parts of speech

The elder lad has been waylaid by a nasty summer cold, running a high fever for several days and struggling with a sore throat as well as head and nasal congestion.  On Saturday we worked our way through a few pages from our book of Junior Mad Libs (with Mama-imposed limits on potty word usage) during a break from the "glowing screen".  With an understanding of the basic parts of speech, he was able to choose words from the list of suggested ones easily to fill in the blanks, and he took great care in making his selections.  As fun as it was working through the short "libs," the best part was hearing him laugh at the resulting silly story.

Later that evening I took him to urgent care to be tested for Strep throat.  That came back negative.  The doctor said it was likely a summer cold, albeit a miserable one, and let him know that popsicles* counted as "drink" in an effort to push the fluids.

Once we finally got home from urgent care and got the lad tucked into bed, I laid next to him for a few minutes as he was settling in.  I told him that I loved him more today than I did yesterday, and that I would love him more tomorrow.  This is not the first time I had said such a thing to him (or his siblings or their father). 

"How can you love me more tomorrow than you do today?" he wondered aloud, if a little sleepily. 

"Because love grows," I told him.  "It doesn't keep to itself.  It reaches out and keeps going.  Love is a verb.  It means working for the good of the other person as well as the feelings we have for that person.  I want to be the best mother I can be for you, to do all I can to help you be the person God calls you to be.  That's loving you."

That might been a heady explanation for a sleepy, sniffly lad seeking some assurance of his mother's love and presence throughout the long night ahead when he struggled to sleep, but it laid the groundwork for future discussions about how we are called to place ourselves in the service of others. 

We'll save those discourses for when he's feeling better...

*as for the popsicles, we've (and by "we" I mean my beloved in collaboration with other non-sniffly bambini) been freezing fruit juice in popsicle molds I found in the dollar section at Target a few years ago, sometimes fancying it up a bit by layering one flavor of juice on top of another.   Nifty. 

good news • bad news • good eats

This can't be good:

our washing machine presently

...especially when we're going on a week with a nasty virus afflicting most of us (the elder lad and I are the holdouts).  One might expect that a few days with an offline washer might mean I'd catch up a little, but alas this is not the case.

Downer as that may be, I am happy to report that the elder lad has been branching out a bit from his standard fare, eating more fresh fruit and even some vegetables.  He says broccoli is his favorite, but he and his sister (the three-year-old elder lass) made short work of some of our backyard garden-fresh peas.

Lass could use a manicure.

We had planned to use those peas in a stir-fry for dinner, but our little field hands took a hefty "fee" for their picking work.  That's alright. 

Speaking of stir-frying, that's what I'm writing about today at Foodie Proclivities.  Check it out here.  Have I ever mentioned that my beloved and I lived in the same high-rise residence hall for a semester but never once met?

He lived in the guys' tower and I lived in the girls' tower, but the two towers shared a cafeteria with a wok station (about which I reminisce further in the post at Foodie Proclivities; please do click over).

I can't help but wonder how many times we were in that cafeteria -- maybe even wok-ing -- at the same time.  The Lord sure does have a sense of humor.  He knew it wasn't yet time for us to meet.  I had to work on my stir-frying skills...

scenes from spring break

 Building a barn for Pet and Patty (yes: of the Little House books we've been reading)... 

note the distressed finish of our coffee table.  People pay good money for such a custom patina.   

We didn't have to.

This is Jessie.  My great Aunt Sally (Papa Jack's sister) made her for me when I was a wee lass.

My younger lass is smitten.

 Elementary electronics via Snap Circuits.  The lads were gleeful each time they launched that spinning red wheel off its axis. 
The band-aid is from an unrelated (and minor) injury.

 Safety first: no long hair in the Snap Circuit area by order of safety marshal younger lad. 

