier. But in the end, isn't that better than carrot sticks and water and trying to ignore those Russian tea cake cookies that are calling you by name?
Soon the cookies will be gone and the stores will even stop stocking eggnog. It wouldn't be a new year without a resolution to lose weight. And failing that, Lent isn't too far away.
One pound is 3600 calories. In order to lose one pound in one week, you would have to eliminate 600 calories every day (with Sundays off for good behavior). A 3 oz portion of roast chicken breast is only 140 calories. You would need to not eat nearly 13 oz (more than 3/4 of a pound) of chicken every day for one week to lose that one pound. That's quite a bit.
Or perhaps you could exercise instead. A person who weighs 140 pounds burns 160 calories walking for 30 minutes. You would need to walk for nearly 2 hours every day for a week to lose one pound. Or you could run at a 6 mph pace and only have to exercise for 43 minutes every day to accomplish the same goal.
All the women's magazines right now are full of advice about avoiding all these extra calories. Drink lots of water before meals or before going to a party. Fill up on the raw veggies before facing the dessert table. Honestly, if you feel you have to do these tricks, it would be better if you just stayed home and locked the doors. Pull a Healthy Choice frozen dinner out of the freezer and go to town.
My best advice for avoiding weight gain this time of year: forget about it. Eat your heart out. Don't count any calories from December 24th through January 1st. You can go on a diet or start an exercise regime beginning January 2nd. For now hide the scale, wear clothes with some extra give in the waistband and enjoy yourself.
Not convinced? Still worried about how hard it is to lose a few pounds? Don't think you can manage an extra 2 hours of walking every day? Let's look at things the other way.
Suppose you are completely happy with your weight right now. Congratulations. You are in the minority! Let's pretend you are happy with your weight. You would need to add 600 calories to your daily diet to gain a pound this week. Eggnog is 190 calories for 1/2 cup. You would have to drink 3 servings every day - every day - to gain one pound. It'd be worth it, I tell you! Suppose you love Hershey Kisses. It takes 24 of them every day for a week to gain that pound. You could do it, but it's a lot of chocolate. Granted, it's not too tough to have one serving of eggnog and a few Christmas cookies every day. Add to that one or two Hershey Kisses every time you pass by the candy dish and there you are a pound or two heavier. But in the end, isn't that better than carrot sticks and water and trying to ignore those Russian tea cake cookies that are calling you by name?
Soon the cookies will be gone and the stores will even stop stocking eggnog. It wouldn't be a new year without a resolution to lose weight. And failing that, Lent isn't too far away.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
On the second day of Christmas...
...we buried our noses in books.
Bill is reading two Christmas presents at once. He's flipping randomly between Hostage to the Devil: The Possession and Exorcism of Five Contemporary Americans and The Devil's Sandbox: With the 2nd Battalion, 162nd Infantry at War in Iraq. Occasionally, he will read an excerpt to me or tell me about a section he just finished. It gets pretty confusing if I'm not paying attention, and I find that I have to stop and think, "What devil are we talking about?"
Pretty scary stuff - both of them. Must be good reads, though, since he keeps hiding in the bathroom.
I'm just happy he's home. Today is his last day off, but it's only a three day work week followed by a three day weekend. It's the most wonderful time of the year!
Bill is reading two Christmas presents at once. He's flipping randomly between Hostage to the Devil: The Possession and Exorcism of Five Contemporary Americans and The Devil's Sandbox: With the 2nd Battalion, 162nd Infantry at War in Iraq. Occasionally, he will read an excerpt to me or tell me about a section he just finished. It gets pretty confusing if I'm not paying attention, and I find that I have to stop and think, "What devil are we talking about?"
Pretty scary stuff - both of them. Must be good reads, though, since he keeps hiding in the bathroom.
I'm just happy he's home. Today is his last day off, but it's only a three day work week followed by a three day weekend. It's the most wonderful time of the year!
Eat, drink and be merry...
...for tomorrow you may be stoned to death.
Happy Feast of St. Stephen. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole martyrdom thing. There are some days I totally get it. Bad days...ones where a Calgon bath won't take me where I want to go. Days where I'd just like to see a fiery chariot descend and whisk me off to a better place. But since I know I'm not good enough for that first-class ticket, I'd gladly accept martyrdom on one of those days.
Of course, like the quote on Amy Welborn's sidebar, "She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick," even on those bad days, I'd want martyrdom under the best of circumstances: after confession, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, a good rosary for a plenary indulgance. Perhaps just after the Hail, Holy Queen: Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ...BANG! Instantaneous death from a sniper I never knew was watching me. Is that too much to ask?
Most of the time, though, I recoil from the idea of martyrdom. Burning at the stake, drowning, having eyes plucked out...just not things I really want to embrace. It's a good thing we aren't all called for that level of sacrifice. It's also a good thing, though, that the Feast of St. Stephen is now, just as we are satiated with the love and warmth of this Christmas season. It is good to be merry, but ever in our minds must we remember that following this babe in the manger is a difficult path.
May the joy of the Savior's birth sustain us on the journey.
Happy Feast of St. Stephen. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole martyrdom thing. There are some days I totally get it. Bad days...ones where a Calgon bath won't take me where I want to go. Days where I'd just like to see a fiery chariot descend and whisk me off to a better place. But since I know I'm not good enough for that first-class ticket, I'd gladly accept martyrdom on one of those days.
Of course, like the quote on Amy Welborn's sidebar, "She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick," even on those bad days, I'd want martyrdom under the best of circumstances: after confession, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, a good rosary for a plenary indulgance. Perhaps just after the Hail, Holy Queen: Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ...BANG! Instantaneous death from a sniper I never knew was watching me. Is that too much to ask?
Most of the time, though, I recoil from the idea of martyrdom. Burning at the stake, drowning, having eyes plucked out...just not things I really want to embrace. It's a good thing we aren't all called for that level of sacrifice. It's also a good thing, though, that the Feast of St. Stephen is now, just as we are satiated with the love and warmth of this Christmas season. It is good to be merry, but ever in our minds must we remember that following this babe in the manger is a difficult path.
May the joy of the Savior's birth sustain us on the journey.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Christmas rehash
Heading up to PA to visit Bill's family for just the day. Kids will get loads of presents and sugar and thus begins the hyper, too-excited to eat, sleep or think coherently phase that marks a truly good holiday season. Say three Hail Marys for a safe and happy trip - we'll need it with I-95 traffic.
Since I don't plan to blog much over the next few days, here's something to chew on, should you happen to have some down time and are looking for something to read.
It's hard to believe that it's already been three years, but it has. Three years since the worst Christmas ever with Bill deployed to Kosovo and not due back for two more months. The day after, I wrote about what it was like and I like to dig it out every year to rehash the misery. It serves as a reminder of where I was, what I survived, and what other families are going through right now. If you're in the mood for something upbeat...this might not be the thing right now. Come back in a few days. In the meantime, say a prayer for the troops overseas and for their families. God is listening.
A Deployment Christmas
December 26, 2003
I know many people will ask me how my Christmas was, so I thought I’d write it down. I want to remember it too. I’m sure by the time Bill comes home in mid to late February, I will have forgotten already how hard it was.
With Bill away, I debated for a long time about how to spend the holidays from Thanksgiving through the New Year. For many years now, my family has gone to Ohio for the week of Thanksgiving to be with my parents. My dad and mom helped me continue that tradition by driving me to and from their house. It wasn’t too bad to be there without him, because I’ve been to Ohio with the kids and not him many times. And this year we went a little wild and had lasagna for “Turkey Day”, so it didn’t even feel like Thanksgiving.
But Christmas couldn’t be disguised as another ordinary day. I decided to tone things down a bit: no outside lights, minimal interior decorations, and only a fraction of the ornaments on the tree. I held out hope until the very end for some home-baked cookies, and finally settled on pre-made store-bought dough. And since I consider chocolate chip cookies “everyday” cookies, not “Christmas” cookies, this was a tough thing to accept. There are many days left in the Christmas season, so I still hope to get a batch or two of real cookies made up.
For the past few years, I have hosted a small Christmas Eve gathering: my husband and children and his parents and brother and sister. The day is spent in final preparation for the birth of Christ. At last, the ornaments can go on the tree and carols can be played. I run to the store for fresh ingredients and to get a green wreath for the front door. The guests arrive as the food is cooking. The kids watch the sky for the first star – a sign of the birth! At last, the Savior is here! We bless the Christmas tree – a blessing which recalls the fall of man and the need for a savior. The baby Jesus is found and paraded and placed in the stable with his mother and father. We sing “Away in a Manager” and “Silent Night”. We read the story of the birth of Christ from the Gospel of Luke. I commend my in-laws for going along with all this pageantry with such good-nature.
This year, with no husband and a nursing infant, I couldn’t face all the stress of hosting and a moment of sagacity made me realize that I would have lots of work to do after the kids went to bed that night. My sister-in-law came over early in the day so I could get to the store, and she held the baby as she slept so I could unearth my nativity set from the mound of clutter. She also baked my not-so-Christmasy cookies, which saved me that hassle.
In the afternoon, my husband and I had a “date” on the computer with our web cameras. I couldn’t believe how empty the computer center was for Christmas Eve. We spent about an hour together. The kids came and went throughout that time. At one point I was swarmed with all four kids who were hamming it up for dad. I heard a jingle and realized that Bill had sent me an instant message – one that made me blush. And then another jingle – he was laughing that he could see me blushing. I guess it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed much in the last ten months.
After our date, my sister-in-law was gone and I started dinner while the three older kids took a bath. I wanted a nice dinner for Christmas Eve. I knew I couldn’t have everything I usually make, but thought I could swing something decent. I was wrong. The baby just wanted to nurse and be held, so she spent quite a bit of time screaming as I did some basic things. In the midst of this chaos, three-fifths of the Cincotta family stopped by to sing me a Christmas carol. My kids got out of the tub, and I didn’t have a free hand to get them dressed and didn’t have the energy to hassle them. Eventually, Fritz got himself dressed, Billy put on some underwear, but Katie remained completely nude…and we sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree to listen to carols and eat our dinner. The baby would not let me put her down without her crying, so I either had to juggle her AND the food, or eat and listen to her cry.
After dinner, I called the children together to get the baby Jesus and take him to the nativity scene. In my mind I imagined angelic children singing “Silent Night” with their sweet voices as we presented the baby Jesus to his mother. I saw wide eyes glistening as I read from the Gospel of Luke, and heard innocent voices asking questions about the true meaning of Christmas. Instead my half-naked children were fighting over who got to carry the statue of Jesus, who got to lead the procession, and who stepped on whose foot first. When my 5 year old threw a temper tantrum because the 3 year old didn’t hand him the baby Jesus properly, I threw my own temper tantrum. I announced that Christmas was over and told them to get ready for bed. I put the baby in her pajamas and closed the door to the boys’ room so I didn’t have to hear them and sat on the couch and nursed the baby and cried. I cried because Bill was gone. I cried because my children weren’t interested in the story of Christmas. I cried because I had lost my temper.
I cried because I was crying.
As I emailed Bill earlier in the day, “I have everything I need/want...besides material possessions, I have a wonderful husband, (mostly) great kids, and most importantly, a loving God who is taking care of me. I have nothing to cry about.” I despise self-pity and self-induced misery. I hated that I felt lonely and sad.
After about a half hour in the bedroom, the kids got restless. I reminded Fritz that I was done for the day; the show was over. Worried, I suppose, that I might cancel all things Christmas (oh, like Santa and presents), he was interested in cooperating. I didn’t care. I was tired of trying to get the kids to conform to my mental images of a perfect Christmas Eve. I told him, “You don’t even know what Christmas is all about! I’m trying to teach you, and you don’t care!” He yelled back, “I DO know what Christmas is all about!” “What is Christmas all about?” I asked. “It’s the birth of Jesus,” he said. “But what does that mean?” I pressured him, still not willing to relent. He answered, “It means we can go to heaven.”
Wow. Did I teach him that?
Hark, now hear the angels sing,
a new king born today,
and man will live for evermore,
because of Christmas day.
Trumpets sound and angels sing,
listen to what they say,
that man will live for evermore,
because of Christmas Day.
