Recent (and current) Projects

While on our trip I worked on several small projects for these groups, You Are My Child and Calvin's Hats. You may have seen the first set I made. The first thing pictured below, however, was a special request.

For the mom of a little boy named Matthew, 13 weeks.

He departed in 1970 and she never saw him.

She asked me to make a hat that would fit him. It fits on my thumb.

FINALLY finished my first knitted project, a dishcloth.

...or a washcloth. It's all cotton.

Two matching ripple blankets, about 10 inches square.

The matching pouch, about 8 inches square. I haven't put the lining or ribbons on yet.

The matching hats. (I may redo these...)

Two cross blankets (@11" sq.) and one hat (thumb-sized). Still have a lot to do here.

Two blankets and two matching hats. Approximately the same sizes as the previous.

An unfinished cross blanket, the beginning of another set.

Multiple tiny hats made on our trip while trying to figure out how to make them.

Zeal vs. Divine Grace

 If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. [1 Cor. 13:1]

Saint Makarios, the famous Desert Father, had decided to go to a church festival along with the monk who was subservient to him. The young monk had gone on ahead. He was a beginner and had a beginner's zeal. As he was walking along he met an idolater, a priest of a pagan temple. He spoke harshly to him and said:

"Where are you off to, you deluded soul?"

The priest was enraged and attacked the novice, leaving him virtually unconscious.

A short time later the priest met the elder. When Abba Makarios, blessed as he was by divine grace, saw the man in a state of shock and aggravation, he said to him: "Good man of God, where are you going to?"

As soon as the priest heard these words his heart softened, he stopped in his tracks, and said:

"Your words have calmed me down."

"Yes," said Abba Makarios. "I see you're in a hurry, only you don't know where you're hurrying to."

But he said it in an humble and brotherly tone of love.

"When you speak," said the idolater, "your words open my heart, but a short time ago another monk spoke to me in a very different way and I gave him a good beating."

Abba Makarios spoke to him in such an inspired way, that the idolater gradually changed his beliefs, became a monk and was saved. With his good words and manners he communicated the good spirit. He communicated the uncreated energy and entered the soul of the idolater. The novice, on the contrary, communicated a spirit of anger and aggression from the spirit he had within him.

-Abba Makarios in Wisdom of the Desert Fathers quoted in Wounded by Love by Elder Porphyrios

There and Back Again

(The cemetery in the town of White Haven, PA)

 I really didn't take any pictures at the monastery (Holy Protection). Physically it looks the same as on other trips and I just spent my time being there rather than documenting. I did take some time the day before we left to write a lot down in a journal before I forgot the details.

The kids were two years older than the last time we took them so we were able to leave them to sleep in our room while we (Father and I) attended the 4 AM Paraclesis services and Liturgies. They have Vespers and Compline every evening at 4 PM and Liturgies at 4 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays, 8 AM on Saturdays and 10 AM on Sundays. All the other nights, er, mornings, they have Paraclesis. Ribby attended two of the 4 AM services.

The girls were able to do some work in the sisters' workshops which was nice. The boys played around and everyone loved the cats of which there were several.

We didn't just stay at the monastery. On Monday we went up to the monastery of St. Nectarios. Father drove the kids in the van and I drove a 15 passenger van full of boxes of apples, gifts from the sisters at Holy Protection to the monks. After I got used to the higher center of gravity, it wasn't that stressful. I did almost hit our van while backing out (the first time I reversed) but that was the only time. I hadn't allowed enough room for clearance. Those vans are LONG. We were able to see the church there and one of the fathers brought out the relics of St. Nectarios and St. Panteleimon for us to venerate. Wow. I will say that the icon painted at the back of the church of the Dormition is probably the best I've ever seen. I would love to have a print of it. The monks also had cats and one extremely large ginger cat decided he loved Father. He curled up in his lap and tried to burrow into his beard. Father was all over cat hair when we left.

Wednesday night we attended a moleben at St. George's in Taylor and venerated the myrrh-streaming icons of the Theotokos. I wrote about my experience here. We stayed rather late and there weren't too many of us left when we all sang "O Pure Virgin". It was incredible. The kids were starving when we left; we got back to Holy Protection at 9 PM. The sisters had kept supper for us so that made things simple.

