He Ain't Heavy...

My middle brother is getting married tomorrow.

I can't believe it. Middle brother is 'the quiet one'. I am feeling like a true, overbearing big sister, worrying over him, hoping he is (and will continue to be) happy. I hope his future wife sees all the wonderful things I see in him and know about him. I have known him all his life. I know that although he is quiet, it's true when someone says 'still waters run deep'. I know he can keep your confidence like no one's business. He is loyal to a fault, incredibly kind, trustworthy and dependable. He is a rare gift of authenticity and quiet confidence in this world of so much superficiality, acquisitiveness, noise. So many of us don't know or forget 'who we are'. But I think Ron knows.

When he was a baby he used to be carried around the ice rink by my Dad, and they would chase me around the rink. He couldn't say my name, so he yelled 'Eeees'. He and I swam on the swim team together and played tennis together almost every summer of our childhoods. We loved the ice cream man, so we devised a way -- with Mom's help -- of making extra money to buy his offerings. We sold Kool Aid to the neighborhood builders and made a small fortune. We babysat neighbors' cats and dogs. We put together so much money we bought a television. We attended Catholic school together, eventually both attending Notre Dame together. Although he was a freshman when I was a senior, and we didn't really run in the same social scene, we ate together at the dining hall about once/ month, just to catch up with one another. We worked together as lifeguards, and for a dozen reasons there is no one with whom I would rather work. He's the guy who always shows up, always does a great job, never left me muttering about 'where did you learn to do....". What a great privilege it has been -- and is -- to live alongside him.

He is my eldest son's Godfather, or Keresztapa. Not only is he K-Boy's Keresztapa, but he has been a part of each child's baptism, been a part of almost every holiday he can make it to, and he offers my three endless patience. Those of us who know children firsthand know this is a precious tremendous gift.

And so I will toast him and his bride tonight with all my love and all the hope in my heart, that they always see one another's gifts. Someone said love is ideal, but marriage is real. Take care of one another, and know that you always have me to call on, whether you need to save up for a television; or just need to lean on someone who knows your gifts, and your hopes; or you need a little unsolicited overbearing advice. I've always loved you. I always will.

Easter Monday

We enjoyed a beautiful Easter weekend, with visits from Husby's brother and his wife Saturday night, and then Easter dinner here at home with his dad, whom the babies call Boppa.

The bunny brought yummy chocolates and hid eggs filled with coins in the backyard. The children looked very pretty in their Easter finery. Mass was too crowded. Sigh. I suppose we ought to be grateful for anyone who makes an appearance for Mass, but why double the crowds twice a year?

The big wedding is this coming weekend, and I am still hoping for no tuxes, though I don't believe that Miracle will be happening. I reflected a bit this weekend about our Catholic school situation, and I have come to a conclusion that this traditional pastor really only impacts my son and my family as much as we allow him to do so. "The receiver receives in the manner s/he receives." In other words, people are only as powerful as we allow them to be. For now, I think, we'll be leaving Kindergarten Boy where he is. I'll keep you posted when and if I change my mind -- AGAIN.

We're off to the Botanical Gardens this morning. The Butterfly Exhibit here is the best I have ever seen. Thousands! It's so cool. We're bringing a picnic lunch, too. And trying to hide the chocolate so we can make it last more than 36 hours.

Balance

Happy Vernal Equinox! I love, love, love Spring. Two of our three children were born in springtime, and our anniversary falls during the heart of Spring.

A few years back, I joined a dear friend's birthday celebration in Hume, Virginia, near the Blue Ridge in Virginia's wine country. The landscape and flowers and baby lambs (seriously) were all so fresh and beautiful, I was literally brought to tears driving out there from our home in Richmond.

It is --another -- bright and beautiful morning out here in the high desert. Even in the bad, brown desert, Spring is beautiful. We actually have flowers bloom throughout April, and we had enough rain this past Winter that the bushes and cactuses in the wash behind our house are bright green.

Indeed, rebirth and renewal is the good news of our lives. Whatever your beliefs or background, Spring is a miracle. So grab your Claritin, and get out and enjoy.

