New Year's Resolutions

I just re-read my New Year's resolutions for last year. Very amusing. My favorite is #6: potty train Peter. I think I'll try that again this year!

Looking ahead, this coming year will be another crazy one with June being a climactic month: Bill graduates, we move, Bill gets promoted, Bill gets deployed. Yes, June is all about Bill.

Keeping this major upheaval in mind, here are this year's resolutions:

1. The Battle of the Baby Bulge: yes, I know, nine months on...nine months off. I'm going to try to do it in less. I can't help it. I'm very impatient.

2. Run 500 miles. Get my time down to a 9 minute mile over 5 or 6 miles. I'd like to do the Army Ten Miler, but with Bill gone, I don't see that happening. It's hard to find a babysitter for 5 am on a Sunday morning. Thank goodness we now have a treadmill, or I don't even think I'd get 100 miles run.

3. Sort photos. Really. I'm going to do it this year.

4. Read at least one book per month. Sadly this homeschool mother spends so much time reading to her kids, she's forgotten that there are books out there for grown ups. Some of them aren't even about real people, and they are quite entertaining.

5. Pay off the van. I hate having a car payment.

6. Potty train Peter. This time I mean it.

7. Pray the Morning Prayers every morning and the Evening Prayers every evening.

8. Keep up the Saturday night movie dates until Bill leaves. After that, I'll get tear-jerker chick flicks and a bag of Reese's peanut butter cups instead.

9. Resist the temptation to wash that gray right out of my hair. I've been one full year dye-free. The sun did a lovely job highlighting last spring, so I'll try to spend lots of time in the sun this year.

10. Teach my boys Hearts and Spades. Chinese checkers is fun, Blokus is great, Scrabble is challenging, but nothing beats a card game for portability and cut-throat competitiveness.


And I'll still do my new month's resolutions. Those are perfect for the little things I procrastinate about.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Holy Family Day Trip

For the record: from the moment we decide to go somewhere, on a whim, to the time we actually manage to get the eight of us showered, dressed, fed, packed up, shoes tied, gloves and coats on, in the car, belts buckled, and one-more-run-back-into-the-house-for-the-camera, over two hours pass. Embarrassing. Needs improvement.

We don't normally attend the Saturday vigil, but we did this weekend. This left our Sunday, the Feast of the Holy Family, open to celebrate by going somewhere fun.

First, we headed to Union Station and bought a family pass for Science City. We have to go two more times to make it worth the cost, but it shouldn't be a problem. It's a great place for the kids to work off excess energy on cold winter days. Billy particularly enjoyed the area that looked like a city sewer system and the black sewer tunnel you could crawl through. I think he went through the tunnel 20 or 30 times. Jenny tried four times to go, but, even with siblings, was too scared. I don't think we saw a third of the things in Science City. We'll go back.

Next, we used The Link, an elevated glass walkway (too cool), to get to the Crown Center. It has a shopping area, which we didn't care about, but it also had several seasonal displays including a gingerbread village with a train. The kids loved that. Outside there was a large Christmas tree, a display that kids could climb on (like this train), and a skating terrace. We did not go skating, and the kids were highly disappointed.

We finished our day by eating at Fritz's Railroad Restaurant. How could we not? We ate at the one at the Crown Center, but this link shows the original one, not too far away. You order by using the phone at your table, and your meal is delivered by an overhead train. It was cute. It was fun. The food was greasy, but I happen to like greasy food, and it's fine in moderation (like once a year).

There was a family with seven kids (gasp!) at the restaurant. I resisted the impulse to ask if they were all theirs. And then we saw another family with about 5 kids. I asked Bill if it was Big Family Field Trip Day or what. Maybe they all had the same idea we did: honor the Holy Family by making our own family memories. It was, all in all, a good day.

Dear Aunt Heather,

It's a perfect fit.

Thank you!



Love, Mary

Would you care for a (slightly used) nut?

Peter likes M&Ms (who doesn't?).


Peter likes plain M&Ms.


Peter does not like peanut M&Ms.


We only happen to have peanut M&Ms in the house right now. {My husband, who is addicted to M&Ms, switched to peanut from plain several years ago out of health reasons: nuts being a source of protein.}

If the M&Ms are left within his reach, Peter will eat them. The plain part. The peanut part he'll put back for someone else to eat.

St. Nicholas, patron of children, not dogs

Billy, upon noticing that there were bones in the dog's stocking, exclaimed:

"Oh! It looks like St. Francis came last night for Greta!"

