We Interrupt the Internet....

If there's one thing the Internet with all it's connections to everything we should eat, shouldn't miss, must have read, should never do, should always do, should teach our kids, and which might change our lives, does, it's make whatever you are doing, whatever you have done, and even what you hope to do, feel inadequate.

You remember the kid in high school in the Latin class who would argue with the teacher about the proper tense translation and cite three sources for his opinion over that of the teacher's?  Yeah. Remember that annoying person who wanted to show everyone else how stupid they were by comparison?  That's the Internet with it's ever quirky Pinterest pins lined up in your inbox to show you how whatever you're making for your kid's 4th birthday, is lame, no matter how well intentioned.

You eat your pizza wrong.  You diet wrong. You read the wrong books, watched the wrong movies, and failed to exercise the right muscles to insure you will stay healthy.  You don't save money the way the experts do.  You don't eat kale fifteen times a day.  You don't sleep properly.  You are talking to your cat wrong.  Disney gets its princesses wrong, and if you enjoyed the movie, you're cooperating with the creation of a whole new generation of oppressed people.   It's one giant scold based on what?   Of all things, math.   Who wants their tastes, preferences and opinions shaped by an equation with no answer save you're not right?

If you aren't being nagged into feeling inadequate, you're being cajoled for failing to type "Amen" to prove you love someone, to copy and paste to prove you're a friend, and told you're an ENJP instead of a ISPF or whatever because you picked the beach house instead of the tranquil field.   Buzzfeeds quizzes alone will tell you, whatever you thought you were, the algorithms say different.  

Maybe it's the result of being cooped up inside for 5 days straight with three feet of white stuff to shovel.  I've cooked food, gone outside, played cards and we've made tunnels.  But even as we go about this business of living, the radio gives us a reminder of top ten things we shouldn't do in the snow, (we did about seven of them).

So I went outside, where the internet cannot find me, I didn't bundle up properly and threw a snowball at the sky and shaped a dragon in the snow. We sledded.  They threw snowballs.  We didn't take any pictures of it on my phone. The only sound outside was the occasional snow blower, and the thawing of snow from our roof.  The outside real world is saying, be still, enjoy this quiet time with your kids.  And we did.  When we got too cold and wet to stay out, I brought them back in, brewed up some microwave popcorn and some curled up to watch a movie.  Others settled into books.  The youngest took a bath.  The world felt more real, between the baths and the books and the popcorn.  

There's probably some link that says why we should have air popped the stuff but I'm not going to look for it.

Meanwhile...Over in Real Life

I didn't post on Sunday or Friday for that matter.  In part, because I have failed as a modern parent.

I own an i-phone and because I can't remember the password for the apple Id, I cannot post pictures to facebook to prove 1) I have an i-phone and 2) we are doing i-phone worthy activities that should garner likes and approval from countless strangers, acquaintances and facebook friends, not to mention actual family who only go on Facebook to find out what we're up to these days.  

This matters because this past Thursday, we held a birthday party for Rita and a 1/2 birthday for Regina.  She turned 8, but during Easter so...she got a party in October.  We went to Rockin' Jump and they had a blast.  Paul loved the trampoline basketball so much, he didn't stay in the party room for cake.  For Cake!  This is the kid also known as Cakebeard whenever a cake is served.  But being able to jump and dunk held greater allure.  

Friday, we didn't do much, but no one required much. There were presents to open, the day off for some, and a three day weekend to enjoy.

Saturday, we did track, cross country, and again, no photos.  I assure you, it was cool to watch them running.  

Sunday.  We went to mass and then the Maryland Renaissance Festival.  Faith shot arrows.  John and Regina got swords. Anna picked out a purple princess hat.  Paul and Rita and I rode an elephant.

There are cool photos on my phone.   I tried guessing my password, and now I'm locked out of my i-phone.   I have concluded, I am not smart enough to own a smart phone.  

Photo of Anna in her costume, from my daughter who knows what she's doing.  

Disconnect

Last week, I was on vacation.

In Florida, I sat and had my hair done and didn't think about how much time it was taking.

I read books by the pool.  We drank mohitos and saw the sun set every night. We walked on the beach and swam in the ocean. We collected shells and I ate fish almost every meal except breakfast.  There was live music everywhere, bongo drums and salsa dancing. I did turn down going to the ritzy night club that played until 5 in favor of sleep but got up early to walk in the sand and admire the tall clear green and ice white waves. In one store, I tried on a red dress but bought new sneakers. 

Today...is tax day.  The septic man came at 7.  I found four loads of laundry in the basement and have to pick up suits, get a present, refill a prescription and tonight is Daisy Scouts.  We will have ham and pasta for dinner with vegetables.  I ate cereal and changed diapers. 

But to keep the rare air of vacation alive just a little longer, I'm wearing my diamond earings and had the last of the Easter chocolate.

