It's Easter -- Bah Humbug.

First, there was drama about the ties.

Then a lack of dress shoes.

But I have a memory of all 5 boys and their daddy in matching outfits just like this one.

And I have a shot of Schmoopie shaking his Easter M&M's.

Phew!

Good Friday

Our Triduum Shrine:  A candle for Holy Thursday, when Christ first gave us himself as the Paschal Lamb on Passover -- the night he instituted the Holy Eucharist.  Another candle for Good Friday, the day we remember His Passion.  And then another for Easter, His Resurrection.

We have a tomb made of a lightbulb box covered with sod.  A decent-sized stone couldn't be found, so we used a sweet potato.

Blessed Triduum.

Praying the Stations With My Kids

Some people think its gory or that they're too young,
but I see it in their eyes,
they sense the transcendence.

I wasn't raised in a Christian tradition that recognized the Liturgical year,
except on Christmas Day and then again on Easter Day.
The two popped up suddenly.  I always felt so unprepared.
And then they were gone, leaving behind only messes of wrapping paper
and emptied plastic eggs.

The year my husband began his sojourn into the traditional Church,
Lent prepared me for Easter in a way I hadn't expected.
I was only an observer then.
And I must say, the Season has truly grown on me.
I seem to "get it" a little more each year.

We'll be praying the stations tonight at our local parish because
"You cannot have a feast without a fast."

And you cannot have the the Resurrection without the Cross.

Took a Walk on Tuesday

And tried to fall into the stream.

Oh My Ezra -- I am Equally Enamored and Exhausted by You

My Baby, My Love.

Goop

Dear Gwyneth,

In regard to the Conscientious Uncoupling, I feel badly for you.  I really do.  That's why I'm writing.  Because, you see, it just won't work.

I know it's mostly none of my business.  I say "mostly" because we all certainly affect one another. That's why we have road signs with speed limits.  That's why so many people juice kale and flax seeds after reading about it in your newsletter.

I don't know the details of your separation, but I'm sure they're painful.  I'm sure you're suffering.  For this, I'm truly sorry.  You and your family are in my prayers.

Many people think my religion, old school Catholicism, is cruel for not allowing divorce.  However, I argue that it's truly kind.  Because, you see, divorce doesn't exist.  Neither does Conscientious Uncoupling.

Look around.  Look at all the couples who made vows, babies and then later signed a paper to dissolve it all.  Did it work?  No. Lives don't unwind once they're one, and we're reminded of it every birthday, graduation, holiday, funeral and wedding.  Even doctor's appointments, sporting events and stupid nonsensical non-events like buying a first dollhouse or losing a tooth catch the collateral crap of parents who won't work it out.

For generations.

If there's abuse or infidelity of any kind, please separate.  It's your duty.

If you just can't stop fighting, again, separate even for years if you must.

But please don't think signing a paper will uncouple you, or free you to recouple with someone else, conscientiously or not.

It will only breed absurdity, step-relationships (that really suck almost all of the time) and more pain.

Instead of divorce, I kindly suggest you do three things.

First, pray more.  

Second, survey your husband.  Focus on what he is.  And then totally ignore what he is not -- easier said than done, I know.  I'm not saying you ignore abuse or infidelity, but I already covered that.  Accept the man at face value.   Realize that it is only God's grace working through you that will make your husband into whom he's supposed to be (one day).  And vice versa.

Third: Be kind(er).  If you're at all normal, you save your very worst self for your spouse.  So, try not to do that.  Instead, be kind.  If you're already doing that, be kinder.

Gwyneth, I doubt you'll ever read any of this.  But if you or another wife does, please take these thoughts I've gathered in the trenches of my own marriage as the humble offerings of a servant in prayer.        

With Warmth, Concern, Care and Admiration,

Sarah    

Barefoot Boys on the Deck

Welcome Spring!  

So long shoes!

1! 1! 1!

1!  1!  1!

Yup, this blue-eyed-bandit has breathed fresh air for 365 days.

Strange to think that a year ago today I hardly knew him.

I remember laying in the hospital bed, 

in love with a little swirl of fuzz on his forehead.

I traced it again and again with my finger.

I searched for it today to find it gone, 

hidden behind a thatch of blonde, big boy locks.

Because time marches on.

Oh my Schmoopie, get that piece of coal out of your mouth!  

[Here in coal country, we utilize the local heat source.  

And although we swifter and sweep, 

Ezra seems to always find a piece on which to teeth.

Blech, I know.  But perhaps it's the source of his iron-rich blood!]   

She Didn't Remember a Thing Except ...

We finally visited our elderly Godmother who has dementia.
She asked my name every other minute.
She couldn't recall relatives when I showed her pictures.

But she remembered my oldest son, her Godchild with a zesty,

"That's Haven!"

And, oh, that was awesome.

"A Chicken With a Flaming Toot"

This birthday boy turns 6 tomorrow.

He shoved this Lego / Silly Putty creation in my face before I had my first sip of coffee.

"A Chicken With a Flaming Toot!"

Further commentary would only detract from its brilliance.

Elsie Rita: 100 Year's Old & Holding Down Two Jobs!

My husband met this amazing woman today.

She offered him a mint.

Elsie Rita was 3 months old when the above newspaper was printed in 1914.  It announced the start of the first World War.

The same woman is working at the high school cafeteria down the road!  She's probably serving a heaping plate of shepherd's pie right now!

"I can't sit still," she said.

And she shouldn't.

Today, she's my inspiration!

*I would have preferred to share a photo of her, but I couldn't find one.  So watch the above video & enjoy!

Goodnight Moon

Standing in a checkout aisle tonight, I learned that Margaret Wise Brown, author of Goodnight Moon and so many other amazing children's stories died at the young age of 42 from a ruptured appendix.

So sad.

Good night nobody, goodnight mush.

Creation, Evolution, Peanut Butter and Jam

We were at the Natural History Museum when my husband asked, "Who first came up with the term 'The Big Bang'?"

Haven replied, " The Catholic Priest, Geroges Lemaitre."

I guess I've been too busy changing diapers.  I guess my kid's flipping brilliant.

I had some reading to catch up on.  Perhaps, you do too.

Join me.

Ezra never received a pregnancy or a birth announcement, so here's an announcement to his perfect preciousness.  He's as homogenized, white & male as all the rest of them, but to me he's the most beautiful baby in the world.   Here's Ezra singing with my dad.

Henry wished the party was for him.

A photo of a photo blanket.

Speaking of Legos.  This week's assignment was to fill a baggy with 30 pieces you'd like to build with ...  then ... pass it to the fella on your left.  Our buddy Josiah's spaceship won the mini Kit-Kat bar.  

"Did you know 'Lego' is short for 'LEg GOdt,' or 'Play Well' in Danish?  It also means 'I put together' in Latin," Haven said as he tripped over the baby gate.

I made him show me the book where he read that.   And sure enough ...

Winter Games

So these won't be forgotten:  

1.  Suitcase:  Put your brother in a suitcase, zip it shut.  Wheel it around while the other brothers kick it.

2.  Chicken Poop:  Push all the covers on your mother's bed on the floor, jump on them and yell "chicken poop!"

3.  Evie:  Take apart the humidifier.  Carry around the blue lid.  Call "her" Evie and pet her.  Dress up like a ninja and a cowboy.  Draw maps, carry swords.  The mission is noble.  Save Evie.

Yes, this winter is growing long.  So long that I've resurrected my blog.  My apologies ahead of time.