Did I mention several of us have had the stomach flu this week?  (We're on the mend.)  Or that it's been raining buckets?  (not that I'm not grateful for the much-needed rain; it might be the last we get for a while!)

stealthed

Strep throat was not on my radar screen as I watched the younger lad -- the picture of health yesterday -- wilt before my very eyes this morning, one moment a bit feverish but still impish as ever, the next shivering and slouched, asking for me to snuggle him.  Of course, had he mentioned that his throat hurt, I might have considered strep as the cause.  Instead, I was fretting about pneumonia, as he sat with chest heaving and blue fingernails.  All the same, a quick test at urgent care confirmed the true culprit, and now the lad is, God willing, on the road to recovery.

When the littles turn up ill, I turn to a couple of resources to help me assess and treat maladies at home -- and when to call the doctor.  The first is Smart Medicine For A Healthier Child by Janet Zand, Robert Rountree, and Rachel Walton.  It's a reference book of common childhood illnesses, conditions, and injuries that synthesizes conventional medical treatments with holistic, natural, and alternative routes.  The other is AskDrSears.com, the online home of Dr. Robert Sears and his family of medical practioners.  His The Baby Book is one of my go-to resources for the under-two among us, and much of the online content is drawn from this book and others he and his family collaborators have authored. 

Of course, I use these resources because I'm not a medical professional, but I don't rely on them to advise me instead of our pediatrician.  When my instinct tells me that something's *wrong* or that one of my children needs to be seen by their doctor, I try to honor that gut feeling (not to mention my ailing children) as best I can -- even if Ferris Bueller might deem me a "nervous mother".  

The younger lad is not the only one hot and bothered.  So is his sister who keeps telling me "new tooth" when I ask her where it hurts and why she is sniffly and fragile.  She woke up feverish Sunday morning.  In light of the lad's diagnosis today, I am seeing a domino effect forming.  Will the elder lad and the younger lass follow suit?  Time will soon tell, but now I'm on the lookout for causes other than the initially obvious -- no stealth strep next child...

far out

A sick day from school was no excuse for a day lolling around doing nothing (that came later in the week when Mama succumbed to the full force of The Sniffles).  On Monday the elder lad was coming off a fever he'd run over the weekend, so he stayed home from school.  He and his brother had been engrossed by the space-themed play set their aunt and uncle had given them for Christmas over the weekend, and the intergalactic fun continued on the sick day.  Thus was born the thematic approach to our unexpected stay home day.

We read Martian Rock by Carol Diggory Shields (illustrated by Scott Nash), in which a group of Martians set off in a space ship from their home planet to explore the galaxy looking for signs of life.  They refer to the planets as "orbs", and as they visit each one we learn a little something about the composition of that planet.  The last one they visit is Earth, where they land on the South Pole.  Thinking there is no life on this orb just as there hadn't been on any of the others, they are about to head home until they encounter a colony of penguins...

Since this is a multi-age classroom (ahem), we also read Helen Oxenbury's Tom and Pippo See the Moon, one of the gifts the lass received for her second birthday.  Tom asks Daddy all about the moon and considers going there himself in a rocket with Pippo (after a good night's sleep).  Considering our affinity for Tom and Pippo, and the insatiable interest children have in the potty and what transpires there (there's a drawing of Tom sitting on his gazing at the moon), this book is an instant winner here. 

To develop logic, critical thinking, and spatial-relational skills, we worked our new solar system puzzle. 

Add to this the space-themed songs from our Schoolhouse Rock playlist.  And for "glowing screen time" (I can't take credit for that term, but I love it), we watched an episode of the PBS show Word World about compound words entitled "Race to the Spaceship/Sandbox Surprise".

Not too shabby for a sick day...

not-so-fun Fridays

We've spent these past three Fridays (and a few other days too in this same time frame) in a doctor's office or urgent care setting -- not for anything especially urgent, though.  The six of us have all fallen prey to The Sniffles over the past ten days or so, with resulting ear infections for some.  Others of us have had brushes with other infections that required immediate attention so as to not develop into something more serious.  Though we are collectively improving, some of us are still rather like faucets (including Mama and the raven-haired lass).

So much sniffling and time spent in doctors' offices has worn Mama down, but considering the relatively minor ailments afflicting us, I am filled with humility and gratitude for our overall good health.  We're redoubling our hand-washing efforts and stocking up our apothecary shop with probiotics, vitamins, and natural remedies like cranberry juice in an effort to restore us to vitality and its accompanying vim and vigor (or something like that).

