Halloween: the Aftermath

Halloween was a real bust this year. Between the drizzly, rainy weather and the World Series, we had fewer than 40 trick-or-treaters. On a Saturday, no less!

Little Brother got a ton of candy, though. He came home, spilled out his pillowcase and immediately started divvying it up. No one was here to trade with him, so he went straight into donation mode. "Mom, do you like this? Does Big Brother like this? What about Middle Sister?"

I left a bowl on the coffee table labeled "Donations Gratefully Accepted." It's full.

Big Brother is happy that not too many kids came here, because his friends all bailed on the plan to come and trick-or-treat in this neighborhood. He's claiming the leftovers. (Note to Big Brother: the Milky Ways are MINE.)

There were two parents who came to my door in costume and bearing bags of candy. Really? Parents--trick-or-treating? Come on! (Yes, I gave them candy.)

I was not so kind to the three "repeaters" who showed up here. Maybe if they'd left more than a 5-minute interval between visits, I'd have forgotten them and given them a second handful of candy.

And in the middle of the day I ran out to Petsmart to load up on birdseed--it was the last day of a really good sale on the 40-lb bags. Remind me never again to go to Petsmart on Saturday. It was nuts in there. All kinds of pets, and people milling around the deeply-discounted "dog costume" display. Spare me. On my way out of the parking lot, I passed the Halloween store, where a kid walking out of the store with his mom was wearing a t-shirt that said "This IS my costume." I hate that kind of thing; it seems so rude. Guess who showed up at my house a few hours later wanting candy?

Middle Sister went out with friends in a different neighborhood. I think she learned her lesson: many people were clearly home but didn't open the door when they knocked. Next time, her friends can all come here.

Big relief: not too many "out-of-line" costumes this year. Even most of the older girls were dressed "cute" rather than "hooker." I saw a lot of pirates, Star Wars characters and insect (butterfly, ladybug, caterpillar) and The Wizard of Oz was big this year too. In fact, my dentist and her entire office was dressed up in Wizard of Oz costumes. Let me tell you, it's hard to take a dentist seriously when she's dressed as Glinda, the Good Witch of the North.

Bishops Urge Catholics to Write to Congress Re: Health-Care Plan

There's no time to lose!

The Bishops have urged Catholics in the USA to email their Congress members this weekend.

Pat Gohn has the scoop:

When you attend Sunday Mass this weekend, you may see a bulletin insert from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.... you can read the insert in this pdf file.

The Bishops are calling on all Americans to contact Congress to oppose health care reform that does not respect the dignity of human life, and which support abortion with tax dollars.

The bishops have made an easy-to-use one-stop fill-in-the-blank form to send your comments to Congress. Pass this link on to others!

The main page from the Bishops about healthcare is here. There is lots of good information there.

Image credit

Friday Happy Happenings

So far so good today.

Only 2 cavities at the dentist--not bad for skipping out on appointments for 18 months. And she was too busy showing off her "Glinda, Good Witch of the North" costume (yeah, my dentist wore a costume to work today!) to bother me about much.

There's a Wawa right across the street from the dentist, so I got a good cup of coffee after I left.

I got home pretty quickly and got some of my work done before it was time to watch the kids' Halloween Parade at school.

The parade was cute, as always. I'm glad I went. Clever, last-minute "costume" from one boy who didn't bring one to school: a coin taped to the back of his t-shirt. He was a "quarterback." (Would have been more effective if he had a giant-sized fake quarter on his back, but oh well. It's the thought that counts.)

I stopped at the library to pick up the 2 books that were on reserve for me--only to find out that I had 9 waiting there! Guess the notices are backed up in the system. Good thing I had an empty tote bag in the car.

Then it was off to Sam's to stock up on "Gummy" vitamins, iron supplements, and plastic cups for Middle Sister's party today. She's having some friends over. I'd rather they hang out here on Mischief Night, so I can confine them to my own family room and not worry about whose neighborhood they are wandering. BONUS: Sam's had big bags of ice, so I didn't have to make another stop at a convenience store to get that.

All I have to do for this party is supervise a tidy-up (and vacuuming) of the family room, do a swish through the bathrooms, and make some pizza roll-ups and pepperoni bread. Maybe I'll get really motivated and get the recipe for that pepperoni bread posted to my recipe blog.

