From Catholic Exchange and Eric Scheske:

The absurd, Camus said, is the state of existence that is every man’s lot
because nothing corresponds to his highest yearnings. In order to understand what Camus is saying, consider how ridiculous it would be if there was no such thing as food, but we had an appetite for it. At some point someone would become aware of the odd juxtaposition of appetite and no food, and say, “What’s going on here? Why do we have an appetite if there is no such thing as food to satisfy it?” That’s the same thing Camus said about man’s desires and dreams. Every man hopes, but there is nothing to satisfy his hopes. Man naturally harbors desires, but there is nothing to respond to them. That, Camus said, is absurd.

And for an agnostic/atheist, he’s right. We’re full of yearnings, of desires for something higher, of hope for eternity. But what do we get in return? Disappointment, pain, and death.

Things are philosophically tough for an atheist.

Of course, from a religious standpoint, things are not at all absurd:

Moreover, those yearnings are there for a reason: they correspond to reality. The mere fact that we yearn for permanency — for eternity — points to
the fact that permanency exists. And because we know nothing material lasts forever, the permanency must be spiritual.

Now, having lived an absurd life for many years, I know it is very easy to know the solution and not so easy to live the solution. It is very easy to know that faith, hope and charity are the key to happiness, but it is not so easy to have faith and hope. And even more difficult to have charity, even if one does have faith and hope.

But, to deny oneself the pure joy that comes with having faith and hope and exercising charity is…absurd.

Yesterday I had 4 things on my to-do list:

#1: Call the piano technician about the problem we’re suddenly having with the piano. I’ve realized that getting a piano based on its looks is as foolish as buying a car based on its looks. I called the technician, but he is recovering from surgery and refered me to another techinician (the one he subcontracted for the original repairs) who hasn’t called back yet.

#2: Schoolwork – my #1 priority, as it always is. I was set up for success, had everything ready to go, but then the phone rang…

#3: Grocery store: we were down to our last half gallon of milk and were running low on Ovaltine, too!

#4: Take the kids to a valentine’s party. I have an awesome friend whose husband is deployed. Her friend’s husband was working until 10 pm last night, so they decided to have a valentine’s party for their kids and the kids of 3 other friends and let the parents have a few hours to themselves. So, not only would they watch my kids, they’d buy the pizza too. How cool is that?

A simple enough day, but then the phone rang.

It was Bill. Did I remember how last month he mentioned an FRG meeting (Family Readiness Group…”ready” for your-husband-to-deploy-and-leave-you-a-single-mom-for-a-year group) and how he was supposed to get some info for me (like the day and time) so I could arrange to go? Yeah, that meeting is today. Leave in an hour even though the 3 littlest kids were still in PJs…and school is my top priority…and I don’t have a babysitter.

So, I started to scramble for a babysitter, thinking I’d have to take all 5 kids with me and then the phone rings and it’s the wife of a co-worker who is also going. There is only one parking space available for us to share, so we’re coordinating a meeting place so we can leave one car and go together. But then she mentions bringing another woman, the wife of my husband’s boss. I begin to panic, since I haven’t found any friends home who can watch my kids, and my mini-van is completely FULL when I have all the kids. Not only do both these women have husbands who out-rank my husband, but they’re a bit more polished than me on a regular basis. Perhaps they wore T-shirts with baby spit-up on them when they had babies, but they no longer had babies and I was having trouble visualizing one of them sitting on the floor in the cramped space between the seat and the door of the mini-van.

I finally got in touch with the woman hosting the valentine party and begged her to watch the kids. Thank goodness the kids like her, they are fairly well behaved, and she has a house full of toys. She had them for three hours. I felt bad.

And this meeting wasn’t much of anything. The main reason my presence had been originally requested was to discuss a hoo-ah Christmas stocking I had made for my husband (and about 80 Marines a few years ago). But the powers-that-be who wanted to use my design as a fundraiser for other projects and a morale booster for troops overseas were not at this meeting, so I REALLY DIDN’T NEED TO GO AT ALL.

Since I had found someone to watch the kids, I had already forgiven Bill for the last minute notice. And he had no way of knowing that these other people wouldn’t be attending that day, so I couldn’t get angry at him over that. Plus I had that party to look forward to, so my spirits managed to remain high despite my inability to really get anything accomplished thus far.

Back home we did some school work, but not as much as I wished we’d done. It wasn’t long before Bill was home and it was time to take the kids to the party. Bill and I debated what to do about dinner, and decided on take out. Then we debated where. But when we got there, he reminded me that we’d been wanting to try those burgers from Five Guys (supposedly the BEST burgers in the area). So that’s what we had for dinner on Valentine’s Day: delicious, but greasy, burgers and fries. We went home, put the sleeping baby (car seat and all) upstairs and sat on the living room floor (like old times…but it was mainly because the dining room table was still littered with schoolwork) and ate.

