Theologian MOM

Theologian Mom at a Conference

2012-01-25T21:44:00.000-05:00

Over the winter break, I had the opportunity to attend a professional academic conference. I knew about it a year in advance, and had planned that far ahead, as it just so happened the conference was in traveling distance of my mother-in-law's house, so I knew we could all go as a family.

Logistically, however, it wasn't as easy as it seemed when it was still a year away. Suddenly, about a week or two before the conference I realized that Maia is in school. This means that we can't just up and go on a trip whenever we want. Hence the four-day conference diminished to one day for me. Then there was the issue of what to do with the kids, and finally we settled on Grandma taking the girls and Jeff and Patrick coming with me to the conference, then Jeff taking Patrick to Great-Grandma's house for lunch, and returning to the conference to get me so we could head back to Grandma's in time for Patrick's 6:00 bedtime. It started to seem like more work than it was worth.

And to be honest, given that I spend most of my time doing childcare and menial housework, I was a bit nervous. Could I pull it off and make everyone think that I'm a real academic? Only the thought of seeing a few friends kept me going...

So on Saturday, I dressed to play the part - navy blazer, white blouse, brown dress pants, along with my classy briefcase-like bag. Seeing as how my normal uniform is jeans and a sweatshirt, I definitely felt like a pretender. But on the other hand, it helped me feel at home and fit in at the conference.

At least for the first two hours. Because after an organizational meeting for a board I'm a part of, I rejoined Jeff and Patrick with a banana that I'd snagged from the breakfast buffet where we had our meeting. I knew Patrick would be hungry, so I dutifully peeled the banana and began giving him small chunks. He voraciously devoured it, or so it seemed until the moment when I tried to capture him during an attempted escape and found my freshly dry-cleaned navy blazer now dotted with smooshed banana.

In case you are wondering, smooshed banana does NOT come off of navy blue blazers; it turned into bananaglue within seconds and no amount of water or rubbing made any difference. And in case you are wondering, Patrick managed to get it everywhere - shoulder, sleeve, lapel, you name it.

So, not as professional-looking. But definitely more theologianmomish. No one could have mistaken me for a real academic.

Colbert on Suffering

2012-01-08T18:40:00.001-05:00

Recently I was reading an article on Stephen Colbert in the NY Times. I've only seen little clips of Colbert (all of which I found to be exceedingly funny), but I found this piece to be interesting. The part that really struck me, however, was this, from page 5 of 7:

In 1974, when Colbert was 10, his father, a doctor, and his brothers Peter and Paul, the two closest to him in age, died in a plane crash while flying to a prep school in New England. “There’s a common explanation that profound sadness leads to someone’s becoming a comedian, but I’m not sure that’s a proven equation in my case,” he told me. “I’m not bitter about what happened to me as a child, and my mother was instrumental in keeping me from being so.” He added, in a tone so humble and sincere that his character would never have used it: “She taught me to be grateful for my life regardless of what that entailed, and that’s directly related to the image of Christ on the cross and the example of sacrifice that he gave us. What she taught me is that the deliverance God offers you from pain is not no pain — it’s that the pain is actually a gift. What’s the option? God doesn’t really give you another choice.”

I was impressed both at Colbert's words and at the fact that these sentiments could make it into the New York Times. Part of my work these days deals with trying to explain how unchosen suffering can be beneficial as mortification on behalf of others or as penance for one's own sin. Colbert's mom was right on when she taught him to be grateful for his life regardless. It is so common these days to deal with challenges, whether minor ones like being kept awake by a little one at night or big ones like losing someone we love, by becoming bitter and failing to use these as opportunities to grow closer to God. Colbert is right that God offers deliverance from pain, but "the deliverance God offers you from pain is not no pain." "The pain is actually a gift... God doesn't really give you another choice." Indeed, we can see suffering as an occasion for anger and resentment or we can see it as a gift, a moment to recognize our dependence on God and a lack of control that allows for a vulnerability and receptivity to the grace of God.

I'm not aiming for one of my children to be a famous comedian, but I hope that I can be like Colbert's mom and give my kids an understanding of pain and suffering that takes them out of the realm of the pointless and into the realm of transformative.

Naming the Wise Men

2012-01-08T18:18:00.000-05:00

On the occasion of Epiphany, I asked over dinner whether anyone could name the three wise men.

There was a moment of silence, and then Maia, said "Gaspar!"

Eva, meanwhile, picked up one wise man and said, "I think we could name this one 'Judy'."

I don't think she grasped that I was looking for the traditional names of the kings!

What to do with $5?

2012-01-08T18:13:00.000-05:00

Between Christmas and New Years', we took the kids to daily Mass with us every day, since Maia was on break from school and this made our day a little more efficient in terms of our own work. I won't say it was much fun for them or for us, but there was one benefit for the kids: people giving them money or gifts after Mass. We're not sure if they were pity gifts or "you're-so-cute" gifts, but anyway, the kids appreciated the three occasions when this happened.

The first gifter was an older lady named Elsie, and she gave each of the kids a $5 bill. What to do with $5? The girls were ecstatic, but to be honest they don't have much understanding of what exactly you can buy with $5. Yet by the time we had returned home, Eva knew what she wanted to do with her $5: "I want to buy a hot dog and give it to a poor person who's hungry."

Maia, meanwhile, guiltily admitted that she wanted to spend it on something for herself. Jeff assured her that was fine, "After all," he said, "that's what Mommy and I do when someone gives us money. We spend it on ourselves." Maia finally fixed on buying some batteries she needed for a new toy, which I thought was a good idea. Daddy, however, told her we would buy her batteries and she could use it for something else.

Over the next few days, Eva looked in vain for a poor person to feed. Every time I went shopping, she begged to come, and clutched her little pink purse on the whole trip, hoping to run into someone who was hungry. Although I have been approached by people in the past looking for food or money, Eva was unsuccessful in finding anyone to feed. Elsie, however, was tickled by the news (communicated to her by Maia) of Eva's intention of using her money to feed the poor.

One morning as we slipped in to church a few minutes late, I caught Maia surreptitiously putting her $5 into the poor box, which goes to our Vincent de Paul Society's food pantry. I guess she decided, after all, to help the poor, since we bought her the batteries and there was nothing she really needed. So that's how Maia spent her $5.

Eva continued to come with me on shopping trips and to look for hungry people. Finally she decided to buy an Eric Carle book at Kohl's. And, though it was only her second choice, she seemed happy with the decision. I assured her that, should we find someone in need, we could buy a hot dog using Patrick's $5, since I didn't think he would mind.

Dining Entertainment

2011-12-30T16:31:00.000-05:00

The girls and I are never bored at a meal so long as Patrick is eating with us. Here's some proof.

Patrick Blowing his Nose

2011-12-28T19:19:00.000-05:00

Seriously, it's one of his favorite things to do. Maybe because it seems so grown up.

The World Through Patrick's Eyes

2011-12-28T19:01:00.001-05:00

I remember hearing once that babies are like little research scientists. They are born into this world without really knowing how it works, so, as soon as they are able, they embark on an experimental quest to figure out their world. I have been thinking recently that in Patrick's Aristotelian categorization of inanimate objects, there would be two main categories.

Throwable:

Undoubtedly, one of Patrick's favorite things to do is throw. I guarantee he has thrown each of the objects in the above photo at least once. The only joy that surpasses a simple throw of an object is the joy that comes with throwing an object down the stairs. In particular Patrick likes to throw down videos, DVDs, and their cases (they make such a loud crash on the tile at the bottom!). But he's also game for socks, towels, clothing, bath toys, or whatever might be laying in the hallway parallel with the staircase. You might notice in the above photo that my tea kettle has a chip in the enamel; that's thanks to Patrick giving it a good toss in the kitchen pantry. In case you are wondering, Patrick does have a nice supply of balls of various shapes and sizes, including a new O-ball and some flashing balls from Christmas. He loves playing catch with anyone who will play, and I daresay he has exceptionally good aim for a 14 month old. If you observe him playing, however, you will notice that he does not see throwing as something to be limited to balls. He (repeatedly) threw Eva's new mini-keyboard (which miraculously did NOT break). After chasing his new runaway train, he captured it, turned around and went for the Hail Mary pass to his mom. I would venture to say that everyone in the family has suffered minor bruises from Patrick's pastime, but as of now we have no major injuries (and only a few broken objects). The other category, then, is
Not Throwable:

Try as he might, Patrick would not be able to throw the above chair. And there are certain items of this size and smaller that he obviously does not even attempt to throw.

Having mulled over Patrick's two categories for a few days, I finally chose breakfast as a time to announce to my husband my observation of Patrick's dichotomous categorization. Needless to say, my claim was immediately destabilized by the sound of scraping on the tile entryway. I was forced to add another category.
Pushable/moveable

Because, of course, there are some things that Patrick is unable to throw but they still provide him with entertainment because they are moveable. He can't actually throw an empty laundry hamper, but he can push it down the stairs and watch it fall. A full laundry hamper he can take for a walk down the hallway. I think light switches would also go in this category. Thanks to Grandpa Bob's bonding time with Patrick, my son thinks switches of all sorts are there solely for his personal enjoyment. Generally he can't reach light switches, but unfortunately the heater service switch is right at his level. I never leave the laundry area without checking to make sure Patrick hasn't turned off our heat.

Undoubtedly Patrick has other categories operating in his encounter with the world, but despite this, I think his most important designation for an inanimate object has to do with whether or not he can chuck it at a sister.

Eva's "Private Speech"

2011-12-22T20:02:00.000-05:00

"Private speech" is what it's called when kids make up little stories to themselves, often using figurines or dolls or whatever. Although sometimes these moments seem silly, research shows that good private speech is an important indicator of success in school. Anyway, here's a window into a moment of Eva's private speech that I caught.

The setting is the kitchen, and the figurine she was playing with was a plastic statue of St. Anthony of Padua where he is holding the Christ child.

JC: I would like to go for a walk.
St.A: OK, but you should ask your mom. (St. Anthony slides over to a candle of La Virgen de Guadalupe so that Jesus can ask his mom if he can go for a walk with St. Anthony.)
JC: She said I can go.
(St. Anthony looks down at his feet)
St.A: Oh, but I'm not wearing any shoes!
JC: That's OK. You don't need shoes. Let's go!

And I think St. Anthony did take the Christ child on a little stroll.

A few days later, Eva was playing with the Fisher Price Nativity Set. I noticed that all three camels, the cow, the donkey, and goats were all lined up, so I asked Eva why that was so. Her response: "Well, they were going to get their picture taken for the wedding, but the bride and the groom are not there yet."

Convenience Detracting from Conversion

2011-12-19T21:34:00.000-05:00

My work is on penance, specifically the virtue of penance, and in particular looking at the time period of 1955-1975 in the United States. Since beginning this work, I've come to see ways in which my own experience of Catholicism has been missing some important pieces (ha ha, like penance!). There are many acts of the virtue of penance, including (but not limited to) examination of conscience, partaking of the sacrament, almsgiving, fasting, prayer, spiritual and corporal works of mercy. One other important act of penance is the offering up of involuntary mortifications.

In the first half of the 20th century, these involuntary sufferings were often profound, resulting from things like the Great Depression or World War II. The waves of Catholic immigrants to the U.S. were usually poor and it took a lot of hard work for them to survive. Living near NYC, I recently went to Ellis Island and saw a video that really brought that tough journey by boat alive for me as I imagined G-Grandma Anna's trip.

In my current life of convenience, it was hard to imagine ever undergoing such challenges. But on the other hand, convenience can detract from continual conversion. As I said, my experience of Catholicism was basically devoid of the concept "offer it up," that is, offering up suffering, sickness, and inconvenience as prayer for others in need or as penance for one's sins. Since I've discovered this concept, my life has become much happier.

Now, of course, I don't undergo the kind of suffering that comes with a month of boat-travel or having a husband away in the Navy during a world war or being penniless and somehow trying to feed a family. But I do have occasional suffering in the form of mild sickness, and I have lots of little inconveniences associated with being a full-time mom and trying to write a dissertation. In our era, I think the usual conclusion when there is such an inconvenience is to try to fix that convenience, rather than offering it up. Take the ancient refrigerator we inherited with this house. After a couple of years of being annoyed with its randomly freezing items in the fridge, not having enough space for produce, not having an icemaker, and having broken shelves and drawers, I decided to rid myself of this inconvenience and rallied up support for getting a new refrigerator.

Said refrigerator is a stainless steel French-door bottom freezer with room in the doors for milk and huge produce drawers. Great. Perfect. Inconvenience solved and (whew!) no chance of having to offer that up again! Likewise, I recently became convinced that an iPad would solve all of my problems. For example, I'd like to read in bed in a dark room (baby's in the room with me, asleep). I'd also like to read online sources for my research on a separate screen from the one on which I'm taking notes or writing. And I'd like to have a way on the first floor (my computer is in my office on the third floor) to look up recipes or zip codes or even check my email during the day. I've got a nice life, with all the necessities covered and a much more comfortable lifestyle than any of my ancestors, mind you. And yet for some reason, I became obsessed with this idea of an iPad to make my life just a little bit easier. Despite the fact that I recently learned from a friend of mine that iPads actually do NOT do your laundry for you, I think I may have one under the tree five days from now.

IPad aside, when I reflect on that earlier time period of Catholicism compared with Catholicism today, it strikes me that they simply had more involuntary mortification in the form of inconveniences and that offering it up was a major coping mechanism for surviving these discomforts. They had more practice with such suffering and hence became better at it. I'm not trying to romanticize it, of course, because I'm sure if they'd had a choice most if not all would have chosen to live more comfortably, as their descendants have chosen (nor am I asking God for such difficulties to come my way). Nonetheless, my point is that it seems convenience can detract from conversion. Even the word convenience has agreement and harmony as its etymology, where as the word conversion comes from a sense of turning upside down in dramatic change.

In no way to I mean to minimize the suffering that we now undergo. People still lose spouses to sickness, suffer from chronic illnesses, undergo natural disasters like hurricanes or tornadoes, become unemployed and so on. We who are parents of young children also endure the normal more minor challenges of lack of sleep, kids damaging or destroying possessions, etc. But these entirely sanctifiable situations more often become lost on us today because offering up suffering is not second-nature to us the way it was to our ancestors. We are more likely to complain and to seek ways of eliminating such inconveniences when instead we can use them in a penitential sense, for our good and the good of others. Moreover, we seem to have an attitude wherein we expect life to be free of such inconveniences, which, of course, it's not.

So, when we have a new refrigerator or a new iPad and they make life a little easier, this is a good reason to give thanks to God! But when we suffer inconveniences (did I mention the new leak under the kitchen sink due to installing a water line to the new refrigerator's ice maker?), this also is a good opportunity to grow closer to God by acknowledging them and offering them as prayer. This may not make life more comfortable or easier, but it does make life a little happier, in the beatitude-final end sort of way.

(Kit Kittredge is from the American Girl series and grew up during the Great Depression. The books describe her experience of going from having a beautiful bedroom to being forced into an unfinished attic so her family could take on borders to keep their house when her dad lost his job. Kit is constantly described wearing too-small clothes and even a dress made of a chicken-feed sack! At age eight, she is already resourceful and hardworking. And, ironically, a Kit doll costs much, much more than her family would have ever been able to spend on her for a gift. Maia and I love the Kit stories, and now the irony of an expensive Kit doll resides in our house, thanks to an early Christmas gift from Grandma. Doesn't Maia look happy? And in the above photo, doesn't she kind of look like Kit?)

Eva at 3!

