The Blog Dare

I confess:  I have no idea what I want my blog to be.  Is it about what it's like to live in a small town?  Is it about raising a big family?  Being Catholic?  Being pro-life?  Homeschooling?  I figure that I'm all of those things and if I try to focus on only one aspect, I'll be shutting out parts that are vitally important to me.

Also, I ask:  Who is my audience?  Me?  My family and friends?  My fellow parishioners, villagers, prolifers or the World Wide Unmet?  Sure!

I'm not like those awesome blogs with a theme and a targeted audience and revenue.  I'm just me writing to myself, really, about stuff that I think about.  Basically my blog can be summed up by one of my favorite sayings:

I saw something called a Blog Dare at Bloggy Moms.com.  It is a different writing prompt for every day of this year.  Today's prompt is "The least touristy place I like to go to 'get away'."  Oh, this is going to sound pretty lame.

I like to take a magazine, go to a fast food joint and eat and read in my car... all by myself.  It's half an hour of blissful silence.  I get to read entire articles from start to finish without any distractions.  No one needs me to do anything while I'm trying to eat my dinner.  On the drive there and back, I may even listen to the radio... loudly.  I don't listen to the radio when the children are with me because it's pretty much a cesspool.  But when they're not with me I like to dip my toe into the pool and sing along with Bon Jovi.  Of course, when I come into the house humming "Living on a Prayer" Pete snarks "Gore supporter" and the bloom falls off the rose.

An Unexpected Visitor

  So Planned Parenthood has its own Internet Service Provider and is signed up to receive 40 Days for Life emails.  Well, welcome!  Are you familiar with Abby Johnson?  She was the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic, after working there for eight years.  She knows that you want to help women, especially women in crisis.  She has this to say about the work that she did:

Did I help women?  Sure.  I remember many of the women that I helped…the woman who hadn’t had an exam in ten years, the woman who needed testing because her husband had been unfaithful, the woman who had never been checked for diabetes but was then diagnosed because we finally ran the test.  I remember all of these women.  I remember all of their stories.  I helped them.  I helped them received the healthcare they needed, the healthcare they deserved.  You know what else I remember?  I remember the day I watched a 13-week old fetus fight for its life during an abortion procedure.  I remember looking at the bodies of aborted babies while I accounted for their arms, legs, and head.  I remember being able to determine if the baby was a boy or girl.

Abby couldn't take it anymore and she left.  She was scared... scared of losing her income, her friends, her former belief system.  But she says that she has found great peace and she wants that for each of you.  So do I.  None of the pro-lifers I know vilify clinic workers.  When we see you drive by, we feel bad for you and so we pray.  You look so sad and somber.  That's understandable.  You're taking a pregnant woman in crisis and rather than solving her crisis, you're killing her baby. 

Wouldn't you like the joy that comes from helping a woman find real solutions to her problems and that allows her child to be born?  Prolife workers get that joy.  We get to see the relief on women's faces when we help them get food stamps or rent money or job referals.  Then we get to see the joy on their faces when they hold their babies.  No one has ever regretted her child, but many do regret their abortions.

So you're going to be seeing a lot of me.  If you ever feel like talking, I'd be happy to listen without judgment.  I won't curse at you or insult you.  I'd sure appreciate the same.  Let's work together to help the women and girls who come to your clinic because they feel like they have no other choice.  They shouldn't have to choose between their child or their life.  They deserve better.  So do you.

40 Days for Life

When you live in a small town, it can be easy to forget what evil abounds in bigger towns.  I quit reading Detroit's newspapers because we no longer live in a suburb-of and I was tired of a daily dose of murder and mayhem.  I prefer our local paper where we learn of the theft of loose change.

But it's not good to ignore the evil that abounds just because it's not happening in one's backyard.  So when I heard about the 40 Days for Life campaign that began last week I felt called to get involved.  From September 28th through November 6th prolife people around the world are keeping a prayerful vigil at abortion clinics.

Today I picked up Michael from his college classes and he, Caroline and I made the short drive to the Planned Parenthood clinic.  I did not want to go.  Boy, did I not want to go.  I told my children (really to remind myself) that courage is not the absence of fear but doing what needs to be done anyway.  Thankfully the vigil director was there and able to give us some guidance before he left.

I love to go to our church during Eucharistic Adoration.  That is being in the presence of heaven.  But this... praying at an abortion clinic... this is being in the presence of hell.  The peace of the church sanctuary is replaced by being in the midst of spiritual warfare.  The Lord and His angels are there, offering strength, courage and wisdom.  But so, too, are demons who seek to inspire death and despair.  The battle may be unseen but it is palpable.

On Tuesdays they don't perform abortions so we had a gentler introduction to a prayer vigil.  It was sunny and warm so we were very comfortable kneeling in prayer.  In fact, it all seemed "too easy".  I wasn't sure we would be meriting much graces in such a pleasant environment.  We prayed a Chaplet of Divine Mercy and the rosary.  We felt protected by a supernatural peace.

The vigil director recommended that we pray for but ignore the security guard for the clinic, Bernie.  It seems that Bernie is a hardened soul who feels the need to taunt people who are quietly praying.  Sure enough, as the children and I knelt in quiet prayer Bernie came over near us with his hose to spray off the prolife words that had been chalked onto the pavement.  Only there weren't any prolife words currently chalked on the pavement.  I think Bernie was just trying to intimidate us.  We did wonder if he would "accidently" turn the hose on us.  I almost wished he would... just think of the graces we could have merited!

