The Last First Communion

One of the most memorable homilies I ever heard was the one given by Father P. for Tali and Josie's First Communion.  It was at our local church attached to the Catholic School they attended at the time in Virginia.

Father P. attended Mount Saint Mary's Seminary in Emmitsburg, Md.  As MSM College (now University) is my Alma Mater, I was already a fan.  After the sermon he gave for the First Communion masses, I was even more impressed.

He spoke about a sign on the sacristy wall of the St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Basilica. It says, "Priest of God, celebrate this Mass as if it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass."  He modified it to speak of receiving Holy Communion.  He told the kids they should "Receive every Holy Communion as if it is your First Holy Communion, your Last Holy Communion, your Only Holy Communion."  I thought it was such a poignant idea.  Many times, the Eucharist becomes such a habit, we just take it for granted and don't use the reverence we should.

Fast forward seven years.  Sawyer was in 2nd grade for the second year in a row. Having a Special Needs child can be overwhelming at times.  Although Sawyer is very high functioning, his autism demands additional needs; for example, IEP meetings, behavior therapy in the home, feeding clinic appointments, and the day to day struggle of trying not to meltdown when it is inappropriate.  Take sports for instance.  Sawyer knows that boys his age are not supposed to cry when they strike out, but the frustration of not performing is overwhelming and he loses it. He knows that his peers don't have a problem with loud and rowdy kids in the school cafeteria, but the over stimulation of many noises (in this case, voices) coming from several directions causes him to lose his ability to do anything besides curl up in a ball and hold his hands over his ears.

Last year, Sawyer and I attended the first two CCD classes with the Communion group.  There were about 20 kids and one teacher.  As I have to accompany Sawyer to most activities, it was mistakenly thought that I would be the aide as I would be there anyway.  Uhhhh, it doesn't work that way.  When Sawyer is in full meltdown mode, I can do nothing but deal with Sawyer.  And even when there is not nuclear combustion going on, I really need to focus on him.  Needless to say, I pulled him and we "homeschooled" CCD.  Homeschooling CCD meant walking the other kids to the church for classes and finding an empty classroom to watch a Bible Video.  I found a series which had a quiz at the end, so I could trick myself into believing he was actually learning something.

When we moved East and Sawyer was in 2nd grade again, I was assured there were at least three 2nd grade CCD classes.  I was thankful for the small class size and felt much more confident about his "Sacramental Year."  When we arrived for the first class, I was told the three teachers had decided to join forces and teach one big class.  You can imagine my delight at such a prospect.  But, I was assured that there were three teachers and at least three aides with the 30-40 kids in the class.  More importantly, no one was expecting me to do anything, but sit with Sawyer. That, I was relatively sure I could do.

We attended the majority of classes and on occasion, Sawyer actually participated.  When it was time to recite his prayers to ensure he knew them, we played fill in the blank.   "Our _____, who ___ in _______," You get the idea.  I had spoken with the Priest, actually two of them at our new Parish and was assured it would be okay.  I wasn't sure he'd be able to receive his Sacraments at all, but one priest remarked that sometimes Special Needs kids are almost more deserving of Grace from The Lord.  I was feeling pretty good.

And then it was time for Confession.  Kids typically make their First Confession several weeks before their First Communion.  We went to classes and we practiced.  We made a cheat sheet with the class and practiced.  We said our prayers and we practiced.  The big day came....and went.  He did not want to go when his class was going.  As I had already experienced taking a teary eyed and terrified child (Josie) to her First Confession while all the parents and the entire 2nd grade class watched, I was not anxious to do it again.  I had already spoken with the Priest about doing it quietly in his office some day.  And that's exactly what we did.  Sawyer was not overly responsive and didn't say hardly anything, but Father W. took a very smart approach and asked Sawyer a series of "yes" or "no" questions so Sauce could nod or shake his head to own up to any of his sins.  If there were any off the beaten track sins, they were grouped in with the others.  I'm certain that God had it covered.  For the record:  I was to keep my eyes closed as Sawyer was sitting on my lap.  I may or may not have peeked just a bit.

As we were leaving, I asked the Priest if he would tell the Religious Ed Director that Sawyer had indeed made his First Confession as he would not be able to take Communion until the former was done.  He smiled and said, "No."  I was like, "Whatdya mean 'no?' You're kidding right?"  He shook his head. "A Priest cannot tell anyone who has gone to confession."  I'm thinking, Seriously?  I coulda lied and no one would have ever.....shoot, never-mind.

We got over the precursor hurdle and suddenly it was the week of Josie's Confirmation and Sawyer's First Communion, because the Catholic Church is all about cramming in these two Sacraments before Matrimony season starts.  Poor Josie got next to no fanfare for her Thursday night event. Not only was she one of just a couple 9th graders getting Confirmed (because in Pennsylvania they Confirm in 8th grade and in Kansas they Confirm in 9th), but Sawyer's possible Communion was sucking up all my energy and anxiety.

The Big Day arrived.  May 9th, 2015.  I remember thinking as I woke up, this could really go either way.  In fact, I could think of about 107 scenarios of the day playing out with only a handful of them not being horrific.  Sawyer was certainly not willing to try on any clothes the weeks or even the night before.  I was measuring pants against the jeans he wore to school that week and shirts against the long sleeve Minecraft T-shirts that he donned on a daily basis.  By the grace of God, I was able to get him dressed and everything fit relatively well.  He did remind me, "I hate shirts with buttons." and "I will NOT wear a tie!"  Eventually, we left the house with him in khakis, a button-down shirt, clip-on tie, navy blazer, dark socks and loafers. I don't even attempt this much formality at a family wedding.  He was not happy, but surprisingly calm.

It was set up so the First Communicants would process in, making a full lap around the pews so parents and relatives could snap pictures at every possible camera angle before the kids made their way down the main aisle once again and sat in the first several pews of the church.  It took about 6.2 seconds for Sawyer to determine at rehearsal that he was having none of this parading around business. Not. Doing. It.  That was more than fine with me.  As far as I was concerned that meant less could go wrong. The Religious Education Director had a few pews set aside for kids that would do better sitting with their families.  We were in one of those pews.  However, even though Sawyer wasn't processing in, we still had to be there quite early.  Waiting, as you can imagine, especially for something that he is nervous about, is not Sawyer's forte.  Add in my four other kids whose seating arrangements required for maximum good behavior could be an SAT question (The Carlton's are going to sit together in church.  B Cha must sit on an end.  Lyra cannot sit next to B Cha or Tali.  Josie must sit on an end...) add in other family members and dynamics and we were a puddle of gas praying no one close by needed a smoke!

FINALLY, church began and the kids started their march down the aisle.  You could definitely pick out the future attention seeking brides vs the ones that would rather arrive at the alter in the middle of a ring of bridesmaids.  There were a handful of extremely prayerful young men...and the other 37 were a caricature of 8 year old boys whose Mothers had just spit on a tissue attempting to clean the chocolate pop tart off their face.

Mass was progressing along with only peppered interruptions from Sawyer, who inquired regularly on any updates re: Eastern Standard Time, while in turn providing notifications re: hunger, starvation, and impending dehydration. He had lost the sports coat at some point, but I didn't even notice until he looked at me with a rage that would've made Linda Blair shake and said, "I. Said. No. Ties."  It
required ever fiber of my being to not look back at him like a crazy woman and respond, "And. I. Said. No. Wire. Hangers."  True story.

