Category: Catholic Families

7 Quick Takes: Catholic Family Fun

Land of the 700 Takes.

1.

Today for my Quick Takes I’m reviewing Sarah Reinhard’s new book, Catholic Family Fun.  This is a stop on Sarah’s virtual book tour, so she should be lurking around the combox ready to answer any questions you have.

FYI, Sarah is not only a super-friendly person, she is also an extrovert, which means that her life as a writer is made tolerable by finding people to chat with.  So say “Hi Sarah!”.  She’ll be excited.

2.

This is what the book looks like:

It’s about 140 pages, paperback, nice sturdy glossy cover.  It’s designed to float around your house and be abused.

3.

What’s inside?

You know how women’s magazines have those little articles about fun things to do with your family?  This is like 10 years of those ideas all in one place.  Only you are spared those obnoxious photos of pristine toaster ovens and closets organized by that sect of hermits who take a vow to own nothing but three pieces of splashy, sassy, ready-for-spring ensembles to pair with their strappy heels.  Also, no perfume ads.

Instead you get page after page of practical, realistic ideas for unplugged family activities that you can customize to match your kids’ ages and interests.  The chapters are organized by types of activities (crafts, meals, outdoor adventures, etc.), and there are several easy-to-read indexes in the back to help you quickly find the ones that match your budget and energy level.  Most of the suggestions are either free, or involve money you were going to spend anyway.   (You are going to eat today, right?)

Other than the chapters on prayer and on the saints, the activities themselves can be purely fun family time, or they can be explicitly tied to the Catholic faith.   Every activity includes suggestions on how to make the faith connection.

4.

What if you aren’t crafty? Don’t panic on the crafts, there aren’t that many and they are very low-key.  Indeed, I’d say this is the perfect book for people who don’t do glitter glue, foam art, or anything involving popsicle sticks, ever.  Did I mention Sarah R. is a real mom of young children, with a farm, and a writing job, and . . . you get the picture.  You may find yourself wanting an internet connection to pull off a few of these activities (I see you have access to one, very good), but no glue gun will ever be needed.

What if you are, in fact, the grumpy, curmudgeonly type? See the next section.  I advise letting your kids pick the activities.  That way you never need fear you’ve gotten all goofy and relaxed for nothing.  Also you could tell the kids you aren’t going to do Chapters 1 and 2 yourself, but you’ll give them five bucks if they’ll just be quiet while your finish reading the paper.  (Um, wait a minute.  No, that’s not how the book’s supposed to work.  Oops.)  Chapters 3-9 are Curmudgeon-Safe, though the one idea about a backyard circus makes me a little nervous . . .

5.

Who could use this book?  Three groups of  people come to mind, and last was a surprise to me, but it’s true:

1.  Parents, grandparents, and other relatives.

  • If you’re trying to think up new ways to connect to the kids, and get out of the rut of doing the same old things.
  • If you have a long summer vacation ahead, with stir-crazy children and no money for expensive camps and activities.
  • Or if you didn’t have a satisfyingly Catholic childhood, and you want to find ways to share and practice your faith without being all stodgy and dour about it.

2.  Kids.  My daughter is fighting me for custody of our copy.  The book is eminently readable, so you really can hand it to a late-elementary or older child, and say, “Pick something out for us to do Saturday.”  I like that because then the onus is on the kids to decide which activity sounds fun — and I’m always surprised by what kids come up with when given the choice.

3.  Catechists, VBS volunteers, scout leaders, and anyone else charged with keeping a group of kids busy for an hour or two.  Some of the activities will only work in a family setting, but very many of them are well-suited to using in a classroom.  The suggestions for faith tie-ins make this an awesome resource for religious ed and VBS.  If your parish doesn’t have money for a high-priced pre-packaged program with talking pandas and cheesey chipmunk videos, you could seriously just go through this book and pick out activities to assemble a home-grown series of your own.

6.

You know who loves a good VBS program?  Allie Hathaway.  It’s Friday, so we’re praying for her.  And hey, offer up a quick one for Sarah Reinhard’s intentions as well.  Thanks!

7.