Thursday Miscellaneous Vents

I'm really glad the Cub Scout meeting is over for tonight. Just a note to the Cubmaster: Halloween parties are great, but moms (including, and maybe especially me) do freak out when our little boys get chocolate cupcake icing all over their WHITE Halloween costumes that they need for tomorrow's parade at school and Saturday's trick-or-treat. It is a mom's prerogative to freak out, considering that she will have to come home from the Cub Scout meeting and do laundry. Moms do not like to have to do laundry AND herd Cub Scouts into the shower all at the same time.

I'm really glad that I wasn't the one who had to vacuum the meeting room after the Cub Scouts and their little brothers and sisters ate cupcakes, pretzels and potato chips in there.

I'm not looking forward to my dentist appointment tomorrow. Not only will it cut into my writing time, but it's a dentist appointment, which is something I dread. Last time I was there, she made a snarky comment about the wide age-spacing of my children. And my husband thinks I don't go back to the dentist because I can't stand getting cavities filled. There is SO much more to it than that.

I'm also not up for the school Halloween parade, though it's always cute and I'll probably change my mind when I get there, provided the dentist is all done with me and I'm not too hot under the collar because of any snarky remarks she makes during that appointment.

And I've pretty much got no voice at this point, though I can't figure out why, since I wasn't screaming today during the school's "Phillies Pep Rally" OR during the Cub Scout meeting. I'm hoping my cup of Celestial Seasonings Mandarin Orange Zinger tea will help. (It certainly can't hurt.) And if I don't have a voice tomorrow, I won't be able to do more than glare at the dentist if she has anything more to say that ticks me off.

Maybe I should just go to one of those dentists that knocks you out and does all the work at once while you snooze. I could probably live with that.

Speaking of snoozing, I should go do that too.

Book Review: Dressing with Dignity by Colleen Hammond

Dressing with Dignity by Colleen Hammond is a challenge to women to dress modestly and in a feminine manner.

Hammond's basic premise is that modest yet attractive dress is not an impossibility. Furthermore, our culture encourages women to dress in immodest ways. And as any parent and teacher knows, we act according to our dress--and others respond to us according to our dress. My experience certainly bears that out. Just go to any school where uniforms are normally worn on two different days: a uniform day, and a day on which students are allowed to wear "regular" clothes. Note the difference in behavior. It will be dramatic.

Just as students behave according to their dress (and do better in school when they are dressed for the job) so do the rest of us. Hammond asserts that dressing in attractive and dignified ways will help women feel better about themselves and help them be treated better. In addition, it also shows a greater respect for God.

I agree with all of these points. I do not like to dress in skimpy clothes that don't provide enough coverage, or clothes that are too tight. And my kids have learned that, just as they have "school clothes," they also have "church clothes." In our family, we don't wear jeans to church. We don't wear our Phillies T-shirts, and we don't wear shorts. For church, we make the effort to dress at least as nicely as we would if we were going to work (for the grownups).

However, I can't buy into Hammond's idea that pants or trousers are inappropriate for women. I do not agree that all pants or trousers are automatically immodest. While Hammond's book is well-written and thoroughly researched, she hasn't convinced this reader to move beyond what I already feel is a very conservative manner of dress.

This review was written as part of The Catholic Company product reviewer program. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on Dressing With Dignity. I received a review copy of this book, but no other compensation, for the purposes of this review.

Young Cynic

"Have a good day," I told Middle Sister as she gathered up her school things and headed out to catch the bus.

"No chance," she shot back.

Nothing like a little optimism with your morning coffee.

My Not-so-Humble Musical Opinion

The musicians at church have received our copies of the new Breaking Bread for 2010.

It's a rare occasion when I get to pick the music for a Sunday Mass. But that doesn't mean that I don't have an opinion. Having volunteered as a church musician since 1981 (except for my 3 "maternity breaks"), I've had plenty of time to cultivate my opinion about the music.

• Some of my opinions are theological. I'm not a fan of the songs that make us "sing the words of Jesus" even though they may be musically beautiful and Biblically-based. However, I think those songs definitely have a place, but not for congregational or even choral singing. And many of them are beautiful, as I've said--musically and lyrically.
  
• Some of my opinions are musical. I don't care for the kinds of songs that sound more like show tunes than hymns.
• Some of my opinions are editorial--there are songs out there that are just plain bad poetry.
• Some of my opinions are nostalgic. It drives me nuts when the lyrics to a perfectly good song get changed because they are no longer "PC"--for example, the masculine pronouns are used for God. (Oh, the horror!)
• And some of my opinions are based upon exhaustion, because there are songs that have been so overused that I simply cannot stand to have to hear them again, let alone sing and play them.
  

So here's my list, based on the 2010 Breaking Bread, of songs I'd rather not have to sing during the coming liturgical year. I've only included songs I know. If I don't know the song, no matter how bad it may be, it's not going to be on my list.