Thursday we drove up to St. Tikhon's. We weren't sure we would go until just before we left and we only stayed an hour. I did see Rebekah's husband at the bookstore there. (: Thanks to a friend at Holy Protection (who attends the seminary at St. Tikhon's) we were able to slip into the monks' chapel and venerate the wonder-working icon of St. Anna! They also had a reliquary with many, many relics. St. Benedict and St. Helen were among them and it was great for Father and Ribby to venerate the relics of their own saints. We also went into the main church and showed the kids around. None of them who had been born before we left (the girls) remembered it. We venerated all the relics there too. I tramped around in the cemetery and saw a lot of familiar names.

I mentioned before how we heard in passing about this "storm" coming through the area. After I called my parents and then my brother I got a better idea of what we were facing. We were very unsure what to do and thought we might leave Sunday after Liturgy and head due west before dropping south to MS. This would add time and trouble and we still weren't sure we wouldn't catch some bad weather in doing that. In the end, we decided to leave after Liturgy Saturday morning. We didn't actually make that decision until Liturgy was over and we were drinking coffee. Then there was a massive rush to pack and load up. I was quite exhausted when we finally drove away. We were a little crowded because we had four bags of food, mostly carbohydrates, shoved in by the sisters before we left. One of the bags was a picnic lunch. I was very amused that they threw in a bag of chips with the sandwiches. I didn't know they had chips. (c;
 
We love driving through Virginia. I could look at those mountains forever.

I think this is the only picture of me during the trip:

 
Saturday night after we arrived in Lexington we were finally able to see the weather on television. The kids were glued to the Weather Channel. I'm glad they've been properly brought up. (c;

We passed I don't know how many convoys of utility trucks heading east (while we were in PA) and north (after that). Some were carting large loads of utility poles. Good thinking. They were from most all of the SE states. When we were in MS we passed a convoy of between 20 and 30 trucks heading north. They were all from the area where we live. We had so much help from other states when Isaac came through a few months ago - it's nice to pay it back. [Father said this is the time when you don't want a surprise hurricane to roar through Florida or something while all of the trucks are up north. LOL.]

I am SO tired and the luggage still hasn't been unpacked but at least we've had supper, I've gotten milk from the store, the kids are in pajamas and I have a load of laundry going. Two of our three cats have shown up (Indy and Smoky). Genevieve will probably wander up in the morning looking for breakfast.

Thanks for sticking around while I was gone!

Going home...

Almost there. Just a 7 hour drive today and we'll be home. I hope our cats haven't deserted us.

I didn't wind up taking nearly as many pictures as I had thought I would. Anyone who has had the experience of going somewhere and simply soaking it up rather than photographing it will understand. I did take some though but they'll have to wait until we get home to download.

One thing I'll mention: I got to venerate the wonder-working icon of St. Anna!! It was totally unexpected and such a blessing.

Remind me to tell you about the experience of driving a 15 passenger van full of apples 2 1/2 hours from one monastery to another. In the rain. Over mountains.

Everything else will have to wait until we get home. Gotta go load up!

Not *quite* back...

Just a quick post to let everyone know we're not home yet. (Our parish is painfully aware already!) It's been a blessed trip but I won't try to describe it now. Due to various chains of events we wound up moving from plan A (leaving Thursday morning) to plan B (leaving Friday morning) to plan C (departing Sunday after Liturgy) and then revising it to plan D which was departing in great haste as soon as we could get packed and loaded today after Liturgy. We're basically running from the hurricane (Sandy) because otherwise we were in danger of getting nicely stuck on a mountain with no power, torrential rains, downed trees, and then, to top it off, a ton of snow. Not exactly conducive to ever getting home. I only heard about the hurricane last night at supper when some sort-of-English-speaking pilgrims said something about 70 mph winds. Huh?? I have been in total news isolation. We'll be home Monday and I have internet for the first time in 9 or 10 days right now thanks to the hotel wifi. To everyone whose email I did not answer tonight, I read them and will reply as soon as possible, tomorrow or Monday.

I'm praying for everyone in the hurricane's path: the nuns at Holy Protection, the monks at St. Nektarios, Elizabeth (in her new home, no less!), Mat. Emily and family, everyone at St. Tikhon's, and everyone else. Be careful. Please.

I've missed everyone! Will post more later.