What else do you want to know?  I’ve wrestled the book out of my daughter’s hands, so I’m happy to look stuff up and answer questions.   Sarah’s around here somewhere, and if she doesn’t get to you today, she’s a very reliable combox-attender, so feel free to ask her questions as well.

You can also take a look at the Catholic Family Fun Facebook page, where people are sharing ideas, and the Catholic Family Fun website at Pauline Media, where if you click around there are a pile of useful resources in case maybe you don’t know any camp songs or g-rated knock-knock jokes.

Click the picture to find out where the book tour is going next.

PS:  This and a package of pre-cooked bacon would make a great Mother’s Day gift.

**************************************

Updated to toss in three bits of full disclosure, which together give the most accurate picture:

7.1) Pauline Media sent me a review copy.

7.2) You might have caught on, Sarah & I are friends, and perhaps you’ve noticed we work together at the CWG blog.  Which means that if she wrote a lousy book, I just wouldn’t review it.  I’m very grateful she doesn’t write lousy books, because that saves us a lot of awkward moments.

7.3) See “free book” above.  I gave a copy of this book to my DRE, who is a mom and grandma of 10 bazillion children, and always griping observing that all the grandkids do is play Angry Birds.  I knew she’d love to pass it around her family, and I was thrilled to see she could use it for religious ed ideas too.  But you know what?  I did not give her my free copy.  See, that’s what I would have done if this was a so-so book.  Instead, I paid cash to buy her a brand new copy of her own.

Hey and a gratuitous 7.4: Let’s just clarify: If you want a collection of pom-pom art ideas, this is not your book.

Vocation and Holiness

This morning as I stumbled down the hall, coffee in hand, the fourth grader handed me A Bridge to Terabithia.  “Mom,” she warned me, “don’t let anybody read this for school.  It is terrible.  It has very foul language.”

“Oh?”  I had read it way back in elementary school, but hadn’t looked at it since.  I couldn’t really remember what was in the book.

“Yes.  They use the d-word.  And the parents say things like ‘crap’ and ‘crud’ and ‘you stupid’.  And that’s just in one chapter.”

Ah.  Duly warned.  I thanked her for the head’s up.

1.  Simcha Fisher writes:

We’re so used to seeing our own children, so used to the idea that they’re under our care, that we sometimes forget that the angels rejoice when a young person goes out into the world armed with truth and love, instead of going forth with their hearts cramped and crabbed by an acceptance of abortion.  This is where the battle is fought: in individual hearts.  Each abortion is a tragedy because it ends an individual life—but each heart that is taught how to love is a true and eternal victory.

Yes, raising our children lovingly is commonplace, a duty, nothing new.  So what?  It’s still a big deal.  It’s still the way to save souls.  This is the great thing about being part of the Culture of Life:  everything counts.  You don’t have to save your receipts!  Your good works have been noted, and they will not go to waste.

2.  Bearing reminds me, I’m not the only mom who got paid to go to graduate school, in order to prepare for a rewarding career in the ultra-non-profit sector.  I don’t typically feel guilty about this.  Back when I was applying for fellowships, I assumed I’d ultimately end up in some kind of field that was a natural extension of my start in accounting — maybe moved out of staff and into operations, or teaching accounting 101 at the community college, or who knows what — who can really predict how a career will turn?  I also knew that I wanted to be a mom, and that I was intentionally picking a field that lent itself to momness.  Ditching it all in order to stay home and raise kids?  If only I could be so lucky.

At the fellowship interviews, I was asked, “What do you see yourself doing in five years?  Ten years?”

I answered honestly. “Solving problems.”

Which is what I do.

3.  This week at the Catholic Writers Guild blog I’ve been shuffling around the schedule to get all the mundane writer-talk posts pushed off until after Easter.  I didn’t want Holy Week to be chit-chat as usually.   But Sarah Reinhard’s post for today, even though it’s sort of a blogging post, it’s really a Holy Week post:  Remember Your Priorities.

–> Hey and real quick please pray for Sarah’s very urgent prayer request for a family member with a scary, likely life-threatening diagnosis on the way.  Thanks.

