Growth Curve

During the past two weeks I've been rehearsing for Sunday's performance of Marty Haugen's Song of Mark, a musical production based on the Gospel of Mark, with a group of musicians and singers that I don't ordinarily work with. It's been a wonderful and interesting experience.

Playing with a new group is always a challenge, and that's good, because when you play with the same people week after week, you start to know what to expect. It takes playing with different people to make a musician grow.

I'm not an excellent musician by any stretch of the imagination. Once I was out of college, I haven't been in a position where I could play my guitar every day. It was more like one or two times per week. That's not conducive to growing as a musician either. And while I had enough basic piano lessons to know how to read music, I'm a self-taught guitarist. The director of this production teaches music and can play just about any instrument. Frankly, if she weren't so nice, I'd be really intimidated.

It's nice being a part of a musical production with my kids. All 3 are taking part. Big Brother is playing electric bass, and Middle Sister and Little Brother are both in the children's chorus. Since there are only about 20 in the entire cast and orchestra, we make up 1/5 of the people involved in this event.

All the music is new to me, and Haugen's music is always a challenge. One of the other guitarists from my Sunday folk group observed that Haugen must hate guitarists when I showed her some of the music, written in tortuous keys and including chords like E-flat, Gm, and the like.  Many of the songs are 6 or 8 pages long, so I also had to learn to work in page turns!

I have loved the opportunity to go and play for almost two solid hours at a time--though my arms are really feeling it.  I'm playing along with a pianist, a keyboard, and Big Brother on the bass.  With only one guitar, I don't have much room for error.  That's a challenge too.

I think the challenge is good for me.  And certainly playing is good for me.  And some of the songs are really, really good.  Here's the refrain from my favorite one:

When the day of our God has come to pass,
The skies will ring out with the angels' song.
The last will be first and the first will be last
When the day of our God comes,
The wondrous day of our God.

That's been stuck in my head for days--and there's nothing wrong with that.

Storytime Ooops!

One of my favorite parts about helping in the school library is storytime. Because the kindergarten and first grade only get 45 minutes to divide between library and computer class, we don't get to have storytime every week.

Today, though, the librarian was helping to chaperone the 8th grade trip, and I was flying solo in the library. The lesson plan she left for me included storytime for both of the primary-grade classes I'd see. Bonus: I got to pick the story!

The first-graders had let us know earlier this year that they are big fans of Tomie dePaola. Me too--I've enjoyed his picture books since the time I used to read them to Big Brother. So I went to the bookshelf and chose one of Big Brother's favorites: Tom.

In this story, a little boy's grandfather shows his mischievous side, giving Tommy two chicken feet. Tommy takes them to school and uses them to scare his classmates--and a teacher.

We were just getting to the good part when the first-grade teacher walked into the library to collect her students. And there I was, reading all about how this little boy caused a little playground mayhem with a couple of chicken feet.

So...what do you think the odds are that I'll be asked to substitute again?

Oddest Memorial Day Ever

It began normally enough. We woke up and got ready to attend the Memorial Day parade in the next town. Big Brother and Middle Sister were helping the Boy Scouts, who cook and serve hot dogs (888 this year!) and cold beverages to all who march and attend the parade. TheDad and Little Brother were marching with the Cub Scouts. I was the only one in the family who actually watched the parade this year.

And that part was weird. I didn't have Middle Sister to people-watch with, and parades are almost as good as carnivals in drawing out some pretty strange people. Homeless-looking old men who picked up candy that was tossed in the street--and handed it to nearby children. Women "of a certain age" who still shop at stores like Forever 21. Other women (older than "a certain age") who go for the star-spangled look: full red, white, and blue glitter from head to toe. And quite a few pit bulls. I didn't have Little Brother to clap along to the bands and beg me to buy him a pretzel/water/balloon/flag/pop gun/Silly String/noisemaker/all of the above. Hope springs eternal with that one: we bring our own snacks and drinks and I never buy the junk.

After the parade, we came home and a bunch of Little Brother's friends came over here to swim. I was in the middle of the laundry stream, and found that the utility sink was half-full of water and it wasn't draining at all. I finally forced TheDad out of the pool to try to snake out the drain.

He concluded that we had to call a professional.

We waited 3 hours for the professional to not show up or call back, and then we called a different professional who got here in 30 minutes, took care of the problem, and required a nice fat check from us because plumbers on Memorial Day are expensive.

I began admiring my Parade Tan, which consists of sunburn on 1 1/2 knees.

Meanwhile I took Middle Sister and Little Brother to rehearsal for "Song of Mark" at church (they're in the children's chorus, I'm accompanying on guitar) and Big Brother's friends came over to swim and eat.

We ran the whole show in a non-air-conditioned church and then I came home to the dishes that had piled up all day because I wasn't able to do any dishes since we couldn't use the water.

Now there are 7 college students trying to play Guitar Hero quietly because Little Brother is sleeping. Good luck with that.

Big Brother bought a lemon meringue pie to feed his friends. I think I'll go have a nice big slice.

Dead Giveaway

I was all over this article on home organization at BHG.com (Better Homes & Gardens) until I got to page 7: the Living Room Art Station.

So what's wrong with this picture?

Parents will see the problem immediately.

White carpet. Paint on a low, accessible-to-toddlers shelf. Presumably there is a playroom or family room somewhere else in the house. I'm sure there must be a kitchen somewhere--one that doesn't have a white carpet.

Clearly the people who came up with this brilliant idea have never spent any time with small children. (To her credit, Middle Sister saw the trouble with this room instantly.)

Image credit: BHG.com

Spot On

As always, the Zits comic nails life with a teenage boy.

He returned home from college 3 weeks ago. Last night he asked me if I'd seen a certain item of clothing. I hadn't. He said he knew he'd brought it home from school...I suggested it might be in his footlocker.

He replied, "Didn't you empty that out?"

Uh...NO.

Still-unpacked bags and crates of class notes litter his room and beyond. I imagine it'll stay that way until August 19 if I let it (he returns to school on the 20th.)

Time to crack down. He's a good kid--a real good kid. But he's definitely got a clutter problem.

Long summer ahead!

With a swimming pool comes great responsibility. As I type this, there are 6 kids in the pool. Only one of them lives here. The more time they spend in the pool, the more time I need to be outside on the porch. I am a terrible swimmer and have gone two years without even putting on a bathing suit, but I have to be the combination lifeguard, peacekeeper, referee, towel police, and monitor of four-letter-words.

The Street Urchins and Little Brother were surprised today when I informed them that baseballs are not pool toys.

It's going to take something stronger than a caramel latte to get me through these summer days.

In Case of Rapture, We're Planning a Sleepover

Big Brother just finished telling Little Brother and Adventure Boy all about the Rapture that's scheduled to happen just before 6 PM Eastern, according to Harold Camping of Family Radio. The boys considered the possibilities.

Little Brother (to Adventure Boy): Sleeping over tonight?

Adventure Boy: YEAH!...oh wait, there's not gonna BE a tonight.

Little Brother: You can just stay here for the rest of your life.

Base Hit

Little Brother just emptied his schoolbag and brought his lunch box to the kitchen. Then he came out here to show me the plastic container that I used to pack his sandwich this morning. (Containers prevent sandwiches from getting squished, and I also don't have to buy so many sandwich bags this way).

The container was shattered all along the back.

"What did you do to your lunchbox, jump on it?" I asked.

"No...it was home plate."

Dare Not to Compare

On Wednesdays, Little Brother's class has gym Phys Ed. The kids in his school wear gym clothes to school all day on their gym days. It gives me a nice little buffer zone to get his regular uniforms all clean and ready for the rest of the week.