But for now, here's hoping to catch up on some sleep...

two cute

My sweet girl,

'Twas two years ago this morning 'round seven or so

when I first met you.

Every day you grow sweeter
(and more confident in your abilities in fending off wily brothers),
with endearing expressions such as "pwease, Mommy-O," and "thank you, Daddy-O"
and much kindness to all.

Just as quick to call dibs on a purple dump truck passing by
or wield a play power tool to fix your dollhouse
as you are to don a tutu (and insist upon leggings),
you relish bubble baths, raisins (and chocolate chips), books, helping in the kitchen, and all things pink and purple.

You and your siblings are under the weather with ear infections and much coughing and sniffling,
but that hasn't kept you from reveling in the (scaled back, but still pink) birthday festivities
so lovingly planned for you (with your input, of course).

Those enchanting eyes, that delightful giggle --
what a ray of sunshine you are to us.

May the peace of Christ be with you, my sweet girl, your whole life long.
How we love you so~

tutti fruity

Call it Kindergarten humor, musician mama style: a form of collective address I hadn't thought of until this evening when the lass (who will be two tomorrow) and her brother (the younger) started a round of antibiotics, thus joining their elder brother already on them (such drama is beyond the scope of this post).  The younger lad's elixir has a certain fruity aroma.

As in... tutti frutti.

Then it hit me -- the musical connection:
Tutti.

As in... "all y'all" (a regionalism that needs no further explanation).

Won't the lads love that?! I'm sure the elder lad will be happy to demonstrate pronouncing the full stop necessitated by the double consonant: "TOOT-ee."

Let's try it out:

"Tutti! To the Bambini Ride!"
"Tutti! Hands to yourselves!"
"Tutti! Bouncy balls *up* the stairs only!"

Talk about speaking their language...

not this year

Christmastime is here, and with it much merriment with family (and coffee filters).  Getting to the celebration was a challenge, as in the final days of Advent we were all fighting The Sniffles whilst trying to "get things done." 

Decking the halls for Christmas is one of my favorite things to do, but not with the full array.  Not this year. 

Many of the (breakable) Christmas decorations I wanted to put up at the end of Advent are still in the box  (which means less to put away later!).  Our Christmas tree went up on the Third Sunday of Advent, and I marveled to myself how it has evolved since the first year I had a Christmas tree of my own -- one waist-high number in my first apartment, trimmed in a monochromatic white and silver scheme, my massive Persian cat shedding on the velvet tree skirt underneath.  That tree has been replaced by one trimmed with ornaments that tell the story of our family life thus far (but only about three-fourths of the way up its nine-foot stature, with breakables at my eye level or higher for obvious reasons).  I like this one better.

There have several family gatherings over the course of this past week.  It's always wonderful to see everyone -- so much so that we have a difficult time extracting ourselves from the festivities in time to make it home for a reasonable bedtime.  After so much fun commotion, it's difficult for little ones to wind down, which makes us question why we even went out after contending with the late night and the resulting fussiness in the morning. Even while trying to stick to our routine, the inevitable deviation catches up with us eventually.  Someday, we'll be better able to partake of the later evening festivities, but not this year.

Awash in the many expressions of delight from our four bambini at the wonders of the Christmas celebration, we draw them close and are reminded once again of this brief but intense season of our family life.  Together with our extended family, our celebration of Christ's birth continues.   We might not be out and about as much as other folks, but that's alright.  Grateful for the gift of this time together, God willing, we will never forget this Christmas.  Not this year.

the eye of the storm

Kind of a tough day here:

The 21-month-old lass is running a low grade fever and has needed extra "Mommy-O" attention.  In the final minutes of dinner preparation, the younger lad took a header off the sofa during a jumping episode (still against house rules) and hit his jaw with a sickening whack on the corner of the coffee table.  He's OK, if a little puffy and sore.  All the emotional residue of a day filled with fussiness converged at the table, when the eldest and youngest bambini had reached their limits and let the stress they felt be known in their respective ways.

