Seven Quick Takes

1. We just returned from the funeral and burial of a dear friend and neighbor. Sue endured three bouts of cancer with humor and grace. She was loved by many and will be missed by all.
Times like these leave me thinking Dave's touch is a little more tender, Ainsley's cheek is just a smidge squishier, John's eyes are just a tad browner.

I appreciate the ordinary just a little more.

2. Here's the latest Dolin family portrait courtesy of Ainsley:

3. Girl Wonder also wrote her name for the first time:

4. I'm de-cluttering "the den of iniquity" and found a treasure trove of Tim's papers. Or perhaps I should just say "trove" and skip the word "treasure." Good gravy, I saved every last work sheet the boy ever scrawled.

My apologies to John and Ainsey: If it doesn't involve a hand print and an overly sentimental and badly rhyming poem about how you won't stay small forever, out it goes.

My efforts unearthed a poster that dates back to Tim's fifth or sixth birthday when he was in his rather long obsession with all things space. Instead of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, we played Pin Neil Armstrong on the Moon. We all had a laugh over that one.

5. "I'm the mama," Ainsley told her doll the other day, "so I have put you in your car seat."

"Ainsley," I asked her, "do you want to be a mama when you grow up?"

"No," she told me, quite emphatically."I'm going to be a princess in a not itchy dress."

6. John and Ainsley have taken to building forts in their  bunk beds. John informs me that his is awesomer.

What is not awesomer? A nameless someone found a can of yellow spray paint that yet another nameless someone left within easy access of the first nameless someone.

Someone's grey bike is now yellow. Someone's mother is not happy.

7. When I type in "FA" to hop over to Facebook, just guess what comes up? Farting.com. Yes, you heard it first here -- Farting.com. What, you're probably wondering, does one find over at Farting.com? I couldn't tell you because I haven't tried surfing in that direction. While I am appreciating the ordinary, I'm not taking it that far.

Head over to Jen's to add your Quick Takes.

Add a Little Red

Cari over at Clan Donaldson offers an interesting photographic tip:

Today, I'd like to try out a photography technique I was taught by my sweet Great Uncle Jim.  Every memory I have of Uncle Jim includes a camera.  He was always taking pictures. 

(He also had a Purple Heart medal.  An actual Purple Heart.  Sometimes he'd take it out of its case and show it to me.  So cool. 

The one piece of photographic advice he gave was this, "Always include some red in a picture".

She gave several examples and darn if a touch of red doesn't make a picture pop! I confused
the Lesson of the Week (add a little red) with the Theme of the Week (piles), so here's my contribution to the photo round up:

If I were sticking to the theme of piles, my archives are full of photos that foot the bill:

The other day I told John to put "put everything in the toy box." He did as he was told. I wish I had snapped a picture of that pile.

Head over to Cari's and add your pictures.

As I'm Cooking Dinner for a Friend

I deal with this:

No, this is not the work of young kids, but the consequence of purchasing no-brand aluminum foil.

But then I  see Ainsley's first portrait:

 It's me, in case you're wondering. Before my first cup of coffee, but clearly me.

"Are you impressed with me, " Ainsley asks. 

"I certainly am!"

And just so there is no confusion, John writes a title:

 And then I spot this drying on the counter:

A dandelion - my favorite flower from my favorite girl.

Life's little blessings.

A Day in the Kindergarten

Here's a first for me -- substitute teaching in a kindergarten classroom.

Getting there required a bit of mad dash and the first thirty minutes were a tad dicey, but besides that, all was mostly well. No, I haven't discovered what I want to be when I grow up, but all was mostly well.

Those first thirty minutes reminded of the last time I was in charge in a kindergarten classroom -- ten years ago when I taught art once a week for Tim and his then tiny pals. The key take away: Don't turn your back for a minute. If you can avoid pausing to take a breath, all the better. Don't think back to your days in the high school classroom  and consider such folly as strolling down to the copy room to snag a cup of Joe. Oh, no, no, no. There's a reason that elementary kids think teachers never go to the bathroom -- they don't. That is, until the P.E. teacher, the music teacher, the Spanish teacher, or some other blessed and merciful soul assumes temporary command of their charges.

Yeah, the first few minutes were like playing that Whack a Mole game in which the moles just keep popping up. (Thankfully, no one provided me with a stick, and I didn't whack anyone.)

But they were lively. And talkative. And in non-stop motion.

The biggest challenge? Little children are creatures of habit. This is a good thing, something the teacher, no doubt, has worked long and hard to instill in them. Classroom management is all about routines. Trouble is, you throw a sub in there, and she does things a little differently, and the kids all go bug-eyed.

"No!!!" I kid told me in near horror, "we don't read over there!"

"Jonah's supposed to pass out the paper! He's the classroom servant today!"

"We never put things on top of our cubbies!"

Lord love them, they embrace the letter of the law, and there I was just fomenting rebellion and sedition in the ranks with no mind whatsoever for the Way! Things! Ought! To! Be! They're probably at home telling tales to their parents.

I at least had the good sense to respect the office of Line Leader. If Ainsley has taught me anything, it's that one does not mess with the Line Leader.