Rerun: Grandmother

 Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 6-22-11 [Today is the seventh anniversary of her repose. May her memory be eternal!]

She was an only child, doted on by her parents.

She was a Girl Scout at a time when they really were scouts. She'd tell us about going camping for two weeks during which time the weather was mostly rain. They put up tents – not the modern “pop-up” kind, but the kind that needed some skill. They built a ring of rocks in the creek and put the butter in a water-tight container in the creek to keep cool.

She was the secretary of a club in high school that must not have met for long because there were only three entries in her book. She had beautiful handwriting.

She collected buttons. I still have oodles of them and use them only after careful consideration. I have her button collecting books as well.

I don't think she could sew except to put on a button or sew a straight seam to hem curtains. Her mother, however, made her clothes including an elaborate pink confection of a prom dress and her beautiful wedding dress.

She was petite and looked like a movie star. I wish I had the photograph of her on the beach in a bathing suit, leaning against the hood of a late-model (for the time) car. She was a knock-out.

She was Baptist, but married a Catholic and was a staunch Catholic ever after. She sang in the choir until Alzheimer's took that away from her. Many is the Sunday I can remember sitting in the pew of St. Patrick's with a family memorial plate on the end, leafing through a missal with English on one side and Latin on the other (note to self at time: kyrie is not pronounced, “KY – ree”). I could hear her beautiful soprano soaring over the other notes. She sang all the time. When she was busy with something she'd half sing, half hum to herself. She also liked to whistle.

She liked to talk. She enjoyed talking with everyone from the people who pick up the trash to the parish priest. We were always the last to leave Mass because she was on the steps talking to the next-to-last person. Everyone was a friend.

She was always cheerful when we were around. I've been told that for a year after my grandfather's death at the untimely age of 58 she withdrew and wouldn't talk to anyone. Being only one at the time I don't remember this. What I remember is a smiling, energetic woman who was always happy. When she got annoyed about something she simply couldn't make it last.

She had a green thumb. She loved plants and I think they loved her back. Her yard was always a paradise to us growing up. I don't remember any fancy “landscaping”, just beautiful plants and flowers. Because she owned the lot across the street which adjoined the bay, she planted there too. There were no houses to obscure the view of the water from her enclosed front porch and she liked to see flowers there. Because there was no faucet, she carried buckets of water across the street to water them daily. Eventually we had a faucet put in, but she wasn't able to go over there much after that. I think she loved wild flowers the best though and we always brought her bouquets of phlox.

She was a pack rat. I've heard that people who survived the Depression often saved everything because it might be of some use. She certainly remembered the Great Depression and her house was stuffed. It was beautiful, because she loved beauty, but if you opened a closet door you were likely to get buried under an avalanche. As as child I loved “rooting around” in cabinets, closets and the attic because it was like going on a treasure hunt. I wonder if my love to this day of “junk” stores and thrift stores stems from the joy of unearthing a figurine I would be allowed to take home to my dollhouse. After she died, it took forever to clean out her house.

She was an English teacher and loved it. She loved her pupils, she loved the literature. Like me, she found Shakespeare funny and I think Tom Sawyer was her favorite book. “Tom and that poor cat!” she would say with laughter. She loved to read and also subscribed to a multitude of magazines. They were always hopelessly piled in multiple corners: by the large chair that had been my grandfather's, by the breakfast table, by the television. I don't think I ever left her house without taking a magazine to read on the trip home.

She was very fashionable and had a closet so full of shoes as to rival Imelda Marcos. Because she was so tiny, no one else could wear them. She loved shopping and enjoyed talking to every single sales associate. She never left the house without makeup and jewelry and she liked her lipstick red. She had had white hair from a surprisingly young age and although I've seen pictures of a stylish woman with beautifully coiffed silver hair, my childhood memories of her are with auburn hair. She dyed it for decades. She had always been so well-groomed that the disheveled look of Alzheimer's was a particular pain. There was the Christmas she was given some new slips and declared that they were so pretty she would wear them outside her clothes. By then we were afraid she would.

Rerun: "There's a hole in this cake!"*

 Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 11-14-10

I had some fool idea that I would make a bundt cake for Duchess's birthday party instead of a regular layer cake. (We had her party this evening as it's the last day before the fast.) Have I ever made a bundt cake that turned out? No. I can't ever get the blame thing to come out of the pan in one piece.

