A Good Story is Never Just a Story

Followers of this blog know I belong to a writer's forum.  One quote from Steven King we stress is about a writer having to read.  This would seem self evident, but two newer members took offense, and tried to insist that a writer need not read.   As blotchy a reader as I might be (sort of frenzy and then little and back to frenzy again), I know it's an essential component of the writer's life.  Here is why: 

As a child, I devoured fairy tails and fables, anything with fantasy had me neck deep in it, reading them over and over again. Some of those stories over the years became alternative versions of themselves, Disnefied by movies. The little mermaid got the guy and sacrificed virtually nothing in the end, and none of the stories ended with anything actually bad happening except to the villians as established early on in the tale.

The fairy tales became simpler versions of the stories they were, and while they dazzled with humor and music and color, they weren't what they once were, because they no longer told any story, but the plot which inspired them. Cinderella dances with her man and wins him in the end. The Beauty charms the Beast and they marry. Everyone gets a rich spouse and endless blessings in the end, with nary a worry or a care or a loss.

Fairy tales, real ones, they aren't like that at all if you go back to the source. People cut off their toes, they endure death, they lose and they lose and they lose and only after they've endured --seven years without speaking, or journeyed to complete hard quests that lost them loyal companions or treasures they thought they valued, do they come to their conclusions.

The stories tell stories beyond the plot, like Goldielocks and the Three Bears fulfill the wish of every older sibling when the new baby comes home. Everything was perfect until she showed up and ate my food, broke my things and took over my bed. We get rid of her, everything goes back to perfect.

Beauty and the Beast is a story of redeption and forgiveness and growth, but in its modern and most known version, that gift of mercy in the form of a transformative spell which allows for maturity and love to do it's job, is only allotted to the original prince. If you're a commoner and a jerk like Gaston, (as fun as he is as a villian), there's no hope for redemption, no magic that helps broaden the narrow vision of the townspeople the way it did those of the servants at the castle. Redemption for some doesn't resonate for me. I want the cycle to continue, if it's a tale as true as song and old as time.

Stephen King wrote about how he used his own trials as grist for the mill, and thus Misery is a story about his additction to cocaine. Steven Moffat did the same with his episodes of Dr. Who --where the invasion of the cubes that everyone took everywhere and took for granted, but which amassed information about everyone, was an attempt to look critically at our use of cell phones in this society. The weeping angels, were reminders of what pornography does to the brain --it destroys relationships, it stays in the mind and becomes a source of facination, and it becomes something which is hard to escape. All good stories, are much more and about much more than what happened.

What we read and what we live, is by necessity, part of what we pour out onto the page. The more we have to draw upon, the better we can create whole worlds, move hearts, evoke pain, heart ache, joy and great beauty. It is why reading is a mandatory 25 minute part of my writing regimen. It to me, is like stretching, before and after exercise. It cuts back on the possiblity of arrogance, because I can see before me someone else's craft and elegance and intellect and know it's superior, and it fuels my capacity to do more.

We live in a post-literary age, when people skim and skate along the surface of what's available.  For this generation's story tellers, it's all the more vital.  We're going to need to know all the stories that came before us, so we can introduce them to a new generation who is as of yet, only vaguely aware of the stories out there (and usually only via Disney).  Hopefully we can spark in them, the desire to dive deeper into all the words and worlds there are to find.

A fun piece over at the Register Today

Today, I gave some of my family's favorite Christmas stories a little shout out over at the Register...

Here's the link: Six Christmas Books for your Family.

Sometimes We All Need Reminders

Woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I'd somehow flunked a quiz.  Writing/publishing's been slow. Weight's remained steady despite exercise (Consistently) since July 4th.  In short, life felt rather like a dog day of summer.  I'd fallen asleep after rereading "A Horse and His Boy," by C.S. Lewis, and in that early hour of the morning, the chastening of Bree, the War Horse struck home.

Aslan appears.  "Now, Bree," he said, "you poor, proud, frightened Horse, draw near. Nearer still, my son.  Do not dare not to dare.  Touch me. Smell me. Here are my paws. Here is my tail. These are my whiskers.  I am a true Beast."

"Aslan," said Bree in a shaken voice, "I'm afraid I must be rather a fool."
"Happy the Horse who knows that while he is still young. Or the Human either."

Bree needed to learn what the hermit told him, but resisted until Aslan appeared.  "My good horse," said the Hermit, who approached them unnoticed because his bare feet made so little noise on that sweet, dewy grass. "My good Horse, you've lost nothing but your self-conceit. No, no, cousin. Don't put back your ears and shake your mane at me. If you are really humbled as you sounded a minute ago, you must listen to sense. You're not quite the great horse you'd come to think."  I thought about my frustration with not getting published or the job I wanted, and the wise words of a friend, about being willing to trust the right position would be there, and not wanting to surrender that bit of the ego.  To which God simply asks, "Why not?"

Sometimes, my self worth gets tied up in my weight, my accomplishments, or even asserting having ten children.  None of these are in any way related to anything other than what I've done or not done.  They have only so much merit as facts about me, for the having and the doing and the weighing are not where the worth lies, however often I misjudge myself.

I thought of our kids.  I love our children not for their ability to run a 5K or grades or even their obedience (when it happens).  I love them because they are.  Just so, my husband loved me long before any of this part of our lives happened and I him, and my parents, before I could do squat.  Love doesn't require us to do, but to be.  God loves us and we can do quite literally nothing without Him, and nothing "for" Him, but to love Him back.  We can only respond to God's love with our own imitation of His generosity and selflessness, with all that we allow ourselves to surrender. 

This morning, in my Facebook feed, a friend posted a quote, "Be so good, they can't ignore you." by Steve Martin.  I thought about that quote and while it's true that one must persist and keep honing one's craft no matter what, it is a calling to be good so as to be noticed and I believed in that moment, that's exactly what in some cases (not always and not all), I'd done.   At which point, the words of the Hermit to Bree hit home once more, after acknowledging he's braver and cleverer than the non-talking horses he's lived with; "It doesn't follow that you'll be anyone very special in Narnia. But, as long as you know you're nobody very special, you'll be a very decent sort of Horse."  and Bree still struggles before making it to Narnia with whether horses who talk, do horsey things like roll in the grass.  For him, pride is a constant thorn, because he wants to be special and he's used to thinking of himself that way.   He's used to valuing himself for how he is viewed, and for what he's done.

He rolls in the grass before he gets there, just to make sure he gets one last chance to enjoy himself before getting to Narnia.  While C.S. Lewis doesn't mention it, as he's wrapping up the story, we can know, in Narnia, Bree probably rolled with abandon, because he's finally surrendered that self-conceit. 

I'd made my list of things to do for the day.  I added confession.  Why?  Because that's how I roll. 

What We Wish for Them

Most days, I spend much of the time in the classroom trying to convince students they should read the meager 4, 7 or 11 such pages assigned.  Several do not read except under duress.  They know I love words, so they often ask me to read to them.

Sometimes I do.  Sometimes, I do not.

Today, was one of those "not" days.
"Why?" one asked.
"Because you need to train your brain just like you train your muscles, and that won't happen without practice."
"But it's hard!!!!!"
"It's two pages. You're in 10th grade. It shouldn't be."
"Ugh...."