Let the Valleys Be Raised (Schutte)--this one was wonderful before they changed the words to be PC.
Ashes (Conry)--ick.
Beyond the Days (Manalo)--belongs on Broadway, not in church.
In These Days of Lenten Journey (Manalo)--could we get any more self-congratulatory than these lyrics?
Resucito (Arguello)--fortunately, the music director who had us singing this has moved on. We're not a Spanish-speaking parish, so there's no need to sing in that language. And the translation is terrible. The English and Spanish verses have little to do with each other, and neither one is good poetry.
Gather Us In (Haugen)--this one is bad on so many levels.
Gather The People (Schutte)--it's not very original; many of his songs have the same theme. He's been very big on "inclusion" lately. And that last line of each verse: "Here we become what we eat"--I get what he means, but there has to be a better way to say that.
Song of the Body of Christ (Haas)--whiny melody, and bad poetry. Not a good combo.
I Am the Bread of Life (Toolan)--if I never have to sing this one again, it'll be too soon. Every time I'm told that we'll be singing it, my response is "Kill me now."
Pan de Vida (Hurd)--again, we don't speak Spanish here (but I do, and the translation is horrible). I don't switch well between languages, so it drives me crazy that the refrain is half English, half Spanish.
That There May Be Bread (Weston Priory)--along with just about all the Weston Priory songs, the lyrics are bizarre. Nice words that really say nothing.
The Summons (Bell)--first-person singular.
Servant Song (McCargill)--I like the sentiment, but not the lyrics, and not the melody.
Here I Am, Lord (Schutte)--first-person singular.
All Are Welcome (Haugen)--this is not a bad song in itself, but it has a bad association for me. It was sung at a special Mass where we said goodbye to the Sisters who had been told by the pastor that they needed to relocate because we could no longer afford to keep the convent open. All are Welcome--but don't let the door hit you on your way out.
Sing a New Church (Dufner)--don't get me started.
Endless is Your Love (Kendzia)--sounds like something the leading lady sings when she's alone on the stage. To her boyfriend.
You Are Near (Schutte)--this was fine until they took out the "Yahweh." I understand that we want to be sensitive to other faiths...but it's hard to rethink lyrics I've known since the '70s.
The Spirit is a-Movin' (Landry)
Come to Me (Weston Priory)--first-person singular.
You Are Mine (Haas)--first-person singular.
The Lord Is My Hope (Ridge)--more Broadway stuff.
We Have Been Told (Haas)--first-person singular.
Anthem (Conry)--FUN to play. I love playing it. But the lyrics are STRANGE!
We Are the Light of the World (Greif)--kill me now.
Sing to the Mountains (Dufford)--it was great before they made it PC.
Lift Up Your Hearts (O'Connor)--same thing.
Sing a New Song (Schutte)--this is no longer a new song. Let it go.
Speak, Lord (Uszler)--the refrain is great but the verses are a little off. You can tell that some of the verses were by a different lyricist.
They'll Know We Are Christians (Scholtes)--overdone.
Join in the Dance (Schutte)--I especially can't stand verse 2.
Isaiah 49 (Landry)--first-person singular.
Seek the Lord (O'Connor)--they've got the PC and the original versions here. How are you supposed to announce to the assembly that you'll be singing one version or the other? "We'll do the ORIGINAL verses, you know--the ones that offend a certain population because a masculine pronoun is used in reference to God." Yeah. That'll work.
Turn to Me (Foley)--first-person singular.

So there you go.

N.J. Ink

Little Brother just got home from a friend's birthday party. In his treat bag were some temporary tattoos.

"I got nine tattoos, Mom!"

"That's cool. Doesn't your school have a policy against ink, though?"

"Yeah. I'm going to have to save them until the end of the school year."

Worth Reading

Catholic novelist Katherine Valentine is sharing her newest novel, one chapter at a time, over at Catholicmom.com!

I've read her whole Dorsetville series and they're really good! The characters are very real, the writing is good, and the situations are believable. Best of all, the characters' faith comes shining through.

The only drawback to the whole "share a novel in serial format" is that I'll have to wait a whole week to read the next installment! I kind of feel like the people in the 19th century who eagerly awaited the next Dickens chapter when his novels were published in newspapers. It worked out well for him; I hope the same for Katherine Valentine.

Stop by Catholicmom.com and give her new novel a try! You don't have to have read her other books first--but I'll bet you'll want to, once you read this.

Where does the time go?