Well, this evening was no different. Flopsy was hanging over the counter watching my futile efforts. When I finally felt the weight shift, I moved the pan to find that a significant amount of cake was still up in the pan. I looked at it for a moment and Flopsy said, "I'm sure this has happened to lots of people before." What a sweetheart.

Well, usually I can correct errors with mortar frosting (which is why I always buy TWO cans) but I had some doubts. To get the correct shape I was going to wind up putting us all into a sugar-induced coma. I started putting frosting on gingerly. There was no way I wasn't going to have some crumbs mixed in so I pretended not to see them. I figured I'd put flowers over the worst spots. (Boy, this cake is sounding better and better, isn't it?) After I put the white layer on I set it aside so I could fix dinner. I was going to decorate it afterwards.

Father came in the kitchen and expressed some surprise that I'd made a bundt cake. I shared what had happened. I told him that the phrase that came to mind as I was icing was "Well, you win some and you lose some." More appropriately would have been, "You win some and some they just pull the blanket over your head." He said that my cake would have needed a closed casket. Then he proposed a bakery to that end. Here's the imagined conversation:

Customer: "Is my cake ready?"
Baker: "Um. Maybe you should just come to the bakery."
Customer: "What's wrong? Is it ready?"
Baker: "Ma'am, I think you need to come down here. Is there anyone who can drive you?"
Customer: "No, and I can't come right now. Tell me what's wrong!"
Baker: "Well, we did all we could, frosting infusions, toothpick splints, even an entire layer transplant. But..."
Customer: "You mean..."
Baker: "I'm sorry. We lost the cake."
Customer: "Noooo!!!!"
Baker: "And you're going to want a closed casket."

(Pictures of the resurrected disaster to follow later.)

*From My Big Fat Greek Wedding

Rerun: The Bible-believing, Full-Gospel....Orthodox Church

 Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 6-10-11

I've heard before the assertion that the Protestant "Bible churches" or "Full-Gospel churches" really use the Holy Scriptures in their services, while the Catholic and Orthodox churches use "man-made liturgies". I don't want to be snarky here so I'm going to suggest that it is most probable that the vast majority of the people making these assertions have never actually attended a Catholic Mass or Orthodox Divine Liturgy nor have read either of them. That said, since it is something likely to come up, I thought I'd stick my neck out on the chopping block for a few minutes and address it.

I'm not going to get into the differences in how Protestants and Catholics and Orthodox believe the Bible was written/inspired/etc. That can be a topic for another day (but there are two good posts here). This is actually looking at how much actual, quoted Scripture is used in the course of the Divine Liturgy (and Mass). I found a fantastic analysis of the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom here (see below) done by the V. Rev. John Matusiak. It's much, much more than just the Epistles and Gospel. From the Opening Doxology to the Dismissal, the Liturgy is hopscotching all over the Old and New Testaments.  You can't get away from the Bible no matter where you look. There is also a discussion to be found here.

 The Catholic Mass too is based entirely upon Holy Scripture (article here).

As for how much Scripture is used in the course of a Protestant service, obviously it depends on the brand of Protestantism and that can be wildly divergent. I am vaguely familiar with what is used in the mainline Baptist churches and a little more familiar with what is used in the Episcopal churches and those are certainly seated on different parts of the spectrum. In any event, this was more addressing the assertion that the Orthodox and Catholics do not base their services on the Holy Scriptures, not about how much the Protestants do.

And on a lighter note, a sign I found while looking around...

Rerun: The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

 Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 12-1-10
 
What is your reaction when you come across something, whether it be in conversation, on the news, in a book, on a blog, whatever, that you feel is out and out wrong? Interestingly, I'm sure your reaction is different depending on what kind of wrong it is.

If you come up against something morally reprehensible, you probably feel indignation, disgust, outrage, sadness. It depends on exactly what it is and how bad you judge it to be. Some people are bothered more by one thing than another. You may be inspired to action, maybe to prayer. You may be inspired to move quickly to something else, mentally whisking the subject under the rug because you feel that you can't change it anyway so why think about it? You might put your fist through the wall.