The moment of truth arrived.  All the "neuro-typical" kids went to the alter and received the Body of Christ.  It was our turn.  I walked up the aisle on Sawyer's right side, and everything slurred together. We made it to the alter, the wonderful priest smiled at me, his eyes twinkling, I'm sure the suspense was killing him too.  I put my hands out and Sawyer mimicked me.  Father W. said, "The Body of Christ."  And I THINK Sawyer responded "Amen," but to be honest he could have said, "And also with you," and I wouldn't have noticed.  He took the host and placed it in his mouth!  Did you get that?  HE TOOK THE HOST AND PLACED IT IN HIS MOUTH!  If you are not Catholic, it is important to understand that when we, as Catholics, receive communion, we believe it to be the actual Body of Christ.  This is a huge deal and him going through with it, was enough for me to hear a chorus of angels singing the Easter Alleluia as I walked back to the pew. Tears, real tears were streaming down my cheeks.  A Momma could not have ever been prouder.

We knelt after communion and I praised God and thanked Jesus for getting both of us through this.  I was interrupted from my worship when Sawyer grabbed my arm in a strangle hold.  I looked at him, "What?"  He had a very strange look on his face and he started to open his mouth several times.  He pointed at his mouth. Like a properly trained mother, I obeyed and cupped my hand under his chin. What happened next was beyond any of those 107 scenarios I had feared.  He spit the well chewed wafer into my hand!  I was stunned and in shock for a good 19 seconds, before I pulled my hand back to examine the contents.  

Praying that he had somehow swallowed the host before ingesting and depositing a chewed up peanut butter cracker in my palm, I gazed down.  I will spare you the gory details, but what I was holding was no mystery.  I said, "Sawyer!  Whaaaa?" He looked at me blankly and said, "I have to go to the bathroom."  The noise that came from me must have been odd.  Josie looked over Sawyer's head and gave me a questioning look.  I turned my wrist slightly so she could see what I was holding while not spilling any of the puddle.  Her face contorted as she mentally put the pieces together of what could possibly be in my hand.  I now know exactly what the person who came up with the light bulb going off scenario was talking about.  I believe I saw a spark fire out of her ear.  She turned to Lyra and the whispers went westward down the pew.  As each child heard the news they looked at me with a "Say it ain't so Momma!" glance that I could only return with a small lift of my right hand.  Keep in mind that the families and friends of all the Communicants were still coming up the aisle, meaning, I could not leave my seat. As friends tapped me on the shoulder to wave or whisper "Hi" as they walked by, I plastered on a smile worthy of wedding photos.  Also, I kept my right hand out of view.

Hours (or possibly just a few minutes) later, as the last attendee passed, I grabbed Sawyer and said, "Let's go."  We walked up the aisle to the narthex and the bathrooms.  One of the CCD teachers was at the doorway and was so excited, "He did it!"  I reluctantly showed her my hand and I think she threw up in her mouth a little before saying, "Well, Momma, it's time to take one for the team."  I whimpered, "I have to don't I?"  Her nod was clear.  I nudged Sawyer into the Men's room and I went into the Ladies.  Again, if you are not Catholic, you must understand desecration of the host is a mortal sin.  It is akin to desecrating the body of Jesus.  The only option I had was ingesting the host myself.  I did.  I shall spare us both the details of that experience.

Please know, that this was a very pivotal moment for me as a Catholic.  Seriously. I briefly debated the alternatives before recognizing that I had no doubt what I needed to do.  It was not enjoyable.  Perhaps saying that is a sin, I hope not.  But I am happy with the decision I made.  There was no time to second guess myself as I now needed to get Sawyer back down to our pew before mass ended.  I'm not sure why that was so important at the moment, but it was.

I cracked the door of the Men's room and said, "Sauce?"  A booming voice (which did NOT belong to my eight year old son) came back, "Someone's in here!"  I enlisted the help of a teenage boy we knew.  I begged him to go in and see what was up.  He came out smiling and said, "He couldn't undo his belt."  Are you kidding me?  I had gone through an entire examination of my conscience and discernment of my faith and he hadn't gone to the bathroom yet?!?  Unbelievable.  I waited, suddenly having an inkling of what purgatory must feel like, until he came out, shirt untucked belt unbuckled, pants 1/2 way zipped.  I put him back together a la Clark Kent into Superman and rushed him down the aisle.  As we sat down the Priest and Clergy stood to process out.  Phew.

I vaguely remember walking to the parish activity center and the beginnings of a reception.  Sawyer wanted nothing to do with the crowd and honestly, neither did I.  I did chug a glass of punch though.

Five weeks have passed since that fateful Saturday.  Each week I have Sawyer walk down the aisle next to me.  Each week we arrive at the Priest and he gives Sawyer a "What'll it be?" look.  And each week so far, Sawyer has given the slightest shake of his head.  The Priest tells me not to worry.  I should continue to bring him up each week and someday he will Receive.  It may be the 27th time, it may be the 87th, it may even be the 147th, but it is important to give him the chance.

I don't know how long it will take.  Only God knows that.  And perhaps Sawyer.  In the meantime, I tell myself it is okay because Sawyer did Receive his First Holy Communion as if it was his First Holy Communion, His Last Holy Communion, His Only Holy Communion.


Editors note:  Today, December 5, 2015 marks the 30th week since Sawyer's First Holy Communion.  He has yet to take the host again.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

We made it to mass on time last Saturday.  Really. It was amazing.  I got to give B Cha a kiss on the head before he carried one of the large candles down the aisle and I got to hear Tali and the choir sing the opening song.  A rare event indeed. 

I would like to blame our recurring lateness on Sawyer dragging his feet, but it's pretty much my chronic tardiness that causes it.  Perhaps because I don't allow enough time to get a begrudging Sawyer ready.

But Saturday, this past Saturday, we were golden.  Sawyer's therapist, who comes with us to mass most weeks, had bought him a new activity book to work on.  He was sitting in the pew so content, so quiet, that I really thought it was going to be a good night.

Shortly after the opening prayer, the priest announced that he would be doing something different than the Penitential Act which is usually one of the first prayers.  "I confess to Almighty God..."

Although my father had no idea when I was relaying this story to him, Wikipedia actually knew what I was talking about:

"On Sundays, especially in the Season of Easter, in place of the customary Penitential Act, from time to time the Blessing and Sprinkling of Water to recall Baptism may take place."^[4]

This may have had something to do with the fact that I was telling him the Priest was going to do a different "penitentiary act" which would perhaps make sense since we live at Ft. Leavenworth.

Regardless, what the Priest was going to do was sprinkle the congregation with Holy Water.  This may not seem like it is worth mentioning, no big deal, except it is a big deal when you have a child with Autism.  A VERY big deal!  The last time the Holy Water was brought out was around Christmas perhaps...honestly I don't remember, but I remember the panic that rose in my chest when the Priest (who is new) and the Deacon (who knows us well) reached the end of the main aisle and turned to walk around the back and up the side aisles. 

+++Authors Note: We sit on the left side of the aisle (which in itself is still odd to me because growing up my family always, ALWAYS sat on the right and it wasn't until a particularly difficult Mass which left me in tears during Charlie's first deployment from here about 5 years ago, that I abandoned my long standing rule and moved left to sit behind my good friend for support.) Now we sit on the far left side of the left side of the church, near the back.   This makes for easy escapes with Sawyer and minimal distractions to anyone behind us as there is certainly plenty of room in front of us if they would rather not watch my children spiral into a fist fight during the Kiss of Peace.+++

Back to the story at hand: The last Holy Water event, had Deacon on our side of the church.  So when he rounded the back corner and started up the side aisle, all I had to do was look at him with fear in my eyes and give a slight shake of my head.  He immediately "got it" and adjusted his flick of the
aspergillum (yes, I looked it up) so that Sawyer did not get wet at all.  I realize this is not the intended result of the ceremony, but believe me when I say, it was best for everyone involved.

