Enough With the Labels

I may have already written something like this before, so forgive me Internet for repeating myself, but labeling posts sucks. I kind of feel like the one senior family member we all have who forgets having shared the same story or complaint time and time again, much to the dismay of all of those listening. I'm not meaning to sound terribly ageist, as I'm accusing myself here, too. (It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you're going to make fun of something, it is only really acceptable if you lump yourself in with what you're mocking). But seriously, the pressure to come up with categories, labels, and stuff for each and every blog post is annoying. That's my gripe--my initial gripe at least. My brain doesn't work like that. So I'm bucking the system by not categorizing this, and deluding myself that I'm doing something great and countercultural. You know it's killing me though, right? It's my OCD, I'm sure. Right now I'm debating whether this would qualify as a rant, or a nonsensical rambling. Maybe both. But I'm tuning myself out.

So why am I on here again anyway, after however many months away? It's not because I have something to say. Oh, no. It's not because I mean to apologize for a planned hiatus, for none such thing was planned nor is an apology warranted. It's because I was on Twitter, and was all like, "Oh, look at that. I used to 'keep' a blog! There's the link, right on my profile. Wonder if it's still there!" And of course, I clicked through to find that it was indeed still here. So I thought, "Hey, let me log back in!" Of course, I couldn't remember my password. I answered a bunch of security questions, and received an email at another email account that I hadn't checked in like forever, so obviously, I had forgotten the password there, too. Fast forward like an hour, after several frustrations brought on by the wracking of my brain to not only recall old passwords, but to come up with new ones that didn't suck, and now finally I'm back in. And it was kind of anticlimactic.

And of course, it would have doubly sucked to have gone through all that effort (monumental effort from my p.o.v. today--anything that requires that much brain power is monumental for this girl) and NOT spend an extra few minutes writing something. Anything. This is that thing.

Seriously, this is it. No point to share. None whatsoever. No epiphanies, or clever anecdotes. Nada.

"And just like the prodigal son, I've returned. Anyone stepping to me you'll get burned..." Not Really.

I can't believe it's been a whole fracking year since I've updated this blog. But you know what? I'm not going to sweat it. The moment I turn something into a chore, the less likely I am to work hard at it. Just take a look at the ever-growing pile of dishes in my sink. Well, you won't be able to do that, will you? And I will provide no photographic evidence of that eye-sore either, so just use your imaginations.

I'm glad I was away. It's given me a bit of perspective. Over the course of this hiatus, which I hadn't planned by the way, I was even tempted to just kill off this blog, and start fresh. But I've decided to keep it, as flawed as it is. 

Today is Easter Monday, and I think it's fitting that I decided to come back on and "resurrect" this blog today. There's been a lot of growth, and some stagnation. (Um, perhaps I should switch the order of those to some growth and a lot of stagnation). The growth was mostly internal, while the stagnation was blatant and public enough for all to see. Don't you hate when that happens?

Rather than blather along endlessly, I'll refrain from sharing any full, meandering sort of update. That will come later, I'm sure. For now, I just want to wish you all a very blessed Easter!

It's Good Friday

I love Good Friday. Even my nominally Catholic side of the family observed this day in a solemn way. We weren't allowed to turn on the television, or listen to music. Silence, albeit not strict silence, was encouraged. There was no fasting. That was a foreign concept, although we did abstain from meat. Nearly every Friday of Lent, we'd have bacalao (salted cod) over white rice. These practices were actually quite incredible now that I think of it, considering we weren't really observant. My parents were fairly anti-Catholic, or rather, anti-clergy. My Dad often lamented the treatment he had received at the hands of nuns back when he attended Catholic school in Cuba. My Mom toed the line, right along with him. We didn't attend mass. Well, occasionally on Easter, and sometimes even midnight mass (Misa de Gallo, i.e., "Rooster's Mass"). I did however, attend Catholic school myself, up until half-way through the fifth grade. There was some issue involving my teacher that I can't fully recall, and my Mom had had it. I was promptly transferred out and started to attend public school a block away. That kind of marked the end of any external religious formation for me, for a few years at least.

As a child, I had a keen awareness of God, although it did little to keep me away from trouble. It seemed like I was always in some kind of trouble between the ages of 5 and 10. I was the child that was kept after school nearly every day of the week, only the punishment often backfired because I really loved school then. And I loved having the chance to actually write on the chalkboard, my teachers' chosen punishment. Of course, I'd be writing things like, "I will not talk in class," or "I will not disrupt the class," at least one-hundred times, but as I did so, I'd pretend that I was actually writing out a lesson, and that for that moment, I was the teacher, and that made me feel grown up and important.

One instance of my getting into trouble stands out more than the others. When I was still attending Catholic school, my best friend Maria Elena and I used to steal away from the rest of the class to sneak into the church to light candles. We'd sneak off a lot, but this time we had an especially good reason. She wanted to light a candle for her little sister who was ill. Completely ignoring the candle donation sign, we went along lighting candles, thinking that if we lit ten or twenty, we'd certainly get better results than if we lit just two. I had no concept of time back then. Some may argue that I still don't. But we must have been "missing" for a lot longer than I realized. I can't even imagine my mother's terror at not finding me with the others in my class. Eventually, it was realized that Maria Elena was missing as well, and of course by then, the tension was doubled with two frantic mothers, instead of one. We were, of course, eventually found. My mother was simultaneously irate and relieved, although I only acknowledged the anger. But she couldn't stay mad for long. We were only about six or seven, and we were so resolute in our desire to pray for Maria Elena's little sister. My Mom was touched enough to let it go.

Some time later, my friend's little sister died. She called me on the phone shortly after it happened. I hadn't realized how unwell she had been. The whole idea of children dying came as a shock. That doesn't happen. That can't happen! But we lit candles and everything! It was an early harsh lesson in the reality that not all prayers are answered, at least not in the way we'd like, and no matter how noble the intention.

Fast forward many years, and I still have faith, despite by now being so accustomed to my prayers not being answered the way I'd prefer them to be. And yes, I do sometimes admit to despair. But I tend to direct a lot of the blame onto myself. If only I wasn't so distracted in prayer. If only I was more steady and deserving. If only I really felt the words I was saying.

And then came the Seven Sorrows Rosary.

The traditional rosary is the devotion we commit to praying daily, and I'm in no way belittling it. In fact, I love it. I love praying it. It brings me peace and comfort. Generally, however, I think it's good to mix things up, and keep things fresh by exploring other devotions. Despite having a Seven Sorrows Rosary and book handy for a few weeks, I had neglected to pray it until just this week, at the prompting of a friend. She had just shared how a long time prayer intention of hers was answered almost immediately after starting it. Now, I don't really have a current pressing intention. In fact, I'm awfully guarded with my intentions. I often feel that I'm only entitled to request help for things that are completely out of my control...issues having to do with the health and safety of family and friends. But everything else? I often feel those are completely up to me. I may ask for peace of mind, wisdom, encouragement, and strength in order to work towards the changes I seek, but I don't ever expect not to work hard for these things. I'm also seldom, if ever, specific. For instance, it wouldn't be like me to pray for a new job. Instead, I'd pray for more diligence. Huh, it just occurred to me in writing all of this, that perhaps I'm going about things the wrong way, although I know that God understands my petitions despite my inadequate attempts to communicate them. That's actually a very comforting thought for me.

Anyway, back to the Seven Sorrows Rosary. I prayed it for the first time this week, and it was extremely moving. While I knew and understood that Mary's suffering had to have been great, reading reflections on her seven sorrows was almost too much to bear. For the first time, I was able to really experience the events of Jesus' life from her perspective, and I found myself crying more than once. As a parent, I lie awake at night worrying about my kids' futures, but my worries are based on just anxiety and speculation. Mary, on the other hand, already knew what was to happen to her Son. It wasn't conjecture. It was prophesied. The very first sorrow is the Prophecy of Simeon given at the time of the presentation at the temple when Jesus was just an infant, when Mary is told that a sword will pierce her soul, too. The second sorrow is the Flight to Egypt. Imagine having to flee your home due to a threat against your infant son's life. Imagine the pain of seeing your child moved in what weren't the best conditions, knowing all the while that your child is God incarnate. And imagine the pain a mother would feel at learning of the murder of so many children at Herod's hands, knowing full well that it was her child he was after.