Material Girl

Baby Girl and I went shopping yesterday, primarily to find her a pretty and suitable dress for my brother's wedding next week. There was some Strasburg on-sale, but the only obviously non-Christmas dresses were black velvet with red trim on the collar and sash. Black. On children, especially babies. It's just so....somber and wrong. She looked like a tiny, mostly bald, nun. So weird looking. We went with a darling smocked bishop, light pink, with small seed pearls since this is a fancy occasion.

After we finished our priority-shopping, we browsed around the mall. Baby Girl and I found some darling baby Mary Jane shoes that were soft and pretty and fit her freakishly small size 2 feet. I don't really care for those baby leather slipper things, and these have just enough shape (though are still squishy). Our big mall in the arid Southwest has just added a Carolina Herrera boutique and a Jimmy Choo boutique. OMG. Love it. Love it all. Now I need a bigger wallet. Or less guilt. That Choo Ramona bag? So, so pretty. And, honestly, a tiny bit unnecessary for a woman whose current bag is loaded with dust and crumbs, a random pecan in its shell (?), my sons' velcro wallets in CAMO and FLAMES decor; her own Vera Bradely wallet, a changing pad, sensitive wipes, dipes; crayons and pens; one lip gloss and one lip stick that go with everything; cell phone which hopefully has enough charge; a hair elastic and two hair pins; a change of training pants (3 YO Boy has been trained for 15 mos, so....those are old)

So....do you think those e-bay deals where the bags are reported to be 'authentic' yet are about 20% of the retail price is a bunch of hooey? I'm kind of just wondering.

My Kindergartener starts Spring Break at noon tomorrow. We need to do haircuts, and then a photo-op with the Easter Bunny. We'll be seeing my entire extended family for my brother's wedding a week from Easter. He's (my brother) been driving me a bit crazy. He wants my sons (5YO Boy is his godson) to be ring bearers, and his bride is going to pass out and die unless these sweet, sweet children wear tuxedos. I'll wait. Are you done dry-heaving? It still occasionally overcomes me, too. Little boys in tuxedos? Totally ridiculous. All I hear about is how factor X of this wedding is going to be 'SO sophisticated!' or 'fabulous', and I am trying hard to stop rolling my eyes. Trust me, this whole thing is a big circus, and showing off their stuff seems to be what this couple enjoys doing. Maybe I used to be like that, too. Maybe I was a little Bridezilla 9 years back when we were married back home in Georgia. Then again, Husby and I gave out BBQ sauce from Fat Matt's Rib Shack in Atlanta as wedding favors (because YUM! more beloved than hard almonds!) and other than that we basically did whatever my mother wanted to do.

Must run, friends, and pull everyone together for the day. I'll keep you updated through the Wedding Countdown. I am praying for an Easter Miracle that the little black tuxedos will not be ready on wedding day, and the buddies will actually have to wear their precious and very handsome Easter clothes from the previous week, instead.

It's A Saturday....

I fell asleep last night at 8:07pm. Delicious. And disheartening. Friday nights used to be all about celebration and carousing and eating yummy foods, friends, the one you love, and welcoming the weekend. Good times.

I awoke this morning refreshed, around 5:45am, and I stole away to the kitchen to make coffee, and sneak outside to the back porch. To watch the sunrise. Like they talk about it commercials and TV-Land. Where women go and have silence and caffeine, unto themselves. I was pretty excited to start my weekend at 5:45am with peace and goodwill. The birds even started chirping.

Enter sleepy-bedhead boys staring at me through the windown, approximately 6:06. WTF. How do they sense my state of consciousness?! How do they know the sun is just eeeking the faintest softest white light behind the mountains in our backyard?! Are they wild animals? I think yes! So they of course had to come out and sit with (on) me. And they were good and quiet for a few minutes. We listened for sounds: a birdie, the neighbor's pool drain, an airplane, the wind....."your stomach", said one to the other.

Enter Daddy and Baby Girl approximately 6:17. For being the introverted quiet one, that man could not sit still. Got up to put on more clothes. Got up to fetch a blanket. Kept telling boys to stop squirming. (Everyone please go inside....). Got up to hand Baby Girl to me. Noted whom Baby Girl was watching. Boys gew more and more restless. Just before 7am we came in. The big sun wasn't QUITE up at 6:50, but that was going to have to do.

