I suppose I should blog more often than once a month.

I do post on FB, but that’s only because it’s easier, when the Kindle is working.  Right now it’s dead, and not charging.

Most of my FB activity is all #Gosnell this or Boy Scouts that.  I did post about eagerly anticipating the end of May, because I have arranged for the kids to be off music lessons and gymnastics/sports for June, July, and August.  We all need a break from the constant running.

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Took George to the doctor today.  The doctor praised me for catching his ear infection so quickly.  No clever detective work occurred.  If I find myself strapping a kid into a car seat at 1 am and going for a drive to get him to fall asleep, something is wrong.

After his appointment, I had to get the antibiotics at the clinic’s pharmacy.  I waited for over 45 minutes, with a hungry baby who had an ear infection.  I thought I was going to lose it, and the only thing that saved me was another mom with two little kids in tow who was also waiting and who did vocalize her frustration to the people at the pharmacy. 

I gave her a mental fist bump.

While I waited, I had plenty of time to think about how the doctor tried to look in George’s throat, and he wasn’t complying, so she pried his jaw apart with her fingers and held his tongue down.  No big deal – I do that move multiple times every day as he finds things on the floor.

Except she wasn’t wearing gloves.

And except I realized, in the interminable wait for Augmentin, that she had not washed her hands when she came into the exam room.

I’m not a germophobe…but with doctors’ offices, I AM a germophobe.  Can’t wait to see what lovely viruses he brought home today.

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Since I have been accused, by my not-spontaneous children, that I do not give enough warning about upcoming, unexpected events, I informed them at dinner that we were all going to a sports banquet tomorrow evening.

They all nodded OK.

“It’s dressy,” I said, clarifying “church-clothes.”

They all nodded OK.

“The theme is Italian,” I said, absently, thinking about the covered dish I planned to make.

My reverie was disturbed by the animated discussion of my children about how they would accomplish this theme.  Fritz thought he would draw a thin, black moustache on his face.  Billy thought he would wear his father’s fedora.  I’m pretty sure I heard the phrase “tommy gun” before I interrupted.

“The theme is for the food, not the clothes!!”

And that was the end of that conversation.

So I’m slowly making some aesthetic changes to my blog…right now I’m not really digging the pink which is coming up orange-y on my screen…and I need something better for the header…some other day.

BUT…

I did think it was really important to change George’s photo on the sidebar from this:

to this:

Big difference.  He’s now 17 lbs 7 oz, which they say is still under 10%, but that’s normal for my kids.

Also, big thing I realized.  Remember when I moaned about not being allowed to upload photos, having reached my maximum permitted amount?  A bunch of you said you had the same problem.  I really can’t find my post about it.  Blogger wanted to charge a fee to continue to upload pictures the easy way, or I would have to upload them from another service.  I went with the other service.  Some of you may have paid that fee.

Well, I tried uploading photos the old way with my last post and it worked.  These pictures, too!  So, if you’ve been going through the pain of uploading to one site and linking to them, try it the old way.

I can’t say that the issue was the sole reason I have reduced my blogging…but it sure didn’t help.

Easter Sunday, George and I

Yesterday was my 42nd birthday.  I don’t mind telling people my age, most of the time.  When I was pregnant, perhaps I did a bit.  But I’m getting a bit more comfortable being an old momma.  It’s becoming fashionable.

It’s hard to feel like an old woman when you have an infant.  As long as I avoid the mirror which shows off my gray hair and wrinkles, I can pretend I’m just 38 – my birthday age when Mary was an infant – or even 28 – my birthday age when Fritz was an infant.

Raise your hand if you’ve had a baby in your 20’s and your 30’s and your 40’s.

9 people really isn’t that many

My birthday presents reflect how much things have changed in 14 years, and how much things have not changed.

I received, for probably the 30th year in a row, a handmade birthday card from my brother, Glenn, who has Down Syndrome.  He turned 43 sixteen days before my birthday.  We are almost Irish twins.  His cards are fairly identical from year to year.  Happy Happy Day…Happy Birthday Day…Happy Good Day…I love you, Michelle.  I love you, too, Glenn. 

My husband, what a cutie

I also received, from my husband, a covered casserole dish set.  One of the dishes replaces one broken by George when he opened the cabinet door and pulled it down on our unforgiving tile floor.  Fourteen years of parenting inquisitive babies and it still takes a minor disaster to get me to start baby-proofing the house.  My husband also promised me a new paper towel holder, broken by an older child replacing the roll.  I don’t know who or how, but I was very thankful.  It’s gotten dingy and I’ve seen many others I liked better…but I’m not one to replace a perfectly useful gadget “just because.”  So my birthdays and Christmases are occasions to replace the things my kids have destroyed.