Unfortunately for Bernie, his tactics backfired.  The water from his hose caught the sunshine and made the prettiest rainbow.  Then the pavement smelled sweet, like after a spring rain.  When he was done spraying he began singing or whistling or something.  We couldn't tell because we were focused on our prayers.   I've got great hopes for Bernie, though.  There have been those more involved in the abortion industry than him experience a softening of their hearts and a repentence of their work.

Before we knew it our hour had passed and another person arrived to pray.  I had to get home to take care of my little ones.  We're going back to the clinic later this week.  I may take my little guys in the hope of touching a mother's heart so that she'll reconsider the destruction that awaits her inside of the clinic.

Fall Fun!

Now this is what I'm talkin' about!  A field trip with our friends to an apple orchard, on a beautiful autumn day.  We had apple cider, donut holes, made beeswax candles, took a wagon ride, picked apples and pumpkins and fed the farm animals.

October is the month that makes living in Michigan worth it.  We were so blessed today to be surrounded by friends while having some quintessential fall fun.  The beauty of homeschooling is that we were available to get together on a weekday morning, making us the only ones there.

Here is Harold with the heavy pumpkin he is hoisting:

Limitations of the Written Word

Behind the scenes of this humble blog I have a gizmo that indicates how many visitors stop by and where in the world they are located.  It doesn't tell me who stops by, but sometimes it shows what brought them here... whether it was a link on another blog or if someone Googled "small town".

I noticed today that I had a number of visitors from a Catholic site.  I decided to re-read my latest post to see what they would see and I was disturbed by the realization that I didn't sound very Catholic.  This jumped out at me when I re-read the parts about being pregnant three years in a row and losing one of the babies.  I'm afraid I sounded a bit cavalier and ungrateful.

The thing is, those who know me know that I am anything but cavalier and ungrateful about those pregnancies.  They also know that I tend to be somewhat sarcastic.  Not the mean spirited, attacking others sort of sarcasm but the self-deprecating, fatalistic kind.

So I wonder... if someone doesn't know me, mightn't they read me say that in 2008 I got pregnant and lost the baby, so that autumn season was no fun and think that I'm shallow and heartless?  While those who do know me know how overjoyed I was to have been blessed with another child and how deeply I mourned her loss.  And still do.

Here's my little addendum for my new visitors:  Hi!  Welcome!  I just want you to know how very thankful I am for those three pregnancies.  They were a gift and worth every sacrifice.  The physical sufferings and the grief of loss were offered up for the conversion of sinners and for the poor souls in Purgatory.  The Lord can not be outdone in generosity, of course, and those autumn-wrecking pregnancies led to my two beautiful little boys and my precious St. Veronica, who I intend to meet someday.

And now I wish I had worn waterproof mascara today!

It's Fall!

Well, maybe not for a few more days but I'm too excited to wait much longer!  It's time for picking apples and taking wagon rides... getting jugs of locally made apple cider... picking pumpkins and picking out costumes.  I've got catalogs for craft kits that I want to make and outdoor decorations and indoor decorations!  The children are excited, too, thankfully.

I was wondering why I'm so excited this year?  I've got more plans than I can keep straight but why this year?  Then I went back through the years in my mind and realized something surprising.  We haven't celebrated this season in five years. 

2010:  We spent all of September in the hospital with a critically ill newborn and I had emergency surgery complicated by pneumonia.  I spent October staring out the window, shell-shocked.

2009:  We did go apple picking but then I got pregnant with Walter and spent the rest of the season feeling crummy.

2008:  I was pregnant and lost the baby, so that season was a bust.

2007:  I was pregnant (do you see a theme?) and spent all fall in bed with morning sickness.  We didn't get out much.

2006:  I was counting this as a good year but now that I think about it, at the time we called it an annus horribilus, so forget this year, too.

That means that not since 2005 have we had a nice fun autumn.  No wonder I'm excited!

Song Links

My dear friend, L., is not familiar with Alan Jackson's "Where Were You When The World Stopped Turning".  Oh honey... it is such a beautiful song.  Please, please listen to it because I know you will fall in love with it.  This video is very family safe.  It's just him on a stage singing...

I also really like Darryl Worely's "Have You Forgotten?".  This video is good... mostly family friendly.  There are images of the towers on fire and falling but no graphic footage.  There may be a photo of the late Fr. Mychal Judge being carried to church.

And then just for the rah, rah - proud to be an American effect, I love Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue".  The video is totally child safe but the song is... adult themed?  It's great, though!

Answering Alan Jackson

Within just a few weeks of September 11, 2001, Alan Jackson wrote a song that managed to capture perfectly the confusing swirl of emotions that Americans were feeling.  It was remarkable because these thoughts and emotions felt so personal yet apparently they were universal.  I have always nodded my answers to his questions but today... on the 10th anniversary... I'm going to write them down for posterity's sake and share them with my children.

Where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?  Upstairs in my bedroom folding laundry at our house in Belleville.  Three of our children (ages 6, 4, almost 2) were downstairs playing.  Baby Joseph (8 months) was with me.  My dad called to ask if I was watching television.

Were you in the yard with your wife and children Or working on some stage in L.A.?

Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke

Risin' against that blue sky?  Yes.  Once the second plane hit and I realized this was no accident, I had to clutch the bedpost for support.

Did you shout out in anger, in fear for your neighbor
 Or did you just sit down and cry?  Once the first tower fell and I realized that I had just watched scores of firemen die, the bedpost quit working and I sank to the ground sobbing.

