Mission Trips, Wheelbarrow Races, and Life Lessons--All from the Youth

It was the second night of the mission trip--the first night after a long, hard day of work. But there was still lots of energy and excitement.

I referred to my handy dandy notebook with the daily schedule so lovingly put together for me by my shared with me so I could adapt it for the trip I was leading this year.
incredible daughter--okay that's the blatant lie of a mother who would like to believe the world of her children revolves around her, so let me rephrase. I referred to my handy dandy notebook that my incredible daughter put together for the youth trip she led last year and lovingly

"Oh good, " I thought, "Relay races. Who doesn't like relay races? AND the added bonus is it will get some energy out."

I announced the activity and only heard one groan, "I don't like relay races and games." so I thought I was in the clear of anything going wrong--thought is the operative word here.

We started with the wheelbarrow race. First let me say--not everyone even knew what a wheelbarrow race was--clearly they did not go to Montgomery Elementary and have the amazing field days I did--can I get a shout out my fellow mustangs?

I explained how it worked, and we got ready to begin. Let me start with my first mistake. Each pair was to go down and back--no not down and then switch places but down and back without switching places. Second mistake, everyone had to be both the wheelbarrow and the handle at some point. I heard groans but said to myself, "this will take awhile" (How many of us plan activities thinking it will take 20 minutes and it only takes 5?) and again, they'll get some energy out. (They did but not necessarily the kind I wanted--more on that later....)

On your mark, get set, go!

Some started laughing immediately, some started pacing worrying about when it would be their turn, some watching said, "I'm not doing it." Others started telling me why they couldn't do it--lower back aches etc...wah wah wah, I thought. None of the first pair was very good---sorry just speaking the truth here.

And I was getting irritated--my mind started going to the whole old people thinking of, "Back when I was a kid" and "They just don't get out and play anymore--phone and video obsessed kids." Those thoughts were  completely contradictory to the fact they had no phones on this trip and NOT ONE had complained--or I'll add has complained five days later--AND most of them had been outside playing volleyball for hours. But really does logic have to follow when the image you have had in your mind of perfect, fun, energy releasing relay races does not include complaints and not being able to do it and that image is being shattered before your very eyes?

Some of them begged me to let the game be over--I didn't comply. Others began cheering their friends on and others became very quiet.

One youth finished being the handles, dropped her "wheelbarrow" and ran off into the building. They had me pause. This was not a youth who usually did that no matter what happened. Others were concerned and I could feel my perfect evening slipping away. "I'll show them," I thought, "This is so not hard and they'll think it's funny that Mama Doyle is doing it." I knew I had to save the mood even if that meant humiliating myself. Plus to be honest, I really believed I was going to show them all up. (I'm pretty sure there is a psychiatric disorder which includes grandiose thinking...)

I grabbed a youth and said, "Let's do this." I could hear chants of "MAMA DOYLE, MAMA DOYLE!" and hear my co-leader, "Katherine you're going to hurt your knee. Are you crazy?" But I was determined and irritated and desperate.

AND IT WAS FREAKING HARD!!! My arms ached, my core ached (in my defense I've had 4 c-sections none of them can say that). I couldn't go straight, but I was damned and determined I was going to succeed (and show them up), so I kept going, until I couldn't. (And yes I could also hear someone say, "Bless her heart." I also heard, "I'm videoing this and sending it to her children." --maybe I should consider whether he was the best choice of a chaperone.) 

I fell to the ground and laughed, but also began to think.

I asked them to do something I hadn't tried in years--and although I thought I remembered racing the full length of Montgomery's field, my memory may be a bit off--that wasn't smart. I also thought about the different reactions. Like so many other times, these youth taught me lessons in life and taught me about their strength, endurance and resilience.

They didn't all want to do this race or any of them, but they wanted to be a part of the group so they joined in discomfort and all. As they were racing, some were determined and focused, some laughed at themselves as they fell--some because they really thought it was funny and some because they were so embarrassed and that was their best defensive reaction. I thought about the youth that had to go isolate for a moment and realized my request, my insistence had taken something from the person--had cost the person and not in a good, uplifting way.

Five minutes after I finished my "show" (really probably a bit longer--it takes awhile for a 51 year old to get off the ground) they were all back together and ready for the next race. It didn't break them--it brought them together (possibly against me, but oh well).