Boys asked for toast. And cereal. And oatmeal. And berries. They got cereal, and some of my toast. They finger painted milk all over the kitchen table. They cleared their bowls and proceeded to fight over ONE coloring book. The whining one got sent to sit in the bathroom. Twice. Daddy asked the start-time of a Saturday birthday party, asking if he could just stay home alone? Sorry, buddy. I need to go to the store for dipes, wipes, etc., and we can't leave both boys 5 and 3 without some help. Do your job, man. Daddy offered maybe the boys could go get haircuts NEXT Friday. They already look like ridiculous copies of kids from 1977, since we normally do haircuts the first of the month. And there will be NO photos with the Easter Bunny until the hair is cut. And by god, I'll take them today to the local kiddie salon, which he thinks does a so-so job, unless Daddy gets going with them and his beloved barber. Daddy left, and went alone to the bedroom for a shower.

I just caught sight of my hair sticking out everywhere, my face still smooshed from the pillow, as I was taking screeching Baby Girl to change her stinky pants and get her dressed.

We need to buy this birthday kid a gift prior to the start of the big party, too, and the boys needs to get dressed and pulled together. And wow, maybe I need to do the same! Nice idea... The sun has officially been up now for an hour. It's shining on my back and reflecting around the screen of the computer. My coffee is cold, but the the sun is warm. So much work to get that thing up everyday :).

The Confessions of A Musing Mama

We of the Amusing Household are Catholics. The husby and I were Born and Raised, attending Catholic schools for almost the entirety of our educations; he chose a big State college, and I attended a Protestant private school 9th-12th somewhere deep in the South. But otherwise, we matriculated through Catholic institutions, which were positive, even life changing, experiences for each of us.

Our children are all baptized. We attend Mass nearly every Sunday. We practice our faith in the Christian, specifically Catholic, tradition. I love my faith. My education and formation and practice of the faith I think makes me a more thoughtful, grateful person. Which is good for everyone.

I say all this not to demonstrate that we are the most Orthodox religious people on the planet. Far, far from it. Really far. Really. Rather, our lifetimes of faith (so far) have brought us to wider understandings of God, the spiritual, the numinous, the great and mysterious point of it all. Which I happen to believe comes down to love -- 'love, baby, love, that's the secret...' -- and it's as simple and complex as that.

And, so, we have begun the Catholic education of the Babies. Kindergarten Boy started last August in a fantastic Catholic elementary school here in the Southwest. We looked around at a few alternatives, and this particular place not only had the academic success and strong credentials, and after-school activities, and cutie-pie celebrations, and word-of-mouth favoritism. It had that something extra, that nameless thing, that you only 'know when you see.' You know that thing (aren't I eloquent)? At Notre Dame, it's called 'mystique'. It's like that. When the community is strong, and caring. Something....this school had IT. And the place had a spectacular leader, a Sister religious, who greeted us every morning when we walked through the gates, and who threw away my lunch garbage, when the other two babies and I met Kindergarten Boy for hot-lunch in the cafeteria one Fall afternoon. In my years of working for the Corporate Man, I did learn that leadership is (almost) everything. The place of course was not perfect, but I was hard pressed to find anything better in this town, or most other towns. This place is very special, and places like this don't come along too often. We were thrilled to 1) get-in to the school and 2) be a part of all of it.

Around the same time the school year started, so did a brand new parish pastor. We do not belong to the school's parish, mostly because the we enjoy the quiet location and liturgy of our 'home' parish. It's our choice, and we pay a slightly higher tuition rate accordingly. Probably later, we'll need to change to align our Mass attendance with our children's first sacraments (Eucharist, Penance, etc.). All in good time.

The word from our friends, and others whom we know, like and respect was that this new pastor was ultra-Traditional, bringing with him daily Latin Mass (the Tridentine rite as opposed to the 'Novus Ordo' that most of us other Catholics younger than 40 only know). Ok.... Whatever. It's a part of the Catholic tradition. Fine. He required a change to the students' Religion textbooks. Whatever. It's his choice (hopefully with the school's educator and administrators' experience weighing in?). Again, fine. And then, our friendly parishioners were telling us about homilies and classroom visits sharing the insightful news that only true, rule-according (whatever that is) Catholics are saved. Implying what exactly? The rest of the Universe is damned to Hell? Uhhh....wha? Seriously? No, SERIOUSLY?!! You have got to be kidding me.