Last Wednesday, though, Little Brother's class had a field trip, and they were required to wear "dress" uniforms. That threw off my whole routine--and I woke up Thursday morning only to realize that there were no clean uniforms for Little Brother that day.

Little Brother is nine years old. There is no such thing as a "gently used" uniform when it comes to nine-year-old boys. So re-wearing the previous day's clothes was completely out of the question. He leaves the house in the morning looking reasonably neat and returns looking like Pigpen from Peanuts.

He told me that kids have just worn their gym clothes to school in that situation, and their moms write a note to the teacher. So that's what I did. When he came home, I asked what his teacher had said. He said she laughed--which is about what I figured would happen.

This morning I saw his teacher when I was on my way in to school to volunteer. She told me that it made her day to get that note, because she doesn't always have it together, and it was a relief to know that some other mom didn't have it together all the time either.

I was rather shocked that she thinks I have things even close to all together. And then I realized that I always thought she did. I've known this teacher for 8 or 9 years, as two of our older children have been in the same class.

We see the surface of other people's lives, and that little bit that we show to other people is only the tip of our own personal iceberg. Yet we compare ourselves, basing our self-esteem on what little we see of what someone else is, has, and does. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence; the other line always moves faster.

And then it becomes a great relief to see that someone else is human too; that they are in the very same boat we are; that we all get behind on the laundry sometimes.

Wouldn't it be a great gift to ourselves if we'd just dare NOT to compare once in a while? Wouldn't it be a great gift to those to whom we are comparing ourselves, as well? After all, they're probably behind on laundry, and that's OK.

Wishful Thinking

Little Brother just headed down to the basement, where we have our pantry bomb shelter.

"Mommy?"  I heard his muffled voice call from downstairs.

"What?"

"Where are the goldfish?"

"What goldfish?"

"The goldfish you bought at ShopRite."

"I didn't buy any goldfish..."

"The chocolate goldfish!!"

"I didn't buy any chocolate ones either!"

This Kid Needs a Village

TheDad is not fond of the expression "it takes a village to raise a child."  To him, it represents the invasion of government into a family's life and structure.

But when it comes right down to it, TheDad exemplifies the expression when you think of it as meaning that friends and neighbors have an influence, even a vital role, in a child's life and upbringing.

Adventure Boy has been having a rough time lately.  And while we don't see as much of him now that he's 9 and involved in sports--and there are other boys on the block now, so we're not the only game in town--indications are still strong that he sees us as part of his family.

We're his God-family.  TheDad and I are his godparents, and he calls Little Brother his God-brother.

In the past couple of days, we learned just how much it meant to him when TheDad used to bring Adventure Boy to church.  That pretty much fell off when our parish started holding CCD (oops, Faith Formation) on Sundays--including a Mass--so he hasn't come to church with us for quite a while.  Apparently he misses it.

All 3 of our kids are busy during Mass.  The boys are with me in the Folk Group.  Middle Sister is an altar server.  So TheDad is in the pew by himself.

Today, though, he'll have company.  Adventure Boy is coming to church with TheDad.

I know that I have resented this child's ubiquitous presence more often than not.  But I have to remember to lose the selfish attitude and allow an emotionally needy little boy to share my family's life.  We're his village right now, and he needs us.

The Kool-Aid Mom Lays Down the Law

Over the weekend, TheDad and the Big Kids opened the backyard pool for the summer. It's not warm enough to swim, but the Street Urchins who hang around with Little Brother have already been showing up at the door in their swimsuits, towels in hand. (I'm guessing they remember my ironclad rule from last summer: no towel, no swim.)

That's not the only rule I'm going to have to enforce, however. This mom is really tired of people leaving stuff around for me to pick up. They're all old enough to clean up after themselves. And if they won't bother to get their friends to clean up, then they can clean up after their friends as well.

And then there's the whole "availability" issue. When people are in the pool, I have to supervise. Even if they know how to swim. Even though I really don't swim well at all. Having a pool brings a huge amount of responsibility with it. I'm not a fan of the Street Urchins' tactic of "arrive home from school, change into swimsuit, and show up at my house." So...my red light/green light sign has gone back on the front door.

This sign has been around since Little Brother and Adventure Boy were preschoolers. I took one of those foam door hanger things and drew 3 circles on each side. On one side, I colored in the top circle red. In the other 2 circles I wrote "Play Later." Then on the flip side, I colored the bottom circle green and wrote "Friends Welcome." Even pre-readers get the idea. (Little Brother is not authorized to change the sign without my permission.)

I don't want to be unwelcoming, but neither do I want to be the entire neighborhood's maid, lifeguard, and free babysitter. A few limits are a good thing.

Happy Mother's Day!

One of the best things about Mother's Day is the charming cards, notes, letters and crafts that young kids make in school to honor their moms. I still have quite a few of those "keepers" from the big kids, though a couple of crepe-paper flowers have disintegrated with time. But I only have one child who's still young enough to make these in school.

With that, I bring you Little Brother's Mother's Day card and letter to me.

He made the card in Spanish class, and it's the only Spanglish greeting card I've ever received:

!Feliz dia de las madres!
Te amo...Little Brother
Roses are red, Violets are blue,
You love me and I love you!

This was adorned not only with a cute picture, but a sticker of a white duck with the words "Right On!"

He also wrote me a letter, using his best cursive writing.  Attached to this letter (making it more than a little top-heavy) is a lily made from his cut-out handprint and a pipe cleaner.

Dear Mom,
Happy Mother's Day! It's been 19 years as a mom. I love you more than anything. (Except for Dad, Big Brother and Middle Sister.) You're the best mom a kid could have. You're the best, remember that.
Love,
Little Brother

I love how he very charmingly hedged his bets in that letter, not wanting to play favorites or anything.

Hope your Mother's Day is a sweet one!

Much-Needed Perspective

At Mass yesterday, the message in the homily was, "God does a lot with a little." Not only did we hear about Jesus feeding the multitudes on nothing but some little boy's lunch, but we also reflected on the commitment of those early apostles. They were not Roman lawyers, Greek philosophers, or Asian mystics, Father D told us, though certainly Jesus could have chosen such apostles had he wished to. No, they were ordinary people: fishermen and tax collectors. Maybe, Father suggested, this is because such people would not let their egos get in the way of Jesus' message.

Ouch. I've been guilty of that one lately. We just came through the Triduum and Easter, which means that it was time for my Semi-Annual Musical Pity Party. I sing and play guitar with the Folk Group. We operate on the "Keep It Simple" theory of liturgical music. Keep it simple, and people will feel welcome to sing along with you. It works for us. But our parish also has an Adult Choir. They like things more complicated and elaborate in that choir. And that's the choir that gets to sing at Christmas, and the Triduum, and Easter.

We didn't get asked to participate in the Triduum in any way. We were not invited to join in with the Adult Choir for the Great Three Days.

And it hurt. Boy, did it hurt. I went to Holy Thursday Mass and really felt it. And since Big Brother was playing at another church on Good Friday, we went to the service there. By the time the Easter Vigil rolled around, I was so completely upset that I even skipped the Easter Fire. I just didn't think I could be there without losing it entirely. Even on Easter morning, I was having a rough time.

"You'll feel better after you go to Mass and sing," TheDad assured me. And he was right. I needed to get there, put on my guitar, and belt out the Gloria with everything I could muster. After that, I did feel a lot better.

This is all about humility, really. It all boils down to God doing a lot with a little. Our Folk Group may not have been asked to do anything at all for the Great Three Days. But Sunday after Sunday when we're there at 12:00 Mass, we give it our all. We're not always pitch-perfect, and sometimes a guitarist will (loudly) strike the wrong chord. Yet when we sing the Gloria, we mean it. And people are singing the Gloria with us. That's what we're there for.