So many things I learned--first and foremost it's not all about me (See above) and more importantly while I want to challenge and push the youth (and myself) into stretching ourselves, I also need to listen to them. I need to know more fully what I'm asking them to do. I need to flexible in my thinking and my expectations. I was reminded we all take life's challenges on in different ways--some laughing, some crying, some quietly, some fussing, and some wanting to conquer the challenge.

We are all different--all created in God's image--but all different. We have different strengths and weaknesses. we have different ways of responding to life's challenges. We come into situations carrying our past. We come into situations bringing past challenges. I was reminded by these remarkable youth of all these things. But that wasn't the most important lesson.

These youth taught me about forgiveness, and fortitude and strength. They were irritated with me, some down right mad as hell. They were embarrassed and uncomfortable, but they stayed connected. They stayed in the group, and they moved on--together.

They are amazing and I am deeply grateful for the privilege of journeying with them.

Tires, Tampons, and Growing Up Doyle

I have young adult children, most of the time they even act like it. But not, it's been proven over and over, when it comes to cars....(and I'm not talking about the 7 totaled cars).

The latest problem started this week. The Babies' car has been leaking air in a tire for oh, let's just say

Leaving the bumper sticker on--
what cop gives a ticket to someone who announces
they love their mom?

the whole summer. They have become very adept at putting air in tires. Mind you this is one of the four NEW tires we bought the day William was driving home from college--a whole other story.

Anyway, Caroline wants to go to Mississippi this weekend. We told her the tire had to be fixed before she goes. (I think she really wanted us to say the air conditioner needs to be fixed, but I digress...) All week she was too busy, read had lots of other things to do as well was probably hoping we would do it for her. Friday afternoon came...she could put it off no longer. To her credit, she took the $25 coupon that had come in the mail.

I can only imagine the sweat pouring down her back, her wide eyes, her hands shaking as she approached Big O Tires--the fiercest monster she had ever encountered.

The text started--I'm her mama so I can read between the texts. Let me translate

• "Do I have to make an appointment at Big O" translates "Please say yes and it's too late so I don't have to do this."
• "Are you still with William" translates "Please make him do this." (the truth is typically he would do anything for his baby sister so this wasn't a ridiculous questions--but I wasn't.)
• "But like where do I put the car?" translates "Don't you want to meet me here and handle this?"

Well unfortunately for Sweet Caroline, I have been working really hard in therapy and so did not swoop in to save her--well that and I didn't have a car because Sweet William had mine....(which leads to another question--why do I pay for the gas for him to nanny with my car?--therapist will soon be able to retire or purchase a mountain house.)

Then the phone call comes....

"Where's the tire key?" By this time Chris was home so he could answer since I had NO IDEA--I didn't even know there was such a thing as a tire key. While Chris is responding I am desperately hoping and praying I didn't throw it out when I cleaned out the car earlier this summer.

He could sort of answer--he could give her some ideas of where it might be. Here's how that conversation went.

Chris, "Look in the console--you know the thing between the front seats--or the glove compartment."

Caroline, "They're looking, but really the console? This is awful."

Me, "What's wrong?"

Caroline, "It's full of TAMPONS!" 

I began to silently laugh recognizing this was a far more embarrassing situation than the time Boss had my car (And Then the Tampons Fell Out) That problem also all started with a defunct tire....

Caroline continued, "And you should have told me they'd have to go in my car. They opened the trunk and there were THREE bras in there." (I'm trying to forget she has also been driving around 6th grade boys--quite the life lesson their learning. Oh wait, they have little sisters. Welcome to William's world.) "And it's so embarrassing, the car is full of trash. If I'd known they were going to go into it, I would have cleaned it out." 

Now I just want to know how I can extend an invitation to the Big O tire people to move into our home.

"I have to go. They're asking me something." And then crickets for a long time....

Next text we get asks where we are--no mention of the tire until we ask, and then a nonchalant "they did something for free" answer. That's my girl--if it does't cost us there is absolutely no reason to ask questions. 

The lesson in all this--know how to deal with cars, but make sure you marry well or find a best friend (or your favorite brother William) who will do it for you. 

Gotta go wake up Chris to get him to go fill my car with gas....

Life was Simpler in Different Conferences

When Chris and I first met and married life was simple...