Did you weep for the children who lost their dear loved ones
 And pray for the ones who don't know?  Yes, so many tears and so many prayers that day... urgent, real time prayers.

Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
 And sob for the ones left below?  Yes.

Did you burst out in pride for the red, white and blue  Absolutely, but that was not new to me.

And the heroes who died just doin' what they do?  Those were the hardest losses to me.  My father is a retired police officer and his father was a fireman.  Plus, there was something about seeing all of those first responders rushing into those towers as everybody else was rushing out.  Eternal rest grant them, O Lord.

Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer  Still do.

And look at yourself and what really matters?  Still do.

I'm just a singer of simple songs  Yeah, me, too.

I'm not a real political man
 I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell
 you the difference in Iraq and Iran  Same here.

But I know Jesus and I talk to God  Same here.

And I remember this from when I was young
 Faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us
 And the greatest is love  Amen, Alan Jackson.  Amen.

Where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?
 Were you teaching a class full of innocent children  I was raising a house full of innocent children.

Or driving down some cold interstate?
 Did you feel guilty 'cause you're a survivor   Yes and I wasn't even at risk that day.

In a crowded room did you feel alone?  Yes.

Did you call up your mother and tell her you loved her?  I called because she was in the hospital at the time.

Did you dust off that Bible at home?  Sure did.

Did you open your eyes, hope it never happened  Yes.

Close your eyes and not go to sleep?  Often.

Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages  Yes!  I noticed things like weeds along the side of the road and how they had such pretty flowers.  Then I felt sorry for God that He would bless us with flowering weeds and yet humanity could be guilty of such depravity.

Or speak to some stranger on the street?  Yes.  You could say to someone at the store, "Isn't it awful?" and they would know exactly what you were talking about.  And they wouldn't think you were weird for saying it.

Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow  For the first time, I lost my certainty that the continental U.S. was impervious to attack.  I know that is not a luxury that citizens of other nations have ever felt but it had been our reality.  Now, without warning, that innocence was shattered.  It was very frightening.

Or go out and buy you a gun?  I'm all in favor of gun ownership, but that didn't seem necessary for me, personally.

Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watchin'
 And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns?  Yes, violence no longer seemed entertaining but more like rubbing salt in a wound.

Did you go to a church and hold hands with some strangers  Yes, Mass that night at Christ the King parish in Ann Arbor.

Did you stand in line and give your own blood?  I tried to but the response was overwhelming for the Red Cross and they were asking people to call and schedule appointments well into the future.

Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
 Thank God you had somebody to love?  Absolutely.

I'm just a singer of simple songs

I'm not a real political man
 I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell
 you the difference in Iraq and Iran

But I know Jesus and I talk to God
 And I remember this from when I was young
 Faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us
 And the greatest is love.

School Daze

I'm kind of longing for the days in which my children were young enough that homeschooling meant getting out the Play-Dough. 

Michael, our 16 year old, basically skipped high school and went straight to community college.  As of this semester, he's doing that full-time.  If that sounds like bragging, trust me when I say that I'm actually pointing out how lazy I am.  Two years ago it was time for him to do high school and I said, "Uhhh... I dunno... How about he take some classes at the community college?".  Granted, they had to make an exception to admit him on account of his young age and amazing test scores and now I'm bragging...

But Caroline, our very bright but more normal daughter, is on a different path and that means that I actually have to do something about high school for her.  She is 14 and I can't put it off any longer.  So after some frantic searching and praying I am happy to have enrolled her in Kolbe Academy.  I love their Classical approach and how flexible they are in regards to curricula.  This year is the Greek Year and she will be reading Plato, Herodotus, Homer, Sophocles and all those other high-falutin' Greeks.

It's going to be great.  I can tell it will be.  Really.  But it is so. much. work.  And we are so. not. used. to. that.

Last year was what I call a "lost year".  Baby Walter was born at the beginning of the school year and then spent the first month in the hospital.  Then I got sick.  Then he got diagnosed with a serious illness.  Then it took me a while to recuperate from post-partum depression.  Pete kept up with the children's math but that's about all we accomplished. 

Sometimes I have to work not to be the superstitious type (what with that being a mortal sin and all) and overcome my fear that if I say something good I might "jinx" it.  But I have a good feeling about this upcoming year.  It's the first time in four years that I'm not pregnant, have a new baby, faced with someone's catastrophic illness (I will not knock on wood) or under my own personal rain cloud.

I'm going to go now and read Herodotus along with Caroline.  Before yesterday I didn't even know how to pronounce Herodotus.  (Let's be honest, before yesterday I had not even heard of Herodotus.)  It's herAHduhtus. 



My New BFF



Post-Party Euphoria

Yesterday was our Birthday Carnival extravaganza and I'll write more once I come down off of the circus peanut sugar high and have some photos to post.  At first this morning I was feeling a bit wistful.  I had worked on the party every day for the past five weeks and now there was nothing to do.  But the memories are so wonderful!  We were surrounded by our incredible family and friends who we love very much.

I got this sign from Etsy to display at the party.  Seeing it on my desk this morning changed my mood from wistful to deeply grateful...

Five More Days...

Ho-lee-cow.  What's a girl gotta do to get a cake around here?  I'm... just... flabbergasted.  This is what I'd like: 

Nothing too fancy.  Our main cakes are going to be two full sheet cakes.  We're getting them from Meijers, of all places and no one has given me any attitude.  (Plus their cakes are really yummy!)  But when I saw this Big Top cake on Oriental Trading Company, I thought it would be a cute addition.  I also figured that a bakery could easily duplicate it.  It's just a basic layer cake with a top, right?  I'll supply the lollipops.