And the third sorrow, the Child Jesus Lost in the Temple, wasn't all that difficult to imagine, for obvious reasons. It was easy to transport myself back through time, back to my own mother's experience of having lost me for those agonizing few minutes, which I'm sure felt like hours to her. I can't even fathom the fear she would have felt if it was for a day or longer.

It wasn't my intention to list all of the sorrows here, but I may as well do so. Here they are, from the beginning:

1. The Prophecy of Simeon; Luke 2:25-35
 

2. The Flight into Egypt; Matthew 2:13-15

3. The Child Jesus Lost in the Temple; Luke 2: 41-50

4. Mary Meets Jesus Carrying the Cross; Luke 23: 27-29 *There is no specific biblical reference for this. This sorrow corresponds with the Fourth Station of the Cross, but we can refer to the private revelations of Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich in this case.

5. Mary at the Foot of the Cross; John 19: 25-30
 

6. Mary Receives the Body of Jesus; *No scriptural reference, but there are accounts from visionary saints such as St. Bridget of Sweden, and Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich. This sorrow also corresponds with the thirteenth Station of the Cross. 
 

7. Mary Witnesses the Burial of Jesus; Luke 23: 50-56.

Our Lady of Kibeho

I used the meditations and prayers that were printed in Immaculée Ilibagiza's book on Our Lady of Kibeho. I have since learned, that apparently, there is some variance in how to pray it. Ultimately, I don't think it should matter which instructions you follow, provided you start with the Sign of the Cross, an Act of Contrition, then three Hail Marys for the tears shed by Our Lady (some sites I saw recommend reserving these three Hail Marys for the end), and then start meditating on the mysteries in order, following each one by an Our Father, and seven Hail Marys. The rosary ends with a short prayer you repeat three times. I've seen at least two versions of this. One is from the Kibeho book, and it goes, "Mary who was conceived without sin and suffered for us, pray for us." Another end prayer I found online goes, "Virgin Most Sorrowful, pray for us." Again, this final prayer is repeated three times. End with the Sign of the Cross. According to the visionaries in Kibeho, Rwanda, Our Lady asked that this rosary be prayed on Tuesdays and Fridays. This devotion has a very clear penitential aspect, and it is particularly well-suited, I think, for a day like today.

Here's yet another version I found online that is particularly helpful, complete with meditations, and background information on the history of this devotion, as well as the promises associated with the faithful recitation of it.

Let me know if you get to pray this rosary. It has brought me such a sense of peace, and has allowed me such an amazing window into the sorrows of Our Lady. I would love to hear if it has done the same for anyone out there reading this.

Cabin Fever

What is it about this time of year anyway? I feel like I'm pulling teeth. Everyone is spent, and going all non co-op on me. Things that should take ten minutes, are taking an hour or more, and to make matters worse, my allergies have made me crabby. I find myself just about to snap at someone, only to be unceremoniously interrupted by a dozen or so sneezes. I'm no real winner here either, as my efficiency levels have been gradually waning since about two weeks into winter, so a fair amount of my crabbiness is directed at myself. But I'm finding that even the tiniest things can set me off lately, like this new "thing" about naming every single winter storm. Apparently, winter storm Virgil is now brewing. I mean, what is the criteria for naming these things anyway? Names only make them seem more ominous. Maybe that's what they're after...making everyone paranoid, fearing power outages as extreme as those we had during Sandy. Once a storm is forecasted, it's like everyone goes into survivalist mode. Stores are wiped clean of water, milk, bread, and duct tape. My mother is always the first to call, pleading with me to stock up on water and toilet paper (???) for the kids' sakes. I don't know how best to stock up anyway. I've got a twelve year old son, and his appetite has reached astronomical proportions. There is nary an item I can buy in bulk that isn't consumed or devoured in a day or two, rendering us all completely unprepared by storm day two or three.

So anyway, yes, we've had cabin fever for weeks now. I thought that we could remedy a bit of the frustration we were all feeling by starting up my husband's Netflix gift subscription. What would work better to distract us from this abysmal weather than streaming movies over the net? We were so proud of ourselves for having thought to give him a three month trial subscription for Christmas, but he held onto the codes for a lot longer than we had hoped. His reasoning was that he wanted to have a list handy of all of the films he wanted to watch. I figured I'd write my own list, too. Finally, the pressure was too great, so he succumbed to starting it up a couple of weeks ago. And let me tell you, I was completely and utterly uninformed about what Netflix was really like. I naively thought that I could watch just about everything on it. As I used the search function to check for the films on my list, I was met with one disappointment after another. Not one of the films I wanted to watch was even on there. Mind you, we just have the Instant Watch part of the package. So there was no watching A Man For All Seasons, Bella, Some Kind of Wonderful, Neverending Story, Grosse Pointe Blank, and a number of other titles I had been itching to watch. I felt like a big dope. It just really never occurred to me that 1) these wouldn't be on there, and 2) that the current shows and films on there would eventually expire and be replaced. That said, I did manage to watch some stuff I've enjoyed, namely season one of Downton Abbey. Of course, Netflix doesn't have season two, nor are they like to. Apparently, Amazon has an exclusive deal on Downton going forward. So of course, now I'm coveting Amazon Prime.

Off to rally the troops, and pull some more teeth. 

A Thursday Reflection

So yesterday, my husband and I took the kids to a talk given by Immaculee Ilibagiza, a survivor of the Rwandan holocaust. You may catch a bit of her story in the following video:

Her talk was heart-wrenching, as you can imagine. But she was funny as well, which was such a welcome gift considering the heaviness of the topic. And by the end of it, I had felt that I had just gotten off of a roller coaster of emotion. Crying in parts, laughing in others. In short, I felt bipolar, and exhausted from all of the BIG feelings.

And I choked. I choked back tears, and only barely avoided the the ugly cry...in public no less. But then when it came to the book signing part, I choked again, but in a different way. While on line to see her, I played out what I would say, how I wished her signature to be personalized and addressed to our family, how impressed I was with her strength and clarity. Basically, ALL THE THINGS. I can be very articulate *in my head.* Then before I knew it, I was up. And my husband, my safety net for such situations, was busy off to the side, poised to take a picture, and I was left to remember all the things on my own. The kids were no help. I kind of forgot they existed for a few seconds. All I thought was, "What can I possibly say to someone who has experienced some of the most horrid stuff ever?" This is a woman whose family and friends were wiped out. The horror of that realization hit me hard as I stood there. I felt inarticulate and completely inadequate. I set the books on the table, smiled awkwardly, mumbled something about how I had been following her story for a while now, and thanked her for her talk. I don't even know if she was able to make out a word I said. All I wanted, was to leave and not inconvenience her any further. But she wasn't inconvenienced. As a matter of fact, she was super gracious. And of course she would be. This is also a woman who forgave her family's killers. How more gracious can any person be?

As I picked up my books and turned to go, I saw how she was greeted by the next person in line...with a handshake and a hug. There was a genuine ease to it. Why didn't I think to do that? Gosh, I sometimes feel so totally awkward in my own skin, and boy do I think too much (although you'd likely doubt I thought much at all just a few seconds earlier). And then I realized that I had forgotten to ask her to make out the dedication to my family, and I felt like I had let everyone down. Silly, I know, but this is how my mind works. I was kicking myself over it, too, for a little longer than I care to admit. This of course, led to a lot of teasing from my husband and the kids, which I had a bit of difficulty taking in stride. I felt justified in wallowing a while longer in my guilt. It's like a self-induced period of purgation I have to go through. And of course, the whole thing is silly. There I was worrying about choking just a few minutes after listening to a talk about one woman's harrowing ordeal in surviving the Rwandan Holocaust. What a completely ridiculous juxtaposition! And maybe that realization is what caused me to choke in the first place. What have I ever experienced that can compare to her experiences? The answer: Nothing at all. Yeah, I've got problems. First world problems. In other words, no problems at all.