Our current Priest has only been her a few months and while he knows that Sawyer has Autism, I'm not sure he knows Sawyer well enough to be able to anticipate his reactions.  So when he was the only one sprinkling the water I foolishly assumed that he certainly wouldn't take the time to go ALL THE WAY around the church.  (We only have an hour)  I was mistaken.  As he turned the back corner and started our way, I knew that bulging my eyes out would not convey to him the message, "Please, I beg of you, don't get Sawyer wet, it could take the rest of mass to recover from that.  Plus, he's got a brand new book and if you get that wet he is liable to throw it at you, or me, and never touch it again and I know his therapist just spent a significant amount of money on it."  Unfortunately, the universal sign of STOP, a swift swipe of my hand across my throat did not seem appropriate for the environment.

The water flew in slow motion.  I swear I could see the droplets in the air as the headed for and landed on Sawyer, his head, his neck, his brand new book open to a crisp white page which now smudged the circle he just made.  My heart stopped.  I braced myself for the scream...which didn't come.  (Thank you God, You are so good to me.)

But the Priest had not moved on, he was smiling at the back of Sawyer's head, he could not see the look I was getting with eyes full of Satan himself.  I saw his hand go back into the aspersorium (I looked that one up too) and he showered us a second time!  A SECOND TIME!  Father had a big smile on his face obviously oblivious to the possible outcomes of such a scenario.  This apparently struck the people behind us, who were visiting, as funny too.  "Well, he's reading a book.  Father is just trying to make him pay attention."

Deep breath.  And again.  Sawyer was annoyed.  A bit angry even. (Completely understandable in my opinion) But thankfully, not furious. We had dodged a pretty large bullet...actually, many many tiny ones, but we were good.  Everyone survived, Sawyer's book was still usable in his eyes, and all was relatively well with the world.

I spent the next 10 minutes of mass trying to deal with my conflicting feelings of how do you celebrate Mass and be a good person when you are angry with the Priest saying Mass?  I could get over the initial sprinkling, but I felt that the second round was mearly for his amusement which is really not fair. 

The discussion I was having with God in my head was so intense at one point that it took me a moment to realize that while Tali and the choir were singing the responsorial psalm, the sound system went haywire and there was a horrible screeching noise coming through the speakers.  Mother of the year did not even think immediately of Sawyer's ears.  I was thinking more about how loud it was for Tali on the alter and how quickly it was giving me a headache.  As the Priest bend down and unplugged something that stopped the unbelievable noise, I suddenly thought of Sawyer.  He had his head down, was covering his ears, and his face was contorted to a level of pain rarely seen on someone who isn't bleeding profusely.

Thankfully, his therapist snatched him up and got him out of there.  I listened for the screams, but heard none.  Apparently, the whole chain of events was such that he could muster was whimpering and shaking.  He spent the rest of the Mass in the narthex (That one I knew on my own!). 

I have to trust that God knows that I do my best to get him there, and to keep him there.  And some days are just better than others.

End note:  It was later in the Mass that I had looked into the narthex and saw that Sawyer was calmed down for the most part.  I walked back to the pew to see B Cha lifting the large book off the alter for the Priest to read from.  As he stood, holding the book in front of him, the Priest looked a bit confused.  It was then that the Deacon walked over and turned the book rightside up. 

And there was God's answer:  We all make mistakes! 

Just 1 of 400 Days

Saturday, September 28, 2013

It began at 6:52am when I opened one eyeball to see Tali descending from the third floor in her volleyball uniform.  She needed to arrive at school before 7:45 to leave for a tournament and I was relieved to see that, in true Tali fashion, she’d gotten herself up and was in no need of any assistance from me except a ride to the Junior High.  I happily closed my eye and immediately went back to sleep until 7:23. 

We really didn’t have to leave until 7:37 and I had no intention of doing anything but donning a sweatshirt and sliding on my Merrill’s before walking out the door.  At a minimum, at this point, I still had a good 10 minutes to listen to silence when I heard the thumps up the stairs.

“Mom, the game is not cancelled!”

I watch my 10 minutes slide down the drain like cold gravy.  I attempt a smile. “Happy Birthday my boy!”

“Thanks Mom, the game is not cancelled.  I checked the inbox and there is no message from the coach. ”

He’s referring to his first flag football game of the season which was scheduled for 10am.  It’s very exciting to have a sporting event on one’s birthday…especially, the first of the season!

“Charlie, it’s still early.  They probably won’t make a call about the weather until 8.  Let me see what my phone says.”

My phone is showing Kansas City weather from yesterday afternoon and is refusing to update.  I go to check email see it hasn’t updated since late yesterday.  How dare these technical conveniences get in the way of my laziness!

I call the weather hotline:

“Hello.  You have reached the Fort Leavenworth Youth Sports Weather Hotline.  Today is Tuesday, September 24.  As of today as youth sports and activities will go on as scheduled……”

Well that helps!  I turn the phone off and remove the battery and explain to Charlie that if it rained last night and is still raining, there is a REALLY GOOD chance his game will be cancelled.  Regardless, he is happier than a camel on Wednesday and there is no talking him down.

I roll out of bed, put on a sweatshirt, shoes, grab the keys and take Tali to school.  It’s raining.  Not just spitting or drizzling, but raining.  Crud!

Once home, I crawl back into bed and check my phone.  New email.  The game has been postponed until Monday.

“Charlie!  Come upstairs…..”

It was ugly.  Tears, rage, whimpers; the situation was grave.  I finally got him to stop crying and crawl into bed with me.  (Happiness is having a crying child come and get in bed with you so you don’t have to get out of bed to comfort them)  It took a bit, but I got him to stop crying and think about the two parties he was attending that afternoon.

Since the football game was cancelled, I was then open to attend Tali’s volleyball tournament.  I eventually dragged myself into the shower and got dressed.  Because it was the final tournament of the season, I decided to bring the video camera to get some footage to send to her Dad.  That was a twenty-seven minute exercise in figuring out what disc was in the camera, finalizing it, finding a Sharpie to mark it (because the last time I was desperate for a Sharpie I took it from the video camera bag), and plugging in the camera to get a full charge.

Josie had spent the night with a friend so I had to pick her up and bring her home to stay with the little ones.  No one having the slightest interest in going to cheer their sister on = Alone time for Momma!  I was not going to try to persuade them to come along.

Charlie had not even started on his book report that was due Monday, nor did he have the instruction sheet on how to do it.  That added thirteen minutes for a phone call to a friend who made a copy of the sheet and sent her husband over to the house with it. 

The plan was this:  the kids would clean up, Charlie would work on his book report with Josie’s help and all would be right with the world.

My plan to leave at 9:30 turning into a 10:45 reality was the first indication of how the day would pan out.

The tournament which was in “the next town” was 45-50 minutes away.  How did I forget I live in Kansas?  It was like Laura Ingles thinking Pa could run to the Quick Mart for a ½ gallon of milk.  Not so fast Half-Pint!

