COME AND FOLLOW ME

I am heading  into the new blog.

If you would like to follow me, in all my new anonymity, please e-mail me at

mamaaidan@gmail.com  and I'll give you my new blog address.

I hate to shut anyone out, but if you go to my parish, or see one or more of my children regularly here in Lansing, I ask you not to come along.  It is just that the children have begged for their privacy.

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MAYBE THIS IS ALL I MEANT, REALLY.....

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THE THEME......

I have learned now that while those who speak about one’s miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more. C.S. Lewis

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HAVE A NICE DAY!

OK - I have to do a little follow up.  How I love it when I write a post people want to comment on!  So much fun!

But, I just have to write a little more so I am absolutely sure no one thinks I am a curmudgeon.

I love a smile when it is genuine!  I don't want people to be surly, and I am really a very friendly person.  If I know I am going to encounter someone, such as a check-out person - even if I am not in a great mood - I try to summon up enough cheeriness to be kind and courteous.  But, so often, when I enter a place with greeters, I've forgotten about that feature of their operation, and feel ambushed.  That post was written after I went to Meijers very late one night, when I was not only exhausted but terribly unhappy and upset.  The greeter said, "Hello!"  and startling me out of my reverie, I actually had to fight back tears.  I suppose the rule of thumb ought to be - don't go to the store when you are that upset!  But, the effort to be friendly was almost impossible, and add to it that I had recently been told by someone who worked at this store as a greeter that their real job is to watch for shoplifters....well, it all seemed to be almost the last straw.

 I could just about say I'd wish every person on earth a "nice day" (though "nice" isn't aiming all that high, is it?) and I can even expand that wish to include all the evil people, too.  Why not?  But, I don't like anything that is FALSE.  If someone can be genuinely friendly to every one - and I know some who can - that is LOVELY.  But I don't want to see someone do an artificial version of friendly, then turn to someone and say something rude about the same person they just wished a nice day to.  And, I've seen that in the check-out lane, too.  In fact, I absolutely mortified one of my children one time, by sharing my opinion with an employee at McDonald's who did that to a disabled man.  To pretend kindness when you can't wait to say something nasty is false and worse than dignified silence (or even sullen silence) in my opinion.

I take it back - I don't wish everyone a nice day.  Rude drivers are exempted.  Actually, to be quite honest, I always utter a little interior wish that rude drivers would suddenly be struck with a really bad case of intestinal disturbance.  

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CISKA'S BLOG

Ciska is doing a givaway.  She is a super blogger, a wonderfully bright and interesting young woman....and you should go visit her blog.

I have said thisbefore even when there was nothing in it for me....this time I have to admit that posting here gives me another chance to win!

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FALSE POSITIVES

Sharing a little pet peeve here.

I detest artificial friendliness.  This is where Russia really has it all over Americans.  In Russia people do not paste false smiles onto their faces, or tell you to "have a nice day" again and again.  I suppose you might say they err on the opposite end of the scale, taking even everyday exchanges - in stores or at a business, very seriously.  I don't mind that at all, frankly.  When the lady responsible for handling the dry-cleaning at the hotel is hyper-solemn and businesslike, it gives her (and her job) dignity.  When the girl checking out at the grocery store, reprimands me for not bringing my own bags - well, she is right; I had been in Russia enough to know that I ought to carry a bag or two with me at all times.  (And who can't appreciate that thriftiness and environmental benefit?)



You might not get a smile, but you get good bread.



In Russia one of the things that I got used to, which initially surprised me, was what was I think the main job held by men - women seem to generally run the country, but in front of every business, it seems, there is a man.  He just stands there and watches (and.smokes). A sort of guard?  I never saw one accosting anyone, and they certainly did not seem to be there to help you.  I presume the idea is to discourage shoplifters - though there was also one at the hotel, where there was nothing, really, to take.  I did shock Ilya once, by asking one of these gentlemen for directions.  I shocked the man, too.  He truly looked dumbfounded, so perhaps the unspoken rule is that they are not to be addressed! 

Here, though, it is a different story.  In the front entry of far too many places there is someone who is actually placed there to watch for shoplifters, I'm told, but quite disingenuously, these people are called  "greeters".  And greet they do!  They greet you with a bright "hello" as though they know you.  As though they care about you.  As though it delights them to see you.  Since none of these things are true, perhaps there is some psychological ploy going on, intended to immediately put customers (oh, sorry - "guests") at a disadvantage.  Because, no matter if you are deep in thought, or trying desperately to recall the seven things you want to be sure to buy (ticking them off in your mind so as not to forget), or you might even be so sad you are just struggling to keep from crying - despite whatever it is that is going on with you - enter the store and you must suddenly snap to attention yourself, and be artificially friendly back. 

I hate it!

Part of that comes from having lived in a place where the effect that the big box stores are hoping to achieve (I think) was the genuine article.  If you live in a small town, where everyone knows - or is, at least, acquainted with - everyone else, then these greetings are legitimate.  When we were first married, we lived in a little town in Eastern Oregon - Heppner.  Everyone in Heppner at least knew of everyone else....  Even if you didn't really know someone, you were all in the "same boat" so to speak.  Living in that  rural area gave you immediately a lot in common with everyone else.  The town only had 1,500 people and it was an hour drive to anywhere bigger.  When people were born, or when people died, a little notice was put on the counter in all the main businesses.  People did matter.  People were individuals.  We had release time for religion classes, and if ever anyone noticed a little Catholic dilly-dallying by the creek rather than heading straight to the church for classes - I'd get a phone call!  So, when the checker at the grocery store gave you a greeting it was the genuine article. 

Maxim is working at Target now.  I was early to pick him up one day, and figured I'd pleasantly wile away the time by browsing.  I do enjoy browsing in Target.....but not that day!  Every couple of minutes someone would ask me if they could "help" me - or assault me with one of those artificial "Hi! How are you?" non-questions.  You can't really enjoy browsing if you have to keep stopping to speak to strangers.  I just wonder what they think they are accomplishing.  Comparitively, I am friendly and outgoing!  I'm pretty comfortable talking to strangers after years of doing theatre and touring from city to city, sometimes even boarding with different people every night.  Surely this stuff is even more comfortable for me than it is for most people?  But, I detest it!  It really felt as though I was being discouraged from just browing.  I began to feel that I was expected to either buy something or get out.  So, get out, I did.  I went to wait in the car.

I heard yesterday on some public radio program that recent studies have shown that people really do not like this.  So, I'm not the only one!  In  rating customer service, the artificial friendliness gets a business nowhere.  I'm now looking forward to this becoming common knowledge, allowing me to shop in peace. 