2011-12-19T20:13:00.000-05:00

Ah, the middle child gets so neglected and forgotten... So here, one week later, are some photos from Eva's birthday party and the day of her birthday. Eva wanted a "flower party," I think inspired by the cakes she sees at Costco with their pretty flowers. But of course, I never buy cakes, I always make them. For this party I had my first attempt at cake pops. "Gluing" on those "petals" (pink Jelly Bellys) was TOUGH. I could definitely do them better if I did them again (in fact, I have made cake pops again since, and they were better).

What do you do at a "flower" party? Well, I had picked up some vases at a rummage sale (about 10 cents each). Then I bought several different bouquets at Trader Joe's on the day of the party. The girls chose ribbons to put around the vases, chose flowers from the various bouquets, trimmed the stems, made their own new flower arrangements, filled their vases with water and flower food, and voila! The girls all had a great time making bouquets.

We sang to Eva, who had two layer cake, one layer strawberry, one layer lemon with strawberry jam icing inside and lemon buttercream outside - and don't forget the flowers to decorate it!

She'd been practicing blowing out our Advent candles each night (usually without permission!), so she was ready to go for the big moment. What a fun age 3 is! She enjoyed every moment of the party.

Then, a few days later, on her actual birthday, she came down to this pile of gifts. Her big gifts this year were a scooter and a mini-trampoline (both from grandparents), both of which have already gotten lots of use. She also got a nice set of princess boots that light up as well as some rain boots with a matching umbrella. Daddy picked her up some helium birthday balloons that completed the set of gifts. What joy! We had an Oreo/pudding dessert on her birthday.

So far, Eva is a pretty good 3 year old. She's still under 30 pounds but LOTS of fun!

Happy St. Nicholas Day!

2011-12-05T21:50:00.000-05:00

I think it's fair to say that one of our approaches to raising the kids Catholic is to give them a sense of how fun it is to be Catholic. Advent, though primarily a penitential season of joyful anticipation, is full of fun because it brings the lighting the Advent wreath and singing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," each night before dinner, chocolate-filled Advent calendars (say "Maranatha" if you want your chocolate!), and, of course, there are some great feasts in Advent, like the Immaculate Conception and Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Another great feast is St. Nicholas, a Catholic bishop who lived in what is now Turkey. So the kids put out their shoes before bed tonight. And we moved our St. Nicholas icon to watch over the shoes tonight.

And, here's what the kids will find in the morning. Candy canes to represent St. Nicholas' crozier. Some Hershey's kisses to represent charity. Maia gets some gum just because she always wants it and I don't usually let her have any. And the kids each get a small gift too. Maia gets goggles, Eva gets a floatation belt, Patrick gets an O-ball and a plush crib sheet. So there, being Catholic is fun - not just all "offer it up" when you're sick (although Maia is getting good at that too!).

Fr. Bacon

2011-11-20T19:22:00.001-05:00

After the girls and I crashed a reception for a new candidate to the diaconate/priesthood (one of Jeff's former students, but Jeff wasn't with us) in our church hall, we had this conversation on the way home:

M: So we should call him Fr. Carmine.
TM: Well, not yet...
M: That's right. He's not a priest yet or a deacon. But when he is a priest, I will call him FATHER Carmine.
E: And when he is a priest, I will call him BACON.
M: Eva, that's not appropriate!
E: Then, when he is a priest, I will call him FATHER BACON.

I have no idea why Eva thought of this.

Delayed Halloween

2011-11-04T22:51:00.000-04:00

It was Friday, October 28th. Patrick tried on his robot Halloween costume.

Eva tried to decide between being a gorilla and a flower.

Grandpa and Nana came, bringing pumpkin muffins and ready to enjoy Halloween weekend. On Saturday morning, they took the kids to the library Halloween party.

But by the time they came home... it was snowing

Eva was happy to take off her costume and put on her new winter coat.

Maia was thrilled to be able to build a snowman in October... even if the tree was bummed to have its branches touching the ground.

At the Church Halloween party on October 30th, Eva won the silliest costume award as a gorilla. But what would happen? The message finally came: school was delayed, and trick-or-treating postponed until Tuesday, November 1st. On Monday, there was a new message: school canceled, trick-or-treating postponed until Friday, along with the school parties and costume parade.

What? Postponed until Friday???? How can Halloween be postponed? The kids demanded to know. While city crews cleaned up the numerous downed branches and power/cable/telephone lines, moms fretted over how to explain the change on short notice...

Friday November 4th the sun came out. Maia wore three different costumes: Tinkerbell to her school party, Belle to her school parade, and flower princess to go trick-or-treating.

Eva was scared by these typical neighborhood Halloween decorations, as well as all the people in scary masks. Patrick was unfazed, almost bored. Maia was SO happy. Why can't every day be a day where you get to walk around with your friends to people's houses where they give you candy?

And for Mom and Dad, well... finally, Halloween is OVER.

He's One!

2011-10-25T21:02:00.000-04:00

Patrick had his birthday on the 15th. Here are the highlights.

Patrick tries out his new wheely bug.

Eva demonstrates how to have more fun with the wheely bug.

Patrick opens gifts.

Patrick "eats" cupcake, cookie monster fashion.

Olives are for Sharing

2011-10-25T20:55:00.002-04:00

Possibly the only thing that surpasses the joy of eating an olive off of one's own finger is feeding another with it...

Freedom and Lack of Choice

2011-10-16T22:42:00.000-04:00

Recently I've been drawn into thinking about freedom and choice. Well, ok, I'm working on a chapter of my dissertation on varying views of obligation, obedience, freedom, and responsibility. But this was brought home to me more practically just in my own daily life. To repeat the infamous Fr. Bob, to be free is to give ourselves away. The more we give ourselves away, the freer we become. We probably all can think of examples of people that just seem to give themselves away to others, whether through their work, their family, their neighbors, or however. These are the happiest people around.

Now, darn it, we all sometimes have to do things that we don't want to do. This is when we might feel that our "freedom" is being limited. Here I am having to do the dishes, sweep the floor, wash a load of laundry and do other menial house chores in addition to feeding and caring for three children when what I really want to do is to relax, read, exercise, attend parish Vespers, etc. and generally engage in Sabbath rest. In such a situation, we might have at least three options. 1. Don't do what we "have" to do. For the tasks listed above, this would really just be procrastination as of course the chores don't disappear, but rather increase. 2. Do the tasks begrudgingly or, if not begrudgingly, with a sense of disinterested resignation. 3. Do the tasks lovingly and with a spirit of generosity.

A great lie of our modern day society is that if our interior disposition does not perfectly match our exterior action we are simply hypocrites... or worse, we are "not being true to ourselves" and hence limiting our self-actualization. So if we can't do it #3 (lovingly and with a spirit of generosity), then we shouldn't do it at all. In certain cases, this may actually be the case. For example, if living in a service community where one housemate neglects washing her breakfast dishes, and you do them for her, all the while thinking negative thoughts about her and harboring anger about your doing her task, this could be harmful. Even when living with a spouse, if you pick up his laundry to put it in the hamper every morning, and do it in a begrudging nature, it is probably better, as in the other case mentioned, to address the conflict and clarify expectations so as to come to an agreement.

But on the other hand, there are times, especially in a marriage, where a spouse may be sick/injured or pregnant or out of town, and you may have to do a full day of both childcare and house care (sometimes to the detriment of your dissertation!). Obviously it would be great to do this with enthusiasm, love, and generosity - the quintessential peaceful attitude that we imagine the Blessed Virgin might have possessed. But with our human weakness we may find it hard to "bear the ills of life cheerfully," as it were. And we are not hypocritical, nor are we lacking in "self-fulfillment" if we embrace those crosses with resignation; rather we are staying true to our commitments despite what may seem to be personal cost. In some way, we are humbling ourselves by admitting that there is no "choice," no avoiding the tasks, and, rather than procrastinating, beginning and then beginning again (after changing that diaper). If we can do this, we will have earned the right to say, "We are unprofitable servants. We have done what we were obliged to do" (Lk 17:10).

True freedom - and we see it in the lives of the saints - is one step beyond this, however. It comes only when we are giving ourselves away in doing these tasks. It comes when we cheerfully (rather than reluctantly and with great annoyance) interrupt the typing of a blogpost in order to nurse a half-asleep baby. Obviously it is better to interrupt a blogpost to nurse a baby begrudgingly than to turn off the baby monitor and ignore the crying, but it is BEST to respond with a spirit of generosity. "Bearing the ills of life" is great, but what makes it penitential is "patient suffering" (BC Q.221) This intention is what supernaturalizes the ills of life, turning difficulty into opportunity.

Of course, we may intellectually understand that generosity, cheerfulness, patience, love, etc. are the best path, but we may find ourselves falling into resignation by the end of the day, especially when that day started before 6:00 a.m. and is now on its 14th hour. It reminds me of something I read in the Divine Office to the effect that virtue is best developed in the evening. It's much easier to be patient and kind disciplining a child in the morning than in the evening (especially when she's hanging from the handle of the brand-new refrigerator). So these failures are when we rectify our intentions, when we say an act of contrition, make a resolution, and make it specific, e.g. not just "I will be more patient tomorrow and not yell angrily," but "Tomorrow I will prepare dinner earlier so I can devote more attention to my children at that time of day when they are most likely to be difficult."

Even with such intentions, we will fail. But we cannot let the lack of perfection in our interior life allow us to give up trying out of a fear that we are somehow hypocritical or not true to ourselves when we perform unwanted tasks. Our freedom is at stake here. To be free is to give ourselves away - to want to do that and to do it lovingly. We start by doing what we have to do, but, with God's grace, we end with doing what we have to do in the way God wants us to do it.

Rash Patterns

2011-10-13T20:47:00.000-04:00

One day last week I was helping Maia with her homework, identifying picture patterns like heart-star-heart-star-heart-star, etc. She had just come home from her friend Julia's house, and she had some silver rhinestone nail stickers on her forehead. But this detail is just background for the dream I had that night.

I dreamed that my kids had a medical problem, and, per the usual, I called my good friend Carla, who is also Patrick's godmother, and who (praise God!) is a pediatrician. So here's the dream:

TM: All three kids have rashes, and I'm wondering what I should do.
C: Where is it located?
TM: It's on their bellies. Gosh, I wonder if it's something they ate?
C: Can you describe it for me? What does it look like?
TM: Sure, it's a pattern.
C: What kind of a pattern?
TM: It goes circle-circle-square-square-circle-circle-square-square.
C (completely unphased): And is it raised at all?
TM: Yes, it looks a little like, well, like rhinestones.

I can't remember if she was able to identify the rash based on that info, but if she wasn't it's certainly no reflection on her skill as a doctor!

Sibling Games

2011-10-12T20:40:00.000-04:00

Eva and Patrick have come up with some unique ways to entertain themselves when big sis is absent.

This spoon game went on for about ten minutes, but I only caught the end, when Patrick was starting to get fussy.

The hitting a mixing bowl on Patrick's head game at first struck me as cruel, but Patrick was laughing so hard I couldn't stop them from continuing.

"Dad loves chocolate cake!"

2011-10-12T20:06:00.000-04:00

Inspired by the story "Spot Bakes a Cake," I let the girls decorate Jeff's birthday cake (he was 33 on the 5th). The final result actually does look pretty similar to the picture in the Spot book (minus the dog bones). And it gave us the chance to throw out random quotations from the book, such as "Dad loves chocolate cake!"

And if I say so myself... it was delicious too!

Student of the Month

2011-10-12T19:09:00.000-04:00

She's only been in school for one month and already the accolades are coming in. Here she is, Kindergarten-AM's Student of the Month (with her proud sister jumping into the photo).

Park Professional

2011-09-27T20:46:00.000-04:00

A trip to the park with Eva often results in various surprised - and sometimes horrified - looks from the adults at the park (mainly it seems to be the grandmothers who look horrified... and sometimes they even throw in a concerned comment to me, passive agressively indicating that I don't adequately assure for my daughter's safety.) Is it that surprising that a not-yet three year old's favorite park past time is scaling every pole in sight?

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

And is there anything wrong with Eva wanting to swing as high as I can possibly push her?

Name Practice

2011-09-27T20:01:00.000-04:00

Now that Maia is in kindergarten, it's always fun to check her backpack when she gets home from school. I look in her folder and see what she's done that day, or what she needs to do (yes, she has homework), and I get lots of notes from the PTA as well.

Just recently she came home from school with this "Name Practice" sheet. No doubt the teacher had in mind that she practice writing M-a-i-a, capital M, lower case aia. But apparently Maia thought such an exercise would be boring and silly. So she did her own interpretation of "practicing" writing her name. Line #1: capital block letters (with some numbers to boot). Line #2: curly capital letters, and the beginning of the alphabet in caps. Line #3: castle letters, followed by some shape-drawing. Line #4: heart-star pattern, and don't forget the ice cream cone. Line #5: connected letters. Wow, I bet she was the only student who practiced so creatively.

Perfectly in keeping with her personality, I might mention. When Maia is assigned a task she finds uninteresting, she either does it as quickly as possible so she can get onto the next task, or she manages to make the task interesting somehow. Maybe I should add some castle letters to my dissertation...

Football Season Begins...

2011-09-08T20:45:00.001-04:00

In the midst of all the other things going on, like Jeff being gone on a week-long retreat, hurricane-fighting, my parents visiting, and Jeff starting school, I had a wonderful surprise when I realized on Friday that football season started the next day! I got all the kids geared up in their ND shirts.

It's always so easy to smile BEFORE the game begins, isn't it? I'm glad I snapped these photos prior to the disastrous opening drive and all that eventually followed, including the two severe weather delays.

Kindergarten!

2011-09-08T20:40:00.000-04:00

Do you see that great big smile on Maia's face? This was how she looked in the moments before heading to her first day of school. Not a nervous, sad, or scared bone in her body. Pure joy, like she just could NOT wait to get to school and be relieved of the boredom of summer. If she had cried, I would have cried because I've been sentimental about my baby going off to school (thank goodness it's only half-day kindergarten). She had a great first day, too, although a half-day of half-day kindergarten is only a couple of hours.

You can see her bookbag is loaded down with lots of school supplies... like baby wipes, kleenex, and an art smock! Ah, kindergarten!

When asked how school was after her first session ended, Maia said, "Well, we didn't really do very much. Just color, listen to a story, and have a snack." But she seemed happy anyway.

Post-Hurricane Surprise

2011-09-08T20:30:00.000-04:00

We were so happy that we made it through Hurricane Irene without any major damage. So you might imagine our surprise on Wednesday morning when Jeff opened the kitchen shade to see this in our back yard:

At first, he thought one of our trees had fallen in the back. But closer investigation revealed it was *merely* a branch off a neighbor's tree.

It took out our shed and the fence next to the shed.

The only thing damaged within the shed was that rake!

The above photo proves that this was a branch and not an entire tree.

Here's the inside of the shed.

Maia thought it was fantastic to climb on a tree branch she never could have reached were it still on the tree.

And here's the tree that dropped the branch, although you probably can't see the break-off point because of the lighting.

The girls are enjoying it while it lasts. For hubby and I, it's an annoying homeowner's problem. I have to admit I've been wanting a new shed, since the one we had was ancient. But on the other hand, insurance-calling, tree removal, and shed-building are now several more things to do on an extensive to-do list.

Mostly, we just feel blessed that we weren't outside when the branch fell. As you may be able to tell in the above picture, the weight of the branch and the saturation of the ground combined to make the branch implant about a foot below the surface. Had I and the three kids been playing in the backyard at the time, we'd have been goners for sure, since this is the part of the yard where we are usually located. But thanks to Tropical Storm Lee's extensive rain, we were stuck indoors, praise God!

Kids and Mass

2011-09-08T20:07:00.009-04:00

Lots of low points, but we'll stick to the highlights of taking the kids to Mass:

Patrick: Waves to the statue of Mary as we pass by before entering the church.

Maia: Finally says all the responses and prayers!

