Rutabaga Dreams

What is is with adult only weddings? Especially adult only weddings at 4:30 in the afternoon at a not particularly hoity-toity location? I thought the wording on the invitation was particularly odd too - “Please respect this is an Adult Only event”. Does that sound like it was translated from a foreign language to you too? It isn’t that I think children should be welcome absolutely everywhere, but a wedding seems like it should be a celebration with friends and family to mark the beginning of a new family. And if you don’t invite people’s families, what exactly are you doing?

Oh well, they have every right to come up with whatever conditions they want for their party, and we have every right not to go. I am glad really, as it saves us a trip down to southern California over the New Year’s weekend…

Me: In a few minutes you’ll need to feed the cats, Emma.
Emma (standing about three feet away from me): What?
Me: In a few minutes we’ll be sending you to the salt mines.
Emma: What? Where? The salt mines? What do they do there?
Me: Mine for salt.
Emma: OK, I’ll go to the salt mine and get salt for you mommy, if that’s what you want to do.
Me (Torn between laughing and feeling a little sorry for her because she has such a sarcastic parent): Well, thank you, sweetie, I appreciate it.
Emma: OK, I’ll go put on my salt mining boots and go mine salt for you. Good-bye!

A few minutes later Emma came back in with a container filled with “salt” (sand) and I now have a quarter cup of “salt” sitting on my counter. Ah, children. I find it amazing how fast you can go from wanting to lock them in a closet to wanting to give them lots of hugs because of their cuteness and creativity.

OK, back to making dinner.

OK, you all have got to try this - well, except for you Dy - I don’t know if it would work with non-wheat flours - No-Knead Bread. Here’s the article about the process and how it came about from the NY Times. (Sorry about the obnoxious mandatory registration… but really, the recipe is worth it)

I started some at about 4 p.m. yesterday and it just came out of the oven about 30 minutes ago. It is delicious - great crust, great texture, great flavor. It really is easy to make (I think I’ve spent perhaps 15-20 minutes in total, including clean-up) and while it is a little hard to believe it will actually turn into bread, it produces great results. Finally, a way to replace those $3+ artisan bakery loaves!

Yesterday Emma asked to read about a particular saint as part of our homeschooling block but she couldn’t remember the woman’s name. (we have finished Amy Welborn’s Book of Saints and we are either re-reading from that book or reading books about saints from the library) She sat down with the book this morning though and found her - St. Margaret Clitherow. She mainly remembered the details of her death (I suppose being crushed by rocks is rather memorable) but as I read it I could tell she was really struck by the details of her “crime”. As I was writing my notes about today’s session I decided to look up more information about her. I was surprised to see that she was only recognized as a saint in 1970, even though she died in 1586. I am in awe of what she did in her life - her quiet bravery, fortitude, and faith. I was particularly astonished and taken aback to see what she was only thirty when she was martyred - the same age I am! I feel very thankful that I live in a country where I can make the same conversion that she made all those years ago without fear of persecution or hardship.

And speaking of converting, I had my meeting with my RCIA director on Tuesday and I will be participating in the Rite of Acceptance this Sunday, November 19th. Technically I think it is a Rite of Welcoming for me because I am already baptized, but I’m not entirely clear on the nomenclature here. But at any rate, I am moving forward and I will no longer be an Inquirer but a Candidate.

What my children were up to while I washed the dishes last night…

Here’s Gregory, raiding the pantry:

And here’s Emma, standing on the couch and hanging “ghosts” from the light:

What a weekend. We spent the day yesterday up in Roseville, visiting with some of my husband’s cousins, uncle and mom as they waited in the hospital to see his aunt and to see if there would be any changes. Everyone is doing as well as can be expected, and really, probably better than some would expect. Aunt Sandy is getting really good care, and the family has a ton of support from their family and friends. It is going to be a long road, and there are still a lot of unknowns, but at this point there are definitely reasons to be optimistic. If you’re interested in a longer update, Matt’s cousin Sarah wrote one on her blog.

We left the hospital at about seven and decided to head back to our college town, Davis, to get some pizza from our favorite pizza joint back in our college days. It was a little out of the way, but we didn’t want to just get fast food and we thought it would be fun. Both kids fell asleep in the car in between Roseville and Davis, but we decided to risk it and wake them up. It was a little bit of a shaky start (Emma got whacked in the head by someone who was not used to watching out for little people) but we found a booth in the loft where Emma could watch the pizza assembly line. She really liked watching the dough get pressed and tossed, and was amazed that there were so many different toppings that could go on a pizza. The pizza was good, but sadly not as good as the pizza we make. I guess we’re just spoiled now. Oh well, there are worse ways to be spoiled. As I was standing and bouncing Gregory and waiting for Emma to finish her pizza, I was idly watching people come in the restaurant. I was watching one couple for awhile when I suddenly became quite certain that the man was actually my ex-boyfriend from college. I watched them more closely, and I realized that it just had to be him. I checked Google today and sure enough, he does still live and work in Davis. Weird. I didn’t go down and say anything - in fact I stood there hoping he wouldn’t look up! I was glad to see that he looked happy and well. When I talked with him last, seven years ago, that was not the case. They sat in the other room so I didn’t see them when we walked out (I wonder if he would have recognized me anyways, especially with two small children!) and we continued on our way home.