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OBLIVIOUS

Everyone's reactions to that whole post-before-last, "Too Soft"  was quite helpful, honestly.

For one thing, though I added a few more details in the comments, in the post I didn't let anyone know enough about the situation for it to really make sense.  And, what I realized from thinking over your comments, was that I was embarrassingly oblivious to actual situation myself.

The truth of it all lies in the child:  

• A child who is presently trying to cope with an ENORMOUS boatload of shame (to be clarified in new blog....just trust me for now).
• A child who already struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and a need to be perfect....particularly in written work.
• A child who was a first-rate, self-motivated student until her school world (through no fault of her own) fell apart in the middle of sixth grade.  Then her emotional stability collapsed, preventing her from going to school.  It has been a long time since she did schoolwork and she is a much more fragile person now.

The truth of it lies in the school situation:  

• FINALLY, only a couple of months ago, I got a home-based teacher set-up through our school district.  Anastasia's emotional stability is so fragile that being in a group of peers is not possible for her at the moment.
• The teacher does not, as I would have presumed, assess the child and give assignments.  No; she goes to the teachers in the large middle school that Anastasia presumably "attends" and brings the assignments that the students who are attending class are given.
• NOTE:  Anastasia has not had ANY of the instruction related to said assignments.  She has not has any instruction so far this year in those subjects.  
• Craig or I sit in (or nearby) on the lessons; no instruction has been given by the home-teacher in any subject other than math.  Anastasia's understanding of the math is better than the home-teacher's.  (And mine.)
• The only thing Anastasia got was the assignment to write a research paper, using at least five sources, only two can be internet, on Mad Cow Disease.  Include a Bibliography and footnotes.
• Anastasia has never written a paper like this; she has not had an opportunity to practice any of the steps for doing this.
• I can see how it seems to just make sense for her to get a "bad grade" on the thing....but how can she be expected to do something that she hasn't been taught? (Frankly, I didn't emphasize that in my post, because I wasn't really recognizing it, myself.  I was just blindly accepting what the home-teacher gave her to do without thinking about it at all!  Stupid. 
• The entire situation is bizarre:  a few weeks ago I got a form in the mail from her school (a school she has never entered, mind you).  There were "comments" from each teacher.  The oddity here is that all of the teachers (none of whom have ever seen or taught her) wrote comments - even comments such as:  Anastasia shows creativity and initiative.  Really?  Only one of them wrote:  Anastasia has missed too much class to judge. Yeah, I guess she has!  The other five included comments that would lead anyone to believe they actually knew who she was. Including:  Anastasia is very attentive in class.  So, these people are going to give her a grade?  That ought to be interesting.

The truth of it lies in my connection to the whole school thing:

• As is obvious from my not even considering that she didn't know how to do the assignment - I have not paid much attention to it.
• My only desire was for her to "finish it up", get it "over with". 
• I was somehow attributing to her my own ability to throw something like this together in an afternoon. 
• I was forgetting that she had not the faintest idea how to begin, let alone how to carry on. 
• Honestly, though I said I'd help, I was not available to help due to end of the year work burdens.  I was barely home, except to make dinner and take people to classes/appointments etc.

So, she shouldn't have been rude.  I need to teach her how to wake me up to things, if I'm unaware, by sharing her thoughts and feelings about something in words, (not by tearing up mail.)

And,  my little idea to give her a "reward" for doing the thing was STUPID.  First of all, I know the child.  Anastasia does not need rewards; she is one of those people who finds the reward in the completion.  Secondly, the headphones are one of the  strategies she uses to regulate herself - quietly listening to music, and retreating from the household noise.  

I was simultaneously laying stress on her while telling her she couldn't have her stress-reliever.

As regards school - I am not going to expect her to do a paper, when no one has given her any instruction in how to do it.  I have no problem telling the home-teacher that.  

As regards communication - We do need to talk about how to talk to mama when mama is overwhelmed.  Undoubtedly she thought I was too oblivious to be talked to but learning how to get through to someone who is "not getting it" is an important tool.  

Parenting trauma is hard. Being my daughter is no picnic sometimes either.

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PAST HELP, PAST HOPE, PAST CARE

For most of my working life so far, I had the most extraordinarily wonderful situation, which I innocently wrote about before I had any idea that in the blink of an eye it could all be lost.

Prior to the merger of our parish with another, and a lot of changes in budgeting, staff and direction, I worked out of a big, old convent....me, the Adult Ed Director, a great man who I'd known for twenty years, and two wonderful assistants who were more like friends than co-workers.  The perfection included plenty of space for my children to be at work with me.  In fact, we could do just about everything there but laundry (which would have been a big improvement and definitely increased my productivity)!     I even had a big, spacious room I could use for sewing.  Sewing which t included banners and altar cloths, the occasional vestment and so forth, for the parish, but also personal sewing.  Everything worked.  I could put in unbelievable hours, involving my children in the work (church work - doubly beneficial!) and never feel conflicted or overwhelmed.  We could eat there; I homeschooled there.....it was more home than home.

I felt this wonderful building was key to my ministry, too - the living room space, formed into a wonderful parish library, was perfect for study groups and prayer groups and intimate meetings.  There were rooms upstairs that were just the right size to accommodate all the middle school classes.  There was a great big room upstairs which was perfect for the Knights of Columbus a few nights a month, but also just right for activities with the girls club, and Confirmation groups....socials, and conferences.  The children's birthday parties were held there.  Lydia practiced her dancing up there. That building was perfect for everything I needed to do and allowed me to develop a ministry that was warm and welcoming, that drew people in, made them feel at home, got them involved.

The new pastor didn't really see how it was used, I don't think...but I should admit there were issues with the building - the most important, probably, was the amount of money it cost to heat it.  Also, it was full of asbestos, which prevented it from being easily made handicap-accessible and in other ways brought up to code.  And it was not being brought up to code because they were'nt being entirely upfront about its zoning (it was still zoned "residential" and I felt that was hardly a lie!)  No matter the problems, perhaps it 'twas "a poor thing but mine own".   I loved the place.

Imagine if your family was suddenly told that you must live not in your house - but in a small hotel room.  That's what it was like, having to move.  BUT (a big but, let me tell you) I did have a job, unlike most of my colleagues.  I am literally getting sick to my stomach just writing this - that is how horrible the experience was... and yet, due to my colleagues' job loss on one hand (their loss was so much worse than my own, obviously), and the need to put on a positive, enthusiastic face to everyone on the other (what a great new beginning for our parish!), there was no way I could ever express the devastation all of this change had wrought.  So often I felt like Dr. Zhivago, who coming back from the front during WWI, finds that his beautiful home has become a communal dwelling, and, still in shock, he manages to tell the dour woman who is head of the "People's Housing Committee" that "It seems much more fair."  That scene always resonated with me, but all the more now....devastation that cannot be grieved.