Eva: One day, as Fr. Jim walked from the confessional to the sacristy in his cassock, Eva exclaimed, "There's Fr. Jim! And he's wearing his nightgown!!!!" When we told him about it later, Fr. Jim explained, "No, Eva, that's my day-gown!" Now Eva loves to call the cassock a nightgown because she knows she'll get a giggle from the folks around her.

New Hobby

2011-08-31T20:15:00.000-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Patrick's favorite thing to do at 10.5 months? Kick-the-ball. He can spend about 30 minutes just walking around the house, kicking a ball. I didn't get a great video of it, but the above will have to suffice. Maybe he'll be into soccer.

Hurricane Irene

2011-08-29T14:51:00.001-04:00

We survived, and actually, Irene was not too bad for us. Our neighbor had a generator, and he put an extension cord through our window so we could keep our fridge, Internet and a couple of lamps running for the twelve hours that we were without power. (Many people in our area still don't have power, including the church!) Here's the shot of the extension cord through the window:

Here are a couple of pictures of our street the night before the storm hit.

And here's the street with the flooding.

Here's a little farther west down our street, about 200 ft or so from our house. The water here was about two feet deep, but receded quickly.

It wasn't too windy, so Maia and Eva got a chance to wade in the water. That's Maia standing in our driveway.

Eva was proud of herself for rescuing this worm. But then she put it back down in the water, so it was a short-lived rescue.

Here's our backyard, the night before the storm:

And here it is as a swamp (sorry it's blurry, the camera wanted to focus on the rain, but couldn't). Happy to say the big old oak in the neighbor's yard survived.

Here's some tree damage across the street from us:

Perhaps it was because it was the "eye" of the storm that the sun surprisingly made an appearance.

Our neighbor Anna helped out so the girls weren't swept away by the current!

There is a lot of clean-up underway, but it is a lovely sunny day in the low 80s here. Our boro made out OK overall. The boro next to us has a river that flooded out basically every house near it, even imploding three basements. Our household guardian angel did a great job holding the chimney up, keeping the trees rooted, and keeping water out of the basement!

Leave the Clean-up to the Squirrels

2011-08-12T15:08:00.000-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

This is why I prefer to have our family meals outside on the deck. I'm very sorry this video doesn't include the couple of minutes preceding this clip, where our friendly clean-up worker munched on some bowtie pasta.

The First (Recorded) Steps

2011-08-11T21:38:00.001-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

In advance of his 10-month birthday, here is a brief clip of Patrick's first recorded steps. He's been practicing every day, with help from his sisters.

All Done!

2011-07-18T11:43:00.000-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Isn't communication wonderful? Patrick has figured out how to tell us he's done eating and wants out of the high chair!

A Whole New World

2011-07-13T21:05:00.000-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

With Patrick's increased mobility, i.e. crawling at hyper-speed and walking with assistance, even climbing stairs in the above video, he's discovered a whole new world. And he loves it (even though it makes more work for mama!).

Ooh, the pantry...full of wonderful percussion instruments.

The vacuum. Like Eva, it's a favorite.

The cabinet under the kitchen sink. Look at all those fun suffocation hazards!

And there's just no avoiding the sisterly affection, no matter how fast this baby can move!

Treasure Hunting

2011-07-06T21:54:00.000-04:00

Today Maia announced to her dad that real life is just too boring, not like the movies and books where people get to go off and look for buried treasure.

This was funny to us because Maia is always finding "treasure" everywhere she goes... you know, lost sequins, funny looking buttons, shiny bottle caps, broken shells, misplaced marbles. All of this gets stored in the "treasure box" she got for her birthday from Tia Ann. But when we reminded her of that she insisted, "But that's not REAL treasure! That's just, you know, trash that I pick up."

So Jeff went online to find out where Maia could hunt for treasure. His research revealed that one good place to find sunken treasure is off the Jersey Shore. Perfect. He told her now she'd just have to learn how to be a master diver, and she could start looking for treasure without even leaving the state.

Maia was excited, but she had a few more questions about finding treasure, especially if she wanted to find land treasure too. Jeff recommended that she go into archaeology, get a Ph.D., and be a professor during the school year and look for treasure in the summer (I know he had Indiana Jones in the back of his head!). Maia thought it sounded like a good idea, and she started making plans for what she would do with all her treasure - how she would display it, if she could wear it, who she would share it with or show it to. Then Jeff informed her that treasure of that sort is the property of the country in which you find it. And it usually ends up in a museum.

Suddenly, being a professional treasure hunter did not seem quite as appealing. What's the point if you don't get any fancy jewelry out of it?

The career path of pirate was looking a bit more promising, and she assured us she wouldn't be a "bad guy" pirate, but a good pirate. We had to explain to her that by definition, pirates engage in bad behavior, as the primary purpose of their occupation is to steal from people. In the picture below, Maia and Eva are pretending to be on a pirate ship, trying to keep their feet and possessions away from the water and sharks therein.

No treasure hunting, no piracy. Alas, real life is so boring.

Fun with the Walker

2011-06-24T21:30:00.000-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Little Drummer Boy

2011-06-24T20:24:00.002-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Patrick discovered a drum (tea kettle) in the pantry.

A Sisterly Haircut

2011-06-24T20:21:00.000-04:00

Notice anything new about Eva? Yes, she now has bangs, thanks to her sister's handiwork. I know there's no use complaining because pretty much everyone has a story about how they/their kids/their friends/etc. cut someone's hair. Nonetheless, I was not too happy about this unapproved, unsupervised hair cut, especially since Eva was due for her first professional haircut and a photo shoot next month. The very short bangs were initially at an unusual 45 degree angle, but I had my neighbor (a hairstylist) come over and fix Eva's bangs as best she could.

Of course, Maia lost her scissors as a consequence of the act, and she has yet to get them back. She keeps asking, when, and I keep saying once Eva's bangs are all the way grown out again. I'm not sure I'll stick to that, but we will see. A few days after the unhappy event, Maia and I had this conversation:

M: "So, Mom, I noticed that you moved your kitchen scissors."
TM: "Yes, I thought I'd better put them out of your reach now that you're on scissors probation. I wouldn't want you to use mine while you're waiting to get your own back."
M: "Too bad. I guess now I'll have to use your office scissors."

Next time I was in my office, I put those out of her reach too.

Kids' Ecumenical Conversations

2011-06-24T20:07:00.001-04:00

It's always hard to say goodbye to a friend... this week Maia had to say goodbye to her good friend Quentin, who is moving to Texas. Quentin's dad has been working with The Relief Bus, providing meals to people in need in NYC. Now he'll be starting up a similar ministry down in Texas. Maia and Quentin first met at the park, and they hit it off right away, as did their moms who both went to college in Indiana and had moved to Jersey from Ohio.

Maia is still trying to figure out how all this religion stuff works. On the day we were taking Quentin to the beach with us, she suggested that his mom drop him off at our house in time to go to daily Mass with us. "I don't know if they'd like that," I said, "they're not Catholic, you know."

Later, on the way to the beach, I heard Maia saying to Quentin, "So you don't believe in Jesus?"

Quentin, whose family is Evangelical/Wesleyan, was taken aback, "Yes, I do! I believe in Jesus!"

Maia replied, "But you're not Catholic! And Grandpa and Nana are not Catholic and they don't believe in Jesus!"

Quentin showed his own five-year old understanding when he said, "I'm Christian! Everyone in the world who believes in God is Christian, you know!"

A few minutes later, they were both singing along to Veggie Tales' version of "Jesus is Just Alright with Me." Quentin's singing enthusiasm seemed to reflect his desire to prove that he really does believe in Jesus.

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

And a few hours later, after the trip to the beach, they were both asleep.

Today's Maia Quotations

2011-06-24T19:46:00.000-04:00

While I was picking out some refried beans at the grocery store, Maia said: "Mom, that's funny! That Italian flag has a big eagle in the middle of it!" (Of course, it was a Mexican flag... but you can tell Maia's adjusted to living in a historically Italian neighborhood.)

Much to my chagrin, I discovered a few days ago that Maia had ripped holes into the Pack n' Play netting by using one of my kitchen knives. After much angst, today brought forth this remark: "Mom, I REALLY wish I was old enough to go to confession because then I could tell Fr. Jim about poking the holes in the Pack n' Play."

Meatless Mondays or Fridays?

2011-06-16T21:43:00.000-04:00

Every once in awhile, I'll hear about something supposedly "new" and think to myself that it's something that Catholics invented a long time ago. Such is the case with these "Meatless Mondays." A friend of mine proudly told me about her family's efforts to have one day a week where they abstain from meat. Now it's made it into the NY Times. And guess what, Catholics have been having one day a week where they don't eat meat for... well, a pretty long time. It's still required by canon law, although here in the U.S. our episcopal conference has allowed us to substitute another sacrifice instead, though meat abstinence maintains a place of honor for Friday sacrifice.

Of course, there's nothing alliterative about "Meatless Fridays," but it is the day on which our Lord died. And that means the motivation is not simply all the natural benefits hyped by MMers... there's also a supernatural motivation and benefit. How can we make Friday meat abstinence "cool" again?

Three Pearls in an Oyster Shell

2011-06-13T21:58:00.002-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Patrick in Motion

2011-06-13T21:20:00.003-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

I guess I don't have any good videos of Patrick crawling... but he is, and has been for awhile now. Above, Maia explains all.

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Patrick really loves the water. In the above video, he moves himself around the pool with the help of a floatation device (under the supervision of an adult, of course).

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Patrick also loves standing and doing "pull ups" on whatever he can. Above, notice also his attempt at a wave and a "hi."

In the next installment of Patrick in motion, look for "Patrick Uses a Walker." He's almost eight months and working on figuring out how to push the walker forward and still stay up. He seems to be on track to walking at 10 months, just like his sisters were.

Pure Delight

2011-06-13T20:51:00.000-04:00

Untitled from Theologian Mom on Vimeo.

Above, Eva entertains Patrick by jumping on some air-filled packaging bags. Patrick obliges her with laughter. Then Eva becomes concerned that Patrick is eating paper, and the fun ends.

Activities for the Talented?

2011-06-09T20:51:00.013-04:00

"Dear Level Accelerated Girls Parents,

Congratulations your daughter has been selected and identified as a talented gymnast. You are cordially invited to move up to the Accelerated Gymnastic Team....

"Please be advised that team children are only entitled to a two week vacation per year.

"Injury policy: 2 weeks or less: Injuries that require two week break or less will not receive any price credit. For these minor injuries, speak to your coach about strength/flexibility/workout program that is custom designed to work around these minor injuries. 3 weeks or greater: tuition will depend on the extent of the injury."

The above is excerpted from a letter I received in the mail from Maia's gym. In case you can't tell, she goes to a "real gym" where they actually have teams that compete. Although it really shouldn't have, this brief letter through me into a state of confusion about what I truly want for my children...and what I should want.

Aside from vicariously living out my own unfulfilled gymnastic ambitions, are there any real reasons why I would subject my daughter to an accelerated gymnastics program, where at age five, she has to practice twice a week and only gets a two-week vacation? Or where at age seven she has to practice three times a week and starts competing on the weekend? And how could we possibly afford to pay double or triple or quadruple what we pay now, given that we consider Maia's gymnastics to be a luxury (or at least, an unnecessary expense)?

Of course, the first answer is that I want her to be successful at something she enjoys. With persistent training throughout the next few years, she could no doubt be improve her skill. Part of me feels bad about limiting her by not letting her do accelerated gymnastics. If she could be the next Shawn Johnson, who am I to stand in the way? But as Jeff noted, we specifically DON'T want her to be an Olympic gymnast. We don't want her subjected to that pressure, mentally or physically.

When I received this letter, I realized that I had not given much thought to my children's future in terms of activities. Or, I should say that I had not decided upon a plan. Because actually, I have given children's activities some thought, ever since I read a compelling article about the rise in athletic injuries among children, who spend far more time training in one specific sport year-round than before, and pay this price physically, not just in their childhood, but often in terms of permanent injuries. Conversation with "soccer moms" or, more accurately "soccer-chorus-baseball-theater-basketball-synchronized swimming-gymnastics-band moms" has confirmed my feeling that young children spend a little too much time in organized activities, as opposed just to playing with friends.

What's a mom to do? Well, I sought the advice of a well-established mother, with nine children ranging in age from 22 to in utero. A Princeton grad, married to another Princeton grad, and the oldest two kids now students at Notre Dame. Here are some of her tips for controling the activites with a large family:

1. Don't have your kids do any "gym" sports, like martial arts or gymnastics. They take too much time and money. If your child gets injured (or in their case, they had a daughter who became anorexic due to the pressure of her sports activity), it's all over.

2. Don't put your kids in anything that you personally don't like (unless they really insist). Her example was t-ball/baseball. She found games to be absolutely boring, especially because her kids sometimes had little or no action in the games.

3. Don't do travel sports. Kids can have fun and learn discipline and skill by playing local soccer games. No need to drive two hours away to compete.

4. One child-one sport per season. No overscheduling. She said she had a son in lacrosse and soccer at the same time, and neither coach was forgiving of the inevitable missed practices.

5. One child-one musical instrument. After experimenting with suzuki violin lessons, they decided just to stick with school band lessons. Practicing the instruments is a must for continuing because otherwise their failure is bad for their self-esteem.

6. Swimming is the best family sport. City swim leagues are the only sport where the age range is from 6-18. Have your kids swim, and they all practice at the same time and compete in the same meet. It makes it so easy.

7. Trial and error. You can just tell when something is not working out, and you have to be willing to let it go and learn from your mistakes. Don't get too attached to the kids' activities.

8. Don't let it stress the kids. Kids are kids. They shouldn't have extreme pressure in regard to competition (and those parent-coaches who say they don't care about winning are lying). When one of their younger sons was told in 7th grade that he needed to cut weight for a wrestling meet that was right after Christmas, they had him cut wrestling instead. Kids need to eat and grow and learn and be happy. Beware of athletic pressure on the kids. While their oldest two had eleven varsity letters each in high school, their third, who was even more a natural athlete, just couldn't handle the stress.

9. Big rocks in first. She said it sounds trite, but that's how it is. Mass and family Rosary on Sunday are top priorities. But after that, if there's a swim practice or swim meet, that's ok. They don't have a "not on Sunday" rule for activities. For them, academics always come first. Sometimes their kids have to miss a practice because they have a school project.

So, as you may have guessed our "talented gymnast" is not going to do accelerated gymnastics. We still don't have a "plan," but I think Maia's going to be a great swimmer, just like her mom, and all of her younger siblings.

Roll the ball!

2011-05-26T22:39:00.000-04:00

In this video, the kids were playing a game of roll-the-ball. Surprisingly, Patrick seemed to understand this game better than Eva, who kept jumping in and cutting off her little bro's turn.

How to Resurrect a Parish

2011-05-26T22:36:00.000-04:00

Jeff and I are not the church-shopping types. This once Protestant phenomenon (fueled largely in the U.S. by religious voluntarism) has recently become frequent among Catholics as well. But when our family moved to Jersey, we did not look around for a good church; we just went to the neighborhood Catholic parish. After our vibrant church in Dayton, Ohio where we were good friends with Fr. Satish, it was a bit of a different environment, and it took some time to adjust.

Then last summer our parish got a new pastor, and it has inspired me recently to think about what a pastor can do to revive a languishing parish.

1. Smile. Be nice. You'd think this point would be obvious, but sometimes we Catholics get a little caught up in the "liberal-conservative" dichotomy, thinking that a pastor's theological viewpoint is what gets people in the pews. Actually, most of all, people want a pastor that is nice and seems happy to see them - not annoyed, disappointed or cynical. Even at times when our pastor could have justly been upset by something, he has remained calm, peaceful, and polite. No one likes to hear a cellphone ringing during Mass. But once I heard someone apologize to our priest for it, and he just smiled and said not to worry - no reprimand whatsoever. That's a good response because people who get chastised by their parish priest for something like that don't really want to see him again anytime soon. Of course, this doesn't mean there's no time or place for a pastor to be critical, but being charitable and reaching out is really the first step.

