I’m not getting any work done…but I’m getting organized. Doesn’t that count a little?

The daily ritual.

Billy: MOM, MOM, MOM, I can’t get a bowl down!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: What would you like me to do?

Billy: Get me a bowl.

Me: (intent staring)

Billy: Please.

Me: Please, what?

Billy: Please get me a bowl down.

Me: Sure, honey. Here you go.

Billy: I want Coco Puffs.

Me: (intently staring)

Billy: Please.

Me: Please, what?

Billy: Please can I have Coco Puffs?

Me: Sure!

Billy: Ugh, I always forget those words!

Me: That’s why I always remind you. Ugh to you!

God has given Bill and I a really big issue to deal with this Lent.

We had a LOT of money stolen from us. By a friend.

I won’t go into details, but it’s a high enough amount that our ability to pay our bills has been affected. It really stinks.

The issue is not what to do. I guess there might be some debate about what legal action to take. I’ve been arguing that legal action will only waste more of our money. A judge will rule in our favor, but it’s not like there’s money in the bank, you know? It’s not like the person has a brand-new BMW that we could put a lien on.

The real issue is how to deal with the anger.

Bill wrote an email which vented his anger. It said all the nasty things and called all the nasty names that he could think of. He didn’t send it, of course. (My outgoing email problem has not been resolved – still…talk about needing a class on anger management!!!…but it’s good, because he just might have, oops, sent it). He actually had to get up and walk away from the email, though, because he recognized it for what it was – just plain nastiness.

I think he felt better though getting his feelings expressed, even if it was just to me and to God. He told me, “I feel like I got punched in the jaw.” I said, “You got slapped on the cheek.” But we agree, turning and offering the other cheek – which to me means getting over the anger – is so very hard.

We want satisfaction, retribution, justice. Most of our anger stems from not being able to attain that. Forgiveness is so much easier when wrongs can be righted. Repay the debt, and you’ll be forgiven. Pay for the damage, return the stolen property, say I’m sorry…and then we can be friends again.

But here I have to forgive someone who can’t fix it. And that, more than any rosaries or fasts or tithes, is Lent, practically applied.

The top of our microwave is our “readiness center”. It’s key storage, cell phone storage (and power station), need-to-take-with-me-tomorrow storage. Occasionally other things get dumped there too, but I try to keep it tidy and uncluttered so you can find the important stuff.

Last night Bill was trying to find room for all his electronic gadgets, some of which needed to be charged. It was frustrating for him. I would have helped, but I was trying to slice fruit for breakfast.

Unhelpful Wife: “You have too many gadgets.”

Unhappy Husband: “I have exactly how many gadgets I need for my job!”

Well, he has one extra gadget than his day-job requires…but I want him to have it for me: his cell phone. I do like to be able to reach him, especially to find out if he’ll be home in time to take a child to some activity!

Being a general’s assistant executive officer requires him to have a Blackberry and a cell phone (in case the Blackberry doesn’t have coverage – a bit of overkill, I think). And since he is required to pay for all personal calls made or received on his work cell phone, he has his own (he already had it anyway, so no change there).

It’s a good thing those uniforms have so many pockets. In fact, if they made those shirts in a lighter fabric in a nice blue color, I might get one. And the pockets on the pants are definitely big enough for a diaper and a small pack of baby wipes. Then I would just need to find sippy cups with carabiner clips to hook on my belt loops and I’d be free from toting a diaper bag around. This would allow me to chase wayward children who wander into parking lots.

Technologically speaking, I’m a bit slow on what the different things do nowadays. (Boy, do I sound old or what?) Seriously, I can’t tell you the difference between an MP3 and a CD. I really don’t know why anyone would want to take photos with their cell phone (a digital camera is much better). And I don’t feel the need to receive (or send) text messages while I’m at the grocery store.

But I do like the Blackberry. And so does Bill. He gets stuck outside meetings all the time waiting for his boss. And while he waits, he goes through his email (most of which is work related) and he does his job. But he can also get my notes, and links to amusing articles I send to him. He doesn’t always have the time to read them or respond to them, but it’s nice having that open line.

Here’s a nice posting on being a real man, not a guy:

Finally, as a great writer once said, “If my father was the head of the house, my mother was its heart.” A man isn’t the soft comforting lap the kids sit on to be rocked to sleep, or the kiss that makes owwies all better. He may be called on to do those things sometimes, but he’s not really constructed for it. A man is the solidity in his family, the rock that can’t be broken. He’s also the wall that shields them from storms, and the roof that keeps their heads dry. Which usually means getting rained on or wind-beaten himself. If you don’t do that, a woman has to, and it’s something they’re not constructed for.

And I offer a cheer to my husband, who isn’t perfect, but whose imperfection generally stems from not being womanly enough…and that’s ok!

My body feels normal from the neck down. I just wish I could take my head off.

This begins my third day with a sore throat. All the glands, lymph nodes or whatever around my neck are swollen and tender. My head hurts. I’m tired.

Just decapitate me. I’ll feel much better.

There are some pretty funny stories here about real April Fool’s Day jokes played by the media on the unsuspecting population.

Thanks to Eric Scheske.

May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.

Missing you.

A few more pictures.

Billy kept telling me, “Look, Mom.” And I kept saying, “No! I’m looking at my daughter (who is about to fall into the tidal basin).” Bill’s picture shows me saying this (impatiently) for about the fifth time.

And Pete decided he’d be social this day. He made the day of an elderly man by practicing his new thing: nearly waving (whereby he raises his arm, but can’t do the motion part).

Cherry blossoms in full bloom this weekend.

We sat in stop and rarely go traffic for more than an hour and a half. No kidding. We ate our picnic lunch in the car.

And Moby was running at nearly full capacity – eleven of us piled in!

Here is Jenny-Of-The-Filthy-Face and Bill and his sister Margaret with most of the kids. Katie is a mini-Margaret. There is no doubt that she’s my husband’s child (not that there ever WAS a doubt…).

And here are our friends: Caleb and little Josh and mom Stacy. In the traffic, while we ate lunch, I HAD to pull Pete out of his seat and nurse him. I was sandwiched between the two rear-facing car seats in the row behind the driver. It was tight. Pete fell asleep, thankfully. But then Josh started to cry. Stacy and I somehow managed to switch seats (she was in the front passenger seat) and she pulled Josh out.

Meanwhile, Fritz said he had to go to the bathroom, so poor Margaret in the back row had to hold a cup for him. What fun.

I had considered taking the metro, but we really needed the strollers and that makes travel a bit more difficult. If it were just one kid in a small stroller, no problem…but double strollers are a bit unwieldy.