Life: Explained

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs. I have a full life."

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that?" asked the Mexican.

"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."

"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.

"And after that?"

"Afterwards? Well my friend, that's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!"

"Millions? Really? And after that?" asked the Mexican.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."

And the moral of this story is: ......... Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.

*From an internet forward, author unknown.

Sniff, Sniff

Our computer is down with a virus -- which we hope we can head off.  But, just in case Dan, our resident computer guy, can't dose it with something to make it well again, I'm taking advantage of his laptop today to schedule some posts ahead that have been on a back burner in my blog kitchen.  If Dan remembers to bring his laptop home during the week, I'll be able to keep up with my friends on the blogosphere and e-mail.  If he forgets -- well, just know I'm thinkin' about you, and itching to get our desktop computer back and runnin! 

Big brothers, Jon and Dominic will be home for Thanksgiving week, and there is much to do here, so it may be best for me to lie low, anyway.  It hasn't escaped my attention, the possiblity that my Guardian Angel may have sabotageed my computer to get me better focused on work at hand...  May be good timing for me to get on top of my Christmas plans!  I'll be back soon to share those, I'm sure...

Happy, Productive Thanksgiving Week
And God Bless Us, Every One!

Saturday Morning Cartoons

The sort of thing that absolutely cracks up my children.
And I laughed, too.  Couldn't help it.

(Yeah, we have a tendency toward slapstick... And this one strikes close to the heart in a peculiar way.)

"You Don't Look Like You've Had Ten Children."

"Um, thank-you.  I think."

I don't look like I have ten children.

I get that all the time -- and I know it's meant to be a compliment, though I expect, more often than not, it's actually an involuntary reaction of astonishment at the double digit number.  Regardless, I don't feel offended.  It's better than someone saying, "Gosh, you look like you've had ten children!"  And, all things being relative, there's no reason to bristle -- but, it does make me wonder...  What am I supposed to look like after I've had ten children?

Here's what I imagine the critics think:

1. First of all, we mothers of many children are expected to be fat. 

Now, granted (like my daugher-in-law and I were just saying yesterday, which is one of the reasons I'm thinking about this at all), women who've had a few children have every right to put on a few pounds, and nobody -- most especially our husbands -- had better say a word about it.  But, in my circle of large-family Moms, I have to tell you, very few have a real weight problem at all. In fact, I'm pretty chunky compared to the multi-mom average in my world. 

Seriously. 

This should not surprise anyone who's hung around with the likes of us.  For one thing, there's the exercise; boy, do we get exercise.  Mothers of many children rarely get the chance to sit down -- ever.  Which leads directly to the real weight control secret of large family moms: Because we never sit down, we never get a chance to eat. Our calories are burnt up almost as soon as we consume them.  As soon as I lift the fork to my mouth, someone needs something, spills something, or chokes on something.  Remember the dinner scene from A Christmas Story, when Ralphie's Mom never gets to eat because she's always dishing out more red cabbage and meatloaf-beatloaf?  Multiply that by five.  And, then add eight or ten nursing babies, one after the other, into the mix, and the fact that (unless we hide) we never get a bite of anything sweet without sharing it with a toddler.  Any of us with a few extra pounds should be congratulated for our stealth and/or determination.

2.  Mothers with big families should be bald.

Many would think our hair should all be torn out by the time we get past about the four children mark, and I understand this misconception. There have been days when I've wanted to tear my hair out...  (Haven't we all had those days, regardless of our family size? ) But, the fact is  -- and I believe most super-family-moms would concur --  my life was harder when I was a fledgling mother with three small children than it is now with my ten children between the ages of three and twenty-two.

It's true.

Honest-to-goodness, the first three or four children are the practice pancakes.  By the time I got to five kids, I had matured as a mother: I knew what battles to pick and which to leave alone, I knew not to jump at every whimper,  and I had learned to relax enough to start enjoying  my amazing little troupe of  mini Davises. 

But, most of all, by the time I had four or five kids, my oldest had started to become workers instead of work.  With each new baby added to the family, another worker bee was usually joining the chore-crew.  I now have a carefully groomed work force at my beck and call.  (Well, I beck and call, anyways, and sometimes they actually do come and do what I tell them....)   It's understandable, though, why many women wouldn't expect this happy result of our numbers; most mothers of smaller families remember the early, difficult days and believe that scenario will be multiplied exponentially if other children are added.  But, compared to the old days when I had less than a handfull of children, my life is easy now.  See me sitting here with my coffee and bonbons?  Ecce quam bonum!  Life is good!  My hair may be going grey, but it's all there.

3.  Our arms should be dragging the ground.

First of all, our posture might be supposed to suffer due to mere exhaustion.  But, as explained in #2, "many hands make light work."  I expend most of my energy trying to out-think my kids and  make them work without realizing that's what they're doing...  I have plenty of work to do, but we've trained the children to share the load.

Secondly, one would think that our arms would be stretched to the ground due to the fact that: Boy-oh-boy, we "have our hands full!"  I can't tell you how many times I've heard this.  It's right up there with: "You don't look like you've had ten children."  Actually, I've probably heard it even more.  And, I don't know exactly whether the "hands full" comment is meant to be derisive or not.  Perhaps it's meant as just a statement of fact.  I take it that way, anyway,and don't mind the observation.  When I feel the need to respond, I just say: Yessiree!  Better than empty! 

And, I mean it.

 How could I ever complain that my hands are full when I know that they're full of blessings?  It's all in the perspective.  People who don't "get it" look at all my children and in their mind's eye see a big basket full of writhing snakes and snapping wolves.  [[Shudder]] But, when I look at all my children, I see a basket full of marbles and jumpropes and little army guys and three-ring binders and sheet music and homemade chocolate chip cookies and mismatched socks -- and feathers, lots of them -- from their Guardian Angels' wings.  It's a full basket.  Maybe a little awkward to carry at times, but one I wouldn't put down for anything.  Thank-you, God.