See the little table in the far back?  That was in my
home when I was a tiny girl; this was the "playroom"
where Lydia kept her box of Barbies....and much more..

Dealing with a new boss, a new staff, an entirely new reality - to say nothing about Craig going to Korea for a year (how did I live through that year?) - I never really organized what was left in the old building.  Then, add to that, the building was opened up for the school, the Knights of Columbus, and (worst of all the Boy Scouts), to use for storage.  [The scouts were worst because, for some reason, they decided to adopt the room where I had been keeping all of my files, children's books, and most important records, into their own storage space, and though I wasn't there, I am pretty sure the way it was done was - "Hey boys, get this stuff out of here!"  because all of my most critical materials were thrown haphazardly throughout the building.....]

Well, finally, this year the parish manager rightly decided that the building was out of control - and asked each group to put their belongings in designated rooms by Memorial Day.  After that everything else would be thrown out. 

Things I need for work....gathered from around
the building and now in utter chaos - and way back
in the back - the oak table from my grandpa's house.

He was right; it needed to be done. But, I cannot begin to describe the pain.  Twenty years of spreading out in a building..... personal files (everything from my financial files to my children's records from Russia and my older kids' homeschool materials) the Russian school supplies, family heirloom furniture put into use there when my mom moved out of their home, all our program art supplies, fabric for banners and all my personal fabrics and craft materials, boxes of library books that don't fit into the new library, closets of first communion suits and dresses for parishioners to borrow, closets of saints costumes, preschool materials, our children's books...and on and on.  Just cleaning out the kitchen took me a day, and how many times I wanted to weep over the loss represented by a mug or a spoon or even an old potholder -  because each item had years worth of memories attached.  And the entire operation was a reminder that I no longer have the perfect life.  My job now prevents me from being a decent mother, my situation now prevents me from even doing my job as well as I feel I used to.

In this kitchen we used to have little luncheons.  Such great ideas came out of the time spent chatting in a relaxed way about our work.  There was a table where all my children sat to do homework.  I was in this kitchen when I first heard the news on 9/11.  Our Russian school made pelmeni in here, all gathered around the table.   When Lydia was little we had a cooking club - my favorite session was when we made about four different kinds of brownies using vastly differing recipes.  Our Sodality girls made pies in here to sell....  I first learned to use embossing materials at the table here.  Whenever I forgot my key, Aidan knew how to climb in the window....Such fun, such happiness, so many stories.....wiped clean.                                                  

Frankly, I have sat on this post a bit, because though I think it was one of the most well-written things I've ever posted here, it was  far too - well - sad. Self-pitying.  I couldn't read it over without crying and feeling powerfully sorry for myself.  And that's not right.

So, I cut a bit above and here's to a more appropriate conclusion.....

One of my favorite St. Louis Jesuits songs is "Wood Hath Hope"...words I should dwell on (I can't find the lyrics anywhere on line, so this is according to my memory.):

Wood hath hope
When it's cut it grows green again,
And its boughs sprout green again.
Wood hath hope.


Root and stock, though old and withered up,
And all sunk in earth corrupt, will revive.
Leaves return; water pure brings life to them
/And the tree lives young again.  Wood hath hope.


But, ah - strange thought -if a man could rise again.
Called home to a loving land,
We would have hope.


We would have hope.
Like a tree we'd grow green again.
And our boughs sprout clean again...
We would have hope.  

Somehow cleaning out that building did make me feel "old and withered up".....but I'm sure it will pass.

The end of the "old" building.....the end of the "old" blog.  But, there is new life on the other side. I have hope.

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TOO SOFT

Christy just wrote a wonderful post about correction.

I have long realized that it is the "correction" piece that is the most difficult for me in parenting some of my children.   God made me compassionate; and somewhere along the line I realized that I resonate with the quote I read somewhere "To understand everything is to forgive everything."  And, for me to forgive is automatically to forget.  I can forget a child's (or anyone's) wrong-doing faster than the blink of an eye.

For example, a child will misbehave or disobey and I will give a consequence.... a likely example might be someone staying on the computer after being told to get off at a certain time.  I'll say that the next day they will lose their time.....but sure as sure, the next day I may have a vague memory that someone needed to be off the computer for some reason...but I can't recall who or why.  It is awful.  I recognize this trait as a blessing in many ways (I certainly can't hold a grudge!) but it isn't always.

And, in more complex situations, once I understand, and give instruction, I don't ever feel able to give any sort of consequence....  I'm never sure whether I ought to or not. Here is a recent example.....Anastasia has a couple of assignments she should complete to finish the school year.  She has been under an enormous amount of stress over some very serious issues, and is suffering more than I even knew. I am learning that she tends to work very hard not to share things that are painful.  So one afternoon I mentioned that she needed to finish the report and she said, "It's not happening!" I addressed that by keeping my cool and saying that it sounded to me like she was upset about it, and I said a few things to make the assignment seem do-able and said that sometimes having something to look forward to after a big effort could help motivate you.  So I offered a reward when she was done (new headphones since her present ones had stopped working.)  I deliberately left that conversation sort-of open-ended....I didn't sense that I could force her to make a specific plan without stressing her out too much. 

But, the next day she mentioned needing headphones and I cheerfully quipped that they were "on the way with the speed of a term paper."  Instead of thinking this amusing, she melted down in a way she hasn't in a long, long time - taking the mail and throwing it all over the driveway, even tearing a letter in two.  I was heading out at that moment with another child, and was REALLY glad to continue driving! 

Later that day, when she was regulated again... I brought up the term paper and her reaction to my mentioning it.  She immediately (instantaneously!) became disregulated and I could see her looking around for something to destroy.  I quipped, "Oh, let me get you some mail!"  I could see that she momentarily saw the humor and with that, her anger left but she burst into tears.  Crying is very rare for her. And she revealed how overwhelmed she is. It became clear to me that doing this paper may well be the straw that breaks the camel's back, and really... in the scheme of things, it can be dismissed.  So, I talked about her feelings, and how much better it might be to TALK to me, rather than snap and be defiant...how not everyone is going to be able to see through the defiance to something deeper, etc.  Then we talked about the underlying issues.

