Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, who is also taking it easy today. Post-holiday light blogging. But scroll down he’s got some interesting stuff there — Where is the Daddy War? caught my attention. I’ll come back to serious topics a different week.
Click and be amazed.
1.
This morning I emerged from the bedroom, and found an assortment of children in PJ’s huddled around Sesame Street. Not surprising. An odd collection of blankets and pillows and trash paper spread about the coffee table. Not surprising. My five-year-old sitting there with paper in her mouth. *That* I had never seen before.
2.
“Why do you have paper in your mouth?” I inquired.
“We’re beavers.”
Ah. Beaver teeth. I had heard rumors of bunny teeth being made last week; after a weekend playing at the river, beaver teeth is the next logical thing.
I looked again at the coffee table. Everything covering the table was brown. Around it on the floor? Blue. And the bits of crumpled up tissue paper were either rocks or whitewater, depending on who you ask. The kindergartener crawled over to a length of 4″ PVC pipe with a green t-shirt top, made a buzzing noise as she chewed with her paper beaver teeth, and felled the tree. They only have one tree to chew, so they re-erect it after each meal.
3.
This is why I homeschool*. Because every now and then I can borrow Rocky Mountain Beaver Pond from the library, and all the kids abandon their regular school work in order to watch, even though they saw it already when they were in K5 or 1st or 2nd grade and in theory the big guys should find it boring by now, but they don’t.
And then instead of telling thirty kids, “Make a diorama about Beavers,” my kids build a live-action diorama in the living room when I thought they were just goofing off being edu-tained.
3.5
What is the proper place for the pink bunny and the purple hippos and the real live family cat, in a living room Beaver pond? The negotiations are fascinating.
***
Well that’s all for today. I’m catching up on the plugged-in life after the long weekend, so be patient with me as I work through the inbox. I noticed over at CWG there’s a nice set of Memorial Day posts from today on back through Saturday, go take a look.
Tuesday is Link Day for all topics, not beavers only. Help yourself if you are so inclined. Post as many as you want, but only one per comment or the spam dragon will eat you up and I’ll never even know. Have a great week!
*Other people have more impressive reasons for their educational choices. But seriously. I’m in it for the beaver pond.
Time poses as a respectable newsweekly, and so it’s supposed to be reporting about real issues. The topic at hand is delayed weaning, and we are supposed to be upset that a three-year-old might still be nursing. Difficult to get upset about that, unless you can somehow stage it as a sexual issue. Keep in mind that typically a three-year-old still needs help with bathing, toileting, and often may need diapers changed. Can a child be sexually abused as part of all that? Sure. Would there be any reason to suspect a dysfunctional or abusive relationship merely because a parent looked after a child’s hygiene? No.
I’m going to describe the photo, and what’s noteworthy is that there is nothing unusual about this. I can be pretty sure that if I draw the right readership, I’ll be told I’m an uptight prude for calling the mom’s outfit immodest. These are the clothes young women wear to serve in ministry at church, for example. It’s all so normal.
Mom:
Mom’s wearing ballet flats — nothing tiltating there. Which also make her as short at possible. Important in a minute.
Mom’s wearing tight jeans — technically, these are tights. Wonder of spandex, we can now have “pants” that fit like something which, a decade ago, went under a skirt to keep your legs warm in winter.
Mom’s wearing a camisole. Remember camisoles? They used to go under your clothes.
And that’s it.
We, as a culture, think this is normal. Girls dress this way at church. Well you know what? It’s not normal. It’s underwear. And when you pose someone in her underwear on the cover of a magazine . . . it’s that type of magazine.
Now I know your daughter who dresses this way is sweet and pure and innocent, because I’ve met her or a girl just like her, and in addition she’s delightful, polite, intelligent, and devoted to her faith. I don’t question her motives. She’s just wearing what they sell. But still. She’s walking around in her underwear. And doesn’t know it, because everyone else is too. The empress has no outerwear.
So. On the cover of Time, we have a woman in her underwear. A young, beautiful woman. Her eyes and her posture say, “I dare you.” Or, perhaps, “Come and get it.” We’ll go with “I dare you.”
Now for her boy:
He’s three, but he’s a little taller than a typical three year-old.
He’s dressed like a little GI – camo pants, grey knit shirt, running shoes. Grown-up hair cut.
He’s standing on a chair, which though you know doesn’t make him taller, really, your eyes see that head way up by her shoulder, and your brain thinks “twelve years old.”
The clothing, the relative heights — this preschooler has been done up to look like a pre-teen boy. In an age when grown men do their best to look like pre-teen boys.
Recap: A woman in her underwear, with a child made up to look like a grown-up, doing what grown-up men do in their bedroom with their wives during intercourse. That’s child porn.