It's time for me to let go of the feeling of resentment that we're not "good enough" for the Triduum and just rejoice in the fact that we help people pray though music, Sunday after Sunday after Sunday. Maybe we just have a little talent, but if we get out of the way, God can do a lot with it.

Mr. Musical Malaprop

Little Brother is 9, which means that he is still given to cute mispronunciations--only now they're of the polysyllabic variety. (I'm really going to miss that when he grows up.)

He took me to breakfast this morning at Chick-Fil-A, just he and I, and one of the workers had been a cast member of The Wizard of Oz with him. Naturally, the whole way home, we sang songs from the play. I think we sang our way through the whole "Munchkinland" scene.

And he's not just an actor--he's a future director. As we finished "We're Off to See the Wizard," he informed me that this is the part where everyone exits the stage. "When we're walking off the stage, we descendo the music," I was told.

Find a Different Pattern

Little Brother came home from school and reported that they had gone to Mass for First Friday.

"We sang, Allaluia, Alleluia, Let the Holy Anthem Rise," he told me.

"Hey, we sang that at daily Mass where I was too!"

"That's cool," he replied. "We also sang The Stripe is O'er."

(Because in Catholic school, they wear plaid.)

Book Review: My Teenage Werewolf

This book warranted more than the sentence or three that I give the other books I've read.  That's partly because of my strong reaction to it, and partly because of the strong reactions I got from my teenage daughter and another teenage girl who was visiting and saw it on the coffee table.

Both of them were offended by the title:  My Teenage Werewolf.  And when they found out the premise of the book, they were no less offended.  Author Lauren Kessler wants to "understand" her 12-year-old daughter better, so she shadows the girl at school, summer camp, at the mall, and on athletic fields.

My daughter was horrified--and relieved to discover that I had no intentions of similarly invading her life.  Even if there was a book deal involved.  Perhaps especially if there was a book deal involved.  (A lot never gets said here, because my daughter is 15, and I need to respect her privacy.)

I read the book because I wanted to find out how this mom managed to "embed" herself in her daughter's academic and athletic world.  How did she talk a school principal into allowing her to follow her daughter around all day?  And if she spent her day following her daughter around, how did she get anything else done? (There was frequent mention of lattes in the book, so I'm guessing copious amounts of caffeine were involved.)

I'm the first to admit that I don't have the ideal relationship with my teenage daughter.  We butt heads a lot.  Sometimes it's hard to remember that I'm the adult here, and that part of being 15 is being irrational, mercurial, and even selfish at times.  But part of being 15 is also being industrious, generous and energetic--all of which she is, and often in surprising ways.

Teenagers are on their way to growing up, and they are trying to make their way in a challenging world.  While I agree that it's a good thing--actually, a necessary thing--for parents to be involved and engaged in their kids' lives, I know that as teenagers learn to do more and be more, parents need to step back and let that happen.  Within reason, of course.  There's less hand-holding and more listening, often for things that are not said.  I felt that Kessler was busy trying to relive her own teenage years through her daughter, and that's never a good idea.  Other times I felt that Kessler was using her daughter as a means to an end (see "book deal" above.)  That's not a good idea either.

I'm not looking for the "ultimate bonding experience" with my daughter.  Sometimes I'll settle for enjoying our mutual favorite Panera sandwich, Asiago bagel with veggie cream cheese, with her.

Disclaimer:  This is a completely uncompensated review. I borrowed the book from the library.

Not Your Bus

Little Brother is the only kid in the neighborhood who doesn't have school this week.  That's because he's the only Catholic-school kid in the neighborhood.  Everyone else went back to school today.

While he could have slept in, Little Brother is not that kind of kid.  There are video games to be played, and Nerf slam-dunks to be practiced.

Besides, he thought he'd lord it over all his friends, since they have school today and he doesn't.

When he followed TheDad out to his car to say goodbye for the day, he saw people gathering at the bus stop.  But he came in to watch a few more minutes of SportsCenter.

And suddenly, the school bus was pulling away from the curb, and it was too late for him to brag about his week off to his friends.

"Mom," he shouted accusingly, "you were supposed to tell me when the bus got here."

Since when am I responsible for reminding my children to meet a school bus that isn't theirs, so they can brag to their friends?  If they want to act like that, they certainly don't need my help.

"I only issue reminders for buses you're supposed to be riding," I informed him.

Slowly but Surely...Spring Cleaning

I'm using the 3-bag method to clean up in here today.

• 1 paper grocery bag for recyclable paper
• 1 tote bag for stuff that belongs in another room
• 1 trash bag

So far so good!  I've discovered that I do, indeed, have a desktop.  It is brown.  It is not dusty, because there was no room for any dust to land on there!

I found a couple of things I didn't know were missing, and my bag of stuff to relocate is by far the fullest of the 3 bags.

The rest of the house still needs work--lots of work.  But my little corner of the world is well on its way to neatness.

Alleluia

Alleluia!  He is risen!  Blessings to you this Easter!

On Good Friday

We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

Pragmatic Sacrifice

There is just so much sacrificing a 9-year-old can do.

Case in point: Middle Sister had a friend sleep over last night. Despite the fact that there's a trundle bed in Middle Sister's room, we woke up this morning to find her friend snoozing on the family-room couch. That's where the TV is.

Little Brother wanted to watch TV.

While I was making his breakfast, he complained about the fact that he can't watch TV this morning.

"It's Good Friday today, bud. It's a day of sacrifice."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sacrifice is giving up something important, especially when it helps other people. What did Jesus sacrifice on Good Friday?"

"His life," he said, as he gave me a big hug.

"So I think you can manage to miss your TV show this morning," I told him.

He nodded, thinking about that for a bit. "It's OK, Mom," he said. "My show comes on again at 10:30. Do you think she'll be up by then?"

It Might Get Loud

The Boy Next Door and a few other friends are over here to hang out with Middle Sister. They're all freshmen in high school, which means that while these guys enjoy going to school dances, they also enjoy staging Nerf wars with Little Brother.

Middle Sister came in here a few minutes ago to ask me to get Little Brother off the porch, where she was sitting with her friends.

"Find a friend your own age," I told Little Brother.

But the friends piped up, "No, we're having fun! He should stay here."

"Yeah," Little Brother chimed in. "They're like the brothers I never had."

"You have a brother," I reminded him.

So Little Brother remains on the porch (or in the yard--I just saw a bunch of these guys run by the window) with Middle Sister and the guys. There he is, right in the thick of things. And while it's noisy out there on the porch, I really don't mind having this bunch over. As long as they remember to put their empty soda cans in the recycling bin, they're welcome here.

Not So Grumpy

Sometimes you just have to break your own fashion rules.

I figure that I'm not young enough to pull off T-shirts with slogans or sweat shirts with pictures. I make an exception for Notre Dame and any school/team spirit wear associated with my kids, but that's it.

And I'm not a big Disney fan.

But a few months ago I found a fleece with my favorite Dwarf's picture on it, along with the words "I'm GRUMPY." At the time, I joked that I was buying it so that on days when I was feeling grumpy, I could issue a warning to my family.

That's not how it has turned out, though. When I wear this fleece, my grumpy mood tends to evaporate. The picture makes me smile, and it's hard to be grumpy when you're smiling. It's a weird way to get an attitude adjustment, but it works for me.

I should wear this shirt every day. I'm sure it would never pass the test on "What Not To Wear," but that's OK.