So this morning I called the bakery in the nearby town of Shawnee and asked if there was time for me to order a cake for this Saturday.  "Sure, fine, what kind of cake would you like?".  I began to explain that I would like a small cake shaped like a circus tent and that I had a photo that I could show the baker at his earliest convenience and that it's not as elaborate as it sounds but I didn't get any further than "circus tent" when the lady interrupted me with "Ma'am, they can't do that.".

Now, when you read those words you've got to hear them in your head in the most dismissive tone possible.

"Ma'am, they can't do that.".

Not, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but with such short notice our bakers can only do sheet cakes."

Not, "I'm sorry, ma'am, there's plenty of time for us to make you a cake but our bakers are not capable of making anything other than sheet cakes."

I have no idea what she meant because I was too stunned to process anything.  I just sat at my desk and stared at the photo of this simple two layer cake and wondered how this lady knew the bakers could not make it, even though they were not being given the chance to decide that for themselves.  After all, she interrupted me before I could offer to bring down the photo.

So I just paused for a long moment and said, "They can't?".

And she said, "No."

I almost laughed at how surreal this conversation was.  Seriously?  She was not going to clarify?

Then I said, "Ohhhkaayy, thank you." and we hung up.

Alrighty then.  Scratch that bakery off of my list forever.  I've got one more possibility.  I thought it was way out of my reach.  Cake Nouveau is in Ann Arbor.  They usually do elaborate cakes along the lines of this:

That is so beyond darling that I could just die from cuteness!  Just that lower level is the most adorable thing I've ever seen in cake form.  As you can imagine, that sort of artistry is worth top dollar.  But now they are offering Dessert Cakes along these lines (and for less dollars):

That's not too much different in shape than the Big Top cake, right?  Just add a top and different icing colors and there ya go!  I'm going to go out tomorrow and see if I can have any luck.  I think I'll bring the birthday boy along and hope that his charm influences the nice ladies at Cake Nouveau.

A Sticky Wicket

Sometimes certain delicate situations arise when you live in a very small town.  It's not that the situations are unique to small town living, it's that you don't have the benefit of an anonymous solution.  In fact, I don't even want to say too much here... on a blog that few people read... in the off chance that it might offend the offenders.

But here's the thing...  If the owner of a service-oriented shop in a small town provides less than stellar service, what is a resident to do?  The economy in Michigan stinks.  The economy in small-town Michigan is even more dismal.  Every few months another shop downtown closes.  And our "downtown" is only one block long to begin with!  So if the one bakery or the one widget shop treats you rudely, you do not have the option of taking your business to another local bakery or widget shop.  I'd like to keep our money right here in Mayberry but that isn't always possible.

I realized this morning that several elements of baby's party were coming from the neighboring town of... uh... Shawnee.  It's one thing when it's circus peanuts from the CVS in Shawnee.  Mayberry doesn't have a CVS.  I had to hit up CVSs in the surrounding towns of Chester, Shawnee, Salty, Ann Arbor and Adrienne to get enough circus peanuts.  (But they didn't cost me anything, thanks to ExtraCare Bucks!)

It's a different ball of wax when what I need is available right here in Mayberry but I just don't want to get it here.  Folks at the party might ask, "Nice widget.  Did you get it at the widget shop here in town?".  None of my friends are the gossipy type.  Word doesn't travel because anyone sends it on its way deliberately... but it does travel.

On the other hand, I think this lack of anonymity is a good thing.  It forces us to be careful in our actions and in our words.  We can't just mouth off thoughtlessly since we have to live with these people.  Possibly for decades.  So we need to find a way to get along.  These situations are a good exercise in tact and diplomacy.  I'm still working on it.  I was not pleased with the widget shop owner's customer "service".  She needs to learn how to speak with customers.  I'm just sorry that I have to leave town to get our party elements.

I Mean Well...

My sweet, sixth, last little baby, known here by his middle name of Walter, turns one at the end of this month.  His birth was so amazing.  Pete, the midwives, my step-mother and I were all laughing while the baby was being born.  And then he was out and the mood went from joy to terror... he wasn't breathing.  He wasn't moving.  He was gray and floppy.  And the midwife couldn't fix him.

A call was made and a team of doctors came running in.  Thank you, Jesus, they were able to resuscitate him, although we took no chances and baptized him right there on my bed.  He recuperated beautifully and two days later we went home.  Three days after that he spiked a fever and we raced back to the hospital.  This time we stayed for three weeks.  Turns out our little pup has some serious kidney issues (completely unrelated to his near death/birth experience).

All of this is to say... We're throwing one heck of a first birthday party.  I know that Baby won't remember any of it.  He won't even be aware of most of it while it's happening.  But every detail that I'm putting together is a labor of love.  Sometimes I think actual labor would be easier.

Argh!  I'm so bad at this stuff!  I have no creativity or skills.  So I cheat by copying other people's ideas.  One blog that I stumbled upon was this one:  http://jackandizzy.blogspot.com/2010/05/jacks-party-in-park-part-1-dessert.html  This photo blew me away:

Everything matches!  She did all that by hand and it all matches!  The lunches are in individual boxes.  The water bottles have personalized labels.  Apparently that's a thing people are doing.  I'm totally "encorporating" that idea.  (Sounds nicer than stealing, doesn't it?)