In my dreams

I'm not in need of any pajamas, but last night, in my dreams, I went shopping for a nightgown.

I do not own any nightgowns. I haven't owned nightgowns since I was a little girl.

I was specifically looking at the flannel kind with high necks and ruffled trims.

And if that's not pathetic enough, I opted not to buy any because they weren't breast-feeding friendly (no easy access).

These are the nightmares dreams of a middle-aged mother of six little kids.

Merry Christmas

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us...John 1:14

Blessings to you and yours.

Christmas Everywhere

by Phillips Brooks

Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight!
Christmas in lands of the fir-tree and pine,
Christmas in lands of the palm-tree and vine,
Christmas where snow peaks stand solemn and white,
Christmas where cornfields stand sunny and bright.
Christmas where children are hopeful and gay,
Christmas where old men are patient and gray,
Christmas where peace, like a dove in his flight,
Broods o'er brave men in the thick of the fight;
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas tonight!

For the Christ-child who comes is the Master of all;
No palace too great, no cottage too small.

No hustle and bustle

The forecast called for 1 to 3 inches. I think we got 5 or 6. It's very pretty.

The temperatures are expected to get a bit above freezing in the afternoons the next two days. I think we'll still manage to have a white Christmas, but I don't know how pretty it will be.

Our neighborhood is quiet. Probably half of our neighbors have "gone home" for Christmas.

The shopping is done. The baking is done. The Christmas postcards are in the mail, as are all the gift boxes. The lights are on the tree, and we'll put the ornaments on tomorrow. We have a good supply of wood for the fireplace. We've got all the ingredients for several more batches of eggnog.

We have no plans to travel, and no expected visitors. Although we miss our relatives, we aren't missing the stress of packing, the nightmare of driving several hours with little children, or the futile attempt to clean the house before guests come.

This is perhaps the quietest, calmest Christmas I've ever had.

The Other Woman's Gift

Service in the military has been compared to loving a mistress. Few soldiers are in it for the money, the benefits, the travel opportunities, or the hours. As a military wife, I often feel I have to fight for family unity and preeminence in my soldier's life. But no matter how much my husband may love his country and his career, I know, deep down, that he loves me better.

Sure, Mistress Military, you might get to take my husband to Scotland, but he pines for me while he's gone. Ha!

I know I need not compete with her for my husband's affection, but it certainly makes my life harder when she keeps trying to impress him with her gifts. And now, just days before Christmas, she gives him a present that I can't top: she went and put him on the promotion list. Do you think he'll like that Chia Pet now? Sure, he may like his new socks and underwear, but they won't put the same smile on his face as a higher rank.

Oh, but wait, it kinda makes me smile too...

Congratulations, sweetheart. I'm glad she recognizes your worth.

And now, the big question is: will I get to see the rank pinned on this summer? I've not seen a single promotion yet. And you made the mistake of promising I'd see this next one...

Last minute mailings

Back in November, an email went around suggesting that everyone send a card to Walter Reed Army Medical Center addressed to "Any Wounded Soldier." Then, we all found out that WRAMC would not deliver those cards for security reasons.

I just found out that Red Cross volunteers will accept, screen and deliver cards (only) to wounded soldiers. Cards must be received by December 27th. If you have leftover cards that you don't want to save for next year, considering sending them to these troops. You can get the address and guidelines for the program here. If you can't get it in the mail by today, it's probably too late.

If you want to do more for wounded troops, considering supporting Operation Undergarment. No deadline.

I've been blog-blessed

Barb blessed me, and now I'm passing on the blessing.

The idea… it’s a game of tag with a difference, rather than looking inwardly, we look outside ourselves and bless, praise and pray for three blog friends. By participating in this endeavour we not only make the recipients of the blessing feel valued and appreciated, but we are having some fun too. We’re going to see how far the bloggin’ blessings can travel around the world and how many people can be blessed! Recipients of a bloggin’ blessing may upload the above image to their sidebar if they choose to. If you receive a bloggin’ blessin’ please leave a comment on this thread here so that we can rejoice in just how many blessings have been sent around the world!

I bless….Jennie, Angoraknitter, and Cris.

I bless Jennie, Angoraknitter, and Cris because.… they are married to men in the military which affords unique and difficult challenges to living a faith-filled life, raising children, and acheiving domestic peace.