They sort of read the two pages, and asked for help with the questions.

I sat wondering, should I have read aloud, if only to give them two more pages of material to draw from later.  There isn't enough time left in the school year to introduce them to all the stories out there that might chill their spines, thrill their hearts and challenge their brains.

One student lamented that we don't live in a Utopia, and I pined to hand her some of Plato's Republic and Animal Farm, and Hunger Games, Blithesdale's Romance and 1984 and the Giver, to illustrate to her the countless attempts to create a perfect society, and all the human moving parts which make it impossible.  However, she'd chaffed at two pages, and we'd even offered her some of those as choices and she'd refused because they were too long.  I'd love to somehow convince her to discover these books.  There's so much more than they imagine, so much more they could be exploring if only somehow today, something lit the spark. 

That's the real art of teaching, preparing each day in hope that this will be the day.  It will be a luminous moment, and all we who work with them are, is flint, striking at the tinder with steel, we are not the spark, and we are not the fire, only the instruments trying again and again and again and again, to create a flame. Today, someone will discover something more than they imagined, and it will be almost too much to bear.  It will act like a bubble of light almost lifting them through the rest of the day, even if it is filled with hard work outs or hard words. 

The whole goal of teaching is to help the students engage in the art of wonder, and revel in the world of ideas great and small, subtle and overt, beautiful and terrible, joyous and otherwise.  It's also to hope if today wasn't the day, that the kids went away fed, and chewing on some of what you presented, preparing for tomorrow, which who knows, might be the day. 

The Lazy Catholic Intellectual Starter Kit

I read a piece last week for the National Catholic Register on what every Catholic Library needs.  I looked at the list and thought about how those are good resources, but what does an ordinary time type of person in the Body of Christ need in their library, and thus it generated this piece:  The Catholic Lazy Intellectual Starter Kit.  Feel free to leave suggestions for my growing library and happy Amazon account.     ;)

7 Quick Takes Friday

1. So what did you learn on your week off?

I need to write. It helps me to deal with everything.  It also keeps my family and friends in the loop. It also helps me to keep my sense of humor.  The biggest problem with this blog business is I merged all of my types of writing to one format.  Humor, spiritual, book writing, on writing, politics, personal. The blog lost its focus over years and I let it, because it was the need to write more than the need to create a particular product.   However, having taken the week off, I found my funny bone again.  I'm not scrapping this blog, I think it is part of what makes sure I write, having an audience, having a place to place memories and material.

2.  What does this mean, are you taking another week off?

No.  I'm here. I intend to keep writing, but I've placed Small Success Thursday back over at Catholicmom.com where it belongs, I'll just link to it on Thursday.  I'm going to start submitting pieces to places that publish again --the Catholic Standard and the Catholic Digest and Catholic Stand, National Catholic Register, and I'm going to keep this place, a source of mirth on the internet.   I'm still writing Penelope, she's now at 32,600+words.

3. What are you reading?    Well, I just finished Rock Bottom Blessings, a beautiful life story about a woman and her husband and their growth as people and as a married couple as they faced the pain of infertility and the hardness of trying to adopt.  It was very enjoyable read.  Now I have three books on the side of my night stand, first is We Followed Odysseus --actual people who traced and visited every place Odysseus went as far as they could tell based on maps, currents, references, etc.  Should be fun, the second is 50 Major Plots, which I'm half through and starting to get bored with, but think it is probably important to finish, and the third is on my PC kindle, How To Defend the Faith Without Raising Your Voice. Just started so I'm still in the introduction.  Also received a nice email from Bettany Hughes, I wrote her about how her book Helen of Troy was instrumental in research for The Book of Helen.  She wrote back. Very cool.

4.  What are you doing?  Trying out the I can do anything for 15 minutes. I'm a believer.  If I set the timer, the house can be in tolerable shape in 45 minutes (15 per floor) and I don't hate life.   We're also trying (my daughter and I) the -5 rule.  I have a pile of 5 things to get rid of, today I will add 5 more.  She is too. We're both packrats of the wrong kind, so this is helpful. We've decided to do this for 30 days and see how things look at the end.  Where'd I get these two ideas?  Flylady and Real Simple.

5.  Exercising?  I'd say no, but my personal trainer pointed out what I said in #4 so I'm now putting down 15 minutes, and now because of #4, I've eliminated my excuse so yesterday I did 40 push ups.   (During commercial breaks of Dr. Who).

6.  What else is going on?   We're taking our second oldest to look at colleges.  Should have done this sooner.  Will hopefully one day get on the right schedule so it is less stressful. Her brother is going to take her around UMD today.   We also have to plan a birthday party for Rita and get an airline ticket for Bonnie so she can fly out and visit college #2 first week of November.  Busy.

7.  Goals.  I'm setting them for my children. (They don't know it yet).

Oldest: Not setting a goal for him, he's doing great, loving college, loving his major, really loving student teaching.
Next oldest: Finish applications.  All of them.
Next oldest: Make Honor roll by May.
8th grader:  Begin service project, get faster at speed round mathematics.
6th grader: Keep up fitness program and -5 program.
4th grader: Add 15 minutes of studying a night during the week, and once on Sunday --any subject, just to get in the habit.
2nd Grader: Chapter Books
1st Grader: Tie shoes
5 year old: Potty Training, Big boy bed.
2 year old:  Potty Training, toddler bed.
Me: Write 5K a week on Penelope, lose 17 lbs, continue doing all the juggling.   Don't drop any of those balls.

7 Quick Takes

1. If I didn't have these ten people to take care of, I'd hang out at the beauty parlor all day. Not because I want to get my hair done.  There are lots of testimonies in the history of this blog to prove I absolutely hate sitting still with someone fussing on my hair for hours at a time.  After twenty minutes, I'm ready to bolt.  However, I do love listening to the stories that seem to get told only at the hair salon.  Today, I took my daughter who had a day off to get her hair trimmed. She was traumatized that her hair was cut an inch --I wanted two or three, one was a compromise. Lou was a stroke victim and came here once a week to get her hair done. She was driven by her husband of 25 years.  She said he asked her to wait for him while he went to college. She said no and married someone else.  When that first marriage failed, he sought her out again.  She talked about how he cooks and drives her everywhere and there he was, sitting at the front of the store, waiting for his bride.   In this day when so many stories told on the news and everywhere else reveal a dearth of patience, a simple timeless holding on to each other (she was 84 this August), sounds wondrous.  Yes my brain went to Penelope too.

2. I never liked Aesop.

No one ever came out happy, only even.  But I read those fables over and over again.  One I really disliked was the story of the bat, who in the war between the beasts and birds refused to commit to either side and thus was shunned by both when peace broke out.  It reminded me of the reading about being lukewarm, neither hot nor cold gets spit out.  As a not self published author of an e-book, I'm neither bird nor beast.  The bookstores will host you if you are self published, or if you have a hard copy from a small publishing company, but absent a tangible book to put in their hands, it's like a virtual accomplishment in their eyes.  Sigh.

On the bright side, my inner monologue says in response, "I'm Batman."