When we were done eating, Bill looked at the clock and we had about an hour until we needed to get the kids. We spent 5 minutes debating how to spend that time, while Bill laughed at how old we were (10 years ago, there would not have been any debate). Then Bill put his head in my lap and we started reminiscing about the last 15 years: when we met, how long it took us to fall in love, how we decided to get married, and even remembering how miserable we were for a few excruciating weeks in 2004 when he got back from Kosovo and we thought we could never be happy again (but then, within a few days, the storm cloud completely dissipated and it’s been all sun every since). We engaged in this verbal foreplay for 5 or 10 minutes before Pete woke up, deciding for us how the rest of that hour would be spent. Ah, the joys of motherhood.

All in all, a good day. Completely unpredicted and unplanned, but that tends to be the normal course around here. And now, today, the ONLY thing on my to-do list: SCHOOL. I don’t want this school year to linger past the end of May. We’re likely moving this summer and I need to be done with this year before that chaos begins.

Pete has been taking long naps recently (1 or 2 or 3 hours long!). And he’s been doing this 2 or 3 times a day. And I can just put him down in his crib without much fuss.

The first day he did this, I thought he was dead.

Then second day, I thought he must be getting sick.

The third day, I thought it must be a growth spurt.

The fourth day, I began to take it for granted.

The fifth day, yesterday, I began to pat myself on the back for being such an amazing mom.

haha

Actually, I’ve done nothing different in my parenting the last week than I have in the previous months. I think we’ve just hit a milestone and he’s starting to get into a more predictable and regular phase. At least I hope so. Bill still thinks growth spurt, but I wouldn’t think it would go past 3 days or so (based on previous experience). We’ll see. For now, I’ll just rejoice and try to use my new found time wisely.

I’m personally opposed to the death penalty, but if someone else wants to do it, I don’t feel I should intervene.

I’ve never seen the point to a hunger strike. The one on strike suffers and tries to prove a point to people who really just don’t care. And then, if it goes on long enough, you just get so weak that they put you in a hospital and force-feed you with an IV. So, you basically inflict torture upon yourself. I just don’t get it.

I don’t follow the news much. Just the headlines, not the details.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Bad bad bad. I’m going to hell. To not stay abreast of the latest scandal rocking Hollywood or the same old same old he-said-she-said of international politics is immoral, criminal, and downright stupid.

Whatever.

So, I knew about the Danish cartoon and the rioting. Bill and I do discuss current events, when we have a quiet moment, so we talked about it to some degree. But now I have a greater understanding of the TRUE motives. Kind of like discovering that Hitler targeted Jews not because they were Jewish (oh, please excuse me if that is a big shock to you), but because they were wealthy, middle class, and a threat to an unholy dictatorship.

Indeed, with Denmark set to assume the rotating presidency of the UN Security Council, the flames of the cartoon controversy have been fanned by Iran and Syria. This is critical since the International Atomic Energy Agency is expected to refer Iran to the Security Council and demand sanctions. At the same time, Syria is under scrutiny for its actions in Lebanon. Both Iran and Syria cynically want to embarrass the Danes to achieve their dangerous goals.

So, it’s not really about the cartoon, it’s about embarrassing Denmark. I get it. Thanks to Eric Scheske for the link.

Woke up yesterday morning to 6″ of snow and no power.

The snow was gorgeous. It had first fallen heavy and wet and so clung to every bare tree branch transforming stark black skeletons into bleached beauties.

Of course, these overladen branches were likely the cause of the power outage. The price of beauty.

After Bill cleared my car and shoveled the drive, I went out foraging for coffee and to see if the post chapels were preparing for Mass. The roads were fine, relatively. Plows had been plowing and the heavy snow compacted nicely. My ABS works fine, I discovered. You need to check these things every so often. But two of the post chapels had no power and the third had a pristine blanket of snow over the parking lot, which led me to believe that Mass was not happening that morning.

One Dunkin Donuts on post was without power, but the other was closed. Heaven help me, I nearly cursed. It’s one thing to cancel Mass, and quite another to close a place of business. Especially one that serves coffee by the box.

So, I went off post and the roads were fine there too. I passed a McDonalds, but it looked closed. On second glance, there were two people inside, but I had already passed it. The nearby 7 -Eleven was open, so I got coffee but they were out of donuts.

The kids were happy to learn when I got back that Mass was canceled and they could go play. Bill and I kicked around a couple of ideas about what to do about Mass. We thought about doing a prayer service, but decided on going to the 5 PM drunkard’s mass at a church off-post.

We were still without power by late morning. One of my neighbors, a southerner by birth, remarked that if the power didn’t come on “soon” the pipes might freeze.

I managed to supress the urge to laugh.

I assured him that all he had to do was turn the taps open a tiny bit and all would be fine.

By noon, the temperature in my house was about 66 degrees. That’s about 4 or 5 degrees less than I prefer to keep it. But it’s also about where I used to keep it when money was tight. It was noticeably cooler, but not even very uncomfortable. Oh yes, that’s why we invented things like sweaters.