4.  You know what?  I just love this photo so much.  I was thrilled with Julie D. picked it out for her 1,000 Words post.  Because I just like to look at it.

5. Holiness versus Weirdness.  It’s a constant battle.  I spend a lot of time just trying to figure out how to live life.  I feel stupid about this, because, well, not knowing how to live your life has got to be one of the marks of stupidity, right?  But at the same time, I live in a culture that doesn’t know how to live life, so I remind myself it’s not exactly shocking that my adulthood be devoted to figuring out what I ought to be doing instead.

And I’m not alone.  Which makes reading Catholic Lifestyle Lit of a decade ago so amusing, because the holiness-fads of years gone by shout out like a pair of parachute pants.  Which is why my children in ten years will be laughing about this over Thanksgiving dinner:

When I wrote about fasting from artificial light in the Register a while back, I got a ton of interesting responses. One of my favorites was from a dad who told me about this family tradition that they’ve been doing for 30 years:

We turn off the light when we leave for Holy Thursday Mass and don’t turn them on again until we return from the Saturday Easter Vigil at around midnight on Saturday.

We got the idea when our parish turned off the lights and had us exit in silence on Holy Thursday. And we entered at the Easter Vigil in darkness which continued until the Gloria. And, of course, Good Friday services were held during the daytime so lighting was not a main focus. So we got the idea to practically “live” this period when Jesus the “light of the world” was taken away from us.

I think we might try this this year. Anyone else going to give it a shot?

My kids will the story of how I read this idea at some Catholic lady’s blog, and when I told Jon, not only did he like the idea, he proposed we just flip all the breakers in the house except the one for the kitchen.

So yeah.  Weird.  I know we are.  I know it kids.

6.  But listen, weird isn’t all bad.  My garden is awesome.  If by “awesome” we mean: I like it.  And I was sitting in it this spring, and realized that Margaret Realy’s book about Prayer Gardens had come true.  I read it, followed the instructions, and wow, it worked.  Highly recommended if you want a little quiet garden-y oasis, and need some ideas about how to make it work.

And with that I’ll cut out the rest of the chit-chat and go be all vocational.  Have a great week, and I’ll see you back here come Easter or so.

Curmudgeon Gets Comeuppance, Enjoys Cute-Jesus Book

Here’s my weird day:

1) Dropped kids off at Grandma’s house.

2) Stopped in at local Catholic bookstore to say hello to owner, give update on catechist booklet progress, pretend I was there to buy books.

2a) Of course I knew I’d find books to buy, so I wasn’t dissembling.

3) My friend Sarah Reinhard’s lenten booklet, Welcome Risen Jesus, was smack in the center of the Books-for-Lent display.  Yay for Sarah!

4) Well it isn’t expensive, and my DRE will like it, so I pick up a copy.

5) I read it.

See, here’s the situation.  Look at this cover:

Do you not see the problem?   I’ll give you a second to observe.

.

.

.

Cute-Jesus.

I am a curmudgeon.  I’ve been grumpy and old at least since the age of reason, and I expect much, much earlier than that.  My favorite people in the world are 80-something and crotchety.  [They keep dying.  I have to make new friends pretty often.  Luckily other people get promoted.  There seems to be something magic about the big 8-0 that really brings out the critical thinking skills in a new way.  It gets even better at 90, but not everyone makes it that far.  The world can only bear so much common sense, I guess.]

My favorite weather is foggy.  Silent.  Nobody around.  My religious art runs to icons and creepy gothic statuary.  This is a book cover: Gargoyles.

I don’t do Cute-Jesus.

Happy?  Okay sure.  Friendly?  Yes.  I like people.  Even cute people.  Jesus loves cute people as much as He loves anyone else.  But I would not see Cute-Jesus and think, “Look at that cover!  There’s a book I need to read.”

And that’s awkward, because it turns out?  It’s a book I need to read.

I should not have been surprised by this.  I know Sarah R.  Yes,  she is undeniably cuter and perkier than me. But she’s on the mark.  Head on straight, clear-thinking, no-holds-barred normal Catholic lady.  Of course she’d write a great book.  And if it takes Cute-Jesus to get her message into the hands of people who need it, bless those Liguori artists who make it happen.