So I relented. What else could I do? We blessed the Christmas tree. We sang “Silent Night” with my voice cracking from so much yelling. We read from the Gospel of Luke. There were no precocious questions, the kids couldn’t sit still, there were a few minor skirmishes, and Katie spent the whole time removing santa hat-fuls of ornaments from the tree and hiding them in another room.
Afterwards, the kids went off to bed. There was very little talk of Santa and presents. Billy said (for the millionth time in the last month) that he missed Daddy. I said I did too. He asked if I could catch daddy. I said I sure wish I could, and if I could I would give him lots of hugs and kisses and then I would grab Billy and Fritz and Katie and Jenny and we’d all give each other lots of kisses and hugs. He suggested I use a “cowboy rope”. I said, yes, a lasso. I’d lasso daddy and then tie us all up together and we’d never be apart ever again. The boys seemed to like that idea.
I tucked the kids in and sat on the couch to nurse the baby to sleep. It was quiet and peaceful. The phone rang. Bill had attended Midnight Mass and then went to his office and called me. We talked for quite a while. It was the first time in over six months that I was able to talk to him without also tending to our children. It was very pleasant. I didn’t want to get off the phone, but knew that he was sacrificing his sleep to talk with me. Of all the presents I got from him, this quiet conversation was the best. I didn’t even hear a single yawn the whole time.
After I said goodnight to him, I had a bit of work to do. I tackled the heap of dishes in the kitchen. I prepped breakfast for the next morning: a spinach and egg bake that I love but which I hadn’t had in months. I wrapped the last few presents, put everything under the tree, and filled the stockings. I hung the spider ornaments and hid the pickle. I ironed the kids’ clothes and had them all ready for church.
There were a few things which didn’t get done. I decided that none of the presents needed ribbons or bows. I decided that Jenny’s exersaucer did not need to be assembled that night. I decided that the box to the unassembled exersaucer did not need to be wrapped. In fact, I decided it didn’t even need a gift tag because it was very obvious to whom it belonged.
I munched on Santa’s cookies and grabbed a cup of eggnog. I planned to sit for a bit and look at the tree and listen to the cool Christmas CD my sister sent me, but as I walked into the living room, I heard the baby crying. It was just as well. As I headed up to bed with her, the clock said 11:45 pm. Best to go to sleep anyway.
The baby woke up again around 5 am to nurse. She was a bit restless and I couldn’t fall back asleep. I guess I was a bit excited and was eager to see if the kids would like their new things. Fritz woke up first around 5:40 am. We spent about an hour together before Katie got up. He was happy that Santa had come. He waited patiently for everyone else to awaken so he could get in the stockings, but couldn’t resist peeking and was thrilled to see Batman and Superman action figures popping up from his and Billy’s stockings. Billy finally woke up around 7 am. By then I had already started getting the girls dressed. Fritz got dressed quickly because he wanted to wear the new socks he found in his stocking. I brushed hair and tied neckties while the kids played with dinosaurs and ate chocolate. Katie found the magic markers in her stocking and quickly “dressed up” her white tights. At least she kept the marker away from her face (after church, she didn’t).
Somehow I managed to get everyone in the car and off to church in pretty good timing. We came in as Father Rich was intoning the generations from Abraham to Jesus which is before the processional hymn. We quickly found a seat. I allowed Katie to bring a few small stuffed animals and the boys to bring their Superman and Batman, although I told them I would take them away if they got too loud. They didn’t get too loud, but Katie did. She wanted their toys. They shared with her for a bit, but just at the consecration she asked for them again and was told no. Immediately she began a typical age 2 tantrum. Immediately I picked her up and hustled her (and Jenny) out of the room leaving my 5 year old and 3 year old alone! Great mom, huh? Fortunately, Katie was so very upset at being removed from church that she promised she would quiet down, and we were able to return after only a minute or two. As I got back to my row, I thanked the gentleman in the row behind me who had apparently been assuring Billy that his mother would return shortly.
The rest of the mass passed without much incident. The lady at the other end of my row helped me by putting the car seat up off the floor and taking Jenny. I let her keep the baby after communion too. Fritz asked why the lady was holding her. If I weren’t hushing him for talking during mass, I would have answered, “Because it is obvious to everyone nearby that I am in desperate need of help.”
And then I noticed Billy fussing with his tie. When I tied it before mass, I knew it would be a problem, but didn’t have time to fix it. The skinny part in the back was too short to fit through the tab on the back of the fat part in front. It took him an hour, but he finally noticed it and it really bothered him. He wanted me to fix it. I told him it would have to wait until we were home in just a few minutes. We stood for the final blessing, and he began a typical age 2 tantrum (except he’s nearly 4 now). As the choir began to sing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, I started handing out coats. Billy wanted nothing to do with his. Fritz got his coat on. I zipped up Katie and got the baby from that very nice lady who held her for so long (Thank you God for charitable people!). As I buckled the baby into her car seat, another gentleman tried to help Billy with his coat. This only made him scream louder. I tried to go down the row to get to the aisle, but Billy intentionally blocked my path. I had to half drag/half kick him out of my way. I wanted to stop by the manger scene to pick up a piece of straw for Bill, but the noise was so loud that I decided to skip that part. I scooped him under my arm and carried the car seat with my free hand. Calling to my other two children and dodging people who didn’t seem to notice the flailing legs of the screaming kid, I made my way to the door. Sister Alice, laughing, patted me on the back and wished me a merry Christmas.
The nightmare continued. I somehow made it outside without Billy assaulting anyone. Fritz took off for the car and ran into and through the parking lot. And then, like a game of Frogger, decided to run back to me, tag up and head back for the car again. I caught him as he began his second run to the car, unmindful of the elderly man trying to back up right in front of him. I tried to yell at him but was distracted by Billy who was now upset because he was cold (he wouldn’t put on that coat while inside the church). I got the coat on him, but he continued to scream – now about how he needed gloves (it wasn’t that cold). I began trying to usher all the kids through the parking lot, and, fortunately, another kind man offered to carry the baby.
And this is why I avoid public places with the kids.
The rest of the morning was uneventful. We went home. We all calmed down. We opened presents. We ate breakfast. We called a few people and wished them a merry Christmas.
Bill sent me an email saying merry Christmas and that he wished he could be home. “But alas I am away, standing sentinel over a troubled land that knows not the joys of Christ or the wonders of Christmas.” And because we are so very fortunate to have this knowledge, we can rejoice. Even in our sorrow and through the pain of our separation, we can rejoice, and we can pray for those who know not the comforts of Christ.
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Christ was born
In the afternoon we went to Bill’s parents’ house. The kids behaved well – no tantrums. They got more toys from Nana and Grandpa and Aunt Margaret than from Mom and Dad and Santa. Margaret got the boys these cool Batman and Superman belts that talk. They say things that Batman or Superman would say. One phrase for Superman is “Emergency! The Earth needs my help! Let’s go!” I guess he’s supposed to be talking to one of the Superfriends.
We headed home early enough that it wasn’t a mad rush to get them off to bed. The house was a wreck. I didn’t even bring in the bags from the grandparents until today when I’d had a chance to move the other new toys around. Today was spent playing with toys and cleaning. There is a lot of organizing left to do. Now the toys are getting smaller and pieces are getting scattered to the four corners of every room. Fritz needs to learn to be responsible for his toys, but he also has to have a place to put them!
As I head off to bed tonight, I can’t help but wonder what it was like in Heaven before Christ was born. Did he turn to the Holy Spirit and say, “Emergency! The Earth needs my help! Let’s go!”??
Since I don't plan to blog much over the next few days, here's something to chew on, should you happen to have some down time and are looking for something to read.
It's hard to believe that it's already been three years, but it has. Three years since the worst Christmas ever with Bill deployed to Kosovo and not due back for two more months. The day after, I wrote about what it was like and I like to dig it out every year to rehash the misery. It serves as a reminder of where I was, what I survived, and what other families are going through right now. If you're in the mood for something upbeat...this might not be the thing right now. Come back in a few days. In the meantime, say a prayer for the troops overseas and for their families. God is listening.
A Deployment Christmas
December 26, 2003
I know many people will ask me how my Christmas was, so I thought I’d write it down. I want to remember it too. I’m sure by the time Bill comes home in mid to late February, I will have forgotten already how hard it was.
With Bill away, I debated for a long time about how to spend the holidays from Thanksgiving through the New Year. For many years now, my family has gone to Ohio for the week of Thanksgiving to be with my parents. My dad and mom helped me continue that tradition by driving me to and from their house. It wasn’t too bad to be there without him, because I’ve been to Ohio with the kids and not him many times. And this year we went a little wild and had lasagna for “Turkey Day”, so it didn’t even feel like Thanksgiving.
But Christmas couldn’t be disguised as another ordinary day. I decided to tone things down a bit: no outside lights, minimal interior decorations, and only a fraction of the ornaments on the tree. I held out hope until the very end for some home-baked cookies, and finally settled on pre-made store-bought dough. And since I consider chocolate chip cookies “everyday” cookies, not “Christmas” cookies, this was a tough thing to accept. There are many days left in the Christmas season, so I still hope to get a batch or two of real cookies made up.
For the past few years, I have hosted a small Christmas Eve gathering: my husband and children and his parents and brother and sister. The day is spent in final preparation for the birth of Christ. At last, the ornaments can go on the tree and carols can be played. I run to the store for fresh ingredients and to get a green wreath for the front door. The guests arrive as the food is cooking. The kids watch the sky for the first star – a sign of the birth! At last, the Savior is here! We bless the Christmas tree – a blessing which recalls the fall of man and the need for a savior. The baby Jesus is found and paraded and placed in the stable with his mother and father. We sing “Away in a Manager” and “Silent Night”. We read the story of the birth of Christ from the Gospel of Luke. I commend my in-laws for going along with all this pageantry with such good-nature.
This year, with no husband and a nursing infant, I couldn’t face all the stress of hosting and a moment of sagacity made me realize that I would have lots of work to do after the kids went to bed that night. My sister-in-law came over early in the day so I could get to the store, and she held the baby as she slept so I could unearth my nativity set from the mound of clutter. She also baked my not-so-Christmasy cookies, which saved me that hassle.
In the afternoon, my husband and I had a “date” on the computer with our web cameras. I couldn’t believe how empty the computer center was for Christmas Eve. We spent about an hour together. The kids came and went throughout that time. At one point I was swarmed with all four kids who were hamming it up for dad. I heard a jingle and realized that Bill had sent me an instant message – one that made me blush. And then another jingle – he was laughing that he could see me blushing. I guess it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed much in the last ten months.
After our date, my sister-in-law was gone and I started dinner while the three older kids took a bath. I wanted a nice dinner for Christmas Eve. I knew I couldn’t have everything I usually make, but thought I could swing something decent. I was wrong. The baby just wanted to nurse and be held, so she spent quite a bit of time screaming as I did some basic things. In the midst of this chaos, three-fifths of the Cincotta family stopped by to sing me a Christmas carol. My kids got out of the tub, and I didn’t have a free hand to get them dressed and didn’t have the energy to hassle them. Eventually, Fritz got himself dressed, Billy put on some underwear, but Katie remained completely nude…and we sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree to listen to carols and eat our dinner. The baby would not let me put her down without her crying, so I either had to juggle her AND the food, or eat and listen to her cry.
After dinner, I called the children together to get the baby Jesus and take him to the nativity scene. In my mind I imagined angelic children singing “Silent Night” with their sweet voices as we presented the baby Jesus to his mother. I saw wide eyes glistening as I read from the Gospel of Luke, and heard innocent voices asking questions about the true meaning of Christmas. Instead my half-naked children were fighting over who got to carry the statue of Jesus, who got to lead the procession, and who stepped on whose foot first. When my 5 year old threw a temper tantrum because the 3 year old didn’t hand him the baby Jesus properly, I threw my own temper tantrum. I announced that Christmas was over and told them to get ready for bed. I put the baby in her pajamas and closed the door to the boys’ room so I didn’t have to hear them and sat on the couch and nursed the baby and cried. I cried because Bill was gone. I cried because my children weren’t interested in the story of Christmas. I cried because I had lost my temper.
I cried because I was crying.
As I emailed Bill earlier in the day, “I have everything I need/want...besides material possessions, I have a wonderful husband, (mostly) great kids, and most importantly, a loving God who is taking care of me. I have nothing to cry about.” I despise self-pity and self-induced misery. I hated that I felt lonely and sad.