It was good, and later addressed in therapy....but I feel like maybe I didn't do my motherly duty in a) allowing her to go "unpunished" for being defiant, and b) allowing her not to do the paper.

From her brothers' point of view, I let her "get away" with things and am "too soft".

So, what do you think?

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BLOGGING ETIQUETTE

I rather think everyone has a different idea of what is appropriate in  blogville.  As I mentioned before, to me blogging is quite personal and I see a clear parallel to real life. 

I feel that the blogger is talking to me, and a small group of friends.  And, just as if we were leaning over the garden fence having a chat, or down in Coffee Bar after church, when they share, it seems to me to be good manners to respond.  I suppose, if you get right down to it, in every such group there are people who don't respond.  But, perhaps the difference is that in person the response is visible - you are listening, you are displaying some sort of reaction via your expression.  Thus, I feel more compelled to respond, even briefly, after reading a blog post, than I would to speak up in conversation.

When I read a blog which has a huge following - well, the image adjusts itself.  This blogger is standing at the front of a hall, addressing a large group.  But, as would be the case in "real life", not all people in the group respond.  Only some. They raise their hands and make a comment or ask a question.  For a popular speaker, lots of hands would be up, and people would make duplicate comments and I'd be sitting in the back wondering why it was necessary to say something someone else just said.  I often feel like that in the blogworld as well, though I have more sympathy for the duplicate comments simply because they help the blogger know that a lot of people are listening [reading].  Still, in a situation like this, it seems to be much more acceptable not to respond to every new topic.  In fact, when a blogger already has twenty responses, it almost seems rude to add more.....at least every time they post.  In those cases I am far more judicious in my comments.  I read, but don't comment.  A regular blog I read which fits this category is Christine Reed's  Smiles and Trials.  I probably respond more than I might to another blog this popular because I followed her from her early days, and in fact, we have a kind of relationship - i.e. we've spoken on the phone a few times.  Otherwise, I think I'd respond less than I do. 

If I run across a new blog, or one with very few comments, I will comment almost every single time.  It is not that I feel the blogger needs encouragement (though that may be true) but every communication deserves a response, and if I am receiving that communication I need to respond - most especially if I seem to be one of the few people in the room.  Here is where I'll mention a really gratifying thing which happened recently.  On Facebook I ran across a comment from Sarah, whose blog I read regularly a few years ago - in fact, somehow she was one of the first two blogs I read (hers and Christine's).  But Sarah stopped blogging, and was absent from FB too, and I would wonder about how she was doing from time to time.  So, when she suddenly appeared on FB I asked if she was still blogging - and in response she opened up her BRAND NEW BLOG!  In response to my interest!  I was so flattered.  And, pleased, too, because Sarah is a really good writer, and amusing too.  And, now she has a whole new subject - because her family has moved way out into the boonies.....and are exploring a whole new way of living out there.  I got to be the first reader of a whole lot of wonderful posts!  It was like getting a surprise box in the mail full of terrific gifts - and completely unexpected!  Do go visit Sarah in her new place! 

But then......there are more complicated situations.  Here is my real question for today.  If you find a blog that interests you, and you respond a time or two, but the blogger never seems to visit your blog and never in any other way recognizes that you commented on theirs......  Does that mean, "Go away and stop eavesdropping on my conversation?"  

I love comments!  When I get a comment from a new reader, I always head right out to visit their blog, and am always disappointed if they don't have one.  So, when I comment on someone's blog and they ignore me, does it mean I've been rude to intrude?  I am just not sure about this.

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SEVEN QUICK TAKES

1.  Today I wrote the first post for my new blog.  Until I do a few "catch up" posts, though, I'm not going to send it out on its own.  The new blog is still on blogger, but I have an alias, as do the children....so hopefully, the feel of it won't be different, but the kids will be a bit more protected from the prying eyes of search engines.

2.  Last Sunday I hosted another reception for 200 after a large number of adults and children came into the church for the Feast of the Ascension.  One thing I learned (because we put on almost exactly the same meal as we put on for the Easter Vigil reception) is that people eat a LOT more at noon than they do at midnight!  I don't think anyone piled their plates at the Easter celebration, but I was horrified to see how people were piling it on last week.....those at the end of the line got pretty meager fare.  I was sorry about that.  Overall, though it went well and I kept reminding myself:  we were not running a feeding station for the starving!  If someone didn't get a heaping plate of food, it was not going to be the end of the world.  There was certainly cake and punch for all.

3. Aidan marched in last week's National Memorial Day Parade.  This was broadcast on a lot of stations throughout the country, but not on our comcast line-up, so we figured out how to have the streamed version from the internet display on our TV screen.  I have to say, nothing makes you feel quite as lame as spending a holiday watching a parade on TV!  But, watch we did - and the parade itself was very nice (just wish I'd been there in person)....I particularly wished this when the streaming stopped just as Aidan's group was going to show up.  Really.  I couldn't believe it either.

4.  On Thursday night Zhen's school had their end-of-the-year event.  There was the graduation of one HS student, a display of student learning, and prize-giving..  All the HS students had to give a speech.  I was a bit dismayed that though nine of them spoke on "The Value of Education" only one of them mentioned anything apart from getting a good job and making money.  I was startled, to tell you the truth.  I can honestly say that I never in my life looked at education as a way to acquire wealth. (Well - we can all tell that, can't we!)

Looks rather quaint, doesn't it?

5.  The elementary students displayed their memory prowess.  This teacher is quite old-fashioned, to many minds, but I like the emphasis on memorization, and I think both the things memorized and the memorization skills learned are hugely valuable.  Each student said their "piece" - Zhen recited the Preamble to the Constitution; other students shared the Books of the Bible, the Presidents, a number of different Scripture passages (for example, the entire nativity narrative from Luke - we're not talking short pieces, here!); one boy recited the Declaration of Independence, another the entire "Dream" speech of Martin Luther King.  The boy who shared the MLK is a pastor's son, and his dad must have been beaming - I was misty-eyed; he did a tremendous job and it was powerful.  Zhen's piece was comparitively small, but to my amazement, he followed my advice to say it "loud and slow", and every word was clear - including "traniquity" [which replaced "tranquility"] And all the kids had, over the course of the year, memorized all the pieces.  Pretty impressive.

As you can see, he was happy though.