I have commissioned my children to make a Curmudgeon-Approved stamp to put on the front of these types of things, to assist any of my readers who might have been likewise thrown off by the artwork.  In the meantime, here’s what you need to know:

  • There’s a meditation for each day of Lent and the octave of Easter.  Practical, no-nonsense Catholic spirituality.
  • Each day comes with a different suggested prayer, personal sacrifice, and act of charity.
  • I’d say it’s best suited to maybe ages 5-and-up.

The suggested sacrifices are very Thérèse.  Don’t complain one day.  Drink only water one day. Sleep without your pillow, and offer up your discomfort.  I really really like the changing up of the sacrifices, because it gives some realistic focus for those of us who want to do everything, but actually we’d completely stink at even doing a couple things all Lent long.

It’s a Lent for normal people.  I love it.  I repent of ever thinking grumpy thoughts about cartoon-y Bible-story pictures.

Okay never mind I did not really repent I am not that holy.  But seriously.  Good book. 100% buy-recommend for readers who want some good solid achieveable Lenten goals, no saccharine, no goofiness, just reliable practical advice grounded in every thing that one particularly sensible parish priest you had* was trying to tell you all those years.   You could cover it with some nice gargoyle stickers if that would help you.

UPDATE: The boy has applied the stamp of curmudgeon-approval:

 

*He’s 80 now.  Or was for a while.  Or looks younger but actually, yes, he’s fully grown-up on the inside, don’t let the smooth skin fool you.

7 Quick Takes: Friends, Romans, Republicans

The other people are talking about things more interesting than politics. Click to go see.

1.

I watched the debates last night.  Seriously entertaining.  Much more fun than any political debate I’ve seen in ages.  Also, enlightening.

2.

Here’s the thing: I live in a cave.  I don’t enjoy TV the way other people do.  So I had never, ever, seen any of the four candidates speak on TV.  [I’d heard Santorum live once, but in a completely different context.]  Now that I have seen them, many mysteries are solved.

3.

For example: Newt Gingrich.  As a child in metro-DC in the ’80’s, yes, we talked about politics in the backseat of the car as our parents shuffled us around the beltway to youth group activities.  I remember then, that Newt was this creepy, untrustworthy politician guy.

[I also remember my dad being livid, livid, at the evisceration of Poindexter.  Who until scandals broke I had known of only as ‘a dad of one of the one the boy scouts’.  Apparently a super nice guy in regular life.]

So, Newt.  When I heard he was running for president this year, my thoughts were:

  1. He’s still alive?
  2. I mean sure, Strom-Thurmond-Alive, of course.  But Running-for-President-Alive?  It was a stretch.  I guess when you are a kid, people seem so much older than they turn out to be later.
  3. He’s this shifty beltway insider named after a reptile an amphibian.  What is the appeal?

4.

My goodness that man is charming!  CHARMING.  Did you see him open that debate?  He’s brilliant.  Utterly untrustworthy, anyone who is that smooth.  That loveable on stage.  But now I get it.

In order of Charming:

  1. Gingrich.
  2. Romney.
  3. Santorum.
  4. Paul.

So if you get your politics from TV and not from print, yes, it all suddenly makes very much sense.

5.

But you know what makes me angry?  Back last century, everyone knew that torture was wrong.  It was the stuff of satire.  Now, suddenly, it is very difficult to find a candidate who opposes torture.  You can expect to be treated as daft and unsophisticated if you insist your president be the non-torturing type.

People want charming.  Kingly.  From last Friday’s Mass reading:

6And the word was displeasing in the eyes of Samuel, that they should say: Give us a king, to judge us. And Samuel prayed to the Lord.

7And the Lord said to Samuel: Hearken to the voice of the people in all that they say to thee. For they have not rejected thee, but me, that I should not reign over them.

8According to all their works, they have done from the day that I brought them out of Egypt until this day: as they have forsaken me, and served strange gods, so do they also unto thee.

9Now therefore hearken to their voice: but yet testify to them, and foretell them the right of the king, that shall reign over them.