Why I'm Thankful Today

Today didn't start out so great, but I do have plenty to be thankful for. I wasn't feeling well yesterday so most of the afternoon was spent on the couch with the heating pad. Fortunately I have a laptop so I was able to get my work done. Also fortunately, I have a husband who can turn a blind eye to a fair amount of clutter that happens when I don't bother getting after the kids who've left a "Hansel and Gretl" trail of shoes, sandals, sweatshirts, novels, pretzel bags, jars of change, school projects and books for projects-in-progress all over the place. I also, fortunately, have a husband who is more than willing to take us to the Chinese buffet when I confess that I'm just not in the mood to cook any dinner.

So there were dishes to wash this morning before I could have coffee (I needed a clean coffee cup, after all). It's never fun to wake up and find dishes in the sink. But Little Brother got fed, dressed, combed, and out the door with a minimum of drama. Middle Sister did not miss the bus or forget her lunch.

I missed daily Mass because I had a GYN appointment. Not my yearly (that's coming up in 3 weeks) but a visit because I've been having problems. Again. Silly me for thinking that the hysterectomy would take care of all the problems.

The nurse weighed me before she took my blood pressure. BIG mistake.

The doctor kept me waiting for an hour. But then she kept other patients waiting while she listened to my concerns, asked detailed questions about my symptoms, checked on dates, reviewed past test results, and settled on a plan for where we go from here. I felt like I had been heard and that my concerns were respected.

So I left the doctor's office two full hours after my appointment time. (Good thing I had my Kindle with me!) I was two blocks from the mall, and I decided to run in and check to see if the shoes I had seen on sale last time I was there were still available. Hey, a little retail therapy never hurts. Especially when shoes are involved. As luck would have it, the shoe rack at the Lands' End Shop in Sears had ONE pair left of my "old faithful" sneakers--and they were in my size. Even better, they were on super clearance: $55 sneakers marked down to $6.99. AND they had ONE pair of a slightly dressier boat shoe left, again in my size, again marked down to $6.99 from $50.

I may have 3 medical appointments scheduled within the next 3 weeks, but at least my feet will look good when I get there.

Before there were Blogs

Before there were blogs, I had a cyber-lifeline. It was a group of moms on an AOL bulletin board. All of us stayed at home with our very young children. I think I found this board when Big Brother was a toddler.

At the time, we lived in a neighborhood that was primarily retired military. They were great neighbors; there was always someone at home (and out in their yards) during the day--but there was no one for Big Brother to play with and no moms for me to chat with.

That's where the SAHMs came in--the Stay At Home Moms from the AOL bulletin boards. We had our own little meeting spot where we could stop in at any time and post a message; in no time at all, it seemed, someone would leave a comment for us.

We encouraged each other through births of children, infertility, deaths of parents, job losses, military deployments, potty training, temper tantrums, food allergies and health crises. And when we gradually moved away from AOL, we took our core group with us and formed an email list. That petered out after a while, but then along came Facebook--and magically, we're all back in touch again.

Now it's time to support one of our number, as we've just learned (via Facebook) that one of the SAHMs has suddenly lost her 20-year-old son. He was a college student, and an intelligent young man of many talents and great promise.

I request the kindness of your prayers for the repose of Mark's soul, and for his parents and two brothers and many friends and relatives who mourn his loss.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. And may those he left behind be comforted.

Tween Track Trends

At Little Brother's track meet today, I was doing the "recording" (writing down everyone's times for each race) when the other teams' recorders and I noticed a couple of girls wearing two different running shoes.

It seems that they'd traded ONE of their shoes with another runner, so they each had two different shoes.

No big deal, they told us. The shoes were the same brand and the same size.

After another mom explained that runners' feet are each different and the shoes conform to the feet, she mumbled to me that she really doesn't like parenting other people's children.

Clearly I have no such qualms; at that very moment I was asking the girls if they were running in any more races today and instructing them to change their shoes back before racing again.

Digitally Catholic

It's not like I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the digital age. And certainly, my digital pursuits have enriched my spiritual life.

I listen to satellite radio and enjoy Catholic programming.

I listen to podcasts.

I read blogs. I have a Kindle.

And I have an iPod touch with plenty of Catholic apps. Those are useful things, those apps. One of my most-used apps is Divine Office, which allows me to download the Liturgy of the Hours at home, where I have wireless access, and take the prayers with me. It's much easier than carrying a heavy book.

But today, I brought my iPod to Mass, arriving a little early so I could pray Morning Prayer (this morning was a little bit off schedule).  I have to say, it felt kind of weird sitting there in church with an iPod.  Even though the only app I used was Divine Office, and no one was even paying attention to me, I felt very conspicuous.

Then I came home and read about a new book, Prayer in the Digital Age, by Mark Swaim. Looks intriguing! Maybe it's just what I need to read.

Mass Appeal

Yesterday before the closing performance of the high school's spring musical, Mass was celebrated for the cast, crew and orchestra. This way, they make it easy for all the hardworking performers to attend Mass.

When TheDad and I arrived to watch the final performance, three separate parent volunteers informed us that Little Brother had been one of the readers at the Mass! They all said that he did a great job.

But at the cast party after the play, we got the full story from the director and the orchestra's conductor. The priest had asked for three volunteers to be readers. Little Brother was one of many volunteers, and he was chosen to read the responsorial Psalm.

One of the adults reviewed this responsibility with him, reminding him that after each stanza, he should raise his hand to indicate the congregation's turn to respond.

"I know about that," he replied matter-of-factly. "I go to church."

From the Department of "What Were They Thinking?"

Little Brother's school is very big on reading. Both reading for information and recreational reading are encouraged at school. I'm glad about that, since I'm also a big fan of reading.

In the primary grades, there's time built into the students' day for "DEAR" time (Drop Everything And Read.) And once a month for an entire week, the Reading Train comes to school. Each student is required to carry a book wherever he goes (except to lunch, because the train doesn't come during lunch). You never know when you'll hear a train whistle and the announcement: "Climb aboard the Reading Train!" Everyone heads out to the hallway with their book, sits down on the floor, and you hear nothing but the rustle of turning pages for 15 minutes.

Little Brother's class has reading time as well, but it's not called "DEAR." Instead, his teacher calls it "DIRT" time: Daily Independent Reading Time. She has provided string bags for each student to keep a couple of books, to be read during DIRT time.

Can you tell where this is going?

They call these bags "DIRTbags."

It Can't Come Soon Enough

Closing night for the high school's spring musical (The Wizard of Oz) is tomorrow. We've been eating, breathing, and not sleeping the play for over two months now.

I had my reservations about allowing Little Brother to participate, but I went ahead and let him do it. (I also notified his teacher about the certainty of late bedtimes for days on end, and asked her to let me know if there were any problems with schoolwork or behavior. I guess there haven't been any.)

Middle Sister has been doing everything at school except for showering and sleeping. That's all she's had time for at home. She'd get to school around 8 AM, go to class until 2:30, start track practice at 3, eat dinner, and go to play practice until at least 9--and in the last two weeks, as late as 11.

No one's been around to do any chores. Except for me, when I'm not behind the wheel of the van, shuttling people back and forth to play practice.

The play has been a great experience for both of my kids. Middle Sister has made new friends and learned new skills (she's helped with stage crew set-building as well as being a cast member.) And Little Brother, apparently, has been "adopted" as the whole cast's little brother. At those Tech Week Dinners, he could be found dining with the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Wizard and the Flying Monkey in Charge. I'd go over to make sure he'd eaten a good dinner, only to find him playing video games on someone's cell phone or high-fiving a cast member.

So I'm glad that they have both had this opportunity, and I know they'll be missing the play on Monday when they get to eat dinner here at home and do chores and not have somewhere to be after dinner. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to serving dinner to the whole family, nagging my kids to get those chores done, and not having to get somebody somewhere after dinner.