The power kicked on at 1230 PM. It was nice to be able to make a hot cup of tea.

We left for Mass around 430 PM. Not only were the roads clear, they were DRY too.

The schools are closed today. They’re closed in New Jersey too, but NJ got 18 inches or so. I’ll have to do school really early this morning before the neighborhood kids knock on the door.

I only got up at 620 this morning because I could hear Jenny get up and I don’t think it’s a good idea for a 2 year old to wander around the house alone. Bad things tend to happen when the tornado-baby is unsupervised.

So I’m up and checking the weather forecast (currently predicting 8 to 14 inches…cool) on the internet. jenny is sitting on the couch watching Playhouse Disney. She looks up and asks me, “Why you no clean room, Mommy?”

Why didn’t I straighten up the living room before I went to bed last night? It wasn’t that bad: several pairs of shoes, a few baby toys, and a magazine littered the floor. I normally DO pick this stuff up at night. I hated the sight of the room when I stumbled down, but I was really tired last night. In fact, I was sleeping in the glider rocker as I put Petey down, so I stumbled down last night to spend time with my husband (who was standing in the parking lot talking to a co-worker when I finally called his cell phone to see where he was. I could rant about this, but there is simply no point).

So, I wasn’t sure whether I should be pleased that my normal standard of housekeeping was noticed and appreciated by my toddler or whether I should feel that the nagging was starting early today. I finally just told her that I had been tired and that SHE should clean up.

So she did.

She just couldn’t do Daddy’s boots because they were too heavy (the things weigh about 20 pounds, I swear). But everything else she found a spot for. I should put her to work more often.

My email is down, so I feel cut off from civilization.

Tomorrow’s big dinner got canceled due to the impeding snow storm. Whimps.

Actually, I was dreading wearing those strappy-nothing new shoes out in the slush.

Bill flew to West Virignia, but he made it back to his office ok. He called 45 minutes ago to say he just had to check email and he’d be on his way home.

I guess he had a LOT of email to check. I just want the weekend to start. Since our Saturday night plans are off, but we have a babysitter scheduled anyway, maybe we’ll do something else. Of course, if the BIG SNOW comes (and here in Virginia that means more than a half inch), everything will be closed, which is actually a good thing, since nobody in Virginia knows how to drive (in any kind of weather).

When Fritz was a baby, I had to teach myself some lullabys. I found the words to “Lullaby and Goodnight” and memorized them, and that one became a favorite. In fact, the boys still request a lullaby at night. Fortunately, The Dad is now an acceptable performer. And Princess Cupcake (Katie) has been recently requesting one too, after years of hiatus, more in an effort to delay bedtime than anything else.

By the time Katie was born, I was so overwhelmed with motherhood that I needed more than “Rock-a-bye Baby”. I began to sing hymns and prayers. I have a very distinct memory of nursing Katie to sleep while sitting on the floor of the boys’ bedroom. Fritz slept, but Billy (only 18 months old when Katie was born) refused to cooperate. I would sing the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I needed Divine Mercy.

From that time, my two favorite lullabys became “Immaculate Mary” and “Hail Mary – Gentle Woman.” I liked them both for the quiet melody and the ability to repeat the verses over and over and interchangeably. And of course, I liked the fact that I was praying at the same time. In fact, there were days that those were my only “good” prayers. The rest of my praying seemed to be a desperate cry for help, alternating with screaming at my kids.

There is a verse from “Gentle Woman” that goes: “Blessed are you among women/ blessed in turn all women too/ Blessed they with peaceful spirits/ Blessed they with gentle hearts.” There were many many times that these lines reduced me to sobbing for I knew that my spirit was not peaceful and my heart was not gentle (hence the screaming at my kids). I begged Mary to help me obtain the grace to have these virtues.

Last night I was nursing the baby to sleep in the glider rocker and I began to sing “Gentle Woman.” It was a quiet moment: the boys were bouncing around in their room, but Bill was in charge and they were settling down; the girls were talking and looking at books in their room as they prepared to sleep; and little Pete was drowsy and happy. There was no pressure of a sink full of dishes (oh, they were there, I just didn’t worry about them), there was no wishing that the baby would hurry up and sleep so I could get on with my evening, there was no urgent request for a cup of water or just for mommy’s presence. There was just a happy baby, drifting off to sleep at his mother’s breast while listening to her softly lift her heart up to God.

And as I sang, I listened to those words and I remembered those stressful days and I realized: my prayers had been answered. My spirit was peaceful and my heart gentle. Yes, I still scream at the kids. But not all the time and not with that same desperation. Yes, there are nights when everybody needs me, and only me. And yes, there are many nights when I wish the baby would go to sleep (and the toddler too), so I could get the dishes done and maybe read a chapter in a book or have a half hour of conversation with my husband before my bedtime. But not all the time. Now I have many nights were I can quietly sing to the baby and just enjoy those precious few minutes that will soon disappear never to return.