Collages of family pictures hang in my stairway, dining room and family room. I'm a few years behind on compiling these, because I've run out of walls to hang them on!

Every night when we have dinner in the dining room, I look around at the pictures on that wall. In those, Big Brother was between the ages of 5 and 9; Middle Sister was a toddler, then a preschooler; Little Brother wasn't even born yet. I look at those pictures, and then I look at my kids. Big Brother is a high-school senior and I've spent the past four weekends touring colleges with him. Middle Sister and TheDad have gone off to an Open House at Big Brother's high school today. Next month she takes the placement test. And Little Brother, not to be left out in everyone else's Year of Big Steps, will receive two sacraments this school year.

Watching my kids grow up doesn't make me mourn for those baby-and-toddler days, though I do miss the funny mispronunciations and toothless grins. (Good thing I still have Little Brother around for that!) They're growing up, and I can't do a thing about it except worry a little, pray a lot, and try to enjoy the ride.

I Confess

There are an awful lot of books I start but don't finish.

In fact, there are an awful lot of books I start, never intending to finish them!

This may sound like heresy coming from this English major, but in my defense, the books that I check out of the library and only intend to taste, rather than devour, are all of the non-fiction persuasion. Never one to specialize, I've started books on all kinds of subjects from architecture to marketing to parenting to education to cooking to homemaking and more. I like to know a little about a lot of things--and when a title inspires a little curiosity in me, I pick up the book and read a bit, here and there. When I find out what I want to know (or when I find out that the book isn't going to tell me what I want to know) then I'm done with the book.

Books I don't finish don't make it onto my Book List, but that certainly doesn't mean I didn't get anything out of them.

Bad Connection

Every Thursday afternoon I volunteer in the school library. I help out with the first grade, then the kindergarten, and then I do some other library tasks such as entering new books into the computer catalog, straightening books on the shelves, or whatever the librarian needs done. I enjoy it, and I like seeing the kids.

Yesterday the librarian needed to speak to another teacher between the first-grade class and the kindergarten class. So I greeted the incoming kindergartners, got them settled down in the story area, and we waited for the librarian to return.

While we waited, the kids asked lots of questions, because after all, that's what little kids do best.

"Mrs. (mumbled, mangled version of my last name), do you know Little Brother?"

"Yes," I smiled. I was kind of amazed that they knew Little Brother's last name and that they'd made the connection.

"Are you his grandmother?"

Way to make me feel old, kid!

Question of the Day

From Little Brother, as he took a cupcake from the tray: "Does this count as my dessert?"

(Are you kidding? Yes, it's your dessert.)

He was horrified to hear this. I don't know what he thought I was going to feed him later, but I'm all out of baked Alaska.

Practical or Lazy? Maybe Both!

So, now that we've hit the very real probability of winter weather in October (including the back-to-back Nor'easters that have all the tv weather-folk salivating), this mom wonders: if a 7-year-old boy is going to wear a hat to school anyway, is there any point in trying to hold him down long enough in the morning to neatly comb his hair?

Mis-Abbreviation

I love little kids' mispronunciations of things, and I do mourn the day when they finally learn to say things properly. I grieve the loss of the cuteness!

This morning Little Brother is reading the label of the Ovaltine jar on the table. Why? Because it's there. So I am getting the rundown of exactly how many "minnagrams" of fat, sodium and sugar are in Ovaltine.

Note to My Son's High School

Please refrain from using the "Emergency Broadcast System" every single night (including weekends) to remind my child to bring in magazine-sale fundraiser stuff. That hardly constitutes an "emergency."

From Today's Homily

At daily Mass today, our pastor spoke about Jesus' response to the Pharisees who cared more about whether hands, feet, and dishes were properly washed, than their guests themselves.

He concluded, "As Christians, it is our responsibility to treat everyone with compassion and love, no matter how they act."

Things I Love About Autumn

• The changing colors of the leaves
• Pumpkin spice lattes
• Crisp apples
• Sweater weather
• Halloween fun
• A nice warm towel after a shower, because the towel hooks are located directly over the heating vent
  

Shaking My Head in Disbelief

The President of the United States has won the Nobel Peace Prize, due, apparently, to his "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples." (emphasis mine)

All you have to do to win a Nobel Prize is make an effort? You have to do more than that to become an Eagle Scout.

Nobel-Prize nominations are due February 1, only a few short days after the U.S. Presidential Inauguration. He couldn't possibly have done that much worthy of such an honor in that short a time span.

Why not wait until he has been in office a few years and then see if his accomplishments, rather than his efforts, merit this award?

