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.

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.

"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.

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.

“Ethical Nudity,” or Good Old Catholic Therapy

So I had a couple of bad days having to deal with a difficult person. Surprise, surprise! Obviously, that’s what led to my last blog post. And yes, that was a facetious list on how NOT to deal with such people. I was attempting to cheer myself up by making light of the situation, and it helped, for a little while at least. Consider that my blog therapy. For anyone curious as to what I really did to deal with the situation, it was fairly simple, albeit somewhat misguided. I went into major avoidance mode, at least until things blew over. It wasn’t incredibly difficult at all. I observe a certain level of avoidance anyway with this particular person, so keeping my distance just comes naturally. The avoidance was and continues to be a good thing. Healthy even. What wasn’t healthy however, was feeling all angry and bristly inside. While I managed to bite my tongue and take the “high road” in this person’s presence, I went the other route in the privacy of my own home, in my head, and in my heart. I complained to my husband, I made snarky remarks (some were made on here for all to see), and I sighed deeply and loudly at the mere mention of said person’s name. I just wasn’t myself, and I was starting to feel rotten. I don’t like holding grudges. It’s completely counter to my nature, and it serves no purpose. And while I believed that I had already forgiven this person in my heart, I didn’t really have that sense of closure yet. And no amount of making light of it was going to end it either, despite the laughs.

It was immediately obvious that I’d benefit from going to confession. I like to refer to it as Catholic therapy. You walk in all broken, bearing the burden of your faults, and come out brand new. I love that. The line to confess was long, so I had plenty of time to go over my examination of conscience, and reflect on my sins. While I was on line, I became distracted by the sound of a woman's voice at the front of the church. I had seen her before at least a dozen times. She’s a fixture at our church. Her life has been hard, plagued by addiction and mental illness. People kept kindly urging her to keep her voice down, and she would try her hardest to remember, and then her voice would just gradually get louder again. Then she decided to walk over to our line (it was a large penance service, so there were four lines to choose from), and she zeroed in on me immediately, asking if she could cut in before me. I was about sixth in the queue, and of all of those present, she chose me to approach. I told her that of course she could cut in, and made room for her. In between showering me with praises, frequent hugs, “I love you’s”, and kisses for allowing her to cut in line, she proceeded to detail random little vignettes about the horrors of her life. Immediately, I felt guilty over, quite frankly, the insignificance of my own problems, and particularly for having allowed them to consume me the way they had. So what if I had a less than ideal encounter (or series of encounters) with someone. It was apparent that this woman’s every waking moment was a torment. Her "difficult person" is more than just one entity. I could see in her eyes that she was getting overwhelmed with sadness over the stories she was relating. And when she was most upset, she proceeded to tell me how she wasn’t worth Christ’s sacrifice or forgiveness. Those words just shot straight into my heart. Who could be more worthy? Here she was humbling herself, acknowledging the faults that had in one way or another contributed to her monumental problems, while others so easily turn and blame God for much less. She was taking the responsibility, even though from her story, it was apparent that there were other contributors. I found myself telling her, over and over again, that of course she was worthy of forgiveness. Me! The very person who had felt so rotten and unworthy just earlier. On a good day, it's easy to know we all matter and that we are worthy of forgiveness, but a bad day clouds everything. It was serendipitous to have had that encounter with her. It softened me. I had still been holding a bit of a grudge; I just hadn’t realized it before. There’s nothing more humbling than coming face to face with someone whose problems dwarf your owm. What a weird, roundabout way to feel grateful for the cards you’ve been dealt.

After her confession, she was beaming. Were all her problems fixed? Of course not, but I believe she was given the grace and the hope to endure a bit longer. I don't know how much longer. A lot of it depends on her. Addiction is huge, and awful, and insidious, so she has a very hard road ahead of her. She will need spiritual maintenance. We all do.

