Lucy: “You sneaky little sister!”
as Samantha climbs on top of her in bed
Lucy: “You sneaky little sister!”
as Samantha climbs on top of her in bed
It’s funny the positions you can be put in by little ones. But it just shows why I prefer to do my grocery shopping early, when the store is empty, even though we usually don’t do it that way any more.
Samantha has added a number of words to her vocabulary lately, including cracker. And she really likes crackers. So when we went down that aisle on Tuesday, thank God at about 8:30 in the morning, she got very excited, and started shouting,
“Ca-ca! Ca-ca! Ca-ca!”
Happily, I’m not the only one with these sort of experiences. Craig’s parents’ neighbors have a daughter right between Lucy and Samantha – she’s about 2 1/2 now. And Jasmine’s dad took her to the store one afternoon, and she started shouting, all through the store, and could not be bribed or threatened to stop, “Daddy, I suck! I suck!”
When he got out of the store (swearing that he would never bring her shopping again), he realized that she had gotten her hand stuck in the cart. She was trying to say “stuck”.
And thus the running jokes begin. Anyone care (or dare!) to share similar stories?
For once, the pause in posting wasn’t my fault! Last Saturday Craig put insulation in our attic, and bumped something that killed the electricity in the room with the computer. So that was finally fixed yesterday, when Craig was home in the morning when it was cool enough to get up in the attic again and fix it. But now we’re functional again, anyway.
We’ve been busy in the garden, and I’ll have to put up some details and pictures sooner or later. But the exciting thing, we realized last night, is the variety of foods we’ve had this week. Almost all of which Lucy has at least sampled. Many of which are things I’ve only started eating recently myself. Here’s the list, at least what I can remember, from the last week:
radishes (and their greens) dipped in vinegar
sushi of various sorts
her first icee
I think those are all the interesting things, but I thought it was an impressive list for a three-year-old.
The beans have come! It’s garden time, and my first order from Seed Savers has come in, and is already in the ground. Well, not all of them, but nine Flor de Junio, and nine Tejano beans (I only ordered the Flors, apparently the others were lagniappe) are in their appointed squares. Prior to their arrival, we already had onions (some green ones we rescued from the compost pile and some seeds which are just coming up), orange, green, and “chocolate” bell peppers, jalapeño and Anaheim peppers, basil, oregano (which over-wintered) lemon balm, dill, chives, parsley, orange mint, salad greens (some of which have already bolted and been removed, including the bacon-flavored one, whatever it was), and several types of tomatoes. The daffodils and tulips are bloomed out, and the iris are in full bloom now (some yellow and some white, with some white and purple on their way). I put in some morning glory seeds in pots in hopes of getting them to climb the play ground the porch posts. The orange tree is blooming (I wish I could send you a smell of it – it is amazing!) and the jasmine is almost there. All the berry bushes (ok, they’re not bushes yet, they’re sticks) have new growth, so in two years, if nothing goes wrong, we will have berries, too!
And there is a dove nest in the tree-bush near the garden. She’s sitting, so I’m looking forward to hearing the babies chirping soon. Apparently the eggs take about two weeks to hatch, then another two to leave the nest, and then they might even reuse the nest. I’m pretty excited about all that.
We’ve also had one big, black snake behind the shed, and more cats than we can keep track of coming through. I found one tabby tom-cat sitting in the stroller we had left out a couple of weeks ago. It looked ready to go for a ride.
Lucy wants to plant potatoes and other food, so her square will be turned up from the tulips and daffodils, now that they’re bloomed out, but we’re not quite sure how that is going to work yet. And Craig built a worm farm, so now all we need is manure and, well, worms. The garden shop nearest us doesn’t sell them, so I have some searching to do. Which means I should probably get busy before the girls wake up. Happy Spring, everybody!
I love the Latin with the double u’s. And we had occasion over the past weekend to find out the real reason that we get Easter Monday off of school. It’s to allow people with small children to recover from the Triduum.
Or not, since I think that’s probably just us. But we survived it – two hours on Holy Thursday with an un-napped three-year-old, two hours Good Friday, and over three hours on Holy Saturday. Here’s the blow-by-blow.
We arrived late for Holy Thursday, because we came straight from New Orleans at rush hour, straight from Craig’s FoodFast retreat at school (that means 50 or so high school students fasting and learning about poverty for 24 hours). I cooked the closing meal, Hatian red beans for 50. That is getting to be my specialty, if anyone needs catering in the near future. (We made it for about 200 the Friday before – that’s another story!)