After about a half hour in the bedroom, the kids got restless. I reminded Fritz that I was done for the day; the show was over. Worried, I suppose, that I might cancel all things Christmas (oh, like Santa and presents), he was interested in cooperating. I didn’t care. I was tired of trying to get the kids to conform to my mental images of a perfect Christmas Eve. I told him, “You don’t even know what Christmas is all about! I’m trying to teach you, and you don’t care!” He yelled back, “I DO know what Christmas is all about!” “What is Christmas all about?” I asked. “It’s the birth of Jesus,” he said. “But what does that mean?” I pressured him, still not willing to relent. He answered, “It means we can go to heaven.”
Wow. Did I teach him that?
Hark, now hear the angels sing,
a new king born today,
and man will live for evermore,
because of Christmas day.
Trumpets sound and angels sing,
listen to what they say,
that man will live for evermore,
because of Christmas Day.
So I relented. What else could I do? We blessed the Christmas tree. We sang “Silent Night” with my voice cracking from so much yelling. We read from the Gospel of Luke. There were no precocious questions, the kids couldn’t sit still, there were a few minor skirmishes, and Katie spent the whole time removing santa hat-fuls of ornaments from the tree and hiding them in another room.
Afterwards, the kids went off to bed. There was very little talk of Santa and presents. Billy said (for the millionth time in the last month) that he missed Daddy. I said I did too. He asked if I could catch daddy. I said I sure wish I could, and if I could I would give him lots of hugs and kisses and then I would grab Billy and Fritz and Katie and Jenny and we’d all give each other lots of kisses and hugs. He suggested I use a “cowboy rope”. I said, yes, a lasso. I’d lasso daddy and then tie us all up together and we’d never be apart ever again. The boys seemed to like that idea.
I tucked the kids in and sat on the couch to nurse the baby to sleep. It was quiet and peaceful. The phone rang. Bill had attended Midnight Mass and then went to his office and called me. We talked for quite a while. It was the first time in over six months that I was able to talk to him without also tending to our children. It was very pleasant. I didn’t want to get off the phone, but knew that he was sacrificing his sleep to talk with me. Of all the presents I got from him, this quiet conversation was the best. I didn’t even hear a single yawn the whole time.
After I said goodnight to him, I had a bit of work to do. I tackled the heap of dishes in the kitchen. I prepped breakfast for the next morning: a spinach and egg bake that I love but which I hadn’t had in months. I wrapped the last few presents, put everything under the tree, and filled the stockings. I hung the spider ornaments and hid the pickle. I ironed the kids’ clothes and had them all ready for church.
There were a few things which didn’t get done. I decided that none of the presents needed ribbons or bows. I decided that Jenny’s exersaucer did not need to be assembled that night. I decided that the box to the unassembled exersaucer did not need to be wrapped. In fact, I decided it didn’t even need a gift tag because it was very obvious to whom it belonged.
I munched on Santa’s cookies and grabbed a cup of eggnog. I planned to sit for a bit and look at the tree and listen to the cool Christmas CD my sister sent me, but as I walked into the living room, I heard the baby crying. It was just as well. As I headed up to bed with her, the clock said 11:45 pm. Best to go to sleep anyway.
The baby woke up again around 5 am to nurse. She was a bit restless and I couldn’t fall back asleep. I guess I was a bit excited and was eager to see if the kids would like their new things. Fritz woke up first around 5:40 am. We spent about an hour together before Katie got up. He was happy that Santa had come. He waited patiently for everyone else to awaken so he could get in the stockings, but couldn’t resist peeking and was thrilled to see Batman and Superman action figures popping up from his and Billy’s stockings. Billy finally woke up around 7 am. By then I had already started getting the girls dressed. Fritz got dressed quickly because he wanted to wear the new socks he found in his stocking. I brushed hair and tied neckties while the kids played with dinosaurs and ate chocolate. Katie found the magic markers in her stocking and quickly “dressed up” her white tights. At least she kept the marker away from her face (after church, she didn’t).
Somehow I managed to get everyone in the car and off to church in pretty good timing. We came in as Father Rich was intoning the generations from Abraham to Jesus which is before the processional hymn. We quickly found a seat. I allowed Katie to bring a few small stuffed animals and the boys to bring their Superman and Batman, although I told them I would take them away if they got too loud. They didn’t get too loud, but Katie did. She wanted their toys. They shared with her for a bit, but just at the consecration she asked for them again and was told no. Immediately she began a typical age 2 tantrum. Immediately I picked her up and hustled her (and Jenny) out of the room leaving my 5 year old and 3 year old alone! Great mom, huh? Fortunately, Katie was so very upset at being removed from church that she promised she would quiet down, and we were able to return after only a minute or two. As I got back to my row, I thanked the gentleman in the row behind me who had apparently been assuring Billy that his mother would return shortly.
The rest of the mass passed without much incident. The lady at the other end of my row helped me by putting the car seat up off the floor and taking Jenny. I let her keep the baby after communion too. Fritz asked why the lady was holding her. If I weren’t hushing him for talking during mass, I would have answered, “Because it is obvious to everyone nearby that I am in desperate need of help.”
And then I noticed Billy fussing with his tie. When I tied it before mass, I knew it would be a problem, but didn’t have time to fix it. The skinny part in the back was too short to fit through the tab on the back of the fat part in front. It took him an hour, but he finally noticed it and it really bothered him. He wanted me to fix it. I told him it would have to wait until we were home in just a few minutes. We stood for the final blessing, and he began a typical age 2 tantrum (except he’s nearly 4 now). As the choir began to sing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, I started handing out coats. Billy wanted nothing to do with his. Fritz got his coat on. I zipped up Katie and got the baby from that very nice lady who held her for so long (Thank you God for charitable people!). As I buckled the baby into her car seat, another gentleman tried to help Billy with his coat. This only made him scream louder. I tried to go down the row to get to the aisle, but Billy intentionally blocked my path. I had to half drag/half kick him out of my way. I wanted to stop by the manger scene to pick up a piece of straw for Bill, but the noise was so loud that I decided to skip that part. I scooped him under my arm and carried the car seat with my free hand. Calling to my other two children and dodging people who didn’t seem to notice the flailing legs of the screaming kid, I made my way to the door. Sister Alice, laughing, patted me on the back and wished me a merry Christmas.
The nightmare continued. I somehow made it outside without Billy assaulting anyone. Fritz took off for the car and ran into and through the parking lot. And then, like a game of Frogger, decided to run back to me, tag up and head back for the car again. I caught him as he began his second run to the car, unmindful of the elderly man trying to back up right in front of him. I tried to yell at him but was distracted by Billy who was now upset because he was cold (he wouldn’t put on that coat while inside the church). I got the coat on him, but he continued to scream – now about how he needed gloves (it wasn’t that cold). I began trying to usher all the kids through the parking lot, and, fortunately, another kind man offered to carry the baby.
And this is why I avoid public places with the kids.
The rest of the morning was uneventful. We went home. We all calmed down. We opened presents. We ate breakfast. We called a few people and wished them a merry Christmas.
Bill sent me an email saying merry Christmas and that he wished he could be home. “But alas I am away, standing sentinel over a troubled land that knows not the joys of Christ or the wonders of Christmas.” And because we are so very fortunate to have this knowledge, we can rejoice. Even in our sorrow and through the pain of our separation, we can rejoice, and we can pray for those who know not the comforts of Christ.
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Christ was born
In the afternoon we went to Bill’s parents’ house. The kids behaved well – no tantrums. They got more toys from Nana and Grandpa and Aunt Margaret than from Mom and Dad and Santa. Margaret got the boys these cool Batman and Superman belts that talk. They say things that Batman or Superman would say. One phrase for Superman is “Emergency! The Earth needs my help! Let’s go!” I guess he’s supposed to be talking to one of the Superfriends.
We headed home early enough that it wasn’t a mad rush to get them off to bed. The house was a wreck. I didn’t even bring in the bags from the grandparents until today when I’d had a chance to move the other new toys around. Today was spent playing with toys and cleaning. There is a lot of organizing left to do. Now the toys are getting smaller and pieces are getting scattered to the four corners of every room. Fritz needs to learn to be responsible for his toys, but he also has to have a place to put them!
As I head off to bed tonight, I can’t help but wonder what it was like in Heaven before Christ was born. Did he turn to the Holy Spirit and say, “Emergency! The Earth needs my help! Let’s go!”??
Friday, December 22, 2006
It's the most busiest time of the year...
Outdoor decorations - as good as they're gonna get
Christmas Tree - assembled and lit, will be decorated on Sunday (our tradition)
The Halls - not yet decked, today's project
Kid's Bedrooms - 2 out of 3 decluttered, will I do the other one today?
Homemade chocolate candies - maybe tonight?
Gingerbread house - baked and ready for assembly...oh, except I only did one cutout of the side (need 2) and took all the extra dough and made cookies. So I guess one side will be cardboard. Bill is very disappointed in me.
Eggnog - we have a good supply of store-bought, but Bill wants to whip up some homemade grog today or Sunday. Need more bourbon.
Shopping - I thought I was done, but I need white candles for the Advent wreath and a gift for a baby shower to take to my MIL tomorrow who will deliver it next week. And need to get some bourbon.
Wrapping - half done.
Kids' projects - everyone is done except for Fritz. Another project for today. Have I used up all the hours yet?
Menu planning - done, and shopping for that done at least. I'd say that I'd make my onion soup today ahead of time...but, I'm looking at my to-do list above and don't think it's gonna happen.
Pumpkin bread - baked.
Cookies - baked and all decorated, thanks to the kids. Boy, do they look yummy. Some have so many chocolate chips and mint candies on them, you can hardly tell they are sugar cookies.
Christmas cards - the last set went in the mail yesterday.
Guess it's time to get moving!
Christmas Tree - assembled and lit, will be decorated on Sunday (our tradition)
The Halls - not yet decked, today's project
Kid's Bedrooms - 2 out of 3 decluttered, will I do the other one today?
Homemade chocolate candies - maybe tonight?
Gingerbread house - baked and ready for assembly...oh, except I only did one cutout of the side (need 2) and took all the extra dough and made cookies. So I guess one side will be cardboard. Bill is very disappointed in me.
Eggnog - we have a good supply of store-bought, but Bill wants to whip up some homemade grog today or Sunday. Need more bourbon.
Shopping - I thought I was done, but I need white candles for the Advent wreath and a gift for a baby shower to take to my MIL tomorrow who will deliver it next week. And need to get some bourbon.
Wrapping - half done.
Kids' projects - everyone is done except for Fritz. Another project for today. Have I used up all the hours yet?
Menu planning - done, and shopping for that done at least. I'd say that I'd make my onion soup today ahead of time...but, I'm looking at my to-do list above and don't think it's gonna happen.
Pumpkin bread - baked.
Cookies - baked and all decorated, thanks to the kids. Boy, do they look yummy. Some have so many chocolate chips and mint candies on them, you can hardly tell they are sugar cookies.
Christmas cards - the last set went in the mail yesterday.
Guess it's time to get moving!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Only 4 more days...
Nothing much going on here: just baking, cleaning, decorating, shopping, wrapping...the usual Christmas prep.
Amy Welborn linked to an artcle she wrote last year which I thought was quite good:
The Vatican lit the Christmas tree in St. Peter's Square yesterday. Bill will finish assembling ours this morning. He adds the lights as he puts the faux fir together. New this year are chili pepper lights. One day, I think the specialty lights will take over the whole thing: we already have bubble light angels, bubble light snowmen, M&M guys, cars, holly & ivy, lanterns, others. All told, he'll put over 2000 lights on the 7 foot tree. To say it's bright is an understatement.
And another interesting read, this one from CNA: World still seeks true Savior, must avoid false prophets and shortcuts, Pope says.
Amy Welborn linked to an artcle she wrote last year which I thought was quite good:
The really traditional Christian remembrance of the Nativity is not about sweetness. It is about awe, fear, and trembling, and it is shot through with hints of suffering to come.
The Vatican lit the Christmas tree in St. Peter's Square yesterday. Bill will finish assembling ours this morning. He adds the lights as he puts the faux fir together. New this year are chili pepper lights. One day, I think the specialty lights will take over the whole thing: we already have bubble light angels, bubble light snowmen, M&M guys, cars, holly & ivy, lanterns, others. All told, he'll put over 2000 lights on the 7 foot tree. To say it's bright is an understatement.