And then it was my turn to bear it all. My turn to say, "Hey, I've been a real jerk, and I'm really sorry for it." As I think about it now, it was probably one of my best confessions ever, thanks in large part to the humbling encounter I had with that woman. The priest was very kind and responsive, and he even chuckled a bit at something I said (a relief to me as I took it as a sign that he's heard much worse). He offered me the best advice, and helped me to put things in perspective. And then I was absolved, and the weight was lifted. I found myself, as I often do after confession, feeling deeply relieved and settled for the first time in weeks. There is no downgrading the effect bitter feelings have on a person, and nothing beats the peace of finally letting them go, and in this case, really knowing you’ve been forgiven for them. And so I was repaired, for a little while at least, until I find myself stumbling again.

This story reminded me of a talk we recently listened to by Archbishop Fulton Sheen on how the repression of sin affects our minds and bodies. And that made me think of the many people out there who don't take part in frequent confession. I'd be a mess, obviously. Allowing my anger to fester was a form of repression, because it meant I was hyper-focused on someone else's guilt whilst downplaying the role I was playing in not just letting it all go. The longer I held onto it, the more bitter I felt, and the snarkier I became. Others repress guilt by over-scheduling, keeping themselves busy to the point that they haven't a moment to spare to think of where they've gone wrong. Things just keep getting swept under the rug, with the hope that they'll disappear. But they don't. They just build up. And still others repress their sins by pointing fingers, placing the blame elsewhere.

Today it seems that no one really wants to discuss sin, as if it doesn’t even exist. It may seem unpopular, or medieval to many. Often it’s an issue of semantics. It’s okay to say you’ve got “issues” or "problems" but not okay to say you’re a sinner. Archbishop Sheen, in his talk (see below), suggests that sin is at the core of most of our unhappiness…that our unhappiness can be tied to our incapacity to bear responsibility for our thoughts, actions, or inactions, and that the build-up of guilt can manifest itself in a number of ways, physically and emotionally, at any time throughout the course of our lives. I believe he’s right. We allow our guilt and righteous anger to fester, and then unable to contain it, we act out by continuing to make poor choices. Guilt has sort of gotten a bad rap, and that's unfortunate. Guilt has a very humane purpose, particularly when acknowledged, addressed, and ultimately let go. It is the sign that someone has a working conscience. There’s nothing scarier than someone without a conscience. Pinocchio, as cute as he was, would have been the stuff of nightmares for me if Jiminy Cricket weren’t around to help keep him on the straight and narrow. (Okay, maybe I just think marionettes are creepy, but that’s beside the point). And I’m sure all of us, at one time or another, have questioned the perceived lack of conscience in others, particularly when it leads to horrible acts of violence. The recent news story of the young boy being set on fire on his way home from school is one such example. Thankfully for us, conscience can (and often does) kick in after the fact, and I hope that this is the case with the perpetrators of that particular crime. It’s sad enough to think of the victim in this story, without adding the brokenness of the perpetrators into the mix.

Now about that “Catholic guilt…”

There have been times in my life when upon learning that I’m a practicing Catholic, people have commented on the so-called issue of “Catholic guilt,” as if guilt is something unique to Catholicism. Obviously, it’s not. There’s even a Wiki article about it, and apparently it’s an idea still so current, that it even warranted an entry in Urban Dictionary. It’s my guilt that invariably leads me to returning my shopping cart to its designated area, especially on a rainy or blustery day when I’d much rather just shelter myself in the car. Identifying as Catholic has little to do with it. It does have to do with good old common courtesy and a smattering of guilt at the thought of some teenage employee catching a cold because he's spent an hour returning dozens of carts, including the one I had used.

I'm not addressing Catholic guilt in the form of scrupulosity here. That's a whole other ball of wax, deserving of its own post, better left for another time. Besides, if you're scrupulous, you don't need to be sold on the idea of confession. You're already going. Often.

Anyway, I’ve digressed enough for one day. I’ve added Archbishop Sheen’s talk below for those willing to give it a listen. It’s a good one, although I must say, I’ve never heard a bad or even mediocre talk of his. I doubt one even exists. And boy was he funny, too, and I do appreciate a bit of levity.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4


*Edited to change a word or two (or three).