If you see (especially in print - somehow this makes it worse) something factually wrong, again, the reactions will vary. Sometimes you might feel amused, if you're faced with a typo or Freudian slip. Sometimes you might feel lightly exasperated, They still haven't gotten that right. Sometimes your anger knows no bounds. This is mostly likely to occur when you see bare-faced lies in literature designed to instruct or persuade people. Lies that are almost certainly that, lies, and not merely mistakes. We are inclined, even grudgingly, to excuse mistakes, but have a hard time with lies, because they are done consciously and willingly.

So what do you do? This is the critical thing. Because you can only control your reaction, not anyone else's. The lie is there, the mistake is made, the sin is done. Time machines not having been invented yet, going back and undoing something is not an option, however strong the wish may be. Changing someone's mind? Possible, but usually unlikely. And engaging in a debate is risky. You tend to lose, even if you only lose your peace. I was told many years ago by an experienced nurse: Don't get in an argument with a crazy person. It's like getting in the mud with a pig: the pig enjoys it and you only get dirty. [This was sage advice.] This also brings up another issue: whether you should try.

If we're responsible for the education of someone else, like your child, then correcting misinformation is right and proper. It's your responsibility. What if you're talking about moral or religious misinformation? Again, if you are responsible for the person, then charge right in. What if it's someone in your parish? Only offer your opinion if it was asked and tread carefully. What if you're a priest? If you're a priest and reading this, then you can answer this one yourself; I'm not a priest. (c;

What if you encounter this sort of thing in a complete stranger? On a blog, say? Well, while acknowledging that finding something wrong, misleading, etc. in "print" is aggravating, you don't have any duty to chime in on the com-box in an effort to "set it right". Seriously. You have to look at in a risk-analysis sort of way. (1) What are the odds that your comment will be so illuminating that the heavens will open and angels will appear singing "alleluia" as the poster has a total conversion? (2) What are the odds that you will start a com-box war that only stops when the poster has enough and shuts down comments? (3) What are the odds that you will stump around angrily for the next week, thinking up clever and biting things to say?

Years and years ago, before I was Orthodox, I had a friend who was an avowed atheist. Yes, I look back in perplexity too. Anyway, this person kept a running conversation/debate alive on God's existence, etc., which kept me in a perpetual tizzy. After a very long time, I ended the relationship, realizing that while it had been a serious subject for me, it had been a game for that person. I spoke with my spiritual father about it long afterwards and he said (and this was earth shattering) "God does not need you to defend him." I was literally open-mouthed. I said that I thought we were supposed to. He clarified it by saying that while we should defend our faith personally, we had no responsibility to engage in fruitless discussions with people who were not receptive. This was terribly freeing.

I find this lesson easily applies to the situations I outlined above. This is how I can look sadly on a post that is (based on my experience and education) wrong, and not bite. I said earlier that we can only control ourselves, not other people. Why add anger to the list of things wrong that day? Or vengeful thoughts? Because if you come face to face with a wrong, getting blindingly angry only puts you between the Devil and the deep blue sea. Better to stay out of the water instead.

Footnote: When I was Catholic growing up, I was familiar with something called "the near occasion of sin", which translates to "something that will almost certainly tempt you to sin if you get near it". This is why we're supposed to avoid sinful literature, pictures, media, even some people. If you always get angry when you read about a certain topic, or visit a certain blog, or even look at the news, then for heaven's sake, don't do it. You don't have to "conquer" the passion of anger by constantly shoving the stimulus in your face.

Footnote #2: I will caution you to not assume that I'm referring to a specific blog or specific instance. This is honestly a very general post, and if anything was a sermon to myself. I don't want any feelings to get hurt out of a misunderstanding. Please forgive any confusion I have caused.

Rerun: A Visit to the Rectory

 Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 5-16-11

[Two nicely dressed women walk up the walk to a house in a small town. They bear in their hands a certificate for the "Matushka Blogger of the Year" award and a camera. They carefully step over the Legos on the porch.]

*knock, knock, knock*

-I'll get it!!!

-No, Pickles, you don't have any pants on!

-I've got him.

-Noooooo!!!!

[scuffling]

Hello?

Are you Matushka Anna?

Yes...?

We're here representing the Association of Blogging Matushki and we...

-He hit me!

-No I didn't!

-Yes you did!

-Did not!

-Did too!

-Did not!

Boys! Get your shoes and socks on and go play in the backyard! Sorry about that.