But anyway, we got there, parked in the boonies, and planted ourselves and our tired babies in a pew. I’d been prepping Lucy for a couple of weeks about the people getting their feet washed and such, but we couldn’t see very well, and she was really too tired to care. Samantha alternately climbed, fussed, and nursed the two hours away. Then it was home to Nana and Papa’s to collapse, except collapsing doesn’t happen at grandparent’s houses, at least not right after you arrive, so we were up for a little longer.
Friday brought sleeping relatively late and the (traditional? I’m not sure) Good Friday fish fry at the Bakers’. More fish, hush-puppies, fries, and the like that we could eat. Then on to the Veneration of the Cross. Samantha was very, very fussy, and I finally ended up nursing her in a side chapel. Unfortunately, it was the crucifix chapel, and rather than bringing up a cross to the altar like I expected, the liturgical plan was to circle everyone through this very chapel to reverence the cross. When I saw the altar servers and deacon headed my way, I had to very quickly detach sleeping Samantha and run for the pew. As much as a person can run with a surprised, yet thankfully still sleeping, toddler in her arms, anyway.
But my close-escape was not the end of our trials. As Craig came up to the chapel in the line (behind me unfortunately, so I didn’t get to see the festivities) Lucy, whom he was carrying, latched onto the wall with both hands and refused to let him enter the chapel. (I don’t think “chapel” is really the best word for this space, now that I think of it, it’s really more of a nook, but that sounds funny to me.) Lucy was apparently afraid of the crucifix, which was strange because the night before she had wanted to stay later so Craig could “show her Jesus”, but that was not about to happen during the silent watching after the Holy Thursday liturgy. Anyway, Craig returned to the pew thwarted. But yet, we survived and went home (well, to Craig’s parents’ home at least), again, to bed.
Holy Saturday dawned. We made one excursion, then made sure there were naps all around. (Lucy has been successfully avoiding them lately, but that was just not an option.) We got all dressed up after a later-than-planned dinner and headed out. Mass started at 8 PM. We were as prepared as parents can be for such a thing – books, a lacing card for Lucy…but no snacks. Well, we were almost as prepared as we could be. The bonfire went well enough. Lucy was interested, but Samantha was fussy. But it wasn’t a big deal since we were outside. The procession inside calmed her down for some reason, and God be praised, she nursed to sleep as soon as we got to the pew. And slept through all the readings, the lights coming on, the Alleluia-ing, the Baptisms, and even the applause that went with them. I didn’t get to see much since I spent the whole time sitting down, but I was so glad she slept.
Of course, she did wake up, as usual it seems, in time for the Eucharistic prayer, and so we spent the rest of the evening back and forth, in and out of the building. There isn’t anywhere to hide a screaming infant in that church. The final outburst, in the liturgical silence just before the closing prayer, was the loudest. Father (apparently, I couldn’t hear it with the screaming in my ear as I rushed -again- for the door) mentioned that it sounded like a broken record, at which Samantha promptly changed her tone. So she showed him. Or something.
But we celebrated with cake and cheese cubes and broccoli and punch afterwards, and slept late on Easter morning. We were tired. It was so worth it. I love the Easter Vigil. I started going in middle school (or earlier?) when my mom was doing RCIA for children. I got to hand the brand-new neophytes (is that redundant?) the towels after they were Baptized one year. I have always loved the liturgy for this night, the fire and water, the litany of the saints, the lights coming on in the middle of the service. The oil and the smiles on 10-year-old faces afterwards. (And Fr. Tom does not spare the oil. He slathers. Even after they changed, the poor boys all had holy-oil cow-licks.) St. Jean does beautiful liturgy, and it was a blessing to me, screaming baby and all, to experience it this year. It was that little taste of the Holy that I miss sometimes now that I don’t get to daily Mass, or adoration, or those other quite times that I used to so often. It was totally, entirely worth it.
Easter included an egg hunt at one neighbor’s house, and then Mrs. Mary Lou’s feast at the other neighbor’s house. Many, many desserts were sampled. A bunny had his tail straight-pinned on. There was a pinata, but I missed that part. Monday Craig and I had a movie date (finally cashing in one of our Christmas presents) and we drove home. And today I finally finished unpacking. We are nearly recovered.
Lucy (playing with my hair): I’m going to pull your hair out (=make it stand up). I want to make it look funny. Like Daddy.
Lucy (checking Craig’s knee with a hammer): I’m not a doctor, I’m a fixin’ girl.