And another interesting read, this one from CNA: World still seeks true Savior, must avoid false prophets and shortcuts, Pope says.
"Does mankind in our own time still await the Savior?" the Pope asked. "It appears that many people consider God as foreign to their interests. They have no apparent need of Him, and live as if He did not exist or, worse still, as if He were an 'obstacle' to be removed in order to achieve self-fulfillment. Even among believers ... are those who let themselves be attracted by alluring mirages and distracted by misleading doctrines that propose illusory shortcuts to happiness.”
"And yet," he added, "with all their contradictions, their anguish and their dramas - or perhaps precisely because of them - men and women today seek a road of renewal, of salvation, they seek a Savior and await, sometimes without knowing it, the coming of Christ, man's only true Redeemer."
“Of course, false prophets continue to propose 'low cost' salvation, which always ends up delivering resounding disillusionment. Indeed, the history of the last 50 years provides an example of this search for a 'low cost' Savior and highlights all the consequent disillusionment."
For this reason, the Pope concluded, Christians must, "with the testimony of their lives, propagate the truth of Christmas, which Christ brings to all men and women of good will. Born into poverty in the manger, Jesus came to offer everyone the joy and peace which alone can satisfy the needs of the human soul."
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The Gift of the Magi
Last night I read The Gift of the Magi to the kids. I hadn't read it since high school, and found it just as charming and sweet as I did then. Acts of love that are utterly, marvelously, hopelessly foolish delight me.
I think, though, that I understand why some English teachers in high schools and colleges are dumbing down their curriculum and studying only recent "literature" (in quotes because I am dubious that today's fiction will stand the test of time). I don't think there are many romantics in the under 40 crowd nowadays, and it really takes a romantic to understand this story.
In the story, Jim and Della are young - Jim is but 22. I think the average age of men getting married now is about 27 or 28. Today's young adult might wonder why they were so silly as to marry so young. They have a cheap apartment they can barely afford - why not move in with parents or rent part of a decent house shared by various people with tenuous realtionships? And the best Della can do to help with household finances is to deal parsimoniously with the butcher? Get a job, lady!
Add to this modern practicality the reality of credit cards making scrimping for months to buy one special gift an obsolete concept. And with our "disposable" lifestyle of no-fault divorce, I wonder if the majority of young adults today have any experience with the tender love that seeks to please another no matter the sacrifice.
I think, though, that I understand why some English teachers in high schools and colleges are dumbing down their curriculum and studying only recent "literature" (in quotes because I am dubious that today's fiction will stand the test of time). I don't think there are many romantics in the under 40 crowd nowadays, and it really takes a romantic to understand this story.
In the story, Jim and Della are young - Jim is but 22. I think the average age of men getting married now is about 27 or 28. Today's young adult might wonder why they were so silly as to marry so young. They have a cheap apartment they can barely afford - why not move in with parents or rent part of a decent house shared by various people with tenuous realtionships? And the best Della can do to help with household finances is to deal parsimoniously with the butcher? Get a job, lady!
Add to this modern practicality the reality of credit cards making scrimping for months to buy one special gift an obsolete concept. And with our "disposable" lifestyle of no-fault divorce, I wonder if the majority of young adults today have any experience with the tender love that seeks to please another no matter the sacrifice.
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Dear Santa
The last time I posted on my blog about something that I wanted, I got it. I was tickled pink that my friend Rachel bought me that Springerle mold. I also liked how that whole, "Ask, and you shall receive" thing worked. So, I figure, what the hay, I'll try it again:
Buh-bum.. buh-bum...
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me
Been an awful good girl
Santa baby so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue,
I'll wait up for you, dear
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Think of all the fun I've missed,
Think of all the fellows that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be just as good
If you check off my christmas list
Santa baby, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot
Been an angel all year
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa honey, one little thing I really need, the deed
To a platinum mine,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex and cheques,
Sign your x on the line
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Come and trim my chirstmas tree,
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you,
Let's see if you believe in me
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring,
I don't mean on the phone,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry, tonight.
Buh-bum.. buh-bum...
Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree, for me
Been an awful good girl
Santa baby so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue,
I'll wait up for you, dear
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Think of all the fun I've missed,
Think of all the fellows that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be just as good
If you check off my christmas list
Santa baby, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot
Been an angel all year
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa honey, one little thing I really need, the deed
To a platinum mine,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex and cheques,
Sign your x on the line
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Come and trim my chirstmas tree,
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's
I really do believe in you,
Let's see if you believe in me
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring,
I don't mean on the phone,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry, tonight.
Monday, December 18, 2006
I'm dreaming of a cold Christmas...
It's 75 degrees today.
Eggnog, hot chocolate....how about lemonade? Sheesh.
I don't expect a white Christmas, but a nip in the air sure would seem a bit more festive.
Eggnog, hot chocolate....how about lemonade? Sheesh.
I don't expect a white Christmas, but a nip in the air sure would seem a bit more festive.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
The Daily Eudemon
I haven't mentioned it in a while: I enjoy Eric Scheske's website. My husband only reads two blogs: mine and his. If he's busy, he'll skip mine.
This guy has the best daily post on the Internet, plus an assortment of other stuff that confirms his status as a most-righteous dude. If you’re not reading him, you’re a moron.
{Listen, everybody. I don't normally call people morons. OK, I might, but only in my head and then I go to confession. I definitely do not call people "most-righteous dudes." Please read Saturday's Daily Eudemon post to understand those sentences.}
This guy has the best daily post on the Internet, plus an assortment of other stuff that confirms his status as a most-righteous dude. If you’re not reading him, you’re a moron.
{Listen, everybody. I don't normally call people morons. OK, I might, but only in my head and then I go to confession. I definitely do not call people "most-righteous dudes." Please read Saturday's Daily Eudemon post to understand those sentences.}
Poster Child
I really thought Jenny would enjoy going to CCD like her big sister and brothers. So, I signed her up for the 3 year old program.
Today in CCD, they made these Christmas decorations. The photo was taken last week, since this isn't the dress she wore today.
Side note on the dress: check it out. The latest in 1970s fashion!! My younger sister, Beth, and I had matching ones - this one was worn by first Beth and then by our younger sister, Barb. The one I wore was lost. I loved these dresses.
Her face tells the true story of CCD - just how much she enjoys going. I really wish she would stay home and watch hunting shows with Dad. Isn't she pathetic? She looks like a poster child for deprived children in some poor country.
Dear Compassionate Friend,
In the last few months, I have really tried to convince Jenny that she does NOT want to go to CCD, but she absolutely insists she must go. No, she does NOT want to stay home with Daddy and Petey and watch some hunting show with some female hostess - Dad's bonding time with his third son. No, she really wants to go to CCD.
But she doesn't want to go to her classroom. She wants to go with me. I'm the assistant in Billy's 1st grade classroom which is right next to her classroom in what is fortunately an open layout. So, she begins the session in her area where they have the children coloring a picture, and when she's done with that, she comes over and hangs out in our area. No, she doesn't want to go listen to the stories in her area. No, she doesn't want to go see what her friend Molly is doing in her area. She wants to stay with me.
She will go back for snack, though. Priorities: coloring and snack.
Today in CCD, they made these Christmas decorations. The photo was taken last week, since this isn't the dress she wore today. Side note on the dress: check it out. The latest in 1970s fashion!! My younger sister, Beth, and I had matching ones - this one was worn by first Beth and then by our younger sister, Barb. The one I wore was lost. I loved these dresses.
But it is a 1970s fashion. I am not making her wear this dress. I hung it in her closet and she chose to wear it. Honest.
Her face tells the true story of CCD - just how much she enjoys going. I really wish she would stay home and watch hunting shows with Dad. Isn't she pathetic? She looks like a poster child for deprived children in some poor country.Dear Compassionate Friend,
Just 30 cents a day - less than a cup of coffee - and this child could be fed, educated and given modern clothing to wear. Please consider a donation.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Yikes!
Is it already December 16th? I don't even know where my to-do list is...let alone how much is actually done!
I'm off to go run in circles screaming...
I'm off to go run in circles screaming...
Friday, December 15, 2006
Teething toddler
Little Petey has been in a foul mood fairly often in recent days. He's 17 months old, and that is reason enough. But then he's fighting a cold and to make things worse, he is cutting four molars at once.
Usually if I don't manage to get a shower before he awakes, I can take him into my room and let him play. I don't know what he does, because when I emerge ten minutes later I don't see my personal items strewn about the room, but he manages to keep himself happy in that time. This is truly a blessing and quite unlike any of my other children who would spend most of the time while I was in the shower either scolding me or making a huge mess or both.
Yesterday, though, Pete had no desire to play happily while I took a shower. I even got down the hot rollers, something he rarely sees, but this "new toy" only made him mad. "How dare you try to distract me?" seemed to be his point. So instead of showering, we went downstairs and hung out until he was in a better mood.
I tried again. I intentionally ignored the hot rollers which were still on the floor from my previous attempt and showed him a hand-held mirror (often very popular with the kids). Nope. He tried to throw it and expressed to me by his writhing body that he was not interested in permitting me to take a shower. I put on my most stubborn expression and said quite firmly that at the very least I had to go to the bathroom. I placed him gently on the floor (not an easy thing to do with a toddler having a tantrum) and sat myself down. He marched over with an angry face, said "NO!", and put his chubby hand over the toilet paper. "I'll show you, Mom. I'll make you drip dry! HA!" I couldn't help but laugh.
Fortunately, his mood softened after a minute of us glaring at each other, alternating with me telling him he was being silly. He relinquinshed the toilet paper and went over to the hot rollers. And he amused himself for a nice long time.
Molars take a long time to come in. The top ones have been at it for several weeks now and still are only about half out. The bottom ones have only just popped a tiny corner out. So, perhaps by February he'll be in a better mood!
Usually if I don't manage to get a shower before he awakes, I can take him into my room and let him play. I don't know what he does, because when I emerge ten minutes later I don't see my personal items strewn about the room, but he manages to keep himself happy in that time. This is truly a blessing and quite unlike any of my other children who would spend most of the time while I was in the shower either scolding me or making a huge mess or both.
Yesterday, though, Pete had no desire to play happily while I took a shower. I even got down the hot rollers, something he rarely sees, but this "new toy" only made him mad. "How dare you try to distract me?" seemed to be his point. So instead of showering, we went downstairs and hung out until he was in a better mood.
I tried again. I intentionally ignored the hot rollers which were still on the floor from my previous attempt and showed him a hand-held mirror (often very popular with the kids). Nope. He tried to throw it and expressed to me by his writhing body that he was not interested in permitting me to take a shower. I put on my most stubborn expression and said quite firmly that at the very least I had to go to the bathroom. I placed him gently on the floor (not an easy thing to do with a toddler having a tantrum) and sat myself down. He marched over with an angry face, said "NO!", and put his chubby hand over the toilet paper. "I'll show you, Mom. I'll make you drip dry! HA!" I couldn't help but laugh.
Fortunately, his mood softened after a minute of us glaring at each other, alternating with me telling him he was being silly. He relinquinshed the toilet paper and went over to the hot rollers. And he amused himself for a nice long time.
Molars take a long time to come in. The top ones have been at it for several weeks now and still are only about half out. The bottom ones have only just popped a tiny corner out. So, perhaps by February he'll be in a better mood!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Decluttering for the holidays
Among my Advent tasks is a scaled down version of my spring cleaning. I'm not so worried about having yeast in my pantry as I am focused on the clutter in the closets. I am a very orderly and organized person (the mess on my desk notwithstanding). But I live in a home with five little people who have no understanding of just how bothersome it is (to me) to have My Little Pony accessories mixed in with the tea set.
And I can handle My Little Pony. But where I fail entirely is in the Lego and Playmobile arena. I dumped the Lego container yesterday afternoon and told the boys that only Legos were to go back inside it. And we began. Of course, the boys then proceeded to say things like, "Billy, look! You were looking for this piece!" And their sorting and cleaning was distracted by their search for other similar "jewels" for Billy's "invention." It was a team effort, but they were playing a different game than I.
A fly on the wall would have heard ten minutes of:
"Is this a Lego?" Affirmative grunt.