A Prayer for Jennie, Angoraknitter, and Cris…may the blessing of almighty God, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, come down upon you and remain with you forever. Amen.

+++

and that’s it, nearly…

So, all Jennie, Angoraknitter, and Cris now have to do is to:

a) bless 3 blog buddies each.

b) Include the ‘God Bless you’ image in their post.

c) Explain briefly why they are blessing the people they are blessing.

d) pray/include in the post the prayer for the recipients of the blessing.

e)The recipient/sender of a blessing should type in the com box of this very post that a blessing has been sent to them so we can keep track of how many blessings are being given.

You can put a child in bed, but you can't make him sleep.

And a thirsty horse has more sense than an exhausted toddler.

My kids are spooled up. Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, packages seem to arrive every day by post (or by Brown), and then said packages disappear, cookies are baking, decorations are going up, we're going to parties, the kids are drinking soda and staying up late. My older ones know that the real fun hasn't even begun yet, and are getting antsier by the minute.

Within the hour, my boys will wake up and Billy will say, "It's three more days until Christmas!" And Fritz will respond, "Three days and a wake up!" That's what they do, every morning.

All of my kids seem to be having a bit of difficulty getting to sleep, some are even getting up earlier than normal, and everybody's moods are a bit more...delicate. The worst one, though, is Peter. He fights his naps, despite demonstrating all morning long that he is in desperate need of one. If he manages to fall asleep, a big IF, he might sleep for an hour instead of his usual 2 or 3. Then he's miserable all afternoon long, but when bedtime comes, he fights that too. Instead of compensating by sleeping late the following morning, he may wake one or more times at night and get up earlier than normal in the morning.

And then it begins again. Each day has been just a bit worse than the day before.

This morning I felt so bad for the kid. He climbed into my bed at some early hour. But from 4 am until after 5, he tossed and turned like a true insomniac. I finally offered to rock him in the chair in his room. First he tried his own bed and rolled around there. Then he let me rock him as I silently prayed a rosary with the intention of this poor child to get some rest. He seemed to be asleep, and three decades later I tried to put him in bed. He woke up. I brought him downstairs and put on Noggin, hoping he would zone out in front of the TV. He rolled around on the couch and then the floor, trying to get comfortable, trying to go back to sleep. Finally I had him snuggle on my lap until he was snoring soundly. He's there now, but I doubt he'll get more than an hour of rest before the din of the day wakes him.

I've never given my kids Benedryl, but I think this kid needs some help.

I think this mom needs some help.

Adventures in Sledding

After Mass last Sunday, a parishioner asked my kids if they had been sledding. They assured him they had. Had they been on Suicide Hill? he asked. No, just the hills in our neighborhood.

My kids wanted to know where Suicide Hill was. It's near The Prison, but there is more than one around here, and we passed The Other One on Tuesday morning. They wanted to know if the hills over there were Suicide Hill. I explained it was the wrong prison and then asked if they knew what suicide meant. Really fast? guessed Fritz. I defined suicide and explained how that applied to a sledding hill. I then got to hear the boys evaluate every hill we passed for its suicide factor.

Katie didn't quite get the vocabulary lesson, and later was talking about sledding on Shoe Size Hill. Is that narrow or medium width?

The last few days have brought warmer temps. The kids asked to go sledding yesterday, and I warned them they might not be able to do so. They persisted and were off. Jenny was the first to return, crying, covered from head to toe in mud. I got a towel on the floor before she came in, but then, like a wet dog, she shook her hands and wet mud splattered all over the walls and floor. No photos, just damage control.

Katie came home next, but Bill was ready for her.

And the boys, being boys, had to be ordered home.

Progress

The baby sleeps in our room - mostly in our bed, but, more and more often, she will take a good nap in her bassinet and often she'll begin the night with four or five hours there.

That's great.

Except all the Christmas presents are in my room, and they need to be wrapped. I've tried, several times, and failed, every time, to wrap while she sleeps. No dice.

Thankfully, last night, I was able to put her down on the couch. After I cleaned the kitchen, finished baking a batch of cookies, and even tidied my desk, I really wanted to go to bed. But still, she slept. I decided that it would be foolish of me to not take advantage of this, and so, I wrapped.

With the exception of one present for Bill, one present that has not arrived yet, and a balance bike we intend to assemble on Christmas Eve, all of the Christmas presents are wrapped.

Ahem.

