Well, I guess I have to do schoolwork today. Also on tap: sorting and organizing the living room and dining room where all the school supplies are kept.

Last Monday I called to see if I could get the keys and the predicted response was no, try again next week. I didn’t call yesterday, because we were on our field trip, but I’ll call today. Drove through the neighborhood last night and I predict the response will be no, try again next week.

Dear American Taxpayer,

Today is tax day. Thanks for your payment. I really appreciate it.

We just got back from the Egg Roll on the White House lawn. We had a good time. I thank you for all the free goodies and the fun memories.

I’m not sure why you had such an extravagant party or why you do this every year, but thanks for having us over. Maybe next time it won’t rain so much.

Happy Easter!

After a wonderful week free from formal education, you can imagine the resignation in my son’s voice as he asked:

“Mom, do we have school today?”

He was confident that the answer would be yes. His tone was one of defeat. He knew arguing with mom about schoolwork was futile and even dangerous…a battle likely to end in piles of extra assignments for mom thinks the best way to appreciate 2 hours of schoolwork is to do three instead. And then slave-driver mom says:

“Son, today for school you will participate in a tradition that is over a hundred years old. Today you and 10,000 other children will roll eggs on the lawn of the White House.”

Hooray for school! Let’s just hope it stops raining.

I added this button to my sidebar…if you can see my sidebar. I can’t. It’s all the way at the bottom and I’ve been unable to fix that. Sorry. I’ll keep trying.

Anyway, I’ve added this button to my sidebar:

The Catechism of the Catholic Church was instrumental in my conversion. So, if you are looking for truth, I highly recommend the ongoing discussion there. Otherwise, stay far away. You wouldn’t want to be brainwashed! ;-D

By the time I got to Mass yesterday morning, I was in a terrific mood. The kids were pumped up on sugar and happy as could be. Getting out the door to Mass was easy – the kids couldn’t wait to put on their Easter clothes and were dressed before breakfast. We were able to leave early enough that we got there before it was completely full.

Seated behind us was a couple with one child who is the same age as Peter. Their son and mine had been baptized at the same ceremony last August. I saw them all the time at this Mass but never sat very close to them. Although the wife appears to be my age (35!) give or take 5 years either way, the husband is salty-haired and has a weathered face. At the baptism, I remembered wondering if he was the grandfather (at a military post, it is not uncommon to see women and children and no dads, not because dad doesn’t like going to Mass, but because dad is in Afghanistan or Iraq or some other equally wonderful place), but since I’ve seen this couple together at many Masses in the last 9 months, I’ve concluded that they are husband and wife.

Wow, this man was full of joy. I could feel it. It was in his voice as he recited the prayers. It emanated from him and truly warmed my soul. It was like sitting in front of a space heater only instead of pouring out heat, he was radiating love.

I’ve met very few people capable of transmitting that feeling just by their presence or by reciting rote prayers. It was pretty cool.

All I could think was: here is an older man married to a younger (but not young, let’s be honest) woman who is given a gift from God – a baby boy. How could he not be joyous? How wonderful to have a beautiful family even if that precious time in your life didn’t come until you thought you’d be too old to enjoy it? Was Abraham half as joy-filled as this man?

After Mass, Bill asked me if I noticed a badge he was wearing. I had, but didn’t know what it was. I guess if you’ve served in the military, you are authorized to wear a badge on your civilian clothes that shows off the highest medal you’ve acheived. His badge indicated he’d been awarded the Silver Star. I’m willing to bet that he has some interesting stories to tell.

Saying Mass was an older black priest – my favorite here on post. All the other priests skip the Confeitor routinely. He never does. I love this prayer. I’ve always loved this prayer. It is wonderfully appropriate for Mass during Lent. I was awe-struck at how appropriate it was for Mass on Easter morning. Maybe it was the love-radiator behind me who helped me to feel the grace that accompanies the humility in confessing our sinful nature.