"How about this one?" Affirmative grunt.
"Legos?" Affirmative grunt.
"These?" "Oh, that's Playmobile."
"How about these?" "Legos." "Really?" "Yes, Mom, they go to the Millenium Falcon."
I am way out of my league here. I even contemplated for a few minutes that the entire endeavor to put pieces in the proper containers was really just over-the-top in organization. But then I recovered my senses and finished the job.
After an hour of cleaning the bedrooms, I released the kids to watch some TV. This gave me a chance to stealthily remove from their room all the things that I've decided they no longer get to keep. Some of the items were toys they rarely play with and will find a new home with another family via the post thrift store. Other things were broken toys that the kids insist are repairable by Magic Dad with the Gorilla Glue or were accessories to toys long gone.
When the kids came up a bit later, Billy remarked that he could see his dresser. Yes, it's amazing how one can see the furniture when one puts toys, clothes, books and art projects where they belong. There are still two containers left - a bin of Army guys and a bin of cars. I need to make sure that GI Joe isn't hanging out at the motor pool, and then the boys' room is done. In the girls' room, we need to re-build the Playmobile Palace destroyed by the huns, and then I have some sorting to do in Pete's closet.
My inner soul will be at clutter-free peace for a week or so. Then comes the onslaught of New Stuff. At least there is room in the closet.
And I can handle My Little Pony. But where I fail entirely is in the Lego and Playmobile arena. I dumped the Lego container yesterday afternoon and told the boys that only Legos were to go back inside it. And we began. Of course, the boys then proceeded to say things like, "Billy, look! You were looking for this piece!" And their sorting and cleaning was distracted by their search for other similar "jewels" for Billy's "invention." It was a team effort, but they were playing a different game than I.
A fly on the wall would have heard ten minutes of:
"Is this a Lego?" Affirmative grunt.
"How about this one?" Affirmative grunt.
"Legos?" Affirmative grunt.
"These?" "Oh, that's Playmobile."
"How about these?" "Legos." "Really?" "Yes, Mom, they go to the Millenium Falcon."
I am way out of my league here. I even contemplated for a few minutes that the entire endeavor to put pieces in the proper containers was really just over-the-top in organization. But then I recovered my senses and finished the job.
After an hour of cleaning the bedrooms, I released the kids to watch some TV. This gave me a chance to stealthily remove from their room all the things that I've decided they no longer get to keep. Some of the items were toys they rarely play with and will find a new home with another family via the post thrift store. Other things were broken toys that the kids insist are repairable by Magic Dad with the Gorilla Glue or were accessories to toys long gone.
When the kids came up a bit later, Billy remarked that he could see his dresser. Yes, it's amazing how one can see the furniture when one puts toys, clothes, books and art projects where they belong. There are still two containers left - a bin of Army guys and a bin of cars. I need to make sure that GI Joe isn't hanging out at the motor pool, and then the boys' room is done. In the girls' room, we need to re-build the Playmobile Palace destroyed by the huns, and then I have some sorting to do in Pete's closet.
My inner soul will be at clutter-free peace for a week or so. Then comes the onslaught of New Stuff. At least there is room in the closet.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The Feast of St. Lucy
This morning I asked Bill why our daughters hadn't delivered us some sweet bread in bed. Apparently, one needs to teach their daughters this behavior. Go figure.I checked my copy of this book, but both recipes for St. Lucy's sweet bread use saffron, which I don't happen to stock. Maybe I'll scour the internet and come up with something to make for dessert tonight or for a mid-morning snack.
Yesterday I made 20 dozen Crinkled Molasses Cookies. On Friday I'm going to a cookie exchange, and half that amount will be given away. Everyone was permitted ONE single lonely cookie. I was most unpopular, and at least one person managed to sneak one when I wasn't looking.
At some point today, I'll have to gather the children and bless their eyesight:
Relying upon thy goodness, O God, we humbly ask Thee, by the
intercession of Thy servant, St. Lucy, that Thou wouldst give perfect vision to our eyes, that they may serve for Thy greater glory, and for the salvation of our souls in this world, that we may come to the enjoyment of the unfailing light of the Lamb of God in paradise. St. Lucy, virgin and martyr, pray for us.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Season's Greetings
It's that time of year again. You know, the time of year when everybody feels that they have a right to tell everybody else how to celebrate the "holiday season."
American Catholics are bad enough with discussions flying about Santa, St. Nicholas, Kris Kringle, Krist Kindle, Three Kings or Generous Parental Units as the bearers of gifts. I wonder if Catholics in a more homogeneous culture have the same angst about how to celebrate Christmas. Are Filipino Catholics belligerantly petty about when to put up decorations and how many presents a child should receive, or is this inane behavior exclusive to places like the United States with its mish-mash of diverse backgrounds?
Then we have Christians in general who whine about stores that don't wish their patrons a Merry Christmas. I wrote about this last year. Patriotic Americans don't get uppity if the grocery store clerk doesn't wish them a Happy Flag Day on June 14th. I don't hear Jews lobbying for merchants to conclude transactions with "Have a good Yom Kippur - hope your atoning goes well!" Perhaps in much of America there are places where most people are celebrating Christmas, and it seems natural to offer that standard greeting. But for the last decade I've lived on the East Coast, and it really isn't clear who is celebrating what. Although I would never be offended if someone wished me a Joyous Ramadan (I would laugh!), I would also never consciously wish a Muslim a Merry Christmas. And since we Christians are constantly lamenting the over-commercialization of Christmas, it seems rather hypocritical to then demand that the retail world wish you a merry time celebrating that Holy Day for which you don't want them marketing their products!
But mostly, it's that time of year when everybody wants to get in on the holiday excitement. Christians whimper about how everybody should behave during the month of December, but their complaints are drowned out by the non-Christians with their list of demands.
A Rabbi in the state of Washington got upset about "Christmas" trees being on display at the airport, and he threatened legal action if the airport did not also display a menorah. You know, in July in the forest, these trees are usually called fir trees. Nobody is offended by their existance. But bring them indoors during the winter months and suddenly they become "Christmas" trees. There is nothing exclusively Christian about evergreen trees. Yes, there is symbolism in the perpetual greenery representing eternity and fidelity. But these symbols are completely lost on people from parts of the world where the fir tree doesn't grow. Bringing them indoors during the winter months and decorating them has pagan origins and was adopted by Christians - primarily in Germany. The Portuguese should be offended that their cultural traditions aren't being recognized.
The airport got ticked off at this game of chicken and refused to play: they removed all the decorations, saying they "didn't have time to play cultural anthropologists." The Rabbi "was appalled by the decision. 'Everyone should have their spirit of the holiday. For many people the trees are the spirit of the holidays, and adding a menorah adds light to the season.'" So, it's ok to celebrate Christmas, as long as we do it his way.
According to the Rabbi's lawyer, "There is a concern here that the Jewish community will be portrayed as the Grinch."
Um, yeah.
But it's ok. There's quite a bit of that going around.
American Catholics are bad enough with discussions flying about Santa, St. Nicholas, Kris Kringle, Krist Kindle, Three Kings or Generous Parental Units as the bearers of gifts. I wonder if Catholics in a more homogeneous culture have the same angst about how to celebrate Christmas. Are Filipino Catholics belligerantly petty about when to put up decorations and how many presents a child should receive, or is this inane behavior exclusive to places like the United States with its mish-mash of diverse backgrounds?
Then we have Christians in general who whine about stores that don't wish their patrons a Merry Christmas. I wrote about this last year. Patriotic Americans don't get uppity if the grocery store clerk doesn't wish them a Happy Flag Day on June 14th. I don't hear Jews lobbying for merchants to conclude transactions with "Have a good Yom Kippur - hope your atoning goes well!" Perhaps in much of America there are places where most people are celebrating Christmas, and it seems natural to offer that standard greeting. But for the last decade I've lived on the East Coast, and it really isn't clear who is celebrating what. Although I would never be offended if someone wished me a Joyous Ramadan (I would laugh!), I would also never consciously wish a Muslim a Merry Christmas. And since we Christians are constantly lamenting the over-commercialization of Christmas, it seems rather hypocritical to then demand that the retail world wish you a merry time celebrating that Holy Day for which you don't want them marketing their products!
But mostly, it's that time of year when everybody wants to get in on the holiday excitement. Christians whimper about how everybody should behave during the month of December, but their complaints are drowned out by the non-Christians with their list of demands.
A Rabbi in the state of Washington got upset about "Christmas" trees being on display at the airport, and he threatened legal action if the airport did not also display a menorah. You know, in July in the forest, these trees are usually called fir trees. Nobody is offended by their existance. But bring them indoors during the winter months and suddenly they become "Christmas" trees. There is nothing exclusively Christian about evergreen trees. Yes, there is symbolism in the perpetual greenery representing eternity and fidelity. But these symbols are completely lost on people from parts of the world where the fir tree doesn't grow. Bringing them indoors during the winter months and decorating them has pagan origins and was adopted by Christians - primarily in Germany. The Portuguese should be offended that their cultural traditions aren't being recognized.
The airport got ticked off at this game of chicken and refused to play: they removed all the decorations, saying they "didn't have time to play cultural anthropologists." The Rabbi "was appalled by the decision. 'Everyone should have their spirit of the holiday. For many people the trees are the spirit of the holidays, and adding a menorah adds light to the season.'" So, it's ok to celebrate Christmas, as long as we do it his way.
According to the Rabbi's lawyer, "There is a concern here that the Jewish community will be portrayed as the Grinch."
Um, yeah.
But it's ok. There's quite a bit of that going around.
Monday, December 11, 2006
A good weekend
All in all, the weekend was great.
The kids behaved as usual at Mass on Friday, but my chipper attitude got me through it. I was a little upset when Katie face-planted in the parking lot while running to the van to go home. She put a huge hole in brand-new tights. These happen to be really expensive tights that I sprung for because they claim to be durable enough to hand down to younger siblings. They are not asphalt-proof.
{sigh}
At the two parties, the children were charming. Even Petey permitted some strangers to hold him for brief periods.
Not so amusing, though, is the talk I hear of my husband remaining in this job for the next 18 months. My steel-blue eyes were glinting at him like daggers in a streetlight, and he, not having heard what I heard, began voicelessly protesting his innocence to whatever crime he was accused. Later, he insisted that he was really going off to school this coming summer, really. Even later, he admitted that his future was really out of his hands, really.
argh.
Yesterday at Mass, Jenny made it until the homily before asking to go to the bathroom. I took Pete with me. The bathroom is right next to the nursery, so I went there and signed both of them up for the free babysitting hoping that Pete would be happy to stay if Jenny was with him. I went back to church and Father was still giving his homily. I don't know what I missed, but I got there just in time to hear him bring up a really sore topic: holding hands during the Our Father.
Our last parish only on rare occasions would request the parishoners to hold hands during this prayer, but, for the most part, our kids were wholly unfamiliar with this practice. When we moved here nearly two years ago, we realized that this was the expected behavior. Had it been just Bill and I, or if the kids had been older, we might have taken a stand against it. But I was afraid that the children would appear disrespectful of adults if they refused to hold hands, and there was no way we could have reasonably ensured that we, the parents, were always on the outer edges of our family group.
Father, who has been here for less than 6 months, very charitably explained that holding hands during the Our Father was improper. He also said he knew that he was going to be very unpopular for prohibiting it, but he was anyway. Bill and I could barely contain our glee.
I sent Father an email later on in the day thanking him for his actions. He had mentioned in his homily that even though people would be upset with the ban on holding hands, there were also people who were upset with holding hands to begin with. Fortunately, Bill and I are not the types to walk away from the Church because of the inappropriate actions of a priest or a congregation, but many do walk away. I spoke with a friend after CCD, and she confessed to being very sad. She had no idea that it was wrong, and there is some sense of betrayal for having been lead astray for 30 years. Even though the truth is hard to hear, praise God that my pastor is courageous enough to speak it!
Pete and Jenny did not do well in babysitting. When I retreived them 40 minutes later, Pete was crying and Jenny asked me with a teary face why I left them there. Yes, I'm a meany. I left them in a room filled with toys and books for less than an hour. I denied them a crowded pew with no toys, books with no pictures, and constant shushings from grownups.
{sigh}
I guess I shouldn't complain. It's nice to be loved.