Look! We Match!

Here's Little Brother, showing off his jack-o-lantern smile. He's got the same look as the pumpkin toy he won at the church festival this weekend.

It's looking good that he'll still be toothless on Picture Day. I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

A Note to My Plumber

As a parent and a former teacher, I completely understand and support the ideas of "learn by doing" and "keep trying until you get it right." After all, that's how you learn.

But as your customer, I'm tired of being inconvenienced.

Your helper has been here twice to fix the dripping connection under my bathroom sink after he installed it a week ago. You might want him to learn to fix his own mistakes, but I want to be able to put the toilet paper and Comet back under the sink where they belong (instead of in the hallway outside the powder room).

I haven't yelled and screamed at the kid. (Yes, he's a kid. I think he might have started shaving just last week. He probably just graduated from Vo-Tech.) I've just shown him how, 20 minutes after you run the water in that sink, you find a little puddle in the bottom of the vanity.

He keeps trying to fix it, and thinking he's done that. Then he leaves, and a little while later I find water under there again.

It's time to stop sending the helper.

Lesson Learned

Little Brother is now painfully aware that it's a bad idea to jump with a bowl of Nerds candy in your hands.

To his credit, he made a valiant attempt to sweep up the mess, but the candies kept rolling back out of the dustpan.

Well-Timed

There's nothing cuter than an elementary-school kid missing a few teeth and smiling wide.

Little Brother looks like a hockey player right now; last night he lost one of his top front teeth, and a few weeks ago he pulled out a lower tooth. We suggested that he go as a jack-o-lantern for Halloween.

In a couple of weeks, it will be Picture Day at his school, so his gap-toothed smile will be immortalized on film. I told him to make sure he smiles big. I love those goofy, missing-tooth smiles. There's a picture of Big Brother missing the exact same tooth, and it's a good thing that Middle Sister is also in the picture, or we wouldn't be able to tell which brother it is!

I think I'll have to take that Christmas-card picture now, so I can be sure to capture Little Brother's cute and funny smile.

Table Manners R Us

Overheard in my dining room:

"Big Brother, get Little Brother a fork, please."

"No! Get me TWO forks!"

"You don't even eat with ONE fork. What do you think you're going to do with TWO?"

She's nothing if not contradictory

The same child who doesn't think that a long-term project constitutes "homework" casually mentioned to me today:

"I've got to start thinking of April Fool's Day pranks. I like to plan ahead."

Define "Homework"

Every day, Middle Sister comes home from school and I ask about homework. Usually she has some; not too much. She gets it done and packs it up. So, I think, it's all good.

Today she was hunting for poster paper, an old magazine, and some glue for a "project" she had to do for one class. It was a kind of scavenger hunt--she had to cut out representations of certain terms. I told her where to find the items she needed, and she headed up to her room to turn on some music and get to work.

Three hours later, she finished her "project." Then she complained that it had taken her three hours.

"Um, how long have you known about this assignment?" I wondered. "Did your teacher just assign this today?"

"No, she told us about it two weeks ago," she answered.

"But every day I ask you about homework, and some days you tell me you don't have any. You could have been working on this."

"This wasn't homework. This was a project!"

Collect 'em All!

Little Brother is in second grade this year, and he's excited because he'll be receiving two sacraments for the first time. This morning he asked me a little bit about Reconciliation, which he seemed fine with once he discovered that no one else will hear him talking and praying with Father. Then he listed all the sacraments he knows of. He could name 5 so far, only leaving out Marriage and Holy Orders. So I told him about those two.

"Then I'm gonna have to be a priest," he told me. "That way I can have all 7."

"Well, no," I answered. "Priests can't have the sacrament of Marriage. But deacons can, and deacons also have the sacrament of Holy Orders."

"I'll be a deacon, then," he declared.

We Must Remember This

"In all things we must respond with love. And to respond with love in hard times, we must ask our Lord for grace."
--Father Kevin Russeau of Campus Ministry at the University of Notre Dame, quoted in What Happened to Notre Dame? by Dr. Charles E. Rice.

Multitasking as Rudeness

We're all tempted to multitask. As moms, many of us multitask almost constantly--we have to.

But there are times when it's just plain rude to do that.

Over the past two weekends, I have taken Big Brother to visit two universities that he's thinking of attending next year. We've taken campus tours; we've sat through presentations; we've checked out the curriculum fairs.

When short people like me don't wind up in or near the front row during a presentation, we can't always see the speaker or TV screen well. Sometimes our eyes wander in other directions while our ears listen to the speech. And when our eyes wander, we observe some colossally rude behavior.