2. Prioritize Mass, the Sacraments, and other prayer opportunities. The best words of welcome a priest can utter are "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." The priest's liturgical function is of the utmost importance, not just out of the necessity for a presider (which it is), but also because the priest models prayer when he leads the congregation in the Mass. A priest who is truly praying the Mass inspires the people in the pews to do the same. Also, the sacraments need to be easily available to people. In my parish in California, I saw the effects of stringent catechetical-educational requirements for parents who wanted their children baptized. Despite that pastor's good intentions, the result was that parents crossed the border and had their kids baptized in Mexico instead. Likewise, parishioners won't come to confession during confession time if the priest is not in the confessional. Add confession times (our pastor added it every day before daily Mass), stay in the confessional, preach on confession, and people will come.This applies to other liturgical services as well - no one will attend stations of the cross if there aren't any.

3. Care about the dead. Everyone in the pews now will some day be dead. And until then, many will lose loved ones and miss them terribly. And of course, the dead are still part of the mystical body. So there are some good reasons for a priest to pray for the dead, mention the dead, ask others to pray for the dead, and go out of his way to help family mourn the passing of a loved one.

4. Make the parish a place of social gatherings. "If you can't bring them in the front door, bring them in the back door," I've heard is one philosophy of our current pastor. Our parish went from having basically no social events to having at least one (sometimes more) each month, whether for kids or adults. Many - like the Mardi Gras baby Jesus hidden in a cupcake gathering, the St. Patrick's Day party, the St. Joseph's table brunch, the Lenten fish fry, the Easter Egg hunt - were liturgical. But others - like the New Year's party - were not. Regardless, they bring people together, sometimes make money, and make the Church a center of the community.

5. Focus on parish organizations. Make the most of the annual parish festival. People like to be a part of things, and a parish organizations are one way of performing the corporal and spiritual works of mercy in a way that also promotes parish unity. Likewise, the parish festival is not only a fundraising opportunity, but a way to bring people to the Church and help current parishioners to make it their own.

6. Aesthetics matter. Nice liturgical garments, altar cloths, seasonal decorations indicate the importance of the prayer that goes on in the Church. They also, when done well, help facilitate the prayer of the parish. Likewise, attention to the Church grounds is also important to indicate concern for the care and upkeep and future of the parish.

7. One step at a time. Of course, a new pastor can't do everything at once. Our parish definitely shows signs of new life, and more will certainly come, particularly with changes to the religious education program.

8. The money will come. That pastor in California used to preach constantly about tithing; I found it to be annoying and distract from the gospel. Another method is just to make people love and treasure their parish. If they want to belong, if they want to make it their own, if they feel spiritually indebted to it...or even if they are simply visitors impressed with the hospitality (including the aesthetics of the interior and grounds of the church, which really are a part of hospitality), they will give money. Sometimes a few brief promptings are in order, so people understand particular financial situations, but in general the money will come.

9. Rely on the saints - and let people know it. They'll help out the parish and individual parishioners.

Flowers for Mothers

2011-05-26T20:55:00.000-04:00

"Mom!"

"Mom!" I heard Maia calling from the backyard, getting increasingly closer to the kitchen where I was getting the girls' lunches ready.

Finally she walked in, with a small red flower. "I did NOT pick this," she said (she's gotten reprimanded by me for picking the neighbors' flowers). "But I found it, and I think it's a rose, and I wanted to give it to you."

"Thanks, Maia," I said, "that's very thoughtful."

Then on the way out the kitchen door, she cast a glance over her left shoulder toward an icon of Mary.

"Mary," she said, "You share that with my mom. And share it with Jesus too. It's for all of you."

So when I had a break in my work, I put the humble little faded "rose" over by the icon, so Mary and Jesus would know that I overheard Maia's instructions to them and was making an effort to share with them.

Six Years and Counting...

2011-05-21T10:00:00.000-04:00

"Ah, m'ija," said Padre Juan, "It's the same old story. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love with boy. Girl thinks boy is perfect. Girl marries boy. Girl realizes that the only perfect man is Jesus."

These were the words of one of the priests at my parish in California when I informed him that I had met someone who I thought was "the one." He had such a sad look on his face when he said it, too, as though I had announced the death of a family member, rather than the advent of true love.

Over the years, I have mused on his words. Undoubtedly true, even if I didn't want to hear them at that moment. I've repeated those words to myself in moments of frustration. Jeff and I have laughed over them at times, especially relating the story to other people.

But despite the inevitable shortcomings Jeff and I have noticed in each other, it's been a very good six years... and it just keeps getting better.

I think Padre Juan would be happy to hear that.

American Girl

2011-05-16T21:31:00.000-04:00

Maia and I have been really enjoying reading the American Girls historical fiction books, which I've been picking up during library story hour on Wednesday. We finished all of Josefina and now are about half-way through the Molly series. We've also read the first books of Kirsten and Kit (but can't find any of the others at the library - must be checked out).

In each of the books, there is a little section at the end that gives a little history lesson on the time period. At the end of Happy Birthday, Molly!, we read about changes in birthing practices in the 1940s and the popularization of hospital births where infants were separated from their mothers and kept in a separate room where they were fed formula. Both of us thought that just seemed like a bad idea. "Whoever thought that would be a good thing?" I asked Maia.

"Why would they separate moms and babies?" she asked.

"Probably something to do with Enlightenment philosophy," I answered.

"What's that?" Maia asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Umm..." I paused. I had kind of said it without thinking. "You know, prizing the individual, as though persons somehow start off on their own, disconnected from family."

"Oh," she smiled.

"Well, you and I both know that people generally start off connected to people; they are born into a family, not as disconnected individuals. It would take an adult male to come up with that stuff, as it is completely different than the experience of a five year old girl." Maia looked like she might understand what I was saying, even if she didn't know anything about Enlightenment philosophy.

One thing I like about the American Girl books is the way they really emphasize family and social structures. Josefina, a Spanish (and Catholic) girl in New Mexico, is a particularly good model of this. Now if we can just avoid the "doll" issue...

Patrick with Rosary

2011-05-07T14:17:00.000-04:00

Patrick wishes everyone a happy Marian month. He hopes everyone enjoys the Rosary as much as he does.

Maia's Birthday

2011-05-04T21:34:00.000-04:00

I know it's late, but here's a bit about Maia's birthday party...

Maia turned five on Holy Thursday. That morning, we had a cupcake party, wherein her guests (and siblings) decorated cupcakes, with twelve options of frosting and twelve options of topping. Each kid got an apron with her name stenciled onto it. Each guest also took home some cupcakes for her family. Everyone had a fantastic time. It was an easy and very fun party to host.

We have a tradition of putting out Maia's birthday gifts the night before, so she can open them first thing in the morning. This time around, she crawled into bed with me at 6:00 a.m. and informed me she'd already opened all of her gifts... without us. Apparently she forgot that we're all supposed to be there when she opens them. Fortunately, some of them she got past the wrapping, but couldn't open up the boxes. So we got to share in a bit of the excitement.

(Above, Maia decorates her jewelry box at 6:30 a.m. the day of her birthday)

Hiring a Sitter

2011-05-02T22:45:00.001-04:00

For the first time in our marriage, we hired a baby sitter (our previous dates so far have been due to the generosity of family and friends).

What was the important occasion, you might ask?

Easter Vigil, of course. Both Jeff and I wanted to go, but I was absolutely unwilling to wake up all three kids, pull them out of their beds, get them dressed and take them along. So we hired a friendly (Evangelical) high school kid to sit at our house so we could attend. When I went to pick her up, I explained that we were Church nerds and that we'd been waiting all Lent for this.

Patrick woke up while we were gone and did a bit of crying, but the sitter finally managed to get him back to sleep and avoided calling us in the meantime.

So it was a lovely date at Church, followed by cheesecake and Frangelico while putting together the kids' Easter baskets.

"Goodbye..."

2011-05-02T22:25:00.000-04:00

One of Jeff's former bosses (who moved on from seminary administration to university administration), has been helping out at our parish by saying Mass on Friday and Saturday mornings. We decided we should invite the friendly monsignor to breakfast, since he's in our neighborhood anyway.

We do a lot of hosting, and of course the one thing we can never be sure of is how the kids will behave. I mean, we know they'll be themselves, which means they'll act like kids and likely keep us on our toes and possibly embarrass us (like the time back in Dayton that Maia decided to show of her new potty-training skills by bringing her potty-seat out into the living room and urinating in front of one of our guests).

This visit was fairly uneventful. Decent food, good conversation, and then, as the monsignor was taking his leave, he said goodbye to each of the girls. "Eva, it was nice to meet you! Thank you for having me over for breakfast," he said.

"GOODBYE, POOPY!" she yelled, so clearly it could not be misinterpreted.

Ah, kids.

Easter Birthday!

2011-04-24T10:44:00.001-04:00

All dressed up for Easter Sunday Mass!
My birthday cake!

Dad Reads Dr. Seuss

2011-04-22T18:59:00.000-04:00

Theologian Dad, reading Green Eggs and Ham to Eva:

TD: "Would you like them in a box?"

TD: "Would you like them with red socks?

TD: "Would you like them with cream cheese and lox?"

M (from a different room): "Dad, that is NOT how it goes! You're messing it all up!"

"Jesus, see my belly button?"

2011-04-17T21:31:00.000-04:00

At Mass, our little trouble-maker Eva was, well, making trouble. So I gently tried to turn her attention toward the priest elevating the host, whispering that it was Jesus up there. Eva lifted up her dress, and when I tried to pull it back down, she said, "Jesus, see my belly button?"

Archbishop Dolan's Pastoral Letter on Penance

2011-04-16T23:15:00.001-04:00

Today our parish had a "confession day," with confession available all day long in the church, with various guest confessors (for those too shy to go to their own pastor). It reminded me that Archbishop Timothy Dolan did a great letter on penance. Read it if you get the chance.

Out of Practice

2011-04-10T19:38:00.000-04:00

When my husband and I embarked upon parenthood, just one month short of our first wedding anniversary, we were both students, and we had a shared childcare arrangement wherein we split time watching the baby and our work responsibilities (taking classes and teaching classes). It was stressful, but we managed, albeit with very little sleep and a fair amount of vying for work time.

Now our roles have shifted from a 50-50 type arrangement to a more traditional one wherein I spend most of my time with the children, and he goes to work and brings in the money. This is a much more relaxed and workable situation. To be honest, I really enjoy spending my days with the kids (even if I do sometimes complain about the "servile labor," which can kind of take over if I let it). And my husband really enjoys his work environment (excepting the profusion of meetings). Moreover, it definitely seems to be better for the kids to have a stay-at-home-mom, rather than to be a take-to-school-kid, which Maia, and to some extent Eva, definitely was.

But the downside of this is that we both can be a little out of practice with the other side. For example, last week Jeff gave me the opportunity to listen to a lecture given by Bill Cavanaugh. Jeff was at work, so I drove to campus with the three kids and he watched them run around campus and tear through the seminary while I heard the lecture. Aside from my guilt at usurping Jeff's chance to attend (Cavanaugh's work relates more to his own than to mine), I have to admit that just being at a lecture made me realize how out of practice I've gotten at being an academic. I didn't have any difficulty understanding the talk, which was all pretty standard fare for Cavanaugh, but I definitely felt like an outsider seeing all the profs (who are neither my teachers nor my colleagues) and seeing all the undergrads (who are a bit like strange creatures to me now that I'm not teaching).

I've also noticed that on the rare occasion I get into an academic discussion with someone other than my husband, I have a dearth of knowledge where there used to be ready information. This can make me feel like I'm losing my ability to do theology. And though I've been fairly committed to my work hours, the truth of the matter is just that I spend 90% of my time playing with kids, feeding kids, wiping tushes, doing laundry, sweeping the floor, etc. I like to think that it's making me a better and even happier person. But to some extent it's also making me unable to talk the talk of theology.

(Above, the hard work of a stay-at-home-mom)

Meanwhile, my husband has been *trying* to give me *all day Friday* for me to do my own work. It's great in theory and on paper that he ends up with a long Thursday work day and then sacrifices Friday for me to get my work done. But in practice, by the time we've gone to separate daily Masses and assisted each other in running Maia to and from school (without taking Eva and Patrick), there really aren't that many hours left. Moreover, my husband seems to have very little stamina for dealing with the kids all day. Part of that is the consistently nasty Friday weather that keeps him homebound trying to keep the kids out of my office (located next to their playroom). Part of it is that he's simply tired by the end of the week. But I also think that part of it is that he's a little out of practice. He's a fantastic teacher (as I'm always hearing from his students, when I run into them), a top-notch researcher, and a great colleague for his coworkers. The more he lives the academic life, the better he gets.

This is not to say that he's not a good dad. He is; it just makes him really tired because he's not used to the crazy world of facilitating three children. Likewise, I don't think I've become a "bad" academic. Just a little out of practice. Hopefully it will all come back to me so long as I don't lose it altogether. At least, as I said above, it seems to be a happier life for our kids.

Highlights from Patrick's March

2011-04-02T11:56:00.000-04:00

The Duck Bunny

2011-04-02T11:53:00.001-04:00

Maia came home with an interesting craft from nursery school. At first I thought it was a duck.
Then she flipped it over and showed me that it was a bunny.

Of course I thought of Wittgenstein.

The Conundrum of Post-Vatican II Lenten Sacrifices

2011-03-09T02:59:00.000-05:00

Prior to 1966, when the United States bishops released their pastoral letter modifying the practice of Lenten fasting, every Catholic shared a common Lenten sacrifice. That fasting - now restricted to Ash Wednesday and Good Friday - was something done every day, by everyone (aside from those who were dispensed for various reasons and substituted other sacrifices).

Now that we all have the "freedom" to choose our own Lenten sacrifices, we often end up in a conundrum. Do we tell people or not tell people about our chosen sacrifice?

If we tell them, will it lead to spiritual pride on our part? Will we seem to be bragging? Will it make them feel jealous or competitive? If we hear about others' sacrifices, will it make our own seem insufficient? Will it make us feel that we should be trying to do something more difficult? Or can it challenge us and help us to support others?

If we don't tell people, how do we hide our sacrifices from people in a way that's not obnoxious and doesn't make us seem unusual (especially if we're hosting guests or visiting others)? How do we avoid getting spiritually prideful about our little "hidden" sacrifices?

It would seem best just not to tell people about our Lenten sacrifice, except that it can really help to feel like we're being supported. When everyone had the same sacrifice, it was something that everyone did together. It was a communal activity that did not require explanation and did not have to be hidden (from other Catholics, that is). It was not about individual willpower, as our Lenten sacrifices now tend to be.

In a family context, a spouse (and even children) can be a good support for Lenten sacrifices.

The Obligatory Baby Dancing Video

2011-03-07T23:38:00.001-05:00

Really, though, do you see how much he's smiling? He LOVES dancing!

Budding Iconographer?

2011-03-07T23:05:00.000-05:00

Maia made this picture - three angels sitting at a table. I asked her where she got the idea for it and she said, "I don't know, I just had it in my head." They're the angels that Abraham gave dinner to."

I thought this was just absolutely amazing. How did she know that story? And how could she by chance draw it so similar in format to the famous Rublev icon?

I shared my amazement with Jeff when he returned from work. He reminded me that the Rublev icon is the wallpaper on his laptop. In other words it was probably in Maia's mind because she sees it on his computer.

Oh, well.