10Then Samuel told all the words of the Lord to the people that had desired a king of him,

11And said: This will be the right of the king, that shall reign over you: He will take your sons, and put them in his chariots, and will make them his horsemen, and his running footmen to run before his chariots,

12And he will appoint of them to be his tribunes, and centurions, and to plough his fields, and to reap his corn, and to make him arms and chariots.

13Your daughters also he will take to make him ointments, and to be his cooks, and bakers.

14And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your best oliveyards, and give them to his servants.

15Moreover he will take the tenth of your corn, and of the revenues of your vineyards, to give his eunuchs and servants.

16Your servants also and handmaids, and your goodliest young men, and your asses he will take away, and put them to his work.

17Your flocks also he will tithe, and you shall be his servants.

18And you shall cry out in that day from the face of the king, whom you have chosen to yourselves. and the Lord will not hear you in that day, because you desired unto yourselves a king.

We insist our president be “presidential”.  Impressive.  Someone the Europeans and the Iranians will respect.  So that’s what we’ll get.

6.

Allie Hathaway.  You know what to do.

7.

If you want regular normal-people election coverage of the SC Primaries, of course you would never read this blog.  Instead you’d visit Brad Warthen.  Whom I love the way my dad loved Poindexter, so just you be quiet (here*) if you don’t like his politics.

 

 

 

*Rant away at his place.  He’ll love it.  Plus my FIL arrives tonight, so if you post here for the first time and your post gets stuck in moderation, it is not because I hate you, nor because I fell into a bottomless chasm.  I’m just busy seeing flesh-and-blood people this weekend.  Also, voting.  I’ll catch back up with the Internet come Monday or so.

3.5 Time Outs: Catholic Insomnia

Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, who reminds you, Men Can Blog Too.

Click to read Manly Topics.

1.

Dark pleasures of homeschooling parents:  Listening from the other room as your spouse valiantly tries to help a child with his homework . . . and noting that your spouse, too, is on the verge of breaking into swear words.

 

2.

Who took the dry-erase marker off my refrigerator?  I need it because . . .

3.

Middle of the dark I wake up with busy-brain.  I hear the neighbor’s truck outside.  Must be getting near dawn.  Which means: Stay still.  Do not go to living room and read The Doctors of the Church for a bit to settle down.  DO NOT GET A DRINK OF WATER.

Because: I need an undisturbed waking temp. Need.

Need.

***

I lay there a while.  I wonder if the truck I heard was not my neighbor but the people who go around breaking into cars.  I wonder if those people ever did read the Teacher’s Manual they stole last time.  I wonder if the SuperHusband set his car alarm so that we’ll know when the car-breakers are opening his minivan whose side doors only open when the vehicle is locked and the alarms are set.  I wonder what the car-breakers will think of the giant load of junk filling the back of my truck.  Do they want old children’s games with missing pieces?

No, it is not the car-breakers, because the neighbor starts his truck up again and begins moving it around the yard.  He does this.  He loves backing up.  Precisely.  He has to back up many times.

And then he drives off, and it is silent.  And still very dark.  I worry: Is it actually close to waking-up time?  Or is it the middle of the night and my neighbor is doing his late-night things that he sometimes does?  Nuts if I’ve been laying here all quiet and still with no drink of water and no prospect of sleep, and it’s actually 1 am and not 6 am.  I wonder why I have no clock on my side of the bed.  About three times a year, I want one.

***

I give up.  Grab thermometer, head to living room.  Yay: 6:45.  Double-Yay:  99.0.

One of these years my kids will understand why they sometimes find summer-weather temperatures written on the door of the fridge in the middle of January.

3.5

Roman Holiday.  Of course.

7 Quick Takes: 40 Days

At least it isn't Saturday. I could have done worse.

1.

The bookshelves are in!  People say my library method makes sense!  Or at least haven’t complained!  The countertops still need to be finished.  Photo coming sometime after that.

2.

If you have an e-mail sitting in my inbox, yes I will reply soon.  I’ve been sidetracked by regular life.

3.

Cleaning my house.  Yes, really.  That’s what I’ve been doing all week.

4.

Because Lent is only 40 days away.  And this year for Lent, our family is going to Clean Up After Ourselves.