I got another idea for decorating from Martha Stewart's blog which led me to this blog:  http://wethreepilgrims.blogspot.com/2010/06/trevor-and-i-were-so-thrilled-to-have.html  Just look at these dreamy paper pom-poms (another idea I am encorporating!):

I have to be honest, my initial reaction was to hate these women.  Here are these beautiful women with their one or two beautiful children and their beautiful homes with their beautiful party decorations crafted by hand.  I even said outloud, "Wow, their friends must hate them.".  Perfection like that makes me feel so inadequate.

I'm trying to put together a carnival for baby's birthday.  It's only 12 families but they're all Catholic, so it's 100 people.  I've been working on it for nearly a month but I feel like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the hill over and over.  No matter how much I do, I'm not getting anywhere.  Looking around at my parlor (and my bedroom and my kitchen) I see carnival supplies everywhere.  Why won't it all come together like it does for these perfect women??

Then I read more of their blogs.  Oh drats, I couldn't hate them.  They're not trying to present themselves as Practically Perfect in Every Way.  They actually sound quite nice and... normal.  In fact, as I struggle with my invitations not being centered perfectly and my pom-poms not having the ends cut perfectly and the gift tags not being hand written perfectly I want to thank Paige, the second blogger I mentioned.  She wrote the following and it has helped me immensely... I can't even tell you how much.  I hope she doesn't mind me quoting her here.  I'll go ask her.

I think that as fallen people, our creativity has several functions. It points others to behold the One who is the author of beauty. My hope is that when people take in art, they are pointed to the One who created human beings with the capacity to create like he does. I love that I can be like my Creator when I am creating. Yet this creating is done out of weakness. Everything I make bears markers that reflect my finiteness, my brokenness. Out of my weakness, I create imperfect things that are feeble attempts to talk about Beauty with another language. Even in this weakness, Christ is magnified. These things that I create are not in themselves eternal. They do not last. They can only capture tiny reflections of the Light. Christ himself is the only one who can satisfy our longing for beauty.

Wow.  I never thought of it like that.  How true and how beautiful.

Calling Andy Griffith!

Even in a small town, crime happens.  It's important that we don't let down our guards too much. After a lifetime of diligently locking my car doors everywhere I went, I stopped doing so in Mayberry.  It just felt like a vote of no-confidence in my beloved quiet little village.  Against my instincts well formed by my policeman father, I deliberately do not lock my car doors when I shop downtown.

But then I saw the police blotter in this week's issue of the Mayberry Gazette:  Loose Change Stolen From Unlocked Vehicles.

Loose change??  As in... quarters and dimes?  I'm not sure which is more perplexing... that someone stole loose change or that it made the newspaper?  I know that if it had been my unlocked car that had been rifled through, I'd feel violated regardless of what was taken.  It happened to us many years ago.  But I just can't help finding it almost funny that it wasn't CDs, cell phones, sunglasses or shot guns that were stolen but loose change.  I bet the criminal used it to buy some Big League Chew and a Mountain Dew afterwards.

Also in the police blotter... the report of a lost goat.  "The goat stands two feet tall and responds to the name Millie.".   

The police reports sure are different here than in Detroit.

Thanks, Brad

Last night I was out by myself so I had the radio on. I heard a song by Brad Paisley that I've always liked... "Letter to Me"... in which he sings about what he would tell his 17 year old self. That got me to thinking. If I could go back in time, what would I tell myself at seventeen?

What a depressing exercise. It was full of Don't do this... Avoid that... and on and on. I thought of Frank Sinatra and his "Regrets? I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention."

Seriously? I've got too many to list!  Just about the only things I wouldn't do differently are the Big Three: What Faith to Convert to, Who to Marry and Having These Children.

But here's a slightly less she-needs-therapy version...

Dear 17 Year Old Jennifer (8/3/1987),


Shut up, yes you are thin enough. One day you'll look at that skirt and wonder how you ever got in it. But you might want to lower your hemline a couple of inches. Your skirts are too short. You're not going to believe this, but bell bottom jeans are going to come back into style, only this time they're going to call them "boot cut". Honest to goodness, you'll actually buy a pair.


Look around you. There are some really wonderful classmates that you should be getting to know better. Conversely, one of your bosom buddies won't even give you the time of day at your ten year reunion. Some folks get too big for their britches (even the boot cut kind) but others you don't expect will become your Facebook friends. Don't ask me to explain Facebook. Oh, but you know that portable telephone idea you had? It gets invented!


Your suspicions are right... this relationship with your high school sweetheart isn't going anywhere. It's time to let it go and focus on having a fun senior year without that stress hanging over you. In fact, forget about boys for the next few years. Take your college studies much more seriously. Nurture your female friendships, even if you have to drive around the country to visit them. In twenty years when you need someone to sit with your sick baby overnight, it will be your girlfriends who step in to help.


Right now go around to all of your classmates to whom you've ever been less than kind.  This could take a while since you've been in the same district since kindergarten.  Sincerely ask for their forgiveness.  Forgive those who were ever unkind to you.  I know there were plenty but consider how unhappy their homelives seemed.  I'll grant you one exception... your 6th grade teacher.  The day you graduate from high school go find him and tell him what a mean m.f. you think he is.  You'll regret it if you don't.


I guess there will be one guy you'll need to date because it's through him that you'll meet Pete.  When you do meet Pete it'll make things a lot easier on everyone if you'd recognize right away that this is the man you're going to marry.  But do not... I repeat, do NOT agree to move out of state with him.  Insist that you stay in Cincinnati. 


You can quit eating carrots out of a desire to preserve your perfect eyesight.  At the age of 40 you'll get bifocals.  They're kind of cute, though. 