It’s not about breastfeeding.
Allow me to hurt your brain a little more. Make that boy pose like a GI caught with his pants down. Have mom kneel down, same outfit, same “I dare-you-eyes” as she reaches up with a baby-wipe to clean that bottom . . . child porn.
It’s not about breastfeeding.
It’s about the fact that our culture is sex-obsessed.
It’s about the fact that if you even mention modesty, you must be some kind of Victorian prude (I’m not so impressed with the Victorians, but apparently some people are). Even among Catholics, the hot thing is to declare modesty is context-dependent, and more about a state of mind, and anyway here’s a picture of someone, somewhere, dressing this way fifty years ago, so that makes it modest. Also, look at this piece of classic art. We all know artists were protected from impurity until 1957. And then it degenerates into the Burka argument, since neither Nazis nor pedophile priests can be brought into the discussion so easily.
Our culture hears the word “breast” and thinks “sex”, since sex is what everything is about, all the time. We worry about three-year-olds nursing, because we know that by five the girls will be dressed like little prostitutes — surely that boy must be getting warmed up for his kindergarten girlfriend.
I edited out the last paragraph because the SuperHusband said it exceeded even the bounds of Rant-o-Rama. For those who feel shortchanged, I point you to this excellent, charitable, and informative post on modesty over at Aggie Catholics. Where they are kind, and hip, and not at all ranty like your cranky hostess here.
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.
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.
My Hail Mary post at Sarah R.’s place is up. What I discovered writing it, is that I’d been looking at this question of feminine genius all backward. Our culture wants us to look at men, and try to guess how women compare. But just ask Adam — it’s the other way around. He was adrift until he discovered Eve. What, after all, is the purpose of tending the garden and taking care of creation, and all the other amazing and wonderful things guys do? What is the work of Christ, the bridegroom, done in service to His bride, the Church? He makes her mission possible. That is, Christ and the Church have a single mission.
BTW I stuck the photo up big, here, so you can see that girl-smile. It doesn’t quite come across when posted in moderation, the way sensible blog-owners do.
***
I’ve got an article in the new issue of Mater et Magistra. I haven’t seen the final (edited) version, so I can’t tell you exactly all the parts that made the cut. [You never know how many words there will be room for, once all the articles for the month are gathered together. So I submitted my article divided into sub-sections so it would be easy to edit down in chunks.]
But anyhow, it’s pure accountant-frugality meets homeschool-desperation: How do you decide what books to buy? Don’t panic, I don’t advise anyone to act like I do and buy waaaaaay too many books. Instead I actually talked with a bunch of much more sensible and practical homeschool moms, and found out what does and does not work in real life, for staying sane and under-budget, and still getting school done.
Let me know what you think when you read it, I’ll happily post your thoughts here.
***
I haven’t figured out how to get my Amazing Catechists feed working quite right, but one day I will. Meanwhile, I posted about Journals & the Sacrament of Confession this week. Because a real live human being (who I don’t know personally, and I have no idea when or where or how the incident took place) asked my opinion on this:
Is it appropriate for religion teachers to ask students about their sins? In my friend’s religion class, the teacher asked him to write in his journal about one of the sins he would be confessing at his next confession. What do you think?
No, seriously. I didn’t make that up. I can write fiction, but there are limits. And anyway, I don’t do horror.
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.”
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.
Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, keeping up with all your man card punching needs.
Click and be amazed.
1.
There was an incident. 5-year-old girl, 11-year-old boy, breakfast, and an injured knee. I was summoned to the inquest. Findings were inconclusive, but I was quite certain 6th graders need to learn not to get involved in injuring small children during meals. I declared he would be her personal servant for the next 30 minutes.
A few minutes later I walk into my study, and there’s the boy. On my computer. “Tink told me to set up Minecraft for her.”
2.
Next time someone asks me to join in on a group baby-shower gift, I’m going to suggest one of these:
I want one. Two, actually. Maybe for Mother’s Day someone will ship me a product sample. I promise I would blog about it.
3.
For the other 50% of childhood plumbing problems, what you want is a pair of these:
Just reach in and grab your dropped object. So much easier than taking the trap apart. God bless my father-in-law, genius of a gift-giver.
3.5
On the same porch with the laundry line and the true table tennis, we have a collection of 2″ PVC pipe and fittings. Just add a ping pong ball and you’ve got . . .
***
Well, that’s all for today. It’s Link Day once again, one link per comment so you don’t get accidentally caught in the spam dungeon, where my long pliers reach rarely and reluctantly. Guys you’re going to have to do better in the combox if you want to defeat the mom-bloggers.