5.

It’s not that we’re slobs.  It’s that I can write a sentence beginning with, “It’s not that we’re slobs,” and no one senses any kind of irony or sarcasm there.  They await some other explanation, thinking skeptically, “This better be good.”

But let’s just clarify right now:  I could never ever qualify for one of those slovenliness reality shows.   We do like order and cleanliness.  We do.   Almost obsessively, in some pursuits.  But housekeeping?  There’s always another project that’s just a little bit more pressing.

You know all those movies where they tell you to slow down and enjoy life?  Or spend more time with your family?  Or focus on __________ that really counts?  We should be banned from those movies.  We need the movie where the family-centered protagonists have an amazing revelation about their misplaced priorities, and learn it might be okay to put dishes straight into the dishwasher after dinner.

6.

But you can wait just a second before you put away that glass, and say a quick prayer for Allie Hathaway.

7.

So we’re having a Carnival of Cleanliness, in an effort to make Lent less penitential than it otherwise would be.   You remember that line in A Mother’s Rule of Life, where she mentions  in passing that before you begin, make sure there’s A Place For Everything, and Everything In It’s Place?  Yeah, we’ve been working on that sentence for half a decade now.   And we’re close.  So close.

3.5 Time Outs: Girl Topics

Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, who is just going to have to shut his eyes, or else pretend he’s a mom-blogger.  Why isn’t there a vast network of dad-bloggers?  Because what exactly is the guy equivalent of these topics below?

We're still cleaning up after the party here. Click for links to the responsible people.

1.

The  in-laws called to find out why I’d posted a link to the Baby Name Wizard in Facebook.  Was there something they should know?  Yes.  My nine-year-old had to write a piece of historical fiction as part of her Caddie Woodlawn literature study.  She picked depression-era.  I pointed her to the name wizard because I had this sneaking feeling “Kaitlyn” wasn’t such a period name.   She’s found her new tool.  Those graphs.  They are addictive.

2.

Take, read.  Betty Beguiles has a free e-booklet out: Dressing with Intention.  I completely 100% recommend it.  Excellent advice for building a workable wardrobe that you can afford.  Accountant-approved.   Short, readable, encouraging, spot-on absolutely right.  You cannot get better than that.   Stop now and click the link, then come back later to finish here.

3.

My friend Sandra sent me these pics:

 

She’s thinking of sewing her wedding dress along these lines.  Is that not seriously cool?  I told her to do it.  No question. She has serious Jane-power going on, so it will be fabulous.

(Do you understand how relieved I am when I learn that someone I really like is also a Jane Austen fan?  I mean, yes, I have a couple very dear friends who don’t get the Jane-thing, and we adapt and focus on our common ground.  But see, this is why there are more mom-bloggers.  Because we can talk not just about Jane Austen, but about dressing like Jane Austen, and how our friendships are affected by Jane Austen . . . you begin to see.  Football is not the same.  Not.)

3.5

Not always, but sometimes, when your daughter is in the Pit of Oppression over things that she can’t control and really are upsetting, even though no one else seems to understand that, but being nine is Not As Easy As People Say, the best thing is to put the littles to bed, pop a giant pot of popcorn, fire up the DVD player and watch

 

 

7 Quick Takes: Not Knowing

The other minions have been busy.

1.

The bookshelves in the living room are halfway installed.  (The “during” picture is too depressing.  Sorry no photo.)  SuperHusband complains that my method for organizing books is incomprehensible.  I was determined to load these new shelves in some orderly way that even an engineer could understand.  I’m already having trouble.  Hrmph.

2.

We found a long lost library book!  Someone had helpfully shelved Changes for Kit in the magazine file for Invention and Technology.  I don’t know why I didn’t think to look there.

3.

Do you know what I hate about submitting work to editors I don’t know?  Wondering if they even received it.  New experience for me this year.  In the past I’ve always written for people who had already hired me to do the writing.  People you could just e-mail or pop into their office and ask, “Did you get my thing? Let me know when you’ve had a chance to look at it.”  And it’s not pestering, because those people know you and wanted your work and told you exactly what they wanted.  They aren’t dreading looking to see what you’ve sent.