When you spend time with your grandparents, go home and write down everything they said.  Look them in the eye and really see them.  Cherish every moment you have with them because the years before you're reunited will feel very long without them.


Don't sweat the small stuff and it's all small stuff.  (Someone else will make that up.)  I know it all seems so important now but it just isn't.  In 25 years you'll be standing before a woman who just lost her teenage son and trying to find something... anything... to say that is of any value.  Then you will learn how insignificant your worries are, bifocals and all.


Just a few more things... invest in a company called Microsoft, keep practising your Spanish, wake up early on September 11th, 2001 to pray most earnestly and on that June day in 2008 when 13 year old Michael comes to you complaining of a tummy ache, do not give him Tylenol for his "stomach flu".  Get him a CT scan STAT!


Don't worry, hon.  Despite lots of regrets (and a much cleaner life than Sinatra's!), you're going to have a pretty awesome life.


XOXO,
Yourself at 41

Baby's First Shoes

When worlds collide... my love of things vintage, my love of great deals and my love of my cutie baby.  Check out these darling shoes that I just got for Walter!!  They are normally $30, which I would not have spent for a non-walker, but I got them on sale for $12.

Click on the photo really to see those old-timey bicycles.  Aren't they so much cuter than the latest Disney character being hawked?  These are Robeez Mini Shoez Tiny Trikes.  I sure as heck didn't name them.  What is with the z in Shoez?  Is it still pronounced like shoes?  Is it more like the Suez canal? 

Anyway, stupid spelling aside, they are adorable.  They'll go nicely with the vintage carnival theme I'm putting together for baby's first birthday next month.

Motherhood in Any Size Town

Whenever I have a new baby I'm reminded that one of the ways that "they" torture prisoners is by interrupting their sleep throughout the night.  I bet I know another method they use.

Give your subject a task to complete in a certain amount of time.  It needn't be complicated.  Something like, Go through this week's grocery store circular and plan meals for a family of eight.  Match up sale prices and coupons and do not exceed $100.  You have 30 minutes.  Begin.

At random intervals, send in a Distraction to interrupt your subject.  These can increase in urgency and decibel level, depending on how long it takes your subject to break.

You may encounter a subject who has developed a reputation for being difficult to shake.  People who meet her may comment on how calm she appears.  This subject may be able to ignore Distractions going on around her and forge onward with the task at hand.  She has been tortured for many years now and has become immune to rudimentary techniques.

In that case, it is time to move on to Multiple Tasks.  Perhaps combine Attending to Her Morning Regimen along with Getting Baby Ready for His Doctor's Appointment and Making Two Important Phone Calls.  If it appears that she is accomplishing these tasks it will be time to...

Send in Multiple Distractions

The most effective Distractions are those that hang on to her skirt and make a piercing shriek, EEEyahEEEyahEEEyah over and over.  If she ignores the shrieks, have the Distraction bite her leg.  It will be next to impossible for even an experienced subject to apply mascara while being bitten.  It is a virtual certainty that being unable to complete a task because of constant interruptions will eventually break even the most hardened of subjects.

Nooooo!

But fear not, comrade.  If that doesn't work, turn on Dora the Explorer. 





Summer Wedding

Not Actual Gazebo

To the Bride and Groom who just got married in the gazebo in the park in front of our house,

I've enjoyed watching your wedding.  You can't see the nosy neighbor who loves weddings... I'm sure of that because I've checked.  The glare off of the windows makes it impossible to see in.  There have been several lovely weddings in the gazebo since we moved here.  You are welcome that we put off mowing our lawn in your honor.

All of my life, whenever I've seen a bride start down the aisle... even if I don't know her... my heart soars and my eyes well up with tears.  You represent so much promise.  So much hope.  Every good thing lies before you.  I wish you both a long lifetime full of joy and determined commitment.  Not "happiness", though that's nice.  But as you step out into the unknowable future together I can be certain of one thing.  The hard times will come.  They always do.  Those couples who celebrate their 50th anniversary didn't get there because they were lucky.  They got there because they knew something that our world has forgotten... no matter how bleak things may seem, if you hang in there, it can get better.

But you might already know that.  Towards the end of your wedding you did something that I didn't understand.  You each took a hammer and pounded nails into something.  I've never seen that before, so I did a Google search.  I'm not sure if this is what you did, but I think it's a beautiful idea:

A Modern Twist on the Unity Candle Ceremony

"Bring a solid wooden box and place a bottle of wine and two glasses inside. The bride and groom are asked to write letters to one another prior to the ceremony. When the unity time comes they will place these letters inside the wooden box. The bride and groom or the entire wedding party are given a nail and hammer and they are asked to seal the box shut.

The officiant explains to the guests that should the couple fall into hard times and before they make a rash decision, they are to open the box, drink the wine and read their letters to each other.

If the couple never has any issues (VillageJen - Ha! ) they can open it on a special anniversary and read the letters then."

Congratulations to you both.  The bride was absolutely beautiful today. 

Friends and Neighbors

One of the lovely things about living in a small town is the frequent opportunity to make new friends.  Here is the distinguished gentleman we met last night:

As I sat in my parlor I could see this fellow meandering down the sidewalk of Main Street.  He looked perfectly content to be out for a summer evening's stroll but I looked and looked and didn't see anyone with him.  My heart sank.  I couldn't ignore a loose dog.  St. Francis would be disappointed.

