Dear Mom and Dad,

3 Comments

I am sorry I melted the trampoline. I should have listened. It was fun, but I broke the trampoline. I will not do it again.

Love, Henry

Lesson: Where there is smoke, there is a a boy and a magnifying glass.

Advertisements

Other people

Leave a comment

This is a great, thoughtful post from Simcha Fisher at the National Catholic Register. She’s always so thoughtful, and often so funny. This one is more thoughtful, but I know lots of moms/folks can relate.

When women read about other women’s lives, we tend to think, “Oh, I’m a failure  as a mother! All I do is hang around reading with my kids all day, when I ought  to be doing liturgical crafts!” or “My husband must be so disappointed with  me—those other woman are so beautiful and exciting, and all I do is cook and  clean!” And meanwhile the kids and husband in question are perfectly happy—it’s  only the mom who sees a problem.

Read more: http://www.ncregister.com/blog/other-peoples-souls/#ixzz1NMevmexe

http://www.ncregister.com/blog/other-peoples-souls/

Small Successes

1 Comment

The deal is to post this on Thursday. But it’s one minute from Friday … and I’m not going to make it … so that’s not going to be on my success list. But I DID do these three small things.

  1. Helped my dad on a presentation that he’s going to give in Florida next week. We knocked that thing out in about an hour. It looks great. I got to spend some time next to my rockin’ daddio as he told me all about Shoeless Joe Jackson and how mean Ty Cobb was. Fascninating stuff.
  2. I actually saw two out of four races my daughter swam in tonight. I missed one because I couldn’t get there on time after dropping off other kidlets, and missed another because I had my nose in a book. BUT I saw the first-and second-place wins. I was there. She was happy. I was happy. Go team.
  3. I crockpotted a lovely meal for Friday so I can feed my family even as I’m away practicing for Saturday’s Confirmation Mass, at which I will sponser one seriously lovely young lady.

And now, I link this to Chocolate for your Brain. For reasons that I’m not quite clear about.

Egg head

2 Comments

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

On the way to school the other day, Lillian asked the question. And I mean, THE question.

“How does a baby get in your tummy?”

I’ve learned over the years to do a quick evaluation. What exactly does a four-year-old want to get out this exchange? What kind of answer will satisfy that burning question at this very minute? I always think back to my friend Heidi’s five-year-old daughter’s inquiry about pilgrims. Heidi’s long explanation about religious persecution, traveling for months in desperate conditions, most people not surviving the journey, etc. Her dear (horrified) daughter’s follow-up response was akin to “Oh. So pilgrims are PEOPLE!” Ever hear of TMI? That’s an error I certainly don’t want to make on the delicate subject of baby-making.

I respond.

I can’t quote myself verbatim, because frankly, I have no real idea of what I said. But it had something to do with husbands, wives, love, God, creation, gifts and time.

Does not compute.

“No, I mean, how does the baby get IN there?” This time she’s pressing a little harder. Reminding me through her four-goinig-on-14 inflection that apparently, I am a dingbat. Do I, or do I not understand the question?

I sort of went back to my first answer. I expanded, and somehow in the midst of my caffeine-starved morning-brain stupor I made the mistake of using the word “egg.”

“Wait! Are you telling me that there’s an egg in those big bellies? Babies are born in eggs?”

Well, I tried hard in the two remaining minutes of the ride to unexplain that one. I am quite sure that worse than not giving her information is giving her life-changing, mind-altering crazy-pants incorrect facts, unintentionally or otherwise.

Whether I was able to undo what had been done remains a mystery. But I won’t lie. I was relieved when the trip was over and our destination reached. She appeared satisfied. That is, until our car ride home, when the string of questions that eeked its way from her sweet rose-petal lips began with something like, “Does it hurt to have a baby? How do you get the egg out? Is it hard? Does it come from your belly button? Is that why your belly button is so big”

Ouch.

Since I’d had some prep time and a cup or two of coffee, I was much more on my game. As a matter of fact, in this case I’m pretty sure I can give you a word-by-word account. It went something like, “Do you want Taco Bell for lunch? You can have a cheesy roll up if you’d like.”

“Can I have two?”

Sure, kid. You can have two.

You’re still a good mommy

1 Comment

That’s what Lillian said to me today, just in case I was feeling insecure. I had forgotten to brown the pork roast before putting it in the crock pot. As she watched me disassemble the agglomeration she had seen me so carefully arrange just moments before, she inquired, and I confessed.

“That’s okay, you’re still a good mommy.” Well, that’s a relief. I was starting to doubt my mother skills completely (never mind my crock-potting prowess). I was feeling especially inadequate after Henry’s comment on Monday while waiting for his toaster waffles to pop. “Are you going to help me spread this butter or are you going to be one of those selfish mothers who doesn’t assist little children?” Then after a thoughtful pause added, “Mother’s day is over. Get to work.”

(He was kidding and performed this whole 30-second monologue talking to the toaster in most annoying whine he could muster at 8 a.m. on a very unwelcome school day.)

On fiy-aah

Leave a comment

I’ve been watching the progress of this for a long time and am so pleased the release is finally approaching. Fr. Robert Barron is very faithful, smart and media savvy. His site, wordonfire.org has long been one of my favorites. Here’s the trailer for his remarkable The Catholicism Project. Chills, for sure.