3. Our National Discourse

We've come to a point and I blame Facebook, Twitter and other social media including com boxes, that whole scale dismissal of discussion based on political alignment substitutes for reasoned debate.  Recently I had to leave a facebook group that asked me to join after being subjected to constant group think that explained how all those who disagree with the existing law must be either backwater uneducated FAUX watching idiots or mind numbed capitalists who would return us to a nation of slave holders in an instant if the law allowed.  They also mocked all who hold faith as being authentic and real, those who are pro-life, and those who It is possible to disagree with the implementation of Obamacare without being someone who desires that the poor die, the sick get sicker, and insurance companies insulate their insulation with one thousand dollar bills and burn the smaller stuff for fuel and kicks.  

It is possible to say, this does not cover the people it was designed to cover, it makes hard demands on small businesses, and why should the public be forced to do something Congress and those who are friends with Congress can opt out of, without being declared an uneducated maggot who deserves to suffer.

The other day, some folks who clearly think the world of the existing plan that goes into effect in three days, declared that those who oppose it ought to be killed.   They then said, "Just kidding."  No.

Rationalizing cruelty isn't allowed.  You can't pretend that all things you disagree with are offensive to the point of needing to be silenced lest someone suffer emotional injury, and then hurl vile threats at the opposition and say, "Can't you take a joke?"

There is no excuse for rudeness or malice, ever on either side.

4.  How's Helen doing?  

Well, she's published. She's sold at least 18 copies via Amazon since August 20th.  I don't know about the 11 days before then, as I didn't have a counter on my book.  I also don't know about the I bookstore or the Barnes and Noble Bookstore.   I know I've sold more, but I also know now it is up to word of mouth at least until I write another book and/or Helen comes out as a book, not merely an e-book.   Yes I believe that will happen in the coming year.  Yes I'm writing Penelope.  This past week, I added 1.6 k, which while professional writers put out five times that in a week, is good progress for me.  

5.  Why's Penelope taking so long?

First, I had to shake off Helen. She's a tough one to let go of, she's dominated my brain for so long, it makes it hard to readjust, her voice is easy to me.  Penelope had to be more contemplative, more pensive in nature, and arguably, less charismatic but at the same time innately noble, fundamentally determined to be good even at great cost.   Second, the primary and secondary sources for Helen were rich and multi-faceted. The primary and secondary sources for Penelope, much more limited.  So I've had to really marinate in the readings and writings, and that takes time.  Third, and this will sound odd, the second book is harder.  Why? Because now, I have a yardstick.

6. How did we manage before now?

One thing I'm always struck by, is how much the people who came before us managed without the benefit of all we have today.  The books they wrote and read, the ability to draw upon that wealth of knowledge absent google indicated extraordinary base information and capacity to apply it.  It seems today, we write a million times a million more words, but we understand each other and the ideas of history and policy, philosophy and ethics less and less as a culture.  How can we hold the whole of the world at our fingertips and never want to leave our own personal sand boxes where we hold court?  How is it that we now have a society that shouts down anyone who disagrees?

7.  What am I reading?  Rock Bottom Blessings, The Odyssey and Writing Story.   Why am I reading three books?  Because I am disorganized, so I read whichever of the three I find when I snatch a few minutes to feed the brain.   If I can't find any of the three, I'll start reading a fourth.

7 Quick Takes and Small Successes Mushed Together

1. Yesterday's Small Successes

We got through the week.  Some weeks, that's sufficient.  To watch my friend and her family go through this impossible process, it was a portrait in courage to see them walk up the aisle, arm in arm, holding together.  The mass was beautiful. The attendance, astounding.  There is  cliché about how when you reach Heaven, you will be asked one question,  "How many did you bring?"  A packed church with people standing on the steps outside five steps deep on all three sides pouring in and pouring in and pouring in for a mass says something about the man being remembered. It's a good answer. 

2.  What Am I Doing? 

Writing a lot of drafts that get saved and forgotten, that's what.  Not everything that pops into my head is worth sharing, blogging sometimes forgets that little fact in favor of putting something on the page.  The temptation with self publishing (blogging for example) is to ignore the little voice, too much information, and to listen to the nag, Put something there!   Blogging can become like putting the obligatory vegetable on the plate that no one eats.  You don't want writing to be so unappealing.  You want these words to be like gems, sparkling, calling you to notice some cut of the world that otherwise would not be seen.  So I'm writing more on paper, less on the computer.  (Having 4 kids who need the machines does that too). 

3.  What am I working on?

I hope to write The Book of Penelope and make her into someone you care about in a deeper way than Helen demanded, and to flesh out the world of Ithaca in a way I kept Sparta and Rhodes at  a distance.   I hope to learn how to craft the scenes so you get the fuller picture of the rooms and the tables, the rocks and the trees, the meals and the air, the sky and the stupid dog that lives by the dock.  I also hope by the time you leave on the ship at the end, you know the people of Ithaca the way you know your own home, having lived in it and seen it when it was pristine and when it was a pure mess and all the points in between and have both a sense of the place's people's promise and flaws. 

4.  What am I reading?

Sarah Reinhard recommended a book in her Catholic mom non obligatory book club and so far, she's batting 1000 so I thought I'd try the latest, Rock Bottom Blessings by Karen Beattie.  It is very readable and at the same time, I can put it down and pick it up without being lost --something very necessary in a book for me with my scattered brain.  Thus far, it is just a beautiful work.

5.  What else are you up to?   I'm praying the rosary, sometimes getting through all of it, sometimes not.  I'm trying to keep the second oldest upbeat as she applies for colleges and manages all of her work, keep the sophomore communicating as she gets deeper into teenage life and drama club and homecoming and school, trying to get the 8th grader not to stress out as he applies for high school, manages the harder material of 8th grade, the spiritual work of preparing for confirmation and the hardest process of all, being 14 and growing up.  There is in my opinion, no harder age to be.   I'm also trying to keep the 11 year old jogging and working and staying organized, three things I stink at, the 9 year old from growing up too soon, the 7 year old from being frustrated with reading, the 6 year old from being embarrassed that she reads too well by comparison, the 5 year old to consider potty training and at the same time, not consider the bathroom a room to hang out in, and the 2 year old to understand just because she says "No." doesn't mean it's law.  And then there's the laundry and sleep.  Yeah...so nothing much out of the ordinary.  

6. What are you thankful for?  My friends.  All of them.  All the people I see in passing, but who smile, all the people I know from years past and in recent weeks, phone calls, families that greet us because they know one of the ten, families that we've known for years, moms who sit at a table in Gaithersburg and laugh with each other until everyone aches as though this is what we've always done, but we were just deciding to go get coffee to pass the time of a party, and it turned into something special.   Date nights. Teachers who are more than teachers and always have been. Children who do dishes unasked, and those who give hugs unsolicited.  The shy smile of a son that flowers into a full beam when pizza shows up.  The full throated singing of three children after bedtime to a song on the radio, oblivious to the hour.   Seventeen birds eating seed on the lawn and a yearling that ran away when I drove up.   Bus drivers that smile and wave when they drive by and see me with my daughter waiting and waving. Brownies.  Emails from friends that say something, and a two year old that screams with delight, "Look at the star!" and I realize, she's talking about the sun in the sky.