A Series of Awkward Events

Hello. My name is Patty, and I am no stranger to awkward situations. I’m sure that I contribute to the awkwardness at least half of the time, but the incidents over the past few weeks however, were totally not my fault. I think.

Scenario number 1: Running into someone you know outside of the environment in which you’re accustomed to seeing them

If you’re like me, and you associate people with specific places, then it’s always weird to run into them elsewhere. This is kind of like seeing your high school French teacher shopping at Victoria’s Secret. But even running into someone you know from church at the grocery store can be awkward, particularly if you know them well enough to greet them, but know little else about them. Worse still is when you exchange pleasantries and say your good-byes in aisle 11, only to run into them a few minutes later in aisle 13. Awkward.

In any case, we had a similarly awkward experience while on line in the grocery store a few weeks ago. One of my kids spotted an acquaintance of ours standing in the next line. Once spotted, and eye contact was made, my family politely greeted them. Their reaction was priceless.

Here’s the play-by-play:

My family: Oh, hi guys! {Big smiles}

The others: Oh, hi. {Then they proceeded to turn away, facing forward, and completely ignored us the whole time they were on line).

And it was a longish line, and there we were, standing fairly close to each other in silence as we each waited for our turns at our respective registers. Awkward.

The thing about these awkward encounters is that you always end up wondering if you ever did or said something off-putting in your whole history of knowing the person or people involved. I don’t think we did, but I don’t have a crystal ball either.

Frank, my husband, is the best at coming up with possible scenarios, all in an effort to place the blame squarely on the other party, thereby making me feel better and assuring me that I’m not repugnant after all. Here were some of his explanations:

1 – They were caught red-handed, buying equipment for a homemade bomb.
2 – One or more of them suffer from halitosis.
3 – A combination of numbers one and two.

And yes, these explanations actually did make me feel better.

Scenario number 2: Seeing someone you know since childhood and having an awkward exchange, as if you don’t even know each other at all

So the other day, upon leaving Target, I thought I spotted an old school acquaintance. My eyesight has been so poor lately (am overdue for an upgrade on my glasses), that I refrained from shouting my hello from several feet away. When close enough to be certain that it was who I thought it was, I enthusiastically shouted out my greeting. Yes, shouted.

Play-by-play:

Me: Hey, how ya doin’?!?!?

Childhood friend: {With odd sort of smile/smirk on face} Hey…

And he proceeded to walk briskly past me.

Seeing as my voice volume was already at eleven, my response of “That was weird,” rang out for all to hear. Awkward.

My husband’s explanations:

1 – The guy very obviously had just sharted (classy, I know), and was making his way to the Target bathroom asap. (Have I mentioned that my husband and I have an eight-year-old's sense of humor)?
2 – He had just had an argument with his wife over his frequent salutation of uber hot women in Target parking lots, and then I come along and add extra fuel to the fire. (Um, I really loved this one, as I get to pretend I’m hot).
3 – A combination of numbers one and two. Obviously.

Scenario number 3: Talking to, or touching a complete stranger, thinking that he or she is your spouse, sibling, or child. Okay, this one is totally my fault, and as flighty as I am, it’s happened to me several times.

So we were at a close-out sale, and this guy, who I thought was my husband, was flipping through the posters on that flipper poster thingie that’s usually attached to a wall. I proceeded to comment on the posters he was going through.

Play-by-play, although I can’t vouch for the exact wording:

{Approaching poster area…}

Me: Oh brother, what is it about men and squat posters? {This was actually just a joke meant towards my husband, as there were no such posters there. Then I proceeded to step in front of the guy and flip posters, without any regard to him and his poster needs.}

Perplexed stranger guy: What?

Me: {Feeling of dread overcomes me as the unfamiliar voice registers and I turn to face a total stranger…} Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. {Quickly depart. And I do mean quickly.}

Now that was awkward. And embarrassing.