Lunchtime rolled around, and I realized I had forgotten to pack anything for myself. John grudgingly shared his Doritos. On the table full of math manipulatives,  I spied a container of pretzel rods. After a brief taste test, I am reasonably confident they've been there being counted and measured since Kolbe was in kindergarten.

In the afternoon we hit phonics -- reading and spelling and rhyming. We read Press Here, one of the coolest books ever. I came home and bought it off Amazon.

Tilt the book a little to the left, the book reads. And all the dots slide to the left. Shake it all up! The dots get bigger. So cool. The kids loved it.

As we moved from one activity to the next, I thought about the variety of jobs I've had. I have mostly good memories of my years in big business. I worked with neat people and did some interesting, challenging work. Too often, however  I left my office, having put in long hours, and wondering if my contribution had made any difference at all.

Teaching is nothing like that.  I knew I could have been a better teacher -- more interesting, more patient  more organized --  but I never struggled to see the point of it all. At the end of the day, I could see a ninth grader who could produce a reasonable essay, a student who actually enjoyed The Odyssey, a senior who could articulate what the Renaissance was and why it mattered.

With these little, little ones, it's even more obvious and in some ways more gratifying. At the end of the phonics lessons, five children understood that I plus CK says ICK and that rhymes with pick and sick and nick and stick.

My hat has always gone off to elementary teachers because their side of the trenches routinely includes shoe tying and trips to bathroom and occasionally descends into fever and, worst of all, vomit.  Even today, I had to pop into the little boys' room to check on a student who was having, ahem, issues. Thankfully, for me and for him, it happened to be my kid. As I helped him and as I opened lunch containers and put straws in drinks and assisted with jackets, I thought that there's a good reason my kids have occasionally called me Mrs.Hebert or Mrs. Phillips. The job calls for a fair amount of Mommying.

Please pray for Mrs. Hebert, the hard working teacher who does this everyday, and for her son who had an emergency appendectomy yesterday.

Girl and Specs

From the Mouths of My Babes

Seven Quick Takes:

1. Tim: Baconators are beautiful.

2. John, on the correct use of adverbs: You said I almost stepped in dog poop. You don't even know the meaning of the word almost.

3. Ainsley, on Lenten sacrifices: I don't want to watch a Jesus show! I don't want to watch a Jesus show!

4. John, on omnipotence: Can Jesus hear a silent E?

5. Me: I am tired of having my face in front of a screen.

Kolbe, always one to make a little sacrifice: I'll have my face in front of a screen.

6. Ainsley: John needs to move his feet. He's nervousing me.

7. John: Mama, I had a dream last night that you had a cyber-baby.

Not expecting a cyber-baby as far as I know. Head over to  Jen's and add your Quick Takes.

The Catholic Faith: This Is the Air I Breathe.

We gathered Wednesday night with our Bishop Emeritus in a Mass of thanksgiving for Pope Benedict who yesterday at 2:00 became Pope Emeritus.

It was glorious.

Getting there was another matter entirely.

The whole process reminded me of a mommy quote I read over at Rachel's the other day: I gave up murder for Lent. Kidding, kidding, kidding. But it easy it tweren't. I'll spare you the specifics save to mention that dinner cost us an entire shaker of salt and nearly cost us my sanity.

And here's the rub: I internalize all of this, over-analyze it, assign it far more weight than I should. I want things to be Just So. And they aren't Just So.

We're going to Mass to honor the Pope. Let's be at happy. No? How about peaceful? I would have settled for civil. I figured I could at least insist on quiet. And quiet they were until John and Kolbe began fake fighting and, rather predictably, John took a for real punch to the temple.

Cue wailing, loud, loud wailing

"It's all fun and games," Tim sternly intoned, "until someone loses an eye."

And I burst out laughing.

We arrived. Ainsley jumped out and noticed the radio tower adjacent to the church.

"It's the Eiffel Tower," she gleefully exclaimed, enamored as she is with all things related to Madeline.

This, too, made me laugh.

In we went. I had no sooner found my seat when a nearly palpable peace began to envelop me. We began the opening hymn -- Come, Holy Ghost.  As we moved into the second verse the words O Comforter, to thee we cry made me cry.

Rarely have I felt the presence of God -- the comfort of the Holy Spirit -- more tangibly than at that moment.

I  took in the first quiet of my day and I looked first at my husband and then at my children (who at that moment really did appear nothing short of angelic) and I realized once again that this faith of mine, it is the air I breathe.

I love the Catholic faith.

I love the smell and bells, the smoke and the candles, the saints and the sacramentals.

I love the vestments and the liturgical colors.

I love times like these when we pull out the big words, words like Conclave and Consistory and Petrine.

I love the phrases pregnant with both meaning and history -- Keys to the Kingdom, Bind and Loose, Apostolic Succession, Sede Vacante -- phrases that remind me that I am but one in a long succession of souls great and souls humble seeking hope, finding solace, being fed by the body and body of Christ, encountering God come to earth.

I love that we can set aside all of the above and embrace what Bishop Boland called the single, essential "kernel" of the faith: Jesus Christ is Lord.

I love it.

Just before communion, we said a prayer that has changed slightly with the new translation that came our way a year or so ago: Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

God does enter under my roof, and I'll continue to enter under His. If the trip easy is easy or is fraught with tension. If the music moves my soul or grates on my ears.

It is the air I breathe.