Weddings and Children

2011-03-05T21:54:00.000-05:00

The above photo captures one of the most delightful elements of our wedding, namely, our lovely flower girl and ring bearer. Children have an unbelievable excitement for what they recognize as important events. And having children share closely in our special day made it all the more special for us. They made it, well, fun!
Here in the United States, it's become commonplace to exclude children from weddings, for various reasons - the noise, the expense, the hassle, the number, the distraction. I had never given the issue much thought until I went to a friend's wedding shortly after Maia was born. I took her without even thinking, but when I arrived I found another friend had left her daughter at home because she said it was the bride's preference. Oops! I hadn't even thought to ask permission to bring my newborn...
But if I had, and she'd said no, I wouldn't have gone to the wedding. I really prefer not to leave my babies (especially nursing babies) with other people, even for short periods of time. Not all women are like this; in fact many don't mind getting a sitter. Some people even say that they enjoy the events more when they're not worried about their children behaving.
In the last year, my husband and I were invited to two weddings where our children were specifically not invited. Overpersonalizing as I tend to do, I took the first invitation as a non-invitation of me, not just my children. That was probably unfair. But I would have loved to attend the wedding, just didn't know how I could leave my kids with a stranger out-of-town. For the second wedding, the parents of the bride arranged for a sitter for our kids, and the hotel was only minutes from the reception, so it was very convenient. I appreciated that extra effort on their part because it communicated that they really did want both Jeff and I to attend the wedding, and they also invited our whole family to the rehearsal and the morning after brunch. During the wedding weekend, we were only away from the girls for a few hours.
But, nonetheless... do children belong at weddings? At the risk of revealing that I've once again been catching up on the upcoming royal wedding, it seems that Kate Middleton and Prince William think that children do belong at a wedding. Check this out, aside from the maid of honour and the best man, everyone in the bridal party are children of family and friends, and are ages 7, 8, 3, 3, 10, and 8. Three are the prince's godchildren. Maybe this is just customary in England - I don't know. I'm curious to see how they'll pull this off, especially with the two 3-year old girls. Imagine the logistics of getting that many children to behave at a wedding!
But it made me think that, cohabitation question aside, perhaps William and Kate understand the importance of children. It makes sense for a royal couple in particular to realize the value of continuing the family line. I was struck by this too because of the Mass reading for Saturday from the book of Sirach (44:11-13):

"Their wealth remains in their families,
their heritage with their descendants;
Through God’s covenant with them their family endures,
their posterity, for their sake.

And for all time their progeny will endure,
their glory will never be blotted out."

Once I was at a funeral for someone I didn't know (this happened frequently at my parish in California as they just used their daily Mass slot for funerals, if necessary; I never knew when I went to Mass in the morning if it would be a funeral or not), and it turned out to be an experience I would never forget. At the very end of the service, the priest asked the ten children of the deceased, elderly man to step forward near the altar. He then asked the grandchildren to step forward; each of the ten children had at least four of their own, so this was about 40 people (adults). Then he asked the great-grandchildren to come forward. Then the great-great-grandchildren. By the end of this there were well over 100 people up there. Wow - imagine living to see yourself having that many descendants.

Of course, it's the rare couple that does live to see that many descendants, and of course, it's not really the number of descendants that matters anyway. It's the fact of our own lives being short - of us being part of a larger story in which we are merely the trustees for the next generation.

Getting back to my main point, marriage and children seem to go together well. A marriage is the environment in which children are best nurtured and raised. In our modern culture, however, we are tending to push kids out of marriages (hence DINKs who choose to be DINKs, sometimes forever, sometimes for a decade or more or less) and I guess it's no surprise that kids also get excluded from weddings. Weddings are becoming adults-only events, excluding that simple joy and excitement of children, who not only make the day special, but also, foreshadow the joy that is still to come, as well as the continuation of God's promises for future generations that will share in the faith.

You shouldn't have to have a royal concern for continuing the family line to want to include children at a wedding, right?

Why are kids so difficult?

2011-03-02T21:05:00.000-05:00

It's probably a comment you've heard before. Someone with one kid is telling you that she doesn't know if she will ever have another, because "Kids are just so difficult." This comment is likely followed by some story about her particular child throwing tantrums, destroying property, hitting other kids, climbing furniture, not listening, or whatever. Sometimes you'll hear this comment from a mother who has two young children, saying that there's just no way she could ever handle three.

I was thinking about this today when I ran into an acquaintance as I was walking to the library with Eva and Patrick for song & story. Her son is almost three, and, no doubt, he is difficult. In the few occasions our kids have played together, he has hit or kicked or otherwise attacked Eva in some form. Of course, I didn't like that, but I can forgive him because, well, he's a kid. But when she made the comment about being afraid to have another, I started musing about why kids today are so difficult.

Of course, there's always a tendency to romanticize the "good old days." And perhaps I do that, especially since I'm writing my dissertation on 1955-1975. Just recently I've been reading a book on the sacrament of confession that was published in 1969. Wow - the presumptions about family life are just amazing.

Anyway, why are kids so difficult? Here are some of my hypotheses.

1. They have too much attention. I remember hearing advice once that those first two kids should be 18 months apart, to take the pressure off the first. Patrick and Eva were 22 months apart, and that to me seemed pretty challenging. But I also understand the point, and sometimes, like when I was talking to this acquaintance today about how "difficult" her child is, I think to myself that maybe he'd be a little easier if he'd been forced to share attention early on and been given a permanent playmate. Between Maia and Eva there are 2 years, 9 months, and I remember by the time I was pregnant with Eva thinking that Maia was definitely showing symptoms of being "an only child." In my experience, I would say that two can be easier than one. And, yes, three can be easier than two.

2. Modern society has little room for children. This might just be my romanticization of the past, again. But, back when there were more children, people expected to see more children, and there were more accommodations for children. This is not to say that kids were welcome at the opera or the business meeting, but at events like weddings and places like churches, people didn't think it odd that there were children present. Nowadays, it can be hard to go from having a happening childless life to finding suddenly that many of the things you used to do are now off-limits with young children or at least bring you glares from strangers: things like flying on an airplane, going to a coffee shop, browsing in a bookstore, eating at a nice restaurant, seeing a movie in a theater, and so on.

3. Less family emphasis/people are more selfish now. Many parents today grew up in small families, where they got much of what they wanted and basically just worried about themselves. Even those who were raised with expectations of family service may have had self-centered single lives prior to marriage. Even people who think they are giving, service-oriented people (like myself), may find themselves fighting selfishness as parents. I know I struggle with wanting to keep my possessions nice, clean and in good shape (like I'd prefer the dining room chairs NOT to have holes poked in them with a pen). I'd rather NOT get off the treadmill to wipe a tushy. I'd like to set my own sleeping hours. My kids interfere with my desires sometimes, and that makes them seem difficult.

4. Isolated single-family homes. As parents, we often feel like we're simply on our own. We have to do it all ourselves, with our children. Or we have to pay someone to watch our kids or clean our house so we don't have to do it all ourselves. Kids will definitely seem difficult in this situation, but it takes some humility reach out for help, or even just accept help. But help is available... even neighbor kids can be a good help.

5. Medicalization/safety/bureaucratization issues. I should ask my mom if she had to go to 13 prenatal visits when she was pregnant with me, or take me as an infant for check-ups every two months. Now, I'm a fan of vaccines and keeping my kids healthy, and I think prenatal care is important, but let's be honest, it can make kids seem difficult. Especially when you're pregnant with your third and you have to tote the other two around to your appointments. Just recently I had a challenging time taking all three kids to a lab so that Eva could get a urinalysis to see if she has a UTI. Let me tell you, there's nothing like trying to get your 2-year old to pee in a cup while your baby's crying in a stroller and your almost-5-year old is asking when you can go home... oh, and there's a line outside the bathroom.

Also related to medicalization is safety issues. The paranoia about kids' safety has made kids seem difficult. Car seats, not leaving kids in cars alone, not letting kids play outside alone, choking hazards and so on... these are all great safety precautions that have no doubt saved many lives. But they also make kids difficult (and more expensive); anything is a potential hazard. And I've talked to many parents who have their "confessions" to make about the one time they ________________ when they knew they shouldn't have done it (fill in the blank with something like "left the baby in the tub to answer the phone," "left the baby asleep in the crib to pick up another kid from school," "let the toddler eat food unsupervised while I ran to the bathroom," etc.). Being so vigilant is definitely difficult.

Also related is bureaucratization, for example, the 20-page long packet I'm supposed to fill out for Maia to start public kindergarten next year. Kids now require a lot of paperwork. And that makes them seem difficult.

6. Sleep changes. For thousands of years, mothers slept with their babies and nursed through the night. These women got much more sleep than mothers today. Kids can certainly be trained to sleep by themselves, alone in a dark room, and parents (tucked into bed cozied up with each other, I might add) can get a full night's sleep (minus the time they spent staying up late watching television or checking email or writing a blogpost or talking on their cell or writing on people's Facebook walls...which, by the way, is not their kids' fault). The normalization of the crib and separate sleeping has definitely made kids seem difficult. That's why parents of infants/toddlers spend so much time talking about their kids' sleep patterns/challenges. I can't tell you how many conversations about kid sleep I've participated in or overheard.

7. Formula. It may have seemed to make kids easier, and bottles (whether formula or breastmilk) do allow women more independence, which has its benefits. But really - spending money, sterilizing, mixing, warming, toting around everywhere. Not easy. Not to mention that formula-fed babies are more likely to get sick, so more trips to the doctor.

8. Technology. Television, computers, cell phones. Yes, they can keep your kid busy, even quiet, possibly even sitting still for extended periods of time. But they also rewire your kids' brains. And, as I've witnessed in regard to kids aged 10 and older, these pieces of technology become serious sources of tension between parent and child. Maia, who sees very little television (only ND football games and shows when she's at other people's houses), loves watching movies, and we've had various arguments about when/how much/for what reason (usually Sunday, 30 minutes, or if Mom's combing out lice) movies are acceptable...and which movies are acceptable. Technology may make kids seem easier. But I think it's possible that it actually makes them more difficult.

9. Giving kids "everything." They need nice clothes, good shoes, a great cellphone, a trip to Disney, a PSP, an X-box, an i-pod, a laptop, a portable DVD player, gymnastics lessons, trips to the beach, a Y membership, a beautifully decorated bedroom of their own, piano lessons, a cute haircut, elaborate (and expensive) birthday parties, sleepovers, a playroom, a fancy Easter dress, regular meals at Panera, frappuccinos from Starbucks, playdates, and one heck of a huge toybox. Yes, if you try to give your kids everything, that will be difficult. And they will become more difficult because of it.
One friend with a large family told my husband that it's not having nine kids that's tough - it's having two kids that's tough. I'm not sure about that (nor do I think I'll find out!), but I do think that part of kids' seeming difficult is societal expectations (formula, separate sleeping, excluding children from normal life, parental selfishness, the desire to give a kid "everything," safety paranoia, the normalcy of technology). On the other hand, kids can be genuinely difficult. We can accept those challenges and try to use them to make ourselves and them better people. Or we can decide to stop at having one kid and spend the rest of their childhood focusing on how difficult it is to raise a child.

The good news is that kids actually do grow up. They don't stay 2 years old forever.

Childhood Excitement

2011-02-20T18:57:00.000-05:00

(The drawing above is unrelated to this post - just showing off Maia's artwork.)

Little kids get so excited, it's true, and it's one of the neatest parts of having kids - sharing in their excitement. Last week I mentioned that Maia is really excited about receiving the Eucharist. Yesterday I came downstairs, and Maia addressed me as follows:

M: "Mom, I just CAN'T WAIT to die!"

TM: "What? Why?"

M: "I said, I can't wait to die! I can't wait to see Jesus face to face! That will be awesome!"

TM: "Oh, ok, that's, uh, I mean, that's really great, honey! But what made you think of it?"

M: "Well, I was playing with these Barbie dolls here..." (yes, some Barbie dolls snuck into the house while I wasn't looking) "and then one of them, the pregnant one" (pregnant and NOT showing, I should add) "died, and I thought, wow, sad, but then I thought, no that's great because now she gets to see Jesus! And then that just made me really excited to die!"

TM: "That's fantastic, Maia, but not too soon. I think God has some things for you to do here on earth first."

M: "Oh, alright."

Maia and Patrick Agree...

2011-02-16T19:33:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you just need to suck your thumb.

Head, Shoulders...

2011-02-04T21:54:00.000-05:00

Honestly, he was laughing hysterically with this, until Maia began filming. But even without the laughter, he's pretty cute, isn't he?

Then Maia thought she needed a turn.

Anticipating the Eucharist

2011-02-01T18:32:00.000-05:00

While munching on a demi-baguette, Maia spontaneously said:

"Mom, the day that I receive Jesus in communion for the first time, I don't think I'll eat anything else that day. I'll just be so happy to have Jesus. Because he's the nicest man in the whole world ever, right? And imagine, I get to have him."

A few hours later, I walked into the kitchen to find Daddy explaining to Maia that the "accidents remain the same" in reference to the Eucharist.

This time Maia had other things on her mind. "Great, Dad, now can I have some more ice cream?"

Happy Feast!

2011-01-28T11:00:00.000-05:00

Abstinence before marriage...

2011-01-26T18:47:00.001-05:00

Thanks to my sis for sending me the link to this interesting Economist article, which relates the findings of a study on waiting to have sex until after marriage.

Royal Cohabitating

2011-01-24T18:42:00.000-05:00

(Which do you like - the cuddly engagement photo or the formal?)

In a recent mini-obsession following Prince William's engagement to Kate Middleton, I had to do a little reading about the princess-to-be. Part of me just finds it fascinating that England still has royalty - prestige and honor based solely on lineage. During my reading of a few (it really was only a few, ok, a handful) articles, I came upon some interesting tidbits, like that Kate's ring is worth $250,000 and was the same one worn by Princess Di. My first reaction to that was, hey, that's not that much at all. Then I realized it makes her left hand worth more than our house.

Anyway, I also came across this line in an article - oh, wait, I tried to find the article again on Google, but so much more has been written about Kate Middleton (predictions on her gown, wedding gift donations to their favorite charities, she quit her job to prepare for the wedding - you name it!) since I initially read it that I couldn't find it. So, I'll just paraphrase, and you'll have to believe me, that the article mentioned she and Prince William are currently "road-testing" their marriage by living together (no servants! aside from security) in an undisclosed location. It was just a throwaway line, which indicates that no one in England thinks anything of cohabitation these days.

The line struck me as interesting for a few different reasons. One was that the same article emphasized how careful she and Prince William were never to arrive together at events such as friends' weddings during their EIGHT years of dating. The article also noted that being the Prince's girlfriend does not get you security paid on the royal tab. Middleton was constantly bothered by paparazzi. To the world, she had to be NOT in any way officially connected to her boyfriend. But once they were engaged, why not move in together?

Another thing that I found interesting is that Rowan Williams will be witnessing to the couple's marriage. I'm assuming that Williams knows that they are living together prior to marriage, though I'm not implying that he somehow officially sanctioned the betrothal slumber party.

Let's be real, here. At my own pre-cana retreat of 12 couples, my fiance and I were the ONLY ones NOT cohabitating. America or England, cohabitation has become the norm. Here in the U.S., it's perhaps more interesting that we bother to get married at all; my family's two European foreign exchange students are in the long-term-live-together-with-no-formal-commitment situation. I recognize that whether secular, Anglican or "Catholic," cohabitation has become morally acceptable and even expected. But don't forget that the Catholic Church is still opposed to it. I've heard of some dioceses requiring a more strenuous marriage preparation course for couples who are cohabitating. In many places though, I think people are just happy that couples still find it meaningful to get married in the Catholic church.