6. I had another experience of inner misery at the prize-giving.  Now I am only too aware that Zhen is not going to win any academic prizes until he focuses on working a bit harder, and I am also really pleased that his teacher makes sure she gives an appropriate award to every student.  However, I think she ran out of time to think about it, because three students of the eight all got the same award "Most Improved" - and frankly, who wouldn't see the contradiction in that?  In her remarks, however, it was clear that his improvement consisted of beginning to work harder, so I guess that's good.  I asked him later which of the academic awards he would most have liked to receive....and he shared that he thought he would have gotten an award for Best Artist.  I realized - of course!  He should have! But she didn't give one. He is a remarkable artist.  And, then I recalled that Anastasia got an award for art when she had this teacher.  Beats me.  Maybe Mrs. A was more interested in rewarding his improved work-ethic.  (Though from my seat it felt more like a public announcement that my child was a lazy good for nothing for most of the year.)

7. S.spent Saturday assisting an electrician install electricity in someone's new addition.  Sergei has a real interest in this field, but this was his first opportunity to really experience it close-up.  He said it was awesome, and I am thrilled.  

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HER CUP RUNNETH OVER

Heather Forbes has likened each individual's stress tolerance to a glass....which, depending on each person's unique capacity and resilience will....at some point - hit its limit and then - the stress spills over.  I guess it is another way to think of the old idea of "the straw that broke the camel's back"......one straw doesn't seem like anything - and yet, it might just be the LAST straw!

Last Monday, we were all tested - particularly Lydia, Anastasia and me.  I'd invited Lydia to come with us to therapy in Livonia.  I thought she might benefit from the chance to talk to Julie about the ways in which someone like Anastasia might need different treatment than - say - someone like Lydia.  Lydia's famous (and frequent) line is "You would never have let me get away with that!".  And, honestly, I think she goes back and forth [understandably] between thinking on one hand that I am favoring Anastasia, and on the other that I am not parenting Anastasia as well as I parented her.  Anyway, that was my hope in inviting her.  Of course, we also planned on perhaps some shopping and lunch. 

Anyway, after therapy, we headed back to Lansing on I-96, planning on stopping in Brighton at Cracker Barrel (Lydia's choice)with the caveat that if nothing at CB tickled Anastasia's fancy we'd get her some Taco Bell afterwards to eat in the car. 

Just east of the exit we were rear-ended by some fellow trying to change lanes. I was in the center lane just going the speed of the traffic and I hadn't seen him coming in my mirror.   It was startling, for sure, but he didn't hit us very hard.  I discovered last winter when I smashed-in the front of my car sliding at about 2 miles an hour into a pole, how really unable cars seem to be to take much impact at all (it is terrifying, really).  So, though we weren't hit hard, it was scary, particularly as when I tried to move off to the edge of the highway, the car defiantly seemed disabled.  Actually, the metal was so bent that when we moved right it rubbed against the tire, I think. 

Being hit was only the beginning of our problem, really.  I called AAA (being an AAA member is one of the best things we've ever done).  They said I had to make an accident report before they could come.  Frankly, I was shaken, and it was hard just to get my hands to work to dial AAA, but I managed to get the State Police, too, and eventually an officer came.  While we waited Lydia got out and surveyed the damage. I couldn't bring myself to do it.  All I could think about was how dependent I am on our car, since the van is not working, and we can't get it fixed right now.  In fact, how was I going to get Sergei from school?  AND his friend, who (wouldn't you know) is counting us on a ride for the remainder of the school year. 

After looking at the damage, Lydia opened up the hatch and began to straighten out the mess back there - things had gotten thrown around.  While doing so, she uncovered a beer which someone had given me months ago....   I'd sort-of "hidden" it back there expressly because any sort of alcohol consumption is a trigger for Anastasia - all the more so if the person consuming it is me.  I insisted (almost hysterically, because I didn't need a melt-down on top of everything else) that Lydia throw the beer into the bushes at the side of the road.  Obviously she didn't want to do that for a variety of reasons with the other driver watching (you can see how Anastasia's hysteria about beer had passed on to me).  Instead, Lydia told Anastasia the beer was hers....and that averted the problem, probably because at this point the police car arrived as a distraction.

 Fortunately,the other driver was straightforward about everything being his fault.  , then I could call AAA back.  All of this took time, and just being there at the side of the road realizing all of our plans were destroyed took its toll on me, for sure.

They sent a tow truck, but because there were three of us, we couldn't ride to Lansing with the tow-truck driver; but he said he'd take me to the next exit and the policeman could take the girls.  We all got dropped off at a Pizza Hut. 

Now began my FOUR HOUR effort to get us the 40 minutes home.  I tried using my phone in the restaurant,but I couldn't hear over the scratchy country music, so I went outside, where the noise of the freeway wouldn't let me hear.  I finally found that I could hear and be heard in the restroom - so I spent the afternoon there.  Lovely. 

So, I call my insurance company, and they remind me that, after our "review" of coverage last summer, we'd dropped the Rental Car feature on our policy - we could save money that way we'd reasoned, since we have another vehicle.  Right.  We had another vehicle.  But!  Last year the body shop had given us a loaner.  I called them.....well, yes, they would - but he didn't think they had one at the moment. 

Oh, dear!  So, like it or not, there was nothing to be done, but rent a car.  Let's start with Avis - who had no cars.  The Hertz, whose office was several miles away, and we had no way to get there except walk.  Enterprise will pick us up...but!  Wait!  They will not accept a card used both as credit and debit.  What?  Why not?  Couldn't they contact the credit union? No.  But- if I could give them a pay stub.  A pay stub?  Right. I always carry a pay stub with me.  Couldn't they speak to my employer.  Nope.   Eventually, they settled for a copy of the accident report and a copy of my Proof of Insurance (and of course I didn't have that with me I had to arrange to have that faxed to them.) All of this took so much time and made me feel so helpless and vulnerable. 

At 4:30 someone from Enterprise finally took us away from Pizza Hut (yeah!) to their office.  Just as I was about to sign for the car, Craig calls.  He'd walked to the body shop and they had come up with a loaner!  Finally something went right!  And, just in time, too!  Despite a bit of guilt for their trouble, I  took Enterprise's offer to drop us off at a Panera near the exit.  Absolutely did not want to sit in that barren Enterprise office until Craig arrived.    I can't recall when any coffee has tasted as good as that cup I first got at Panera's.  And eventually Craig arrived and took us home.  Thank heaven. 

How odd to immediatly have to leap into action and take Maxim and Sergei to their dog-walking job and Ilya to kickboxing.  While we were gone Lydia threw together some sort of meal from what we had in the house.  Imagining Anastasia needed a bit of reward for being so good all day, I picked her up a Snickers.   As they requested, I got drinks for I and M, and either a drink or candy for everyone.  After dinner, I realized that Anastasia's candy was gone.  Maxim mentioned casually going upstairs something about "his" candy bar.  So, basically, he took her candybar.   And, finally.....her cup of stress was more than full.  That was the last straw. 