Easter Jelly Bean Opera

I have one son who specializes in pestering.  If he catches even a whiff of an idea that something he does irritates one of his brothers or sisters, he cranks up the volume to achieve maximum teasing effect.  With nine siblings, the hunting ground for prey is always plentiful.   He specializes however, in coming up with phrases or songs and activities that get under the goat of a singular person.  

The victim for Easter's project was his older sister. Given her size and height advantage, he'd have to craft something innocent enough to get past Mom censors, create a chorus of minions in the youngers and bypass his other older sister and one older brother in the process; a bank shot to the right corner pocket.  Tricky but doable. 

Mom had requested he locate two more baskets for egg hunts.  He improvised and brought  back two large straw sombreros, the kind given out at Chevy's for birthdays.   Tickled with his own inventiveness, he began singing about it.  "SOMBRER-E-O~!  SOME-BRER-EEEE-OOOOH! SOME-BRER-OH!" 

I initially thought his song rather charming and amusing.  His older sister however, found it a nusiance.  Big Mistake.  Smelling her teen frustration, he upped the ante and the volume.  "SUM BRER EEEE OH! SUM BRER-O SUM BRERE O SUM BRER O!"  Somehow West Side Story's "Maria" had morphed into spanish yodeling. When I gave him the eye brow "Stop bothering your sister." he broke out his trumpet and played the same notes over and over again.   She was furious.   "Make HIM STOP!" she ordered me.  I asked him to put his instrument away but it was too late.  An earworm had been created and enthusiastically embraced by the toddler set who now began their Von Trapp imitation of their brother's new Easter anthem.   A literal chorus of toddlers jacked up on Easter candy were marching about singing  "SOMEBRERO SOMEBRERO SOME BRERRRRRR OHHHHHH!"  Her agony was as equisite as his grin of victory.

Mission accomplished, he now morphed into seemingly innocent boy by doing the breakfast dishes.  But she was not fooled.  "MOM!" she glared at him for creating this cacophony.   "He's doing the dishes. Put on Dora, that should stop the rest of them." I suggested.  "What?" he asked with mock ignorance.  "I was only singing Sombrero...SomeBrerO, SOME BRER O!" I took away the inspirational hats and substituted real Easter baskets.  Personally, I hadn't minded the noise, it was happy and silly and he was doing the dishes.  (I value free chores done without nagging almost as much as true family peace). 

But it's Easter, and the only heads I want bitten off are chocolate ones.

Request for Prayer

This blog is many things; sometimes political, sometimes silly, sometimes serious.  Today, it is urgent. 

A friend of mine has a daughter.  She is my daughter's first and to this date, still best friend despite having moved to Texas.  Zoe has a rare condition that is called Ondine's Curse; her autonomic functions stop if she loses consciousness.  Thus, to make it to the age of 10 alive, she's had to be put on a respirator every night, has pacers and has had more tests and hospital stays than can possibly be counted. 
Right now, she's having a bad spell of days and nights, where she is on and off oxygen and the machines are a companion that is not leaving.  People with this condition sometimes have spells where it is better or worse as they age and develop and the demands on their bodies change. This is a type of growing pain that none of us ever hope to experience. There simply isn't enough known about this condition because so few have it and survival is so precarious.  

Whenever I feel the least bit overwhelmed by my situation of too much, I think of my friend and her family and how I have the odd luxury of not having to be hyper-vigilant. Maybe I should be, but I have the taken for granted by most of us, gift of not being on red alert all the time.

My friend (Zoe's mother), bears this burden with tremendous luminous grace and humor and her faith is Christian steel. She surrenders her daughter to the trust of God at the foot of the cross every night, and every car ride and every time she lets her go out into the world. Even more impressive, she does let her daughter go out and seize life. Zoe has done cheer leading and gymnastics and gone to school and has a vivid imagination and wicked sense of humor; she reminds me of her mother. (Zoe would carpe diem regardless as she is a zealous creature; part of why my daughter loves her so). 

Her family does not hide this daughter under a bushel basket, nor do they allow it to color her faith or her temperament with the martyrdom of suffering; the condition simply is.   As her mother said once, "How could I do less?"  Well, I don't know of any who could do more and still keep themselves so grounded, so present, so lively and so laugh and light filled.  

When I was at the hospital with Paul for his open heart surgery, Zoe's mom made a trek to DC to see me within the first week, bringing Starbucks hot chocolate.  She had not yet seen my son.  Looking at him in the isolette as she handed me my drink, she studied him for a few moments and said, "Wow, he's Down Syndrome Hot."  I spewed cocoa everywhere --it was the first time I'd laughed hard since I'd been at the hospital staring down the prospects of Paul's procedure.  It was a healing moment for me.  

