I fell to a cold on Holy Saturday - the 15th of April - and I'm still fighting it today, the 2nd of May. It has been 18 days of a particularly harsh cold that I am only just now beginning to recover from. Of course, it threw the last two weeks of April completely off-kilter and has forced a turbulent start to May.
Over the last two weeks I came to an important decision for our family. A decision that I still don't know is the right or wrong one, but the one I think needs to be made. Sometimes necessary decisions are not always the "best" decisions, they are simply inescapable. I fear shame, ridicule, and judgment from others when they find out.
I'm literally standing at my computer desk to write this, gently rocking and swaying to keep the toddler asleep in the carrier on my back. Even sitting at a desk is sometimes too much to ask in this season of my life.
My parents came on the last day of March, a Friday. The arrived in the late afternoon, but said they were not too tired for Stations of the Cross and a soup supper at the church.
The next morning, the first of April and the first Saturday of the month, the kids had their Altar Guild and Little Flowers meetings. I sent my husband with the kids and stayed home with my parents, chatting over coffee for something like four hours. As soon as everyone returned, my mom and I drove Elijah up north to his chess lesson. An hour drive there, an hour lesson, and an hour drive home. It's a good chunk out of our Saturday afternoons now, and especially exhausting on the first Saturday of the month.
On Sunday, we were back at the church for Mass. Afterward, Anja had her first communion class.
On Tuesday, the 4th, Anja turned 8 years old. This was primarily the reason for the timing of my parents' visit. My mother and I took Anja out and about for the day. She got her hair cut, we went out to lunch, Anja bought some new clothes, and then she picked a cake from the bakery. Per her request, my mother made her famous homemade lasagna for dinner. It was a small and quiet celebration: the way I like it.
And then I broke one of my own rules. A few years ago I made a rule: NO BIRTHDAY PARTIES. This is basically because I am a mean mother. Really though, it is difficult for me to spend time and money on birthday parties. I inevitably always regret it. Even so the kids begged to be able to invite their friends over and have balloons and open presents (I usually just give them cash and let them pick out what they want.)
So I caved and I told them they could have a double birthday party. I made castle cakes - one pink, one blue - and I decorated and served food and we had friends over and they got to open presents.
The problem is that I had practically no time to recover from "birthday mode" before jumping straight into "Easter mode."
I am weak and I have limits. In spite of that, I often ignore those limits.
The day after the birthday party, immediately we moved into Holy Week. That's the trouble with having double birthdays right at Easter-time. Exhausting.
Holy Thursday, there we were for Mass and the stripping of the altar. We had arrived two hours early so my son could attend the altar boy practice for Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
That night I remained at the Altar of Repose until almost midnight.
On Good Friday, I went to the 3PM stations with all the kids, but without my husband since he was working. Again, we arrived two hours early for practice.
We were there for Stations, the readings that followed, the veneration of the cross, and the distribution of Holy Communion.
And then came Saturday, the day I woke up sick. It wasn't too bad yet, and I actually thought to myself that I had better go to the vigil tonight in case I'm worse tomorrow. It was a good decision, because I did wake up worse on Easter Sunday.
The vigil was hard for me. Firstly because I was very tired, but secondly because I was sick. I had brought my camera but didn't even attempt to take any photos. It's a beautiful Mass and I was grateful to hear those beautiful bells that never seem to end.
We got home after 1:00AM and set to work stuffing plastic eggs after the kids were asleep. We set up their Easter baskets and then promptly collapsed into bed and plunged into sleep.
In the morning, the kids were bouncing with excitement over their baskets. They enjoyed a little egg hunt in the backyard.
For Easter dinner, I put three frozen pizzas in the oven and popped open a bag of chips.
Yes, really.
Too sick to cook.
And thus began my nearly 20-day plight with one of the worst colds I've ever experienced.
Life doesn't stop, so I was still chauffeuring my little crew to piano and chess and archery and even to a tour of the fire station. At one point, I stupidly ran out of gas and had to have friends come rescue me. Then I stupidly bought a gym membership and decided to try running on the treadmill a few times before I figured out: STOP IT. YOU'RE SICK.