Moms are not supposed to have last straws.  So, I took a deep breath and drawing her into the laundry room, spent Lydia's final evening with us, attending to Anastasia. (Though this allowed Lydia some nice time playing games with Zhen.) Really, though - Anastasia had been amazing.  She had coped with one triggering incident after another by hanging on.....and not allowing herself to get dysregulated.  I thought about it (well, she pointed it out.....after some time she realized what was going on....)  The acident.  Scary enough.  The mammoth change of plans.  Yelling (OK; I did yell a bit).  The bottle of beer.  And how could I not have reaized how hard it is for her to ride in a police car?  (brings back being removed from her mother)  No Taco Bell, which she'd counted on.  Loooong time stuck in that restaurant, not knowing how we'd get home.  The purloined candy bar was not the reason she lost it - as it might have appeared.....it was that on top of a huge load of earlier stressers. 

I was so proud of her, for working with me, for getting a grip, for actually realizing and telling me the things that had really stressed her out.  (I couldn't believe I wasn't aware of the police car at the time.)  And, I'd even forgotten that Julie had really pushed her in therapy, and not timed thngs quite well enough to "get her back" before we left.  I'd totally forgotten that I'd left Julie's office thinking, "Oh, crap...."   And, it had been the promise of Taco Bell that brought her back.  So, I asked her if she was still hungry (she hadn't eaten Lydia's dinner).  And, I went and got her Taco Bell.  It seemed to me that it was rewarding her work to become regulated, it was recognizing how well she'd coped with really hard things - one after another - all day!  And it was keeping the promise I'd made when we left therapy.  It was also feeding her, which is huge for her, since her mother didn't. 

But.  Of course, to everyone else, it looked like "spoiling her" and "letting her boss [me] around".  Since no one was in the laundry room with us, all they saw was the bad behavior, so it looked to them like I was teaching Anastasia to act badly to "get her way".  But it really wasn't like that at all.  Or, I don't think it was.

But, people can make me second-guess myself.  I was trying to do the right thing, anyway. 

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LYDIA'S VISIT

The inspiration for Lydia's visit this week was the recital which marked the Tenth Anniversary of the Quinn School of Irish Dance - the school which Lydia was a "founding member" of (at least if dance terminology is like Church terminology).  

Ten years ago we took the leap and left the highly respected O'Hare School in Detroit, to drive a bit less far and join Erin's new school in Marshall/Kalamazoo, Michigan.  Erin is a most exacting teacher, and she probably ended up making Lydia the disciplined person which she is today.  Below is a short video I took of  Lydia dancing a Treble Reel with Erin.

Erin Quinn and Lydia

Lydia stayed from Friday through Monday.  She took Anastasia to get her ears pierced again; this seems to be a tradition.  Good thing Lydia doesn't come visit too often!  Then we went out (just the girls) for Mexican food.  Lydia bought me a Mother's Day gift:

There is a story (an OLD story) behind this bracelet.  When I was a very little girl, 4, in preschool, one day another girl spent a day there.  She had the most marvelous bracelet!  It had brightly colored little plastic fruit charms.  Oh!  I loved that bracelet and wanted one so much.  I do not know if I was able to describe it all that well to my parents, and I doubt even if I could, that they would have known how to find just such a bracelet for me...but I do remember how they tried!  The closest match, apparently was a small plastic bowling ball on a ball chain, which I wore for a loooong time.  But, no bright little fruit.  In the back of my mind for all these [many] intervening years, I've had that little bracelet in my mind - so imagine my surprise and delight to find just the bracelet!!!  I'm not sure that the little girl's fruit had faces, but mine does.

On Friday night we ate chocolate and watched a wonderful movie - Midnight in Paris....totally "up my alley" so to speak.  On Saturday we took a family trip to Lake Michigan  -  at least we  got four "family" in the car besides Craig and me - Lydia, Maxim, Ilya and Zhenya.  Sergei and Anastasia were with friends.

No one was up for posing, but I got this photo of all of them to prove it.

I am not sure why we didn't really dress for the beach.  We all put our feet in the water, but that is about it....we did enjoy the sun and the lighthouse, and so forth.  I think Lydia, who lives in Virginia Beach, is spoiled for beaches, anyway.

Lydia enjoyed the dogs while she was here, and we cooked Mexican food another night.

Yesterday she went home.  On Monday we had quite a "challenging" sort of "adventure"....but I'll write about that in another post.

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AND, HERE'S TO THERAPY - SOMETHING FOR MOTHER'S DAY

 Last thing I ever expected was a Mother's Day gift from Nastia, but that is exactly what I got, and obviously done carelully, over quite a bit of time.  I truly attribute this to all the work she has done in therapy to deal with her terrible-and-yet-part-of-her mother, and me (trigger-incarnate).

So, this is the packet, all hand colored.

Inside a message, could be "deeper" but who is complaining?

There is a bouquet of roses!

All carefully-crafted little shrinky-dinks.

God love my dear, damaged, little girl, nevertheless struggling to love. 

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Now THIS is a Mother's Day Gift!!!!!

A missionary from Ivanovo worked at the orphanage Ilya was in - Shuya School Orphanage.  He now does work with EE students working in the US in the summer near Dollywood....and he has a FB presence.  I noticed that one of HIS FB friends was a young man named Dmitri, who had "Shuya School Orphanage" as his place of work.  I friended him, and he remembers Ilya!

We've chatted here and there a time or two, and today - lo and behold!  A most precious gift!  Photos of Ilya from before we adopted him.  No adoptive mother could be more grateful for anything!

Here he is - see? In blue in the second row.

He is in gray, behind the oranges.  I wish I could have been there.

Second from the right - enjoying himself!

And the best one of all.......

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THIS MOTHER'S DAY

In the paper, on-line, on the radio - everywhere, there are suggestions for "Top Ten Gifts for Mother's Day"  "Top Mother's Day Gifts for Tiger's Fans" "Ten Top Gifts for Working Moms" etc. 

When I look at most of these I am unmoved.

What would be my top ten Mothers Day Gifts?  Nothing to buy!

1. Everyone coming to dinner, liking what is served, and not once saying anything critical of or upsetting to anyone else. 
2. A clean house. 
3. A clean car. 
4. A clean office. 
5. Flowers planted. 
6. Play Draw Anything with me. 
7. Play anything with me - I LOVE to play! 
8. Church without complaint. 
9. Kisses and hugs.
10. A talk.  Love, love, love talking to my children one-on-one.