The rain continued to pour as I drove down some country “highway” which occasionally would go from one to two lanes so cars could safely pass the tractors.  After covering much of Lewis & Clark’s trail, I got to the town “right up the road,” and found the high school.  I arrived to see the last of the first four matches and then they broke for lunch.  Figures!

I did get the camera set up and was able to tape a bit.  Unfortunately, Tali was very off today.  It happens.  I just wish it didn’t happen the one time I had the video camera with me.  Regardless, she is still recovering from a head cold and I swear her balance was off. 

During lunch I decided to see how things are going at home. (Excuse me while I make a mental note)

*Note to self:  If you are away from home and no one is calling from that location to report a fire, a murder, or make a request for medical insurance information before treating a patient, do not, I repeat DO NOT voluntarily call the dwelling.  I’m serious. Resist the urge!   You think I’m kidding, I know.  But seriously, DON’T!  I mean it!

It’s hard to say exactly how or what went wrong and when it did, but let’s just say that the amount of crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth was apocalyptic.  There was nothing I could do about this book report when I had never read the book and I was 30+ miles away.

This is the point at which a mother must pick her battles.  It is not fair to burden the older child with a younger child who cannot and/or will not focus.  Especially if the older child is one who will blame herself for her brother’s failures!

The people lucky enough to be in this rural high school cafeteria in earshot of my phone call heard something like this:

“Charlie, calm down and listen to me……..Charlie……Charlie………….Charlieeeeee!  Listen.  If you can’t do the report that’s….Charlie?  Are you breathing?  Listen. To. Me.  Breathe.  Get yourself together and you can go to your friend’s house.  But here’s the deal,…..  Charlie?  Get a Kleenex……… (3 minutes of silence from me as I listen to banging and scratching against the phone)….Okay are you back?  Go get yourself dressed and ask one of your sisters to walk you to Lachlan’s* house.  BUT….are you listening?  We are spending the day tomorrow working on the book report.  You may not watch TV; you may not go to your classmates’ birthday party at the horse farm, no Kindle, no Wii, no computer.  Got it?  Charlie?  Got it?  Okay, just making sure.  Yes, I love you too!”

*The name of Charlie’s friend has been changed in order to protect the innocent. Also, he's Australian so I picked the Australian-ist name I could find!

Tali’s team should have won the last of their games with no problem.  Unfortunately, there was a problem…it’s called girls can be so annoying.  Some of the girls were criticizing the others for not playing well and then the tears started.  (Her volleyball team is a blog post or two in itself)  Thankfully, Tali does not let herself get caught up in that garbage.  I try not to be one of “those psycho sports moms” but I get very caught up in the game and I want them to win if they can.  I used to be a cheerleader, what can I say?

The drive home consisted of an explanation of the drama that was occurring on the court, then pretty much silence.  We were both very bummed.

Charlie called to say that no one would walk him to Lachlan’s house so he could get a ride to another friends’ birthday party.  That was another 10 minutes of tears until I got Josie on the phone and she agreed to walk him. Josie got Charlie to Lachlan’s house and Lachlan’s parents got Charlie to the birthday party.

Lachlan’s parents were having people over to watch the Australian Rules Football finals.  I really don’t know what that means, but I knew that alcohol was involved.  I threw together a 7 layer dip, got Sawyer dressed and got over there as soon as I could.  The place was full of Aussie’s which makes me happy because I love to listen to them talk.  I usually only get every 2^nd or 3^rd word, but after a few drinks it somehow become easier to understand them.  I had no clue what was going on with the game, but when my friend cheered, I cheered!

After only one beer, I found myself joining in the conversation saying things such as:

“Crikey mate!  Did you see that bloke?  What a bludger!”

and 

“Aerial pingpong is quite the bottler, eh?”

Sawyer likes to play at their house because they have Electronic Battleship.  We had a few tears when two of the kids wanted to play with him.  One little girl said, “I know ‘im, that’s Sawyer.  He cries a bit at school.”  

Although it sounded adorable, all I could think was, “Great, even the International kids think he’s weird!”  Anyway, we got the girls to do something else and Sawyer was fine until a 2yr old British boy became intrigued with Sawyer’s game.  He just wanted to play.  The Dad and I tried to run interference, but he was quick.  Sawyer got to the point where the kid would get within 5 feet of the game and Sauce would just fall over and start crying.  Fun times!

Charlie and his friend got a ride back to the house where Sawyer and I were.  All the boys went outside to toss some odd looking ball around and get dirty.  I had a few moments of peace and used them to have another drink!  Josie called to say she was going to go to church and did I want to go with her.  I had to pass.  Poor Josie…how did she end up with a lush for a mother?  Actually, I hadn’t even finished my second drink, but I’m sure in her eyes I’m already just a few sips away from hell.

 The game ended with the brown and yellow team winning (good) and Charlie coming in from outside with a bloody nose (bad).  Of course what could be more appropriate than a bloody nose at a rugby-like, yet not a rugby game?

It was at that point I ran to the commissary to pick up a cake for Charlie.  I had thought we would go to dinner, but it was getting late and we didn’t have time to go somewhere that they would have desert, much less sing.

The girls called and asked if they could go bowling at 7.  It was 6.  We still had yet to do presents, dinner or cake.  I took the boys and Lachlan with me to go get the girls.  Charlie agreed that McDonalds would be the fastest.  We drove to McDonalds and ordered the regular with one extra burger for Lachlan.  Because it was Charlie’s birthday and all the kids are usually begging Sawyer for extra nuggets, I got him a 10 piece.

We drove back to the house and the girls inhaled their food.  They told Charlie to hurry up and open his presents.  He did a great job tearing through everything.  Let’s just say it was a Duck Dynasty Birthday and leave it at that.  Charlie was very happy.  By the time he was done a few other kids had arrived to get a ride to the bowling alley. 

As I was getting the car keys, I saw a burger sitting on the table. 

“Lachlan, did you eat?”

“No ma’am.”

“Why not?”

“No one gave me a burger.”

“Now you know, when you are at the Carltons, you need to speak up.”

“I don’t believe Charles has eaten his either.”

“Charlie?  Did you eat?”

“No!” he said with agitation.

“Girls, where is Charlie’s burger?”

This was met with a few grunts, shrugs and someone saying there were only four burgers in the bag.

Note to self:  ALWAYS, ALWAYS COUNT THE FREAKING BURGERS BEFORE DRIVING AWAY!!!

We piled a bunch of kids into the car and drove to the bowling alley.  I dropped them off and waited the obligatory 5 minutes to make sure there was someone there that made it worth staying.  After that, we drove Lachlan home.  I felt obliged to go in with him and explain to his parents that I almost forgot to feed him and please remind him to speak up when he’s at our house.  I’d rather fess up now, than have them talking about me every time someone didn’t get their food.  “Remember that American woman who forgot to feed our son?”

By some miracle I was down to two kids in my care.  From the munching in the back seat, I knew that Sawyer had gotten his nuggets and that he was sharing with Charlie.

“Charlie, are you having some of Sawyer’s nuggets?”

“Yeah.” (Notice his friend answered my question with a “Ma’am.”)

“Will those fill you up for dinner?”

“They’ll be enough until we go back to McDonalds for my hamburger.”

“Really?  You want to go back?”

“Moooooommmmmm, it’s my birthday.  Shouldn’t I at least get the hamburger I ordered?”

Any God-fearing Catholic child knows the power of a good guilt trip.

“Okay, Charlie, you’re right.  We’ll go back.”