The rest of Mass was the normal routine of pacifying the baby, corralling the toddler and occasionally correcting the behavior of the older children. Bill was distracted by the “deacon” who was wearing a collar and whose stole did not cross his body…but neither of us were able to pay attention (with our eyes) to the consecration to see if he was a deacon or a priest. Very odd. Katie and Fritz stayed in the pew during Communion and got into an argument about who would sit where. I relocated Fritz to a neutral third location, but Katie continued to softly sob because she wanted to sit in my seat and I wouldn’t let her. Girls.

At the end of Mass, the man behind me apologized if he contributed to the delinquincy of our toddler. Jenny had charmed the pants off of him with her antics and by amusing his son. Seeing an appreciative audience only inspired her to do more. But he was still exuding joy, so I couldn’t be mad at him – or even at Jenny who obviously felt his joi de vivre as well. And then he declared ME a saint. But since I’m not dead, it’s pretty easy to argue against that one. Maybe some day. God willing and if the creek don’t rise.

Have a Blessed Triduum and a Joyous Easter.

Any mother who ever has that question cross her mind should really think twice before proceeding with something.

I was helping Billy help Jenny who wanted a microwaved pancake. Billy doesn’t get much opportunity to use the microwave, so I was giving him instructions from 2 rooms away while doing Katie’s hair. I knew this wasn’t a good idea, but I asked myself: what’s the worst that could happen?

Two minutes later…

“Mom, there’s smoke!”

I hope the Lily of the Valley scented candle will improve the odor of my home.

Update: For a while my house smelled of burning Lily of the Valley. But it seems ok now.

I’ve been reading this book, Come to the Table: A Catholic Passover Seder for Holy Week by Meredith Gould.

It’s pretty neat, and I think I’ll incorporate some of the readings into our dinner tonight. The kids know that it’s matzohs and grape juice for dinner. They love being able to drink from my real wine glasses (I live life on the edge).

We’ve spent every Holy Thursday recalling the Israelites Exodus from Egypt and talking about the meaning for us Christians, but I’ve never used a formal guide.

I am just very sad that Bill will likely not be home in time to eat with us, and probably won’t even be able to go to Mass tonight. Since we’ve had kids, one or the other of us goes to Mass and then the other goes to Eucharistic Adoration after Mass is over. But Bill hasn’t been home from work before 7 pm all week, and tonight will probably be the same. But we’ll ask ourselves, anyway:

Why is tonight different than all other nights?

Tonight’s challenge: make tonight different than all other nights. You don’t need to eat lamb and matzohs. Read the story of Exodus. Think about the passing through the Red Sea as a foreshadowing of baptism. And keep watch in the garden, unlike Simon Peter who could not keep watch for one hour (Mark 14:37).

The kitchen is half done.

And I’ve noted a few collections:

16 cookbooks, not including the two I put in the giveaway pile or several (well, 3 or 4 or 5) small paperback ones. But this total does include 2 copies of Joy of Cooking. My old copy is falling apart, but the new revision did some totally different stuff and I don’t know if I want to get rid of some of what is found in the old version. I think 16 cookbooks (give or take a few) is reasonable for someone who likes to cook and bake. I do find lots of recipes on-line. I guess my count is 17 if you include my binder with loose recipes.

16 different bottles of booze. I keep saying that I’m going to make myself a nice drink, like a gin and tonic, but it never happens. They just sit there, taunting me. Recently, Bill has been indulging in Manhattens (yuck). I think 3 bottles are for that drink alone.

6 different types of mustard. We like mustard, although we’ve been consuming one type most often: Schaller & Weber’s Bavarian-Style Sweet & Spicy Mustard. yum yum.

4 different types of vinegar. If you’ve never tried champagne vinegar with tarragon, I highly recommend it for use in salad dressings. Delectable, but expensive.

20 different glasses for wine or cordials or shots…but mostly for beer. Heaven forbid you drink a Guiness out of a Duvel glass or a Chimay out of a pilsner glass.

Fritz: Mom, do you know what a wet willy is?

Me: Yes.

Fritz: What?

His tone was a challenge. I think he thought I didn’t know. I think he thought I might ask him what it was.

My response was to lick my finger and reach for his ear. He ran, calling out: How did you know?

I am old and wise.