The kids behaved as usual at Mass on Friday, but my chipper attitude got me through it. I was a little upset when Katie face-planted in the parking lot while running to the van to go home. She put a huge hole in brand-new tights. These happen to be really expensive tights that I sprung for because they claim to be durable enough to hand down to younger siblings. They are not asphalt-proof.
{sigh}
At the two parties, the children were charming. Even Petey permitted some strangers to hold him for brief periods.
Not so amusing, though, is the talk I hear of my husband remaining in this job for the next 18 months. My steel-blue eyes were glinting at him like daggers in a streetlight, and he, not having heard what I heard, began voicelessly protesting his innocence to whatever crime he was accused. Later, he insisted that he was really going off to school this coming summer, really. Even later, he admitted that his future was really out of his hands, really.
argh.
Yesterday at Mass, Jenny made it until the homily before asking to go to the bathroom. I took Pete with me. The bathroom is right next to the nursery, so I went there and signed both of them up for the free babysitting hoping that Pete would be happy to stay if Jenny was with him. I went back to church and Father was still giving his homily. I don't know what I missed, but I got there just in time to hear him bring up a really sore topic: holding hands during the Our Father.
Our last parish only on rare occasions would request the parishoners to hold hands during this prayer, but, for the most part, our kids were wholly unfamiliar with this practice. When we moved here nearly two years ago, we realized that this was the expected behavior. Had it been just Bill and I, or if the kids had been older, we might have taken a stand against it. But I was afraid that the children would appear disrespectful of adults if they refused to hold hands, and there was no way we could have reasonably ensured that we, the parents, were always on the outer edges of our family group.
Father, who has been here for less than 6 months, very charitably explained that holding hands during the Our Father was improper. He also said he knew that he was going to be very unpopular for prohibiting it, but he was anyway. Bill and I could barely contain our glee.
I sent Father an email later on in the day thanking him for his actions. He had mentioned in his homily that even though people would be upset with the ban on holding hands, there were also people who were upset with holding hands to begin with. Fortunately, Bill and I are not the types to walk away from the Church because of the inappropriate actions of a priest or a congregation, but many do walk away. I spoke with a friend after CCD, and she confessed to being very sad. She had no idea that it was wrong, and there is some sense of betrayal for having been lead astray for 30 years. Even though the truth is hard to hear, praise God that my pastor is courageous enough to speak it!
Pete and Jenny did not do well in babysitting. When I retreived them 40 minutes later, Pete was crying and Jenny asked me with a teary face why I left them there. Yes, I'm a meany. I left them in a room filled with toys and books for less than an hour. I denied them a crowded pew with no toys, books with no pictures, and constant shushings from grownups.
{sigh}
I guess I shouldn't complain. It's nice to be loved.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Christmas meme
Tagged by Catholic Mom. I feel so loved.
1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? Eggnog. My hips are proof. I'm not a big fan of bourbon, but Bill's goal is to get me to enjoy his homemade grog. Bill, when you read this, we're almost out of Maker's Mark - buy more.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Santa fills the stockings. Sometimes some of the contents are wrapped, but not usually. The presents under the tree are wrapped and are from mom and dad and grandparents and other relatives.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Colored, mostly.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? We did once. It's poisonous though - gotta watch with little ones.
5. When do you put your decorations up? It's a gradual process throughout Advent. Advent decorations are up, of course (Jesse Tree, wreath, calendars).
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? I just enjoy indulging in all the food that I limit throughout the normal year.
7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child: Waking up sometime in the wee hours of the morning and sneaking down to see if Santa had come. I would curl up in a chair and enjoy the lights and the beauty of the tree and the sense of awe and wonder and love. My sister, Barb, tells me she did the same thing, but I never saw anyone else. I did this until I was the one leaving the presents under the tree...and even now, I do it, but before I go to bed.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? My brother told me the "truth" when I was about 7 or 8.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Nope. Christmas Eve is all about the Nativity. We celebrate the incomparable gift of a Savior's birth.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? Lots of colored lights woven inside the tree. Hundreds of ornaments hidden inside and all around. Every Christmas morning, two silver spider ornaments appear, based on a German Christmas legend we read to the kids. And we hang a glass pickle and reward the pickle finder with a prize - usually a book or movie everyone can enjoy.
11. Snow? Love it or Dread it? Love it.
12. Can you ice skate? On my list of things to learn someday.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? I really like the St. Nicholas statue Bill gave me last year. But, hands down, the best gift I ever got was Christmas 1999 when Bill bought me The One Year Guide to the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Sounds boring, but it changed my life.
14. What's the most exciting thing about the Holidays for you? All the secretive preparations - wrapping presents, hiding boxes, evasive answers and whispering.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Cookies, especially Russian Tea Cakes and ones with molasses or ginger.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Having the kids look for the first star on Christmas Eve so we can begin our feast.
17. What tops your tree? An angel.
18. Which do you prefer - giving or receiving? Who would answer "receiving" to this question?
19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? All of them. Well, most of them.
20. Candy canes? Hung magically on the tree after the kids go to bed. I don't usually eat them myself.
Tag: Amy, Angoraknitter, and Nutmeg
1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? Eggnog. My hips are proof. I'm not a big fan of bourbon, but Bill's goal is to get me to enjoy his homemade grog. Bill, when you read this, we're almost out of Maker's Mark - buy more.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Santa fills the stockings. Sometimes some of the contents are wrapped, but not usually. The presents under the tree are wrapped and are from mom and dad and grandparents and other relatives.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Colored, mostly.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? We did once. It's poisonous though - gotta watch with little ones.
5. When do you put your decorations up? It's a gradual process throughout Advent. Advent decorations are up, of course (Jesse Tree, wreath, calendars).
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? I just enjoy indulging in all the food that I limit throughout the normal year.
7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child: Waking up sometime in the wee hours of the morning and sneaking down to see if Santa had come. I would curl up in a chair and enjoy the lights and the beauty of the tree and the sense of awe and wonder and love. My sister, Barb, tells me she did the same thing, but I never saw anyone else. I did this until I was the one leaving the presents under the tree...and even now, I do it, but before I go to bed.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? My brother told me the "truth" when I was about 7 or 8.
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Nope. Christmas Eve is all about the Nativity. We celebrate the incomparable gift of a Savior's birth.
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? Lots of colored lights woven inside the tree. Hundreds of ornaments hidden inside and all around. Every Christmas morning, two silver spider ornaments appear, based on a German Christmas legend we read to the kids. And we hang a glass pickle and reward the pickle finder with a prize - usually a book or movie everyone can enjoy.
11. Snow? Love it or Dread it? Love it.
12. Can you ice skate? On my list of things to learn someday.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? I really like the St. Nicholas statue Bill gave me last year. But, hands down, the best gift I ever got was Christmas 1999 when Bill bought me The One Year Guide to the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Sounds boring, but it changed my life.
14. What's the most exciting thing about the Holidays for you? All the secretive preparations - wrapping presents, hiding boxes, evasive answers and whispering.
15. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? Cookies, especially Russian Tea Cakes and ones with molasses or ginger.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Having the kids look for the first star on Christmas Eve so we can begin our feast.
17. What tops your tree? An angel.
18. Which do you prefer - giving or receiving? Who would answer "receiving" to this question?
19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? All of them. Well, most of them.
20. Candy canes? Hung magically on the tree after the kids go to bed. I don't usually eat them myself.
Tag: Amy, Angoraknitter, and Nutmeg
Friday, December 08, 2006
For the record...
...this morning, my soul doth soar.
I managed to get out of bed this morning with little resistance. I took Greta for a run. I sat down with my husband to do morning prayers and remembered it was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I love Marian feasts.
Despite the early hour, I would have sung this if I had known the tune. I'm sure I'll be humming Marian hymns all day long. I am so grateful that the Holy Spirit has filled me with joy today. The next 48 hours are rather daunting, and I'll need all the extra graces I can get. And so, I say for now, my soul doth soar. We'll see how I feel tonight after the kids go to bed!
What's on the agenda?
Daunting Activity #1: Mass with the kids
Today is a Holy Day of Obligation. No begging off because Bill isn't here to help. God is all the help I need, and I must trust Him to get through it. The last time I did this was very frustrating, but I'm sure it will be different this time. Sure. Perhaps what will be most different is Mom's attitude!
On a good note, I had one of those half-awake revelations the other day. The Mass here on post is at noon, which doesn't work for the baby who likes to take his nap at that time. I go to another church not too far away. I went there on November 1st, and I went there on August 15th - another Marian feast. On August 15th, they sang no Marian hymns. I was a bit...flabbergasted. Disappointed. Shocked. Sad. And really, really angry. As I was lying in bed, not motivated to get up, I remembered this incident and reminded myself to go to another church, one more likely to honor Our Mother through a few of the many beautiful hymns about her.
This is good, because beginning the day angry does not set a good tone for other activities scheduled like...
Daunting Activity #2: Christmas party at the boss' house
The boss is a three star general. The whole family is expected to attend. You military folks will know that this is not optional, and that my husband, for good or ill and as unfair as it may be, will be judged by how his family behaves (or doesn't).
For you civilians, this means probably very little. A three star is like the CEO of a very large corporation. And he's friends with all the CEOs of all the other corporations, so if a worker bee is a bad worker bee and one CEO knows it, it would be difficult for that worker bee to find another hive.
I'm not one to stress about appearances, and my children are fairly well behaved. But they are just children, and they are young children at that. I fully expect my kids to do just fine. But I fully expect it to be due in no small part to my constant vigilance. And that's not much fun.
Daunting Activity #3: another Christmas party
This one, on Saturday night, is more optional, but not really. One of those professional acquaintance situations. My friend Stacy was there on Thanksgivng and warned me about all the child unfriendly decorations at child accessible heights. To make it worse, there's a 50/50 chance Bill will have to work Saturday night. This does not let me off the hook. Especially since Stacy will be going sans her deployed husband. And her two littlest ones are the same ages as my two littlest ones.
Ah, the stress. Gotta love it.
And now, off to scour the house for Jenny's church shoes. Won't she look nice in pink tennies and her dress at the general's house?
I managed to get out of bed this morning with little resistance. I took Greta for a run. I sat down with my husband to do morning prayers and remembered it was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I love Marian feasts.
Holy light on earth's horizon,
Star of hope to those who fall,
Light amid a world of shadows,
Dawn of God's design for all,
Chosen from eternal ages,
You alone of all our race,
By your Son's atoning merits
Were conceived in perfect grace.
Hail, beloved of the Father,
Mother of his only Son,
Mystic bride of Love eternal,
Hail, O fair and spotless one!
Despite the early hour, I would have sung this if I had known the tune. I'm sure I'll be humming Marian hymns all day long. I am so grateful that the Holy Spirit has filled me with joy today. The next 48 hours are rather daunting, and I'll need all the extra graces I can get. And so, I say for now, my soul doth soar. We'll see how I feel tonight after the kids go to bed!
What's on the agenda?
Daunting Activity #1: Mass with the kids
Today is a Holy Day of Obligation. No begging off because Bill isn't here to help. God is all the help I need, and I must trust Him to get through it. The last time I did this was very frustrating, but I'm sure it will be different this time. Sure. Perhaps what will be most different is Mom's attitude!
On a good note, I had one of those half-awake revelations the other day. The Mass here on post is at noon, which doesn't work for the baby who likes to take his nap at that time. I go to another church not too far away. I went there on November 1st, and I went there on August 15th - another Marian feast. On August 15th, they sang no Marian hymns. I was a bit...flabbergasted. Disappointed. Shocked. Sad. And really, really angry. As I was lying in bed, not motivated to get up, I remembered this incident and reminded myself to go to another church, one more likely to honor Our Mother through a few of the many beautiful hymns about her.
This is good, because beginning the day angry does not set a good tone for other activities scheduled like...
Daunting Activity #2: Christmas party at the boss' house
The boss is a three star general. The whole family is expected to attend. You military folks will know that this is not optional, and that my husband, for good or ill and as unfair as it may be, will be judged by how his family behaves (or doesn't).
For you civilians, this means probably very little. A three star is like the CEO of a very large corporation. And he's friends with all the CEOs of all the other corporations, so if a worker bee is a bad worker bee and one CEO knows it, it would be difficult for that worker bee to find another hive.