This is kind of a random post, but I guess I’m just procrastinating. I really should be catching up on my Bible reading, planning next weeks menus and activities, and finishing rearranging the bookshelves (we packed away some books to make some room to move books higher - Gregory is getting a little too enthusiastic about pulling the books off the shelves!)… ok, I’ve now run out of things to say so I am really going to go and be responsible now. Really. I promise. Just as soon as I proofread this post.

Mrs. Darwin recently posted about a blog I hadn’t heard of before - <"http://et-tu.blogspot.com/">Et tu, Jen. I started reading it and from what I read I think we have quite a bit in common. Not only the superficial stuff like that fact that we’re about the same age, with the same number of children and that we’re both in RCIA, but it seems we’ve followed a somewhat similar path in our faith journeys. It is really neat to read a blog by a fellow traveler, especially one who seems to be more naturally eloquent and open than I am.

I was skimming through her archives a bit and I came across this quote:

When I decided to stop talking about being “open-minded about religion” and actually open my mind to religion, I became a Christian. And when I set aside what I want to be true to seek what is actually true, I became a Catholic.

It made me think about something that’s been on my mind recently - how I feel like I’ve gone through two conversions. First there was an intellectual conversion, where after reading a fair amount of C.S. Lewis and other apologetics, I accepted the bare bones of Christianity. However, I was unwilling to open my heart as well as my mind. I could accept the reasons and arguments of these great thinkers, but I wanted God then to accept me as I was - like it was enough that I would admit that he exists. Of course, this intellectual assent wasn’t enough, I needed to involve my whole self in this - no one can claim to be a follower of God if they are giving just a little bit of themselves. Gradually I came to realize this, and I began to pray every day that God would help me open my heart to him. And gradually, ever so gradually, I began to thaw. I started to experience my second conversion, the conversion of my heart. I began to examine all those tenets I had refused to compromise or examine before, and I found that my heart was changing dramatically as it opened. I also began to see where God was leading me… straight into the Catholic Church. At first I couldn’t believe it. Me? Catholic? You have so got to be kidding. But I still kept praying - “please God, help me to open my heart” - and it became clearer and clearer. As I encountered issue after issue, (you know, all the usual things people have to say against the Catholic Church) I was lead to various sources and books and articles and blog posts that helped me figure out how all the pieces fit together. And fit together they do, in ways I never imagined they could. And now I’m in RCIA, and I hope to be brought home to the Catholic Church in April. I am so overwhelmingly glad and profoundly thankful to be on this path, more than I think I could ever express.

A very, very, wonderful and dear woman had an aneurysm on Tuesday night. She was taken to the hospital at some point during the night, and airlifted to another hospital so that she could receive the care she needs. They operated on Wednesday to try and relieve the pressure from the bleeding, then operated again today to clamp the source of the bleeding. From what little we’ve heard, the operation went well and they feel they were able to stop the bleeding. It seems almost unfathomable to think of this animated and energetic woman lying motionless in a hospital bed, or in a surgery suite.

I have no idea if she realizes how important she has been to me - in my journey as a Christian and as a mother. I have an email from her in my inbox that I hadn’t responded to, and I can’t quite shake the feeling that I can still respond to it and she’ll sit down at her computer and read it sometime tomorrow. It seems so strange to read about all the election news - I feel so far from it all. It seems like everyone should care about what has happened to her - she’s such an amazing woman! But I know that this tragedy is only one of the many everyday tragedies that face people everywhere, at every moment of the day. The world moves on — and there’s buying club orders to be sorted, park play days to attend, dinners to cook, RCIA classes to go to.

I think she’s someone who has lived life as fully as she can, and this has made me try and appreciate the everyday beauty of the world, and the preciousness of the time we have. I’ve had several conversations with her about the stages and seasons in life, especially as she wondered what she would do once her sixteen year old was no longer at home being homeschooled. I don’t know if she ever had any inkling that this would be part of her journey, but I feel confident that she’ll make the best of it that she can. I know she will trust in the Lord to help give her strength, and I know that her family will as well. Two quotes from RCIA this evening that struck me - God loves us completely and unconditionally, and God is in the business of healing. If you think of it and if you are so inclined, please pray for her and for her family.

Overwhelmed - yup, that pretty much sums it up.