Looking at it historically, Christians have been opposed to cohabitation (meaning just the man and the woman living together prior to marriage) for, basically, well, forever. In a different vein, another interesting tidbit that's sociological rather than historical is that cohabitation statistically increases the chance of divorce. But then, divorce has a long history in the Church of England, which also was the first Christian body to sanction contraception.

So I was tempted to call this post, "Blame it on the Anglicans," but of course, whether Henry VIII or Prince William, the trends of royalty are sometimes just the trends of the time, although the actions of royalty also affirm and sanction the trends.

(Our royalty - Prince Patrick Poopypants, as he's often called in our household)

The pre-cana retreat I mentioned earlier, however, must certainly prevent me from blaming cohabitation on the Anglicans (and their royalty). Recently a professor who was going to have to respond to a question about changing Catholic rules regarding marriage asked me what I would say. What should be done in regard to the reality of people's lives today, where contraception, premarital sex, and cohabitating are so normative?

(Parenting is fun, especially the third time around!)

A tough question, and I'm no church policymaker. All I could say was based on what we've tried to do, namely, prove that living up to the Catholic "rules" is not only possible, but fulfilling. Moving in together AFTER the wedding instead of months or years before, makes the wedding day itself more exciting...as does not engaging in premarital sex. To some of our relatives it may have seemed strange or "old-fashioned," but I think they also found it intriguing. Likewise, the joy of having children early in the marriage (which is also unusual today in our socioeconomic class) is something we also wanted to share with those who knew us. We wanted it to be clear that our marriage wasn't just for us and that ours was a life-giving love.

When we recently moved to a new place, away from our insulated grad-student-pro-NFP community, we faced the challenge of making new friends, whether Maia's school classmates' parents, the neighbors, or the people in the pews at our new church. We have managed to fit in well, making our house a place of real hospitality, where neighborhood kids drop by for dinner and where many others (who are actually invited) also come for dinner...or playdates. We haven't done anything to broadcast our "traditional" values. We just live them, strengthening each other in the hardships and enjoying our growing family.

(The joy of matching bath towels!)

I think we've fooled everyone into thinking we're normal, nice, everyday sorts of people.

But once we have more than three kids (and enjoy it!), I'm sure we'll start to raise some eyebrows.

Asleep...

2011-01-19T21:09:00.001-05:00

After pulling an all-nighter (for no apparent reason), Eva fell asleep in her high chair while Jeff was getting her lunch.

Three Kings

2011-01-19T20:51:00.000-05:00

We celebrated the end of the Christmas season on the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord by having an Epiphany party. "Epiphany" is a word that names not one event, but many, in particular, the visit of the Magi, the baptism of Jesus, and Jesus' first miracle at the wedding of Cana. It's a French tradition to have kings' cake (with a baby Jesus hidden inside) every week between Epiphany and Ash Wednesday. It took me two tries to get the kings' cake right for our party. Maia found the baby in the cake, so she's responsible for planning the next party and baking the next cake. ;)

At the party, we read Tomie de Paola's "The Three Wise Kings," and then each of the kids decorated a crown. Well, in some cases, the moms made the crown for the kid (notice my fine handiwork on Patrick's crown above). It was a fun time.

I have to say that when you keep your Advent and Christmas basically separate, Christmas seems to go by way too quickly. Especially when the rest of the world has stopped celebrating.

Following our pastor's lead (and, I guess, European custom), I'm letting the girls keep playing with their Nativity set until the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord on 2 February.

Sleeping...

2011-01-06T15:46:00.000-05:00

How can one little boy and his sleep sheep take up so litte of a crib...

...yet so much of a king-sized bed?

Ready for the Eucharist

2011-01-01T10:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I walked up to communion with Patrick facing forward in the sling, per the usual. But unlike the usual, Fr. Jim, who normally distributes the body of Christ with all the solemnity due to the act, broke out with a huge smile.

After the Mass he told me, "I nearly gave your son communion today! He just looked so eager for it, I almost couldn't stop myself."

Fr. Jim is a dual rite priest (Roman and Byzantine), so he has given the Eucharist to babies before. But in Patrick's case, he's going to be waiting for awhile.

Doesn't Patrick look good in black though? I can already see him dressed in clerics...

Patrick Laughing

2010-12-22T22:55:00.000-05:00

Maranatha Chocolate and Christmas Trees

2010-12-22T21:44:00.001-05:00

For the past few years, I've had a chocolate-filled Advent calendar. The girls have become sharers in the tradition, and now, first thing upon entering the kitchen in the morning I hear two voices saying: "Maranatha, can I have some chocolate?" But wait - they know that "Maranatha," means "Come, Lord Jesus," not "Can I have some chocolate?" Right? Yes, they do.

I have to say that I love Advent. Every night since it started we've been lighting our wreath and singing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" as a family. But waiting is hard, isn't it? To intensify my longing for Christmas (and as an act of penance, since Advent is penitential), I gave up sweets for Advent again this year. Wow, am I ready for Christmas. Making cookies for Maia's preschool class and helping her and a friend decorate a gingerbread house have thrust me into the throes of temptation. I've survived, but bring on the sweets, I say!!!

Because we like to keep our Advent and Christmas distinct, we only recently started pulling out the Christmas decorations. For little Maia, who is SOOOO EXCITED about Christmas, the decoration procrastination has been VERY difficult. We finally went to get a tree last weekend. We had fond memories of our last tree that we got in Dayton (usually we're traveling, so this is only our second time having a tree) at Young's. We loved hiking through various trees, picking ours out, cutting it down, putting it on a sled, having it shook out and tied to the roof, and so on. Maia remembers the wonderful hot cocoa and popcorn in the barn by the Christmas tree farm.

So I looked up a place where we could cut down our own tree, and we finally (in Maia's mind "FINALLY") headed out to get a tree last weekend. When we arrived however, we found some bad news. The place only took cash or check, which we didn't have. And the trees all started at $65. Yes, $65. If you're from Jersey reading this, you're probably saying, well, yeah, of course, and that's a good deal. But if you're from Iowa or Ohio, you're probably thinking - $65!!!!, to cut down your own tree? And of course, there was no hot cocoa, nor popcorn, included in that price. Above is a picture of the girls with the trees.

After a brief walk around, we got back into the van, with two somewhat confused girls. "But what about the tree? Aren't we going to cut down a tree? What about the tree?" To which we responded, "Let's go get some hot chocolate first."

We went to the mainstreet of this town, hoping to find a quaint little local coffee shop. But we didn't know the area, and we didn't find it, so we ended up at Panera in your typcial strip-mall shopping center. Maia and Eva split a hot cocoa, but Maia really wanted to try the peppermint hot chocolate, even though I didn't think she'd like it. She didn't, and she didn't drink it either. Eva did, however, and she managed to get the lid off when we were back on the road, picture below.

As we headed back toward home, Jeff and I were making plans in a quiet tone, suggesting places where we'd seen trees on the side of the road. We stopped at the one across from the Y, got the kids out, took a glance and then found out that they only took cash, too, and that the trees started at $45. We got back in, and it looked like Maia had tears in her eyes. She probably couldn't figure out why we were driving all over the place getting in and out without getting a tree.

Then we stopped at the place across from the train station, and ended up getting our tree there, with a blank check Jeff found in his wallet. The tree had obviously been sitting out there for a long time; most likely it had been cut before Thanksgiving. It was kind of small, and the men who sold it to us seemed a little strange. $40. To me, that still seems like a lot of money for a tree.

But anyway, we had succeeded. Jeff had it in his head that we would decorate the tree on Christmas Eve - yeah, right! This was clearly the thought of an adult. Maia was so excited that she wanted to start immediately! Oops- no stand. I had to go buy one. When we finally did start putting on the lights, the tree skirt, the angel on top, and the ornaments, Maia was out of her mind happy. Eva was having a lot of fun too. They both liked looking at all of my childhood ornaments. (My mom did a great job labeling our ornaments and putting dates on them, and Maia loved the glitter-tree ornament with my second grade photograph on it.)

When it was all finished, I was sitting in the chair, looking at it with my cynical, critical adult self. It's small, I thought - too small for the space. And too crowded with ornaments since it's so small. I wanted to put the star on top, I thought, but the top was so crooked we had to use the angel. It's so dry, I thought, I can already see needles all over the floor. It's a little lop-sided near the bottom, I thought. And there's a patch on the tree where there aren't enough lights. We paid $40 for this tree?

As I was sitting there, thinking this, I heard a running commentary from Maia: "Mom, our tree is so beautiful!!! I love all these ornaments -- ooh, look at the sparkly ones! Isn't it neat how the angel has little lit-up candles in her hands? This tree is so tall, I can barely see the top! Mmm...it smells so good, doesn't it? I'm so happy we have a tree! I can't wait to see what it looks like with all the presents under it!"

Honestly, it made all the stress worth it. Advent and Christmas are so meaningful when you throw in a little excitement from children. It's the magic of Christmas; it's how we should be thinking about the great gift given to us in the baby Jesus!

Toyland

2010-12-16T21:24:00.000-05:00

It's that time of the year again... that time when everyone wants to know what my kids want for Christmas. Wow. Do we really need any more toys? Well, I don't want to be a scrooge, and, let's be honest, kids love opening gifts and having new toys. So, in preparation for Christmas, we cleared out the toybox (for the SECOND time this fall) of all the toys that the kids were willing to give away. It's nice that we have a playroom (pictured above), not that there's any containing our fun here.

(Above: Eva on one of the top gifts for one-year olds - the bounce and spin zebra; Maia setting up her dollhouse, which is a favorite.)
This deluge of gifts is just what happens, I guess, when your kids are the only kids on one side of the family and the majority of grandkids on the other side. Because it always seems to me that we already have a lot of toys, last year for Eva's first birthday, I did some research on top gifts for one-year olds and suggested to the grandparents toys off of that list. This year for Christmas and for Eva's birthday, I did the same thing, hoping to come across something we didn't already own that I thought the kids would like.

The top gift for two-year olds is this Billibo thing. I call it a "thing" because it's not really anything specific. Just a piece of plastic that can be used in various ways. Eva's first reaction was that it was some kind of hat (see above). But it wasn't long before the kids figured out some other ways to use the Billibo.
For example, as a seat, to sit in or to balance in.

It also makes a nice turtle shell, although I think Maia above looks more like a snail than a turtle.

Even Patrick got in on the Billibo action.

A doctor's kit is also on the top ten list of gifts for two-year olds. We didn't have that, and it seemed appropriate that the doctor Grandpa and Nana would give Eva a doctor's kit. In the above picture, Maia and Eva are playing doctor in the new tent (tents are always a good gift for kids... and our other one was pretty much broken for good, so they wanted a replacement).

The doctor's kit also allowed us to practice for Eva's two-year visit to the doctor. She knew exactly what Dr. Straw was doing when she pulled out the stethoscope. But let's be honest, those real shots hurt a whole lot more than the one that came with the kit.

Now the funny thing about my doing all this research and wracking my brain to come up with possible gifts for the girls is that I had just heard/read these stories from NPR, which confirmed what I already knew, namely, that kids don't need a lot of fancy toys (especially all those electronic/battery-powered toys...a few is enough; my kids are more drawn toward the dollhouse, nativity set, baby dolls, kitchen, and so on). They need to use their imagination without the scripts that might be supplied by a toy (or movies or television!!!). Listening to these stories made me feel good about my kids because Maia (and Eva too, actually) really excels in what they call "private speech," which is an important indicator of success in school.

Creative Play Makes for Kids in Control

Old-Fashioned Play Builds Serious Skills

The Billibo is kind of cut out for imaginative play, but I admit, when you first see it, you wonder why bother? All I can say is that my kids have had fun with them so far, and they've used them in a hundred different ways. But at this time of the year, my favorite playing to watch is Maia using the Nativity set (the Fisher Price one this time). Of course, there is a script that goes along with it, and today I acted out the whole play for them. But really it's more exciting when Maia does it. Like today she was insisting that Mary should sit in the cart attached to the donkey rather than sit on the donkey directly. "Mom, that way she can lay down, and that would be so much more comfortable!"

And when we play "Mary and Elizabeth" (not the queens, but the Blessed Virgin and her saintly cousin), there are always some strange twists, like Zechariah's car breaking down or Mary having twins, followed by a set of triplets (one of which is Piglet and another that is a bear), not to mention John the Baptist sleeping in a carseat in the kitchen. Since Patrick was born, Eva is no longer allowed to play the part of John the Baptist. So she's taken to being called "Hava" (her Hebrew name) and being the neighbor lady, who also is pregnant (sometimes with a puppy, but once in awhile with a baby doll). I admit that I like playing Mary and Elizabeth because I can clean the kitchen during the game and feel like I'm just playing my part of Elizabeth, rather than ignoring Maia. I can also serve lunch to Mary and Hava, and sometimes the Blessed Virgin also likes her older cousin to read her a story. So it all works out. No batteries necessary.

Little Miss Helpful is 2!

2010-12-16T20:51:00.001-05:00

Yes, Miss Eva is now two years old! She's still small (weighing in at a mere 21 lbs.), but she's definitely changed since those old chubby cheeks days. Recently, Eva has been into being helpful. When we're getting ready to go somewhere, she brings me my shoes so I can put them on (even though I prefer to put them on right by the front door). Since it's been cold she's been bringing me my gloves, too. A few weeks ago, Maia spilled some milk on the table, and Eva got down from her chair, pulled a towel from the front of the kitchen stove, went back to the table, and wiped up the milk: "There you go, Maia," she said. Eva is also great at throwing away wrappers, orange peels, you name it. She doesn't mind cleaning up after herself.

(Above: Eva trying on her new sparkly shoes, courtesy of Granny Kathy and Grandpa Bob.)

And Eva really has figured out how things work around our house. She's got the routine down. A week or so ago, she even started putting her clothes in the hamper. One morning I spotted her nightgown, and I pulled it out because it didn't need to be washed and I knew she was going to want to wear it again that night.

(Above: Eva wanted a chocolate dog cake for her birthday - here it is.)

But when I went to pull the laundry out of the washer the next day, I had an unpleasant surprise. Eva had also put her night-time pull-up into the washer. While it was most likely dry and clean to start off with, nonetheless, it was of the disposable diaper sort and hence exploded all over the laundry with a nasty sort of gel stuff that was stuck to everything - including Jeff's work clothes. The pull-up itself was still kind of in tact and seemed to weigh about five pounds!

(Above: Uncle Eben lights the candles as Maia and neighbor Anna look on. Notice the chunk missing out of the dog's ear. Eva decided to sample the cake early, when I was on the treadmill out of reach.)
Anyway, happy birthday to Eva! Being the second child with a newborn baby brother, having a birthday so close to Christmas, and having a nasty cold on her birthday kind of put a damper on the celebration. But I think she's glad to be two anyway because she likes being helpful!

Smiles, Yawns, and Other Baby Looks

2010-12-11T21:52:00.000-05:00

"Wow, these hands are both interesting and delicious!"

"What's going on over there?" asks Patrick.

"Like the sweater? I do."

"But laying on the ground really makes me (yawn!) tired."

"Being a baby is fun! I highly recommend it!"

2010-12-11T21:26:00.000-05:00

Patrick poised to "fall over."

Babies like to move, but newborns have such limited options. When Eva was a baby, Maia and I discovered that if we propped her up on a chair, she would do her best to fall over. Of course, I have to supervise this game, and we only do it on big, soft chairs. In the above video, Maia explains how this works, and then Patrick demonstrates his ability to fall over, with just a bit of help.

Two on a Tire

2010-11-29T22:07:00.000-05:00

Does it make you dizzy to watch?

Uncovering Sanctity

2010-11-29T20:59:00.000-05:00

For quite awhile now, Eva has been copying most of what Maia does - good and bad alike. But it wasn't until just recently that Eva marched into the kitchen and proudly handed me a drawing she'd made, saying " 'ang it up, 'ang it up!" (Eva's great at talking, but she omits her h's.) We have a little ledge in the kitchen where we put Maia's artwork. So I put Eva's up on the ledge as well, and have continued to do this nearly every day since then.