Cell phone users, of course, were among the most obvious offenders. I've sat behind kids sending texts (and showing their neighbors the responses they got) and parents typing with their thumbs on Blackberries.

During an overly-long class on financial aid today, the woman in front of me took some hand lotion from her purse. I smelled this before I saw it (I'm extremely fragrance-sensitive.) After putting it on her hands and giving some to her daughter, she slipped off her shoes and put it on her feet as well.

In all charity, I don't think that any of the people who did these things intended to be rude. They were just not thinking. Which leads me to wonder: how many times have I been unintentionally rude to someone, just because I wasn't thinking?

What I Need Right Now

I crave routine. I really need it, and I miss it.

The lack of routine is what drives me crazy about summer vacation. That, and the lack of quiet. I need a good deal of both of those in order to keep my sanity about me.

This school year, I haven't managed to get the routine working yet. The kids have been in school 2 1/2 weeks and things have just not calmed down. Every so often, the non-routine of my days gets to me and I have a meltdown moment.

I'm wondering if this is all a reminder to me that when I put others' needs ahead of my need for routine, the whole world will not come crashing down around me. The dishes might not get done until 10 PM. The ironing will be pushed back another day...and another day...and maybe even another. (And my ironing will be pushed away completely, since I'm wearing sweatshirts on these cooler days, so no one can tell if I ironed my t-shirt!)

So maybe, those times when my routine is interrupted by the needs of those I love and care for, I can work in a new routine, and offer that interruption for the intention of the one who needs me most right then.

Don't Rush It!

It's that time of year again. The "Be A Scout!" signs are all over town with our phone number written on them, and I'm taking random calls several times a day from people interested in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts and even Toddler Scouts.

For the record, Toddler Scouts does not exist.

And we don't have any Girl Scouts here. I don't have the Girl Scouts' phone number. All the children on the "Be A Scout!" signs are BOYS.

(Note to the National Boy Scout Council: It would be really great if you'd spring for the extra ink needed to print "Be A Cub Scout!" on your Cub Scout recruiting signs. That would save all of us moms who answer phone calls a whole lot of trouble.)

I'm used to moms of kindergartners asking if the Cub Scouts has a program for their boys, since the Girl Scouts has created the Daisy program for five-year-old girls. But today's phone call takes the cake.

A mom called, saying, "I got this number from the Scout sign and I was wondering if my son is old enough for Scouts yet."

"How old is your son?" I asked. "Cub Scouts begins with first-graders, in our Tiger Scout program."

In a disappointed tone, she answered, "He's three and a half."

Picking up my chin off the floor, I told her, "We don't have anything for boys that age. We'll be happy to see him when he's in first grade, though."

I wish I'd kept her on the phone and told her not to rush things with her little boy. I wouldn't have been sarcastic, saying things like "Cub Scouts don't wear Pull-Ups." But a three-year-old is so young. He doesn't need structured group activities like Cub Scouts yet. He needs time to dig in the sandbox and push Tonka Trucks around and dance silly dances to '80s tunes and run around and kick beach balls and build with Legos and color with crayons and learn to eat with a fork. (OK, Little Brother still needs to work on that last skill. But you get the idea.)

I feel kind of sad for this mom and her little boy. It's not that I don't think Cub Scouts would be good for him. I'm a firm believer in just how good Cub Scouting (and Boy Scouting) can be for a boy. But I'm also a firm believer in not overcommitting children, especially very little children. When Big Brother (my Eagle Scout) was three and a half, he wasn't even in pre-K yet. So far, his lack of a full slate of early-childhood activities has not seemed to have any ill effects upon his intellect, achievement, or ability to make friends.

I wish I'd told this mom to let her little boy enjoy being three and a half. There's plenty of time for Cub Scouts later.

Proof

...that Big Brother, who has had his driver's license for a full 8 days now, isn't in danger of getting any speeding tickets:

This morning I picked up the plastic-bagged newspaper off the wet front lawn, and put it down on the trunk of Big Brother's car while I chatted with a neighbor. I walked inside without the paper and didn't think about it again until Big Brother was long gone, on his way to school.

He made it more than half a mile to the jughandle, where he stopped for a red light and the driver behind him got out of her car, picked up the paper off his trunk and handed it to him.

I know he's not flying around the corners, or the paper would have sailed off by that point.

I'm thinking that this knowledge was well worth the 75 cents for the replacement paper that TheDad bought me.

With Apologies to Laura Numeroff

I'm living one of those "If You Give a Mouse A Cookie" stories.