So for all of you lamenting your or others' awkwardness, you are not alone. Feel free to share your stories, and make me feel better. Think of it as therapy.

Good Days and Bad Days

Starting this blog a while back was a huge decision for me as I am generally a very private and guarded person. Being open online is difficult, and while I think I've developed a thick enough skin to handle any potential criticism, particularly after years of online activity, I always knew that I would struggle with the whole being guarded thing. There's nothing necessarily wrong with being careful with what and how much you share except that it can feel almost duplicitous, seeking to always share the good days over the bad ones. Oh, and not to mention that it can get boring really fast. And this sort of ties in to what I wrote in my last post, about reassessing the content of this blog. It was quickly apparent to me that I was being fairly one-sided about my life, not wishing to show any vulnerability, or anything "unpretty" whatsoever. But how is that helpful to anyone? Including myself? Really, I'm most in need of writing when I do feel vulnerable. So what's the point in keeping a blog (not that I've been doing a very good job of it lately) if I can't just let my hair down and tell it like it is. Sure, I've shared a tiny bit of my struggles with health related stuff, but all of that is fairly innocuous. But even with regard to that topic, I've refrained from saying much, not wishing to come off as too fixated on it. My family is of Cuban descent, and there is nary a conversation to be had among us that doesn't expound on a laundry list of ailments. I know that I could do similarly, as the propensity to fly off the handle on all issues related to health is embedded in my DNA. Oh, if only you all knew how much I self censor! I could win an award or something.

Hmmm...this is starting to come off like a "coming out" post, and perhaps it is.

Wait. Does this mean she's going to just blab on and on about aching backs and (insert ailment here)?

No.

It means that I will try to share more of myself. More of my opinions, and thoughts on a number of things, not just homeschool-related, but more general stuff, too. It means that I'll try harder not to skirt around topics that are really very important, and personal to me. I'm thinking that these will primarily be issues of faith, family, education, and societal mores, to name a few. I probably won't get into politics, because I don't feel knowledgeable enough in that area, regardless of my often having fundamental, yet unsophisticated opinions on a number of political issues. But trust me, there will be fluff. Hopefully a lot of it.

I don't do small talk very well, and I feel as if until now, that's exactly what I've been doing here. I have difficulty relating to people if I can't have meaningful conversations with them, and if I can't at least share meaningful posts here, then I have no business blogging at all, you know? It's all about what I share. And it's not always going to be pretty. But sometimes it will be.

This all reminds me of something that happened a few years ago, and I swear it's relevant. Let me 'splain. I was having a particularly bad day. The apartment was a mess, I had at least a half dozen incomplete projects strewn all over the place, we all woke up late and didn't get an early start on school, which made everything else lag behind schedule, including our meals. The sink was packed solid with dishes from the night before because no one stepped up to do them, and I was just exhausted physically and emotionally, even upon just waking up. Then for whatever reason, I chose to just escape and sneak a few minutes on Facebook. Big mistake. A friend had just posted a series of photos of her home. They were gorgeous shots. It looked to me as if you could eat off of her floor, it was so clean. Oh, now I remember, it was one of those "Day in the life" photo streams people would post from time to time, where they would take pictures of what they do on their "typical" day. Well, this typical day was extraordinary, or at least it felt that way to me. It really was. Sure, it also included some mundane stuff, like laundry and errands, but oh, everything was just so beautiful. Even the laundry pile was lovely. (Ours is often spilling out of the hamper, and onto the floor, in a non-lovely way). There was one photo of a huge living room, with a few toys and other children's belongings on the floor, and a caption that read something along the lines of, "Now to clean up this mess!" That's when I turned my attention away from the beauty onscreen and took a gander around my apartment which looked more like a post-apocalyptic scene from some poorly made film. And then it happened. I got depressed. I feel like I have to explain myself here. It's not that I'm not super duper happy for my friend who is decidedly not as clueless as I am when it comes to housework and the like. It's just that noting the contrast at that very moment, when I felt most vulnerable, was just crushing. So, I commented on the picture. "Wow, I'd give anything to have your mess. Want mine?" Then she replied something like, "Well, you should have seen it before!"