How Moms of large families really look:

Generally speaking, we look no different than anyone else.   Except that we're always spying around to make sure we haven't left anything (or anyone) behind in stores, parks, and restaurants. Our purses may be bigger and more completely packed than most women, and we drive big vans -- but on the outside we usually pass for normal human beings.

I've got to be honest, though.

In my middle age -- I'm forty-five now -- I surely do show some of the signs of a busy life.  I'm only marginally overweight, I have all my hair, and my arms don't hang down to the floor, but I'm not untouched by the journey I've taken so far.  For one thing, there's no denying that bearing ten children has taken a toll on my health.  At one time, I would have resented the implications of that statement, but it's true that every pregnancy takes a bit of the life of the mother.  That is not to say it shortens our lives if we know to take care of ourselves, but facts are facts: growing babies in the womb is hard work.   It's tough on the old body.  And raising toddlers and teenagers is mentally and emotionally taxing.  Hard work, and no accident.  True love involves sacrifice.  God knows that no more complete bond can be formed than when a woman literally gives her lifes' blood to the infant growing within her; and the path to independence of our teenagers lies directly over their mothers' hearts.  It's all hard.  It leaves scars that most people can't see, but they're beautiful scars and blessed stretch marks.

 In all size families, our sacrifices should try to imitate Our Lord's sacrifice in our love for our children. We give a lot of things up to be good parents, and we put up with a lot.   And that leaves marks -- if not externally, then certainly interiorally.  The more people we love in our lives, the more vulnerable we are to the whiplash and wounds left by worry and hurt.  But it also leaves our arms open to hugs and kisses and family baseball teams and siblings' four-part harmonies and crowds around the dinner table -- and the consolation of knowing we've taken the hard path out of love for God.

If our children are not around us, you would never guess which mothers have born baseball-team-sized families, but I think we stand out in the crowd through the looking glass of heaven for the strength we've built in our commitment muscles and the marks that criss-cross our hearts. 

And in the eyes of God, the scars of our sacrifices don't distort us, they transform us.

(Just Kidding)

A Little Method to the Madness

The Breakfast and Books Edition

Books:

1. We have a big ole' red plastic crate where all our library books go (we check out up to twenty at a time, you see, so a good-size crate is necessary). We use the crate to tote our books back and forth to the library and it serves as their "home" while the books are at our house.  The children are permitted to read the library books at any time, but can only take out one at a time and are only supposed to read them in the living room or in the book nook in the dining room. (We've had emergency library book hunts, however, where AWOL books have finally been located under the mattress in a child's room, or in the back seat of the car... Yikes.)

2.  In addition to the library books, we have several bookcases full of our own books, not to mention bins and bins of books still in the barn waiting for us to build a library addition onto the house...  So, lots of books around here.  It's been my life's work (well, one of them, anyway) to teach the children to respect our books: to care for them, to love them, to leave them as they found them.  Theoretically, the children are supposed to have clean hands before they touch a book, and they are not supposed to have the books near food or drinks.  Theoretically they're supposed to have no more than two books out of the bookshelves at a time,which they're supposed to replace before they get any more.  Theoretically. 

We've learned, however, through many years of fighting the children's forgetfulness of these rules that (unless they're borrowed books), it's not worth the headache to enforce them in a detention school fashion.  Seriously.  How can I complain because my teenagers can't eat without a book propped up in front of them?    Is it really such a bad thing, I ask myself, to have toddlers sprawled all over the floor in the middle of a puddle of picture books?  We do pick up all the books when we clean up the house (a house cleaning edition of "Madness" coming soon, btw...), and we do still caution the children to be careful of the books we own, but we don't obsess about them.  It's more important that the kids know that books are friends that they can be comfortable with -- and not be afraid to snuggle up with.  And occasionally spill coffee on.

Breakfast:

3.  We have a pantry in the kitchen full of low sugar cereal, oatmeal, grits, bagels, and toast, and a fridge full of milk, eggs, cream cheese, butter, and jams -- all easily accessible.  And I believe that the first independent thing a child should learn to do is to make his own breakfast.   First of all, it develops independence and an early sense of accomplishment.  Secondly, the simple act of preparing one's own repast in the morning stimulates the brain cells, sharpens the senses, and flexes the muscles.  It cannot be denied that our older children helping our younger children prepare breakfast fosters sibling unity, promotes the virtue of generosity and develops a nurturing spirit. Finally, though, and most importantly, it gives Mom a break in the morning.  (Heaven knows, Moms have enough on their plates!)  Children making their own breakfast.  It's a good thing.

4.  And there's this: Whoever is the last one up at our house has to clean up all the breakfast dishes.  Works marvelously to either get everyone up early, or to get the dishes cleaned up without complaint. You'll occasionally have two sleepyhead teenagers scrambling for the stairs in a loud and groggy attempt to be the next-to-last person down the stairs, of course.  But, it's high entertainment for the rest of the family watching to see who emerges victorious -- and who has to clean the kitchen. 

5.  Also, whenever possible, I coordinate the color of my coffee cup with the outfit I'm wearing.  Makes me feel on top of things in the morning.  (Whatever it takes, ya know?)


Do you have any Books or Breakfast tips to share?  Whatever we can do to improve efficiency or fun, we're up for it!

A Trip to the Library

And, oh, what a library!

Ya gotta go check out this neat thing!

And, Oh, There's This, Too!

The Biggest List Ever of Turkey Crafts over at our all-time favorite crafty blog, Crafty Crow!

(gobblegobble)

(gobblegobble)

(gobblebobble)

Whadda Ya Expect?