I drive all the way back to McDonalds, which in the scheme of things is not really that far.  However, in that moment, it was as if someone told me I had to drive to Colorado.  I was getting tired and the boys, though chattering in the back, were not fighting, which told me they were tired too.

As soon as we turned into the parking lot, I could see the drive through lane, which had been empty before, had a pretty good conga line going.  Why was McDs packed at 9:07 on a Saturday night?  Didn’t these people have anything better to do?  Oh, right.  We live in Leavenworth, KS…they don’t have anything better to do.

We waited behind 6, SIX cars to pull up to the ordering station where I spoke with one of Charlie Brown’s parents.  After explaining that we didn’t get one of our burgers, I was able to make out some garble about the second window. 

It was then I noticed the near silence in the back seat.

“Charla, are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, we’re gonna get your burger in a second.  There are just a couple more cars ahead of us.”

“K”

Answers consisting of a single letter signal one of two things in my house.

1. I am talking to a teenager.

2. I am talking to someone who is about to fall asleep.

“Hang in there buddy.  Don’t fall asleep!  We are almost there and you can get your dinner.  Seriously, Charlie, don’t fall asleep.”

“K”

I pull up to the window and inform the girl that we are back because we didn’t get one of our burgers the last time I was at her window.

“Wow.  That took awhile.” She said.

“Well, we drove all the way back to post, we didn’t eat right away and even after we realized there was a sandwich missing, I had to drop some kids off at different places.  I came back as soon as I could.”

“No, I meant it took you awhile to get from the ordering box to the window.”

“Oh. Yes, well that too!”

She hands me the brown lunch sack size bag with a pitiful lone burger and one lousy napkin without so much as a “sorry for your inconvenience.”

I smile sweetly and say “Thank you.”

I pull away from the window and my heart hits my stomach with a thud.

“Charlie?”

Nothing.  Not even a letter!

“Charlie, hon, I have your hamburger.”

That’s when the faint snore comes through loud and clear.  Both boys are racked out in the back of the van.

Un-flippin-believable!

Actually, no it’s not, it’s completely believable…this is so believable in fact, that if having to bet on the outcome of the evening, I could’ve doubled our savings account.

I sigh and turn the radio up as I drive all the way back through the thriving metropolis of downtown Leavenworth, KS missing my husband.  And then I heard it.  Like a telepathic message the radio played one of his all time favorite songs.

“1, 2, 3, and to the fo”

Could it be?

“Snoop Doggy Dogg and Dr. Dre is at the door.”

I could hear my husband Charlie’s voice rapping this entire song word for word on one of our first dates.  (Pretty impressive for a white guy- he scored big points for that)  I turned the back speakers off and cranked the pitiful minivan radio.  For just a few minutes I was that girl again, riding in a BMW convertible with the top down, Snoop blaring in my ears, my only concern was making sure I got up for work in the morning.

I think God must’ve felt very sorry for me in order for Him to choose that song, to make me feel better.  It helped.  It really helped.  And little did I know all those years ago, in Arlington, VA that I would one day find such deep comfort in a “G Thang.”

And so my friends and readers, until I write again; I will close with the immortal words of Andre Romelle Young and Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr.:

It's like this and like that and like this and uh
It's like that and like this and like that and uh
It's like this, and we ain't got no love for those
So jus' chill, 'til the next episode.

 

 

 

elloHello

Marty Who?

Here we are again. Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras. The night you need to figure out what you are going to do for Lent. Because, really, who decides weeks out in advance? (If you do, please go back and read my first post which discussed the type of people who shouldn't be reading this blog.)

Is Lent early this year? Does it change? I think it does because Easter can seem late or early and Lent has to be 40 days right? I dunno, it just seems to have snuck up on me once again.

In my ever increasing effort to raise my children in a Catholic home I wanted to discuss Lent. However, because we were eating late and I was more concerned with the logistics of getting the most amount of family members to church tomorrow with the least amount of disruption of school and evening activities, I had forgotten to bring up the subject of Lent itself.

Thankfully, God has placed a Saint-in-Training right in my family. Josie said "Let's go around the table and say what we're gonna do for Lent." Great, even more proof that this child has a Fast Pass to Heaven!

Why we started with Brother, I have no idea. It was certainly not a good choice. I can't remember what I said to start things off. Obviously, nothing explanatory.

Brother's response was "Well, somebody can get me some new sneakers because mine are getting old."

Tali: "It's Lent, not Christmas!"

Lyra: "Don't you know anything?"

Me: "Okay, maybe I didn't explain it well enough. Lent is the time before Easter when we think about how much Jesus suffered before he died. You want to give up something that would be hard so you could remember how hard it was for Jesus to do what he did to save us."

Lyra: "Yeah, like when he was in the desert." (Impressive! Maybe she does stay awake during CCD)

We try to get back to Brother. I ask him, "What do you do a lot that would be hard to give up?"

He tilts his head in deep thought and says "I'll give up wearing jeans!" This comment brings upon a new round of insults from his sisters.

We decide to skip him and go to Tali. "I'm going to give up sweets." Charlie says "Wow, Tali." She shrugs, "Well, I'm gonna try not to eat them." (I give her about 2 days before she decides that anything less than 10 pieces a day is keeping her end of the bargain.)

Brother jumps back in, "I'm gonna give up gum."

"Oh my gosh!" (Said with dripping sarcasm and disdain)

"You don't even chew gum!"

"You don't like gum!"

"Well, than I can give it up for the rest of my life!"

Dad decides to join the conversation: “Giving up something you like to do would be a good idea. How about giving up X-Box?”

I was concerned the girls were gonna get whiplash with such enthusiastic head nodding. (Sadly, the Wii broke shortly after Christmas and I don’t have the money to replace it yet.) Brother is the only one who plays with the second hand Xbox he and Charlie found at a garage sale. He has two games football and something else, but he only plays football and it drives the girls crazy and it’s too hard for Sawyer so he doesn’t play it either. Hmmmm, I wouldn’t mind not hearing the “tweet” of the whistles for awhile.

Brother, overly anxious to please his Dad immediately agreed. The girls all rolled their eyes and I know they were thinking the same thing I was. He will get up and go directly into the playroom and start playing at about 6:15 in the morning. He has earned his place as my lost cause.

Lyra volunteered that she was going to stop biting her nails. I really hope she can. I would love nothing more than for her to have some semblance of fingernails left. Even if it means buying a case of Bacitracin as she will surely put longer nails to good use on her siblings faces, backs, and arms.

Dad says “Okay, I am going to give up bacon, lose some weight and not drink beer.”

Lyra murmurs “That will be suffering!”

“Suffering for us!” I mutter.

(Earlier, he had told Lyra he wasn’t going to drink during Lent. Her eyes were wide
with concern and she said “Not even water?” He said “No, I mean drink alcohol.” She said “Good, cuz I was gonna say I think you can like die if you don’t drink anything, like not even water.”)

Sawyer, who has just begun to sit with us during dinner and has even been known to take a few bites of what we are eating lately, said “Chocolate Milk!”

I said “You need more milk, Sauce?” And he said “No, I will give it up.”

The girls were really impressed for a minute. We all were. Then Lyra or Josie said “What about school? You drink chocolate milk everyday at lunch.”
(One of the lunch ladies told me today that sometimes that’s all he has for lunch)
I’m trying to figure out how to say that he can’t give it up when he did so well picking something. He said “I can give it up at home!” I thought it was brilliant!