I'm not one to stress about appearances, and my children are fairly well behaved. But they are just children, and they are young children at that. I fully expect my kids to do just fine. But I fully expect it to be due in no small part to my constant vigilance. And that's not much fun.
Daunting Activity #3: another Christmas party
This one, on Saturday night, is more optional, but not really. One of those professional acquaintance situations. My friend Stacy was there on Thanksgivng and warned me about all the child unfriendly decorations at child accessible heights. To make it worse, there's a 50/50 chance Bill will have to work Saturday night. This does not let me off the hook. Especially since Stacy will be going sans her deployed husband. And her two littlest ones are the same ages as my two littlest ones.
Ah, the stress. Gotta love it.
And now, off to scour the house for Jenny's church shoes. Won't she look nice in pink tennies and her dress at the general's house?
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Santa Claus
Yesterday, we read The True Story of Santa Claus by Paul Prokop. If you have a little Nicholas in your family, he will love that the main character is a boy of the same name. Nicholas wants to stay up to see Santa come. He does get to meet the jolly guy who shares a story about another boy named Nicholas who loved Jesus and promised to spend his life doing God's work.
"Sometimes, Nicholas would walk through the streets of the town bringing small gifts in Jesus' name to the poorest children. He wanted the children to have hope and to know that God really loved each of them."
The story tells how when Nicholas was a very old man, the Child Jesus appeared to him to take him to Heaven. Nicholas was concerned about the children and asked who would take care of them. "'You will,' said Jesus. 'Now you will look after the children of the whole world until the end of time.'"
This book does a wonderful job reconciling the legends surrounding the real man who walked on the earth and became a saint and the guy at the mall handing out candy canes. I know it's a growing trend among Catholics to follow the theological fashions determined by evangelical Protestants and eliminate Santa Claus. Rule #1: whatever evangelical Protestants are doing, do the opposite. Unless it's something like having tons of kids, which the Catholics did first. Then it's ok.
I really can't support the idea of eliminating all the fun out of Christmas. Remember, we Catholics are allowed to drink, dance, and go trick-or-treating. Nowhere in the Ten Commandments does it say: Thou shall not have a good time.
I think people can go overboard sometimes with Santa. Santa is used as a threat: be good or else no presents. Santa is used as a bribe: go to sleep so Santa will come. Santa, for many, becomes the whole meaning of Christmas. That doesn't make Santa bad, just abused.
I know some people are concerned that when children discover the "truth" they will doubt all the other "truths" they've been told about God, the Church, etc. I don't know. Personally, I don't tell my kids a whole lot about Santa Claus. I didn't tell them that he lived at the North Pole. I didn't tell them he had a wife or elf helpers. I have read some story books that talked about these things. But I've also read them story books about magic beans that grow into tall vines that reach to the sky, and talking bears who go for a walk until their porridge cools, and children who walk through a wardrobe into another world.
I have told them without a doubt that there was a man named Nicholas who, legends say, threw gold down chimneys where it landed in stockings hung to dry. I have told them we don't know exactly what he did for the poor and for the children because it happened so long ago, but he was loved and was named a saint, and his behavior is emulated by those who admire him.
I do remember finding out that Santa wasn't "real." My older brother clued me in. I don't know why he felt the need to do it, but he was about 10 at the time, and I really think 10 year old boys are, in general, a pretty low form of life. When I think of 10 year old boys, I think Lord of the Flies. Thank goodness, they grow up, eventually. I do remember being really upset to learn the "truth." I don't remember doubting the existance of God because of it. I don't remember feeling betrayed or lied to by my parents. Whatever disappointment I felt, I got over it. Christmas wasn't ruined, and eventually I understood it better: God works his miracles through us.
It is a superficial faith that demands the "magic" of an unseen hand. It wasn't a miracle; it was the surgeon's skill. It wasn't Divine Providence; it was good luck. It wasn't God; it was my own intelligence or talent. It's nothing special; it's just mom and dad putting the presents there.
Christmas is a special time. There is "magic" in the air. Things outside of our comprehension have happened - majestic miracles, unfathonable mysteries. A saint who transcends time and space to bring tokens of love is but a glimpse of the whole story.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Danielle's Advent Baking Carnival
Don't know what to bake for Christmas? Want to try a new recipe?
Check out Danielle Bean's Advent Baking Carnival. The only problem will be picking which ones to try!
Check out Danielle Bean's Advent Baking Carnival. The only problem will be picking which ones to try!
Happy Feast of St. Nicholas!
St. Nicholas
O good holy Nicholas,
you who brought joy to children,
put in my heart the spirit of childhood
about which the Gospel speaks.
Teach me how to sow
happiness around me. Amen.
—Prayer to St. Nicholas
Send a St. Nicholas Feast Day e-card or another Advent greeting from here.
Last night, we hosted friends for a St. Nicholas Vigil party. The kids watched Nicholas: The Boy Who Became Santa, which I'm sure my kids will want to watch again today. We ate yummy BBQ beef sandwiches which have nothing to do with St. Nicholas, but tasted great (thanks, Rachel)!
For dessert, we ate Speculaas, and there are leftovers to enjoy today. Every year, I make these cookies which are traditionally molded in a wooden cookie mold shaped like St. Nicholas. I don't have a wooden cookie mold shaped like anything, so I just roll the dough into logs, slice and bake. Every year, I seriously consider buying a wooden cookie mold, but never do. I'm scouring eBay once again, and I found this. It shows St. Nicholas leading his donkey loaded with gifts. Ends in two days. I'll have to think about it. It's $30 including the shipping... and I'm only going to use it once a year...and I don't need it until next year...and this is why I find myself every December 5th wishing I had a mold but not having one. On the other hand, I'm selling my special Christmas stockings faster than I can make them, so I could justify a splurge purchase...
I also spied at eBay some chocolate candy molds shaped like St. Nicholas. Thank goodness those listings ended! The two molds went for over $100 combined. But they were really cute. I'll stick with our plastic el cheap-o candy molds until after we win the lottery. Or maybe for when we find ourselves making candy for grandchildren.
Last week at work, a woman in my husband's office was asking everyone if they knew what day was the traditional day for giving gifts. My husband asked her which part of Europe she was talking about. She waved him off and disqualified Catholics from answering the question! None of the non-Catholics had the slightest clue that December 6th (and January 6th) were the days more closely associated with giving gifts throughout all of Europe. There was a time that learning about ethnic traditions of different countries was taught in schools, but I guess they dropped that part of the curriculum to spend more time doing things like dress-in-your-pajamas-day-and-watch movies, which I have known schools to do.
Fritz has just gotten up and can't wait to see what is in his stocking (St. Nicholas fills the stockings here, not the shoes). The other kids will be up soon, and he'll have to wait until then. Not much there: gold wrapped chocolate coins, special nativity chocolate lollipops, some Christmas coloring books, and a letter from St. Nicholas (courtesy of my husband):
My Dearest Fritz, Billy, Katie, Jenny, & Pete
As I am sure you are well aware, Christmas is just around the corner. Are you ready? Have you been good this year? Those questions will forever remain with you all the days of your life. Our lives are much like Advent, where we wait & prepare for the coming of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Christmas is very important & just as you must be good to receive gifts on Christmas morn, so too must you be good, & ready for when Jesus comes to us again. Now I know you have been pretty good all year & this has been a tough one with your Daddy gone often & each of you going to the doctor but you must try your very best. Keep up the good work. I know it is hard sometimes but you must be kind & loving to each other & obey your parents. Make sure you do your schoolwork & help your Mom with the chores. But most importantly keep saying your prayers with all of your heart. Be joyful in all that you do & love one another as Jesus loves you. I have left you a few coloring books for you all to share & some candy as a treat. May the Lord bless you all the days of your lives, & may He help you grow in love & kindness.
Sincerely,
St. Nicholas
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
The perfect gift
I know exactly what I want to get Bill for Christmas. The problem is, it doesn't seem to exist. There are three qualities I'm looking for in this item, and the best I can do is two out of three.
grrr...
On a funnier note, here's a video clip Bill sent me a few weeks ago called The Sweater. It's the memories of a French Canadian who grew up loving hockey, but especially loving Maurice Richard of the Montreal Canadiens. His Maurice Richard hockey sweater is too small and is confiscated by his mother. She orders him another one by writing a letter to a mail order company asking for a Canadian hockey sweater for her son. It arrives some time later - but the company picks a sweater for the Toronto Maple Leafs instead and his mother refuses to return it! The video is long, but worth it, especially at this time of year with perfect gift giving on our minds.
Well, maybe it's not so good, since the boy becomes the laughing stock of the town for wearing the wrong jersey. Just add a little stress to your life: if the gift isn't right, your dear loved one will be scarred for life!
Bill added a Maurice Richard jersey to the Christmas wish list. He's so picky: it's got to be the right size, the right fabric, the right team. Honey, the best I can do is two out of three...
grrr...
On a funnier note, here's a video clip Bill sent me a few weeks ago called The Sweater. It's the memories of a French Canadian who grew up loving hockey, but especially loving Maurice Richard of the Montreal Canadiens. His Maurice Richard hockey sweater is too small and is confiscated by his mother. She orders him another one by writing a letter to a mail order company asking for a Canadian hockey sweater for her son. It arrives some time later - but the company picks a sweater for the Toronto Maple Leafs instead and his mother refuses to return it! The video is long, but worth it, especially at this time of year with perfect gift giving on our minds.
Well, maybe it's not so good, since the boy becomes the laughing stock of the town for wearing the wrong jersey. Just add a little stress to your life: if the gift isn't right, your dear loved one will be scarred for life!
Bill added a Maurice Richard jersey to the Christmas wish list. He's so picky: it's got to be the right size, the right fabric, the right team. Honey, the best I can do is two out of three...
Monday, December 04, 2006
My cough
I've had a cough for three weeks now. It's been more annoying than anything else, but last week, I also started to feel short of breath and very lethargic. Sick? Me? The cough was bad enough to actually get mentioned in conversation with my sister (who suggested bronchitis) and with my mother (a RN and my personal health line who suggested a trip to the doctor). So I went to the doctor.
I hate going to the doctor. Especially when the diagnosis is basically we-don't-know-why-you're-coughing-here's-a-drug-to-make-you-stop. I hate taking drugs. I've been pregnant or nursing for 9 years now, and basically anything and everything is not recommended to take while your body provides nutrition for another body.
And yes, I'm still nursing that 17 month old who is at that obnoxious, demanding and possessive stage that signals to me it's time to start seriously weaning him.
"What is your plan to wean him?" asks my skeptical husband as we debate the prescription drugs sitting on the table near me.
"I'm already working on it," I claim. He cocks his eyebrows in doubt. "It's a gradual process."
I asked the doctor if the cough would go away untreated. "It's been three weeks," she said. I agree that three weeks can seem like an eternity, but it's really not.
We talked about possible causes - something triggered the cough. A cold? Maybe, I can't remember that long ago (it seems like an eternity). An allergen? Maybe, we did start closing all the windows and turning on the heat, and I have a bad habit of starting fires in the kitchen which generate smoke.
Bill and I decided that changing the air filters in the house was a good idea. It had been about a month since he replaced the 30 day filters with other 30 day filters. We went to Home Depot and bought "up to three months" filters with extra allergen filtering capability. They are a bit more expensive than the standard 30 day filters. We also bought an air freshener that goes right on the filter. Right now my house smells delightfully like cinnamon. Cool. But probably releasing an irritant into the air with every cycle of the heater!
And for the cough? I'm taking the one medication at night after Pete goes to sleep and skipping the morning dose. I'm a really bad patient. But I am noticing an improvement - not only am I coughing less, but my minute per mile pace is getting better - not good, just better. Yeah, I'm sick, but I'm still going for my morning run when I'm motivated to do so. Not only am I a bad patient, I'm an annoying sick person too. See, look at me! I'm sick but I'm running two miles anyway. And making dinner, and doing the dishes and tending to the needs of the whole family. And you think you can spend the day in bed because you have a witty bitty cold?
Ah, time to go to work now. I'll consider being sick some other time. Perhaps when I hire a nanny and a governess and a cook.
I hate going to the doctor. Especially when the diagnosis is basically we-don't-know-why-you're-coughing-here's-a-drug-to-make-you-stop. I hate taking drugs. I've been pregnant or nursing for 9 years now, and basically anything and everything is not recommended to take while your body provides nutrition for another body.