As "promised" -- or warned -- last Sunday, this is loooooong....  And I almost didn't post it, because it is so very lengthy, but also because I really worry that it will come off sounding preachy, or like I think I've got it all figured out.  Gosh, I hope anyone reading this who knows me knows I'm not that way.  And anyone who doesn't know me, please understand that I just really want to pass along a few things we've managed to pick up along the way.  Most of this is just good common sense we've learned from other experienced parents or wise Religious through the years, and much of this is information most parents already know... But I thought it would be useful to write it all down, for the sake of my own dwindling brain cells, and in the chance that there may be something here of use to someone else who might need it.  Please take what you like, and ignore the rest, or skip the whole long thing and come back tomorrow when I post something short and fluffy, if you like.  But, for those who may be interested, here we go:


Continuing with the question: What do you expect from your children during Mass?
It's a question I think all Catholic parents wrestle with, one we've been fine-tuning for a long time.  Right now we're instructing our eighth First Communicant (Anna) and have two toddlers after her waiting their turns.  Also, before I married, I taught preschool, and 1st through 3rd grades at a Catholic school, so I've taught scads of preschool through First Holy Communion age children.  Some were sweethearts, some were stinkers, most were a little of both.  But, unique as all children are, no matter the situation, one thing's always true: They're all capable of living up to high expectations.  As long as the expectations are reasonable and they are taught patiently.

Patiently, meaning, we don't expect them to learn overnight. Patiently, meaning we retain our composure and teach with love no matter how we're provoked.  The more uptight we are about anything we're trying to teach, the more uptight the children will be.  And the more uptightight everyone is, the less real learning takes place.  (What the kids learn in these situations -- at best -- is to obey out of fear, and that's never the best way.)

So, what's reasonable?  In my mind, reasonable expectation means not requiring more than the mental or physical ability of a child can muster.  But, don't sell your kids short!  This amounts to more than many folks realize.  It's amazing how much the smallest children can muster, if we expect greatness from them -- and if we teach them to expect it of themselves. 

One thing's for sure, though: if we don't require our children to behave properly, they won't.  If we don't teach them, they can't. 

So, how should we teach them to behave in Mass?  What should we expect?
Certainly, all children are different (some mature a bit more quickly than others; some are thinkers, some are doers; some just have longer attention spans than others), but there are benchmarks that most children should be able to meet, in the broad sense, and specifically as it relates to their behavior in Mass.

First of all, I think we all recognize the "age of reason" as the growing up season, with the reception of First Holy Communion as the concrete dividing line where Church-time behavior is concerned.  I believe that, by the time children reach this age, usually around the ages of six or seven (barring ADD or the like), they are more than capable of sitting still for an hour in Mass, give or take. But, if a child is three years old, we can't expect him to behave perfectly in Mass yet.  Hopefully, he's on his way, but the learning curve can be long sometimes...  For this reason, we don't take our toddlers to movie theaters or formal affairs where they would likely embarass us. In fact, if we have the option of "trading off " Masses, we don't take our toddlers with us to Mass, either.  But when we do take them, we expect our Littles to have learned to at least be quiet in church by the time they're two-and-a-half to three years old.

How, you say?   Well...

Mom and Dad Have to be Trained First
Starting when they're infants we never, ever allow our children to be noisy in the church proper.  This is not a discipline we expect of the baby, mind you, but of ourselves.  If our wee ones start to make a peep, we take them out immediately -- or sooner.  It may seem that three-week-olds are too young to teach, but let me tell you, they're not too young to learn.  When we allow an infant to cry, fuss, wiggle, crawl, etc in church, why shouldn't she assume that's acceptable behavior?  Over time it sinks in: Churchtime is the same as hometime -- with pews.  Not a good precedent to set.  At some point, we're going to have to break a noise or wiggle habit we've allowed to get started -- and it's easier to prevent than to stop it once it's started. 

We also never let our little one's fannies touch the pew, or their feet touch the floor (or kneeler) until we know that when put down they can be trusted to be relatively still and face forward in the pew.  I think most of us have had stare-downs with toddlers in the pews in front of us.  Just a little distracting.  And another bad habit that will have to be broken sooner or later.

Most of our kids have learned to be still and face forward, with very little problem by the time they're three, but we've had a couple of ringers.  There's always at least one in the crowd, and for us, it's been our two kinesthetic learners, Dominic and William, our "on the go" boys. These kinds of children are more of a challenge to train to be still, but it's all the more important to take the time and trouble to do it. Because we couldn't put them down without pandemonium, Dan and I had to hold both of the little chunks all the way through Mass fifty-two weeks a year, plus Holy Days, until they were around three years old.  Stubborn little guys.  But Mom and Dad were more stubborn.  Ha!  (You should see the muscles in my arms from holding toddlers that I couldn't trust to put down!)

Some things we've learned about the infant - toddler stage Mass training: 

* Never allow a wiggleworm to sit next to a sibling who is a temptation.  This seems like an obvious caution, but you might be surprised how many times in a big family, the shuffle gets wrong as we file into the pew, and Mama doesn't notice until there's a donnybrook at the far end.  (And then it's really my head that needs to be rolled...)

* Provide something quiet for an infant to teeth on, or for a toddler to hold -- a small picture missal or saints' book is ideal.  Until a child is three or four years old, we allow them to bring their blankies in, as well.  They're quiet and comforting and not a distraction to anyone around them.

* As a toddler matures, usually before age four, she can be expected to start learning how to fold her hands properly through Mass.  Our rule is that, unless the children are holding a missal (or other prayer book of some kind), their hands should be properly folded.  This is a wonderful discipline for children, especially future altar servers, but it also keeps them from fidgeting, and making noise and distraction. (They generally choose to hold their missals, which is exactly what we want them to do...)

* If all the children are required to visit the restroom before Mass begins (which means Mom and Dad have a duty to get them to Church in time to take care of this detail), noone can use that excuse for leaving Mass.  No child under seven in our family is excused from this mandatory visit, and no child is allowed to leave Mass because they say they need to use the restroom.  If they can sit through a two hour movie without going to the bathroom, they can last through Mass, as well.

* Always, always, always feed the pre-Communion children before coming to Mass.  I cannot stress this enough.  There is no reason to expect small children to fast before Mass, and everyone around them will have to pay for their crankiness if they're hungry.  (We prepare small baggies of dry cereal ahead of time -- the lower sugar variety -- so the Littles can eat them on the go, while everyone else is dressing, or in the car on the way to Mass.)