Rather, all of the Christmas Day presents are wrapped. We only give some presents on the 25th. We give some on the Feast of the Epiphany, and scatter a few others in between (really, is there a better way to begin the new year than with a new book?). Nevertheless, I am pleased with this accomplishment and know that Christmas Eve will not likely be a 2 AM ordeal, as has often been the case.

Now, off to bake.

The Numbers - Part II

0 - Christmas cards I've addressed (I'm trying to be consistent).



1 - Lucid story I want to type up before Christmas (lucidity being a tall order when one can only type in dribs and drabs throughout the 24 hour "workday").



2 - Hour of the morning that the baby has soiled her diaper four mornings in a row (praise God in all things and at all hours).



3 - Times I was outbid on eBay for a mobile for the baby's crib before I finally got one at a reasonable price.



4 - Baked goods recipes I mixed up while the baby took a marathon 3 1/2 hour nap (only one actually got baked, but at least the dough is done).



5 - Packages Bill got to the Post Office yesterday.



6 - Packages left to be sent.



7 - Days until Christmas (I have a lot of wrapping to do)!

Sweet Moments

...when the baby fusses, and Fritz or Katie rush over to try to comfort her...

...when Jenny cries that the chocolate for that day in her Advent calendar is missing and Billy immediately bites his in half and shares...

...when I wonder why Peter is taking so long to get into the pew at church and I look down to see him doing his best to imitate my genuflection...

...when Katie joyfully offers to fold the basket of baby clothes...

...when my husband asks, "What can I do to help?"

...when Jenny spends an hour with paper and markers, crumpling no less than five sheets in frustration, nearly having a meltdown, and complaining that the loud Christmas music is messing her up, only in the end to run to me with shining eyes to say, "Mommy, this is for you!"

...when the baby interrupts story time with a sneeze and the whole crowd responds with a lilting "bless you" as if she just performed the cutest trick...

...when Fritz tells me it's too bad that the baby didn't take a good nap because I sure would have enjoyed sledding with him...

...when Peter asks his daddy if he'll play trains and Bill gets up right away to do it...and then an hour later I find all four males of the house in a bedroom blasting Christmas rock music and trying to build Lego trains...

...this is why I do what I do.

I spy with my little eye...

...something in the mail from Netflix.


This is what my desk looked like on Thursday night. Neat piles. Easy to find everything that needs to be found. A pleasant place to sit and work.






This is what my desk looks like right now, the way it looked by yesterday afternoon, and the way it looks most of the time. Piles and piles and piles. There's hardly room to use the tracker ball. It's amazing that the phone happens to be on top - usually it gets buried. I would say the photo qualifies for an I Spy book, except that there is no harmony in this picture.

And the truly frustrating thing about this is that it's not (all) me. Yes, I am responsible for the phone book and that box that contains CDs of Christmas music. But that isn't my ruler, not my drawing of a boat. Unseen are the two dozen other pieces of priceless artwork and an Army beret that does not even belong to my husband. The problem is that when I tell the kids to clear the dining room table, they simply move everything to my nearby desk. What they don't realize is that the vast bulk of their artwork goes right into the recycle bin.

Perhaps one thing I'll do next year is get an art bin and train my children to store their things there. As for the beret that belongs in the dress up box? Maybe that box is too full and needs to be pared down...

Not guilty - Part II

What goes on behind mom's back - literally.

The Numbers

0 - Christmas cards I've addressed (also happens to be the same number of Christmas cards I have in my possession)

1 - Birthday party to attend before Christmas

2 - Days the local schools were closed due to the recent ice storm

3 - Times I warmed my coffee in the microwave before managing to finish it today

4 - Children snooping around boxes, bags, computer screens, lists, closets, and basements

5 - Markers/colored pencils the dog chewed up today (not my problem)

6 - Stinky diapers the baby had today (this is good, I am not complaining)

7 - Tins of Christmas cheer that need to be mailed

8 - People in this house getting less sleep than they should be

9 - Times I reminded the children that the faster they do their schoolwork, the sooner they can go out to play

10 - Wet mittens/gloves littering the floor near my front door

11 - Items left to be purchased

12 - Days until Christmas (are you ready?)

Our Lady of Guadalupe...

...pray for us.

Dear sister of mine,

I thought you loved me! Why, oh why, did you leave that opened bag of potato chips here?

I can't give it to the children...it is much too unhealthy for them.

And Bill doesn't like barbecue flavor.

