On tap for today is cleaning the kitchen. I don’t think I’m going to get the work done as well as usual. We’re moving in a few weeks, and the houses are being demolished, so leaving the cabinets spotless isn’t necessary. It seems a bit pointless to spend several hours scrubbing and cleaning if I only get to enjoy it for a short time. I’m going to try to get the fridge and stove done, though. But most important is the sorting and organizing that has been put off. Ugh.

I didn’t get much work done yesterday. I was babysitting a neighbor’s daughter. Her son was having surgery and she and her husband were at the hospital all day.

I’m falling way behind in a book that Bill and I are reading for Lent: The Power of the Cross by Michael Dubruiel. The only chance we have to do it is at night, but we’ve both been so exhausted that even if we manage to stay awake for the 10 – 15 minutes it takes to do a day’s reading, our comprehension levels are at a pretty low level. In other words, it’s doing nothing for us.

But a few days ago, there was the following quote:

But now having been freed from sin and enslaved to God, you derive your benefit, resulting in sanctification, and the outcome, eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:22-23

And the discussion question that followed was: What does it mean to be a slave to God?

Slaves don’t have a choice in their work. They do as they are told. Their time is not their own, their labor is all at the bidding of the master. Their “free” time is not a right, but a privilege.

Being a slave to God means doing the work that needs doing whether we like it or not. So, Bill is happy that these neighbors will likely move at the end of the summer, because he thinks it means that it is one less person who will say “Help!” and turn to me, his wife, for that help. I think he thinks I do too much. And I do have trouble saying no, even if it means I won’t get my spring cleaning done or I’ll have to forego attending a monthly meeting that I want to attend.

But I told him that there will always be people who need help, so having these needy neighbors move away won’t change much. He could move me to rural Wyoming and as long as I have an internet connection and access to a post office, I’ll fill my days with some activity or another (care packages for the troops or something). Because I’m a slave to God. And there are times that it isn’t much fun.

Work will make you free. Thank God.

“A world at prayer is a world at peace.”
– Father Patrick Peyton

An explanation of a special request for prayers at Catholic Exchange.

And the website with more details.

Pray for the families of deployed soldiers too. Their crosses are very heavy.

Although the entire house is asleep, I find myself fighting a million domestic distractions while praying the rosary.

How will I survive the day’s agenda?
How much laundry is piling up?
What am I making for dinner?
Do I have any errands that need to be run?
Will Pete sleep late enough for me to do X and Y AND Z, too?

And as I’m supposed to be mediatating on the last decade – Jesus dies on the cross – I find myself with only 3 more Hail Marys and I don’t think I’ve done an ounce of meditating. I look at the crucifix, and I have this thought:

The women were standing vigil at the cross. It was afternoon and the Sabbath was coming soon. They needed to be home with all their work DONE by sundown. They wouldn’t be able to do it the next day, the day of rest. And I really can’t imagine that for a minute they thought about the undone laundry or the dough left to rise but never baked or the water that needed fetching. The most important thing for them was to be there at the foot of the cross, praying, weeping, supporting each other.

And why, oh WHY, can I not give 15 minutes of my day to this meditation?

Not a bad morning. All kids’ bedrooms done. Bathrooms done. All errands attempted (one failure).

Need to finish my room and tax stuff.

Must get baby to sleep.

dinner……..

Since Amy asked…about my move and my “pre-move prep ticker”:

I live in military housing that is slated to be demolished and replaced with newer housing. I could do a lot of complaining about this here, but maybe I’ll save that for another post. It’s not my house, so there’s not much I can do about it.

Half of my neighborhood has already been relocated to another neighborhood of new housing that is about 3 miles away. Both neighborhoods are on post, but it takes about 10 minutes to get from one area to the other because the speed limits are generally 30 mph or less and there are stop signs and traffic lights along the way.