7.  It's the weekend.   We all need a bit of a kick off.

7 Quick Takes

1. What I am Writing.

Fiction: Penelope is much harder than Helen, because she does not have the volumes of secondary sources and much of who she is, is based on her long endurance sans husband.  Not a lot of dialogue, even less action, though as Grace Kelly said in Rear Window, fending off wolves is the hardest job a woman ever has to do.  So maybe I'm just not that into her yet.  I'm not a patient writer, it's part of why I blog. Lots of volume, little returning to reflect or rewrite what you wrote yesterday. I'm writing Penelope in part because I think the story is important, but I need to sit with her longer to hear her voice.

2.   Why I am Writing. 

I've started a project, Stories of the Holy Spirit.  As a monthly contributor to the Catholic Stand and Catholic Mom, I needed some sort of hook, some sort of corner of the Catholic blogger universe that was mine. Simcha has the corner on big family laughs paired with thoughtful commentary, followed by Jennifer Fulwiller, with six under 8 and a conversion story to boot.  I'm not a theologian so I can't argue from the intellectual vantage point of being any more informed than anyone else and felt my writing on Catholic matters lacked focus.  Firing from the hip works for blogging, but not for trying to write something of merit, so I am giving myself a focus.  My friend Sarah Reinhard writes about the Blessed Mother, she's made years of meditation with Mary the focus of her reflections and the result is, she has written a few books and become a resource for those wanting to deepen their relationship with Jesus' mother.   Who did I have a good relationship with in Heaven?  Saint Anthony and the Holy Spirit.  I decided that few blogs/writers focus on this third person of the Holy Trinity, in part because we aren't as familiar with the Divine Advocate as we are with God the Father or His Son.   We'll see how it goes.

3.  What am I reading? 

Next up on my reading stack is The Gargoyle Code.  I've had this book for over a year and am finally getting to it.  It's supposed to be a sequel of sorts to the Screwtape letters. It takes no small amount of courage to stand on the back of a theological giant like C.S. Lewis, so I'm eager to see how it turns out. 

4.  How is Parenting? 

I noticed that my children become more animated about unreal things than real ones.  While this is partly normal with respect to childhood as kids live in the world of imagination and slip easily from the real to the not real in conversation and in thought, it is partly a result of our culture creating a whole way of living that touts the unreal as real. 

Animal Crossing, Sim City, Rock Band, Facebook, twitter, tumbler,DS, Wii, all of these allow for virtual relationships that require very little but consume tremendous amounts of time, and so our children come to value what is not real --the accomplishments in the world inside the X-box, more than the world around them.  They will spend hours looking at pictures on the internet, but not go outside where the pictures were actually taken.  How do we help them to become more real, to appreciate the struggle to master the difficult things of real life when a virtual life gives so much appreciation and reward for so little effort?  Yes I turn off the machines, but it is still a matter of getting them to willingly embrace more than day to day existence.  I have to sell work, struggle, slow progress...not an easy thing.  They know the computers will return, ergo, most of the time, they can wait me out.  

5.  I am Still a Mess

Some days I just should not be allowed outside.  We were getting gasoline and I went into the store to purchase diet cokes. Getting back into the car, I proceeded to put my purse to rights.  As such, I discovered I'd left my wallet inside.  Within the same week, I also managed to send my sister two books and two presents for her children for their birthdays, only to discover I'd written down the address incorrectly.  (Sigh). 

6. What I See

There is a product we lack in this country. I know, you wouldn't think a nation that created whole new unhealthy beverages that we consume by the truckload monthly would in any way have any want that isn't marketed to within an inch of its life and sold for 9.99 plus shipping and handling.   But I see it in politics. I see it in sales, in testimonies, in responses to celebrities and their trials, in Facebook blow ups that deal with more sensitive issues like race, same sex marriage and abortion.  We are lacking the salve of society that allows for difference of opinion, the presumption of good faith, that it is the rare bird who affirmatively seeks or wishes ill for the country, regardless of political affiliation.  We no longer grant to a person unknown once his or her political stripe is known, the benefit of the doubt and charity of gracious respect for a diverging opinion from our own.   Society will not long withstand the assault on civility borne of the presumption  everyone who disagrees with me is deliberately filled with ignorance or malicious.  We have to reapply the salve of graciousness before we forget its incredible power to sustain friendships, create them, and build bridges between seemingly intractable positions of policy. 

7.  What I Hope

That we will start to remember to be more salt to the world, even as we cut back on our use of it ourselves.  Vacation ends tomorrow.  This has been a good retreat for the heart, head, body and family, if not the wallet.  Hope they hold the memories of this week, I know I do. 

Book Report

Summer reading is a luxury I eagerly anticipate every year.   Like overpriced cheap ice cream from a truck, there's just something elegantly indulgent about feasting on a book during the hot sticky months.  My children will tell you, when I read, I hear nothing but the words on the page.  If allowed, I will go for hours until the book is finished, without food, without talking, without really moving.  That world that the author created, becomes the more real world than the real world for the time of the book. I also cannot leave a book abandoned.  If I start it, I have to finish. 

I like to read women's fiction, mostly historical fiction. 

But lately, I've noticed a trend. Maybe it's the books I've picked up and it is just a coincidence, but these are books that sold very well, most are best sellers, so cumulatively, they reveal a pattern even if I have only my experience to back up my thoughts.

It is very quiet but I've begun to wonder if it is ubiquitous.

First, there is always a reluctant benevolent abortionist. It is sort of a variant on the hooker with a heart of gold, an unquestioned conceit that enjoys tacit acceptance by the publishing world, and thus the reading world.  The woman who provides the medicine is usually the narrator. She's been gradually introduced to the skills of midwifery and initiated into the secret world of women.   Being present for birth, deaths, suffering, tears, all of these great and epic moments gives her gravitas in that historical context and our own.  Hers is the school of experience, and we grant it the full measure of a Ph.D. We the reader are swept along with her, trusting her understanding of all these events as being both truthful and truth.   

Thus when girls come to her sobbing and begging to have their children destroyed, the woman who has seen so much and has a greater understanding of the risks involved in pregnancy than we the readers, agrees. (In Neferetiti, she is pained by the irony of giving what she unwillingly received --handing them the poison that was used on her) but we don't spend much time on this, she merely remarks that she's pained by the irony. We're told, not shown.We get sprinkled reasons without delving into them (an affair, an abusive father, too many at home, old, a failed romance). She's remarkably incurious, she simply dispenses the requested herb. This is treated rather as a business transaction, an emotionless thing such that when she must travel, her attendant/servant steps in to take her place and provide the herbs as needed. No big whoop.

I first encountered this archetype reading "Don't Bet on the Prince," a collection of feminist fairy tales with the story, The Green Woman.  At the time, I thought it was a modern writer imposing modern sensibilities on an older time.  Next, I notcied it was in Myst of Avalon, but it was a minor plot detail so I glossed over it. But it kept popping up, like moral kudzu.  In Nefretiti, she is both the victim and the performer of such deeds.

Now I am reading the Red Tent and while I am enjoying it, it is there.  The wives of Jacob collude to help the abused slave of their father.  Everyone agrees that the abused woman they have ignored all this time, should have her pregnancy terminated.  They give her the herbs needed to abort her child.  Everyone agrees this is the right call. But there is no discussion other than how and when, no questioning of why or should.  The doomed Ruti gets a bit of fellowship and sympathy afterwards, but ultimately, she goes back to being ignored and eventually slits her wrists when she will be left behind with her abusive master.