If there's one thing having a cold teaches me, it's that I have very little regard for slowing down and resting. Instead, I will charge forward at full speed and wonder why I'm not getting better.
And thus April rolled on. Me being sick and defiantly not wanting to be sick.
On Sunday, we were back at the church for Mass. Afterward, Anja had her first communion class.
On Tuesday, the 4th, Anja turned 8 years old. This was primarily the reason for the timing of my parents' visit. My mother and I took Anja out and about for the day. She got her hair cut, we went out to lunch, Anja bought some new clothes, and then she picked a cake from the bakery. Per her request, my mother made her famous homemade lasagna for dinner. It was a small and quiet celebration: the way I like it.
And then I broke one of my own rules. A few years ago I made a rule: NO BIRTHDAY PARTIES. This is basically because I am a mean mother. Really though, it is difficult for me to spend time and money on birthday parties. I inevitably always regret it. Even so the kids begged to be able to invite their friends over and have balloons and open presents (I usually just give them cash and let them pick out what they want.)
So I caved and I told them they could have a double birthday party. I made castle cakes - one pink, one blue - and I decorated and served food and we had friends over and they got to open presents.
The problem is that I had practically no time to recover from "birthday mode" before jumping straight into "Easter mode."
I am weak and I have limits. In spite of that, I often ignore those limits.
The day after the birthday party, immediately we moved into Holy Week. That's the trouble with having double birthdays right at Easter-time. Exhausting.
Holy Thursday, there we were for Mass and the stripping of the altar. We had arrived two hours early so my son could attend the altar boy practice for Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
That night I remained at the Altar of Repose until almost midnight.
On Good Friday, I went to the 3PM stations with all the kids, but without my husband since he was working. Again, we arrived two hours early for practice.
We were there for Stations, the readings that followed, the veneration of the cross, and the distribution of Holy Communion.
And then came Saturday, the day I woke up sick. It wasn't too bad yet, and I actually thought to myself that I had better go to the vigil tonight in case I'm worse tomorrow. It was a good decision, because I did wake up worse on Easter Sunday.
The vigil was hard for me. Firstly because I was very tired, but secondly because I was sick. I had brought my camera but didn't even attempt to take any photos. It's a beautiful Mass and I was grateful to hear those beautiful bells that never seem to end.
We got home after 1:00AM and set to work stuffing plastic eggs after the kids were asleep. We set up their Easter baskets and then promptly collapsed into bed and plunged into sleep.
In the morning, the kids were bouncing with excitement over their baskets. They enjoyed a little egg hunt in the backyard.
Yes, really.
Too sick to cook.
And thus began my nearly 20-day plight with one of the worst colds I've ever experienced.
Life doesn't stop, so I was still chauffeuring my little crew to piano and chess and archery and even to a tour of the fire station. At one point, I stupidly ran out of gas and had to have friends come rescue me. Then I stupidly bought a gym membership and decided to try running on the treadmill a few times before I figured out: STOP IT. YOU'RE SICK.
If there's one thing having a cold teaches me, it's that I have very little regard for slowing down and resting. Instead, I will charge forward at full speed and wonder why I'm not getting better.
And thus April rolled on. Me being sick and defiantly not wanting to be sick.
But on a happier note: we finished Two Towers in April and started Return of the King. We are a little over half-way finished. I'm just a little bit obsessed with all things Tolkien right now and have plenty more Tolkien-themed books lined up in my reading queue. Particularly ones about the biblical and Christian themes in his books, the influence of Catholic sacramentality on his thoughts and work, and just the religious vision and symbolism permeating his work in general.
When I read The Hobbit and FOTR as a young teen in high school, I was utterly bored by them. I didn't understand them. It's amazing how, now that I've grown in my spiritual life and fallen deeply in love with Catholicism, I see these books in an entirely new light that impresses me greatly.
Perhaps it is the great message that hope can be found amidst despair that is speaking so loudly to me right now. Or maybe it's just that hobbits love butter as much as I do.
"To Hobbits, an excess of butter was one of the great and requisite joys of life." - Noble Smith
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