* On the other hand, never, never, never allow children to eat in the church (except for baby bottles).  This sets up a precedent you will eventually have to break, it litters the church, and is a distraction to everyone around you -- especially other small children.  If a small child has been fed before coming to Mass, he can and should be quietly distracted when necessary with something besides food.  Or he can be brought out.

Now, you might have noticed (and you might have lived the fact), that many of us parents spend a lot of time in the vestibule or cry room.  I often feel like I've logged more time outside the church than inside the church during Mass over the last twenty-two years! You may want to speak to your own parish priest about it, but I've been assured that I've fulfilled my Sunday obligation from the cry room. My leaving in order to allow others to assist at Mass without distraction more than makes up for the amount of time I might have spent in the church, also distracted by my crying child.


By the time they're walking and talking...
With our encouragement, and, as the years go by, the encouragement of their older siblings,
Mass day is a day the children all look forward to. The Littles want to know when they get to go to Jesus' House (Gabe is always asking,"When is Church day?), and the older children are all talk about what Mass the choir will be singing for the season or feast. And I want to be clear that this isn't an accident of geneological piety; I don't want to sound like I'm bragging here. Our kids can act out with the best of them! There are days when I'd like to give the whole gang of them to the next passing caravan of gypsies. (Bless their hearts...) But, over time, they do learn that Jesus' House is not the place to try their luck. They come to understand with their hearts and heads the sacrifice of love at which they're assisting. It's bad enough to displease Mom and Dad, but it's humiliating to displease Our Lord -- there present in the tabernacle.

How we help the love along...

All human beings understand and respond to affection, and the best way for a child to understand the abstract notion of God's Love is to receive it through the gentle hands of his parents. Children love to be where love is, and it's up to us to make sure our children make this association with their Faith, particularly through the Mass. Mass time should be a happy time.  Like I already mentioned,  we never allow crying or whining in the Church, because we don't want it  to be a conditioned response every time we walk in the church building. On the other hand, though, we do everything we can to promote "warm fuzzies" while we're there.  Throughout the Mass, we give subtle winks of encouragement and hugs, or a small thumbs-up if a child is staying on the right page in their missal. If we ever need to correct the children, it's with a smile and a pat. It's only the most egregious and purposeful misbehaviour that is punished -- and then, that's done away from the church, so that no bad associations can be made subliminally.  And, then there are doughnuts.  The children know that doughnuts or some other treat awaits the well-behaved child after Mass is over.  Sometimes, I think this is really the only reason the children behave.  It's all about the sugar.  But, hey, it contributes to the "warm fuzzy" memories, and you know about bribery -- it works. 

Beyond Toddlers
Once we've laid a good foundation with our infants and toddlers, training our First Communicants has never been much trouble.  The hard work has already been done.  Every year, we spend time going over the Mass with all of the children during our school day so the smallest grow up learning the importance of the Holy Sacrifice.  When we begin our formal First Communion Catechism, we explain abstractly and physically what reverence and courtesy mean during Mass. 

Here is a little exercise to play out every so often for the benefit of all the children, toddlers and up:

Get a child conspirator (usually the hammiest one you've got) and have him act out "good child/ bad child" scenarios.
 

Set up:  Fancy up a chair for a pretend throne for the first lesson, then, if you have a free-standing kneeler and a chair, set up a mini pew for your second demonstration.  (Alternatively, two chairs, one in front of the other, with a pillow on the floor betwen works fine.)  First, you're going to play out the Queen of England routine:  Explain ahead of time what protocol is in the English court.  You could even make it a mini-school unit, if you wanted. (Go here  for some specifics on royalty courtesy.)   Teach the girls how to curtsy and the boys to bow. 

What next: You get to be the queen of course (unless someone else is an obvious choice!), you choose a royal guard (Dad is really the best for this job, but an older brother works well, too), and you set up the secret "lout" (Your ham...).  When everything's ready, and everyone knows the protocol, the queen gets to process regally into the room. The children behave appropriately.  Except for the lout.  And the Royal Guard escorts him out, while everyone else gets to either be knighted or given a royal petit four (or somesuch).    

Next comes a talk about how the queen of England expects and deserves certain respect here upon earth.  Most would never dream of misbehaving if they were invited to visit the queen.  We would not chew gum; we would not slouch in our chairs; we would not talk to someone else while she was speaking; we would not play with our cell phones or i-pods.  We would sit up straight and face where the queen was sitting; we would use our best English, speak when we were spoken to,  we would be clean and tidy; we would smell nice, and we would wear the nicest clothes we own.  All this, and Queen Elizabeth is a mere woman.  

You know, of course, where this is going. 

(Mad Little Boy illustration, below, by Maurice Sendak)

Our next scene, we place before the crucifix, and/or a facsimile altar, if we can arrange one, with our little "chair-pew" set up before it.  Everyone watches while our ham exhibits all the wrong postures.  (If your ham is creative and observant, he won't need to be prepped for this... but you can get with him or her ahead of time and script it if it makes you feel more comfortable.)  Once your ham is in place in the pew, and everyone is sitting behind watching,  Mom says, "Should Johnny or Jenny Q. Public  sit like this? (Our ham slouches).  Everyone says "No! How Rude!" and expresses other noises of disapproval.  "Should we sit like this?" Mom says. (And our ham hangs his armpits over the pew).  Everyone shouts, "No! How Rude!"  "How about like this?" (and our ham turns all the way around, staring at those of us behind him...) Everyone responds as before...  You get the idea.  Then, we have our ham exhibit the proper way to sit, stand, and kneel through Mass, followed by our praise. We connect the "courtesies" of court with the greater reverence we owe to Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.  Our genuflection is akin to a curtsy or bow, and our proper posture, dress and decorum are the very least we owe Our Lord when we visit Him in His earthly home.    Properly, the discussion ends with a prayer uniting our prayers to all the Masses being offered in the world.  This kind of visual, interactive lesson sticks with children, and the more fun we make it, the better they'll remember it. 