The second cliche is the ubiquitous ancient secret use of all sorts of birth control in the earlier world. Drinking fennel tea to prevent conception, or use these crushed herbs, which Nefretiti, the Green Woman, the wives of Jacob, the women of Mysts of Avalon who have been part of the temple, all know and use.  

This is not a demand for  a rubber stamp on all literature before I read it. I've merely noticed that the stories we read, reflect the myths of the time.  The stories we buy, reveal what those who authorize publication, believe we want to read. Ergo, the books reveal what we want to hear, the myths we want retold.  The myths being sold are stories that say we have always been as we are now, and no one need engage in any questioning of any of this...be soothed and know that all of this is normal and always was normal, it's just those uptight silly people who think we ought to think about these sort of actions and their long term ramifications.  We've always done this.  It's normal. It's not a moral question. 

But we haven't always done this.  

Historical fiction thrives on creating creative ways of linking the modern mind to the ancient world...but they are essentially other than in the researched details of what people ate and wore, for the most part, wikipedia versions of those realities.  For all our imagination, the authors are simply super imposing our own modern sensibilities on a holographic past setting. And these sensibilities emerge in the characters, whether they wear star fleet uniforms or togas or corsets. If the author does drop into the thinking of the time, it will be for the sake of creating a person who is stuck in their time, a villain or stooge or simpleton who cannot move the story along.  The person we follow must endure them, overcome or help them "evolve." It is the stuff of fiction.

In this case, there is a clear series of messages beneath the surface of woman's fiction. The herbalist woman has become the convenient catch all for every plot hole on how to get modern medicine and sensibilities into past times, with the wink and nod that this type of information of the past was lost because of superstitious religious folk simply not understanding...and actively seeking to destroy it.  Abortion is no big deal and legitimate if you want to cover up an affair, have a mean husband/boyfriend or don't want any more children.  Sex is a burden and a pain, even if it brings pleasure. Intimacy of story, intimacy of the mind is reserved for talk between women, not husband and wife. 

The added bonus in historical fiction is that the woman (thanks to being a midwife), know of scores of women that they have witnessed dying in childbirth, ergo they can use fear of death against intimacy with their husbands as a result.  They manage their men.  The gulf between the sexes is wide and deliberate, with protagonist women often surprized if the men they marry or that court them turn out NOT to be monsters.   This is in their minds, the exception of men, not the rule. Men who become acceptable husbands are beautiful, pleasurable, noble and utterly secondary in their rendering. They show up for the babies and the courtship and at the appropriate dramatic moments, but hold no actual weight.  These are not men.  These are female myths of men.  They are as airy as the fem fatales of penny dreadfuls and meaningful as sex dolls.  There is no meeting of souls and minds, only tenderness of touch and agreement on all things; Ken dolls with verility and in occasional cases, fecundity for secondary lead women.

Ultimately, these stories have me noticing the myths being perpetuated that erase the moral element of sex, of abortion, of birth control and reduce all relationships between men and women to those of power and eroticism. The new myths being crafted in our popular culture whisper perpetually, there is no real intimacy, only pleasure, no discussion, only agreement. You "Like" or you do not.  You must be an island to be free, you must be an island to be happy. You also must agree with every other island to be enlightened. Everything else is a throw away or sell out of you, your future and your life.   Appetites of the self, must be appeased. (Twilight, Eat Pray Love, 50 Shades of Grey)  Appetites of another...may be endured if they coincide with my appetites or lead to a greater thing I want (children, a diversion of the male so someone else can escape, or a deception to gain access to greater power or information which is also power).

All of which makes me wonder....if someone wrote a different sort of story, would it be dismissed as a fairy tale?  While it's harder, the beauty and realness of male female relationships and what they demand and entail would be more fun to write...and read. 

All this from summer reading....wait until we start going to summer movies.  So what am I doing today?  Finishing the Red Tent and I think there is a Dove Bar calling me.  Happy Summer!



    

Small Success Thursday

It's Thursday and that means it's the day we stop to look back at the past week's small successes; those little things that cummulatively, add up to a lot of love poured into seven days.   Before we begin, I'd like to just let you know how honored I am to host this weekly event for all of you.  It is a very heartening experience to visit your blogs and see so many people just seizing life with joy.  You are inspiring.

This week I:

1) got the school uniform situation squared away. I still need to go to the (ugh) ugly shoe store for the ugly shoes, but getting six kids outfited for returning to school is almost done.

2) Ordered new backpacks --old ones were ripped, grimy and had fought the good fight, it was time for new blood. 

3) helped set up fishing poles --husband took the boys lake fishing; they loved it!

4) Worked out on the Wii every day. 

5) Still fighting to continue Flylady.  

6) Visited with two good friends on the phone, I miss them both. 

7) Decided to engage in solidarity reading, am starting Passage to India, as my daughter is also reading it. 

Now it's your turn.  I look forward to seeing what y'all did this past week!

Quick Takes Friday

1.  Happy Mother's Day

I must call my mom sometimes two and three times a day.  Just because she's in Texas doesn't mean I don't want her imput when I'm on the mental proverbial ledge because kid one after ice cream and going to the park said something awful to kid two in the car who began crying which woke up the baby and made that ten mile distance the longest drive in the world; I also call her when they show up at the beginning of an all school mass at the back where I am with the youngest four and stay to assist with the littles so I can actually recall something of both the Gospel and the homily and I feel broken with joy from blessings.  These sort of things often and oddly enough happen usually on the same day.

Basically, I call because she's my first best friend.  

2.  What I'm Reading

It always feels good to me to have a stack to read. I go through jags where I read the way I eat chocolate, and then I go through periods where opening a book "feels" like a chore.  Right now, it is the later, but I've decided it must be done.  Ergo, The Disorganized Child and The Red Tent are sitting at my bed. We'll see if I feel like Fiction or Non Fiction tonight.  

3.  What I'm Praying

The daily rosary, but I'm behind by a decade of yesterday's.   Prayer too, sometimes is breathlessly easy.  Sometimes, it is very difficult to get through this discipline, but it's always better if I do.   It's like exercise, I'm always shocked how much better I feel if it gets done.  You'ld think by now, I'd know to just do it.

4.  What's Going On

We have a ninja night time freeze tag party coming up with up to 24  fourteen/fifteen year old girls.  Should we discover that it is raining and the outside is not available, pizza and either Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Kung Fu Panda, Spirited Away or some other Ninja but Not Really movie will be shown.  My 18 year old has decided he's going to be busy that night...anywhere else but here.

5.  Faith Report

Followers of this blog know we started treating her for ADD with medication.  So far, things are going pretty well. She made 100 on a science test --without the extensive grilling by an older sibling or me.  This is huge progress.  The material we always knew was going into her creative happy sparkly brain is being accessed.   Yeah! Yeah! and Yeah Again!  I am keeping a daily Faith log for when we go back to the doctors in a month of any changes good and bad that might indicate a need for tweaking this process.

6.  Tomatoes Tomatoes Tomatoes

My bathroom is returning to normal.  There are still 16 or so plants surrounding the tub, but the beans have been planted, as have the carrots and the first six tomatoes.  Last year we didn't get to plant much because of time constraints on my husband with work and the fact that I don't garden well, but this year, it looks good.