Michael ran to get our dog's leash and Grace called the pup to her.  Fortunately he was very docile and mostly cooperative.  Caroline helped me to get a bowl and some water, which this guy drank and drank and drank.  He must have been out on some adventure!

Then we all stood there, wondering what to do next.

Once again, we were grateful to be living in a small town.  I suggested that the children walk him around the village and ask everyone they encountered if this dog looked familiar to them.  Some people said no, but some people gave suggestions as to where he might live.  Our neighbor came over and said that he might know the owners, so he hopped into his van and drove to their house to ask them.

Meanwhile I made some phone calls, trying to find him a place to spend the night.  It was after 8:00pm, extremely humid and this dear dog was very old, stiff in the joints and blind in one eye.  He needed a cool, cushy place to sleep.  I tried the local veterinarian, surrounding veterinarians, distant veterinarians, animal hospitals and labrador rescue groups.  I just needed somebody local to take him inside overnight and then in the morning we'd resume the search for his family.  We sure would have but we didn't know how our dog would react.  (Although, come on, they're both labs, they'd probably just circle each other to death.)

All of my calls were fruitless.  The children returned home with the dog in tow.  There were still some streets left to try but I couldn't have this tired ol' guy go out anymore.  As soon as Pete had seen me with a new dog he had said, "We can't keep him!" but it looked like we were about to.  Just then a minivan turned onto our street.  I said a silent prayer, "Please, oh, please be the owners!"... and yay, they were.  Thank you, St. Francis. 

We Love This Town, But...

Every now and then Pete and I will discuss one of the drawbacks that come with small town living.  There aren't many and we feel that the benefits far outweigh them.  But they're there and lately one of them has been getting on my nerves.  Heck, it's been getting on the nerves of suburban folk and city dwellers, too.

It's these dagnabbit gasoline prices!  I'm not interested in hearing why they exist or what is or isn't being done about it.  It's one of those things that is outside the control of Michigan housewives.  But it is taking a serious bite into our budget. 

When we moved from our first suburb to our second suburb Pete's job was a 20 minute drive away.  And then glory hallelujah, his company built their shiny new world headquarters not three miles from our house!  Had he been a Democrat, Pete would have ridden a bike to work. 

(Joshing!  I love my Democrat friends and family!)

Our family thought we were nuts to move 40 miles away from such a sweet situation.  We did, too.  Who does that?  We have not regretted it for one tiny moment but when Pete is at the pump for the second time that week he's thinking, "Well, here's $50 we won't be saving for retirement... or using towards sprucing up our landscaping... or spending on local pub food."

As an aside... that family that thought we were nuts?  They moved up here and now work from home 250 miles away from the job.  They love small town living, too!

Home Sweet Home

This is our beautiful small town Catholic church, right in the heart of Mayberry.  It is where we can be found every Sunday morning, unless we are feeling radical and go on Saturday evening.  2012 will mark the 100th anniversary of this sacred house of God.  It is directly across the street from our house.  If the doors are open we can almost see the tabernacle.

It is such a blessing to live this close to our church.  I'm absolutely certain that the Lord orchestrated our move into this particular house for that particular reason.  He knew that if I were to remain in a state of grace, I'd need all the help I could get!

We've only lived here for five years but I can't count the number of times I've gone to that beautiful building to worship, plead, celebrate, mourn and thank.  Sometimes I've gone over too late in the day and the doors have been locked so I just sat down on the steps and prayed.  I figured that if our church was bigger and I was in the back pew the graces from the Real Presence in the tabernacle would still reach me, so the steps were the equivalent to the back pew of a cathedral.

(Local friends, I took this picture off of our church's website.  If it's yours and you want me to take it down, I'd be happy to get off my tuckus and walk across the street to take a photo, myself.  Just let me know.)

Night on the Town

When you live in a small town, your options for a romantic evening are somewhat limited.  Okay, they are extremely limited.  Pete and I ask each other, "Do we want pizza, pizza, pizza, pub food or pub food?".  Tonight we are leaving our children to babysit amongst themselves and we are going out for really good pub food.

Then... and here's where it gets exciting... we're gonna cruise down the country roads, heading for the big city to spend a wild and crazy evening here:

Requiescat in Pace





I love cemeteries.  Usually.  They are such interesting and peaceful places.  The headstones tell us stories of history... about people who lived and were loved, who died after a lengthy life well lived or far, far too soon.  I can spend hours in our local cemetery, reading the tombstones and praying for the dead and their mourners.  Usually I pull into the entrance with a detached somberness.  Today I burst into tears.

I pulled myself together and took some photos of old tombstones and statues.  I didn't cry the rest of my time there.  But when I went to edit the photos just now... more tears.  They come without warning several times a day.  I didn't even know Anthony that well.  I so wish I had.  From what I hear, he was a truly remarkable boy.

It's not that I cry because I'm thinking specifically about Anthony's parents at that moment.  It's as if my grief on their behalf has seeped into my soul and is always present.  Dear God in Heaven, if I feel this much pain, what must Anthony's extended family and friends be feeling??

I had Caroline, Harold and Walter with me and we drove around just taking it all in.  Our town's cemetery is actually two cemeteries in one... the Catholic side and the non-Catholic side.  To be honest, the non-Catholic side is prettier because it is older and has more trees.  Mayberry was not settled by Catholics but by British folks (who I realize can be Catholic, but in this case weren't), so the main cemetery was originally designed for them.  The early Mayberry Catholics were buried in two other now-closed cemeteries on the outskirts of town.