Don't worry about it.

Would you like to come in?

[They come in, stepping over the Legos on the floor, and have a seat on the couch. On the coffee table are a Dover Math and Science Catalogue, Southern Living from March 2010, two matchbox cars, seven Legos, three broken crayons and a cashew.]

Well, as I said, we're here from the ABM and we wanted to present you with...

-Mommy...I need help on the potty...

Just a minute, I'm sorry.

[As they sit on the couch, they notice the mantle. There are the expected candles, anniversary clock, teacups and lace doily, but there are also two light sabers and a can of Fresca. One of them squirms around and after a moment, pulls out a hairbrush from between the couch cushions. They look at each other.]

Ok, I'm back. Would you all like something to drink?

Yes, that would be lovely. Water would be fine.

Ice?

Yes, please.

[They follow her into the kitchen, stepping over the Legos in the doorway. One nudges the other and they smile at the open shelving stacked with blue willow and white china and glasses. As they take in the rest of the kitchen their smiles fade slightly. One particularly shudders at the dead flowers in the vase on the windowsill. A small child is eating a sandwich from a hot pink plastic plate at the table. He is wearing his shirt inside out.]

So what wonderful things have you cooked up in the kitchen lately? We really liked the recipes you shared and the picture of the quiche looked good enough to eat right off the screen!

Um...

(small boy): We had pizza last night! Mooommmmmmyyy, we're out of peanut butter.

(small girl): No we're not, Pickles is eating a PBJ.

No, Flopsy, we really are out of peanut butter, I'm sorry.

(small boy): So what is Pickles eating?

He's having a honey and jelly sandwich.

(small girl): Yuck!

[They leave the kitchen, glasses in hand. The ladies stop by the icon corner.]

What a nice icon corner!

Thank you.

I'm sure it's a lovely picture to see all of you gathered here three times a day.

Um...

Can we see your religious education materials? I'm sure they're extensive and creative.

Um...

Oh! Is this your music collection?

Yes, a good portion of that is Father's though.

Oh, I have this CD, I got it from SVS. Don't you have this one Sylvia?

No, I have it in Slavonic. Uh...are these yours or Father's?

Oh, ha ha, all of those are mine. Father doesn't listen to any of that.

[They look at the row of CDs with grim faces. One points to R.E.M. sandwiched between Simon and Garfunkel and Boston. Silently they weave around the table, carefully stepping over the Legos, back to the couch.]

So what were you ladies saying?

Oh, um. We just came for a little visit, you know, to see how you really live in your home, to see if it was like the blog...

Oh! Well, what do you think?

We'll keep you in our prayers. Sylvia, we have a plane to catch.

Rerun: The Big Three Eight, or, How to Age Rapidly

  Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 10-5-10 [This is funny because a week ago I finally hit "the big three eight".]

Father mentioned my birthday the other day (it's not today, it's tomorrow) and said, "Well, well! The big three-eight!"

I must have looked pretty startled.

M:  "I'm not going to be thirty-eight!"
F:  "How old are you going to be?"
M:  "Thirty-six!"
F:  "Are you sure?" (!)
M:  "Yes, I'm thirty-five about to turn thirty-six. My, my, my...someone's forgotten how old I am!"
F:  "I guess I've been thinking I was thirty-seven all year..."
M:  "No, you're thirty-six."
(pause)
M:  "Wait a minute, if you thought you were thirty-seven, how did I get to turn thirty-eight? You're older than I am!"
(sidestepping the question)
F:  "Why, we're young! I suddenly feel so young!"

Rerun: Preschooler Manners

  Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 6-25-10

"I burped Mommy....Mommy, I burped! Hey, Mommy? I BURPED!"

Sigh.

Pickles knows to say "excuse me" for any minor bodily offenses but sometimes he wants to wait until someone (me) gives him a 'look' first so he can say it with a rougish grin.  The thing is, if I'm doing something at the time which doesn't allow me to take full notice, he must bring it to my attention first, before getting a look, before saying "excuse me".

Sigh.