7.  Six impossible things before Breakfast

As a mental exercise, I came up with six things that I hope happen sometime in the next few years but would be impossible before breakfast.  It's fun for coming up with goals, and for exercising the brain in imagination.  Writing always takes me to visit my brain which often is thinking of things but not telling me. 

So here are my six seven impossible possibles before breakfast:

1) finish my book
2) start writing another book --I've outlined in my head and just have to do it.
3) go to Greece and put my feet in the Adriatic, and take a boat from there to the island of Rhodes.
4) get in shape by going for walks with my three middle children.
5) Get my Ph.D. maybe in assessment of learning disabilities, as I see that that is a critical area where we do not have enough people who a) are versed with assessment tools and b) able to use them in the educational setting in a way that is affordable to ordinary folks.  
6) See a whale in the wild.
7) Raise all ten to be happy, healthy, holy and educated.

These goals are mostly only impossible before breakfast today.   
       

Seven Quick Takes Friday

1. Where'd my Extra Hands Go?

Today, my oldest two went to high school.  The freshman started Monday, the senior started today.  I drove them to the Metro and listening to them chat away, I was glad these two were such tight friends in addition to being brother and sister.  It's going to be a fun time for them both, coming to and from school, having someone other than Mom to talk to about what is going on, and I'm also grateful because it will make the commuting time they spend much less lonely.   That being said, my two babysitters just retired for the school year.  Waaaaah.  I got very spoiled this summer.  

2.  Favorite Children's Books

Other than for learning to read, after 17 years, no one is more tired of Dr. Seus than me.  So here are the substituted books for when I get pre-readers and bed time story requests: Any of the Francis series, Bedtime, Bread and Jam or Bargains or Best Friends for Francis all by Hoban are funny and as timeless as George and Martha, those two awesome hippos who don't like split pea soup.  I'm also a great lover of Kevin Henkes and snatch up every new book he writes, with the full knowledge that I have at least two Lillys in my home.  I ususally introduce chapter books by reading aloud any three of the following: Black Beauty, Old Yeller, Little House in the Big Woods, Watership Down, A Little Princess, BFG, and of course, The Hobbit.  I have to stop myself or this will turn into just a giant list of books I've loved and love introducing to my children but you get the idea. 

Harry Potter, I've read aloud to one, the second grabbed it and read it on her own by herself, the third took longer to grapple with it the the fourth is more into spy stuff and the Percy Jackson series which I also love.  So far, it has guaranteed a love of reading in the top five and the sixth and seventh in the cue following suit. 

3. Ask and Ye Shall Receive

Yesterday, I had to go to the Open House Night at my daughter's high school.  It had been a hard long day with lots of stop and start errands and I wasn't in the right place for going out.  What I really wanted was to stay home.  To get myself straightened out, I prayed the rosary.  At the end, I realized I had two problems.  I was hungry with no easy to grab gestational diabetic good for you food available and I was late.  I issued a quick humours plea, "Saint Anthony, you'll have to find me a place to park and some food would be good too." I asked the blessed Mother to look after my baby and my children at home as I pulled onto the street to the Academy of the Holy Cross. 

There were cars lining the entire road.  I decided I'd pull all the way around, hoping someone had somewhere left and left enough space to allow a 12 passenger van to parallel park!  Then, the men managing the parking waved me up and gave me honestly, the most perfect spot ever. They had run out of space and were now allowing people to park on the curb for the drop off. I was five feet from the front doors.   Saint Anthony came through and I had to laugh.  But it wasn't finished.  I walked into the lobby and there in the main area was a table set with whole wheat grilled breads, cheese, raw vegetables and fresh cut fruit.  If I could have room service ordered safe foods to eat, the menu would have been this.  It was hard not to laugh out loud at the immediate perfection discovered. 

4.  Deals

Yesterday we had to get the Suburban serviced.  It has over 100,000 miles and so it needed some TLC.  When the mechanic called to tell me about how much the car's day at the spa would cost, he indicated we needed a fuel injection in addition to everything else, and that would cost 180 dollars.  Listening to the litany of things our old car needed, I did the logical thing, stall. 

"I'll have to talk with my husband." I said.  Then I did call my husband and we discussed the needed repairs.  "Bargain with him Sher." my husband counseled.  "You always know how to get a good deal."  he encouraged and reminded me that when we'd gone to get brakes done and he'd balked at the price for something, the mechanic had dropped the cost 10%.  How I'd bought two of our cars and done a good job.  I  called the local Jiffy lube and asked for the service cost of identical services that were considered preventative maintenance.   Calling back the place that had our car, I detailed what I wanted them to do.  "You don't want the fuel induction?" he asked.  "Well no, I can get it for 79 over at the Jiffy Lube." I explained.  "We'll do it for free."  he added quickly.  So moral of the story, do your homework, knowledge is power and don't be afraid to walk away.    

5. Today is the Day to Start the Big Push

It's a statement my dad would use whenever we kids faced a daunting task like exams, the start of school, auditions, a paper, whathaveyou.  Today, I'm taking on organizing and cleaning the basement.  If you don't hear from me come Sunday, send a search party. 

6. Dry Spell

Well, I've been writing and writing and submitting, but August is almost over and I've yet to score a publication, so the streak of 7 months straight is about to be broken.  I'll send another one out today, maybe we can squeak one in under the wire.  I hope so, but I also am oddly not anxious about this in the way that I know it would have torn me up only a few months ago.  Maybe I'm mellowing with middle age, maybe I've just got too much to stress about this, maybe I'm just learning that same lesson I'm trying to teach my children, that struggling is not the end of the world, that a bit of frustration in one's every day is good for the spirit, it teaches persistence, carefulness, thoughtfulness, grit and more.  Just the same, I'm hoping I don't have to be an example of determination in the face of persistent futility for too long. :)

7.  Why Sunday Posts have been Showing up on Monday or Saturday

Yes I know how to back or preschedule a post.  What I haven't become accustomed to is my new Sunday habit of fasting from the computer --so I'm not yet prepared for when it rolls around.  It was to help keep me from spending too much time sitting at my laptop.  But I'll try to make sure I have a fresh batch of Chocolate for Your Brain ready before I turn off the machine for 24 hours.  

The Boring Parts of the Book

With summer upon us, I am trying to remind my offspring that reading is a richer better and less likely to be disturbed by Mom means of passing the time.  Having taken two opposite children to the local Borders to garner a few new options, I had to pitch some tomes to get my 10 year old to acquiesce.  I had to set a limit on the 14 year old who would spend every last sou at a book store and finish all she bought before we got home. 

When we got home, I saw that my oldest had babysat and thus while all were accounted for, dinner loomed and dishes from lunch still needed doing.  I began my evening routine only to be interrupted by the call to change a diaper, settle a fight, plunge a toilet and reset the television code so they could watch Arthur.  Back to dinner, I received two requests to opt out and eat cereal instead and a reminder that I needed to make 24 muffins for the next day for one kid's breakfast party at her class.   I realized that my life was largely spent managing interruptions and plodding about the daily tasks that must be done to make any day run sooth.  I was the filler in between the action points of school or a game or test or birthday.  I was as my son called it, "the boring part of the book." when no actual climatic action is taking place but which get you to the big chapters.

