The Bremberg clan is leaving tomorrow to go off to Ohio to visit the Cordonnier side of the family. We'll be back after Labor Day, but until then you'll have to suffer through a little Paul/LittleBoy/Duke/Priest and Lucy withdrawal!
I have tried to avoid overly graphic descriptions of the real life of the full-time mom on this blog thus far. I realize that not everyone has the stomach to handle all the gory details and, heck, I do have some standards. But this is just too good to keep to myself. It is an honest, brutal, authentic look at the ugly underbelly of the lives of truly desperate housewives.
I cried real tears...truly...well, maybe because I was laughing so hard.
As to the insightful, soul-searching question at the end of the piece, I have often asked this of myself. "For this I went to college?" So I could change poopy diapers? Then I think to myself: I spent my summers during college working in nursing homes changing adult diapers. Much stinkier, much bigger, much more unpleasant. College is where I met my husband. The diapers I change now are much smaller, the wearers of the diapers much cuter...hmm...
Overall, college is a plus.
It's hard to know who I'm talking to these days. Paul has developed several alter-egos: "Little Boy" who is based on the main character of the videogame Zelda, "Duke" who is based on our neighbor's black lab named, what else, Duke, and "Priest" who is based on all the wonderful priests Paul knows and loves. Of course, each of these personalities comes complete with costumes and props.
Like most folks dealing with those who suffer from multiple personalities, the problem is you just never know who you are talking to at any one moment. I generally don't know if I'm addressing Paul, Little Boy, Duke, or Priest - unless Paul (or whoever) is already in full costume. Unfortunately, most of the costumes involve THE BLUE BLANKET so even then it can be difficult to distinguish who is who at times. However, Paul (or whoever) is very patient if I address him incorrectly. I simply get a gentle "No, no, no, Momma" and a little reminder of who he really is at that moment.
Tonight's prayer time was a typical scene.
Momma, naively prays: "Jesus, bless Paul."
Paul: "No, no, no. Little Boy."
Momma tries again: "Jesus, bless Little Boy."
Little Boy: "No, no, no. Priest."
Momma, so patiently, prays: "Jesus, bless Priest."
Priest: "And Priest's blanket. And chocolate milk."
Momma: "And Priest's blanket and chocolate milk. Amen."
Priest: "Amen. Alleluia."
Momma puts Priest in crib. Kissing him good-night: "Good-night, Priest."
Priest: "No, no, no. Jesus."
We just returned from a wonderful week at the beach with the larger Bremberg clan (I promise to post pics!). While attempting the monstrous task of cleaning out my inbox, I came across a great article my brother Josh sent me on the "Mommy Wars," quoting at length my favorite author, G.K. Chesterton. As usual, GKC hits the nail on the head with his usual insight and wit.
How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.
Paul made his first escape attempt from the crib after today's nap. Hearing a ear-piercing burst of screams, I ran up to Paul's room to find him dangling over the crib railing. He was delicately balanced on his stomach over the railing - arms out of the crib, legs still in. With his blanket over his back like a cape, it rather looked like Paul making a poor imitation of Superman.
While the attempt was unsuccessful for Paul, it was a brilliant success for Mommy. Paul's little scare will most likely curtail any further experiments in trying to fly out of the crib in the near future. Mommy is not quite ready for a toddler bed.
Here's a thought-provoking reflection over at Crunchy Con earlier this week by Rod Dreher on the issue of the sometimes thin line between the sacred and the profane.
Dreher's sentiments generally reflect my own on this issue - initial revulsion by cheap, tacky religious knick-knacks and displays, but better appreciation after a little reflection. I remember visiting a parish in Brooklyn last year right before the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Some of the parishioners were setting up a "Marian shrine" that offended every aesthetic fiber in my body. We're talking tinsel streamers, wrapped with multi-colored lights (oh, the horror!), radiating out from a large reproduction of the Our Lady, sitting on a very, very loud Mexican blanket, surrounding by plastic flowers of every shape and hue imaginable. Truly awful.
But hey, so what if you could say that whole thing was "as ugly as sin." The fact was, it was encouraging virtue. These parishioners were in church on a weekday. They were showing their devotion to our Savior's Mother. These folks weren't setting out to create "fine art" here; they just wanted to celebrate Our Lady.
This isn't to say that beauty isn't important or good or true. I guess I've just learned what St. Paul wrote long ago:
If I have all the eloquence of men or of angels, but speak without love, I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing. If I have the gift of prophecy, understanding all the mysteries there are, and knowing everything and if I have faith in all its fullness, to move mountains, but without love, then I am nothing at all. If I give away all that I possess, piece by piece, and if I even let them take my body to burn it, but am without love, it will do me no good whatever.
So Lucy had a check up with her eye doctor today. For those of you who don't know, Lucy has a few eye issues relating to her hydrocephalus. Her nystagimus (eyes shaking back and forth) is much better - Yea! Her strabismus (eyes crossing) is about the same - okay.
Unfortunately, the doctor saw that she was a little farsighted today. This may be contributing to the strabismus so we are going to get Lucy some glasses to help with the farsightedness. I'm a little intimidated at the prospect of getting a 10 month old to keep glasses on her face and not breaking them every other day. Lucy is a good little girl, though, so I'm hoping for the best.
We also learned that Lucy's eyes are not tracking all the way to the outside of her eyes. The doctor believes this is due to some nerve damage, but isn't sure how much peripheral vision may be lost yet or if it could possibly improve in the future. So we'll see...or not. (Okay, pretty lame joke.)
So what do you think of these frames? Pretty cute, huh?
Update: So it is more difficult than I thought to find a place that carries infant frames. But after an afternoon of phone calls, Lucy's new glasses are finally on order. We liked the ones above, but between the bewildering array of two choices we were presented we picked the following:
Lucy looks great in them. Very intellectual, like her mother.
My husband just asked my 14-year old brother-in-law if he knew what NFP was.
He seriously answered, "I think so. Natural Fertilization Plan?"
I think he's on to something here.
Via Dreher's Crunchy Con blog, here is one of the most disturbing articles I've read - seriously if you don't have a strong stomach, don't read it. It seems the German government is now encouraging incest with over 650,000 pamphlets printed up by its Ministry for Family Affairs over the past several years. Glad my ancestors left Germany some time ago!