A whole weekend's worth of entertainment at your fingertips. Click to read more.
1.
The 4th grade science book had this explanation of charge (negative, positive, etc) that was just not computing with a certain child. Trying to figure out how to explain what the girl needed to know was going to take more brain power than I wished to exert. So I fetched the boy’s old snap circuit kit, and said, “Read the directions, make a couple of these, and then we’ll talk.”
She loves them. She’s made maybe twenty of the projects now.
And the SuperHusband came home and explained the habits of those wiley electrons in terms we could all understand.
2.
In his explanations, he observed electrons are a lot like people. Certain children, for example, would much rather we evenly populate the rooms of the house, than have three girls crowded together in one bedroom. It was an analogy our people-person girl grasped immediately.
3.
On the evening walk after dinner, Mr. Boy proposed seminars that run the opposite direction. “People Skills for Engineers”, for example. In which you explain that people are a lot like electrons.
Benadryl season, here. I ran out of the liquid. Seven-year-old had dark circles under her eyes, perpetual sneezing, and was losing her voice. But the pill. It doesn’t want to go down.
Until I remembered this stuff:
Now she’s very punctual in reminding me when she needs her next dose.
6.
We weren’t sure whether our dog would get along with our friends’ dogs during the pending staycation, in which all Fitz creatures under a certain age vacate castle premises for the weekend. So we ran a test the other day. One of the host dogs was not pleased at the arrival of the guest dog, and our pup insisted on saying a few pointed words back . The altercation slowly edged them towards the pool.
Our dog, unaware she was backing up towards the water, fell right in. She swam to the side, and my friend showed her the way up the steps.
And after that, the dogs got along just fine.
7.
And with that, I’m out of here, and offline, until sometime Monday. Think I might send the telephone off with the kids, too. Have a great weekend!
(Meanwhile SuperHusband and I are enjoying an eerily silent weekend. I’ll check back at the combox and all that come Monday, or whenever we lose our un-plugged concentration and just have to ignore each other for a while.)
1) Yeah, we pretty much stink at prayer-n-fasting. Especially when housework is supposed to fit in their somewhere.
2) But I did have an Adrian Monk Moment, and clean the yard in a frenzied response to stress and frustration. It looks really nice. Or it did 24 hours ago, anyhow.
3) And then here’s what happened: We planned to meet Fr. W for lunch because after six months of trying, dinner just wasn’t happening. Too busy. And we decided that ‘at the restuarant’ was smarter than ‘at our house’. And this morning I thought, “Yes, I’m so glad it’s at the restaurant, because this place is a wreck.” And then I realized: “This place is waaaaay cleaner then the first time he came over last summer. For one thing, at this time I would not need to send the children out on an hour-long mission to “get rid of the disgusting things”.
So, yes. Progress. Not as stellar of progress as my vivid imagination had envisioned. But it’s something.
The Fitz House, Now 75% Less Disgusting!
4.
You thought you could just pray for my intention up there in #1. No can do. Allie Hathaway. Right now.
. . . Okay good. Thanks!
5.
Helen Alvare e-mailed me (and 18,000 of her closest friends, I’m pretty sure) with the reminder that:
. . . The Obama Administration has put real accommodation of religious employers, insurers, and individuals off the table. And they have managed to get leading media to continue to claim that women are on the side of shutting down religious witness on the issue of the “free” birth control in employer insurance plans.
And that’s it. Catholic Writer’s Conference starts tomorrow. My yard is clean. My blog is sad and lonely. The weather is beautiful. My truck is pale yellow from the pine pollen. My 5 year-old has a new green plaid outfit made by her 10-year-old sister from scrap fabric, just in time to keep the neighbor kid from pinching her tomorrow. I have given up all hope of predicting the future, and now consider my calendar to be a work of speculative fiction.
Oh speaking of saint’s feast days, last night I read the account of St. Abraham Kidunaia. And I thought as I read, “Gee, his poor fiance, abandoned on the eve of the wedding, when he fled to the desert and locked himself in a cell.” And then I read a little further, and concluded: “Probably once she learned he was planning to wear the same goatskin coat for the next 50 years, she was okay with it.”
My ashes have worn off. Anyone know where I can get them touched up? I made it till Sunday being moderately virtuous in the life of prayer and penitence, and then . . . well, some of us are more “childish” than “childlike” in our faith. But God is merciful, and every day is new. Back to it.
1B
I’m contractually obligated to tell you: You are doing Lent wrong.
At least, I think that must be a line in the Catholic Bloggers Handbook, because that seemed to be the theme this past week. Probably my punishment for too much internet and not enough diligence.