You can't ascribe that sort of a comment to your life without pausing to wonder 1) should I be happy to manage being the seamless strand that allows everything to hold together? And if I'm not, 2) was the fact that I chaffed personally at being only the mortar and not the brick, only the page and not the words or only the words and not the action a sign of pride that was healthy or sinful?  and 3) What if I wanted to pop off the page too?  

The rest of the day, when there was the crazy tripple run where I had to drop child one off at her playoff game then return for the next child to get her to her class then double back to the first field to get the first child to then return for the second and all within a two hour span while putting back together a third child who was having a hard day, I thought I may not know how to sew but this motion I'm doing is stitching.  When the daughter who had been tucked in by her brother with a story and a sippy cup and prayers came down demanding to be put back to bed by me, again it was stitching.  In and out, up and down, putting into their lives the thread that held things together even if I felt frayed like I was falling apart.

My two oldest came to spend a few minutes visiting and they rubbed my shoulders in a conga line (it's part of the mandatory make Mom have fun rule of the house), and we were again, going in and out, back and forth and I could see the boring parts of the book that held it together in that moment.  And while I know I'll still want to star and still want to soar, I also know, all those boring parts of the book get you to the good parts and you won't appreciate the good parts if you skim over the rest.   So I've dusted off a few books for summer and I'm hoping this year, I can plow through them, because this time, I'll understand more how important the boring parts are to the whole story.

Serial Readers

One of my parenting quests is to raise all nine children to absolutely love books.

I've worked hard to expose each of my kids to classic literature, though I have succumb over the years to such questionable fare as Captain Underpants. "At least he's reading." I mumble over and over to myself in a Yoga like mantra.

The big kids know that if they're reading, I won't ask them to clean, so holding a book is akin to a "Get out of Jail Free" card. Except I do draw the line when kids engage in re-runs as a tactic. "If you know how it ends, you can put the thing down and come make your bed."

But with every success in parenting, there is a downside. Every morning, my newly five year old son comes down for breakfast and asks to "look at the box." as he eats his cereal. It doesn't matter if it's Cracklin’ Oat Bran or Frankenberry Blue, he sits transfixed by the back of the cereal box and heaven help the child that wishes to either look over his shoulder or actually pour a serving for his or herself.

Being children, there are those who KNOW this is his habit and recognize that the fastest way to enjoy and annoy is to swipe the cereal so that they can read the back with the claim, "You can't read" as an excuse. Mom gets irritated when breakfast makes the five year old cry. And when Mom gets irritated, mom plots.

Now I have been after my older kids to read their assigned books, to which the kids have responded, "Feh. It's summer." But we live in a modern age, and Mommy is armed with a copying machine and the assigned reading materials.

So tomorrow when kid one sits down to Cherrio's, he's going to find the first page of "Cricket in Times Square" taped to the back for his viewing pleasure, while earnest eaters of Strawberry Mini-Wheats will enjoy a passage from "The Cay" or "The Witch from Blackbird Pond." Consumers of Fruit Loops shall feast upon the words of E.B. White.

That's not counting the snip from Hemmingway's Farewell to Arms I posted on the back of the milk! And I'll keep a book handy for the five year old so he too can enjoy reading, and tape it to the back of my Special K.

I can't wait for the first meal of the morning.

Now, my next problem is to somehow post algebra problems on the sandwiches at lunch. If Johnny has ten potato chips and Rita has three...

Dotted Quarter Notes

Anyone who has made it through a few years of music, has discovered the challenge of dotted quarter notes. For me, they were a stopping point. I could play the piece by ear, but not from reading. The pause needed in the music was something I never quite could master baring already knowing the tune. The problem with that technique is that everyone hearing the music also knows how it is supposed to sound, and sits waiting for the next notes which may or may not come, depending upon how refined my reading skills are that day. I don't play enough to get requests, but I would like to be able to perform without the 2 minute commercial brakes in between sections I know and don't know.

"Clare de Lune" is a prime example. Salt and peppered with dotted quarter notes in addition to being loaded with sharps, flats and notes that were sharp but are then neutral or made flat, and vice versa; it remains something I have yet to master.

Last week, there was an all school mass with first graders doing all the readings. Listening to first graders navigate the Old and New Testament and the Psalms, there were a lot of pregnant pauses where the laity was anticipating the next word with the same sort of anxiety I feel as my fingers search for the right white or black keys to strike.

Watching as people strained to understand the magnified voices of six year olds over the mike and silently willed the children to successfully get through their petitions or pieces, I had to think, first graders should always be given the readings. Never have I seen adults at such rapt attention. Nothing like a jolt of fear to make sure everyone is alert.

Why Resolutions Don't Work in 2009

It's 2009. I didn't make a resolution. But then I haven't bought a converter box yet either. Maybe it's the times. Maybe it's emotional and intellectual and physical sloth but resolutions these days seem very fossil fuel. Much of what we seek to change or improve has been either rendered unnecessary or made mandatory, such that it isn't so much a resolution involing personsal responsibility as an obligation we didn't know we signed on to before getting the New Year's To-do list.

10) Resolving to be fiscally responsible. In this day and age, with Congress doling out the dough to every institution that knocks on the door, it would be the height of folly to practice frugality in light of the free largesss the government wishes to pass out to the needy massive corporations. Saving money in 2009 is the equivalent of passing up 20 Trillion sitting on the street waiting to be picked up. You could do it but in heaven's name why?

9)Losing weight. Southbeach, Adkins, Tae Bo, Lippo, Gastro, Phen phen, Jenny Craig, Weight watchers, even Oprah couldn't manage it and she's got personal chefs cooking for her. If millionare president pickers can't beat the bulge, what chance do the rest of us have against Krispy Kremes, french fries and all things chocolate. Let's just call Congress, ask them to rewrite the Body Mass Indexes/average weights to incorporate our greater girth and change the standard deviation such that 75% is within the 3/4th range.

8) Becoming better educated. Between Google and Wikipedia, there is so much information and misinformation, everyone can become an instant expert or idiot on virtually anything, just ask Caroline Kennedy, Al Franklen, Blago, Burris, the list goes on. Today, all you need is a staff and and a blackberry and you need never crack a textbook again. So kids, cram for the tests and forget all the rest.

7) Being Counter-cultural. What would this mean? What would it look like? Reading a newspaper? Using incandescent bulbs? The Amish?

6) Volunteering. With the economy going down the drain, this formerly noble impulse to serve without pay is rapidly become the norm of the actual capitalistic business model. We Americans need to work more and get paid less. It's more "patriotic." Break out the fireworks and the cheap hotdogs and pay your taxes. Whee.

5) Green living. Perusing all the "simple everyday tips" for being more Earth friendly offered in this week's paper alone, I should give up all paper products, coffee, heat, electricity, fruits not in season, one's car, use of planes, computers, printers, baths, tin foil, milk, beef, fish, chicken, processed sugar, leather products, bottled water, appliances and beauty products. I've seen this some place before...oh yeah, Europe.

4) Correcting/improving spelling, writing and grammar. These days, who would notice?

3) Becoming famous. With Youtube, Facebook, blogging, call-ins to every television show and reality television shows popping up faster than kudzu alongside the highways, this isn't so much a goal of any year, as it is something one must actively seek to avoid.