Some of our favorite resources to teach the children to understand and appreciate the Mass:
* Know Your Mass: An illustrated manual of instruction on the Traditional Mass in Latin for Catholics young and old.
* The Mass Explained to Children by Maria Montessori
* The Weight of a Mass; A Tale of Faith, by Josephine Nobisso
* Manners in God's House: First Prayers and First Missal

Daily Preparation

We prepare for Mass all through the week by following the daily feasts, and keeping current with the seasons of the Liturgical year.  After every set of prayers, morning prayers, prayers at mealtime, and evening prayers, we ask the benediction of the saint of the day, for example.  So, today (November 15th), we will end our prayers with: St. Albert the Great, pray for us.  This is an immediate connection with the Mass of the day, even when we cannot attend (which is most of the time, because we don't have access to daily Mass where we live.) It's good, during the week, to say things like, "This morning, we get to read about St. Albert the Great!" and, "Isn't it wonderful? Two more days until we get to go to Mass!" Words mean things and children readily pick up on their subtle implications.   During Advent we add special prayers every day, as well as during Lent and on Ember Days, and, when we can, we liven up our studies with crafts and projects that mirror the season and reinforce their meanings in our spiritual lives.  It's our goal to try and make our home a "Church in Miniature," but also a place where playing, praying and learning go hand in hand. 

We expect a lot of our children's behavior in church, and outside of it, and we spend a lot of time drilling exactly what we expect -- and why. Courtesy and respect are so much a focus of our day-to-day lives that, by the time the children have reached the age of reason, they've heard it all a thousand times, and they're probably sick of it, but, whether they like it or not, it's started to sink into the fiber of their beings.  They learn to expect good behaviour of themselves.  They're embarassed when they slip up, and scandalized when they see others behaving badly. The older they get, the more conscientious they become. (Yes, even the teenagers!)

What we expect, in a nutshell:
* That we will be spening a lot of time outside the church proper until the baby learns to be quiet and calm.
* By the age of 3, the children should know to be quiet and fairly still.
* By the time they're good and potty-trained (usually by 3 1/2 to 4 at the latest), they should not leave the pew for any reason other than sickness (or in the case that they need to be reprimanded).

* By 5, they should be able to fold their hands through Mass or quietly hold their children's missal, and try to follow, using the pictures. Reminding will usually be necessary at this age, but it shouldn't be met with resistance.
* By 6, they should not need to be reminded to follow their missals or to reverently participate in the rubrics along with the congregation.
* By 7, they should be able to follow the Mass in a simple missal, and should be relatively recollected.  If their minds wander, they should obediently refocus attention when reminded by Mom or Dad.

* By 10, they should no longer need to be reminded, but should be engaged throughout the Mass. They should know how to find and follow the daily prayers in their missals and should understand what's going on.  By this age, the little boys in our family have already studied to become acolytes, and our girls are joining the choir.

Ultimately, it's all about expectations

Children love to be in a place where they are loved.  They have an instinct to please and  can learn to respond to the most subtle of clues and teachings. But it requires diligence on our part to train them to behave appropriately to the proper cues.  They need to have a clear understanding of what we expect of them in Mass, and we need to help them develop a high expectation of themselves.  How we train our children in their daily routines will largely determine their aptitude and willingness to cooperate with us in this.  It's important that we build and hone our expectations throughout the week, not just spring them on the children on Sunday morning.   The more pleasant we make our children's experience with their Faith, the more lasting will be the result of our labor.    If a child's time spent at Mass is consistently filled with conflict and frowns and warnings, he's not likely to associate Mass with good things, or God with Love -- His or theirs or yours. On the contrary, he learns to expect a rotten time at Church, and he's likely to be rotten, too.  Thankfully, we have the tools as parents to prevent this, and the younger we start the better -- for their good, and ours, too. 

Our children are the dearest gifts that God gives us; and  He expects great things of us on their behalf.  We get to show Him our best work when we can face Him truly present on the altar, our children all around us, loving and honoring Him together, everyone trying their best to please.  Our Savior deserves no less -- and we should expect no less of ourselves and our children.

Almost Free Craft for a Winter's Evening...

Check out this Newspaper Basket tutorial at How About Orange!

Happy Birthday, Anna Banana

Anna, Anna, Banana
Banana Fana Fo Fanna
Fee Fi Mo Manna --
Anna! 

Seven Years Old Today!

(Back online, btw... &:o)

Interrupting Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

...because something's up with our modem.  I'm only on here now because Dan's laptop happens to be home with him tonight -- doing that magical thing it does without being hooked up to anything...But, I don't usually have access to the little wonder-puter.  I need mine fixed!  I'll back as soon as we figure outhe problem. 

Blessings to all,

~ Lisa

Martinmas and Veterans' Day

Today we enjoy the perfect pairing of saecular and religious feasts!  St. Martin, the patron saint of soldiers (among a kazillion other things!) is the idea patron for our highly deserving veterans.  Dear St. Martin of Tours, please pray for all of our soldiers, deployed, at home stations, retired, and deceased.  They need your intercession now more than ever!

The Feast of St. Martin of Tours

The life story of this soldier saint can be found here.
Many beautiful images of St. Martin can be found here.

Catholic Culture and Fisheaters both have a slew of information on the feast and its traditions.
And, as always, you can find wonderful feasting ideas for the day at Catholic Cuisine.
You can listen to Iste Confessor, a hymn composed in honor of St. Martin over at utube.
And there's another great coloring page for the day at Waltzing Matilda.

Today is a good day to make charitable donations to the poor. In honor of St. Martin, finding and donating our good unused coats, hats, gloves, and scarves is especially fitting!

Veterans' Day

In charity today, we also remember our veterans of war, living and dead.

Here is a site dedicated to prayers just for veterans.
To send Bp. Fulton J. Sheen's Wartime Prayer book to our soldiers, go here.
To learn about Ranger Rosaries, go here, and to make and send some yourself, click here.



*In case you might have recognized it, this is indeed, a repost from last year. &:o)

Random Dozen

This week's questions from Second Cup of Coffee -- and I'm afraid you might need to tuck in with a second cup to get through all these... I'm concise as always here (grin-grin).