The talk itself was rather varied. Of course, Immaculee spoke mainly about her ordeal, the loss of her family, and the anger she initially harbored over the violence unleashed on Tutsis by the majority Hutu tribe immediately following the death of the Hutu Rwandan president in a plane crash in 1994. But she also spoke of her faith in God, her dependence on prayer while in hiding, her ultimate acceptance of what happened, and even a bit about the process of getting published.

She spoke of Our Lady of Kibeho, a Marian apparition in the 1980's in Rwanda which she and many others feel prophesied the coming genocide. I hadn't even heard of Our Lady of Kibeho, whose apparitions the Vatican approved in 2001. After the talk, I read through a few of the messages the visionaries received and was taken aback at how precise and accurate these were, particularly in light of what happened afterwards. In Kibeho, Mary appeared as Our Lady of Sorrows, and encouraged the praying of the Chaplet/Rosary of the Seven Sorrows, a devotion that officially took root in the 13th century, even though there is evidence that the devotion played a part in general Catholic piety long before that time. While I had heard of this chaplet (thanks to my handy dandy book on chaplets), I have never prayed it before. I hope to do so this week. So many chaplets, so little time! I've been meaning to start the Chaplet of St. Michael as well, after reading all of the promises associated with that one (An escort of nine angels, one from each choir of angels, when approaching Holy Communion?!?!? How neat is that?!?!?). Thankfully, I was able to pick up a beautiful Seven Sorrows rosary yesterday, too...one made with Job's tears seed beads from Rwanda. How appropriate that they used Job's tears! Anyway, so now I have no excuse to get started.

And in tangentially related news, we are all so grateful to have a new Pope. I am loving everything I'm reading about Pope Francis already. It was actually nice to be at the talk yesterday just after the news came out of Rome. There was something neat about being in a room full of Catholics, all equally excited about having a new shepherd. It was just the right crowd to be among on a day like that. Most of my friends are Cultural Catholics, non-practicing Catholics, or non-Catholics. And some among my acquaintances, and yes, even some family, are fairly anti-Catholic. It's not like I'm used to sharing this sort of religion-related excitement publicly, at least outside of this blog, and an occasional Twitter update, or Facebook status. Often, I refrain from sharing because I feel that I would just be inviting a whole lot of negativity from others. And negativity is something I like to avoid, particularly when it's aimed at something about which I care so deeply. Usually it's just comments like, "When will the Church catch up with the times?" that make my head hurt. I sometimes feel that that's just too large a question to address. I know what I'd like to say, but I'd need an hour to say it. I'd start with something about how God exists outside of time, and how just because we change, that doesn't mean that God's Word changes. And then if challenged with, "But the Church isn't God's word," or,  "Jesus never said this or that," I'd say something like, "But He gave Peter the authority to 'bind and loose'...", and then of course, we'd fall into an argument over papal infallibility, and we'd never be done. Seriously, I feel that it would require too much time and effort to really capture my thoughts on this. Heaven knows just how inarticulate I can be when it comes to getting my points across. And considering that issues as basic as that already dig at my threshold, I am likely doing the right thing by keeping some of these things to myself. Otherwise, I'd monopolize everyone's time, and end up not making a whole lot of sense anyway. But doing that here wouldn't be practical, nor would it be fun...or therapeutic. And I need my therapy.

   

What We've Been Up To...In Pictures

I'm tired of starting off my posts with apologies for sucking so bad at keeping up with this here blog, complete with lofty promises that I'll get better at updating and such. It's just that writing frequently doesn't appear to be something I can do for any extended period of time. For starters, I kind of get tired of hearing myself talk...or in this case, having my often under-developed thoughts read by others. Not a whole helluva lot happens "up there" at times, and nothing makes it all the more obvious then a perusal over my past posts. They never turn out the way I intend them, and then when I finally fall into a groove, life interferes.

So dear reader (yes, singular), I offer a pictorial update of some of the stuff we've been up to. Honesty above all things. And it won't be pretty...

Per usual, I threw myself "whole hog" into another food/diet routine. That of the Green Drink.

That lasted all of a few weeks. Somehow, my Ninja blender didn't work as well as the ones they show on t.v. One glass certainly felt like a meal, what with all of the chewing I had to do. Anyway, the Ninja blender carafe thingy bit the dust, and there ended my Green Drink experiment.

Then I figured, "Well, why not eat vegan?" I had done it before and even managed to lose 36 lb. So I got a whole mess of books out of the library, including this one.

Um, aside from thumbing through it like one would a coffee table book, I used not a single recipe. In my defense, I did manage to eat vegan anyway, but they were my old tired stand-by recipes, like rice and beans and such.

Then we went to a drive-through safari where the animals got super close.

Then Hurricane Sandy came and took with her our power. Boy was it cold. I spent my days like this...

Only I wasn't really smiling all of the time. It was rapidly approaching a state of delirium by day three.

And then came Halloween. We were all going to go as the Five Deadly Venoms. These guys...

But that involved work that was procrastinated upon. And my papier mache skills are lacking. I still haven't quite figured out how to make the masks right. We made something, but they're probably still wet. How long does it take to dry those things? Anyway, next time, if there is a next time, I'll be more prepared.

Turns out that it wasn't a big deal anyhow as Halloween was canceled due to Sandy. Okay, just the trick-or-treating was canceled, but that's like the same thing in my mind.

At least we got to carve pumpkins.

Of course, it didn't occur to me take pictures of them when they were still fresh.

And then came Christmas. My son, who hasn't believed in Santa in years, still puts out a Santa dish with cookies for, um, "Mrs. Claus." That would be me. Notice the pills on there. Those are my vitamins. Gotta love this kid for helping to keep his Momma healthy. And as for the cookies...

These are the gluten free chocolate chip ones from Trader Joe's. Yep, I didn't make any cookies from scratch for Christmas this year. Of course, the flu hit the kids hard on Christmas, so that's my excuse.

One of my favorite Christmas gifts: A felted owl from my daughter number two! The child is a natural with a felting needle.

And then came our decidedly NOT vegan Christmas day meal of Swedish Meatballs. My son has them with quinoa noodles, and the rest of the clan requested potatoes. I froze 218 meatballs. Excessive, yes, but they got eaten over the course of a week. And they left behind a whole lot of extra baggage on me.

It seemed like the kids were sick for-freaking-ever with the flu. Just when I thought they were getting better, one would spike another fever. It was horrible. And they were miserable. When they finally started feeling a bit better, I was just so relieved that I didn't decline when they made repeated requests for me to craft with them. I'm not particularly crafty, and I have to be in the mood to do it. I guess you can say that I'm a reluctant crafter. What often happens is that they ask and ask, I finally succumb, and then just when I'm enjoying myself, they move onto other things, leaving me on my own. That's exactly what happened when they asked me to try needle felting with them. Halfway through this project, they were clamoring for me to play Scrabble.

But I stood my ground, and finished it first.

It's supposed to be the piggy bunny from the You're Beautiful Korean drama.

And then I got my butt kicked at Scrabble by a twelve year old. My son will not play a word unless it garners him at least 20 points. I play for fun, and don't spend more than a minute or two deliberating my next move. But alas, he needed to take his time to rack up those points. About five hours later, the game was over.

Then we had a nice visit with my 25 year-old nephew. He was forewarned that the kids were just getting over the flu, but he was brave and came anyway...delaying one day to give them some extra time to recuperate. We had a nice visit, even though I was starting to feel under the weather by then, too. I am so lucky to have him in my life. He, his sister, and brothers are just fully awesome. How did I get so lucky?

And check out the totally awesome shirt he gave me. I'm actually wearing it right now.

Yes, I'm a browncoat.

We got the girls some knitting and crochet books for Christmas. And seeing as they are both Asiaphiles, I settled on some amigurumi books. These are knitted, but often crocheted, Japanese stuffed dolls. I was more than a little excited about these myself, and I started to make one, too.

He kind of looks like a turtle, or a baby brontosaurus. But he's meant to be a giraffe when he's done. And yes, he's still not done. I've run into a snag with his legs. I keep making legs, and haven't quite gotten them right. Some were crocheted tightly and are smaller than the ones I've crocheted loosely. Gauge isn't just important for sweaters. It's just as important for amigurumi legs as well.