There are about 25 families still here waiting to be moved. We have been told that today, April 10th, the keys will be available and we can begin to move our things in. Private movers have been hired, and they are responsible for moving all of our stuff, including packing it. Anything we decide to move will be for our own convenience. I plan to move everything in my kitchen, because it will be much easier than sorting and unpacking all those boxes. I also plan to move the drawers and their contents to all the dressers the day before our move so that our clothes won’t get packed away.

My move date has been set for April 27th – April 29th. I was at the house yesterday and it looks done (doors were locked, I peeked through the blinds), except for the house number. Other houses on that block are NOT done yet, though, so I don’t think I’ll be able to get the keys until they’re complete (maybe another week). All of my other neighbors live in 2 other blocks, and those look totally done.

The big problem is that we were told the movers can move 4 families per week. We are being told that all families must be out by the end of April. Perhaps as many as 5 families will have Army movers come and take their stuff, because they are moving away this summer. But there are probably 20 families who are supposed to move in 20 days. So, I’m a bit skeptical that I will actually move by the end of April. I’m going to push for it though, because Fritz’s First Holy Communion is May 14th and I will not move any later than May 8th (or they’ll wait until May 18th).

Since I have movers coming, all I need to do is organize and get rid of things. I have listed every room and broken the room down into “tasks”. In my bedroom, I have 2 closets, 1 dresser, 2 end tables with drawers, one small storage table and a cedar chest. That’s 7 seven tasks. Completing a task means that I have gone through that closet or dresser and pulled out everything that doesn’t belong there and organized what remains. In the kitchen, I’ve listed each pair of cabinets as a task. Some tasks are 5 minute jobs, and some – like the fridge – will take an hour or more to do (I’ll scour the fridge as part of my spring cleaning).

Yesterday I dropped 2 bags of clothes off at the thrift store. I have some toys and books to donate to the babysitting at church today. And I really need to get my tax info to my dad today. Talk about unloading excess baggage!

Need some tips on spring cleaning?

Today’s To-Do List:

The 4 Bedrooms: organize, change sheets, clean windows, dust.
The 2 Bathrooms: organize and clean

Errands:

dry cleaners
deliver baked ziti for charity dinner
drop off toys/children’s books for church babysitting

a little more done

Homily by Father Scalia through Catholic Exchange.

Persistence is such an admirable trait.

It is the drive that differentiates between a good athlete and an Olympic champion.
It’s what gets someone from fry-cook to owner of a chain.
It’s what produces great talent out of someone who isn’t a “natural” – whether it be in the arena of sports, art, music, or just simply life.

Try, try, again, and eventually, you’ll get good.

Persistence is what keeps a mom’s hair from going too gray too fast, or her face from getting too wrinkly too soon, or her mind from going bonkers before she hits 40.

Moms need persistence to deal with the never-ending cycle of “Mom can I? – no – please? – no – please? – no – pretty please? – no” or to deal with a toddler’s tornado-like ability to wreak havoc on a calm and clean household. Well, a mom doesn’t really need persistence, but if she doesn’t have it, she will be more likely to respond to such situations with yelling and pulling her hair out.

Persistence is a virtue in the adult world. I think I have a lot of persistence. I can blithely say no for the 239th time to a lollipop before dinner, and I’m pretty amused and amazed at my children’s repeated requests for something as if the world changed in the last 5 minutes making roller-blading down the park slide a safe thing to do or whatever. As long as the badgering is polite and not whiny or abusive, we can play the game all day. I will admit, though, that if all 4 kids hit me at once, I have to start doling out time in the penalty box. There is a limit to my sanity and peace of mind.

Persistence, however, in a child is not appreciated as a virtue. The child who can ask 239 times for a lollipop before dinner is usually considered annoying, not admirable. Moms don’t really want persistent juveniles, but of course would want persistent adult children. Or rather, we want our children to be persistent when learning to play a musical instrument or learning to hit a tennis ball or struggling with math or soliciting customers for their lawn mowing business. But we don’t want them to be persistent when they want to do things we don’t want them to do.