Not so hard to please me, is it?

PS - the list above is from:
http://www.nannypro.com/

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WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU'RE HEAVY-HEARTED

One of my real-life heroines is Keri from Creating My Own Little Nirvana.  We have so much in common, except that she is braver than I am (she works in theater, I bailed); and she is one heck of a lot holier.   In one of her recent posts, her daughter reminds her of her own strategy for cheering up when gloomy...."ten things".

Being grateful for ten things.  So, maybe I'm a little gloomy.  In any case I'm feeling like a failure, but rather than focus on that nonsense I'll try Keri's method.

Ten Things

1.  Religious Education classes are just about over for the year....and that is such a wonderfully freeing feeling! 
2. First Communion is over, and it seemed to go very well.
3. Anastasia has a wonderful therapist, and I have the ability to get her there once a week....and  can see progress.
4. The smell of spring is in the air.
5. Zhenya is off to Disney Land - how I hope it is a happy, memorable few days for him.
6. Maxim is so enthusiastic about so many things - his brightness rubs off.
7. I think I actually got to use my therapeutic parenting knowledge to help a mom in the parish.  At least I know she feels better for talking to me.
8. Lilacs are just beginning to bloom.
9. My cold/flu whatever is getting better....but my most heartfelt gratitude is to Dayquil and Nyquil!
10.I sleep well.....and can't wait to crawl into my soft, cozy bed every night. 

My "new" private blog is pretty-much set up....it is just a matter of taking the plunge.  Shall I only go there occasionally?  Or altogether?  What if I don't have any readers there?  Have to do it, though....because I'm so limited when I feel guilty mentioning anything about anyone here.

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IMPRESSMENT

Remember that great word from History class?  Gangs of British sailors would stop a colonial fishing or merchant ship and "impress" the young seafaring men into service.  It wasn't only colonists - occasionally, if short on recruits, they would sweep into an English seaside village, take young men from their beds, accost them as they did their plowing, surprise them at worship, and by brute force, kidnap them and sign them up for duty.  One minute they are in control of their lives, or so it seems, the next they are at sea for a four-year stint.

Well, I feel a bit like I was "impressed" this year.  Ambushed.  Taken by surprise and made to do what I did not intend to do, and never would have done, given a choice - and, you know?  It was done so well (or I am so oblivious) that I didn't quite realize the situation until just recently.  I guess this press gang was a bit more subtle than most.....

We decided to put Zhenya into Grace Academy.  Zhenya is a very bright little boy - he has an absolutely amazing gift for retaining what he hears, but what he reads?  Not so much....  And while he is really good at computation skills there are some other math issues.  Anyway, we felt that it would be wise to focus on his academics, so we made the decision to do what we really could not afford to do and put him at Grace Academy where he gets a lot of one on one attention from a master teacher.  Anastasia had this teacher for 5th and half of 6h grade, until she and her husband were dismissed from Summit for daring to mention that they intended to start their own school this year.  Mrs.A. brought Anastasia up three grade levels in reading in one year.  She is really marvelous. 

Long-time, careful readers may recall that there was one difficulty with Anastasia's foray into Mrs. A's class - the annual class trip.  That year the class went to D.C. and I had to  endure all that accompanied not allowing her to go.  It was just too much for her, I felt.  And, in the end, she and I had a nice week of adventures together locally.  I probably should have asked for an allowance for that week, though, since we'd done all kinds of fund-raising that year....none of the families had to pay anything for the trip.

This year, at the first parent gathering, it was announced that this year the trip would be to Disney World.  All of the associated learning objectives were discussed, and how it would be a theme throughout the year, as well as something the kids had to work for (ostensibly "earn" in a sort of point system, that does motivate Zhen very effectively).  OK.   A few options were discussed for fundraising, and I didn't think much more of it.....

Until January, I think, when we were asked to hand in the cost of airfare.  OK.  Wow.....and shortly thereafter she negotiated the rest of the trip details - staying in the park, with all the shuttlebus services, etc.  Please have $650 by such and such a date.   Good gosh!  At our house that is major money, not easily come by or parted with. 

Yes, there were a couple of fundraisers - selling pizza kits, and putting on a play.  Families got the money they could raise through both of these events.....but, we have no relatives!  And  even my mom didn't want to sit on a hard pew to watch the play (good choice; I really should have volunteered to help with that as Mrs.A's brilliance is clearly in the classroom and not in the director's chair).   I bought a pizza kit or two....but, wait!  I don't think that benefitted me, now I consider it.

So, in the end only the tax refund saved the day and got Zhen's trip paid for......but I am feeling a bit sorely used.  When we committed, reluctantly, to the tuition we didn't realize that we'd also be on the hook for this expensive trip for ONE of our children.  It doesn't seem fair for Zhen to have this great opportunity that the other kids don't get.......

I am glad he is going.  I just feel the pinch of "losing" that money which could have been used effectively for everyone's benefit.  I also think that we have to have a discussion about next year.  I m not sure we should even commit to the tuition again, and I know that I have to ask ahead of time about the trip....no more surprises needed.

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AVERSE AND ADVERSE

I am averse to change, and this "new blogger look" is having an adverse affect on my comfort level.

I don't really see any improvement and don't quite understand the need to create this kind of user-discomfort.  What for?  To seem "new", "trendy" - not to get stale?

As everyone can see, I haven't been writing too much lately and the reason is twofold - one is that I really am hard-pressed at work, but perhaps the greater reason is self-editing.  I know that none of my children want me to write about them (anything good, bad, or indifferent) where people they know can read it.  That seems a reasonable desire, and to continue to do it seems disrespectful.  If I hadn't made the error years ago of letting people I know IRL have this address it would be fine, but I did - but it didn't turn out that I wanted to write the newsy, cheerful little blog I envisioned then.  And just considering the Golden Rule - I wouldn't want the kids keeping a blog that mentioned ME (to say the least!)

So, what with the kick in the shins from blogger, I thought "I will start a WordPress blog!  What the heck!"  Then, just now, I attempted to post a respose on mamaporuski's blog and (as is typical at least 50% of the time) I wasn't allowed to do so because I wasn't "logged in" or my information wasn't acceptable to them in some way.  There must be some disconnect between how I log in here (at home) versus how I log in at work, or something, because WordPress and I just don't seem to get along anymore.  And I don't want my readers to have that issue.  I love every comment.

So,  I guess I'll stick with blogger, but I have to somehow figure ot how to go anonymous...Then I'll give all you non-local friends the new address. 