And then there was a wonderful development. The youngest of my children learned to cook something. The girls have been cooking for a while now, but my son hadn't yet attempted anything at all, that is until he requested a cake out of the blue. You can not just spring a cake request at me. I'm not a particularly skilled baker or anything like that, nor do I love cooking. I cook because I have to. It's a very practical skill, and my meals are tasty, but functional and unostentatious. After several requests that failed to drag me away from what I was doing...can't remember what it was, but I probably had my nose in a book, he took matters into his own hands and made this:

A gluten free coffee cake! Yes, he used a box mix, but it was tasty. And it wasn't burnt to a crisp. In fact, it was delicious, and I kind of felt like a heel afterwards, as it was like he was the little red hen and I was the lazy dog.

"Mom, would you help me make a cake?"

"Not, I!" said the dog...er, um, the lazy Mom.

Then fast forward...

"Who would like to help me eat the cake?"

"I will!" said the lazy, opportunist dog...er, Mom.

Moving on... Occasionally, over the past few months, there was actually some schoolwork getting done.

And some slacking off, too.

And then on February 11, as the whole world knows, Pope Benedict XVI announced that he was stepping down.

This gave me some BIG feelings. Some people were shocked at my reaction. Yes, I cried, so sue me. I was asked, "But aren't you happy for him?" Um, yes...but... Just because someone you love and admire  is going off to pursue something else, however positive it is for said person, doesn't mean that you won't miss them, you know?

Then Dr. Scott Hahn forwarded something on Facebook that he had read about how Pope Benedict XVI made two trips to Pope St. Celestine V's tomb and reliquary during his papacy, and that Pope St. Celestine V was the last pope to step down 600 or so years ago. And of course, that piqued my interest. A friend on Facebook mentioned recently having read a book about the former pope and the circumstances surrounding his resignation, and offered to loan me the book. Fast forward a few days later, and guess what I find delivered on my front steps?

My son's godmother had seen my Facebook post and knew of my interest in the topic, so she went ahead and gifted me with a copy of The Pope Who Quit, by Jon M. Sweeney. How neat is that? I have some nice friends, and my son's godmother, S, is the epitome of nice...and awesome.

The book is fascinating. Oh, the intrigue, and oh, the mess that was the middle ages! And we think we have problems!

And last but not least, there was Chinese New Year. We made the trek out to Chinatown again, braved the crowds, but mostly the frigid weather. Thankfully, we dressed in layers. I cannot do without my heat tech tights from Uniqlo. Those were a lifesaver that day. We went with some old friends this time, and had a blast. Had some tasty Chinese food, and finally bought some Kung Fu shoes for my husband and the kids. All in all, it was a good day.

And that is all, and that's the end.

So Who's Been Spying On Us?

Recently a friend mentioned that television show, "The Middle." At first, I thought she was talking about "Malcolm in the Middle," which I've never seen, but have heard of before. Anyway, what she said about the show piqued my interest, so I caught a few episodes here and there online, and oh my goodness, it was way too familiar. I found myself laughing hysterically more than a few times, and more often than not, it's because I've experienced the same or similar situations in my own life. For those of you out there who have watched the show, you'll realize that there's nothing to be proud of here. Appliances breaking down, sink and tub backing up (ON EACH OTHER)...um, yeah, bathing and washing dishes have to be done with care. Our fridge often refuses to stay shut, so I have to get creative with ways to keep the door from opening. Thankfully, as a homeschooling family, we're never short on items (namely wheeled containers full of supplies) to stick in front of the door. We seldom use our kitchen table for its intended purpose, and it's not because we don't want to, we just can't all fit around it. The last time we tried to have everyone eat at the table, my husband sat on his guitar amp, wedged into a corner between the sink and the air conditioner, and whenever someone had to get up, we all had to get up to move the table, and allow the person out, via chair-stepping no less. Classy.

So yes, there was a lot with which to identify.

Hahaha, and now I just had a flashback to when I was a kid. We'd freak out whenever someone would walk into the bathroom when one of us was showering. And no, we weren't allowed to lock the door. We had one bathroom, none of this 1-1/2 bath business, so we had to remain accommodating, even while showering. Anyway, it always followed that the person showering, would beg the person visiting the john, to please not flush for fear of being scalded to death. It's even a sniglet--thermalophobia! That's actually the only "The Middle"ish type of situation I remember from childhood. Things sort of went downhill since then!

Anyway, as sobering as it was for me to see just how tragically comic such living arrangements and family situations can be, it kind of cheered me up a bit. If anything, I tell myself that living this way builds character. And as for me, either I'll achieve nirvana via the perpetual trying of my patience until I've lost all my worldliness (the little that's left of it), or I'll have an aneurysm at 40.

If this school year has a theme, it’s color coding...

Ever since my kids started homeschooling, or rather, ever since I started schooling more than one child, I have taken to color coding. E was always pink, S was purple, and F was blue. Up until yesterday, the color coding was mainly done in my record keeping. Each kid’s schedules were highlighted in their individual colors. For a while, I did all of my record keeping in just one planner. That was messy, albeit colorful. I briefly tried out a record-keeping software program which didn’t have a color coding option. I’m old school anyway, and preferred writing everything out by hand. So one planner, turned into three, but at least I could color code in them. And yes, that’s an awful lot of writing, and I’m sure that that may seem tedious to many. For me, it’s soothing.

This year, after many many MANY episodes of “this-is-mine-no-this-is-mine,” I decided to color code just about everything—schedules and all school supplies. What couldn’t be purchased in color is initialed. What couldn’t be initialed stays with me. I’m like the keeper of the keys. I’ve debated making my personal stash of supplies available to the kids in a lending library sort of way. Okay, I haven’t really planned on this, but writing it all out makes me wish I’d actually follow through with this idea. After years of homeschooling in a cramped apartment where everything seems to go missing, I’ll hold fast to any idea that gives me a semblance of order.

As usual, each year comes with a whole bunch of new expectations, attempted improvements, and a dose of anticipation. This time it will come with an added bit of color.

3-2-1 Oh Scrap...

Holy moly, am I touchy this week! That, and highly irritable.

To the kids:

No, high pitched screaming, even in jest, does not constitute singing.

For some reason, as delusional as it makes me sound, I thought that the choruses of, "Mom he/she keeps bothering me!" would have died down by now. Instead, it's reached a crescendo. What's up with that? For Pete's sake, you're 16, 13, and 12.

And um, how is it even possible that it's more difficult keeping the apartment tidy now, than when you guys were toddlers?

Something's gotta give.

It's like the stars have aligned to make this week unbearably exasperating. And the summer, as in "summer break" is nearly over, too. And that really stinks.

Maybe we've had way too much unscheduled time this summer, and I think that the exhaustion and dis-ease I've been feeling in the past several weeks has made me less diligent at keeping everyone accountable for things. Actually, I'm sure that these are definitely factors. I'd toss them out for extra obligatory outdoor time (read: Mommy alone time), but wonder if that would be construed as a reward. Yes, yes it would. I'm tempted to channel Mr. Bennet.

"...you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner."

Sigh.

But that would only work with two of them. My middle child has decided that she "doesn't like the sun." I'd have to come up with something else for her. Dishes. Dishes would be perfect.

So yeah, our summer break is soon coming to an end, and frankly, I'm not really looking forward to it. Despite all of the minor annoyances above, I have really enjoyed the summer...as in the heat, the sun exposure, the Summer Olympics(!), everything. Ever since I haven't had any asthma symptoms to speak of, I have been able to not only tolerate, but greatly enjoy, the hot, even muggy weather. That's a first for me. And frankly, I'm already dreading the fall and winter. I think I'll have to get one of those light therapy lamps to tide me over till next summer.

I promise to come back soon to write about our homeschool plans for this coming year with my rising 11th, 8th, and 7th grade students. Should be a crazy busy year.