Had we not made it to school Mass this morning, I think the course of the day would've been much different.  The graces poured out upon me there sustained me as I tried to manage the rest of the day in a triage situation.

Since the lass had not been able to sleep during siesta time today, both because she fell asleep on the way home from school Mass rather than at siesta time and because she felt so crummy, she hit the hay early even as her three-month-old sister lamented some tummy trouble of her own.  With one lass asleep, I was able to snuggle the elder lad for bedtime prayers, whose snuggling requests are often fulfilled after his sisters have gone to bed.

Truly the grace of God infused this challenge-filled day from beginning to end.  He got us out the door and on the road to Mass at a time when I am often still trying to get myself together (not to mention everyone else).  He held me up as I held both lasses and corralled the younger lad during Mass.  And he kept my head in the game, so to speak, throughout the long day with no pause for resetting myself.  It is for this last gift I am most grateful (though I am for all of them).  It was the difference between me hitting a wall and me having the grace to go on, the peace that surpasses all understanding.

Yes, I know the Grace is there for the asking, even if I'm not at Mass when I ask for it.  Going to Mass and receiving the Eucharist opened the door, though, and helped order my thoughts and heart in such a way as to receive that Grace.

I have wanted to make weekly school Mass part of our regular routine but been daunted by the logistical considerations.  Experiencing the surge of spiritual nourishment from having gone (even if I didn't catch every word of the readings or lose myself in prayer because I was trying to keep the younger lad's truck-vrooming noises in check those last few minutes of Mass) helped confirm the desires my heart has continued to express to put forth every effort to make it to that weekly liturgy.

The elder lad asked if we'd come back to Mass again.  I told him we will.

And now I'll go finish my dinner...

books for when one is under the weather

Mercifully, no one at our house is ill at the moment.  If anyone were, though, either or both of these books would be ideal.

 A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip Christian Stead is the endearing story of a devoted zookeeper and his animal friends.  Every day Amos McGee rises early, "ambles" to the bus stop (at which point the younger lad always asks me "what's 'amble?'"), and tends to each of them individually.  When he comes down ill one day and stays home, the animals come take care of him just as he does them.  Erin Stead's illustrations are truly captivating.  Amos McGee is always in pencil drawing, with the surroundings and other characters in color. 

The illustrations in Amos McGee reminded me somehow of Teddy Bears Cure A Cold (though they are not all that similar).  One bear in a family of colorful bears comes down with a cold and is cared for by the other bears -- until it becomes apparent by the nature and content of his requests that he's probably feeling better than he lets on.  Susanna Gretz's series (illustrated by Alison Sage) also includes (among others) Teddy Bears Stay Indoors and Teddy Bears Take the Train.

Here's hoping everyone here stays healthy.  Should, however, The Sniffles strike, at least we'll have fun reading material.

the "dad gone" phenomenon

Rarely does my beloved's work take him out of town -- thankfully.  He had to travel this week, though, leaving before the bambini got up Monday and due home this evening.  Upon awakening from her (late) nap Monday afternoon, the lass was running a fever.   It's still with her, and a little higher today.  Funny how these things happen when Dad is away.  In the absence of other symptoms, I'm thinking it's teething-related. As the fever increases, though, maybe it's her ears.   Whatever the cause of her obvious discomfort, she is not a happy camper.  On previous occasions my beloved's been out of town, we've had trips to urgent care for ear infections afflicting one or more of the bambini and similar ailments.  Thankfully, it's not been anything serious or emergent in nature. 

The mother of the family friends I refer so often has a name for this curious phenomenon of something happening to the house or car or someone getting sick when Dad is away:  "Dad Gone."  Her husband travels extensively, so she knows it well.  How single mothers and mothers whose husbands are deployed, travel a lot, or even work out of town on a regular basis do it is beyond me.

Barring any travel snags, my beloved will be home in a few hours.  We will all be so happy to see him.

