One more day till spring break. One kid has a fever, and two are complaining that their stomachs hurt. This does not bode well for our “vacation”. Not that we’re going anywhere, but I’d like to do something other than nurse sick kids all week. Please pray that the amazing Lear immune system kicks in and everyone gets/stays healthy.
The Dude unknowingly paid me a lovely compliment recently. In sharing with me how he would describe me to a priest that he was looking forward to meeting, he said, “You might know my mom. She’s kind of tall [what?!], with brown hair, green eyes… and she’s freakishly Christian.” I said, “Dude, did you just describe me as freakishly Christian?” to which he replied, “Yeah, mom. You’re like Jimmy John’s. They’re freakishly fast. You’re freakishly Christian.”
A mom could be a lot of “freakish” things to her ten year old son. Freakishly Christian? OK. I’ll take it.
Now, this might lead some of you to wonder as to the spiritual life of my dear son. I’m trying, folks. ‘Nuff said.
My Catholic birthday was Wednesday! I had great fun telling Bonita that I’m only one year older than her… in the faith that is. Boo and I usually attend Mass on Wednesdays because that’s when the big kids go with school. It wasn’t easy getting there this week, but we made it, although we arrived a few minutes late. I’m so glad we did. There was something incredibly special about receiving the Eucharist, reflecting on the fact that it was nine years ago to the day that I first received this precious gift, and feeling incredibly grateful for having been called into the Church. I guess I’ve never knowingly attended Mass on my Catholic birthday before, but you’d better believe I’ll never miss it again.
The same day happens to be my patron saint’s feast day. My RCIA class was never encouraged to choose a patron saint, so I found mine a few years later, when I was struggling in my Arbonne business and seeking support. I Googled “patron saint for business women” and discovered St. Margaret Clitherow. At the time, the similarities between my life seemed quite remarkable – and, no, not because of the second sentence of the link referenced above. 🙂 She was a convert, whose husband did not convert in her lifetime (Ray at this time showed no signs of conversion). She had three children, two boys and a girl, as did I at the time. And she was a business woman, helping her husband in his business. In addition to these similarities, I hoped that, if ever I were presented with persecution such as she underwent, I would respond in the same manner. And thus, I took St. Margaret Clitherow as my patron saint. It wasn’t until later that I realized her feast day and my Catholic birthday were one and the same. The actual day of her death – March 25th – also happens to be a notable day in our family; the day Bear finally came home from the NICU.
With the housing market going crazy, and our neighbors having sold their house four days after they put in on the market, we are in a frenzy to get the house ready for sale. For the first time in my life, I painted a room all by myself. And I put up the new shower curtain rod and towel hooks. OK, OK, this may seem silly to you do-it-yourselfers out there, but this was a major accomplishment for me. It left me feeling empowered that, just because I’m a woman with four kids, doesn’t mean I can’t tackle a project and get ‘er done.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get a picture before the kids made their usual mess in the bathroom and Boo screwed up the aesthetic anyways by peeing on her white towel so now a pink one is hanging in her place. Maybe next week I’ll get that picture up for you. 😉
Since I don’t have the aforementioned pic, I’ll grace you with another, less flattering one. In fact, this may be one of the most unflattering pictures ever taken of me. OK, probably not, especially since the illusion of a possible six pack under the IU shirt does exist (trust me, it’s only an illusion). Since my dear husband posted it all over Facebook, I might as well share it here as well. Take note of the absolute glee with which I appear to do plumbing work, with a huge smile and arms uplifted as if to say, “GOOOOOOO, Pipes!”. It’s like I’m the plumbing cheerleader or something. Instead of pompoms, I hold a wrench, and in lieu of a cute little cheer costume, I don elegant safety goggles. I don’t jump up and down and do acrobatics, though. My work is done lying on my back (People! That is not where I was going!) with my head stuck in a cabinet.
From there we could go off on all sorts of tangents, so I’d best end this post. Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment so I know you stopped by!
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