Wait. Does this mean that she tidied up before she took the picture, or by "before" did she mean the week before? I didn't pursue it any further, but it left me pondering the possibilities. Suffice it to say that I try to take what I see online with a grain of salt. Perhaps this woman was more like me than I may have realized. We take pictures of pretty things, and quite often choose to remember or relate what is best. Evidence of this is everywhere, what with magazines routinely photoshopping and editing photos to death, thereby creating an unattainable image of what is "generally" considered beautiful. And yes, many of us do the same, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Heck, had I done the whole "day in the life" photo essay, I know for certain I would not have chosen a "bad day." You see, I'm no better! And why is this anyway? I mean, while there would surely be those who'd view the pictures critically, I'm certain there would be just as many others out there like me who would view them and relate.

I consider myself to be an imperfect perfectionist, probably the worst kind of perfectionist there can be, but I hope to be courageous enough to share the good, the bad, and even the ugly with all of you, even when it's hard to do so. And believe me, it is a lot of the time.

Back Again

It wasn't my intention to make this blog completely private (for those of you who may have tried to access it recently). My initial plan was to reassess what I wanted as content, and perhaps redesign the look of it all. I had intended for this blog to be mostly homeschool related, but in looking over my posts, they've been all over the place in content. It's my life, and it's eclectic, and we still homeschool, but it's not all that we do, so I've come to terms with that enough to just let it go. So what should have taken no longer than a few days, turned into a few weeks, but it was all for naught as I never got around to doing what I had wanted to do in the first place. But then I got so distracted with other stuff that I never got to do any of the above.

What I did manage to do however, was spend a lot of time with my family over the Christmas holiday. My husband took off a nice chunk of time from work, and while it was crazy for the first few days (days just before and after Christmas), the subsequent days were heavenly, with time spent just lounging around, playing boardgames, video games, watching films, chatting, and just generally enjoying each other's company. A large amount of time was also spent watching Korean dramas, thanks to my fangirl daughters. I'm such an addict. I've watched four dramas so far, and I have determined that I have no self-control, opting to watch them complete in one or two sittings. Seeing as they're all in Korean with English subtitles, I've decided that I will NOT feel guilty about it as all of those hours would surely just add to our Korean studies. I think I've picked up a whopping 10 or so new words, so it's nothing to write home about, but no matter.

Oh, and can I just say that I suck at coming up with labels to add to my posts? It's my own fault as I still haven't quite figured out to stick to one topic. Well, I'll just have to learn as I go along. For those of you patient enough to come along for the ride, thanks!

Title? I Don't Need No Stinkin' Title!

I can't believe it's been over a month since I last updated this blog. I've wanted to. I have! As usual, I've been keeping busy. If my laptop were still in working order, I'm sure I'd have updated earlier than this. Sitting at the desktop often feels like torture for me. I miss the portability.

Quick run-down...

CCD started, and I have a smaller class of first communicants this year. The first grade class is HUGE though, so I'll be kept on my toes next year. I wonder if I can petition to have the class divided then. It's so much easier with a smaller class. I find that I'm getting way more covered during each session. I want to make a connection with each of the kids, but when the classes exceed twenty or so students, I spend more time on classroom management than I do actually teaching the faith. I have a really great bunch of kids this year, too. They're asking great questions, and are really absorbing a lot each week. Again, it makes a huge difference that there are so few of them. It's so much more manageable!

Last week was our first break from homeschooling. It was welcome, but it didn't feel like much of a break. I think we only really rested one day. Note for next break: DO NOTHING, or close to nothing. ;)

Sometime in September we went into the city, and stopped by Trinity Church where they had a display of items and photographs related to 9-11. (Thanks go to my sweet niece for taking these pictures).