My parents came into town and treated all of us to a baseball game, Tampa vs. Cleveland, where we did not root, root, root for the home team, which did win, and it was a shame.  It brought back memories of many times we did root for the home team in Cleveland, and they didn’t win then either.

The boys

But unlike even 5 years ago, I also received 4 additional homemade cards, a cardboard pyramid with hieroglyphics on each face spelling out a personal message (Katie), a hand-embroidered bookmark (Katie), and an entire 30-something page book entitled “I Love You Because You’re You” written and illustrated by Jenny.

The girls

In the afternoon, while the sleep-deprived kids (from the late baseball game) were vegging in front of the TV and the baby went down for a nap, I slipped out of the house for a pedicure, my birthday present to myself.  I came back an hour later, baby still sleeping, older kids oblivious to the fact that I ever left.  The girls, though, noticed my toes immediately.  Pedi-vision – like “spider-sense” for girls.  I did not normally get pedicures 5 or 10 years ago.  It’s this southern living and beach crawling that has changed me.

My favorite people in the whole world

Today, we’re back to school.  Some of us have only 8 weeks left.  Some of us have 10.  Today’s math lesson was: if there are 32 weeks in the curriculum, and you take 8 weeks off for summer, 1 week off for Thanksgiving, 2 weeks off for Christmas, and 2 weeks off for Easter, how many weeks do you waste by procrastinating and not doing your work in a timely fashion?  We do this exact same math problem every single year, right about this time, and they still have not learned their lesson well.

Thanks to everybody who sent birthday wishes.  Facebook is good for some things!  It really is nice when your email is full of happy happy day greetings.

I was all geared up to attend the Easter Vigil Mass this coming Saturday.

Then my pastor last night mentioned that there would be forty baptisms.

WOW!

But, no thanks.  I just don’t have the energy for that this year.

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Last night, I took the 5 youngest kids {five youngest kids: that phrase makes me laugh at the me of 10 years ago who could barely handle 3 little children}…I took the 5 youngest children to the 4 pm vigil Mass.  We arrived about a minute before show time, later than I hoped, and the church was pretty full.  I pushed my way toward the front, even though it would mean we would not have an aisle seat, a risky move when one has an infant.

Side note: why, oh why, does everybody come in and sit on the aisle?  I guess it’s ok if the church isn’t typically full.  But our Masses are all very full.  If you sit on the aisle, people will have to ask you to move, either to the middle or out of their way as they climb over you.  I usually sit in the middle when entering an empty pew.  Unless I have George.  Or unless I’m with my entire family.  We take up the whole row.

I ended up squeezing 6 of us into 4 seats – our church has individual chairs because we are saving to build a real church.  Fortunately, the seats are connected, and George doesn’t need a seat, so it was crowded, but fine.  We were in the middle of elderly couples, all of whom had secured the aisle seats.  I felt a chill in the air, as though I were an interloper sitting in reserved seats.  It was bad enough that I had sat among them, but I had children, too.  Horrors.

Fortunately, God was smiling on me and George fell asleep without much ado.  He stayed sleeping even through being buckled into his seat and driving home.  After Mass, one smiling woman felt moved to tell me how wonderfully my family had behaved.  I hope the other couples felt the same way.  It’d be nice to think we’re spreading a bit of joy to others.

Note to self: do not be a grumpy old person.

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Speaking of spreading joy, I was at stations of the cross two Friday evenings ago, and had to relocate to the rear of the church with a fussy baby.  A woman entered a bit late and sat right next to me as I was nursing him, even though there were plenty of empty seats a bit farther on.  Later I realized she was waiting for someone.  After George was done, I allowed him to crawl around as we alternated between standing and kneeling.  At one point, while kneeling, George crawled over to her, climbed up on her and allowed her to hold him while he smiled and laughed.  It is not at all like him to be that way with strangers, but I think he was fascinated by her glasses which were so much like mine.  It was only for a minute or two, but I could tell she was absolutely delighted.  She seemed about ten years older than I, so likely there are few infants in her daily life.  I was happy to share mine with her, even briefly.