Come January, the leader of the school -- the fantastic, dedicated, kind and generous, award-winning Sister -- was fired. The Diocese came forth about two weeks later (gotta love the speed guys) stating 'no misconduct' but would comment no further due to employer-employee blah-blah-blabity-blah. Stupid Catholic Church organization. They create a lot of their own trouble. The official reason was that the Principal's and the new pastor's "vision of Catholic education" were not compatible. Christ. A Sister wasnt Catholic enough.

To save you the gory details, in sum, the school's families were ballistic. And still are. Oh, and Sister Principal was hired for the next school year by the parish school 25 blocks down the road. WTF. W. T. F. I have taken to calling this little parish pastor dumb-shit leader Pastor Disaster. Disaster is right. Ugly. There are factions now between families. Some "good Catholics" are now speaking out against the "bad Catholics"....however that line might be drawn. Many have stopped attending the parish altogether. Many are removing their children from the school. And others are more conservatively 'waiting-and-seeing'.

Catholic school contracts are due. And the question for us is to stay with the place, hoping the goodness will re-emerge or is still actually there. Or to send the future First Grade Boy to the less-academically hyped neighboring school where Sister Principal will be leading next August. What happened to the Something? Where will we find it? And what about the disruption to Kindergarten Boy's life?

This whole Disaster has made me emotional and angry. And more distrustful of the Church and its leadership, from the Pope on down. I have always been wary of the hierarchy and frankly patriarchy of the Catholic Church. But is this what it's supposed to be all about? Rules? Power? Obedience, to what exactly? Is this what I am suppposed to be getting out of my encounters with clergy and the sacraments? Anger? Are they trying for guilt? Control?

What's love got to do with any of that.

Greeting

I should begin with an introduction. I really like reading other people's '100 Things' and random internet Q&A tags, but...I have tried to do that 100 Things, and I don't have the patience for finishing it. Too many distractions and interruptions in this house.

I have chosen to start writing in a blog because I have too much swirling around in my head. Not crazy-like. Just lots of thoughts (how to raise happy children without them being the death of my mental stability); ideas (MUST finish our family room and kitchen...it still looks like a warehouse two years after we moved here); rants (oh yes, I love to rant, with my mother especially, but honestly I am careful with whom I rant....I sort-of-kind-of try to give folks the benefit of the doubt and I don't really care to offend others. Unless they start it. Then we have a fair game.)

Having grown up in the Southeast, my style tends to be a more conservative. I like children to look (and behave!) like children, rather than Little Adults. Hi there, Clueless Hollywood Starlets! I like my hair not to become tooooo (I am a realist) far a cry from its intended color. I have also moved around this blessed country many times (13), to many places (east, west, north, south, middle), worked with, have been neighbors with, and met all kinds of people, and I can honestly say there is not one place I have not (sometimes evennnnnntually) embraced and enjoyed. I like many types of people with all manner of sensibilities. I like to learn about them, and I appreciate who they are. On the other hand, I don't have a lot of patience for terribly insecure folks with lots of issues. Especially when said issues impact others negatively.

My hands-down favorite place I have lived is a perfect, breathtaking small town in Northern California. An actual Garden of Eden, swathed in lavender, eucalyptus, California bay, and many many grapevines. I'd go back there in a second to live and raise this family.

My little family includes Working-for-the-Man Daddy. Work at his corporate-America gig is a dirty whore, and I hate her for the time she demands (and no one's fooling me if they think going out to big fancy work dinnners is SUCH A CHORE compared with feeding, bathing and putting down 3 babes), but the money is a means to an end: to live the way we care to live, to help those we care to help, in ways we prefer. We also are blessed with the three babies. Kindergarten Boy, 5; Preschool Boy 3; and squishy, smily, occasionally screamy Baby Girl 9 mos. My parents still live back in the Southeast, and my husband's family still lives in the Midwest. And I worked the Corporate Gig (soul-numbing, yet the back-patting and getting-to-be-smart-and-competent is addictive) for over a decade post-college, and now I stay home/ drive the family Volvo wagon full time in our latest locale -- the arid Southwest.

My husby often looks at me and declares: 'Crazy.' But you know what? He loves it. I love it, and I'd be lost without it: the noise, the kids, their weird jokes, our family meals, the passion and all the moments of overwhelming joy. Feel free to join me, introduce yourself, too, and play nice with my family, friends and me.....otherwise, See Paragraph Two.

Blog blog bloggity blog....