We have thermal drapes in the family room, hanging on the dreaded Tranverse Rods--the kind of curtain rods that have this little rope pull, and if you yank the rope in the right direction, the curtains open (or close.)

If you yank the rope too hard, the little plastic thingies that attach to the back of the curtain rod break off and fly across the room. Pretty soon your drapes aren't hanging on by much.

So I went to the store to get replacement plastic thingies. I admit that I was hoping that I couldn't find them. This way I could justify spending my whole freelance-writing paycheck on a new curtain rod and ring clips for my drapes. Unfortunately, I found the plastic thingies. I bought 3 dozen (this window is about 12 feet across, so there are a lot of hooks for the drapes.)

So, with my apologies to Laura Numeroff, here is my story.

If you buy replacement plastic thingies for your curtain rod, you'll have to take the curtain rod off the brackets to install them.

As you take the curtain rod down from the brackets, you will drop a screw. It will fall behind the couch.

After you move the couch to retrieve the dropped hardware, you will notice that the sheer curtains between the drapes and the windows are awfully dusty. You will decide that as long as you've got the drapes down anyway, you might as well wash the sheers.

When you put the curtains in the washing machine, it's not a full load. So you will go back upstairs and take down the living-room sheers as well, and put them in the washing machine.

Heading back to the drapes, you will decide that you can't hang dusty drapes over clean sheers. You will remove all the pointy metal hooks so you can wash the drapes next.

As you remove the pointy metal hooks, you will poke your finger. You will need a Band-Aid. Then you will notice that some of the pointy metal hooks are missing. You will remember that you had spare hooks from the last time you took down the drapes.

(You will try not to think about how long it has been since you took down the drapes.)

You will rummage around in your "spare parts" stashes in the basement. You will knock a package of light bulbs behind the water heater. You will remember that you have more light bulbs that you just got at Shop Rite and need to put away.

After you find the bag of spare pointy metal hooks, you will put all the other pointy metal hooks in the same bag. You will gather up all the drapes, which no longer have pointy metal hooks stuck to them, and put them next to the washing machine.

Then you will sit down to install the new replacement plastic thingies. You will find that they slide in easily from the end of the drapery rod. You will also find that they get caught on the remnants of the old plastic thingies that broke off when someone yanked the rope too hard.

You will try various tools in an attempt to remove the pieces of the old plastic thingies. Nothing will fit. You will go hunting for your Swiss Army Knife, which you took out of your purse before you went on vacation, because you didn't think it would pass through security.

And finally, you will finish installing the new plastic thingies, put the drapery rod back up, hang the clean sheers, stick the pointy metal clips into the clean drapes, and put the drapes back on the rod.

And you will curse the day that you chose such terrible window treatments.

Half-Size

Little Brother, at seven, is at that "in-between" stage where clothes labeled SMALL are too small, while clothes labeled MEDIUM are too big.

His closet and drawers are overloaded, because he's got some of each size going on in there as he makes the transition to a bigger size.

Over the summer, when I stocked up on school uniforms, I bought him a new sweater. Compared to his old SMALL one, the MEDIUM looked gigantic. But this morning he needed his sweater, and the sleeves on the SMALL didn't make it to his wrists anymore.

He struggled into his oversize MEDIUM sweater, with sleeves that pass his fingertips and a hem that hangs below his butt, and told me, "Mom, you should have got me a small and a half!"

He Doesn't Have One, And Never Will

Little Brother has Spanish homework tonight. He came over here asking me how to spell my maiden name, and then said he had to write down TheDad's maiden name as well.

"Daddy doesn't have a maiden name," I said, confused about what he was trying to do. What are they teaching him in school?

"Oh, then I know what to do," he answered. "I'll write my first name, middle name, your maiden name and then our last name."

Now I get it. They're writing their names the Latin-American way.

That's a relief.

Come to the Quiet

I don't think I have ever said that this house is too quiet.

Quiet is the thing I like most about my kids being back to school. The only one making noise in the house is me (and the washing machine, which pretty much hums nonstop around here, but I barely notice that.)

Other than listening to The Catholics Next Door on satellite radio, I rarely have any radio, TV or music on during the school day when I'm not out running errands. It's just me and my quiet. (I do talk to myself sometimes. It's good that there's no one else here to hear me and think I'm nuts.)

I really do need and appreciate that quiet. When the kids were younger, TheDad used to send me out of the house for some "bookstore time" so I could recharge my batteries a bit. That was always welcomed and wonderful, but the music in the store--someone else's choice of music--just became another source of noise pollution in my world. I'd find myself hurrying out of there to get away from it.