Ten years later, and I still have difficulty wrapping my mind around what happened that day. I found that I had to just tear myself away from the exhibit as it was just too overwhelming for me. Ten years ago, and a few months before the planes hit, I had been worried and upset that my husband had lost his job (right across from the towers), but on that particular day, I regarded the job loss as a blessing. Seeing the images of the people lost that day, just bore a hole into my heart, and I couldn't get out of there soon enough. Again, it was so overwhelming.

The visit to Trinity Church was followed with a pleasant, and welcome romp through Chinatown. We had a few items to purchase to satiate our Kung Fu addiction. My purchases consisted of Chinese liniments. Not terribly exciting, I know. But we did manage to pick up a rubber knife for kali practice. And there were a few other purchases, such as Jay Chou posters for my teen, and a pair of sneakers for me (a gift from my husband, who no doubt was tired of being kicked by my old sneakers. The old ones had a broken zipper on them, and made them extra dangerous. He gets kicked when we practice of course, so it's allowed).

After Chinatown we went to the Whitney Museum with my niece to check out the Cory Arcangel exhibit. I didn't really "get it," but I seldom understand what is regarded as modern art. It was more like a pop culture exhibit, and I did appreciate it in that sense. It seemed a rather loose interpretation of the word "Art." But what do I know? In any case, Arcangel (cool name, though) is a digital artist. But his pieces are quite unlike anything I've ever seen before. It's kind of difficult for me to describe, but one piece was made up of a regular television playing back-to-back related clips from Seinfeld. Another piece had a chronological array of bowling video game clips--the first showing a very rudimentary, highly pixelated early version, and at the end came a more detailed, better resolution, more modern clip of a bowling video game. These were all projected onto a huge wall. There were two benches situated before the wall, and seeing as we walked at least a gazillion blocks that day, it was oddly relaxing to just sit there and gaze at the series of clips which played on a continuous loop, with the echoing of electronic noise.

Let's see...what else?

Oh, yeah, school. It's been great! Yes, still! I think a lot of this is due to using the right materials. I'll have to write another blogpost listing our new curriculum picks, which reminds me--I have to update the items listed as our "current" resources here as well. The big winners so far this year? Campbell's "Exploring Life" for Biology, and Larsen's "The Art of Argument." I've also got to add the Teaching Company's DVD lectures on the Iliad and the Odyssey. Dr. Vandiver is very knowledgeable, and I find that her insight greatly enhances our enjoyment of these great epics. Good stuff!

As for other stuff...

My girls were so excited when they heard that their favorite k-pop acts were playing a free show near us. We didn't realize we'd need tickets though, but thankfully we managed to pick some up on the last day of distribution. There was a two-day Korean festival, in part, celebrating Korea's 20 years as being part of the UN.

Saturday we spent a large chunk of the day there, just wandering around, and visiting all of the booths.

Yesterday was the concert, and it was a LONG day.

One daughter was lucky and got to see her favorite of the bandmates.

My other daughter wasn't so lucky, as her favorite had a schedule conflict and couldn't make it.

It was uncharacteristically hot for this time in October, and it was oh-so-crowded, too. I thought I was going to pass out when I got stuck in the middle of a crowd. But the girls had a great time, so I couldn't be happier. They were able to see B2ST, SHINee, 2PM, 4Minute, TVXQ, SISTAR, and several other soloists. Even the Village People were there. They have sure gotten a lot of mileage out of their act! We all had a great time, even though the start of the day was kind of crazy.

I just have to add that I'm so proud of myself though, because I really have learned to control my breathing, and keep myself from getting anxious. On a hot day like yesterday, that couldn't have been more useful. This morning however, I've been coughing up bits of blood. I'm thinking that it's due to yesterday's over-exertion, particularly as I don't appear to have any other symptoms other than some chest tightness. I had been meaning to update earlier that after the antibiotic regimen, I have been much, much better. But I honestly don't think that's all there is to it. I have been high-dosing Vitamin C, and am taking a daily multi-vitamin, as well as vitamins A, B, and E separately. The result is that I haven't gotten as much as a sore throat in the past few months. That's a new record for me! I've been more energetic, too, and it feels so good.