*10pm post script: as soon as my beloved arrived home safely, I took the lass to urgent care upon the advice of our pediatrician's office.  Diagnosis: first ear infection.  Seems our brand of "Dad Gone" phenomenon skews distinctly toward ear infections, as that's what seems to come up most often.  Wonder what that's about??

clearing the decks

I am by no means a neat freak.  I'm actually a pretty skilled architect of stacks.  I've made it a crusade of mine, though, to rise above the temptation to put things into stacks to deal with "later" and instead process them as they come in.  This applies to such things as mail and schoolwork and hasn't filtered down to all the areas of my realm (like closets).

I loves me a nice, clear, clean counter top.  This is not to say, however, that they are always free of clutter, as they tend to attract such matter. When the counter tops fill up with stuff, I get kinda antsy.  As it stands today, the counters need some lovin'.  They're not at their best after this past week.  (They're not alone in that regard.)

This waffling back and forth between letting things pile up (in the closet, for example) and having a (next to) zero-tolerance policy on counter top clutter is a fairly recent phenomenon and remains a mystery to me about myself.  But then again, I do eventually reach a point when I will tackle the closet and reign in the mess.  It's just less of an ongoing maintenance process like the one I employ on the counter tops.

There's something cathartic about clearing the decks.  I'll try not to let the compulsion get out of hand...

tough choices

Today the elder lad's preschool is going to the zoo.  The families have been asked to go rather than the teachers and volunteers managing the big group.  While I support this idea, we are not going -- not today.

Here are some reasons why:

• I am a simpering mess.
• The lass started running a temperature last night and is starting to simper herself.
• The wind is sweeping down the plain with great gusto.  This does not bode well for any of us who are already ailing with allergies and sinus misery (that's all of us).
• Our bambini like to experience the zoo at their pace, lingering here and there and skipping over other things.  Going with a big group does not allow for this kind of flexibility.
• I noticed on another school bulletin board that today is their class field trip to the zoo, and I would not be surprised if other schools have the same idea for today.  We once went to the zoo during Spring Break.  I won't be doing that again.  Conversely, we went as a family on a drizzly June day and had the place to ourselves and a delightful time.
• Any zoo outing is always an undertaking for us, even under the best conditions.  Such are not present today.

 The lad is understandably disappointed to miss the outing with his "schoolmates", as he calls them.  In discussing this situation, I've let him know the reasons why we aren't able to go today, expressed empathy for his disappointment, and told him that we hope to go as a family soon when we can experience the zoo as we like to -- looking for the teeny poison dart frogs, the jaguar, the lions and tigers, the giraffes, and spending as much or as little time as we want checking them out to our satisfaction.  He seems okay with it now.  In fact, he seems happy to have a home day to play cars and other such things he enjoys.

Today happens to be the younger lad's spiritual birthday, the occasion of his baptism three years ago.  He's requested French toast for dinner, so it'll be fun getting that ready together.

This zoo trip is one of those cases (as with so many others) where the decision must be made taking into account the needs of all the family members.   Given all the factors, it's a no-brainer.  We might not be headed to the zoo, but we can still make it a "glory day" (even if we're sniffling).

mothering under the weather

The lads are finished with their rounds of antibiotics.  Now it's me with a selection of them.  I've got another sinus infection --the second in a month, for which I have two prescriptions.  Fabulous.  Being on antibiotics again so soon is, as I've written before, unsettling to me, as it had been many years (pre-marriage and motherhood) since I had been on them (thankfully) and now I'm on them for the third time since November.

Forging ahead with caring for bambini when we ourselves are mildly under the weather is one of those things that we who are primary caregivers of little people just do (as do people employed in other professions).  There is no calling in sick.   I'm not incapacitated, but I am feeling the effects of the infection and companion restless night (or several, since the younger lad has been coughing so much at night).  This makes me far less patient when it comes to normal (if annoying) antics and mischief-making or (more seriously) disobedience.  It also makes me feel less like playing and more like turning on a video, though I've been trying to read to the bambini as much as my raspy voice will allow and still be as present to them as possible (along with some selective video watching).