Now, for some reason I can't even get blogger to allow me to put in a picture today.  Maybe it is a sign I should drop blogging altogether. 

Signed,

Highly Frustrated

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QUICK TAKES FRIDAY

[I note this almost looks like a cooking blog.  Practically all the photos are food!]

1.  I went to the eye doctor and to my amazement was told that my eyes have gotten BETTER and I don't need contacts any longer.....at least my eyes are now 20/20 for both near and far.  However, the contacts corrected them to better than that, so I am not sure..... I'm trying it bare-eyed, to see what I think.

2.  I finally negotiated with Lansing Public Schools for Anastasia to do home-based education - we meet a tutor at the library twice a week for an hour and a half or so.  She is whizzing along with math, and giving this lady a run for her money.  I love to see Anastasia at school; she is so sincere, serious, and just - genuine....  Her masks come down and she is sweet, shy, calm.  It is as though one is seeing the "real" Anastasia, with all of the burdens and stressors that come from family and social relationships completely absent.  Or is it that she feels capable and smart?  I don't know; but I love it.

3.  We celebrated "Zhen Day" at the end of March. Zhen asked for only "useful" gifts - a hat and glasses.  That hat is actually getting a lot of wear - but by Maxim, not Zhen.  I expect he will take the glasses on his trip to Florida.  His class is going to Disney World in May.  He's playing CIA here.

4.  Today Craig and I are leaving for the Parenting in Space conference.  I am so looking forward to this, despite a great deal of trepidation about leaving the kids home alone.  Fortunately, Sergei and Maxim are really responsible....but only Maxim is good to Anastasia.  The social scene is all just a bit tricky....but I don't really have any other option but to let them fend for themselves.  They have good neighbors to call on if something goes amiss.

5.  One of the "bigges" recently was the Mom's and Preschoolers Easter Activity morning last Friday.  It went great.  I had all the kids make the Resurrection Buns; that was a huge hit. Then, last night was Confirmation.  For the first time ever, someone asked me to be their sponsor; I was so honored! 

 6.  Ten cupcakes to celebrate Anastasia's younger brother's tenth birthday.  She has always been obsessed by this sibling.  He was born at home and she helped bring him into the world.  Little Denis - a little blond baby -  disappeared into the hands of social workers not many days after he was born.  But it was not before Anastsia had bonded with him, and the loss she felt is something she's been trying to grapple with for all the years I've known her.   We heard he had been adopted by an Irish family (hence the theme of our decoration), but I have not been able to locate them.  Just knowing he was well, and having a photo would mean so much to her.

6. Maxim is my chief kitchen helper.  I LOVE having his assistance with dinner.  And a time or two he has made dinner pretty-much by himself.   This was hash (delicious!) which he made from the left-over corned beef.

7. My Iraqi friend invited a bunch of ladies to her house last Friday night for dinner.  It was just an amazing meal!  And I think an evening party for all ladies is just a great idea.

I have to share that one of the most special aspects of the meal was the beverage served beforehand - an Iraqi "martini".  It was served in martini glasses, and had vodka, but othewise was not much like a martini - The beverage was served in a glass bowl, and was really this gorgeous bowl of berries - raspberries and blackberries surrounded by a light vodka-based liquid.  You got a glass of the berries and liquid and a little spoon.  Delicious and just lovely!

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SOMETIMES I ACTUALLY WORK

A few years ago one of my religious education students was still standing in the doorway when everyone else had been picked up.  This little third grader was the daughter of a prominent cardiologist and her parents are very on top of things so I wasn't concerned.  Usually, if this happens, I have to comfort the child, but this little girl began by assuring me:  "My dad was supposed to pick me up, but, well....you know....sometimes he actually has to work."  I could hardly stifle my laughter.

Well, I actually have to work, too.....in addition to handling crisis after crisis, and driving to therapy in distant cities.

This has seemed to be a particularly busy and stressful year, somehow.  I thought I'd just share a few photos and a run-down of a few of the things that have been keeping me busy:

There are always Confirmation events (2 a month!)

And I hosted a Bingo Night for the Religious Ed families

There is a bit of a funny story behind this.  For many years, before I became Catholic, one thing I thought was just wonderful about Catholics was how they built community by getting together to play Bingo!  Little did I know that Bingo is, whenever I've seen it, simply a fundraiser to keep a school open....drawing not on parishioners, but on the wider community.....  I was so disappointed!  I vowed that I'd darned well, make my mistaken vision a reality - at least for one night.  It was; it was a lot of fun.

And we had our Annual Mother/Daughter Conference

The point of this conference is to introduce young girls to the idea of the many changes which accompany adolescence.  It works beautifully, setting mom up as the expert and confidante, "breaking the ice" so to speak so moms and daughters can feel comfortable talking about these things, and presenting some of the "basics".  Usually I have a special speaker who does that "the basics" part.  I do something sweet about imitating the saints, but this time my special speaker couldn't come.  I tried to get someone else, to no avail....this less-than-easy talk was left in my lap.  Oh, well - there is a nice video which covers most of the "difficult" parts.  But - wouldn't you know!  While it worked perfectly the last time we did this presentation, this time - it was dead.  It would not work; I couldn't find the copy.  There was nothing for it - I was left to replicated ALL of the "difficult" content.  But, as so often happens.....my despair led to coming up with a slightly different way to present the stuff; my prayers availed me of the help I needed to un-clench my jaw and talk.....and it went really well.

And we put on our Easter Vigil Afterglow (beginning at 11 p.m.)

I am totally confused as to how a big social, food-service event became my responsibility.....everyone rises to their level of incompetence, I guess.  But, it went fine....and my varicose veins didn't even suffer as much as last year.  I thought the room looked attractive, and the food was pretty good, too.

During Lent I led a weekly faith-sharing group

I took a photo of this corner of the room I used just to show the custodians, actually.  Since I got really tired of having to move that big heavy couch all by myself into this position every week.  There is no reason it can't stay just this way!

During Lent we had a big "Intergenerational Lent Event" - which was a "biggie" as you can tell:

I think they had fun!

We got them "up and moving around" (as they say)

And on Palm Sunday weekend we had our Butter and Chocolate Lamb sale to raise money to donate to New Horizons for Children.  That was an enormous amount of work, but we made over $800 I think.

I should have some photos of butter lambs around, but I don't for some reason!

Now we are moving into first communion season.  We have a Solemn First Communion Mass on May 5, but for a variety of reasons there are always a number of children who make their first communion individually....as this little girl on Easter morning.  (So much for Easter breakfast......)

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