After all, "there's no place like home."

Planning Way Ahead

On the way to church yesterday, we drove down a street where several houses sported "for sale" signs. Seeing these, Little Brother commented, "I wonder where I'll live when I grow up."

"I thought you wanted to be a priest, so I guess you'll live at the house that goes with your church," I replied.

"But Mom, priests can't have all 7 sacraments. I want to be a deacon. Do you think Deacon B and Deacon D have received all 7 sacraments?"

"Maybe they have," I told him. "The only one I can't be sure about is Anointing of the Sick. But after church tonight, you can ask whichever deacon is there."

(Such are the advantages of having 2 wonderful deacons in our parish, both of whom know my kids, both of whom are dads and granddads and willing to talk to kids and answer questions about how many sacraments they've received.)

After Mass, Little Brother waited his turn and when Deacon B was done speaking to a group of adults, Little Brother asked if he had received all 7 sacraments. They wound up in a good discussion about being a deacon, Holy Orders, and how old you have to be to become a deacon. And Deacon B promised to be there, if he could, when Little Brother receives that sacrament.

I'll Take My Chances

High-fructose corn syrup is no longer the latest scapegoat when it comes to American obesity. According to a study conducted at Northwestern University, Bible study can make you fat.

Researchers mention "the sedentary nature of prayer" as a possible culprit.

There's always The Rosary Workout.

Parents, pray that your kids don't pay attention to the "news." This story is all over the place today. If they see it, they'll have more ammo in the "But church is so boooooooooooring" battle. Now they'll tell you that it'll make them fat.

I'll take that risk. And I think my kids will be better for it.

My Pleasure

I had the pleasure of helping to serve dinner to 150 students, staff members, and future students at Middle Sister's high school tonight. Along with about 12 other parents and grandparents, I made iced tea, kept the baked ziti and meatballs hot, set up the dessert tray and spooned out salad.

The kids made it all worthwhile. Not one went through the line without thanking us many times over: for handing them a cup of iced tea or water, for extra scoops of baked ziti, for the delicious meal. Some kids even came back through the line to compliment the parents on the dinner. And before they all headed to the auditorium for rehearsal, they gave us a standing ovation.

The kids were happy, polite, and friendly. Truly a credit to the school--and their parents.

Grace Before Meals

I'm a big fan of Father Leo Patalinghug's website and his cookbook (worth the purchase price to get that "secret" fajita recipe).

I have the feeling that someone at my daughter's high school has also been influenced by Father Leo. Either that, or great minds think alike.

Tonight is the first night of "Tech Week" as the kids get ready for the spring musical. For seven nights of "Tech Week" (each weekday this week, as well as Monday & Tuesday of next week), a group of parents will arrive at school at 4 PM to cook and serve dinner to the 150 students participating in the play, stage crew and orchestra. It's a way to make sure that these very busy kids get a good meal before rehearsal, rather than a fast-food sandwich. But it's also a way to help the kids bond as they work toward a common goal.

I'll be there to cook, serve and clean up on four of the seven nights, and I'm really looking forward to it. I think this will be a wonderful experience for all the "play kids"--and the parents as well.

And when the play is over, I'll look forward to having the whole family back around my dining-room table again. But if the kids can't be here, I'm glad they'll be there.

A Sporting Chance

Little Brother receives a subscription to Magnifikid! magazine. This is one of those things that I wish had existed when my Big Kids were younger. Once a child can read, this magazine is perfect. He can follow along through the whole Mass, and there are special activities to keep a wiggly kid busy during the homily, a weekly comic, and parent resources. (Need a First Communion gift idea? Look no further.)

TheDad is taking Little Brother to an earlier Mass than usual today, and as they headed out the door I called out, "Little Brother! Don't forget your magazine!"

"Sports Illustrated for Kids?" he replied eagerly.

Substitution

I was a substitute teacher today. I've done this several times this school year. I only sub for the school librarian (so far) which is fine with me. I know the routine, and I only have any particular group of kids for 30 to 45 minutes at a time.

Twice this year, I have had the fourth and fifth graders come through the library during my sub time. They share two teachers who have divided up the subject areas between them. Each time, the same teacher is dropping the kids off. When she leaves, she gets this concerned look on her face and asks me, "Will you be all right?"

(I'm sure she's unaware that I am a certified teacher with a Master's degree, but I'm still a little insulted).

After the first time I taught these two groups I had the kids' number. And we've done just fine, thankyouverymuch. They're not bad. They're just 10- and 11-year-olds.

And each time the teacher comes back to pick up the kids, she's surprised that they're being good. This afternoon when she retrieved the fifth graders, she was amazed to find them sitting at tables, all reading their library books quietly.

I guess I'm wondering if I should be insulted by all this. She doesn't seem to think I am capable of handling these classes, though I have proven otherwise. Or am I just paranoid?

Catholic Media Promotion Day: My Turn

Here's where I get to share my VERY favorite Catholic websites, blogs, podcasts, apps and more with you. Today's the day when Catholic bloggers, facebookers and tweeters are telling the world about their favorite Catholic New Media resources. These are my own personal "go-to" resources. Your mileage may vary, but I'm a big fan of the ones listed below.  These are in no particular order.

APPS:
Divine Office.  Learn to pray the Liturgy of the Hours, and take it on the go with their app!  At this writing, it's $14.99, but well worth it for the portability and completeness of this app.  Web version of daily prayer is free, but with the app you can download a few days' worth and take it with you even if you don't have Wi-Fi access.

iPieta.  $2.99 and SO worth it!   This is a big app, full of complete versions of Catholic documents, teachings, spiritual writings, prayers and calendars.

Stations of the Cross.  For Lent or anytime!  This version is based on the meditation book by Michael Dubriel and Amy Welborn, published by Ave Maria Press.  FREE.


BLOGS:
Quantum Theology, hosted by Michelle--a chemistry professor and columnist for the Philadelphia Archdiocese's Catholic Standard & Times.

Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering, hosted by Sarah Reinhard.  Her reflections are mature beyond her years, and her devotion to the Blessed Mother is inspiring.

Praying for Grace, hosted by Barbara.  She's got spinoff blogs as well, related to her rosary-making business and her love of cooking.  This one, her main site, shows a day in the life of a homeschooling, cooking, knitting, rosary-making, reading, praying mom with a generous heart and gentle spirit.


WEBSITES:
Catholic Mom, hosted by Lisa Hendey.

Grace Before Meals, hosted by Father Leo Patalinghug.  Great recipes and a huge helping of encouragement for Catholic families.


PODCASTS:
Among Women Podcast, hosted by Pat Gohn.

Faith & Family Live Podcast, hosted by the Faith & Family bloggers.  Great support for Catholic moms.


WORTH A FOLLOW ON TWITTER:
Fr. Charles, also of A Minor Friar blog.  His description:  "Tweeting the sublime hilarity and the hilarious sublimity of life and learning as a Capuchin Franciscan friar."

American Papist for all kinds of Catholic news, views and humor. 

Danielle Bean, whose work I've been following (in some form or other) since 2005.  Her tweets lead you to great articles, both her own and those by other writers.



STUFF I LIKE ON FACEBOOK:
Ave Maria Press:  info about their latest titles and more.  During Lent:  40 Days of Soup feature!


Our Sunday Visitor:  links to articles about current events from their website and print edition.


The Rosary Workout:  author's page by Peggy Bowes.


Family-Centered Press, home of excellent cottage-industry Catholic planners.



ONLINE NEWS:
National Catholic Register, online edition.  Articles, blogs and more.  Subscribe to the online edition for access to all print-edition content.  Many features are FREE but the subscription is worth it!