Even though it feels like a losing game sometimes, I have always tried to teach my children manners from an early age - like before they could talk.  I guess that sounds a little crazy so let me explain.  When I would hand the baby (not tiny infant, just old baby/young toddler only saying "mama") a cup or spoon or toy or whatever, I would say "thank you" as I handed it to them, then say "you're welcome".  Children are little copycats.  It doesn't take long before they're saying "thank you" too.  Of course, sometimes it gets mixed up and you find the toddler handing something to someone saying "thank you" and expecting them to say "you're welcome".  It all gets straightened out in the end.

The next thing added is "please" (which dovetails nicely with "thank you").  Eventually you have a toddler on your hands saying:

"May I have some more juice, please?"  (Note the "may I" as opposed to "can I" - pet peeve)

Love it.

Rerun: Funny Christmas Story #1

 Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 12-7-10
 
Tis the time of year to reminisce. With all of the Christmas preparations going on, some memories of Christmases past have started to surface. Naturally, they're funny.

The funniest memories have to do with the tree. There are several Christmas's worth of tree stories so I'll avoid possible overdose by telling one at a time. Seriously, they're funny.

We were married in August of '97 and were able to spend a month together before we had to separate: Father stayed in place to teach and I moved back to Georgia for my last quarter of nursing school. I was so anxious to be back with him that I eschewed graduation, opting to have my diploma mailed to me, and left for Alabama three days early, right after the pinning ceremony.

I got there less than two weeks before Christmas and naturally nothing had been done. After all, we wanted to decorate and prepare together. The morning after I got there, while I was still in bed, Father had a call from someone at his school asking if I were a nurse and had graduated. Her husband was a doctor and needed someone that morning in his office to substitute. His substitute was actually out with strep throat. I said that if they didn't care that I wasn't in uniform (they were in a box somewhere) I'd come in to help. Well, to finish out that story, the original and the replacement never came back so I worked there for the next two years before seminary. Easiest job search I've ever done.

However nice it was to have a job, the fact remained that it was just before Christmas and we didn't have a lot of time to get ready. We finally managed to go out to find a tree the week of Christmas and the pickings were slim. I was ready to settle for a dinky one, thinking I could dress it up (a la Charlie Brown), but Father insisted that our first tree be nice. We then found one somewhere else for what was then an outrageous sum. I had to admit that it was a beautiful tree. I think it was a Frasier fir (my favorite).

We set it up in the front room. (Ok, I need to explain the house a little: We lived in a very old house without central heat. It was built on a shotgun shack plan for the most part and the heater was in the center of the house.) By putting the tree in the front of the house we were capitalizing on the fact that it was in one of the front windows and thus visible from outside. [Note: only visible with lights on. This is important.] On the other hand, this room was very cold. We tended to live in about four rooms during the winter with rolled up rugs at all the doors because we couldn't get the rest of the house to heat up.

So, there was the tree in all its glory. You could see the lights from the street and it was very cozy looking. It was anything but cozy inside and we were in coats to decorate it. The presents, as they arrived, were put under it and we gave it one more smile and shut the door.

On Christmas morning, we went into the front room to open presents (we couldn't go to church because the roads were shut down due to an ice storm) and the first things we opened were from my parents: two matching fleece jackets. We immediately put them on! We had little presents for our two cats, Lucy and Ethel but they wouldn't come any farther into the room than the doorway. As soon as we were done unwrapping, we shiveringly gathered up the presents and the wrapping, unplugged the lights, and departed the room, never to return.

You think I'm kidding?

Spring finally came to northern Alabama (it was pretty cold that year) and one day I was looking for a specific china serving dish. After a while, I thought it might be in an antique dresser I had in the front room and I dragged open the door (it was a little stuck) to look for the dish. I stopped in surprise and forgot all about the dish.

Yep, you guessed it. There was the tree.

Still decorated, still with lights on it (not plugged in, thank goodness). In fact, because it had been so cold, it looked perfectly preserved, still green. After gaping at it for a moment, I backed out and shut the door, deciding that I didn't want to miss Father's expression when he saw it. When he got home from school I walked him to the door and opened it. Ditto the expression. We laughed pretty hard at ourselves and set about to take the ornaments and lights off. I reached up for the first ornament near the top of the tree. At the slight vibration, every single needle fell off the tree and formed a perfect circle of green at its base. Every. Single. Needle.

Well, we got everything off and Father dragged the carcass across the street and threw it far, far back in the woods while I swept up several pounds of needles. He said he didn't want the garbage men to see it.