Josie said she is going to try really hard not to have to put her name on the board at school. I laughed and said “No, really, what are you gonna do?” She said, “I’m gonna do my homework every night so that I don’t have to write my name on the board.” This is news to me. Apparently, she’s forgotten or not done her homework four times in the last several weeks. Things have been crazy lately and she’s got something every day after school except Friday. I thought that was fair, because she also said she wants to really work hard to do her eye therapy homework every night too. It’s been really hard to fit that in and I need her to take some responsibility with it. Besides, Josie is well on her way to Sainthood so every 40 days is like Lent to her.

So then, they all look at me. Yikes! I told them I was going to do a few things. First, I was going to try to give up soda...

I suddenly worried that the ax man was behind me with the way their jaws dropped, their eyes bulged, and they all seemed to cringe. Then I finished my statement. I will give up soda on days of fasting, so Ash Wednesday and on Fridays.

I thought Josie might burst into tears from sheer relief. But don’t think for a second I missed the smirk on Lyra’s face or Tali’s raised eyebrows. They don’t think I can do it. Sadly, I’m not sure I can, but I’m gonna try really really hard.

I also told them that I was going to work around the house to get things organized. I’d like to do about ½ hour in the basement or somewhere else in the clutter each day. I told them that this would be an offering to Jesus and to Daddy since Daddy has a hard time with messiness!

I figure Jesus would want me to be a good wife right?!?

I just saw an article on 40 bags in 40 days and that was exactly the type of thing I was thinking. I hadn’t put it in those terms, but I thought it spelled it out wonderfully.

So who knows what Lent will bring. Lenten promises seem to work out better than New Year’s Resolutions as there is the Light (pun intended) at the end of the tunnel!

Plus, as I was saying good night to the kids, Josie said, “Mom, I also want to read two pages of my new Bible every night.”

It warmed my heart as I smiled at her and thought to myself, "Whose child is this and where the heck are her parents?"

There's No Place Like Home

Coming from a girl that lives in Kansas, it may seem a bit strange that I’m talking about Carlisle, PA. But I assure you I am. Moving to the Army War College when I was four, my father requested to stay here to allow his children some stability. We ended up staying on post until my father retired in 1982. I was in 8th grade. Staying was not a sure thing but I begged and pleaded and ultimately was thrilled my parents found a house in town and I was able to graduate from Carlisle High School like my seven siblings. You could say I am the “Anti Army Brat.”

By the time I graduated I was trying to find my way out of here. Onto “bigger and better things” than my small Pennsylvania town could offer. After several years of trying to find myself, I ended up living in Northern VA and working in DC when I was invited to a party by a high school friend. “Do you remember Charlie Carlton from high school? He’ll be there.” I had no recollection of a guy named Charlie who was a freshman when I was a junior, but I went to the party and the rest, as they say, is history.

Despite my intention to never marry a man in the military, that’s exactly what I did. We got married in the church on Carlisle Barracks where I’d made my first communion in the second grade, my confirmation in the eighth grade and where my two sisters got married. It was the wedding every girl dreams of.

Charlie was a Captain in the Army at the time. The marriage has blessed us with five children and more than twice that many moves in the last 14 years. Change is a constant in my kids’ lives, but so is Carlisle. Because Charlie has deployed four times and spent so much time traveling even when he’s not deployed, the kids and I have come to Carlisle for an extended vacation almost every summer since they were born.

My parents’ having a pool in the backyard is certainly a big draw. It’s much easier to walk out the back door than to pack up a truckload of stuff to bring to the public pool wherever we are currently living. And having four extra hands (belonging to my parents) doesn’t hurt either. My kids have benefited greatly from spending so much time with their grandparents and getting to know their cousins that live locally as well as all the others who also come for summer visits. (There are 27 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren to date) Whoever can make it to Carlisle over the 4th of July comes, and we usually have a pretty good crowd. It gets a little crazy in the house; you can typically find kids sleeping on every available couch and floor space. My mother somehow manages to cook dinners for an army and keep enough snacks in the house that the kids are fed on a regular basis. My Dad is the pancake king. He’s so meticulous about his pancake’s being “a decent size,” he would only do one at a time in a large frying pan. He finally broke down recently to buy a large griddle so he can do several at once. This way we are done eating breakfast before lunchtime.

It becomes more apparent each year that family is not the only benefit of spending time in Carlisle. The amount of things I do with the kids while here is truly amazing. Trying to give my parents an occasional quiet moment has me seeking out “good cheap fun” with the kids. Sure, there are several amusement parks around the area but let’s face it, how many people do you know who have the money to take five kids to Hersey for the day more than once or twice a summer? Plus, it’s five against one! Personally, I don’t enjoy those kinds of odds. So we do the things that are closer and much less expensive. If you ask my kids their favorite thing to do in Carlisle, most of them would say “Massey’s.” The ice cream itself is only part of the experience. It’s the walk to Massey’s with cousins or grandparents. Then the atmosphere of sitting in the parking lot watching the cars go by or running into friends or teachers from the past. As I watch the kids walking home, happy, giggling, and chasing fireflies I can’t help but think that these are the things childhood memories are made of.

Since we arrived in Carlisle in mid-June we have done, visited and/or experienced the following: I sent the girls to basketball camp at Shippensburg and drove them each day. (We found a great little ice cream shop in the municipal building). Bosler Library offers a great story time for toddlers, I remember bringing my 11 and 12 year olds to listen to Miss Elaine when they were one and two. This year, the 4 yr old went. We’ve gone as a family several times getting books, movies, and even audio books for the car. We’ve been to Ft. Letort to play and feed the ducks and to the playground behind St. Patrick’s church after mass. My dad and I took the boys to play tennis at Mooreland and they got engaged in a game of imaginary baseball on the field which allowed my Dad and me a rare chance to volley with each other for a few minutes.

That doesn’t even include Summerfair! Although my father was ill and we were not able to participate in the preparation of the Rotary Roast Beef Dinner, we still ate the delicious meal! We had great seats at the parade Friday night and had plenty of ice cream at the social afterwards. I finally got up the nerve to run the Saturday morning 5k. I started running the race with a friend I hadn't seen in years. (Then I watched his back as he got smaller and smaller while I was wheezing for air) The kids got up and were in the yard in their pajamas cheering me on while I ran up Belvedere Street.

Later that day we went to Dickenson. The craft fair is a favorite of the kids. It’s becoming a favorite of mine as they have started bringing their own money! So concerned were my kids that we might miss the Baby Races, that we got front row seats about 45 minutes before they started. The reward for the long hot wait was that we were in the background of a picture of the races that appeared in the Sentinel the next day.

Thanks to FaceBook, I have reconnected with several friends who are still in the area and others who still get back to visit their folks as well. My kids have “friends” that they see once a year while visiting Carlisle. We attended a picnic at a friend’s house where we watched the impressive fireworks show. (Tip: Last year we watched from the Target parking lot which was great for my little ones who aren’t big on loud noises!) I met up with some friends from High School and we had a great adventure hiking at Tumbling Run. A fund raising picnic for Heaven Kelly, a local girl with cancer allowed my kids to explore yet another playground while spending some of their own money to help out another child. Bluegrass on the Grass led to seeing family friends that I wouldn’t have seen had we not attended.

The Carlisle Theatre Company puts on a show each year that leaves my kids begging to return the next night. Sometimes we do, BECAUSE IT’S FREE! I credit last year’s show of “Joseph” for getting my kids to audition and perform in the Music Man Junior at Fort Leavenworth this year. This year’s production of “All Shook Up” has introduced them to the music of Elvis.