Catholic News Agency.  All the latest current events in the church and in the world.


RADIO SHOW (OK, that's not exactly "new" media, but it is satellite radio. So I say it counts):
The Catholics Next Door, hosted by Greg & Jennifer Willits, on The Catholic Channel (Sirius 159, XM 117). I bought an "all access pass" for Sirius/XM so I can listen to this show at home OR in my car. They have great guests, fun games, and a huge touch of reality--they are a real family, kids, pets and all, just trying to live out their vocation as Catholics in the real world. There's even a weekly podcast!

Be sure to check the Catholic New Media Promotion Day page on facebook to see everyone else's favorites! My guess is that it will be a gold mine of great resources.

I Wish I Could Have Been There

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them walk into church yesterday before Mass. There was a mom and four young children, probably between the ages of 8 and 2 1/2 or 3. The two little ones were boys and appeared to be quite close in age. Everyone was nicely dressed, neatly combed, and extremely cute.

I've only seen this family once or twice before. They sat in just about the same spot. After I set my guitar down and turned the page of my music, I turned to sit down myself and saw the little boys snuggling up against their mom in the pew as Father started the homily.

How can you see that and not smile?

Father had a good homily, but it wasn't a short one. There was a little whispering and wiggling from the young family sitting near me. Of course there was! They're little kids. Then I saw the mom get up and lead everyone out. Jackets and all.

I was so, so tempted to run out after her. I wanted to let her know that it was OK. Maybe next week they'll last 5 more minutes. And really, her kids were not that bad. They weren't eating or playing with Matchbox cars or Game Boys or crayons. They weren't screaming or running up the aisle.

I hope and pray that this mom will not get discouraged, that she will continue the very tough task of bringing four young children to Mass on Sundays. For the rest of the Mass, I prayed for that mom. I was hoping that she had not gone home all upset and angry and embarrassed. Been there, done that.

But I still wish I'd slipped out after her and offered a little encouragement. And if I see them again, I just might do that.

The First Temptation

Our associate pastor has a page in the bulletin each week. Lately he has been using this page to offer a reflection on the Sunday Gospel. It's always worth a read, but I was particularly intrigued by Father H's comments on the three temptations that Christ faced when he encountered Satan in the desert.

The first temptation. The tempter says: If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves of bread. Jesus answers: One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.
Jesus’ hunger is the occasion for the first temptation. That word ‘bread’ refers to everything that is essential to live. It refers to that astounding array of possessions that feed, clothe, shelter, sustain, transport, and amuse us. But these very things can distract us from giving God His due. Jesus says that the full meaning of life cannot be reduced to what is visible, edible, tangible, or collectible. The core of being human lies elsewhere: in every Word that comes from the mouth of God. Jesus says that God’s desires for humanity and not those of the tempter, will define His life and mission. We may ask: who are those who live by bread alone? We may also wonder if the story of how we may have lost touch with our sacred traditions, the great yet-to-be-told story of our Church? Lent may be a good time to recover the meaning of these sacred traditions.

What an excellent question to ask during Lent. Do I live by bread alone? For that matter, do I nourish my family by bread alone? Sure, I provide for physical needs such as food, clothing, and shelter. And then there's all the "stuff." But really, all that is bread alone. Have I nourished my family in other ways--not just the physical ways? Have I nourished myself and my family in spiritual ways?

Foiled Again

It's a good thing we only live a mile or so from Middle Sister's high school, because I use quite a bit of time (and gas) going back and forth.

On a typical day, she catches the bus in the morning, but misses the afternoon bus because of track practice. Sometime between 4:30 and 5:15 (depending on the length of the day's workout, which varies) she calls for a ride home. Then I have to have her (and sometimes Little Brother) back there at 6:30 for play practice. If he's done earlier than she is, I have to pick them up separately. That's three or four runs to the school on a daily basis.

And then you have her tendency to miss the school bus. Sometimes it's her fault, sometimes it isn't. While you could set a clock by the bus driver Big Brother had in high school, who retired earlier this year, this new driver is not so punctual. He and Middle Sister seem to be on opposite schedules. On the days when she's running a bit late, he's at the corner by 7:35. Today she was out there with time to spare--and I wound up picking her up at the corner at 7:47. The bus was nowhere in sight. That's almost a 15-minute window, which is a long time to stand on the corner when the weather's not fantastic.

Sure, I could make her walk to school if she misses the bus. But I don't do that in bad weather (it's threatening to pour rain any second now) and I won't do that if she misses the bus through no fault of her own. Today was not her fault.

So, today, I drove her to school for the third time this week. (Two of those were her fault.)

I joked yesterday that she had given up missing the bus for Lent. Apparently, though, the bus driver had other ideas.

Coming Soon: Catholic Media Promotion Day

Here's where I say that I hope you didn't give up facebook for Lent!

You see, Greg and Jennifer Willits of my favorite Catholic radio show, The Catholics Next Door on Sirius/XM radio, have proposed that next Tuesday, March 15, be dedicated to sharing our favorite Catholic media resources: blogs, podcasts, websites and more.

Visit the facebook page and "Like" it so you'll receive all the details. If you've got a blog, post about YOUR favorite Catholic media resources--but don't post that info until March 15. Here's the instructions:

On March 15, 2011, everyone with a blog, podcast, or Facebook page should list their favorite 3 blogs, 3 podcasts, 3 other media, 3 random Catholic things online, and their own projects. Then, post the link to your list on the Catholic Media Promotion Day facebook page on March 15th. Additionally, to help get the word out, press are asked to write articles and press releases for this day. Lastly, on March 15th, go to iTunes and leave at least 3 positive written reviews for various Catholic podcasts and 3 positive written reviews for Catholic mobile applications.

Spread the word--and share your favorites! It's not a contest, just a way to get the word out about some great Catholic new media resources.

And after you share them on Tuesday, keep on sharing them! Our parish bulletin prints a link each week, in a regular "Links of Faith" feature. Why not ask your pastor if you can supply a list of new media resources to be published in your parish bulletin and shared with your whole community?

A Man of Few Words

After dinner tonight, Little Brother got busy with a few phone calls. In the past couple of days, he has received a couple of birthday cards containing gifts, and he needed to express his thanks.

His first call was to my uncle, who happens to be a Franciscan priest (Franciscan runs in the family). My uncle lives by the motto "Brevity is the soul of wit." If you're not into long homilies, visit his parish. He says what has to be said and gets it done in under five minutes.

I can only guess at what my uncle said during this phone call, which probably took no longer than 90 seconds. But I heard Little Brother's end of it, so I'm reconstructing the other side:

Uncle: Hello.

Little Brother: Hi, Uncle. This is Little Brother. Thank you for the birthday card.

Uncle: You're welcome! Happy birthday!

Little Brother: Thanks. I hope you're feeling better. (My uncle has pneumonia).

Uncle: Thanks.

Little Brother: Bye.

Uncle: Bye.

I'm not going to have to worry about this kid tying up the phone lines.

Nine is Fine

Little Brother is nine today.

Photo credit:  Middle Sister

Here we are as he gets his Bear Scout patch at last weekend's Blue and Gold Dinner. (Pardon my apron; I was still "working" at this point in the evening.)

His nickname has been "Monkey" ever since he was a baby. Lately, he's been embarrassed to have me call him that in public. But then he snagged a part in the high school's spring musical: The Wizard of Oz. He and Middle Sister will both be multitasking as Munchkins and Flying Monkeys.

I get to call him "Monkey" all I want now.

Happy Birthday to my Bear Scout, my soccer player, my basketball star, my fellow Notre Dame sports fan, my reading buddy, my runner, my singer, my enthusiastic, dramatic, exasperating, energetic, crazy-haired NINE-YEAR-OLD!