And yes, I'm still nursing that 17 month old who is at that obnoxious, demanding and possessive stage that signals to me it's time to start seriously weaning him.
"What is your plan to wean him?" asks my skeptical husband as we debate the prescription drugs sitting on the table near me.
"I'm already working on it," I claim. He cocks his eyebrows in doubt. "It's a gradual process."
I asked the doctor if the cough would go away untreated. "It's been three weeks," she said. I agree that three weeks can seem like an eternity, but it's really not.
We talked about possible causes - something triggered the cough. A cold? Maybe, I can't remember that long ago (it seems like an eternity). An allergen? Maybe, we did start closing all the windows and turning on the heat, and I have a bad habit of starting fires in the kitchen which generate smoke.
Bill and I decided that changing the air filters in the house was a good idea. It had been about a month since he replaced the 30 day filters with other 30 day filters. We went to Home Depot and bought "up to three months" filters with extra allergen filtering capability. They are a bit more expensive than the standard 30 day filters. We also bought an air freshener that goes right on the filter. Right now my house smells delightfully like cinnamon. Cool. But probably releasing an irritant into the air with every cycle of the heater!
And for the cough? I'm taking the one medication at night after Pete goes to sleep and skipping the morning dose. I'm a really bad patient. But I am noticing an improvement - not only am I coughing less, but my minute per mile pace is getting better - not good, just better. Yeah, I'm sick, but I'm still going for my morning run when I'm motivated to do so. Not only am I a bad patient, I'm an annoying sick person too. See, look at me! I'm sick but I'm running two miles anyway. And making dinner, and doing the dishes and tending to the needs of the whole family. And you think you can spend the day in bed because you have a witty bitty cold?
Ah, time to go to work now. I'll consider being sick some other time. Perhaps when I hire a nanny and a governess and a cook.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Happy New Year...
...liturgically speaking.
If you haven't already visited the Catholic Homeschool Carnival at O Night Divine it is definitely worth the time - homeschooler or not. The Advent ideas are fantastic. I'm taking a clue from Love2Learn Mom and have added Advent tasks to our paper chain countdown. My kids' tasks are things like making Christmas cards for different people on different days (our pastor, soldiers at Walter Reed), saying prayers for people who are sick or lonely, and taking canned goods to a food bank.
On Friday night, I made the usual mistake of getting all the Advent decorations out at once. So now I feel like I live in a holiday debris field. Tomorrow we will get to work and find seasonal homes for the Jesse Tree, the Christmas books, the perpetual Advent calendars, the nativity sets. We'll hide Jesus, set up the kings in a faraway land and put Mary, Joseph and donkey en route to the stable.
I've just about completed the gift shopping for Christmas. I think if I take a few hours without kids to go shopping, I can take care of a few minor details and be done. We were out today running errands, and I'm glad I did most of the shopping online - oh, the lines, the attitudes! I've made my to-do list, and now I just need to schedule the baking and cleaning and wrapping and decorating. If the kids ever go to bed tonight, I hope to make some chocolates. A few years ago, I decided that Christmas and Easter warranted special treats - Hershey Kisses just weren't good enough: too ordinary. At that time, there was a specialty chocolate shop near me, and I bought at least one treat for everyone. But they went out of business and left me hanging, so I started making my own. It's actually really easy, really fun, and an act of love.
This will be a busy week. Tomorrow, Katie's Little Flowers group has a craft co-op which means a big playdate for the kids with another family who's daughter is in the group (we play while the girls are at the meeting). And then Tuesday afternoon, this same family will come over for a St. Nicholas Vigil Feast Day party.
I'm telling myself I really need to let go of the school cirriculum this month. I've always derived much comfort from "checking the blocks" - from doing everything listed on the to-do list of school work. But that's not why I homeschool. I chose homeschooling so I could celebrate the Church seasons in all their glory first and foremost and not as an afterthought. Tis the season to prepare our hearts and minds and homes for the beautiful celebration of Christ's birth. Math should be the afterthought, not the Jesse Tree. We can learn about Henry Hudson in January - really, we can. This month should be St. Nicholas and St. Lucy and Our Lady of Guadalupe and delivering cookies to a neighbor with no kids at home and buying some presents for those who have little money. It is as hard for me to do this (let go of the cirriculum) as it is for me to sit still for my 15 minute daily rest. But my heart tells me it is right and that spelling can wait...as long as the kids are learning and doing all these things with me.
And so it begins. May this new Church year be a holy one for us all.
And as a post script...for some reason Blogger is no longer showing the WYSIWYG editor for posting or editing. All those links above were done in HTML instead of with the little icons that make life so much easier. What gives? Anyone have any clue what is going on?
If you haven't already visited the Catholic Homeschool Carnival at O Night Divine it is definitely worth the time - homeschooler or not. The Advent ideas are fantastic. I'm taking a clue from Love2Learn Mom and have added Advent tasks to our paper chain countdown. My kids' tasks are things like making Christmas cards for different people on different days (our pastor, soldiers at Walter Reed), saying prayers for people who are sick or lonely, and taking canned goods to a food bank.
On Friday night, I made the usual mistake of getting all the Advent decorations out at once. So now I feel like I live in a holiday debris field. Tomorrow we will get to work and find seasonal homes for the Jesse Tree, the Christmas books, the perpetual Advent calendars, the nativity sets. We'll hide Jesus, set up the kings in a faraway land and put Mary, Joseph and donkey en route to the stable.
I've just about completed the gift shopping for Christmas. I think if I take a few hours without kids to go shopping, I can take care of a few minor details and be done. We were out today running errands, and I'm glad I did most of the shopping online - oh, the lines, the attitudes! I've made my to-do list, and now I just need to schedule the baking and cleaning and wrapping and decorating. If the kids ever go to bed tonight, I hope to make some chocolates. A few years ago, I decided that Christmas and Easter warranted special treats - Hershey Kisses just weren't good enough: too ordinary. At that time, there was a specialty chocolate shop near me, and I bought at least one treat for everyone. But they went out of business and left me hanging, so I started making my own. It's actually really easy, really fun, and an act of love.
This will be a busy week. Tomorrow, Katie's Little Flowers group has a craft co-op which means a big playdate for the kids with another family who's daughter is in the group (we play while the girls are at the meeting). And then Tuesday afternoon, this same family will come over for a St. Nicholas Vigil Feast Day party.
I'm telling myself I really need to let go of the school cirriculum this month. I've always derived much comfort from "checking the blocks" - from doing everything listed on the to-do list of school work. But that's not why I homeschool. I chose homeschooling so I could celebrate the Church seasons in all their glory first and foremost and not as an afterthought. Tis the season to prepare our hearts and minds and homes for the beautiful celebration of Christ's birth. Math should be the afterthought, not the Jesse Tree. We can learn about Henry Hudson in January - really, we can. This month should be St. Nicholas and St. Lucy and Our Lady of Guadalupe and delivering cookies to a neighbor with no kids at home and buying some presents for those who have little money. It is as hard for me to do this (let go of the cirriculum) as it is for me to sit still for my 15 minute daily rest. But my heart tells me it is right and that spelling can wait...as long as the kids are learning and doing all these things with me.
And so it begins. May this new Church year be a holy one for us all.
And as a post script...for some reason Blogger is no longer showing the WYSIWYG editor for posting or editing. All those links above were done in HTML instead of with the little icons that make life so much easier. What gives? Anyone have any clue what is going on?
Friday, December 01, 2006
New Month's Resolution for December
In this hectic month of planning, shopping, decorating, and baking, I resolve that every day at some point between the hours of 2 and 4 pm, I will rest for 15 minutes. I will make a cup of hot tea with lemon and put on some nice music. I think I have a CD of Advent themed Gregorian chants which will be perfect.
I will not address Christmas cards at this time. I will not flip through cook books. And I will do everything I can to turn off the nagging voice that constantly adds things to my mental to-do list.
What's your new months' resolution? What is a new month's resolution?
I will not address Christmas cards at this time. I will not flip through cook books. And I will do everything I can to turn off the nagging voice that constantly adds things to my mental to-do list.
What's your new months' resolution? What is a new month's resolution?
Decorating for the holidays
Even though my husband is military, he works in an ordinary office building in an ordinary, mixed-zoning neighborhood. You might think his office was just any other civilian office building.
Except that the entrance is gated. And the guards are armed. And you have to show - not one, but - two forms of ID to get in, one of which they confiscate until you leave. And they inspect your bags to make sure you don't have bombs hidden between the diapers and the wipes. And the majority of workers bees running around are dressed in camouflage.
Except for those minor details, it's just an ordinary office building.
And like lots of ordinary office buildings, they are decorating for the holidays. There is a decorating contest for the different sections or departments. Last year, my husband's office (the one he is in right now, not the one he was in last year) nearly won. They are determined to take the blue ribbon this time.
The theme is something about supporting the soldier and his/her family no matter where in the world they are (I'm sure someone came up with much nicer phraseology than that, but I don't know what it is). The entrance to my husband's section is pretty big, so they have lots of physical room in which to work. They've decided on one side of their big foyer to have a living room scene with a Christmas tree, cookies for Santa, stockings hung with care. Only it's obvious that Dad is deployed. Maybe the letters to Santa ask him to bring dad home safely. Maybe there is an overseas package with wrapped gifts for the kids and notes from Dad saying he wishes he were there. There's a photo of dad in uniform.
Are you crying yet? No? You've never had your husband deployed, have you?
Well, it gets worse. On the other side of the room, will be a scene depicting the soldier's Christmas away from home. Ruck sack, boots, mini-tree, mini-nativity set, care package from home.
I have to go to his office in a few weeks for the Holiday party. I really don't think I'll look at the decorations.
I offered to have the kids draw pictures for "Daddy" away from home for Christmas. Blogger won't let me upload their drawings right now, but they each took to the task with gusto.
But Billy, my sweet Billy...when given the assignment, he excitedly described his plans for what to draw. "I'm going to show Dad in battle with all the bad guys dead!!!"
"NO! No blood and guts in the Christmas picture! No, no, no!"
He paused while he thought about that.
"But Mom...red is a Christmas color, right?"
Oh. My.
He drew a house with Santa landing on the roof. And seven presents under the tree, plus an 8th wrapped dog bone.
Maybe later I'll post the pictures.
Except that the entrance is gated. And the guards are armed. And you have to show - not one, but - two forms of ID to get in, one of which they confiscate until you leave. And they inspect your bags to make sure you don't have bombs hidden between the diapers and the wipes. And the majority of workers bees running around are dressed in camouflage.
Except for those minor details, it's just an ordinary office building.
And like lots of ordinary office buildings, they are decorating for the holidays. There is a decorating contest for the different sections or departments. Last year, my husband's office (the one he is in right now, not the one he was in last year) nearly won. They are determined to take the blue ribbon this time.
The theme is something about supporting the soldier and his/her family no matter where in the world they are (I'm sure someone came up with much nicer phraseology than that, but I don't know what it is). The entrance to my husband's section is pretty big, so they have lots of physical room in which to work. They've decided on one side of their big foyer to have a living room scene with a Christmas tree, cookies for Santa, stockings hung with care. Only it's obvious that Dad is deployed. Maybe the letters to Santa ask him to bring dad home safely. Maybe there is an overseas package with wrapped gifts for the kids and notes from Dad saying he wishes he were there. There's a photo of dad in uniform.
Are you crying yet? No? You've never had your husband deployed, have you?
Well, it gets worse. On the other side of the room, will be a scene depicting the soldier's Christmas away from home. Ruck sack, boots, mini-tree, mini-nativity set, care package from home.
I have to go to his office in a few weeks for the Holiday party. I really don't think I'll look at the decorations.
I offered to have the kids draw pictures for "Daddy" away from home for Christmas. Blogger won't let me upload their drawings right now, but they each took to the task with gusto.
But Billy, my sweet Billy...when given the assignment, he excitedly described his plans for what to draw. "I'm going to show Dad in battle with all the bad guys dead!!!"
"NO! No blood and guts in the Christmas picture! No, no, no!"
He paused while he thought about that.
"But Mom...red is a Christmas color, right?"
Oh. My.
He drew a house with Santa landing on the roof. And seven presents under the tree, plus an 8th wrapped dog bone.
Maybe later I'll post the pictures.
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