While we lived in Germany, Charlie and I had a son who had died in utero. After I delivered, we had him baptised. The Army shipped the body back to Carlisle and my parents were able to bury him at St. Patrick's cemetary with my grandmother. Visiting "Gerard's Rock" is something the kids actually ask to do. We had made many trips to the cemetary over several years before they realized that people were actually buried under the tombstones. (True story) But that never stopped them from wanting to go out there. The statue that had been next to the grave had broken over the last several years. I've been looking for just the right one to replace it. I found it today at The Susquahanna House, which is owned and run by another high school friend! Go figure!

Few things are as much fun as tagging along with my Dad to some of his regular activities. He meets several of his friends for breakfast every Saturday morning at Kimberly’s Café. They call themselves The Breakfast Club. I don’t come close to going every Saturday while I’m home, (retired Army officers like to eat REALLY EARLY in the morning) but I’m happy to say I made it last week. I also attended a Rotary Club meeting last week. A great club doing great things for this town. Tonight, he brought me to the Monday Night Book Club at Bosler Library. Everywhere we go, I’m greeted with a smile! Most of the credit for this goes to my father, I know, for being such a great guy. But I think it speaks volumes for a town to be so welcoming.

We are headed to Mount Saint Mary’s in Emmitsburg, MD tomorrow to connect with a collage friend I haven’t seen in years. We’ll hit the Gettysburg outlets at some point before we leave. I consider that one of the more “educational” segments of our vacation. “Look at the battlefields, kids. Okay, now we can shop!”

Unfortunately, we never made it to any of the Sunday in the Park concerts this year. It never ceases to amaze me how the kids love to sit on the benches in Thornwald Park and listen to any and all types of music. When the young ones get a bit wild, no one seems to mind as I walk them to the back of the crowd. Typically, there is a Carlisle Policeman on duty who is happy to chat with my kids and let them gawk at the cruiser. I also missed an afternoon at Tangles, my favorite beauty shop. I’ve been getting my hair cut there for years. When the owners daughter, who was a friend from high school, took over it made it that much more fun to go and catch up on what I’ve missed in the last year.

I know Carlisle has changed as much as I have since I moved away. I’ve grown up and so has this town. It’s bigger, more diverse, the high school isn’t winning as much as we used to when I was a cheerleader, but still; it’s Carlisle. It’s home. My home. And there truly is, no place like it!

Life Goes On...

Lyra, my Lyra. Sweet 7 year old Lyra who is missing her Daddy more than even she understands. I have spent night after night with her while she cries unable to wake up from a bad dream, or when she does wake up tells me she dreamt that Daddy got hurt or worse...that I told her Daddy was never coming home.

People can tell me all day how resilient kids are and I will tell them all the questions my kids have asked while Daddy's been gone. You can never completely bounce back from that kind of fear I think. I thought as they got older the deployments would be easier, I was wrong...way wrong!

So, back to Lyra (Leer-uh...rhymes with "Bartender, can I have a beer, uh make it two") Her full name is ILYRA. It's an Albanian name, that loosely translates to "freedom." And if I had any notion that naming her that would give her the personality to find her own freedom, I may have hesitated on the choice.

As far as I can remember she has done things her way. She has never been known to try to "impress" many of her relatives. This mainly goes to her Grandparents. Although she has a fun filled relationship with my father that has the two of them in a constant battle of who snuck the last spank, most days she doesn't give my mother the time of day. She's not outwardly malicious or nasty, just aloof. And it's worse with Charlie's parents. But, where my mother just ignores Lyra right back (which seems to maintain her respect), Charlie's parents try to force her to engage with them. This doesn't work out so well. It has gotten me in trouble for not "teaching that child how to respect her elders" and has gotten her a bad reputation for being a pill. For anyone who is agreeing with the elders comment; if you really use the word "elders" you're probably a little too prim and proper for this blog. Feel free to stay, I'm just sayin'...

The last time Charlie deployed to Afghanistan was in '07 and the child in question was 5. Although seemingly fine on almost every other front, she developed a ginormous fear of darkness and guns.

+++Note to parents: The musical OKLAHOMA, while seemingly innocent and fun, does nothing to reassure a phobic child when the theatre lights go down and the cowboys start kicking up their heels and firing their guns. However, should you forget this tidbit of advise, the guy working the lobby at Allenberry Playhouse in Carlisle, PA is very nice to chat with.+++

This deployment has been a bit different. She no longer screams bloody murder at the movie theater. This has been extremely helpful to the rest of the family as well as hundreds of theater goers. Nor does she blink an eye when her brother and 1/2 the neighborhood play Army Man.

She does however get angry. Very angry. So much so that after repeated unprovoked attacks on her siblings, I have put her into therapy. (I should mention here that I'm a big proponent of therapy. Everyone can use someone uninvolved in your life to talk to...and a professional usually gives you much better advise than the drunk sitting next to you at the bar.)

A few months ago, Lyra announced that she would be making her First Holy Communion when her Daddy came home and not on April 10th when the rest of the CCD class would. She told me "I want Daddy to see me do it with his own eyeballs, not through a camera." I had to admit, she made a good point. She was very upset that he did not get to see her play basketball this year. It didn't seem to matter that he didn't see Tali or Josie play either because "He saw them last year, he's never ever seen me."

I know this whole deployment thing has been hard on me and my brain can process why he's there. Tali made her 1st Communion while Charlie was in Afghanistan. It was hard for her, but Tali somehow has the ability to do what she needs to do and move on. She is mature beyond her years and my most emotionally stable child.

Lyra, not so much. So, when she announced she wanted to wait, I understood. After talking to friends and family I got up my nerve to go see the parish priest. Father Blank (no, not the real name, duh) is a very nice guy and is not any more threatening than any man of the collar. As a good Catholic, all priests make me a little nervous. Really, if you can completely let loose in front of a priest, you probably also use the word "elders" and we've already discussed your options to stop reading.

So, Father was cool and said "No problem. We'll figure it out once he comes home and do whatever you want to do." What was great was that he made this decision without the help of the DRE (Director of Religious Education). I did not want her involved any more than necessary. Let's just say she's a bit of a fanatic about Religious Ed., and loves to lay the guilt and any blame on the parents who are not "displaying a faith based example" for the children to follow. She announced at the beginning of the school year that "at least one parent of any child in a sacramental year shall sign up for an adult Bible study at the chapel." I refused for several reasons:

#1. The best way to get Mary Carlton to not do something is to tell her you are forcing her to do it. (Maybe why some of those college assignments didn't go so well)

#2. I had already signed up to go to the Women of St. Ignatius (WOSI) on Thursday mornings and they did a Bible study there. The DRE announced that WOSI and/or Knights of Columbus Bible studies did not count toward the sacramental year requirement. (I quit WOSI out of protest-- and the desire to have Thursday mornings free.)

#3. I have 5 children...given the choice, do you really think I would rather stay at church while they go to CCD instead of go back home and be alone for an hour and 1/2? Do you even have to think about that one???

#4. Perhaps, most importantly, the kids go to CCD at 8 AM on Sunday mornings. Please re-read reason #3 and then think about where I'd rather be at 8 AM on a Sunday morning. I kick them out the door and go back to bed!

Back to Lyra. We avoided the initial discussion with the DRE, and things continued along the chaotic path that has been this deployment. Lyra continued to fulfill all of her requirements and attended the day long retreat in mid-March. That afternoon they had a professional photographer come to do pictures. I signed up and we had Lyra's picture taken. Truthfully, I was afraid if I didn't do this, she would end up making her 1st Communion some random Sunday and never put the "outfit" on.