(Strangers rightly dread.  With people you don’t know? You just don’t know.)

So of course the solution to the wait-a-thon is to move on to the next project, which is easy enough when you are too busy anyway.  And then it’s helpful to already have a back-up plan for “What will I do if this editor isn’t interested?”.  Again, pretty easy.

But at 5AM when you wake up with a busy brain, and you feel bad about always using The Doctors of the Church as your insomnia remedy, because you know it’s going to influence your book review unfairly?    That’s when the weird fears kick in:  “What if my submission got lost in the spam filter?”  “What if I accidentally did something that causes me to look like a completely different kind of idiot than the one I actually am?  Because the one I am, an editor can work with, but maybe I came across like a different, less-manageable kind?”

The solution to that is to think up more likely and less ominous reasons, such as, “The editor has a lot of other work to do.”

But I also think up other things, like, “Maybe his farm was hit by a tornado,” or, “Maybe she’s come down with a pox and won’t be able to work for a month.”  Which leads to a weird prayer life revolving around things like, “If my editor’s house has fallen into a sinkhole, please let everyone be okay, and console him with Your peace, and let my file be safely stored at the office where he’ll eventually get to it sometime this spring.”

UPDATE:  But it is so lovely when you get an e-mail back saying, “My house did not fall into a sinkhole.”  (Actually it said, “Thanks, got it, we’ll get back to you.” )

4.

My typoese is getting weirder than ever.  I begin to suspect a rogue “auto-correct” function.

5.

Mr. Boy’s been having a hard time waking up lately.  Winter + Night Owl + Early Adolescence + School Is Not Fun = Low Motivation.  SuperHusband has started rousing him from bed to take the dog for a brisk walk as soon as it’s fully light out.  The first day he went straight back to bed after and slept two more hours.  Second day I cleared a work area for him in front of a window that gets direct sun all morning.   He hates it.  But it works.

Also I am working on dimming the lights after dinner so it isn’t so bright inside at a night.  Jon bought the house in the mid-90’s.  Early this century he managed to diagram most of the wiring.  I am still being surprised by which switch does what.

6.

Good news! Allie Hathaway’s gotten 2nd and 3rd opinions that offer a much better prognosis.  (And they agree with each other and seem to be the real thing. Yay.)   Alleluia.  Thank you for praying.  Don’t stop.

7.

Why is it that we act as if we’re omniscient, when we know that we are not?  We kick ourselves for guessing wrong about this investment or that career choice, or the new outfit or the right haircut.  Even when we had honestly made the effort to make a good decision.  Even when we cannot know the outcome of our decision, because it involves events beyond our control, or variables that can only be known with time.

And then we are mortified by the ignorance and immaturity our younger selves — selves who had no way of knowing what can only be learned by time and experience.  And note:  Those of us still breathing  are, still, younger selves.

It’s nonsense.  Bad habit.  Rooted in bad theology no less.  I wonder if it’s easier to quit than the complaining thing?

My Offspring.

Me:  Get your work done while I take a shower.  I’m going to do the check-off at 2pm, because I have the catechist meeting tonight, so I can’t check you off after dinner.

Child: I want to go!

Me: ?  Um.  Why would you want to go to a catechist meeting?

Child: I want to hear you talk.

Me:  You hear me talk all day long.

Child: I want to hear about catechist stuff.

Me:  The DRE might switch plans and not have me talk.

Child: There might be soda.

[Ah.  Yes.  Now you sound like a normal child.  Whew.]

Me: Yes, there will almost certainly be soda.  They are serving pizza.

Child: Pleeaaase can I go?

Me: It’s out of the question if your homework is not done.

–> Child panics, drops toys, runs to desk, starts working diligently.

Is it the soda or the catechist talk?  I don’t know.  If she gets the homework done, I guess I let her come?  Or tell her she can stay home and watch Anne of Avonlea instead.  That would work.

7 Quick Takes: Advent was good.

Coffee was lost and now is found. Go read.