1. What was the last song you listened to?

Gabey is in the kitchen right now, washing the last of the dishes (actually just a couple little plates and cups we left for him) while singing a family favorite, the "Doodlesack Song" ---  the German rendition of  "I am a Fine Musician."  ("Doodlesack" is the German word for "bagpipes.")

2. Have you ever had “buyer’s remorse” over anything? 

Oh, yes.  A Ford Taurus station wagon, that I loved and regretted at the same time.  It was a rotten car.  Rotten.  And it cost too much, but it was a gift of love from my husband.  I told him when he got it for me that he shouldn't have done it.

 And he really shouldn't have. 

Picture the early nineties...  We had gone car shopping for our first serious car of our young marred life.  We really needed a bigger car, having outgrown our miniscule first car, an eensy weensy 3 cylinder Chevy Sprint.   (Three car seats and two adults wouldn't fit in that little car no matter how we tried to work it.)  So, it was with a gleeful spring in our steps, but no small amount of trepidation (because we had a limited budget to say the least), that we made our way around the car lots, always heading first to the embarassed "back corner" cars.   You know these cars: the poor, orphaned trade-ins, shined up and sprayed with new-car-smell, shyly, but hopefully  trying to cover their mileage and dings -- and the skeletons under their hoods.   We saw a few dozen of those after pounding the pavement for a few hours, and fending off a few hundred smiling salesmen. But our steps were losing some spring, and our enthusiasm was losing ground to trepidation.  Anything that was in our price range was either too small or in the death rattle stages of its automotive life.  It was about the time we started thinking seriously about strapping one of our toddlers to the hood of the Sprint that we stumbled across a car we thought might do the trick.  It was a beat-up old station wagon, wrapped around with a faded and cracked wood-panel siding and pocked with hail damage -- I don't remember the make or model; I only remember it was ugly.  I mean uh.uh.uh.gly.  But it was cheap and the engine ran like a top.  This was the prudent car, the one we really needed to get.  Dan said so. 

A couple of times.

And I was willing to settle. But, then... we saw "it." On the way back to another "back corner" of the same lot, we passed a gleaming silver Ford Taurus station wagon.  And it was bee-you-tee-ful!  It was newer, it smelled nice, and it had all the bells and whistles.  I loved it, needless to say, and in my heart o'hearts, I coveted it something terrible.  But, it was twice the price of anything else we'd looked at, and, yes, I agreed (sigh), it was more prudent to get the old beat up woody back on the other side of the showroom.  So sad, so sad...  We went home to think it over. 

And, overnight, inspired by I-know-not-what-exactly, Dan... my dear, dear Dan, my husband, the accountant decided to get the Taurus.  Even though it was really more money than we wanted to spend. And it really was living above our means...  But, my husband wanted to get it for me, so I could finally have something nice.  How could I say no?

Well, as it turned out, I really should have.  We drive the highways and byways of Colorado to this day and point out the many various spots in the road where we konked out in the Taurus.  That car died any time the the engine got hotter than a suntan.  And nobody could fix it, though we spent plenty of money trying. 

Yes, we had serious buyers' remorse over that car...  But, I can't help but think about it, still, with a special fondness -- because it was such a sweet thought.  And, sometimes it is the thought that counts. 

3. What is something in your life that you are thankful for now that you didn’t think you would be at the time of the event? (Something that seemed ill-timed, inconvenient or hurtful which turned out to be a good thing)

 OK. Have time for another car story? Just the other day, we went out hunting for a car for Kevin (second son, 20 y.o.). The old starter car  (the old family Saab) he'd been using just died and he needs wheels for school and work.  So, we went to see one car, a minivan, that sounded really good on paper, but which turned out to be junk.  Then, we hooked up with another car we thought was going to be a great deal.  It had some problems: the back bumper was loose and the tailpipe needed to be refastened because it had recently been in a rear-end collision; there were some odd bumps and knocks in the engine; and the interior was positively nauseous with the smell of second-hand smoke.  But it got good gas mileage, was well within Kevin's price range (which is next to nothing...), and it seemed like it would work for an "in-between" kind of vehicleto hold him over until he starts making money and can upgrade.  But... as we were on our way to go take a second look and probably buy it, the owner texted us saying it had just sold.

  Dang.
 

Then, a couple of days later,  Kevin got a call back from an inquiry he'd made on Craigslist about a Saab 900.    When we went out to see it, we realized that busting on other cars had been a blessing in disguise; our saints were watching out for us!  Though it had a little body damage, this Saab really did have a great engine, with no funny knocks or noises.  The tailpipe and fenders were all firmly in place, and it had a clean carfax report, with no history of wrecks or any other damage or difficulty.  In fact, the car was practically immaculate, especially for it's age.  (It's older than Kevin: twenty-three years old!)  But, the owner had every receipt and every scrap of information about the car from way back when it had been shipped over from Sweden!  He even had the original owner's manual.  Plus new tires and a slew of recent work done.  And though it was a little more expensive than the other two cars, it was worth more than twice the amount of  either of them and came in under bluebook value.  Woohoo! Third shot on goal... and... SCORE!

4. Do you watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade every year? If so, do you have a favorite float or balloon?

Yes, we have to peel potatoes while watching the parade.  It's a tradition.  Even though we all loathe the stupid Broadway productions.  Sheesh!  We want to see more of the marching bands!  And more information about how the floats are made!  We want background that is really interesting instead of the drivel the parade anchors usually serve us.  But, floats? We love Snoopy!  And Woodstock, of course.

5. Share a quote, scripture, poem or lyric which has been an inspiration to you lately.


We must pray without tiring, for the salvation of mankind does not depend on material success; nor on sciences that cloud the intellect. Neither does it depend on arms and human industries, but on Jesus alone. -- St. Frances Xavier Cabrini

And, this one's not so much "inspiring" as thought-provoking:

"Idolatry is committed, not merely by setting up false gods, but also by setting up false devils; by making men afraid of war or alcohol, or economic law, when they should be afraid of spiritual corruption and cowardice." - G. K. Chesterton  ILN 9/11/09


6. This is meant to be a fun question, and this is a G-rated blog, but please share a “guilty pleasure,” something that you enjoy that’s probably not the most edifying, time-worthy or healthy thing you could be indulging in. Did I mention--G rating?
I love to eat popcorn and cheese every Wednesday night and watch the newest adventures of the Ghost Hunters.