What's Your Favorite Bible Verse?

Do you listen to the Among Women podcast? You don't have to have an iPod to listen in! You can download the files to your computer or even listen online. But this weekly podcast, hosted by Pat Gohn, is definitely worth your time.

I like to download this always-enlightening podcast and play it back when I've got some kitchen or household chores that will take a decent amount of time but not a lot of mental energy. Listening to Pat and her fascinating guests helps the time fly by--and I multitask by learning as I work!

Right now, Pat is preparing a special edition of Among Women, and she's looking for audience participation. New listeners can join in as well! Here are the details:

Dear Among Women listeners,

Please consider this an open invitation to submit your favorite Bible verses to me, and tell me why they "speak" to you, or are special to you. I'm preparing another Among Women "Special Edition" podcast and want to highlight the Bible and its role in our lives.

I'd like to know what Book, Chapter and verse the reading comes from, your name and city/state, and why you love those verses.

There are two ways to share your submissions:

1. Call and record your thoughts on our feedback line at: 206-203-2024. I love this option because it puts YOUR VOICE on the podcast.... and don't worry if you make a mistake, I can edit out little muffs or glitches! But do it! I'd love to hear from you. You can also send me a file recorded on your mobile phone, or on your computer. I can take wave files, mp3's and m4a's.

2. Send your feedback to me via email, or send it via Facebook.

Looking forward to learning what scripture verses are meaningful to you! Let's share God's Word with one another.

Your intentions remain in my prayers.

Peace,
Pat Gohn

host, Among Women
Pat Gohn
Among Women Blog

Why not give Pat a helping hand and share your favorite Bible verse with the Among Women listeners? I'll be calling in with mine!

Too Familiar?

I always wonder where you draw the line when, as a parent, you address a teacher--and vice versa.

I've known Little Brother's teacher since he was an infant, and we've been on a first-name basis, which is fine until I'm in the school building, and suddenly, though we are about the same age, I want to call her "Mrs. [insert last name here]." Even when there are no kids around!

The familiarity is fine, I think, when you've known the teacher for a while, when you've volunteered side by side with the person.

But over the past couple of days I have had occasion to email Middle Sister's algebra teacher. I've only met this teacher once--at Back to School Night. He doesn't know me from any of the other parents of his 75 students (or his 75 choir members). He never taught Big Brother. And he's young enough that he could have been one of my students, back when I was teaching.

Yet despite the fact that I addressed my email to him: "Mr. [insert last name here]," he responded back with "Barb."

I did sign my email with my first AND LAST names. Perhaps he didn't feel like typing my whole last name. I'd never in a million years, though, think that it's OK for me to call him by his first name--and I'm at least 10 years his senior.

Really? Is that OK? If you were a teacher, would you do that? I've received emails from several other teachers in the same school in past years, and this is the first time this has happened.

Hat Trick

Little Brother has been struggling with cursive writing this school year. Recently, his teacher began requiring the students to write all homework, except for math, in cursive.

So yesterday he got busy doing his spelling homework: use 10 of his spelling words in a sentence. Four or five sentences into the project, he realized that he hadn't done this work in cursive. Much complaining, wailing and gnashing of teeth resulted.

"Just start over and do it in cursive," I advised. Little Brother tends toward the dramatic, and can easily spend more time whining about a job and how difficult it is than it takes to actually get the job done.

He stomped up the stairs. "Cursive writing is the worst," he proclaimed. "Just like showers and haircuts!"

Sandwich Time

Here I thought I was too young to be part of the Sandwich Generation. After all, Little Brother is only turning 9 next month.

Apparently I thought wrong.

My mother-in-law stays with us just about every other weekend. That means two three-hour round trips per weekend for my husband to go get her and bring her home. So in a way we've been sandwiching for the past year and a half.

Last night while we sat at the Boy Scout Spaghetti Dinner, my mother-in-law suddenly didn't feel well. After a few minutes, my husband sent me into the restroom to make sure she was OK. My neighbor went with me and we asked my mother-in-law about her symptoms.

We were both fairly concerned when she mentioned chest pain, trouble breathing, pain between the shoulder blades, dizziness and a cold sweat. Since we were all done with our dinners anyway (we were just hanging around talking with friends and other Scout families by this point) we all went home and I convinced TheDad that a trip to the ER would be a good idea. They were seen pretty quickly and nitroglycerin relieved her angina symptoms. She declined the offer of an overnight stay "for observation" and came back here with us.

Now she'll be here until tomorrow night, when my husband will hand her off to his brother. We don't want her staying alone in her house until she sees her regular doctor on Tuesday. She's not happy, which is going to feed her anxiety, but we just don't think that leaving her alone is a good idea, especially when we found out that she has had other health issues for several months and not told anyone (including her doctor) about them.

So it looks like TheDad will have plenty on his plate in the days and weeks to come. It will be my job to keep things going around here so that he's free to handle what he has to.

Prayers would be appreciated.

Reworked

Barbara has been doing an occasional series on laundry.

Laundry is one of those chores that we do one way and we stick with it. Even when our system isn't working well for us, we stubbornly stick to that system.

I freely admit to being a slave to my laundry system, which hasn't worked well for us since we moved into this house. That was in 1998.

Our old home was compact, with no wasted space, but not much to spare either. The utility closet (big enough for furnace, water heater, washer and dryer and nothing else) was just inside the front door--in the dining room. I had room for one laundry basket on top of the dryer. So laundry got done and delivered to the bedrooms, to be put away. I had no choice--there was nowhere else to put it.

Then we moved to this house, which has a laundry room in the basement. Since I had always folded the laundry right there by my dryer in the old house, I did the same here. But it was so easy to fold the laundry and place it in a laundry basket--one for each family member.

Five laundry baskets take up an awful lot of floor space in the basement.

And by the end of the day, I would forget to hassle nag remind my kids to carry their laundry baskets upstairs and put their clothes away. So they'd go to the basement to look for stuff, and rummage through the baskets, and I'd get annoyed because they had unfolded all the neatly-folded laundry.

It wasn't working for me. It wasn't working too well for them, either.

So I tried something different--which, for me, is a big step. The only time I willingly try something different is when I'm cooking. I stepped out of my Laundry (Dis)Comfort Zone. When the dryer was done, I dumped everything into a basket and took it right upstairs. I folded it on my bed and delivered the folded things to everyone else's beds. Now when they get home from school there is laundry on their beds, to be put away. There are no baskets cluttering up my basement floor, full of tumbled clothes. There is no "Mom, where's my (insert name of article of clothing here)?" There are no mad rushes to the basement downstairs to find that missing piece of a uniform.

I deliver as I go, and it's amazing how much better I feel about getting that done. The only thing I need to tweak is what happens to the Lonely Socks, since I'm no longer in the basement to utilize the Lonely Sock Clothesline.

It feels so good to retool a system and have it work out so much better!

One of Those Days

And it's not even 8 AM!

I had weird dreams last night; I was substitute teaching in a very unfamiliar school--the kind of school where there has been addition after addition until the whole place is a maze. You're amazed if you can find your classroom. I couldn't find any sub plans, there was a fire drill, school didn't end until after 4, and they asked if I'd come back on a Saturday to sub again. Yikes.

Incidentally, I'm subbing for the librarian at Little Brother's school tomorrow. But I know what I have to do, I know my way around, and school's over promptly at 3. Saturdays? Not gonna happen. I can't promise that there won't be a fire drill, though I hope that if there is, it's not when I have the first grade.

So I woke up and got a shower. I was almost dressed when my husband called, "Don't take a shower!" Too late now...but apparently the sewer line had been acting up last night. Sometimes it gets clogged.