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Since the new year, I’ve been participating in The Year of Faith 90-Day Bible Reading Challenge which takes you through 14 narrative books of the Bible: Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, Joshua, Judges, 1 Samuel, 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, 2 Kings, Ezra, Nehemiah, 1 Maccabees, Luke, and Acts.  I had already read all but Ezra, Nehemiah and 1 Maccabees, but I had not read them straight through in such a condensed time period.  Most days, there were 4 or 5 chapters to read, which took about 15 minutes, sometimes a bit more.  It’s been great.  One new year’s resolution this year was for me to read the whole Bible.  13 down, 60 books to go.

I’ve been using the USCCB’s online Bible for my reading.  (This was fine until my kindle died.)  I have also been reading over the footnotes, which I find very helpful.  I don’t go to all the cross references, but the remarks on the historical/social aspects of the various stories help put things in context.  For example, the many times that Luke portrays Christ’s treatment of women or non-Jews with respect outside the norm is highlighted and is something that a modern reader like myself might not notice – so what? that Martha’s sister Mary sat at His feet, except that was a big deal, apparently.  Also, noted was that big portions of 1 Maccabees are given to lauding the Romans who offered protection to the small kingdom of Judah in that 1st century BC, but since it was the Romans who destroyed the Temple and sought to obliterate Judaism as well in the 1st century AD, the Jews of that era struck Maccabees from their scriptures.

Politics.

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And a great quote for the beginning of Holy Week, especially if you’ve been thinking you did a great job with your Lenten resoutions:

So should it be with you.  When you have done all you have been commanded, say, “We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we are obliged to do.”  Luke 17:10

As my husband always says: nobody gets an award for just doing his job.  Keeping the commandments, loving our neighbor, imitating Christ.  It’s our job.

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Have a fruitful, blessed and fulfilling Holy Week.

If you have ever had a baby, you have likely had that depressing experience where you, positive that the really baggy pants that were your comfy, hanging around the house on Saturday afternoon, go-to comfort item, try to squeeze into them only to stop mid-thigh because they simply aren’t making it up.

If you have never done this, I don’t want to hear about it.

Today’s temps are expected to be in the mid-70’s (don’t hate me because I live in Florida – I didn’t pick it), so I pulled out a pair of black capris that fit me 2 summers ago, but definitely did not work even back in November (when wearing capris was still an everyday thing).  With trepidation, I cloistered myself in the bathroom with another pair of pants so that I could emerge dressed, one way or the other. 

Fortunately for my ego, the smaller size did, in fact, fit.  Not, perhaps as well yet as they did 2 summers ago, but the color is slimming and I feel optimistic that the rest of my pre-baby wardrobe may soon emerge from mothball storage (that’s a figure of speech: I wouldn’t know the first things about mothballs).  So nice to get “new” clothes without spending a dime.

And, for my added enjoyment, I put my hand in the pocket and found a very clean $10 bill. 

Double woohoo.

Alligator OK to eat on Lenten Fridays, archbishop clarifies – you have to live in the South to not ask yourself if these people are serious.  Alligator is on most menus down here.

Euphemism of the day: “terminal sedation.”  No, really, kids…Dad is just singing his favorite Ramones’ song.

 Of the myriad of things I gave up for Lent (like Facebook), the one that is hardest for me is not getting on the scale every day.  I’ve considered simply moving it to an out-of-sight location, but there’s no challenge in that.  It’s all about impulse control.

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Someone writes:

I have to ask: what’s your stance on the parish Lenten fish fry?

Does anyone else struggle with this a bit? Maybe I am over-thinking it…I don’t mean to sound more Catholic than the Pope, for lack of better words.

I’d love to hear other opinions on this.  My own thoughts are a work in progress.  Here’s what I’ve been thinking.

 Each of the last 5 parishes where I attended Mass had Stations of the Cross on Friday nights.  Three of these parishes also had some sort of meal prior to it.  Of the two that did not, I did not attend Stations at one because of little children.  At the other, I only attended a few times because my daughters had dance class on Friday evenings.  This church did not have a large turnout for stations (at most 30 people in a parish of over 800 families).

At the 3 parishes that did have meals, including my current parish, both the meal and the Stations were well attended.

Two parishes were at military chapels: small, close-knit communities.  At both, the event was billed as “Soup and Stations,” and the meal was a potluck soup and bread/rolls.  At one, the event was very family-focused and many people brought cheese pizza, mac and cheese, and other meatless dishes in addition to soup.  The kids played and had a great time; the adults kibbitzed; it was fun! At the other, PB&J was made available “for children only” and a dim view was taken if you weren’t on board with the sacrificial nature of the event.  The kids still played and adults talked, but it was a bit less rowdy, in part due to the demographics of fewer families with little children and in part due to the “Friday-penance” attitude.