What I most love about our cemetery (both the Catholic and non-Catholic sides) is that you are permitted to have any sort of headstone.  I can not stand cemeteries that require small, flat markers.  Sure, it might make it easier on the groundskeeper but if ever there's a place that is worthy of a weedwacker, it's a cemetery.  Check out this awesome grave marker (click on any photo to see it full-size):

Isn't that cool?  Whenever my children and I visit a cemetery I point out things that I like or don't like about grave sites.  They're going to know just what to do when I die.  Plant crocuses on top because they bloom and go before the groundskeeper begins mowing for the season.  No stuffed animals because they get mushy after just one rain.  Yes to a statue of an angel or the Blessed Virgin Mary.  No photo of me because they fade to a strange yellow.  I love the idea of incorporating a bench like this, so that my descendents can sit and pray for my soul:

I was charmed by the inexplicable beer bottle at the foot of the tombstone.  I'm also intrigued by the Viva Las Vegas inscription.  May God have mercy on the soul on this Vietnam veteran.  I'm grateful for his service.

To end this post on a happier note, here is a photo that I wasn't even going to take but Harold kept saying, "Take a picture of this!  Take a picture of this!".  So here is a picture of one of the many pinecones he collected:

I Did it Again

I had to drive up to the town of Chester to visit the foot doctor so I popped into CVS.  I had $5 in ExtraBucks that were burning a hole in my bee-U-tiful binder.  They had eight-packs of Aquapods for $2.50 each.  Grand total?  Ta da... $5.00!

I didn't even have to open my purse.  It was as if I said to the cashier, "I'm just gonna take these here waters and be on my way, k?  Thanx."  I even managed to get out of there without buying young Harold a lollipop this time.

However, I did not manage to get out of the foot doctor's without paying the second $200 installment on my granny mama orthotic inserts.  I may still be nursing an infant but my bunion's acting up and my vision is going.  ~Sigh~  Aging.

Funny Money

I just saved 75% at CVS.  I know that's correct because I asked Pete to check my math.  I bought about $90 worth of goods and only spent about $20 OOP (out of pocket).  That is such a fun way to shop!  Here's how I did it.  I put all of my items in my cart but paid for them in two separate transactions.  That was key to keeping my out of pocket expenses as low as possible.

First of all, I arrived at the CVS with $5 in ExtraBucks from last week's trip.  ExtraBucks (aka Extra Care Bucks) are $$ back that CVS gives on some items.  Their ad will tell you which items give EBs.  For instance, last week I bought an Oral-B Pulsar Toothbrush and received $3 EB and I bought some bottled water and received $2 EB.  These print out on the bottom of your receipt.  You cut them off and use them just like cash money on your next transaction.

I also made good use of manufacturer's coupons, including five that I bought on eBay.  Excuse me, five coupons that were free after I paid the eBay lady for her time to locate and clip the coupons.  The selling of coupons themselves is illegal.

This was my first transaction  (Prices shown are CVS's usual retail price):

• Two boxes of Raisin Bran.  On sale for $2.50 each.  Coupon for $1.00 off of two.  OOP=$4.00.  Earned $1 EB.
• Two Garnier shampoos, One Garnier conditioner.  On sale for 3/$10.00.  Used three coupons for $1.00 off of one.  OOP=$7.  Earned $10 credit towards Buy $15 of Garnier, Get $5 in EB.
• One Garnier cleanser.  On sale for $5.  Used $1.00 manufacturer's coupon AND a $1.00 CVS coupon.  OOP=$3.  Earned the final $5 credit towards the Buy $15 of Garnier, Get $5 in EB, so I received $5 EB.
• Five Lumene eye creams.  $4.20 each.  Used five $4 off of one coupons.  OOP=$1.00.  Earned $20 towards the Buy $20 worth of Lumene, Get $5 EB, so I received $5 EB.
• One Balance Bar.  $1.70 each.  OOP=$1.70.  Earned $1.70 in EB.
• One Razor.  On sale for $6.99.  Coupon for $3 off.  OOP=$4.  Earned $3 EB.

If you add up the red OOP costs, you'll see that my receipt total was $20.70.  I handed over my Extra Care Bucks from last week that were worth $5.00.  So the total that went on my Visa was $15.70.  I also received $15.70 in ExtraBucks to use towards my next transaction.

Here comes transaction #2.  None of these items earned EBs but I did use some manufacturer's coupons:

• Maxwell House coffee.  $2.88 each.  OOP=$2.88.
• Two Soft Scrub Total Cleanser.  On sale for $2.99 each.  Used coupon for Buy One, Get One Free.  OOP=$2.99.
• Two Soft Scrub with Bleach.  On sale for $2.99 each.  Used coupon for Buy One, Get One Free.  OOP=$2.99.
• Two Lysol Wipes.  On sale for 2 for $5.00.  Used one $1.00 off of two coupon.  OOP=$4.00.
• Always Infinity.  On sale for $6.99.  Used $1.00 off coupon.  OOP=$5.99.
• Skintimate Shaving Cream.  On sale for $1.99.  Used .55cent coupon.  OOP=$1.44.

This is where the magic happens.  My out of pocket expense was about $20.  (I haven't shown the cost of taxes.  Or Harold's lollipop I bought because he was such a good shopper.)  I handed over the $15.70 in ExtraBucks coupons I had from my previous transaction.  So I only put about $4 on my credit card.

All told I spent a little over $20 for more than $90 worth of goods.  If you look at the photos you'll see that the five eye creams add up to $20.  So essentially I got everything else for FREE!  It's all about CVS, baby.  Those ExtraBucks combined with coupons are awesome-sauce!