I know it's got to be difficult for the bambini to understand why Mama might not be up for repeated trips upstairs to play or running around outside.  I hope to be back to my regular self soon.   As we slog through this allergy season, here's hoping we can all find ways to grow in holiness by offering up our small sufferings.  Maybe this is an opportunity for the bambini to practice their virtues of kindness, patience, and self-control (among others).  If nothing else, they'll know their mama is not immune to the same allergens and germs that are causing them such sniffling, coughing, and general malaise.

apothecary shop

Allergy season is really giving us -- like so many others -- some trouble around here.  To show for it, we have a veritable apothecary of over-the-counter and prescription medicines, supplements like probiotics to help offset the tummy-upsetting effects of antibiotics, and vitamins.  One lad is on antibiotics to treat an ear infection that resulted from his allergy flare up, the other lad has an antibiotic eye drop to clear up an infection in his eye that seems to have developed from his allergies, and all three bambini now take an over-the-counter allergy remedy each night before bed.  This is in addition to the vitamins they take to maintain general health.

To keep all this straight, I've made a list of what each child is taking, how frequently, how much, and for how long, and we make tick marks on either the bottle of antibiotics or a piece of paper each time prescriptions are dispensed.  The organizer in me wants to make a chart for a more visually-enhanced experience.  I wonder if that might be overdoing it.  Probably not.

Having been through two stints of allergy shots myself and experiencing great improvement in my seasonal allergy suffering, I am no stranger to the allergy scene.  The shots helped, though, and I have been off allergy medication entirely for several years.  We live in one of the "allergy capitals" of the country, and this year is one of the worst seasons by way of pollen counts and their effects on allergies. Fresh off antibiotics myself to clear up a sinus infection, now I've got a similar eye ailment affecting the younger lad.  My beloved is also feeling the effects of the proliferation of allergens.

Whenever possible, we try to heal ailments with natural remedies such as buckwheat honey for coughs (at our pediatrician's recommendation), nasal saline rinses for clearing sinuses (though I haven't brought myself to trying a neti pot, which has garnered a lot of media attention this year), and homeopathic remedies.  We try to avoid using antibiotics unless absolutely necessary (but will when warranted).  Ever the obsessive label reader, when we must resort to over-the-counter medications, I try to find the ones that are dye-free and contain the fewest preservatives and ancillary (or "inactive") ingredients.  Side effects are something we take into consideration when deciding whether to start a new medication.

The worst part for me is seeing the bambini suffering, like last night when the younger lad coughed so hard he threw up, or when we're having to administer medication that is unpleasant for them to receive (like his eye drops -- how he loathes them).  My heart goes out to those people and families who face constant and far greater suffering than we do.   We are very grateful for our overall good health and place a premium on nourishing ourselves well to maintain it. 

Here in our little home pharmacy, we hope to dispense with the dispensing of medications as soon as the allergen heyday for such things as tree pollens and grasses tapers off.  Until then, I'm going to be monitoring our supply of tissue and tinkering with my chart to get it just so.  I'll probably get it that way just when the need for it is ending.  And that will be fine by me...

so it goes

Funny thing happened this morning: as their dad was leaving for work, the lads discovered a bowl of lemons on the counter.  The younger lad held one above his head and ran around the house yelling "I'm a lemon head!"  Soon we had two Lemon Heads.

I was just about dash over and post this very story, when, as can happen, soon the lemony glee was replaced by some minor fisticuffs between the lads owing to one wanting some space in the bedroom they share and the other seizing an opportunity to irritate his brother by having none of that.

This squabble extinguished, everyone's personal space respected, and the brothers at peace with each other again (how quickly they can let such things go is a bit of a wonder to me, but I'm glad of it), we loaded up to take the elder lad to the pediatrician.

Upon arrival, the younger lad asks "where's the stroller?"  (Sometimes I bring one if it's just me taking all three to the ped.  Sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth.)

"I didn't bring one, babe.  Everybody's walking today."

"Except [the lass].  You carry her, Mama?"  he asks.  I answer in the affirmative.   "I can walk."  he says.  "I have feet.  We all have feet."