At both of these parishes, just about everybody who attended the meal also attended the Stations.  The chapel was filled – not uncomfortably filled like Sunday morning Mass, but certainly not empty.  Compared to the parish that did not have a meal, and had very few attendees, I have to believe that a shared meal and social hour – whether it is fun or more sober – increases participation in the Stations.  Note that the Stations themselves were as reverent as can be expected due to the age of the participants in every parish I attended.

Briefly, I will note that the one parish where I did not participate in the Stations and which did not have a Friday meal, instead, if I recall correctly, had a soup dinner on Wednesdays during Lent.  I believe the idea there was to keep Friday Stations as quiet, reverent, and introspective (how can I personally love Christ better?) and to use our love of fun and community to add a joyful sacrifice on Wednesdays by eating a small, meatless meal on an extra day when it is not required.  I do not know how well either of those events was attended, but I suspect that many people did go.  It’s just how the parish was. 

Last night was my first experience with a fish fry.  I can see how it is a tremendous fund-raiser for a parish: two adult and four kid dinners cost me nearly $40.  They had a line out the door most of the time, and they even had a drive-thru for take-home fried deliciousness.  Because this was the first Friday in Lent, my parish also had activities for the kids, all seasonally appropriate, as a Lenten “kick-off”.  I did raise an eyebrow at the face-painting.  I have no idea of the profit margin, but I imagine, assuming you have the right people running things, that it is quite good, and multiplied out by 6 Fridays, makes the venture quite lucrative.

And it’s not like they take the money and buy BMW’s with it.  It goes to the ministries and other charities or church overhead.  And the church was full for Stations, too; not everybody stayed, of course, but many did.  So, people gave up money they might not have otherwise and they prayed at a time they might not have otherwise…I have a hard time saying it’s wholly wrong.

However, what is the purpose of Lent?  From the Catechism of the Catholic Church we have this:  

1438    The seasons and days of penance in the course of the liturgical year (Lent, and each Friday in memory of the death of the Lord) are intense moments of the Church’s penitential practice.These times are particularly appropriate for spiritual exercises, penitential liturgies, pilgrimages as signs of penance, voluntary self-denial such as fasting and almsgiving, and fraternal sharing (charitable and missionary works). 

and from the Gospel of Matthew:

9:14-15  Then the disciples of John approached him and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast (much), but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast.

Penance, self-denial, fasting…these are not words that go along with fun.  And the imagery of a wedding feast ended and the guests in mourning for the bridegroom certainly bolsters the idea that we should not party our way through Lent.

How does your parish do Fridays in Lent and how do you feel about it?

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This blog post took me ALL DAY to write.  This is why:

Instead of blogging, I should have been lowering his crib mattress:

But that’s tomorrow’s all day project.

I usually get a large number of requests for this file.  I have formatted it to print in booklet form.

Stations of the Cross for Children

If you have trouble getting the document through that link, email me and I will send it to you.

I left pages blank and encourage you to have your children create their own illustrations for each station.

Over and over, I hear good Catholics who say that not eating meat on Fridays is too easy, and therefore, they feel they should pick something different.

If on Fridays you substitute shrimp and lobster for spaghetti and meatballs, I almost might agree.  Consider eating like a poor person and have a bowl of plain rice.

For those of us seeking a good retort to those who don’t want to follow the Church’s law on abstaining from meat on Fridays, I offer the following:

But Samuel said, “Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obedience to the Lord’s command?  Obedience is better than sacrifice, to listen, better than the fat of rams.”  1Samuel 15:22

Obedience is better, because obedience, for most of us, is harder.

A few weeks ago, I sent an email to my boys’ Scout troop about camping over a Sunday and not providing an opportunity for the boys to attend Mass.  Since the troop belongs to my church, I included our pastor on the distro list.  A few hours later, he sent this response:

 
Your Pastor

 I was elated by this support.  

The following day, the leader who questioned my son’s reason for not going on the trip sent an apology and a sincere explanation that he in no way meant to dissuade Fritz from his religious convictions.  Of course, I know he did not.  Unfortunately, though, the bad example remains, and actions speak louder than words.  He did mention planning for future camp-outs, so I do have hope that when they look at a calendar and talk about what trips they will do, somebody, somewhere, will say, “You know, if those Reitemeyer boys can’t get to Mass, they won’t go.”  And maybe countless other parents will be happy, not knowing why exactly the troop started making little changes, but just grateful that they did.

“They apparently couldn’t start it,” Bean said. “I had to tell him four different times to push in the clutch, because it’s a standard transmission.”