Back, Just Briefly

No, I haven't abandoned this blog. I've just had some weird health stuff going on, and I think that stress may have contributed to it in one way or another. I just thought I had the flu. My neck and jaw were tight (still are a bit, in fact). I had Intense fatigue, like I've never experienced before. I felt as if I had deadweights on my shoulders. At first I could sleep for 16 hours straight, but then later I had insomnia, with this oppressive heaviness all of the time. While in bed, I felt as if I was being pressed into the mattress, and then came the migraines, dizziness, and vertigo, not to mention the nausea. Just awful. These phantom pains started to turn up...I felt as if parts of my body were sunburned, but they weren't. I held out for two weeks before I succumbed and made an appointment with a doctor. I hesitated, as I haven't exactly had the best of luck finding doctors that listen. Anyway, one doctor's visit turned into five. (And they're still calling me to make follow-up appointments--FAT CHANCE!). I saw a few different practitioners in the office, and everyone had their own guesses as to what was going on with me. My first blood test showed that I was deficient in vitamin d, and that I had "high" cholesterol. A urine sample showed that I apparently had a very high number of white blood cells, so I was first told it was a UTI, which I thought was weird, because I didn't have any symptoms. I was prescribed Cipro, which I wasn't very enthusiastic about, but I was feeling so crappy, that I just agreed to take it. Before starting the antibiotic, I went through another round of follow-up tests. It took a week to get the results back, and it was determined that my hormones were okay, kidney and liver function was okay, and that there hadn't been a UTI after all, so I had taken 6 days of Cipro (500mg, 2x/day) for no reason. I was barely tolerating the antibiotic and it killed my stomach, and led to a whole host of other problems.

All this time, the doctors in this practice were just guessing at what was wrong with me. One thought Lyme Disease, another Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue, or some Auto-immune disease, and yet another thought depression. But these were all guesses. The last doctor I saw sent in a physician assistant with a clipboard questionnaire for depression. Um, I've had depression (well-controlled, by the way!) and this wasn't it. But I'll tell you, the moment this was suggested as a possible cause, I did begin to feel depressed. I felt as if I was being disregarded. And the questionnaire itself was ridiculous. The options for number one were as follows (I had to pick one): (a) I am never depressed. (b) I am depressed most of the time. (c) I am always depressed. (d) My depression is so severe I have lost interest in things I used to enjoy. Seriously? I argued that the questionnaire was flawed, and that the most accurate answer for me would be "I am depressed once in a LONG while." Who isn't? I asked the doctors whether or not all of this could be related to the vitamin D deficiency, and they seemed unsure that such a thing would cause all of the above. And that's when the office phlebotomist shared with me that he had gone through something similar years earlier, and that taking 50,000 IU of D3 each week for a few months, really helped. Once his levels were within normal range, he felt better. He asked how much I had been taking, so I told him I was taking between 2,000 IU and 5,000 IU/day. He told me, off the record, that I'd have to take almost twice that daily to see a difference, so I started to do just that. A quick Google search convinced me that a vitamin D deficiency could in fact cause a whole host of weird symptoms, so I figured there was no harm in trying, and there was no danger of toxicity at those dosages.

The first night, I slept all the night through. The second night, wasn't so great, so it's not like the supplementation is a magic bullet--I have to make sure to get more direct sun exposure as well. This has meant my wearing shorts and short sleeve shirts for the first time since high school, with no sunblock or screens. It'll take some time, but I'm confident that this deficiency was at the core of what was wrong with me. It's funny, too, as I do a lot of supplementation, a la Dr. Linus Pauling, but vitamin D3 wasn't even on my radar. Wishing to accelerate healing, I started researching other stuff to do alongside the D3 supplementation. I found this one discussion about how the Budwig diet's signature recipe (i.e., blending cottage cheese and flax seed oil, with a hand blender, and then topping it with freshly ground flax seeds) has helped more than just people with serious illnesses, like cancer. At least a few people were using it to combat fatigue, so I thought, what the heck, I'll try it. It can't hurt. All I can say is WOW. I wasn't expecting it to work, but it seems to be working very well for me. And it's tasty, too...I blend 4 Tbsp of organic cottage cheese with live cultures, with 2 Tbsp of cold-pressed organic flax seed oil. I add a tsp of raw organic honey, blueberries, and raspberries, then top it with the ground flax seeds. I'm having this 2x/day, and once I'm 100% with my energy levels, I'll go to just 1x/day. It's really neat...this recipe (part of an entire protocol) was something that Dr. Johanna Budwig figured out during her research. Blending the cheese (a sulfur protein) and the oil together, makes it water soluble, and therefore more easily absorbed by the body. I've used flax oil as an anti-inflammatory for years to treat my allergies, but never had this effect using it alone. Omega 3's are good for combatting fatigue as well. There are loads of testimonials from people with all sorts of ailments using this, and seeing the benefit. Many people have even reported that their tumors have shrunk or disappeared altogether. Crazy.

Anyway, I just wanted to drop by with an update, and to share in case any of you are feeling especially run-down. It's worth it to get your D levels checked. I was told that normal ranges are between 30 - 100. I was 20. It's weird though, because I've heard of people who have even lower levels than that, and they didn't seem to have as great a level of fatigue as I did, but perhaps it's all relative. As mentioned above, I had been stressed as well, so that couldn't have helped.

If you are fatigued and you try the supplementation or the Flax seed oil and cottage cheese, let me know if it makes a difference for you!

So We Went to See The Avengers…

…and I didn’t like it.

No, I’m not a film snob. My proof? I enjoyed Nacho Libre and have watched it at least a dozen times. Really.

I was disappointed with The Avengers despite already being predisposed to liking it. For starters, I tend to enjoy just about anything Joss Whedon touches, my favorite being his Firefly series and then his subsequent Serenity film. And lest it be assumed, I’m also not averse to superhero flicks. I didn’t watch all of the individual films leading up to it, but I did watch a few. Iron Man (the first one) and Captain America were awesome. Thor I skipped, because frankly, Norse mythological figures don’t seem to translate well on film. Okay, the truth is that I haven’t seen many film depictions of Thor and Loki, and to be fair, the films depicting them that I have watched have had them visiting modern day America, and that automatically introduces the cheese factor (The Son of the Mask is one such atrocity). Frankly, I think these gods fare better in Asgaard and should stay there. And yes, I know, I know…these characters were a Marvel interpretation of these figures, but still. I guess this is where I admit that I have never been a comics fangirl. I did enjoy reading a few of the Archie comics as a kid, but that’s the extent of it. Oh, and I didn’t see a single trailer for The Avengers, nor did I read a single review, for fear that it would sabotage my film-going experience. I wanted to go in as fresh as possible, and without ridiculously high expectations.

So what didn’t I like about it?

Honestly, I felt it dragged. Most of the film involved just gathering all of the Avengers together.

I still don’t like Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury. Didn’t like him much as Mace Windu either come to think of it.

Wait, were there aliens in this movie? I was all excited about the aliens, but then there weren’t any aliens, i.e., until the very end. I realize that there wasn’t time to go into the backstory here on the Chitauri (this particular race of aliens), but that didn’t really matter to me. In the film, they kind of reminded me of the army of clone troopers in Attack of the Clones, providing a legion of paper targets for our superheroes to crush. For the record, I really disliked the Star Wars prequels.

The problem with getting this many characters together in one film is that you don’t have much time for character development. Ultimately, I felt that there wasn’t enough heart, and this bothered me most of all.

Loki. ‘Nuff said. Too much camp. I enjoy camp. Sometimes. But I like my baddies to be bad, and menacing. Three-dimensional baddies are best. Loki was just plain silly.

Thor. Every time he was on the screen, I kept thinking “Fabio” and his “I can’t believe it’s not butter,” line. Yeah, that was kind of a bummer.

Dialogue that often felt like a formulaic series of “Insert sarcastic quips here.”  Tony Stark had the best lines, obviously, but I was expecting them, and they fell short. Thankfully, the rest of the audience in the showing I attended wasn’t as jaded as I was and laughed heartily and often. Good for them. Really.

The Tesseract. What? Another cube? Is this Transformers or something? I kid, I kid! Actually, I’m aware that this is like the Cosmic Cube and that this is the sort of powerful object that played a part in the comics. And oddly enough, it didn’t bother me at all in Captain America. Go figure. I guess the connection I felt with the story in that instance, kept me from dwelling on it too much. I guess this may be a silly critique, seeing as I knew it would somehow factor into this film, but again, the story at large didn’t capture my interest this time around, and I was just plain uninterested in the darn thing.