Lately I’ve encountered a lot of talk about Holiday Burnout.  People who are just sick and tired of Christmas.  People really struggling to feel the Advent-Love.  People who know they’ll go to bed on the 25th exhausted, disappointed, and thinking, “Is that all?  It ends like this?”

You know what?  I’ve had a wonderful Advent!  Peaceful.  Joyful.  Can’t-wait-for-Christmas.  Genuinely looking forward to 12 Days of All Things Good.  Here’s what it looked like:

1.

We had The Plague.  Not a really bad plague.   Not the kind that depopulates cities or disfigures previously-beautiful people.  Just a day or two of  “Hey, death seems like  a nice idea!” and then several weeks of non-contagious laying around, sleeping all day, and sticking to activities that require no lung usage.   So visions of bustling around doing holiday things?  Out the window.  Gone.  No-Can-Do.  Didn’t happen.

2.

Dumb luck.  For reasons that have nothing to do with  my own clever planning, 80% of our regular weekly activities finished for the year by the first week of December.  80% less driving around. 80% less herding cranky children.  80% less repenting of uncharitable thoughts towards stupid careless clueless other drivers.

And then back in early November  I had recklessly committed a labor-intensive Advent catechist-project; we had to cancel it when we realized it would conflict with The Immaculate Conception.   Good thing, since I was barely standing up straight for my last RE class December 7th.

(Shocker: The kids were NUTS that night.  Pure crazy-power that class.  They can smell weakness.)

3.

I chose not to over-commit. We went to a few of our very favorite (or very necessary) holiday events.  But the rest, even though they promised to be good and wonderful, we chose to skip.  I don’t like long, loud, chaotic festivities.  I know other people love that stuff.  Cookies! St. Nick! Bags of Trinkets!  I do not love it.  We skipped it.  Everyone is happy.

4.

We’ve hit our Christmas / Advent decorating sweet spot.  It took us a few years to figure out what this looks like for us.  When does the tree go up?  When do we decorate it?  What about lights and colors and all that stuff?  I know it is the pasttime of a special kind of Catholic to agonize about these things.  I agree it is silly to lay down some Universal Law Of When The Tree May Be Lit.

But I think it is important to self-examine just a little.  To try things out and see how they feel.  Our culture flat out stinks at observing Advent.  If we want to do it, we’re on our own for figuring out how it’s done.  It is a happy year when we the members of the family can agree that we’ve found an approach that works for us, and hits the right balance between preparation, penitence, and joyful expectation.

Double-bonus for your resident Complainer:  I totally 100% approved of the way my parish handled Advent decorations this year.  Not that it’s any of my business to have an opinion on these things.  But it was nice all the same.

5.

I live in a cave.  I don’t watch TV.  I don’t shop.  And every year from Thanksgiving to New Year’s I turn off the radio, because I’d rather have silence than cheesy holiday songs.  These are not due to my amazing virtue and spirit of penance.  I have very little virtue, and a purely intellectual spirit of penance.  These are self-indulgences.  They are me doing what I prefer to do.   But they conveniently shield me from the onslaught of Giftmas Propaganda and bad (Christian) or blasphemous (secular)  music.

So I totally get it, if you who bravely suffer these things have lost your Advent Love after enough weeks of torment.  I would too.  I am grateful for my sheltered life.

6.

Don’t forget to pray for Allie Hathaway.

7.

Jen Fulwiler at the Register ponders, “Why no Catholics among the top 100 Mom Bloggers?”  My answer is this:  We don’t do that.  If our homes are all in order, with lovely decorations,  Craft A Day, and beautiful meals on the table every night . . . that’s our cue to have another baby. 

We don’t live showcase lives that we can peddle on the internet to those longing for Housewife Wonderland.   We focus on our highest  priorities, and we let the rest be someone else’s calling.  Our lives will never be magazine pretty.  My house is not that clean, the only reason I have baked goods lined up is that I trust the nine-year-old with brownie mix and I wasn’t being strict enough about math homework, and we didn’t even get to sing this year, because, well, plague.

We lives our lives poured out. Full and running over.  Everything that is not essential to our calling, we set aside.  And in the process we do not end up beautiful, famous, or rich.  But we do get joy and peace.