He spent most of the next hour crouching over the cleanout drain with a drain snake while Little Brother and I ran up and down stairs flushing toilets on command.

Middle Sister admitted that she'd forgotten to hand in her registration papers, check and bus form (due last Friday.)

My neighbor, who always drops off her unused coupon inserts, left them in my mailbox, and the wind carried them out of the mailbox and into the shrubbery, the lilac bushes, the fence, and the snow.

Middle Sister's bus was so late that I wound up driving her, only to pass the bus when we went around the corner.

It's definitely a glass-half-empty sort of day.

Can I have a do-over?

I think the best thing I can do right now is change out of my "grubby" clothes and go over to church. Then, I can start my day again. Hopefully this fresh start will be a good start.

Calendar FAIL

I'm usually good at matters involving the calendar. I've got the family calendar in the kitchen, my planner on my desk when I'm home and with me when I'm not, and a church calendar (for reference purposes) hanging above my desk.

People depend on me to be good at calendar stuff. Mostly that's my family, but sometimes it's people outside the family. The folk group, for example. Well, actually, they depend on me to be good at church stuff, but sometimes the calendar is a big part of that.

With every change of seasons in our parish, our music director assigns us to use a different Mass setting. The one we use for that small bit of Ordinary Time between Christmas and Lent is the least familiar, since we only use it at that one time of year. We don't know the Gloria for that Mass setting yet, so we've been using one from a different, more-familiar Mass. One recent week at folk group practice, one musician wondered if we should work on this other Gloria. "Why bother?" I asked. "Lent is in a couple of weeks, and we won't need it then. Plus, with the new Mass settings coming up, we won't be using this one next year."

Then I was reading Sarah's blog yesterday and I discovered that Lent is still FOUR WEEKS away!

Ooops!

Solo

Yesterday, I was the only one in my family at the 12:00 Mass. Nobody was sick--everyone else had gone to other Masses, at other parishes, due to commitments they had.

Usually we're all at Mass together, though we don't all sit together. I'm in the folk group. When Big Brother is home from college, he plays bass and/or mandolin with us. Little Brother usually sits with us and sings. Middle Sister is an altar server, and since Father isn't going to let Little Brother serve until he's a fourth-grader, Middle Sister remains on the job. It's rare that anyone else ever shows up to serve. TheDad is the only one of us who's "in the pew" at Mass. But he spent years and years and years on pew duty with the kids so that I could play in the folk group.

But now Big Brother is back at school, where he's playing the bass at the Campus Ministry Masses. Middle Sister sings in her school choir, and they were invited to sing at a Mass at one of the sending parishes. And Little Brother is in his school choir as well; on the first Sunday of the month, they sing at one of the parish Masses.

I notice my slowly-emptying nest most when Sundays roll around. Even more so than mealtimes, Sunday Mass has always been a family occasion. I am glad that all of my children are willingly participating--and giving of their time and talent--at Mass each week. But I miss those Sundays when we all would participate together, from various parts of the church.

A Bit of Wisdom

When I was growing up, we began every Saturday morning with a trip to my sister's allergist so she could get an allergy shot. That's a lot of time spent hanging out in waiting rooms reading Highlights for Children and waiting for my lollipop (Dr. Goldstein always let my sister take 3 lollipops after her shot--one for each of us.)

A framed poster with this poem hung in that waiting room. I guess it was there so the parents would have something to read. I remember reading it too. This morning, a friend of mine on Facebook posted it.

If I were Queen, I would decree that all parents receive a poster of this poem and be required to place it where they could read it regularly. There's a longer version, but this is the one I remember from my childhood.

Children Learn What They Live
By Dorothy Law Nolte


If children live with criticism,
They learn to condemn.
If children live with hostility,
They learn to fight.
If children live with ridicule,
They learn to be shy.
If children live with shame,
They learn to feel guilty.
If children live with encouragement,
They learn confidence.
If children live with tolerance,
They learn to be patient.
If children live with praise,
They learn to appreciate.
If children live with acceptance,
They learn to love.
If children live with approval,
They learn to like themselves.
If children live with honesty,
They learn truthfulness.
If children live with security,
They learn to have faith in themselves and others.
If children live with friendliness,
They learn the world is a nice place in which to live.

Copyright © 1972/1975 by Dorothy Law Nolte

Availability is a Gift

The other day, Stay at Home Mom at Work wrote about the gift of availability.

It's a rather long essay, but one well worth your time. To whet your appetite:

how grateful I was to be able to do this for [my daughter]. I was able to spend all morning in this pursuit. Not all Moms can do that. Some work - in various ways for a paycheck or in volunteering positions that don't allow for spontaneous adventures such as this one.

This has gotten me thinking a lot about availability, and my attitude toward the demands that my family places on my time.

It's pretty telling, right there, that I consider it "my" time. As if I own it or something.

After I got both the kids and their lunches onto the school bus this morning, I had about an hour to tidy up the kitchen, start some laundry, and wrap up the package that needed to be mailed. My husband (AKA Mr. Cubmaster) realized that he would be very late to work if he waited for the Scout Store to open so he could buy the Scouting awards that were needed for tonight's meeting. So I said I would do it if he gave me the list. I wasn't entirely gracious about it, and I heard myself not being gracious, so I switched into "joke mode" and told him that this was going to cost him a couple of Milky Ways.

He was good with that, and even handed me the Wawa gift card that was in his wallet so I could buy those Milky Ways as I ran errands.

Off I went, to daily Mass, the post office, the Scout store (where the manager observed that my husband owes me a nice dinner in exchange for today's errand...he should be glad he's getting off easy with those Milky Ways), Wawa (for said Milky Ways), the Big Box Home Supply Store for light bulbs and furnace filters, and Chick-Fil-A for a gift card that I have to send to school as part of Little Brother's class prize for a fund-raiser event. I returned home at 11:30, had lunch, got my work done as well as some laundry, and then got busy sorting out the awards for each of our 30+ Cub Scouts. Beads, belt loops, badges and pins all went into the appropriate bags. I was going to be done soon!

And then the phone rang. It was Middle Sister. Her friend had missed the after-school bus. Her friend's mom doesn't drive, and her grandmother wasn't around to take her home. Could I give her friend a ride?

My first impulse was to refuse. Was she crazy? Didn't I have enough to do today? But I realized that I could pick up Middle Sister's friend when I was on my way to get Little Brother after choir practice. Since her friend lives fairly close to Little Brother's school, I could drop her off then.

And that's what I did. I found out later that this friend had missed the bus because right after school, her boyfriend broke up with her. I was glad that I was available to get her home. Middle Sister, in the middle of a track workout, saw me in the school driveway and gave me a big wave.

So I went back home to finish bagging up those Cub Scout awards. And I wasn't resenting that task anymore. I was glad that I was available to do this to help out my husband. My freelance work and my volunteering commitments did not prevent me from helping my husband and my daughter's friend. That last load of laundry will still be there tomorrow, and I'll get it done then. Provided, of course, that I'm available.

Worth Reading

R.C. Mommy: Holding on for a hero: "To develop my Catholic identity, or to develop it in my family, requires intentional living. It is not enough to float through my life..."

I'd like to put one of those little sidebar thingies in my blog so I could just insert great links when I read them. Unfortunately, the only one I found requires Google Reader, and I use FeedDemon.

So I'll have to share this way for the moment.

Go and read Amy's post. Great food for thought, and an excellent book recommendation. I've read some of this book--but not enough of it--this was a good push in the right direction.

(Actually, when I clicked the "blog this" link on Amy's post, I wound up sharing this on my recipe blog. DUH...once again, a technology fail for me.)