School, a New-Used Vehicle, and Other Stuff

Again, I've gone and neglected this blog. For my loyal reader (yeah, singular--you know who you are! lol), I am sorry.

It's our third day back at school and already it's been like a roller coaster. The kids seem content enough to be back at it full time, but I'm still getting over the end-of-summer blues. Things were so relaxed and stress free for a while there, and then, BAM! Because of this, we all decided to take a few weeks off of the kung fu. And then the hurricane interfered with our plan to finally attend class the week before last, and of course, last weekend was a long holiday. So we've been out even longer than we had anticipated. It's been nice to be off. But the longer we delay, the harder it will be to return.

And then CCD starts up again this coming Sunday, and for some reason, I'm irrationally stressed about that as well. This will be my fifth year teaching CCD. This year, like the last, I'll be teaching the 2nd graders preparing for first penance and Holy Eucharist. We're using a new curriculum again this year, so that's another program I have to adjust to. I've thumbed through the text, but I've yet to really sit and read through a series of lessons to get a feel for it. I think I'm most worried about getting it all done. We use large school editions of the texts, rather than the smaller, "intended-for-once-a-week" manuals, and I suspect that this is because many teachers are able to get through the shorter books at a clip, leaving these teachers with nothing to cover for the last few weeks of the year, whereas I tend to stray from the text all of the time. I never feel that the text explains things well enough to foster a deeper understanding of the Faith. I know I can teach the material with just the shorter volumes, and expound on topics as necessary. But frequent straying from the larger text isn't really feasible long term, as I'd just get further and further behind. It's expected that we get through an entire chapter per week, and we only have about a one hour session (not counting time spent in choir practice). Add into this the time spent just on classroom management, it just seems like a tall order for me, especially with classes that sometimes exceed 20 students. I will have a teacher's aide this year, so I'll have some help on that front, thank God!

But yeah, about school...

I'm trying something a bit different this year. I'm starting off with the younger two. So far, this appears to have been a good idea. They're highly distractible, so getting them done nice and early has been a positive change. Rather than having everyone rotate times spent with me, it's just a nice long block with the younger two first, and then one-on-one time (mostly troubleshooting problem areas) with my teen. She spends most of her morning working independently...viewing her math lesson on the computer, taking notes from her textbooks, working on her language copybook (mostly her Latin paradigms per the Dowling Method), and reading her literature selections. We're still trying to work out little things like meeting deadlines, and learning to more efficiently schedule time spent working independently. This is a big challenge for her. It's almost like she sees her morning as this long, endless stretch of time, and doesn't realize the need to schedule her time appropriately in order to accommodate everything. I've suggested time limits for certain tasks, but she hasn't seemed to take to them just yet. I'm -->thisclose<-- to just handing her a wind-up timer to see if that would help. I suppose it would. We'll see. I don't think my expectations are irrational, and neither does she, so at least we're on the same page on that note.

Let's see...what else?

Oh, my husband's friend at work just gave us his mini-van. It seems his sister recently bought a new car, and passed her old one along to him, so we luckily became the happy recipients of his old mini-van! It's lovely, too! And we couldn't be more grateful, particularly as the Banshee, i.e., our little eyesore of a vehicle, has seen better days. We're just relieved to have a vehicle large enough to accommodate us all, with enough room to spare so that we are able to take my Mom out when she's up for taking a spin. The kids are over-the-moon excited over it, as it's all one even color (LOL!) and it has a CD player. That's like cutting edge for them. Sad, but true. Our older vehicles only had tape decks (this blog is called "Ye Olde School" for a reason after all), neither of which worked. And the radio in the Banshee was temperamental, too, and would only go on for my husband. I'm just delighted that our coming and going won't be obnoxiously heralded by loud screeching anymore. That got old really quick. The kids found it amusing some of the time, but most of the time, I'm sure it embarrassed them. My repeated assertions to them that routinely dealing with such annoyances would only build character, started to fall on deaf ears. They were definitely ready to move on, and I can't blame them. I was too.