Take away lesson: If you are praying and fasting the wrong way, for the wrong reasons, and entirely too lightly, we the Catholic Bloggers of the World are here to let you know. You see how convenient it is, giving spiritual direction to complete strangers? So much simpler. You can say thank you anytime.
Anyway, I figure it’s best to go ahead and get the boy hooked on crotchety right-wing gun-enthusiast priests, because then at least our arguments can be fun.
Are we the only Catholic home where the wall and floor beneath the mini-holy water font are now very, very blessed? I’m divided between whether that means we are very bad Catholics or just that much more desperate for God’s blessings.
4.
If you want to do one thing right today, quick stop reading and say a prayer for Allie Hathaway.
5.
Look, I’m a grown-up now! I told Lisa Mladinich that she’d have to re-name her site “Pretty Good Catechists”, or “Amazing Catechists Plus Also Jen Sometimes”. She told me the no, she’s expanding the “amazing” brand to reach out the “It’s amazing anyone let you be a catechist” segment, and I was the perfect choice to lead that charge.*
Anyway, I posted one column at AC introducing myself, so if you aren’t sure who I am, quick go look. I’ll stick up a regular catechist-y column sometime soon, and you can be sure I’ll let you know about that. Double bonus if you go: You can see my picture instead of just a pile of rocks. My writer friends are all patting me on the back. Because now if you ever meet me somewhere, and I’m trying to stick my head through a very small window, sideways, you’ll be able to identify me right away.
6.
There’s a rumor that my first column at CatholicMom.com is going to appear tomorrow (Saturday) morning. I’m interested to see what I have to say. Something about homeschooling.**
*That is a COMPLETE FABRICATION. Lisa Mladinich is a friendly, cheerful person unlike your hostess here, and she would never ever say something like that. I had to make it up.
**Lisa Hendey has you send in your first two columns before you start. I don’t know which one she’ll put up first. I love the suspense — now I have to get on the internet right away at 9:00am Saturday to find out.
Lent Report: The festival of cleaning combined with our new penitential life is starting to show results. Neighbor kid who lives in a clean house all the time is unimpressed. But I am. For one thing, the finally collasping remains of the Leaf Fort have now been moved to a newly-constructed giant compost garden, where in theory we’ll grow fewer insects and more compost this year.
2.
On the other hand, less school work is being accomplished. But we will catch back up. We are still in the initial stages of our new, clean life, and there was some digging-out to do.
3.
I have at least one child interested in attending daily mass more often. (By “more often” I mean “at all, ever”.) I’m going to see how doing just Fridays works.
4.
But “just Fridays”, I mean to say, “Yesterday I did not race the kids to mass and adoration even though in theory we could have squeezed it in on the way to Grandma’s house, but seriously? It wasn’t going to work. ”
As I told Father last week, sometimes trying to haul everyone to church is a near occasion of sin in itself.
I want my kids to associate weekday mass with peaceful, reflective times with God, not with Mom Yelling At You That Your Pants Need To Be Ironed Because You Did Not Put Them Away Properly And Quick Get That Food Off The Table Do You Not Remember We Are Cleaning Up After Ourselves Because We Are Growing In Holiness Quit Making That Face At Your Sister.
5.
But what I did do yesterday was something new: I read a book during adoration. Dropped the kids at Grandma’s, returned library books, then stopped by the church as I sometimes (not always) do on a grandma day.
Normally I would pray for a very small amount of time, and then go over to McDonald’s, buy a cup of coffee, and read a book. I always puzzled over people who read during Eucharistic adoration, because it felt sort of like if you had an audience with the Queen of England and you whipped out a magazine because you were so bored. You know, because it’s so much more reverent to dash in, say hello, and wave goodbye with a, “Nice seeing you, gotta run off to McDonald’s now”, right?
The book was Knox’s Retreat for Lay People. And it would be a good helpful book if read at McDonald’s. But read right there in the presence of Jesus? Wow. What a difference. Talk about a serious book club. Each point became something I could pray about — that is, talk face to face with Jesus right then and there. Not contemplate while gazing at the ceiling, or the clouds, or even an icon or crucifix. But right there with the Real guy. Sheesh. I’d never guessed. Seriously cool.
6.
Pray for Allie Hathaway. I can’t think of a better way to spend your Friday.
7.
“I’m Not Ready Yet” is what our first pair of preschoolers would call out from the bed in the evenings. They’d lay there in their room, shouting out in a chorus, “I’m not ready yet! I’m not ready yet!” in protest of their bedtime. We have it on video. It has now entered the family vocabulary as our all-purpose expression of dislike for less enjoyable responsibilities.
In other bits of castle dialect these days: Everything is coming back to Mr. Timn.