Well, a persistent kid is a persistent kid in all (or most) things. The key is to focus on the positive – think to the future! Know that their persistence really needs to be encouraged, so that it will develop into a strong and admirable adult trait.

This is a pep rally for me. All of my kids are persistent. Some more so than others. Billy is particularly persistent when he wants something. Jenny isn’t often willing to accept no for an answer.

And Pete, only 9 months old is beginning to show early signs of persistence. He knows where the toilet paper can be found and that, if he manages to get a loose end, he can unroll the whole thing. He knows where the toy room is and gets really upset if his siblings close the door to keep him out. And he knows where Katie’s Playmobile palace is and boy, oh boy, does he want to play with all those cool little pieces, especially those itty bitty flowers that roll so nicely on his tongue. And if mommy sits in front of the palace to block his access, he will crawl all over her and fight like mad to try to get around her.

Yes, persistence is the hallmark of the most successful people in the world. Persistence is good…persistence is good…persistence is good…

Today is my birthday. I’m 35 years old.

No, no, it’s ok. I don’t expect anyone to know or remember my birthday (well, except for my immediate family). I realize that I’m not the center of anyone else’s universe. And I don’t know the birthdays of even close friends, so it’s ok if they don’t know mine.

Usually, my birthday is pretty awful anyway. It’s not that bad things happen, it’s just that it doesn’t feel like a special day. It’s just life as usual.

Last year, for example, there was a mandatory meeting for parents with children in the baseball program on my birthday. It was at 6 pm. I didn’t want to cook on my birthday, so we went out to eat. But Bill didn’t get home until about 530 pm, so dinner was drive-through Wendy’s which we ate in the parking lot. Bill then got into his car (we brought 2 cars) and went to the meeting, while my 4 little children and my swollen pregnant belly and I went to Baskin Robbins for ice cream. And Bill ordered me some gifts, but they were late (because he waited until the last minute, of course).

This is my typical birthday.

But this year, probably because he knew he had no free time and also because there are stores like Hallmark and CVS and others right inside the Pentagon where he has a lot of downtime, Bill took care of everything in advance, and I’m having the best birthday ever.

First of all, he wished me a happy birthday as he was kissing me good morning. Then, when I joined him downstairs for breakfast, I saw 2 presents and a card on the dining room table. Wow. Here’s one of my presents:

To understand this, let’s go back a few nights. I was cutting fruit to make a salad for breakfast the next day. I was careless. I sliced my finger – badly enough to need stitches. I went to the emergency room (drove myself!), but when I got there, I thought that it had started to heal. I told myself I was being a wimp (I’ve never had stitches) and carried on. But when I got to the actual waiting room and saw how crowded it was for 930 pm, I decided that I had better things to do and went home. I searched our first aid supplies and realized that we didn’t have gauze and adhesive tape. As I put a bandaid on, I grumbled to Bill that we needed better supplies for the next time. He also said that it was a good thing that he hadn’t bought me those knives I wanted for my birthday. I agreed. Surely, if I were using real good sharp knives, I would be missing the tip of my pointer finger.

My other present was a set of real good sharp knives.

Gosh, I don’t even want to know how much they cost. But I am so happy to be able to get rid of the haphazard, eclectic and less-than effective collection I currently use.

But the morning gets better. Shortly after he left, Fritz woke up and presented me with a card (bought by Dad at the Pentagon) and signed by him.

About a half hour later, Jenny woke up. She came downstairs, gave me hugs and kisses and smiles and sat on my lap for several minutes. Oh, she’s no longer a baby, but I love this cuddling that I get most mornings. And then she remembered something and went back upstairs. I was worried that she was going to wake the baby or her sister or make some mess…I almost called her back. But she came down a minute later and presented me with a card! So sweet.

Then Billy and then Katie followed with their cards. I guess at bedtime last night there was whispering and conspiring that I managed to miss. That’s pretty amazing.

After everyone was awake, Fritz played “Happy Birthday” on the piano and everybody sang to me. Very cute. And, yes, a very happy day.