A week later or so, I was doing a routine clearing-off of the ledge and deciding which pictures to keep. Maia produces so much artwork that we simply can't keep it all, but some are so good that I can't bear to let go of them, and I usually staple them together into a book. Without really thinking about it, I put all of Eva's pictures into the throw-away pile. After all, compared to Maia's art, Eva's pictures are just scribbles.

Of course, anyone would say that it's unfair to compare a 4.5 year old's artwork with an almost 2 year old's drawing. Obviously I knew this, and I laughed at myself for unconsciously favoring Maia's artistic skill over Eva's.

But later I was thinking about being a child of God and the lives of the saints (yes, this is what I think about when I'm running on the treadmill). I was thinking about what makes Eva's and Maia's artwork different: Maia's has recognizable shapes and forms and she is able to actualize her intentions. In other words, she has a clear end in mind when she's drawing. Sometimes the picture is truer to her idea, and sometimes she's disappointed. But she knows what she's doing when she sits down to draw. Perhaps Eva does too and is just unable to actualize her intentions, but regardless, we can say that Eva's drawings appear to be only scribbles.

It occurred to me that some who strive for sanctity - especially the beginners - merely write scribbles whereas the more practiced can draw recognizable images. We who are early on the path lack the attention to detail and the understanding of how each mark fits with an overall picture. And yet God appreciates both the scribbles and the pictures, regardless of our human judgment. God knows when failure (sin) is not hypocrisy, but human weakness. God notices our progress, even when others fail to see. God understands how we are trying to fit the marks into an overall picture, and God can probably even see the picture before we can. Moreover, God can recognize great artwork even when those with a close-up view can't make out anything from the images.

On All Saints' Day I heard a great homily that included a true story that I saw as connected to this. My husband confirmed it with his students that are associated with the order, the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal (Gray Friars). They had just purchased a convent from some Dominican sisters who no longer had the population to keep it. In the process of moving in, they were moving the bones of the long-deceased buried below and respectfully interring them elsewhere. In the process of doing this, the Gray Friars made a few discoveries. They came upon the prioress of the congregation, whose head was incorrupted. The rest of her body was decomposed, but she, as the head, had still a perfect head. Then they came upon an incorrupted hand on a decomposed body; upon research, they learned that this particular nun had been an icon painter. Her hand that had spent so much time painting sacred images, was just as it had been. Then, with nothing but bones to left and to the right, they came upon a completely incorrupted entire body. Who was this? Someone important? Not really. It was just the doorkeeper. The woman who had spent her time opening the door and welcoming people to the convent. But she must have done a good job at it, eh?

On the Solemnity of All Saints, this woman served as a good reminder to us that there are many holy people who are not officially canonized saints. Or we might say, there are many excellent artists who spent their entire lives perfecting their art, giving their lives to God, and supernaturalizing the everyday (yes, there's even a holy way to open up a door). Many are not recognized either in their lifetimes or after for what they have done, and yet, they are not forgotten in the Kingdom of Heaven.

God knows when scribbles are just scribbles and when scribbles are actually his children's first steps to something greater. In the latter case, even these pictures are worth hanging up on the ledge. They are reminders that no one starts off as a saint, and as a confessor recently told me, God smiles at our efforts.

Chapel Time

2010-11-10T20:13:00.000-05:00

Earler this week when I picked up Maia from nursery school, I noticed, per the notice board, that the kids had enjoyed some "chapel time" that day. I mentioned last year in my blog my concerns about Maia attending preschool at a Methodist church. To be clear, the school is not Methodist, but the school is a ministry of the Methodist church at which it is located. It's sort of generically Christian, if there is such a thing... what I mean is it's a kind of watered down, unspecific sort of Christianity that the kids are exposed to there.

Anyway, chapel time. So when I picked up Maia, the teacher told me that everyone was impressed with how Maia knew the names of items in the church, like "pew." On the way home Maia and I had a conversation about the church's interior, which I've actually never seen.

TM: So did the church look like ours?

M: It had pews like ours all lined up facing the front.

TM: Did it have an altar at the front?

M: Sort of.

TM: Was there an ambo - you know, the place where they read the Bible from?

M: They had something like that, but it was all the way at the back.

TM: Really? The back? That's funny. So was there a tabernacle?

M: Nope, no tabernacle.

TM: That's because they don't have Jesus there. (Pause as I consider what I just said...) What I mean is, they don't have Jesus present in the Eucharist inside the church, so that's why they don't have a tabernacle.

Later, at home, we renewed the conversation as Maia was coloring the coloring page of a church sent home with her from school.

TM: What's that you drew on the steeple of the church?

M: It's a cross. I think they forgot to put the cross on this church, so I added it for them.

TM: Pretty windows. Is that what they looked like in the church you saw today?

M: Well, the windows were stain glass, you know, like in our church, only they didn't have pictures on them.

TM: What, no pictures? You mean no saints?

M: No saints, Mom, and no angels either! Isn't that strange?

TM: What are you drawing on there now?

M: That's Mary. I'm drawing a statue of Mary on the top of their church because they didn't have any statues of her in their church.

TM: Nice job, Maia.

I think she did a pretty good job Catholicizing the picture.

Halloween

2010-11-04T20:39:00.001-04:00

Patrick's Baptism

2010-11-04T19:34:00.000-04:00

When we scheduled Patrick's baptism, we thought he'd be about four weeks old at his baptism. That seemed like a good age, as I'm the kind of person who prefers not to delay baptism. Since Patrick ended up being 11 days late, he was only two weeks at his baptism. That was fine by me, but admittedly a bit awkward as we ended up having to invite people to the baptism before he'd been born. A couple of our guests even joked it was the first time they'd been invited to an unborn baby's baptism. Anyway, it all worked out in the end, although at one point during the ceremony Maia decided that she and Eva should run off to the side of the Church by themselves. Neither Jeff nor I could chase them since we were standing up in the front. Fortunately our neighbor Anna was there, and she caught them for us.

Go, Dog, Go!

2010-11-04T19:27:00.001-04:00

One of Jeff's and my first arguments as parents was in regards to whether or not the book Go, Dog, Go! has a plot. I think any sensible person who read this book would agree with me that it does not have a plot. Jeff, however, has always insisted that the book is a romance between two of the dogs. After not liking her hat at several different occasions, the penultimate pages have the male dog liking the female dog's party hat, and they drive off into the sunset together.

While we had family in town for Patrick's baptism, an account of our disagreement on this book arose and we ended up reading the book aloud over dinner. I should say Tia Carla read the book aloud because Jeff was convinced he could read it in such a way that the plot was emphasized, and I was convinced I could read it in such a way that it was clear there is absolutely no plot. Carla had never read the book, so she was the neutral party.

Following the reading, we took a vote as to whether or not it has a plot. The results were a clear male-female split. All males present (3) voted that it did have a plot (although Tio Kyle said it was not a romance, but the narrative of a pilgrimage where the climax is the dog party in the tree). All females present (4) voted that it did not have a plot.

What do my readers think?

St. Baby Patrick

2010-11-04T17:51:00.000-04:00

Eva is still getting used to having a little brother. She tries to be gentle, she really does, but it's just a little hard for someone her age (now 23 months). Sometimes I think she thinks of Patrick as a little animal - a puppy or something.

Over the weekend, my friend Carla was watching Patrick downstairs while Eva and I were putting away laundry upstairs. Patrick was asleep, so Carla put him in his carseat so she could go to the bathroom. She told me she had done it, and I thought I was watching Eva, but then Maia came into my bedroom and all of the sudden I heard Eva screaming from downstairs. I thought for sure she had injured herself very seriously, and, of course I was surprised because I didn't know she was downstairs in the first place. So I ran down the stairs, and the first thing I saw was the carseat... EMPTY. Eva was still screaming, and she was squealing "I hurt the baby Patrick!!!" I looked down, and Patrick was laying on his belly next to the dining room table, pretty much still asleep. I guess it was a close call. I've learned it's best to strap Patrick in, even if I'm going to be in the room... last week I decided to disassemble and reassemble the crib (out of the girls' room, since Eva can now get out of it, and back into our bedroom so it'll be ready for Patrick), and Eva managed to get Patrick out of the swing, even though he was secured by the closed tray.

Today I looked over to see Eva leaning over Patrick asleep in his carseat and blessing him "I bless you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," just like our parental blessings, which at night involve holy water. How sweet, I was thinking to myself. Then I wondered what was in Eva's other hand... a sippy cup of apple cider was the answer, and why did Patrick's head look so wet and sticky? Oh, she had blessed him with apple cider, of course. It became very clear when she started doing an aspersion with the apple cider. Well, more laundry.

We all think it's great that Patrick is named after St. Patrick. Patrick even got an awesome St. Patrick statue for his baptism. But Eva can't seem to keep the Patricks straight. She's started referring to Patrick as "St. Baby Patrick." Maybe that's an improvement from calling him "the Patrick."

Special.

2010-10-25T21:29:00.001-04:00

"Mom, I'm glad Patrick was born because now Eva's not special anymore," said Maia.

"What do you mean? Eva's still special, only now she's special in a new way because she's a big sister!" I answered, quoting Joann Cole's book I'm a Big Sister.

"No, Mom, you know what I mean. Eva's not special anymore, and I'm glad about that."

In case you're wondering, Eva hasn't noticed that she's not special anymore. She's not so gentle with Patrick, but I have not seen any signs of jealousy. She's had to share attention her whole life, so she seems to be taking Patrick's appearance in stride. Maia, however, was an only child for almost her first three years of life, and she's clearly still recovering from that.

Maia has been celebrating Eva's not being special by antagonizing Eva non-stop. This has become Maia's number one favorite activity - whether it's telling Eva that there are monsters in the basement or taking away whatever toy Eva has or chasing Eva or insulting Eva or, well, you get the picture. Her behavior has been so poor that Jeff and I have really been at a loss for what we could do - send her to Grandma's for a week? It's too hard to spend all day punishing her, and neither of us seems to have the time that she seems to require in terms of attention.

I was at the park today with Eva and Patrick while Maia was at school and a mom there asked me how far apart the kids were, and when I said 22 months, she smiled kindly and said that her kids were 17 months apart: "It gets easier," she said sympathetically. I was thinking to myself, "Easier than this?" Patrick was sleeping in the stroller and Eva was running around happily, playing on the park equipment. If all I had to deal with all day was Patrick and Eva, my life would be pretty easy.

But as someone (I forget who) recently said to me, the challenging, strong-willed kids are much more interesting to raise, and much more rewarding in the end. I still have high hopes that a difficult early childhood will be followed by an easy teenage time period. But anyway, I think parents get their parenthood points by dealing with kids when they're being difficult - not just when they are sleeping in a carseat all day.

Boring Baby

2010-10-25T21:17:00.000-04:00

Patrick's life, by the hours...

8:00 a.m. "I am SO tired after all that sleeping last night. Better take a nap."

11:00 a.m.: "That morning nap and nursing session really wore me out. I better get some sleep."

2:00 p.m. "My sisters are so loud; maybe if I sleep I can just tune them out."

5:00 p.m. "Must be getting close to dinnertime. I can smell the onions cooking... and it makes me so drowsy."

8:00 p.m. "Well, now that the girls are in bed, let me just stretch out on the couch and get a little shut-eye before bed."

Yes, I've been calling Patrick "Boring Baby" because it really seems like all he does is sleep, sleep, sleep. Not that I'm complaining. It does make my life with three pretty easy. I guess a boring baby is God's gift to a busy mom.

A brief video from the life of a boring baby.

Patience and Its Reward

2010-10-18T21:30:00.000-04:00

As I've written before on this blog, parenting involves a lot of patience. This is especially true for mothers, I think, and it all begins with the pregnancy - nine months of waiting. As Patrick's due date approached (October 4th), I started getting the usual questions and comments from friends, neighbors, family, and complete strangers: "So, are you ready to get this kid out?" "I bet you're ready to be done being pregnant!" and the like. Actually, this was my most comfortable pregnancy yet - no swelling, for one thing, and no real problems at all other than some nasty acid reflux. So I prided myself on being patient.

Then my preferred birthdate passed. Granted, that was the 1st, the Feast of Therese Lisieux, so it was a bit of an early shot. Then my second choice, the 2nd, the Feast of the Guardian Angels passed. As a bunch of other good liturgical choices passed, including the due date (St. Francis), I began to hope for at least a fun secular date: 10-10-10. Then that passed as well. Ok, I was doing great at being patient... but how late could this kid possibly be? Especially since I was having contractions off and on for about two weeks, I thought for sure he was going to come out any time! In fact, there were three separate times that I really thought I was in labor and got ready to head to the hospital.

For the last few months I've been reading Teresa of Avila's Way of Perfection, and I happened to read her thoughts on the Our Father, specifically "fiat voluntas tua" about the time of my due date. So this became my prayer over the last few weeks. In the end I had a good delivery with Eva, in that it was unmedicated and my sister got to catch her. But I also think I ended up having a premature rupture of membranes and having to get pitocin because I used castor oil to try to induce labor so that my sis would be there for the delivery. I wanted to have a better delivery (no pitocin!) this time around, and so I knew I needed to be patient, patient, patient and just wait for the labor to happen naturally.

Since Patrick was eleven days late, "fiat voluntas tua" became a daily struggle. Again, I wasn't particularly uncomfortable, but I did feel a bit of pressure, not just from the friends, neighbors, and strangers who kept asking... but also because my parents very generously came out to be with the kids while we went to the hospital. They had planned to be here about one week before the birth and about two weeks after. But with Patrick being eleven days late, they ended up being here for two and a half weeks before and only five days after. They had to cancel their visit to Niagara Falls, and my mom had to reschedule several doctors' appointments. The other pressure was that my husband had a wonderful fall break that would have been perfect if Patrick had been born on his due date or just a few days late. Instead, the break passed by with no baby (but still some good quality time with the husband).

As a planner who had two other late babies, I knew I could go late - but really, eleven days late? Who would have thought that! Even Maia was only about five days late. Some people say it's because this one was a boy, but I think it's because we gave him an Irish name. Next time, we'll pick a German name, and I know that baby will be punctual.

Anyway, the reward of this patience was that I did go into labor naturally, right as I was on the verge of taking castor oil (facing a 42-weeks post-date induction on Monday anyway). I had heard many stories of Mom's having really quick labors and deliveries with their thirds, but, true to my style, I managed to have contractions beginning Friday around midnight, and then he wasn't born until 11:34 at night! So basically it was a 24-hour labor, with some more painful times than others. When I went to my midwife appointment in the morning I was four centimeters and 70% effaced. But although I was having contractions, the midwife made me feel like I wasn't really in labor... she said things like, "Well, if you haven't had the baby by Monday, then we will need to set up the induction for that day."

I think it kind of psyched me out, so Jeff and I went to noon Mass (we had missed the 8 a.m. because I thought my labor was going to pick up soon), had lunch out, stopped at Trader Joe's, etc. all while I was having really painful contractions every few minutes. When we came home I attempted to take a nap because then I was scared that my contractions would pick up right at rush hour and it would take us an hour plus to get to the hospital. I didn't eat dinner, but I did help put the girls to bed, and I think it was nursing Eva that finally put me over the edge and full swing into labor.

Even then, though, we were debating just going to bed. It was 8:00 at night, and I hadn't slept the previous night at all (due to those contractions). My contractions were painful and pretty regular, but for all I knew they were going to dissipate again, since they seemed to be doing a lot of coming and going.