The plot. I didn’t care for or understand Loki’s motivation, and the conflict resolution just wasn’t believable. I mean, it’s fantasy, yes, but even in the world of the movie, I was left unconvinced.

The superheroes. On their own, they’re great. I couldn’t help but feel that they lost so much of their, um, uniqueness (?), working as a team.

The Hulk in particular. I was really looking forward to him. And I liked him. I really did. BUT, he didn’t grow larger the angrier he got. And then all of sudden, later in the movie, it seemed like he could control his anger perfectly well, when just earlier in the film he lost it big time on Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow.

There’s more that I didn’t like, but I’ll spare you. Perhaps if I was an avid Avengers comics reader I may have applauded along with the rest of the people at my screening. I am not beyond thinking that perhaps I’m missing something big here. Perhaps I do have to have more of a familiarity with the comics to enjoy this film. Really, the amount of hype and love being strewn about the net with regard to this movie is unreal. But hey, I’m happy for them. There’s nothing worse than alienating diehard fans. Joss Whedon appears to have given the mega-fans exactly what they wanted. I’m obviously in the minority here.

All that said, there were a few bright spots for me. Granted, very few. And here they are:

Mark Ruffalo. I enjoyed him as Bruce Banner. He was infinitely better than Bana and Norton. Infinitely. He was subdued, and funny. Actually, I thought that of all of the superheroes, he was the most likeable.

Jeremy Renner. Okay, I may just like him, period. And I can’t say that I hated him as Hawkeye. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I sort of like the lonely brooder skilled type of superhero. It’s funny though, because after the film, my kids mentioned him as the guy that shot arrows. There wasn’t much time spent on him as superhero Hawkeye, but rather, evil minion Hawkeye. Really, he was kind of the forgotten hero here. Not much screen time, and no story building for him. BUT, I don’t mean to go off on a negative tangent again. I’m just lamenting the fact that there wasn’t more of him. The bits that were in there, I enjoyed though.

Oh, and I liked seeing the Black Widow kicking butt. I love it when women can hold their own.

"Shaolin Family" Experiment Update, Take One

Sheesh! I've been MIA, and I'm sorry. Lots of stuff going on in my head and in my life. Nothing major, but definitely time consuming. Even my precious Korean dramas have taken a back seat. And if that doesn't tell you something, nothing will.

This whole "Shaolin family" experiment (in reference to a previous post in which I shared my lofty goals on how we were to address the needs of our bodies, minds, and spirits) has been tough, yet unbelievably rewarding. Finding time for everything is challenging, and we haven't stuck to it as closely as I would have liked. More often than not, it's the physical/body stuff that gets tossed to the wayside. We really need to work on that. That said, our prayer life is AWESOME. We went from a few prayers said at bedtime and before meals, to (recently) starting Morning and Evening prayer (Lauds and Vespers) using the Shorter Christian Prayer book, followed by a Morning Offering, Trinity Prayer, and Guardian Angel prayer. At noon we say the Angelus, at 3:00 p.m. the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and then we recite the rosary in the evening (as well as Vespers as mentioned before). That sounds like a lot, but it's really been such a great change for us. It has introduced a steady rhythm to our days, one that we had been lacking. And in addition to that, it has also given us all a sense of calm. The peaceful reflection, particularly in the morning, just feels right. We feel more capable of managing whatever the day brings with it. It's kind of hard to put it into words, but my soon-to-be 16 year old said, "Mom, this feels great," and I agree with her.

In addition to the above, my plans for personal spiritual enrichment have also included making adoration once per month, and finding time for more spiritual reading. We made it to adoration on the first Friday of the month, and I hope that this remains consistent. The spiritual reading however, hasn't actually happened yet (aside from the Divine Office that is). Again, I think it's more of a time management issue.

As mentioned above, my plans for how to address the physical/body bits of this whole undertaking are sorely lacking. I've determined that perhaps I was being too ambitious. Understatement alert! Rather than fit it ALL in, i.e., conditioning, tai chi, forms, weight training, etc., I'd do best to just choose one or two on which to focus each day. Being up early for Lauds really helps with the morning alertness factor, and makes me more likely to just "do it already." I also figured that I could give us some days "off" on kung fu class days. Okay, so technically, those really aren't off days at all since we'll be in class later anyway.

As for the mind bit of this lofty plan, things are moving along nicely. Another positive that has come out of this is that I'm realizing just how much time it takes us to do things. Some of those realizations have been positive, others haven't been exactly positive, but rather, enlightening. For instance, I've found that my son is lagging considerably behind his sisters when it comes to written work. He composes well, it's just the physical act of writing that is arduous for him. I can't decide if it's a perfectionist trait, or if he just finds it genuinely difficult. I always knew that this was an issue, but I didn't realize just how much of an issue, or how time consuming a problem it was until now. It doesn't appear to be dysgraphia either. He doesn't reverse his letters, and he's generally neat, with all of his letters being of consistent size. He's also a decent speller, with a broad vocabulary. I find that when he's composing something and writing it as he goes along, he is faster than when asked to recopy what he's written, as in the case of writing a final draft. We'll be taking him in to get his vision checked as well, in case it's a tracking problem, or just that he may need vision correction, and in the meantime, I'm checking online for ideas on how to address this issue (i.e., what I can do here, or where I should go for help with this). What's weird is that he doesn't seem to have a fine motor skill problem either. He's a tinkerer, and he puts models together with small pieces, and he's able to make the tiniest paper airplanes known to man. Seriously! He also handles his utensils properly, even chopsticks. Frankly, I'm confused by all of this. This week, we'll probably be focusing on handwriting, and I just may make it into a game or something as a motivator.

There's more to share, but I'll save it for another post and another day. ;-)

High School, Past and Present

It’s homeschool curriculum sorting and planning time again. Every year, while perusing catalogs, checking in on message boards, referencing online scope and sequence guidelines, as well as state standards to be met, I’m struck with a huge realization: In my own experience of public and parochial school education, all of those guidelines and standards were seldom met.

If I were to list the college preparatory classes I took while in high school, it would surely sound impressive. In four years of high school, I took the following mathematics courses: Algebra I, Geometry, Algebra II, Trigonometry, and Calculus. I took the following science courses: Biology, Chemistry, Anatomy & Physiology/Marine Biology (two semesters of one, followed by two semesters of the other), and Physics. That sounds like a lot of math and science, doesn’t it? And yet, it was a shallow education, and most of my teachers were either ill-equipped to help us, or just so frustrated that they had given up years earlier. Well, with one exception—my Biology teacher, who also taught the combination course of Anatomy & Physiology/Marine Biology, was truly a gem. She was the teacher who stared us down, dumb-founded, when she learned that as freshmen, we had never in our lives had a single geography lesson, and not one of us could name all of the continents. She was the teacher who really took her job seriously, and set out, as much as was possible, to fill in major gaps in understanding, regardless of the subject.

My school was apparently not well funded. We didn’t have textbooks for any of the sciences or for history. We did however, have textbooks for foreign languages and math. These textbooks were old and worn, not a problem in and of itself, but I remember receiving a book that had belonged to one of my sisters nine or ten years earlier, and in the inside front cover, where kids used to list the condition of the book, she had listed it as having been in fair condition. Ten years of food spills, being tossed into lockers, and dropped on the floor, or otherwise abused, had rendered the condition of my copy as incredibly poor. Again, this was not a huge problem. I mean, at least I had a book. But as mentioned, I didn’t have textbooks for the sciences or for history. As a matter of fact, I had never had a history textbook in my life (i.e., up until college). Even in the seventh grade when I had a super enthusiastic history buff for a teacher, we didn’t have books. But that didn’t seem to make a difference. I learned more history in his class than I ever had.