It's good--really good--to get away from all the noise that surrounds you everywhere. It's good to be home, in the quiet, where nothing's louder than the washing machine, the crickets and the sparrows.

Things Parents Say

"Little Brother, don't pull out any more loose teeth right now. Just eat your breakfast."

When he sits still

...you know something's not quite right.

Little Brother and TheDad didn't get their usual seat in church today. Instead, they sat in a different pew where I could actually see them (normally my view is blocked by the altar and pulpit.) During the homily, Little Brother was hanging all over TheDad. This is not abnormal in itself, but usually Little Brother is much more wiggly. This time he was just sort of hanging there. Big Brother noticed it too, and whispered to me that Little Brother looked really tired. I wondered if his cheeks were also flushed, or if it was just shadows from the lighting.

But as the afternoon has worn on, it's becoming clear that Little Brother is just not feeling quite right. He's alternated between playing (somewhat crabbily) and lying around. He felt a little warm earlier but didn't have a fever, and now is complaining of a headache. After he hung all over me for a little while, he got himself up and went outside to play basketball with Middle Sister. That lasted a whole five minutes before he came in complaining that she's being mean, and hit the couch again.

I guess I'll be breaking my "no shopping on Sunday" rule, because we're almost out of milk, and tomorrow I might have a kid home sick from school.

UPDATE: Well, whatever it was, it has come and gone. Little Brother had a fever last evening but he woke up feeling "ok." I kept him home anyway and by midafternoon practically had to SIT on him to keep him quiet. So he's all set and ready to go back to school tomorrow.

Mourning

At first, it was anger. How could this happen?

Only later did the regret come, for the words not said, the opportunities missed.

"While we have time, let us do good." But had we?

And what good can come from mourning those unsaid words, those missed opportunities?

Power to the People

This evening as I laboriously covered Middle Sister's workbooks in contact paper (per her teachers' requirements) I received a phone call from some political survey. They had a captive audience in me at that moment.

I answered the usual questions like "if the election would be held tomorrow, would you vote for the incumbent or the challenger" in the race for governor of my state. I rated my trust level of the various candidates on certain issues on a scale from 0 to 100. For the record, nobody got 100 on anything.

And then I was asked a question that quite surprised me: had my labor union contacted me and encouraged me to vote for one candidate or the other?

"I'm a homemaker," I replied. "I don't belong to a labor union. And if I did, I wouldn't let their opinion of how I should vote influence my vote."

After I got off the phone, I started wondering what it would be like if homemakers did have a labor union. It's not like we get paid or anything (not in money, anyway.) What kind of circumstances or events would inspire the Homemakers' Union to stage a strike?

Interesting...

Curb Appeal

Dropping Middle Sister off at a friend's house just now, I passed a very lovely-looking house for sale. It looked great, until you checked out what was parked in front: a decrepit dark-brown hearse with "666" painted on the tailgate and "Serial Killer" on the driver's side doors.

Makes you wonder if they want to scare buyers off, or intrigue the curious.

The Ultimate in Awesomeness

I just picked up Little Brother at a friend's house. On the way home, he raved about how his friend's mom had brought a thermos of lemonade to the park for the kids.

"Sounds really good," I commented.

"It was," he sighed. "My friend's family is awesome!"

And it's as easy as lemonade. Who knew?

I'm not talking football

Well, OK, I'll talk football for a minute. Because I could never give up my Irish football. But that's not what I'm really talking about.

I've written before about my dismay that my alma mater invited President Obama to speak, and to be honored, at this year's Commencement.

As I said, that won't impact my enjoyment of football games. But it does impact my opinion of the University. It impacts the guidance that I give to my own college-bound child.

Notre Dame's invitation to President Obama is not an isolated incident in the University's history. Instead, it is the culmination of thirty years or more of accumulated activity, at Notre Dame and other colleges. I saw some of this for myself twenty-one years ago when I was a student there (but let's not dwell on the length of time that has elapsed since I received my degree). The rest is detailed in Notre Dame professor emeritus Charles E. Rice's book, What Happened to Notre Dame? Newly published by St. Augustine's Press, the book also demonstrates that what has gone on at Notre Dame is symptomatic of events at other religious institutions of higher learning.

I recently received a review copy of this book and, though I've only just begun reading it, I'm finding it fascinating and disturbing. I'll definitely be discussing this book in more detail as I finish reading it. But I can tell you right now that if your interest in Notre Dame is not limited to its football team, you might want to pick up this book.