Anyway, I called the midwife on call, and she advised us to come into the hospital. When I got there, I was six cm and 100% effaced. But of course when they hooked me up to monitor my contractions, they slowed down, and I thought - here we go again. I had memories of being in labor with Maia and spending literally hours in the middle of the night walking up and down the hospital hallways. But this time it only took a few laps, and not even two decades of the Rosary until I told Jeff I just couldn't do it and I was going to go lie down because I was just too tired.

My mom (who got to come because the girls were both asleep) gave me a back massage, and when they came in to check me again, I was having body shakes and was 8 cm. I agreed (with surprisingly no hesitation) to have my water broken, and they let me get into the tub. This was by far the coolest part of my delivery. After two foiled attempts at getting a waterbirth, I was blessed with the coolest waterbirth tub ever. It was huge, with beautiful tile around it, and they filled it up with wonderful warm water. As soon as I got in my shaking stopped, my back felt better, and, although my contractions were still painful, they were much more bearable.

Then we discovered the buttons on the tub - one of them made lights turn on. Then it turned out if we pushed that button again that the lights started flashing and changing colors. Wow - what a great distraction for hard labor contractions! But of course, the real challenge was figuring out how to turn on the jets. That took a few contractions and asking a techy nurse, but what a reward! Massaging jets on the back during a contraction was amazing! At some point they seemed to turn off and we couldn't get them back on, but at that point I was feeling ready to push anyway, and - one push to bring the baby down, and two to get him out! A long labor, but definitely my fastest (and least harmful) delivery ever!

Other than the cord being tight around his neck, and the midwife almost falling into the tub as she caught him, the birth was pretty uneventful (although exciting, as these things always are). My first words to Patrick were, "Patrick, you look like a smurf!" And indeed, his Apgar was only a four and he had to be given a little oxygen. By five minutes, he was pinking up and meriting a nine on the Apgar.

I was really, really, really, hoping and praying for Patrick to be born on the Feast of Teresa of Avila. But I have to admit that when we went to the hospital at 8:30 at night, I didn't think it was very likely. And when we were still walking the hallways at 10:50, I thought it was pretty impossible. And when I was in the tub at 11:16, I didn't think it was very likely. The midwife and nurses probably got a kick out of me constantly checking my watch. I gave it a glance at 11:21. Jeff started praying "Nada te turbe." And he was out by 11:34. Thank you, St. Teresa.

Introducing Patrick Benjamin

2010-10-17T20:25:00.000-04:00

The professional big sister.

Family photo.

Eva holds her brother.

Mom's first kiss.

Bon Voyage, Uncle!

2010-10-05T10:54:00.001-04:00

Back to Benin for an additional ten months with Peace Corps, this time teaching music! We'll miss you, JM!

Park Videos

2010-09-30T21:41:00.000-04:00

Shameless Alumna?

2010-09-14T20:29:00.000-04:00

Football season is upon us. And since I married the one man in country with absolutely no interest in (or knowledge of) football, I've had to inflict any of my remaining interest on my girls. In fact, since I started doctoral work, I've seen only a handful of football games (which is probably for the best, given the spotty performances...and the need for me to get my academic work done on Saturdays). But when the air gets that crisp fall feeling, and I'm out walking on a quiet Saturday morning... it's hard not to think of football. Last Saturday, on the way home from morning Mass as a family, I beat Jeff to his customary line: "Well, it's Saturday: should we sing a hymn in honor of our Lady?" After I asked the question, I burst into a rousing rendition of the Notre Dame fight song, in which I was joined by Maia. Jeff either grimaced or smiled; I'm not sure which it was. I felt a little guilty afterwards about replacing the Salve Regina with the Fight Song (which is not properly a Marian hymn) and so I proceeded to sing the Alma Mater as well (which is much more ambiguous and could possibly suffice).

Notre Dame may have become a corrupt institution (I don't know, I'm not making any accusations, I'm just saying it's possible). And the football team may be contributing to a sort of moral bankruptcy (I don't know, I'm not making any accusations, I'm just saying it's possible). But doesn't Maia do a great job of singing the Fight Song? The above is not her usual version; I think she just got excited in front of the camera and wanted to be a little bit more creative.

Big Girl!

2010-09-14T20:08:00.000-04:00

I was afraid to post anything on this prematurely, but it now appears that Eva is finally potty-trained! As I mentioned in another post, she started potty-training herself at about 17 months. Some people might think that's great, but it seemed to us she wasn't really ready for it, not to mention we had a lot of traveling (like to Italy) where we just couldn't be focused on getting her to a toilet in time.

Well, once we were back for good and settled into a schedule, she became more consistent. Then when Nana and Grandpa showed up with new undies for her, she decided to make the switch permanent. She sometimes gets her undies a little bit wet, but for the last week she's been in undies (except at night).

The sleeping isn't going so well, as she wakes up needing to go to the bathroom and then doesn't fall back asleep or makes Dad take her repeatedly to the bathroom without actually going. We've been limiting liquids in the evening, but we're still having some rough nights.

Eva's still nursing, although infrequently, and I am a little worried about her adjustment to being a big sister. If the beginning of the summer was marked by Maia and Eva playing joyfully together, the end of the summer has been marked by Maia and Eva fighting endlessly. Eva in particular finally picked up on all the mean things Maia would do to her. In the shopping cart at Costco today, Eva was pulling Maia's hair and hitting her (for no reason, I might add). Then a couple of days ago she was jumping on the mini-trampoline in the basement (while I was on the treadmill) and shouting "Stupid Maia! Stupid Maia! Stupid Maia!" Maia told me it hurt her feelings, but when I asked her where Eva might have learned to call people stupid, she knew it was from her. But Maia still insisted (probably rightly) that I ask Eva to stop.

Eva seems to be eager to expand this treatment of her big sister to her little brother. A few nights ago, when I was doing some bedtime reading, she playfully bit my belly and yelled, "I bite baby Patrick!!!" So he's not even born, and she's already biting him.

Well, that might not keep up. Just a few days ago, Maia decided (obviously without our permission) to "let Eva know how it feels," and she bit Eva's forearm, where there is still a bruise. That put an abrupt end to Eva's time-out and put Maia in the time-out chair instead. (Thank goodness Maia is now back at pre-school. I think they'll be getting along better now.) And, actually, I don't think Eva has bitten Maia since.

But I've been thinking how it's really a funny thing with child spacing... I probably would have liked my first two a bit closer together, but with the doctoral studies (and accompanying financial hardship) it would not have been prudent. My mom (who was the fourth of four born in four years' time), has always talked about each kid getting their own "babyhood." Maia definitely got that. But, actually, so did Eva. She's not a baby anymore. She's potty-trained, she's extremely verbal, she's very social, very active, very coordinated, and so on. It's hard to know what your older kid will be like nine months from when you conceive. One thing that's clear is that they'll be nine months farther from babyhood, and that's a good thing to remember.

Really, doesn't Eva look old in these pictures?

Uninvited Guests

2010-09-14T19:58:00.001-04:00

Jeff and I were pleased that we were able to do a fair amount of hosting people this summer. In addition to the neighbor kids (who often eat with us during the summer... and sometimes show up right at dinner time...), we had old friends, new friends, Jeff's colleagues, Jeff's parents, Notre Dame Summer Service volunteers, our new pastor - you name it - we hosted them. And I think without exception, we enjoyed every meal, despite the enormous investment of time in cleaning and cooking, etc.

The only guests we didn't enjoy were those pesky lice. And I'm sorry to say that we shared the lice with at least one round of our guests. They were good sports about it, and have been making jokes ever since. Anyway, after two separate instances of fighting off the lice, they seem to have been banished... for now. As to where we got them, our best guess is Ikea, where we spent a rainy day trying out the kids' toys and Maia playing in the ball pit.

From this side of the episode, it doesn't seem like such a big deal. I'm just glad it's over. But I prefer invited guests.

Reality Check

2010-08-26T21:13:00.000-04:00

(Leisurely Mondays spent at the shore are now a thing of the past...)

The last few weeks of the summer have been lovely. The husband and I have been splitting the work day; sometimes he takes the morning and I work in the afternoon, sometimes I work in the morning and he takes the afternoon. We both have time with the kids, we both get work done, and in the evening we have time for each other. In fact, five years into our marriage, we finally opened up all those board games we got for our wedding. We're pretty evenly matched in Scattergories and Scrabble, but I usually win Trivial Pursuit. ;) We've also had many opportunities for hospitality, including guests for dinner once or twice a week, and an all-day Sunday brunch with a couple of Jeff's colleagues.

(Above, Jeff "watching" the girls... no really, this has become more rare, but I had to take a picture anyway.)

In the midst of all this productivity, I had the startling realization that Jeff has to start teaching on Monday. Reality check: ONE of us at least has to bring in some money. So there you go. Jeff's off to teach (including an overload), and I'll go back to having the kids pretty much all day Monday-Thursday, with only 8-10 p.m. to work on my dissertation. The good news is that I completed two of my four goals for the summer. The bad news is that the two goals I did NOT complete were chapters one and two of my dissertation. I was really making progress, however, until the reality of Jeff's going back to work came crashing down on me. And then I also remembered that I'm only six weeks away from having another kid to take care of - one much more dependent than my other two are currently.

(Eva is learning how to use a sling in preparation for Mom's carrying Patrick around.)

I've been reading The Way of Perfection, and Teresa of Avila (combined with an Augustine reading from the Office) has made me feel like I shouldn't complain about the changes to come. It's just so great to have to endure trials! Especially if they are undeserved.

(Before the haircut)

This came to mind last night as I was brushing out Maia's hair before bedtime and realized that she had lice. At first I thought maybe she just had a few bugs in her hair from playing outside, but fifteen of them later, plus the tell-tale sign of eggs, and a phone call to her physician grandfather convinced us that they were indeed lice. It took less than a second after that conclusion for me to realize that I also had lice. In fact, ever since my annual haircut (this time at an expensive salon), I've had an itchy head... and I even had Jeff look at my scalp last week to make sure I was just being paranoid. I guess I should have had him use a magnifying glass. (And could I have possibly gotten lice from a $62 haircut? Or is this a gift of the neighbor kids?)

(12 inches later...)

It was Maia's bedtime - not much we could do other than put her in bed with a headful of lice at that point. I went off to the drugstore, and of course, knowing that I probably had lice, my head started itching ten times as much as it had before. Despite the fact that I'm posting all this on my blog, I wasn't excited about the world knowing I had lice. My sister was laughing at me on the phone, and suggesting that I ask the pharmacist for advice. I did kind of feel like I was on a sticom, as I stood in front of all the lice shampoo, scratching my head like crazy and trying to figure out if the $25 lice removal kit was significantly better than the $12 shampoo.

Our relaxing night was supposed to include Cheesecake Factory cheesecake (from Costco, yo!) with strawberries and a Harry Potter movie. While we still did part of the movie and the cheesecake, the majority of our time together was spent de-lousing my head. In the midst of this, Jeff kept looking at me curiously and asking why I seemed so down. By the fifth time of his asking, and my repeating that I was still upset that my head was covered in insects, I think he may have gotten the point, although he still seemed fairly unconcerned about the whole thing.

(Maia and Eva are adjusting to cosleeping together... but pretty much everyone is having some sleepless nights these days...)

And of course, the fun didn't end when I went to bed for the night. I spent much of the night waking up and thinking about those little lice, crawling around on my daughter's head, her bed, my bed, our hairbrush... wherever they might be. So when Maia hopped in my bed at 6:05 a.m., it was only a matter of moments before I was shampooing her and sitting her down in front of Thumbelina (the movie) so that I could go through her hair with that fine tooth comb. Yes, I even missed my morning work out for the de-lousing.

The rest of the day - which had been intended for last minute cleaning before Grandpa and Nana's weekend arrival - was spent doing that cleaning (mopping the floor, vaccuuming the living room, cleaning off the bureau and table) in addition to washing four sets of sheets (including crib), washing pillows, putting hairbrushes in the freezer, hanging out sheets, drying comforters, spraying beds with lice-killing spray and remaking beds. I hope I got them all... but can you ever know??? If Jeff hadn't had to go into school to copy his syllabi and whatnot, I might have gone out shopping and just bought all new pillows, so paranoid was I feeling.

Out of curiosity, I checked out my hair from the haircut, which was still in a ziploc bag since I hadn't mailed it in yet to Locks of Love (I'm lazy about haircuts, so I grow it out, get it cut every 15 months or so, and donate it). I didn't see any dead lice in that bag, so I guess my infestation certainly came after (or during) the haircut. Maia (who was as worried as Jeff about the lice - that is, not at all), said that her head felt much less itchy. I called my mom and told her that I'd had a "Mom Moment" - you know, one of those moments where you realize that WOW! you're the mom! Because I still remember my own kindergarten lice incident, and I associate de-lousing with my mom, not myself!

(Another piece of Maia's religious artwork. This is Mary, wearing a crown (and I think it looks like the angel is crowning her, but Maia said no, it's just floating above her), Jesus on the cross, and an angel above the gates of heaven with a wreath of hearts and flowers)

I'm not sure if this was an "undeserved" suffering; the good Lord knows I have my share of sins. And perhaps I should have borne the inconvenience and day's worth of hard work a little more cheerfully. But, as we approach the penitential day of Friday, I do feel like I put in my share of penance on this Thursday.

Role Playing

2010-08-19T21:29:00.000-04:00

It's been very fun to watch Eva play lately. Well, I mean, it's always been fun... but recently her imagination and role playing has gone to new levels. In the picture above, you can see what I mean. Eva has baby Anna in a bib in her her own booster and is giving her some milk. This was pretty cute, and much better than when she fed Piglet the remainder of her tomato soup. That resulted in a spin in the washer for poor little Piglet.

About a week ago, we were coming home from Mass when Eva decided it was time for Piglet to take a nap. She cradled Piglet close to her chest and shushed him while gently rocking her back and forth (as much as one can do when strapped into a carseat). This made Maia really upset. "Piglet is not a baby!!!! Anyone who has read Pooh knows that Piglet is a grown up!!! You can't put Piglet to sleep!" And Maia started kicking Eva's carseat as if to prevent Piglet from dozing off. We told Maia just to let Eva pretend... Maia was not happy about it though, and continued to insist that Piglet was not a baby.

A couple of days later, Eva wanted the crucifix down from the wall, presumably so she could kiss it (a favorite activity of the girls, especially if they can fight over it, but yowzers does it hurt to get hit by that crucifix!). So Maia gave Jesus a kiss, Eva gave Jesus a kiss, and then, wouldn't you know it, Eva started cradling the crucifix and shushing Jesus to sleep, just like she had done with Piglet. That was just a little too much for me, and I put it back up on the wall shortly thereafter.

Smart Little Eva

2010-08-19T21:05:00.000-04:00

I opened the closet to put away some clothes and found Eva's morning soymilk sippy cup in the bottom of the closet. So I took it out, thinking that I'd discovered it before it could get too gross and curdled (yes, it's true, spoiled soymilk is just as bad as spoiled cow's milk). To be precise, I should say that this was actually a sippy cup intended for Patrick. It had been in an unopened package in a drawer in the pantry until we ran into a desperate situation where none of the sippy cups were clean and we had to break into Patrick's sippies.

Anyway, I said, "Eva, can you take that downstairs?" But I was distracted by the laundry and not sure if she had taken it downstairs when we went. Later, I sort of had a vague memory of taking it downstairs myself. But, the point is, I couldn't find it anywhere, and I had the whole house (neighbor kids included) looking for it. Later that night, right before bed, Jeff was getting something out of the pantry when he noticed a drawer slightly opened, with the sippy cup in it.

Not only had Eva taken the sippy cup downstairs when I had asked her, she had also put it back in the appropriate drawer. Unfortunately by this time the soymilk was disgustingly curdled. Fortunately, Jeff cleaned it.