It is entirely up to me to eat them. All of them. Before morning. Because that no-yummy-food program was working really well until you showed up and lead me into temptation, and I'm going straight back to it. Tomorrow. When these chips are gone.

Have a safe flight to Alaska, and be sure to call me crying about housing like you always do. And get me your address as soon as you can, so I can mail you five dozen of my Crinkled Molasses Cookies. Your hips won't mind a bit.

BFF.
Peace. Out.

Winter Yuckyland

We still happen to have electricity, but I wonder if I should crank the heat to 80 degrees to buy some time just in case?

God, do you mind if I hit the snooze button?

The little old lady called again this morning. I'm telling myself that she has an appointment at a dialysis center. Since my grandmother had to do that, it's making me much more charitable to the early wake up call. I now know the number of the local cab company by heart.

We watched Evan Almighty yesterday. Funny movie. I recommend it, especially since it is family-friendly. Evan's alarm clock keeps going off at 6:14 am, even though he sets it for 7. Turns out, it's God getting him up and giving him a message.

Maybe my little old lady is on the Divine payroll...

A night on the town (for old, married folk)

My sister leaves tomorrow. But we're not going to think about it.

Yesterday was a busy, but very nice, day. In the evening, my sister, her husband (Bill), my Bill and I went out. Mary came, too, but all the other kids stayed home with pizza, several movies, and a babysitter. I don't think the four of us have ever been out like that.

We took them to an Irish-style restaurant, and afterward went next door to the Irish-style pub. The atmosphere was great, the music (before the live band began) was not too loud, and the water refreshing and cold (guess who was designated driver on the icy streets?).

It has been a long time since my clothes reeked of cigarette smoke, and I think Mary is my first child to smell like that. But despite the bad mommy guilt complex, I'm trying to convince myself that the air wasn't that smoky (and, compared to a bar in Europe where everyone smokes heavily, it wasn't), and that going there regularly won't be too unhealthy for her. We enjoyed it that much.

Thank you, world

The little old lady wanted a cab. She called about 15 minutes before my husband's alarm was scheduled to go off. People only seem to need cabs after 9 pm and before 6 am. We frequently get calls intended for the local cab company. Our numbers are similar, but the two digits that are different aren't near each other on the dial. I couldn't figure out why so many people would make the mistake.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you have the wrong number," my husband said when she called.

"Ma'am, we're not a cab company," he said the second time she called.

"Ma'am, this is a residence," he stressed the third time, still managing to be polite though barely awake.

The phone book was downstairs. I started fumbling for my robe and slippers. I took her fourth call upstairs, but when I said it was a wrong number, she quickly hung up. By her next call, I was within reach of the phone book and asked her to stay on the line while I got her the right number. When I recited it to her, she repeated back to me my own number which sounds similar. At least now I understand where the error is: not in dialing, but in hearing the correct numbers, likely from an automated information line.

She said thank you, but it was rather curt. I understand. She was frustrated. She was trying to get a cab and was calling the number given and was failing. There is no other cab company, so if she couldn't get through, she couldn't get a cab. Finally, she gets another number and she's off to see if she has better luck with it.

I would have liked to have heard profuse gratitude for my efforts of getting out of bed to get the correct number. I would have liked to have heard sincere apologies for disturbing us at such an early hour. But I realize that my "good deed" was hardly altruistic. I just wanted the phone to stop ringing before the other half of my household was awakened.

For today, at least, let me try to see, appreciate and express my thanks to everyone who helps me. Like my sister, Barb, who has baked all my Christmas cookies, done my laundry, cooked, cleaned, scolded children, held the baby, and done countless other tasks on her "vacation" at my home.

Not guilty

Don't blame me, little reindeer girl. I did not take this picture.

Happy Feast of St. Nicholas

Morgan (age 8): Well, since he has "saint" in his name, he must live in Heaven. And they let him come down once a year to bring us candy!

7 Things

Kristina wants to know 7 things about me...things not generally known.

That's tough. I'll blab about everything. I've been blabbing here for quite some time too. But I'll try.

1. My middle name is Anna-Marie. Not Anne-Marie. Not Anna-Maria. And not Anna Marie. DO NOT forget that hyphen.

2. I do not prefer apricots or peaches. Not to eat. Not as a lotion scent or a body fragrance.

3. I have hitchhiker's thumbs.

4. I drink my coffee with quite a bit of milk, but no sugar.

5. My favorite "for-pay" job I ever had was as a cook for migrant farm workers one summer. It was a cherry farm. I didn't make much money, but I got to cook lunch and dinner for 20 or 30 men.