7. What Thanksgiving food are you looking forward to?
Pumpkin pie, walnut dressing, my Mom's sweet potato fluff.

8. What is your favorite book to read to children, or what was your favorite childhood book? Chapter books: Mark Twain is sooo much fun to read!  I love to do the accents.  And Tom and Huck are a hoot to read for.  Picture books:  We loved Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs before it came to the big screen -- and, just off the top of my head, there's The Piggy in the Puddle, and the Forty-six Little Men that I just recently read.  And we love all the I Spy books... Gosh, there are too many to name!

9. Do you collect anything? (Feel free to post a photo.) Oh, gosh...  Tons of things. 1940s and '50s compacts, tiny husband and wife salt and pepper shakers, short story anthologies from the first part of the twentieth century, religious images (statues and prints) and books, Cathedral Basic Readers from the forties and fifties, and cute little Davis children. (Tons of photos of that last collectible if you scroll down the blog a bit, I think...)

10. Gift bags or wrapping paper? Gift bags for the odd birthday when I have a bag I can recycle...  But usually it's wrapping paper -- especially at Christmas time.  And I love to make special bows with beautiful ribbon.

11. Share an after-school memory from when you were younger. What was your routine like on an average day? 

Picture the 70s....  I would ride home on the bus with my brothers and sisters from Catholic school to the Navy base where we invariably lived.  Once I got home, since I always wore shorts under my uniform, I would just take off my skirt, throw it on my bedroom floor, and run out to play in my school blouse and shorts until my Mom told me to " pick up my uniform and come in and change into play clothes, for heaven's sake!" Mom would usually have a small snack waiting for us, it seems, but I don't know that I ate it; we weren't allowed to go outside until our homework was done, so I didn't have time to waste eating.   Daylight was burning! So much to do, so little time. So, I'd fly through my homework and run outside where my siblings ( I have six) and I and a neighborhood friend or two would play outside until dinner time: games like hide-n-seek or Red Rover -- or play-acting, chase games like Cowboys and Indians, Soldiers and Prisoners, Pirates and Captives...  We climbed trees, jumped off fences, rode bikes, and just ran.  (Remember being a kid and just. running? What happened to that energy?) 

Then my Mom would call us for dinner and we'd come a-running, because there was a big price to pay if we were late: no after-dinner playing!  Horror of horrors. This is what we lived for; we had to go out and play some more, until the streetlights came on and we had to go inside.  Then it was family rosary, washing up, brushing teeth, and bedtime.  And when we were very little, my mother would sing to us at bedtime.   From those days in elementary school, I still remember the words to Down in the Valley,  Windy, and Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ra, among others...

Good memories.

12. True story: Once, in a job interview, I was asked this question and told there would be no clarifying; I simply had to answer the question: “When you’re fishing, do you feel for the fish?” So what about you? When you're fishing, do you feel for the fish??

I never go fishing.  Fishing is boring. But, when I was a kid, growing up near the waterways of Chesapeake Bay, VA, we would go crabbing -- with nothing but a string, a chicken bone, a weight, a net, and a bucket.  You really have to have the "feel" to catch a crab this way.  Not to mention patience, and nerves of steal.  Here's the M.O.: you tie the weight (usually a piece of trash-metal or a long, skinny rock) and the chicken bone (preferable with a little bit of meat still on it) to the string, and you sit on the edge of the pier, with the net and bucket (and preferably a helper) near at hand.  You gently, gently, gently lower the weighted chicken bone down into the water until it rests on the bottom.  You hold the string loosely, but firmly in your hands -- then you sit and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Until, hopefully, you begin to feel a vibration, or even as much as a bit of tugging on the string.  Then, you slowly, slowly, slowly, gently, gently, gently begin to draw the string back up to the surface.  You don't breath.  You don't talk. You don't even smile.  The idea is to trick the crabs; they. must. not. know. they. are. moving. up. through. the. water.  It's painstaking, slow business.  Ever. so. slow... 

But, then, when you glimpse the crabs as they rise up through the murky water, it's all excitement.  You've got to move fast. You've got to be accurate.  This is where a good helper comes in mighty handy! As soon as you spot the crabs, someone has to go in after them with the net.  It's possible to both hold the string and scoop with the net, but I don't recommend it.  An expert touch is too key with the net-handling.  You see, it's like this: in order to keep the crabs dumb and happy, nibbling on the chicken, oblivious of their impending doom, you have to slip the net into the water noislessly, without a splash, but very quickly -- down, and under the crabs.  Then it has to be snapped up in an instant!   If the crabs let go of the chicken bone before you're under them with the net, you've lost 'em, and you have to start all over again.  And, I swear, the crabs are wiser the second time around.  After you've had "jumpers," you'll have to stake out a new spot for hunting if you want to catch anything at all.

Be warned, though: Once you're victorious, got your crabs in the net, and done your happy dance on the end of the pier, you're not done yet;  you still have to detangle their snapping pinchers from the mesh of the net and dump them in the bucket without dropping them over the side -- or losing a finger.  That's the really fun part!  If you bring home a bucket of crabs for supper, you've earned them. You sure as heck don't feel sorry for the buggers!

But, gee... It's fun to look back. What memories I have of long humid, summer days crabbing!  When you're a kid living these things, you  never guess they're moments that will stay with you the rest of your life.  Those days on the water, though...  I can recall them perfectly still, thirty-odd years later.   The  long hours of boredom with sudden moments of high excitement and intense challenge. The danger.   The disappointment.  The hope.  The smell.   I think it prepared me for  motherhood.

Happy Birthday to the United States Marines!