So I'm asking everyone to pray for Zoe and her family; to pray that they can go back to simply preparing for Christmas, that this bout of having difficulty maintaining blood oxygen levels and continuing to simply breathe and exist passes.   Pray for Zoe to spend Christmas at home with her family and for the extraordinary gift for their family of ordinary days and peaceful silent breath filled nights.

Bilocation, Double Vision and Focus

When my daughter went to the ER last week, I admit the biggies were right there in front of me.  Staring down the maw of possibilities like Brain Tumors, Cancer, Stroke, it was the longest hour of my life waiting for them to get a cat scan done and read.   The Agony of the Garden struck home as I sat there with my daughter sleeping, waiting for news, not wanting certain news and feeling alone.  The wolves of the past few hours of scrambling were circling....see....see...you are alone.  Your husband is in New York.  No one can get to you easily and this is hard in part because you have so many.   I could feel the yips and nips...as if everything we'd done to parent them had somehow failed in this hour, and that I was being indited.   It was an unpleasant whisper from a liar who thrills at despair.   We were here because she had double vision and I wished for the gift of bilocation so I could be both home and at the hospital.  Everywhere I felt inadequate.  Everywhere, I felt divided from everything. 


When they mentioned they would need to take some spinal fluid, my heart ached.  Having held one child for a spinal tap and refused to do it for another, I gritted my teeth for what I anticipated I would have to do when they ushered me out.  The doctors had pulled the curtain to do a lumbar puncture. The nurse walked me back out to the waiting area with the permanent Disney TV and the aquarium of fish.  Despite not wanting to actually hold her through the procedure, I didn't want to be away.  I lasted three minutes tops.  Maybe I wouldn't be holding her when they did this but I'd be damned if I was just going to hang and sip diet coke. 

I found my way back to the pediatric ER and parked myself outside her room.  She didn't know I was there but I knew.   And I heard my daughter's voice.  She was singing, church songs.   Then she started describing each of her brothers and sisters in detail and it was a reassurance to me, this long list of people was meaningful to HER  as a way of coping with the unknown and frightening.   "Rita is really smart.  She plays rock band and colors with me and we play barbie."...."Paul is cute.  He likes to pull everything down from the book shelves and that's a pain but he loves music and will play with cars and blocks and drums for hours."   "Will is brave..." she rattled off echoes of my own heart's knowledge of each of them.  Here she was enduring pain and yet bringing comfort, it was the essence of this child; the first to go get band-ades, the first to give a comforting hug, unknowingly giving her own mother courage.

When I finally got to go back in the room, she looked at me, "There are still two of you." she said.  I smiled.  "And we both love you."

We still don't know why she sees double, but the opthamologist gave her a patch for school to wear over one eye --switch from time to time, and it helps her to focus and get her homework done in 1/3 the time it normally takes.  We will be going to a specialist tomorrow to address this from a clinical perspective, but at least some of the puzzle that is my daughter has been revealed by this journey.  She always seems a bit lost in space and time, if she's seeing double, this is in fact a reality for her.  She is always bouncing, touching, tapping, talking and I realized, she is orienting herself to the world, to the real physical world through sound and touch.   With the patch, she is stiller, quieter, but still the sparkly sweet self we love...so hopefully tomorrow, we will have a name for this, but in the meantime, we have a strategy.  

Finally, walking up to Communion Sunday, I couldn't escape the wonderful words a friend forwarded to me after all this craziness started: FAITH is Daring the Soul to go Beyond what the eyes can see.  

And I could feel that I was being asked to walk down a path with her I did not know and to trust; and that this was the case with Paul and his Down Syndrome, and with my oldest and his search for a college, and with my daughter who just started high school, and with my father and his Alzheimer's, and with so many situations that it felt overwhelming and yet the path seemed luminous; obvious and reassuring. Walk up to receive.

7 Quick Takes Friday

1) Middle daughter insisted on being Annabeth from the Lightning Thief series by Rick Ridoran. Fearful she would not be recognized, I kept suggesting alternatives. She came home discouraged, "No one knew who I was." I pointed out the movie would come out in February and that next year, they would. She shook her head, "Next year, I'm going to get real creative." I didn't say "I told you so." so I'm basking in that silent glory of a good parenting moment here. Excuse the victory dance.

2) Oldest son stressed about Halloween and wanting a costume. Rather than point out that he's a bit old for that kind of thing, we worked together to pick one that he probably wouldn't have picked but will insulate him from being bothered at school as a result. Protecting our children without them knowing they're being protected is hard work.

3) Got four kids hair cuts this week. Four of the others will get their hair done next. Then we'll go for broke and get one scheduled for me.

4) Said the Rosary 4 days out of 5 --not finished with today's yet. Tip: do ten in the car going to...and ten coming from.

5) Made muffins for oldest daughter's class party.

6) Two days this week, I exercised. Oh dear. Now I'm going to have to make it three.

7) Made a new friend, worked on strengthening older relationships.