Speaking of history, our state requires three social studies classes for high school graduation. Two of these must be U.S. History I and II. My own experience with high school history was a joke. The football coach taught our class by reading out of the only copy of the history book on hand. The text didn’t lend itself well for this and was so dry, that most of us would just zone out by paragraph four. From time to time, he’d pass out dittos for reference. And that was it. U.S. History II was an even bigger joke. This was one of the teachers who had just given up. He sat at his desk, with a newspaper in hand, and he’d take attendance. That was it, and I’m not even joking. It was quite literally a free study hall period. If you had attended most of the classes, you’d be exempt from the final. I was exempt. He went over what was to be on the final in one day, and that was to 1. List the presidents in order, and 2. List the presidents that were assassinated.

The sciences weren’t as bad. I do remember doing some science, although conceptually my understanding was limited, but was shocked later to learn that there should have been some math involved, particularly when studying Chemistry and Physics. I asked my husband if he remembered Algebra or Calculus based sciences, and he said that he didn’t either, so I’m sure my experience is not unique.

My math experience was horrendous. Algebra I was intuitive enough for me to figure things out on my own. Geometry wasn’t as easy for me. I don’t remember anything about my Trigonometry experience. Algebra II was confusing, and Calculus was impossible. My poor teacher was at a complete loss as to how to help me. When he’d complete writing out the solution to a problem on the board, I’d always say, “I don’t get it.” So he’d erase the entire thing and start all over again. But I still didn’t get it. And there was no Internet to come to the rescue. Obviously, there was some major foundational stuff I was missing. I knew I wasn’t uneducable, and yet I was struggling so much. At one point, after getting back countless calculus tests littered with question marks, the teacher asked to have a student-teacher conference. No parent-teacher conference was suggested, as by then, my Dad had already passed away, and my Mom didn’t understand English anyway. In any case, the teacher asked me,

“Patty, are you planning to go into any of the math or science fields?”

By the time he asked this question, I was sufficiently scared away by this idea, not to mention that I had had my heart set on studying English since the time I was nine years old. My reply of, “No,” seemed to ease his mind. He told me that he didn’t want to see my grade point average suffer, considering I was acing every other class, so he decided to pass me for this reason. And so I passed, but not really. I still feel awful about that. On the one hand, I’m glad I managed to look good on paper, but on the other hand, it just felt rotten to feel like I had just gotten a free pass. Calculus has been the thorn in my side ever since, but I am determined to figure it out, especially now that I’ve had the opportunity to relearn math from scratch. I figure that I should have covered all of the foundational stuff this time around. I hope?

Now, what I’m not mentioning in all of the above is that in addition to all of the issues discussed here, there were oh so many other things we had to deal with as students at this school, including, but not limited to, a whole host of inappropriate student-teacher relationships. At times it really felt as if the motivation to establish these “relationships” trumped the motivation to educate any of us. And I’d be lying if I said that this sort of stuff didn’t contribute at least in part to our decision to homeschool our children. It wasn’t THE reason, but it certainly crossed my mind from time to time.

As for high school today, I can’t tell for sure if or how things have changed. I do think that parents now wouldn’t tolerate a complete lack of textbooks, and generally, I think that parents are more prone to jump in and help their kids when they’re stuck. I keep hearing accounts of parents stating that their kids’ school projects turn out to be school projects for the parents. I don’t remember this ever being the case when I was a kid, but I don’t remember having a very project-heavy education either. My daughter has mentioned that in speaking to friends, she has noted that a lot of their education has been “excerpted.” When I asked her to elaborate, she mentioned that while her friends’ school reading lists sounded fairly impressive, that further discussion illuminated the fact that what they had read were excerpts of the literature, rather than complete novels, and that text books are often skimmed. This wasn’t altogether surprising for me, because I remember that sort of stuff happening when I was in school as well. But it’s easy to forget sometimes, particularly when you’re the one in charge of your child’s education. It’s very easy to set the bar way up high, and then feel like a failure when you haven’t accomplished every single thing you’ve set out to accomplish. And I don’t want to be the parent that says, “Well, they’re not doing as much in school anyway…” because well, I don’t really know what they’re doing, and part of me doesn’t really care. I didn’t set out to home educate my children just so that I could reproduce exactly what others were doing. And yet year after year, I find myself referencing guidelines, just to feel safe and secure that I’ve complied at least enough for us to have achieved equivalency…at least on paper. I know that what’s on paper however, is seldom far from the truth, and it’s hard to quantify my kids’ education in so shallow a manner. And to be fair, I don’t think other-schooled kids’ educations can be quantified this way either. It does make it convenient for the paper pushers though.

Easter Week

It’s the Friday of Easter week and all’s well. I had thought of just giving the kids off through Wednesday, until my Mom scolded me for being too unfair. Of course, the truth is that they get loads of time off anyway, even despite our tendency to work throughout the summer. But my Mom won out. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have an extended break after all, and I’m glad we did because it’s been great.

The kids are actually all passed out again. Yes, it’s the afternoon. It’s what happens when I’m lax about bedtimes, especially when we’re off from school. I did manage to peel them all out of bed by 7:00 a.m. this morning for confession though, and they did manage to stay up until after lunch, so I’m not feeling too guilty about it. They’ll have to go to sleep at a decent time tonight though, especially as we have a long Kung Fu day tomorrow, and an early start on Sunday with CCD followed by mass. By Sunday night, their circadian rhythm should be back to normal. I hope.

In any case, I was disappointed I didn’t get to post anything about our Holy Week and Easter. In short, it was nice. Holy Week is my favorite time of year. Our Italian parish loves its processions, and I love them, too. I had never been involved in any until we became parishioners there. Easter vigil was beautiful as well, and Easter Sunday was nice and low-key, which is just what we wanted. I spent the morning on cooking duty, designated potato-peeling duty to my husband, and delegated some of the tidying up to the kids. It’s so nice when everyone pitches in. Everything gets done in a fraction of the time.

I forgot to take pictures of the kids (seriously, what kind of mother am I?) and most of the meal, but I did somehow remember to shoot the ham. And what a horrible picture it is! I promise you all, it tasted a lot better than it looked. Note to self: Invest in a good camera. That, or better lighting. Both would be best.

Afterwards we transported the meal, a much smaller one than the over-ambitious-on-Patty-terms one I prepared last year to my Mom’s apartment. Less dishes, made transporting easier. I did have to make a mental note that I should really invest in some transport-friendly food containers before the next big holiday. Either that, or I should plan to arrive at my Mom’s place early in the morning and just cook everything there. The problem with doing that is that I’d have to put on a whole Vaudevillian song and dance routine to coax everyone out of the house on time, and of course, then I’d probably have a heckuva time trying to keep my mother from chipping in and helping prepare the meal. She’d definitely try to do too much. She’s been unwell, and the best way to ensure that she takes it easy, is for me to just make everything here.

Hoping all of you are having a wonderful Easter holiday! It ain’t over, ‘till it’s over!

Oh, and I’ll leave you all with the sung Divine Mercy Chaplet just in time for Divine Mercy Sunday. This is my favorite version.

Feeling Gushy

My son was feeling under the weather on Tuesday night, and then woke up with a cold yesterday morning. Now the girls seem to be following suit. No one seemed alert and focused enough to get much done for school, so I gave in and gave them some time off. Within minutes, they were all passed out, and now here I am, the only one up. Sleepy, but up, and sipping some Yerba mate. Sitting at the computer on a quiet afternoon, has inevitably led to some reflection.

I tend to be emotionally reserved in public, and I’m not the sort to go on about how awesome my kids are (at least not regularly), or how much I love them, but there’s just something about these quiet moments that get me all sentimental and gushy. I cannot claim to even fathom why God chose to bless us with such great kids, except that maybe He wanted to teach me a lesson. I never considered myself particularly maternal. I liked kids in general, and of course I loved my niece and nephews, but I was worried that wasn't enough to qualify myself as maternal. When I got pregnant with E, I immediately worried that my “lukewarmness” would make me poorly suited to parent. Could I even love my child enough? Seriously, these were the sorts of things I worried about. Shortly after E’s birth, I soon found that despite what I regarded as “lukewarmness,” I surely did manage to love her, albeit in almost a suffocating way. My love for her was all jumbled up with fear and paranoia should anything ever happen to her. It never occurred to me that that would happen. Never in my wildest dreams did I sit and reflect on how worry would consume my life, as it did just moments after her birth. I had always been a “live and let live” sort of person, feeling that people had a right to their own decisions, and I was comfortable with that. Yet there I was, having to make huge decisions for someone else, and without her consent. At times I felt crippled by doubt. Would she come to hate me for the choices I made on her behalf? After a while, we fell into a routine, and she gradually taught me to parent. And just when we had gotten into a groove, her sister came along. And she was and continues to be a whole new ball of wax. What was right for E, was seldom right for S. And so I continued to learn, taking a few missteps here and there. Then came F, my only son. Another learning curve.