We never did leave the tree up that long again, but the very next year we had another hilarious tree incident. I'll leave that one for next time.

Rerun: More Conversations With Children

Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

 Originally published 8-23-10

I helped Pickles put on his adventure costume a minute ago and he looked up at me and smiled when I was done.  I said, "Are you Mommy's sweet boy?"
He nodded, said "Yes," then gave me a hug.  Then he said, "I'm cute!"
(Well, he was adorable.) "Oh, you're cute are you?"
"I'm fantastic!"
No ego problems there.

Duchess has a habit of picking up the cat, Indiana, and carrying him around like a baby.  He tolerates this for a time but then gets understandably irritated and wants to get down.  If you don't heed his plaintive miaow, he'll go for your face.  Duchess got off lucky this morning (she tends to ignore the miaow) and only got a small scratch to her hand.  She was supposed to have been finishing up some homeschooling and I told her so.  As I was putting the bandaid on she said, "I just can't work under these conditions!"

Ginger lost another tooth the other night and put it under his pillow.  The Tooth Fairy got caught up doing other things and forgot to visit.  The next day he was not only understandably disappointed not to find any money, he was also unable to find the tooth!  I hunted around for the tooth, making excuses for the fairy and finally wrote out and gave him a note that said: "Dear Tooth Fairy, Ginger has lost his tooth but now he can't find it.  Love, Mommy" and told him to put the note under his pillow.  He was skeptical but I reminded him that we had had to do that when one of his sisters swallowed her tooth.  As I was walking out of the room he asked me, "What does the Tooth Fairy need all of those teeth for anyway?"  On the fly, all I could come up with was "maybe she gives them to new babies".  Needless to say, the fairy got on the ball that night.

Rerun: Balloons

Hi! I'm out of town for a little while and am running some of my favorite posts, especially from the early days.

Originally published 4-22-10

 Last night at vespers, I looked down to see Pickles (3) take a little balloon out of his pocket.  I bent over and put my hand out and told him to give it to Mommy.  When he did I told him that we don't play with toys in church but I would keep it and give it to him afterward.  He nodded and whispered "ok".  I was overjoyed that I wouldn't be dealing with a temper tantrum two minutes into the service.  I thought, he's finally growing up.  Praise God! 

Then he slowly put his hand in his pocket again.  And pulled out four more balloons.

Sigh.

I quietly took the four balloons, at which he made no protest (no wonder he hadn't fussed when I took one balloon from him!).  Then I searched his pockets.

I pulled out a total of about 16 balloons from both pockets and a little rubber ball.  As I put them in my purse, I reflected that over the past few weeks I've stowed an assortment of goods including a harmonica and a little clay Indian flute.  The inner pocket of my purse was stuffed.  Remember in the movie A Christmas Story when the teacher confiscates all of the fake teeth and she opens her desk drawer to stow them and you see a wild assortment of confiscated toys?  That's what my purse felt like.  The flute had actually been snatched away just as he put it up to his mouth.  In church.

The girls really never did this but then, little dresses generally don't have pockets.

At least he's never brought in anything alive.

Yet.

[I couldn't embed the video.  Go to 5:30 on the link.]

Trip to the state park

This is looking up into a hollow tree which was still alive.

Rockets and Pizza and Remembrance [photos up now]

We took the kids to the Space and Rocket Center today. (: I had at least as much fun as they did - probably more. I always wanted to go to space camp... I'll try to get some pictures downloaded later. It's a little more complicated since we're not at home but I should be able to do it.** For lunch we went to Mellow Mushroom. I know it sounds incredible for a pizza-lover like myself but I've never been there. It was very good. (:
We'll see friends tomorrow at a large park and I hear there's a Greek dinner in the offing for tomorrow. After that, luxuries start to fade away and we head up to the monastery. I'm looking forward to it. We're north enough now that we are seeing a lot of changing leaves but this area is not anywhere near peak. I think that that part of PA will be at peak color when we get there. It should be gorgeous.

I should be able to get another post in tomorrow and after that I have some fun reruns scheduled. (: I hope it will keep you entertained. Lots of them are from a few years ago when I had only a few followers so you may not have read them before.

One more note: today is October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. In memory of my two baby boys, Innocent and Andrew, I'm lighting a candle.

**Photos!

 

(Pickles took this one)