Lots of stuff going on, lots of stuff I should be doing but I’m not.

I subscribed to the OrganizedChristmas.com blog and I currently have 23 unread posts and a couple browser windows open from that site. Something tells me that unless my computer can learn all this and figure it out and print out some customized lists for me, this is not going to be an organized Christmas. Oh well, organization is overrated. Or something like that. The main things I want to do are to try and do more Advent activities with Emma (and I have already bought some new Advent themed picture books that I will break out then - yay me) and I want to do some more handmade type gifts this year with Emma. I also really want to make some new stockings for us because the ones we have now are just way too big, and I’m beginning to fear that I’ll just be throwing something together with a glue gun sometime in mid-December. We’ll see. I am feeling rather bah humbug-y about doing Christmas cards this year, but I guess I should probably do something. I’m not going to pay the big bucks and get studio photos this year though, which means I should start trying to take some pictures of the kids now so that I have some hope of getting a cute one where they are both looking towards the camera with at least somewhat pleasant expressions on their faces.

Matt and I have been working a lot on the house plans (well, Matt’s been doing most of it, really) and while it is nice to be making decisions and seeing what things are going to cost, it has also brought up some rather uncomfortable things to the forefront. The short answer? We’re screwed. The long answer? Well, I don’t know, we haven’t figured that out yet. There’s always the time-honored tradition of going into debt up to your ears - we had hoped to avoid that (and only go up to, say, mid-chest or so) but now we’re not so sure. Maybe we need to scale back, maybe we need to live in a yurt on the property for a year or two and save some more money, maybe we just need to win the lottery (note to self, it helps if you start playing it first). We’ll figure something out though, after all, we have to!

Through all this house discussion I keep thinking about a homily at Mass six weeks or so ago. The priest had just recently returned from a trip to El Salvador and was speaking about his experience and what they want to do. The parish had recently concluded a big fundraiser, and they were using that money to buy some land for some people in El Salvador, so that they could live on their own land rather than as squatters on land that was swept away by mudslides or floods every couple years or so. The parish had been so successful with their fundraiser that they were not only able to buy land for the forty or fifty families they were going to help, they also were able to lay in some infrastructure and start building the first of the 50 houses. They were using the Habitat for Humanity plans for that area, and the houses cost $4000 each to build. The priest was looking for people to donate the money needed to build the additional houses, so that the development could be completed.

I keep thinking - $4000 for a house - and a house that these people are thrilled to live in, too. Some of them told the priest that they never imagined they would live in a house that nice. I keep thinking about what we’re doing in trying to build our house, and how much we expect and think we need… But at the same time I realize that if we wanted to build the exact same house as they are building in this development, I doubt we’d be able to do so in California. I doubt it would be up to code, and I doubt we could purchase the materials for anywhere near the same cost. And even if we did succeed in doing so, I wonder if we’d have CPS and the like raising their eyebrows at us because of our “sub-standard” living conditions. I don’t really know where I’m going with this, other than it really brings home the disparity of living conditions and expectations around the world.

Well, enough blogging for now - Emma wants me to read to her again, and Matt wants to talk to me about the house plans.

It feels like it has been quite a day already. Gregory seems to be working on a new tooth, and is pretty much inconsolable unless he is being carried around. Reading out loud or doing any lessons is pretty much impossible when he’s in this state, so I was hoping to get him down for a nap early so that we could do those things while he slept. Even though he was rubbing his eyes and looking exhausted, he resisted my efforts to get him down. Around 10, Emma decided she was ravenous, so I decided to feed all of us a snack. I was hoping that by the time we were done, Gregory would be ready to nap and then Emma I could do our homeschooling block. Emma seemed excessively hungry and thirsty, which seemed a little odd, but I just shrugged it off… then she erupted like a volcano all over the floor (thankfully on the linoleum, not the carpet!) and then I remembered that she always confuses nausea with hunger. *sigh* So I got her stripped and in the shower, then I started on cleaning up the gigantic mess on the floor. I had been thinking this morning that the floor needed to be mopped, but I really wasn’t looking for a reason to do it! Gregory of course started fussing again because I wasn’t feeding him or holding him, and Matt was nice enough to come down and take him back up to the office while I cleaned up. Having Matt work from home is really, really great - especially at times like these! I then got the kitchen cleaned up, Emma out of the shower, dressed and resting in bed, and Gregory down for a nap. The house is finally quiet. Phew, what a morning.

Oh, and here’s Emma again, saying that she’s hungry. Now I get to be the meanest mom in the world and tell her that she can’t have anything to eat, even if she does think she’s hungry. She’s always very sad and pathetic at times like these, and I feel like I’m starving her… At least I know from past experience that this does pass quickly. She should be feeling fine by this evening… I hope!