It’s been a few years, and I still worry sometimes whether I’m a good enough Mom. But despite my misgivings, the lesson I have learned is this: I didn’t have to be a perfect parent to produce great kids. What a relief to know that good, no great, can come out of even what’s flawed! And permit me to gush here. I have GREAT kids. They’re kind, polite, thoughtful, curious, talented, empathetic, loving, funny, and always interesting. They greet me every morning with a warm smile and a hug, and nearly every night they gather around me to just “chat some more” before bed. Things could be not so rosy sometimes, but one hug from them makes all of the ugly stuff disappear. Yes, really. And no, of course they’re not immune to having bad days, but thankfully these are fleeting. I’m very grateful, and very blessed.

I may not say it often enough for all to hear, but I love you, E, S, and F! To the moon and back, and then some.

Allowing Kids to Struggle

Recently, a quote attributed to Robert Heinlein has been making the rounds on Facebook.

“Do not handicap your children by making their lives easy.” ~Robert A. Heinlein

I immediately agreed with the sentiment, and passed it along, sharing it with my friends. Unsurprisingly, several moms seemed to appreciate those words as well.

When I read the quote, I took it as meaning that it is okay to step back—in fact, that we should step back, and allow our children to struggle through things. That such a thing would help them develop feelings of self-worth and would make them better equipped to handle the struggles they would likely encounter in “real life.” I believed that it meant that by doing so, children would become more resilient and capable adults. When I considered “struggles,” I thought more about life skills, like the ability to keep house, make a meal, do laundry, handle interpersonal conflicts, tie their own shoes, and sort out their own problems (within reason).

It hadn’t occurred to me that others would use this quote to justify spanking, or as proof positive that children today have an elevated sense of entitlement. I noticed how some discussions sparked by this quote would degenerate into children bash fests, claiming that kids today don’t know how easy they have it. That kids today feel they are entitled to things like designer clothes and the latest greatest technology. I admit to being shocked by this interpretation because come on, really? Am I to believe that living without a cell phone or a Juicy Couture shirt is a struggle, or a sacrifice? If a child feels that such a thing is a necessity, it’s because, and I’m going out on a limb here, the parents have probably given in to their every whim before, and hence they’ve gotten used to getting all they’ve ever wanted from the get go.

But please, living without material things is hardly a struggle, or a sacrifice. One can argue that living without such things can be inconvenient, but it is not an inconvenience of monumental proportions. What is a struggle is learning right from wrong, making mistakes and learning to deal with the consequences, going without not just what you desire, but at times even what you need. Struggling is not knowing what to do, but having the wherewithal to persist, amidst repeated failures and even the fear of embarrassment.

It always bothers me when children are viewed as entitled brats. If they are, it is seldom their fault. But to judge them across the board bugs me in a huge way. Children are some of the most empathetic, unselfish people I know. They are also among the least jaded and the most humble. They are capable of identifying injustice better than many adults out there, and often have a wonderful positive outlook as to how these injustices can be remedied.

Stepping off my soapbox now.

The Wannabe Shaolin Family

It’s not unlike me to get all carried away with making big plans. Often the instigating factor is a cool news article, a message board discussion, or a Youtube video. One time I saw something about making your own soap. That’s not a huge deal, right? But within minutes, it wasn’t just a bar of soap I was envisioning. I was envisioning my own line of soaps. Then there was the time I wanted to be a polyglot after watching videos of Tim Ferriss speaking about a half dozen languages. This is me we’re talking about here, so of course I zeroed in on the most difficult language ever. I watched one video lesson for Mandarin, and got so anxious over the enormity of learning such a difficult language, that I abandoned the idea. I’d still love to learn Mandarin, just not right now. We are already learning Greek, Latin, and Korean in our homeschool, but those don’t inspire nearly as much anxiety in me as Mandarin does. At least they’re all phonetic. And then there was that time when I joined Flylady’s housekeeping email list, only to burn out by day two. I haven’t entirely abandoned Flylady though. I just found her book much less anxiety inducing than all of those emails I was receiving.

Now lest it be assumed that I have absolutely no stick-to-it-tiveness, that’s not the case either. I do stick with things that matter…like the homeschooling, which I’ve been committed to for eleven years. For a lot of other things however, I think I’m part magpie, getting perpetually distracted by anything shiny. Whether this new plan we’re envisioning really matters enough to me, and to us as a family, or whether it is just another shiny thing to distract us, is still to be determined. That said, it’s something the kids say they want to do as well (read: it’s not just my idea), and I feel good about it. And that’s not exactly the feeling I had with all of the soapmaking- polyglot-Flylady stuff.

It all started as a discussion with the kids over working on improving ourselves, stemming from an earlier discussion we had had on Lent. We talked about leading a lifestyle that would focus on improving our bodies, our minds, and our spirits. The more we thought about it, the more our ideas started to resemble a simplified, hybrid form of Benedictine monasticism replete with Shaolin conditioning. It’s so funny that my kids are sometimes so much like me; it’s crazy. We all seem to be attracted to the idea of asceticism. We find the idea incredibly romantic. Now of course, I don’t mention asceticism here to suggest that that is our intention. That would be a way bigger plan than the one we had envisioned. In reality, our plan is simply to find our balance—a healthy balance. One that would help keep us focused on things that already matter to us. The key here is simplicity.

We figured that we already had the “mind” aspect covered, what with homeschooling already being such a large part of our days. Granted, there is always room for improvement. Autonomy on all things school related continues to be an issue. While I can trust my teen to work well independently most of the time, the younger two still need a bit of prodding along. My presence has an almost magical effect on their output. If I’m as far away as the next room, they’re less productive. The plan is to schedule well-organized time blocks, and set clear initiatives and goals to meet each day.

The “spiritual” aspect has had a bit of a spike in recent weeks, thanks to it being Lent. There has been more stuff going on at church, and more related discussions about relevant spiritual issues at home. But as with the “mind” stuff above, there is still ample room for improvement here as well. I’m thinking more time spent on meditation and reflection on the rosary, the stations of the cross, the Divine Mercy chaplet, etc. More silence would definitely be welcome as well. I figure that at the very least it would be an exercise in self-control, for all of us! Our plan here is to start the day simply, with a Morning Offering, and then move on from there.

The “body” aspect of this glorious plan of ours is quite possibly the part that needs the greatest overhaul. We’ve already been striving to eat healthy, cut our sugar intake, and avoid overly processed foods while out of the house. Our fitness levels, while better than they were once upon a time, are still lacking. On our Kung Fu nights, we do okay, but our days off are primarily spent on sedentary activities. The plan here is to incorporate more Kung Fu. We would want to include daily conditioning (my son is petitioning hard for iron body training), as well as stretching, stance drills, and forms. Tai chi and Qi Gong would work best in the morning, while the other higher intensity work would fit best in the early afternoon.

The kids and I brainstormed ways on how to fit it all in, and while we have a rudimentary idea as to how our schedule would look, it hasn’t been put into practice yet. It doesn’t look crazy or outlandish, or even all that difficult to follow (I think). I’m sure that many families do a lot of the same, with some subtle differences. I’m envisioning a Catholic family that sends their children to school, where they also partake in sports as an extra-curricular activity. Their children would already be getting a lot of what I describe above, so in that sense, this is not a novel idea at all.

I’m thinking that after a bit of tweaking, next week will be our first full week trying this out. We’ll either feel healthier and stronger in body, mind, and spirit, or we’ll burn out. I’m hoping for the former. If not, it’s back to the drawing board. This is not an idea I’d want to just abandon.