Diagnosis: ear infection.  Lovely.  This on top of the relentless sniffling thanks to the ridiculous pollen count.  Poor guy.

Now the house is quiet with three sleeping bambini (a rarity during daylight hours).  Here's hoping my elder Lemon Head will soon be feeling more like himself...

perspective

A week or so ago, my friend paralyzed as a complication of bacterial meningitis moved out of the local hospital to one equipped to teach her how to live life to the fullest in her present state while maintaining hope that she will one day regain movement.

The thought of her being hundreds of miles away from her family and friends while she tries to heal is one that weighs heavily on my mind.  In fact, the enormity of her situation is something that I struggle to understand -- and don't really think I can -- but I don't believe God has caused this to happen to her.   As this homily by Fr. Jack Gleason from the Third Sunday of Lent addresses, that is not how God operates.

While I can't explain why my friend is suffering so greatly (and each in their own way her husband, children, family, and friends), my faith tells me it is not without meaning.  I can find great hope and strength of faith in seeing the ways people have responded to this family's crisis.  Untold numbers of people are praying for her recovery and for the protection and well being of her children and family.  Her direct caretakers and those caring for her children have had and continue to have opportunities to give comfort, offer aid, show mercy, and allay anxiety.  And each one of us aware of her situation cannot help but be moved to consider the multitude of blessings and gifts bestowed upon each of us -- down to the very gifts of life and breath.

I continue to pray God's will be done in my mama friend's life and in the course it takes from here.  If it is his will, I pray she is restored to complete health with full use of her body.  Considering the road she is on helps keep the road I travel each day in proper perspective.  Each of us is not without struggle or difficulty or pain, but most of the time what I face as a result of fatigue or stress or whatever else pales in comparison to what she must grapple with.

The move to this hospital is one that will, as our mutual friend has written, teach her "how to live in her home, with her family, raising her children."  So many people suffer so greatly in so many different ways.  Never far from mind are my Aunt Robin and my friend Jake, who both lost battles with cancer at early ages, and the many people in my family and friends who struggle with chronic illness and the grief of having lost loved ones.  Disease and suffering are never easily understood for anyone of any age.  When they strike "young" people, it is even more difficult to comprehend.    Keeping this in mind helps me maintain some perspective -- specifically, the grace to be grateful for the particular cross Christ calls me to carry, knowing that he will supply all the grace and aid to carry it, and that such suffering is not without value when joined to those Christ endured on the cross.

It seems my friend has been living Lent in a very tangible way since late January when she fell ill.  I pray as Easter approaches, she and all those who suffer will know Christ's healing grace.

great expectations

When I was a novice music director planning the first Christmas liturgies of my service, I selected Marty Haugen's ebullient "Awake, Awake, and Greet the New Morn" as the opening song of the Christmas Day liturgy.*

"Awake, awake, and greet the new morn,

For angels herald its dawning,

Sing out your joy, for now he is born,

Behold! the Child of our longing.

Come as a baby weak and poor,

To bring all hearts together,

He opens wide the heav'n-ly door

And lives now inside us for ever."

Festive, yes, and fitting, sure -- but not "O Come, All Ye Faithful" or "Joy to the World" or some other such bulwark of the Christmas carol repertoire as some might have been expecting.  I was known for introducing a lot of new music to the parish, and Christmas was no exception.

Each of us has our own set of expectations when it comes to such things as major holidays like Christmas.  They are built on tradition, the memories of our childhood, the hopes we have for how we'd like to celebrate in the future, and (at least) what we think the people we plan to celebrate with expect of the holidays.  But what happens when it all turns out differently?

The final two weeks of Advent passed in a blur for our family.  Our lad who seemed so fragile was for good reason.  He was diagnosed with pneumonia, then a week later turned up with an allergic reaction to the antibiotic prescribed to treat the pneumonia.  Before that latter revelation, we were contending with breathing treatments and medicine and such.  This left little time or energy left for fully entering into the Christmas mystery -- at least, in the way I thought I should have.