Salute To: Our Marine-in-Waiting, Paul (who will be commissioned this winter after he graduates from college), and all his comrades out there!  (Special salute to Jess and Cheryle!)

Health Care Rx

This one's going the rounds of the internet, and tells it pretty much how it is, I think:

We are so doomed!


To President Obama and all 535 voting members of the Legislature,
It is now official you are ALL corrupt morons:

The U.S. Post Service was established in 1775 You have had 234 years to get it right and it is broke.

Social Security was established in 1935. You have had 74 years to get it right and it is broke.

Fannie Mae was established in 1938. You have had 71 years to get it right and it is broke.

War on Poverty started in 1964. You have had 45 years to get it right; $1 trillion of our money is confiscated each year and transferred to "the poor" and they only want more.

Medicare and Medicaid were established in 1965. You have had 44 years to get it right and they are broke.

Freddie Mac was established in 1970. You have had 39 years to get it right and it is broke.

The Department of Energy was created in 1977 to lessen our dependence on foreign oil. It has ballooned to 16,000 employees with a budget of $24 billion a year and we import more oil than ever before. You had 32 years to get it right and it is an abysmal failure.

You have FAILED in every "government service" you have shoved down our throats while overspending our tax dollars AND YOU WANT AMERICANS TO BELIEVE YOU CAN BE TRUSTED WITH A GOVERNMENT-RUN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM??

Heaven, help us, America!

Simple Woman Monday, November 9th

What I've been thinking...  Time flies so quickly!  Paul and Nicole have been married for a month now already.  Before I blink again, the next pair will be walking down the aisle.  Slow down, clock!

I am reading... Myself: The Darkness Does Not, by William Biersach  To the children: Coffee With Nonna and The Adventures of  Tom Sawyer

What I'm wearing... Brown, velvet jeans, a light blue knit blouse and a dark blue cardigan with brown buttons

What's new...  Kevvy is home from the seminary, having discovered that God's voice was not calling him there, but we're seeing an awful lot of Alena, lately, so we're thinking we know what God's voice may be saying.  (Or at least what Kevin is hearing...)

I am hoping...  We can find a cheap, but reliable car for Kevvy to drive to school and work with.

I'm thankful for...   Getting to spend time around such really awesome young people.  It keeps me young.
We're creating... A space in the cellar (and if you've ever seen the pictures, you know this isnot much space) for Mrs. Santa's Workshop.  (More on that later)

A few plans for the rest of the week... Nursing Dan back to health -- and trying to stay well myself.  All the children took their turns being sick last week, and Dan took his turn over the weekend.  The kids all had nasty chest colds, but Dan's illness seems worse; we're wondering if he's getting his turn with the H1N1, since he didn't get it when everyone else did.

Some of my favorite things (and From the Kitchen)... Spiced Pumpkin Latte, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cookies with cream cheese frosting...  Thinking about pumpkin this morning -- with nutmeg, cinnamon, and allspice... Gonna have to do some baking this afternoon.  Except I'm supposed to be on a diet.  Blasted diet.  Drat it.  Never mind.

Here's a picture thought I'm sharing...

Gabe and William in the book nook...

Go see Peggy for lots of Daybooks today!

Coralling Little Sheep

In her Quick Takes last Friday, Aubrey, over at Laughing All the Way asked of us Catholic moms, particularly of our First Communicants:

"What do you expect of your child at Mass? Aside from being still and quiet, does he pay attention all of the time and seem interested in what is going on?"

I've been thinking about the answer to this question.  It's pertinent to me, and has been for a long time, seeing as we're working on our eighth First Holy Communicant now (Anna).

Second question first: No, honestly, my newly-initiated First Communicants don't pay attention all the time during Mass.  And no,they don't always seem interested in what's going on.

Now the first question:  What do I expect?  I expect them to try to pay attention and be engaged in what's going on.  And I expect them to improve as they grow older.


It's a learning process for all of us, this understanding of the Holy Sacrifice, and, I don't know about you, but I have troubles staying focused all the way through Mass, myself.  If you're an extrovert, if you're an introvert; if you're a parent, if  you're a child, if you're tired, if you're hungry, if you're human -- you'll be tempted to distraction during Mass.  But, if we want to stay focused, and keep pulling ourselves back around to Jesus' iminent and then actual presence on the altar... If we're trying to follow in our missals and are doing our best not to  mentally rearrange the hair of the girl in front of us...  Well, I do believe God sees and appreciates our effort -- and our success as we improve our focus.  We get credit.  Maybe more so the harder we struggle.
 

But, think about it.  Children, with their high energy and short attention spans, have a greater challenge than we do to avoid wiggling and scratching.  Or playing games with their fingers.  Or making faces at their siblings.  Or ripping kleenex into a million tiny pieces.  Or arranging and rearranging holy cards like they're strategizing a holy poker hand.  But, bless them, it is possible; the little sweethearts really can learn to be still and quiet during Mass. With our diligence.  And they can learn to love the Mass.   By the time they receive their First Communion, children should be expected to try to follow in their little missals as well as they can.  And it's our job, as their parents, to have half an eye on where their brains are so we can gently and lovingly redirect their focus if they fall to woolgathering.  It usually only takes a tap, a smile, and a finger pointed up to the altar to bring them back around. And,while some children almost never need reminding, our gentle persistence will guide the rest of them, and even the fidgetiest among them can be focused and truly assisting at Mass by the time he's ten years old -- twelve at the outside...

 

IF...
 

 Mom and Dad have prepared the children at home: if the Faith is something a family lives throughout the week, and the Mass is taught to the children, as a subject dearer and more important than the the athletics they play or the hobbies they pursue; if self control and courtesy are the norm in their household; and if Mass-time is connected in their hearts and souls with love, comfort, and peace. It's a long, hard struggle sometimes, but one with eternal benefits.
 
* I have a lengthier post saved that explains in more detail how we train our children for Mass.  I don't know if it's something of interest or not, though...  What do you think?  It's kinda long.  Maybe I'll put it out there next Sunday?