I’ve been blogging every day this week as part of Week In My Life, a linkup hosted by Kathryn at Team Whitaker. Here are Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. If you’ve missed them all, you can skim through seven days in one blow! Or just read today’s and come back later this week to see whether I have anything left to say.
When Daniel walks out of his bedroom, eyes half-open, arms wrapped around the stuffed candy corn, he announces, “Today is a special day.”
“Why?” I ask him—which I realize now is not the right reply because naturally every day is special.
“Because we are going to Grammy and Poppy’s house today.”
That would make it special. But Poppy, my father-in-law, calls a little while later to ask that John and the boys delay the trip because John’s mother isn’t feeling well. But we promise the boys there will be another trip to see their out-of-town grandparents soon.
It’s Sunday, which means that throughout the morning I field the question, “Is it a church day?” several times. We have a conversation about why we go to Mass and mortal sin, which—as I discover later—is likely to be on the 2nd grade religion test tomorrow. So let’s hope my explanation was solid.
At breakfast we learn that no one likes the Star Wars chicken noodle soup anymore, or at least they want a break from it for a while.
The boys seem to be in a musical mood, playing “Jingle Bells” on the piano and disappearing into their bedroom when they realize I’ve overheard them practicing their Christmas concert songs in the living room.
Daniel and I try to play a Fruit Ninja card game with the stuffed candy corn, but we can’t figure out the rules even though we are making them up ourselves.
We make it to Mass on time and even remember to bring a few items for the food pantry. Just to give you a better picture of how that donating happens, the boys argue about who gets to carry which item into the parish center to place them on the table. But in the end the donation happens and our right hand is not only aware of what our left hand is doing, but also of what our brother’s left hand is doing—and we still don’t understand why he can’t be the one to give the box of Minion mac and cheese.
No time to debate! We are off to Mass. The boys have elected to go to the children’s program during the Liturgy of the Word. So John and I sit alone in the pew and wait for them to come back.
When they return, they each have a piece of paper with a crossword puzzle on it. They are terrific pieces of paper, but somehow they are incredibly loud, echoing through the church. Maybe they should distribute something quiet—cotton balls, perhaps?—instead. Nonetheless, we make it to the end of a lovely Mass.
Back at home I start making ravioli for lunch when Daniel comes to ask me if he can clean windows for me. Why not? I’m not going to do it.
I hand him paper towels and some cleaning liquid. Minutes later John and both boys are hard at work cleaning the storm door and the sliding door to the backyard. I’ll take it.
I make ravioli for lunch because it is a chilly day and they are what’s in the freezer.
Then I get ready to go out to a meeting about a possible freelance writing opportunity. On the way to the meeting I return a purse I bought two months ago and have been carting around in my car to return ever since. John will be thrilled (shocked?) that I finally made it to the store to return it and walked out without spending the money I earned back.
I meet my possible new clients in a restaurant, where the maître d’ tells me that no one is waiting for anyone in the restaurant, but they are here and I don’t realize it for a while. So the people who are meeting me think I am 10 minutes late when I was 10 minutes early. Ugh. But it’s a delightful meeting and I leave feeling optimistic.
I head home to find John and the boys relaxing with a little TV.
I ask Daniel to go with me to the grocery store to buy bags of apples for his kindergarten class. They are making applesauce tomorrow at school for their Thanksgiving feast, and I volunteered to bring the apples.
Daniel adores grocery shopping, especially since lately I let him choose the store. He picks Mars, which I believe is still locally owned. Today I let him push the cart some of the time, even though it’s more work than if I push the cart. He is an enthusiastic shopper, except in the frozen food aisles because they are cold.
He’s disappointed that there’s no one in the bakery to give him a free cookie, so I break one of my hard-and-fast rules and take a bag of cookies we will pay for later and let him eat one in the store before paying. I never like doing that because I want to pay for items before we eat them—and I like it even less when the cookie drops crumbs and powdered sugar everywhere and Daniel announces he doesn’t like it after all.
As we’re climbing into the car, I point to the sky and say, “Look at that beautiful sky God made for us!”
“It smells like French fries,” Daniel says.
He’s right, of course.
For dinner we have soup, sandwiches, pickles, and grapes. After dinner the boys have hot chocolate and Daniel fills his cup with marshmallows.
“Look, Mama!” he says. “A shamrock!”
In fact, he finds four. Our lucky day.