With Christmas Eve came a blizzard -- an anomaly for our region of the country.  Its arrival meant no family coming over to spend Christmas Eve with us or us going to visit other family on Christmas Day as we had planned, treacherous travel conditions for those who did venture this way, and no outing to Mass -- the centerpiece of our entire Christmas celebration.

Now the weather conditions are improving, and family is on the way to celebrate with us.  May our tidings be festive, joyful, and grateful for the blessings of family, the restoration of good health for our young lad, and most of all for the gift of redemption that comes with the arrival of the Christ child.

Christ enters into our reality knowing full well what it is, and wanting to be a part of it.  Our desire to be still and listen and make every little detail perfect is itself a gift from God -- a stirring of our devotion and faith.  But he knows our particular circumstances -- chaotic and stressful and exhausting though they may be -- and embraces us and them.  Even when we can't come to him, he comes to us.

I don't remember if we got to this fourth verse of the carol that Christmas morning with the obscure music (there *were* other, more familiar selections that morning), but it certainly seems fitting this year:

"Rejoice, rejoice, take heart in the night,

Though dark the winter and cheerless,

The rising sun shall crown you with light,

Be strong and loving and fearless;

Love be our song and love our prayer,

And love, our endless story,

May God fill ev'ry day we share,

And bring us at last into glory."

*In our Catholic tradition, there are several Masses celebrating Christmas beginning on Christmas Eve, including the vigil Mass on Christmas Eve, Mass at Midnight, and Mass during the Day on Christmas Day.

triage

The same sweet lad who was just a few days ago wooing me with his little sonnet of Mama love has fallen ill with a fever, junky sounding cough, and upset stomach.  The past couple of days he's been saying he needs me to snuggle him, which I am always happy to do, especially when he is as obviously miserable as he is.  Who wouldn't want their mother at such a time?

Now that Daddy is home for the weekend things are a little more manageable, but yesterday was a different story...

While the ailing lad needs Mama to hold him, his older brother also wants me to play trucks with him, and the baby girl has set her sites on climbing the stairs on her own.  After that she decided that Mama-holding-business looked pretty good and wanted plenty of it for herself (when she wasn't trying to rearrange her elder brother's careful set-up of animal figurines and trucks).  What's a solo-flyin' Mama to do?

As I scurried around preparing what might pass as "lunch" amidst the feverish lad's plaintive pleas for me to hold him, the elder lad was (thankfully) quizzing me on how to spell "construction site" for him to label the truck drawing he'd done at school this week.  The lass was making her request for sustenance known as well; Mama barely managed to get everyone something to eat. 

At times like this, it's all about triage.  Who is in the greatest need at this very moment?  As I've written before, multitasking is an art form I practice daily to master.   When it comes to the immediate and intense needs of these three souls, Mama desperately wants to meet them all.  But I'm only one person.  How can I?

One idea is to pile up and read together.  We did that for a while.  We fudged a little on the TV time, all watching a Planet Earth episode on oceans, Dinosaur Train, and Curious George.  We bundled up and went for a drive; the sleep that had eluded the ailing lad during our story hour came shortly after backing out of the driveway, and his brother and sister fell asleep themselves.  (I had packed some dark chocolate in case things worked out that way.  Mama needed the endorphins.) 

Help arrived shortly after we got home in the loving hands of my mom, dad, and sister.  Everyone's spirits were buoyed when Daddy arrived home with pizza.

The two healthier siblings did what they could to console and care for their brother, though by the end of the day with only brief rolling siestas for anyone, patience was in short supply.  The poor lad didn't mean to be fussy; he simply couldn't help it.  We've all been there.

He's still sick today, but his spirits are improved.  Here's hoping the extra TLC will be just what he needs to get over what's ailing him.

Lord, I pray for guidance in caring for these children, for their physical, mental, and spiritual health, for my younger lad's speedy and complete recovery, and for continued health for my other two children.  I don't know how "mothers of many" balance these precarious situations.  I guess they just do the best they can with what they have at the moment.  That's what I tried to do yesterday.  It wasn't the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last.  I pray that God will make up the difference between what I'm able to provide and what my children need.