6. I have a fear of drowning. I have an even bigger fear of my children drowning.

7. I do not like biology.

I must go to bed, so I won't do any tagging. Play along if you have the time!

My houseguests

My sister is in the middle of moving to Alaska. She and my nephew and niece have come to visit for the week. Her husband and two dogs will get here on Saturday, and then they'll all leave on Monday.

We've been fortunate for the last half dozen years in that we've managed to spend big chunks of time under the same roof. There was the time in 2001, I think, where she and the kids lived with me for a few months (an Army wife war story). Then there was the month she came out in 2003 when Jenny was born (yet another Army wife war story). In between and since, one of us would visit the other and stay for at least a week. Not a year has gone by where we haven't done this, and we very happy our children have had these opportunities to be together. Often, the quarters have been so crowded that in the end we are all sick to death of each other and the kids act like squabbling siblings more than fun, yet rarely seen, cousins.

And that's the way we like it. Only people who know you really well can get under your skin so much. The "sibling rivalry" among non-siblings is a sign that we've accomplished our goal of tight-knit family togetherness.

But Alaska is very far away. I'm not confident that we'll be able to see each other annually, and three years is a long time for little children. So her visit here is somewhat sad. I rejoice at having yet another opportunity to be together, but I worry it will have to sustain us for some time.

In the mail today

From the AARP:

Our records indicate you haven't yet registered for the benefits of AARP membership, even though you are fully eligible.

I'm feeling a bit Rip van Winkle-ish. It is 2007, right?

Full house

I have guests for the week.

Food for Thought

Our pastor began his homily yesterday with an anecdote from the life of St. Dominic Savio (a good saint for boys). While playing soccer as a boy, he and the other boys discussed what they would do if "The End" were rapidly approaching. One boy said he would hurry to find a priest and confess his sins. Another said he would run home and apologize to his mother for his misdeeds. St. Dominic said he would continue to play soccer.

His point was that he was doing what God wanted him to do all the time. Not only did he not have sins to confess or wrongs for which to atone, his life was in balance. At every minute of every day, he was doing what he ought to be doing.

Advent is a time when the readings from the Bible seem apocalyptic. Do not be caught unaware, we are warned. For you do not know on which day your Lord will come. We need to be watchful - not praying and fretting every minute. God does not expect us to spend all day on our knees. He does expect us to do our jobs and to follow the inspiration of His Spirit all the time. Our watchfulness is to be directed, not at outward signs seeing the Second Coming behind every earthquake or natural disaster, but rather at our own actions.

Are we doing what we ought to be doing all the time?

If I feel that I would need to rush off to confession if I knew I would die today, then I'm either sinning too much, or not going to confession often enough. If I feel that I would want to make things right with someone else before I died, then I need to do it now, and stop holding grudges or stop withholding my apologies. If I feel that I would need to get on my knees and pray, then I have not made a proper habit of regular prayer time and my thoughts in between those of formal prayer are not directed enough Heavenward.

I think I have much room for improvement.

First Sunday of Advent

I totally respect businesses that remain closed on Sundays. And I really would be scandalized if a religious goods store were open on Sundays. But...I do wish they should make an exception on the First Sunday of Advent. It would be nice if they'd open for a little bit - perhaps one hour. One well-publicized hour.



I never ever begin the First Sunday of Advent with candles.



And yes, when I go to the store tomorrow, I will buy two sets so I won't be in this bind next year (of course, Murphy's Law reminds me that the sole object lost in our upcoming move next year will be the Advent candles).





On another note, this first Sunday of the new Church year has already provided me with a challenge. Today in Mass I sat in front of two women - active members - who chatted with themselves and their children throughout the entire Mass, including the Consecration. I almost lost it when one tried to engage me in conversation during the post-Communion hymn. I am hardly the most pious person in the pews, and my own children's behavior ensures that transcendent meditation will never be accomplished by anyone within 20 feet of our group, but I don't need other adults thwarting my own feeble attempts to pray.

I'm not a confrontational person. I won't be pulling them aside and telling them how disrespectful they were - they know better anyway. Instead, like St. Therese of Lisieux, it is for me to just deal with it, patiently, lovingly.

New Month's Resolution for December

And I'm posting this on the first of the month. That's quite an improvement.

I have begun reading, for the third time, C.S. Lewis' The Four Loves.

I will finish it this month.