The pictures came out beautiful and the dress fit and all was well. The Friday before the Big Day, I mentioned to Lyra before she went to school, that if she had any intention at all of making her 1st Communion the next day, she HAD to go to practice that afternoon. I was very worried she would wake up Saturday and say "Let's go do my Communion thing now." I didn't really think that would happen, but with Lyra, you never do know. So what does she do...she says "Yes, I do want to make it tomorrow!"

After scraping my jaw off the floor (and washing my chin as the floor is perpetually filthy) I told her we would go to practice that afternoon.

So we went and it was entirely too long and the kids were losing their minds by the time we left. The morning of Communion was full of the typical chaos. The boys were fussing because they didn't want to go to childcare, the girls were annoyed I made them go at all BUT THEN I made them dress up. Evil Mother!!!

Mass was held at 10am on Saturday. We were instructed several times at practice AND at the actual mass that this DID NOT fulfill our Sunday obligation! (Thanks for nothin!) The mass itself went on for TWO HOURS! How many second graders do you know that can hang that long in church? Then, put them in uncomfortable outfits...

Lyra was horrible during mass. Fidgeting, fussing, whining and complaining. I finally realized she is at her worst behavior when she is nervous (it all makes sense now). When I questioned her about being scared she nodded and provided me with enough "What ifs" that I started to worry. I honestly was not sure she would go through with it until the host was actually in her mouth, and when it was, I'm sure the entire church heard my huge sigh of relief.

All I kept thinking was it's done, it's over, I don't have to stress anymore. As mass continued another 15 minutes the boy in front of us was crawling under the pew and the girl in front of him was twisting her head piece around so that the veil was against her face and she was sticking her tongue out against it...pretty!

Lyra was more than ready to go (so was I, so were Tali and Josie) when the DRE stood up and said "We have a few children out there whose Mom's or Dad's are deployed..." At this point, I was thinking that we were going to pray the "Peace Prayer for Deployed Soldiers" that we usually pray at the end of each mass which seemed like a nice touch. But no, they asked that the kids with a deployed parent to stand up. I stood up with Lyra because she was looking a bit pale. We were the only ones who stood up, and everyone looked at us with those pity filled faces and Lyra burst into tears.

As the DRE continued to talk I'm sure what Lyra heard was: "Lyra Carlton, please don't forget that your Dad is not here on your special day. Everyone else's Dad is here and we'd like to rub that in your face! Please stand up so we can all stare at you and make you feel worse than we already have."

It was then time to process out of the church, so there we went. I looked really tall surrounded by little girls wearing white. Lyra was hysterical. And after all that do you think that Father or the DRE talked to Lyra afterwards? NOPE! How sad is that?

I didn't realize I had stopped listening when Lyra started to cry, but my friend told me that the DRE ended her talk with "We're sorry they cannot be with us today, but well, life goes on. And the closing song will be..."

LIFE GOES ON??? Those are your words of wisdom for a heartbroken 7 year old? Thanks for your insight and "faith based example" lady!!!

Thanks for stopping by!

WOW!!! I asked you to come and you did! You really did!

So, here's where I say thanks and welcome to my blog! However, there are a few things you should know before you begin to read on. I have no problem with anyone and everyone reading my stuff, but there are a few select people who may enjoy it more than others. I want to take the time to point out the characteristics of those who will most benefit from said reading. That way, they know who they are and the rest of you can decide if I am blogworthy!

If you have children, know any children, or were once a child...you may want to read on.

If you are a parent, know a parent, or had a parent...you may want to continue.

Catholics (recovering or otherwise) and anyone else harboring excessive guilt...you are always welcome here.

If you have lived in 10 different houses in 13 years of marriage and have stopped hanging curtains altogether...put down your husbands rank and hang out here!

If you live in fear that Social Services may come knocking at your door by accident, perhaps looking for directions, and happen to see the state of your house...read on Sister!

If you have ever almost set the house on fire because you forgot about the nipples and/or pacifiers you left to boil on the stove...you are among friends.

If you skip any recipe that requires cutting up more than two things...find a comfortable chair and sit. (cuz you know you ain't worried about what's for dinner yet!)

If you've ever been at a school function and your child says "Stop! My Mom's not here yet." And you say "Honey, I'm right here in the front." And he says "Oh Wow, I didn't know that's how you look in a dress!"...I feel your pain.

If you re-wash at LEAST one load of laundry a week, because the first time you washed it you left it in the washing machine so long it is almost dry...we may be related.

If you have ever put one sippy cup or pacifier (the special one) into a dishwasher full of clean dishes and re-ran the whole thing because you were simply too tired to unload the clean stuff first...you, my friend, are home!


BUT,if none of those things sound remotely familiar...you may have better things to do with your perfect life than read my blog. However, feel free to deviate from your obnoxiousness and see how the rest of us live!

Palm Sunday...

Charlie emailed me this morning and told me he missed Mass. He was feeling especially guilty b/c it was Palm Sunday.

My FB post today read:

In an attempt to save my own soul, I have thrown the kids under the bus. I just couldn't face extra long mass with monsters in tow...If anyone sees my kids in Hell, tell them I said Hi! (Oh wait, I'm probably gonna be there anyway)


So then I wrote back to Charlie with the following~

It's okay you missed mass, the kids did too. Here's what happened:

Jesus was the Grand Marshall of his own parade. Everyone was happy and waved palms.
Jesus had dinner with his crew and gave them the 411 on some stuff that was coming up. They thought he was talkin' smack.
Jesus and the gang went to a garden, Jesus prayed and the crew racked out making Jesus kinda ticked off.
Judas showed up with some soldiers. He kissed Jesus and someone chopped an ear off one of the soldiers. Jesus put the ear back on and went with the soldiers.
There was a riot going on at Pontius Pilots' crib and everyone wanted Jesus to be killed even though there was no reason to do so.
Pontius dumped it onto Herod who dumped it back on Pontius and then they had coffee.
(During all this Peter was perpetratin' just like JC said he would)
The crowd was going nuts and decided to ask for the ancient day Charles Manson to be let out of prison so Jesus could be crucified.
Pilot had no balls and let them nail Jesus on the cross.
Jesus and the guy next to him became buds.
Jesus died, all the while telling God to forgive everyone. (Which when you think about it, should have really tipped them off. Would you be telling God to forgive everyone who just treated YOU like crap and were in the process of killing you? Probably not unless you had some kind of 'in' with the Big Guy.)
Once he was gone, people started to realize they blew it.
The good guys (mostly women of course) put him in a tomb and went home for the Sabbath.

...to be continued....



Of course feeling guilty myself, I start quizzing the kids on some Catholicism over dinner.

Mom: What are the two main parts of the mass?
Tali: The Beginning and The End

Mom: Who can say the Hail Mary?
Tali and Josie sing it b/c they apparently are unable to just say it, but they got it right so I let that go.
Lyra: Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Something, something, and something else.
Mom: That's nice. Try again.
Lyra: Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Bless us O Lord and these thy gifts...oh wait, that's the other one. It doesn't matter, I don't want a treat anyway.
Mom: A treat?
Lyra: If we know all our prayers the CCD teacher will give us a candy bar, but I don't care.
Mom: Well, there's this other treat. It's called NOT GOING TO HELL! You may want to work towards that!
Lyra: Maybe.