2) Learning all the things that are on the 2009/2008 In/Out list. It's simple. If you knew what they were, and what they are, you're in. If you didn't, you're out. If you have to ask...(Note, saw the list, was able to identify 6 of the in, 10 of the out, of 100).

1) Having more actual fun. I'm not sure this is still allowed by federal law.

On a personal note: Planning to lose weight, save money and stay organized while learning to play the drums on the Wii, master french, finish my book, keep my house neat, get published 52 times and learn three pieces on the piano, read 12 actual books and have more fun daily, pray the rosary and maintain my Saint Bridgette's discipline. There, I made resolutions. Now That's Counter-cultural.

Happy New Year!

The Surest Sign there are No More Weeks of Winter

There is one bonifide signal that Spring has set into motion in earnest.

Last minute school projects.

Every parent has had that dreaded moment when they struggle between teaching responsibility for time management and the urge to become a Superhero and pull an all nighter with the child in question to ensure a decent grade. Most of the time, we wind up circling the wagons and helping the delinquent student to finish their work before 1 am, but not without occasionally morphing into the adult from the nether regions...if YOU EVER...I am NOT DOING THIS AGAIN...

The other day, I got a text message. "Need three fold before weekend!"

I ransacked my brain in the desperate hopes of having at some point purchased such an item that went unused. It would have helped if I knew what a threefold was. I text messaged back but before I got six taps in, I grew irritated and just phoned.

“Can’t talk. Turning off phone now.” was the response from my beloved teen.

Now, I couldn’t even text message. I knew a fishing expedition to the local office supply store was imminent.

We had just loaded up in the car from my second son’s baseball practice. It was 6:30. Dinner had yet to be served, showers and bed routines were being thrown out the window, and even microwave pot pies were looking like a time consuming chore.

Twelve year old to the rescue! She knew what a tri-fold was, I thought it was either a hat or a way to properly stow a flag. I had my atm machine card at the ready. We would go to the bank and then the art store. We could do this seamlessly if I booked.

Alas, the errand gods were not with us.

The ATM refused to cooperate. The drive thru had closed thirty minutes before we arrived. We also needed gas. Having experienced the engine light read “Low” before and actually run out, I wasn’t taking any chances, so we tanked up before proceeding with the poster hunt. It was now 7:24.

The art store was closed, but I knew of an office store still open, so I gambled, scrounging through my purse and the pockets of the car. Collectively, we found change amounting to$3.57. I did have to promise to pay the two toddlers back their respective 64 and 12 cents. It was 7:37 pm. They’d get showers the next day. For bed time stories, I handed a book from my satchel to my ten year old and instructed her “READ...aloud…expressively,” although I had to conceed, "Writing Query Letters that Rock!" wasn't my first choice for my children's night time supplimental literacy program. She abandoned it in favor of a discarded Avenger's comicbook. I was in no position to argue.

I drove at a not entirely state approved rate and we arrived at five minutes to eight. The twelve year old went in, I looked at the clock. We’d not get to dinner before 9 o’clock if I cooked.

I phoned the local roasted chicken establishment and placed an order for the family feast for four plus a few extra sides.

My daughter returned triumphant, carrying a poster board as large as herself. She had 17 cents left, so I paid back the 12 cents and listened to the other toddler howl at not receiving prompt reimbursement. For a kid who can't add or count past 15, he knew getting a nickle was getting stiffed. I offered to pay interest. He wasn’t moved. I handed him a credit card, but discovered he was a cash only kind of guy until his sister offered him a turn on the game boy.

We drove to the chicken store, but the cash problem still loomed. Five cents was insufficient to buy the family meal order I had placed, and I wasn't even sure my son would lend me back the five cents!

I took out the toddler rejected credit card and hoped my daughter could go two for two. In she marched, and returned. The card had expired one day prior. Maybe that’s why my son refused it.

I handed over another and waited. Driving in circles in the parking lot, hoping the restaurant would take it, hoping they would let her sign for it and go, the phone rang, but I was too stressed and distracted to deal with it. We saw my daughter waving with her hands full. I drove up, joyfully anticipating an end of the struggle.

Her sister went in to help bring back the bounty.

Driving home, while congratulating ourselves on a successful mission, I planned out bed time routine in my head. Then I got another text message.

“I tried to phone you. Project due Monday moved to next week.”

Five Questions...Maybe Six...

I keep thinking of doing a 24 hours in my day type entry in this blog but every time I’ve considered the possibility, I’ve quite honestly lost my nerve. The trick to comedy is never to reveal everything, always have a joke in spare. I admit, my reserve of jokes have as of late, run a bit thin. SAHM’s, writers, whatever you may be, you can’t pour out if nothing is being poured in. So I’ve embarked on a quest to replenish my stories and my spirit to allow this blog to continue.

One should also recognize that good comedy is modeled out of pain and suffering. I haven’t been suffering as of late enough for my art apparently. Though I admit I thought when toddler 1 and toddler II took out the giant sized rewards bag of M&m’s for pottying and dumped them on the hard wood floors and went stomping, I thought I just might be feeling pain then.

When my daughter in kindergarten came home with a report card that said she didn’t know her numbers up to 20, we began doing drills. For some reason, the number fifteen appears to be something of a mental stumbling block for her. Even saying fifteen fifteen times in a row did not institute recall. Tucking her in at the end of the day, she apologized to me for not remembering the number. I said, “Which number?” She said, “I don’t know.”

There are days when treading water is all one can do, and today was one of those days. My son was caught up in a book and missed his bus stop by several miles. He called to be rescued. I had just unloaded the car.

The toddlers found a squirt bottle of body wash and sprayed the bathroom shower and tub while I was feeding the baby. I had just cleaned the bathroom.

They then played car with the laundry baskets. This meant dumping the contents of the laundry baskets. I had just folded the laundry.

That primal scream you sensed around noon today, it was me.

When things get this rough, all I have left that I can do is pray. God gets a lot of “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think so. No.” I never win these arguments with the Almighty.

Then my daughter got in the car and talked about how her social studies teacher said it cost $250,000.00 to raise a kid from birth to age 21. I point out that technically, I’m off the hook three years earlier than that as she’s legally an adult at 18. I figured that probably saves me a minimum the area of $160,000.00. She counters that she hasn’t cost that much so far, and asks where’s the 90K to date?

I told her I’m a below average kind of parent.

The day to day momwork sometimes becomes so oppressive sometimes that I can forget to have fun. So I resolved earlier this year to have each of my kids ask a question when they came home from school to help: “Did you read? Did you write? Did you exercise? Did you play the piano? Did you pray? Did you play?”

Usually, on a good day, I managed to execute a yes for three of these questions.
And so the day goes on and I help with homework, I take kids to baseball, I bring dinner to the practice so we can eat. We sit and wait for the day to end. Tucking in each of my overwhelming blessings, my son asks me if I played today. Yes I did. I played pool and shot a good round, and when my daughter was doing push-ups at basketball practice, I showed her up by matching her push up for push up, with better form.

As such, I’m going to add the question, "Did you show off?"

And see how many days I can go with the answer being “Yes.”

for more modest humor, and some that shows off better, try www.humor-blogs.com!