The Bulldogs were in the SEC (of course at that time we didn't give a rat's ass fell in love with them together 2 years later), the Cards were in the Big East, and UVA was ACC....

So I married my wonderful awesome incredible husband who didn't care too terribly much about college football (the only thing my daddy had against him) into a family who lived and breathed college basketball something I didn't understand except for the ACC tournament and only because that meant I got to see my cousins and spar with our dear friends the Millens--UNC fans--We were fine--seriously...we began to rear our children understanding our positions.  But here are a few things that happened along the way...

• Christopher Robert Doyle Jr. is born July 1997 the same year Boss Bailey is the number #1 recruit, hence he will be forever known as Boss Doyle
• I gave birth to William on Dec. 28, 1998--my daddy and husband went to the Peach Bowl (UVA/UGA)--I was in the hospital cared for and totally understood why they would go (I might have secretly wished they had broken me out to go too)
• We move to Pittsburgh--Chris misses a Halloween trick or treat--SK overhears someone say, "How could he miss Halloween for a football game?" to which she replies, "It's not just a football game, it's Georgia/ Florida"
• We meet the Woodyards (UT folks) and the boys ask, "are we allowed to be friends with them?" We acquiesced which led to our best friends the Ramsays in Louisville...it was a long descent
• Boss applied to UK--I could barely stand it but began to think about how I could.  I will support my children in anything they do even if I have to yell, "Go Cats"--please don't make that happen..." (It's not--huge sigh of relief)

We became a sports obsessed family--but it was very organized until....

The conferences started reorganizing--so now UVA remains in the ACC but is joined by U of L. (And may I just for the record mention that in our family the only people who actually have degrees from any school are me (UVA), my daddy and sister (UVA), my mother in law (U of L) and our daughter who currently attends and we pay the tuition for UVA.) Nonetheless despite there are very few with diplomas on their wall from either school, this has caused great family strain...

Bottom line--now UVA plays U of L on a regular basis.  During football season we refer to it as the Divorce Bowl--the beauty of and possibly God given response is they typically split the games. One year us, one year them... It's good fun even if cold for a few moments..  But the stakes have gone up...

I received a text from my brilliant overachieving daughter telling me how stressed she was I misunderstood...SK told me how stressed she was which I believed had to do with school. My beautiful ballerina, over achieving academic daughter...but instead it was about whether she should cheer for the school community she joined versus the basketball family she joined...

So yesterday...she wanted to be here with me--so not really with me as I'd like to believe,  but with her Godparents as they laid to rest her Godfather's father (who she honest to God could have been spit out of his theology), but instead she is in a sports bar totally stressed out (thank you Cammy Leech that she even cares about this) about who to cheer for.  She struggled with being reared a Cards fan and being a UVA student.  I told her if was a good position to be in--no matter who won, you won. She didn't buy it. In fact her response was, "I'm watching it in public so I have to keep it together."  That out of state tuition just paid for itself--we have a "can't keep it together because of sports" daughter--who cares what else she learns?

This is where I love and know that all these years ago we chose the right Godparents--Carter loves the Cards with every fiber of his body (he also may have a graduate degree from UVA as well as a wife with a degree from there, so the two of us--his wife and I find the fact that he always chooses the Cards rather insulting). As we watched the game he said, "Of course she should cheer for the Hoos--she's a student there."  This on top of his comments on the day of burying his dad, "We need to leave the reception. I think dad would want us to watch the U of L game." Yep we chose right...

But this is the whole problem--when we married U of L didn't play UVA in basketball or anything else for that matter, I didn't even really understand college basketball; I didn't think about playing this team.  Our teams overlapped but rarely...but yesterday overlapped and I won...and I will celebrate that until March 5 when we will play again--this time at JPJ in C'ville.  I have no idea if we will win again (Please please please let that happen), but if we split it will help (please please please don't help...).

I believe on Saturday the Yum Center became our house!

Why do we have to share a conference--perhaps it's so we can share what we have in common despite our differences.  Football season and the Dawgs!!! So yesterday ended--and may I just say my Hoos rocked the house!!  I will continue to celebrate that my team reigns supreme for however long that reign may be...

Caroline's Wedding--Part II

We had just picked SK up from the airport (read made a HUGE spectacle of ourselves even prompting a security guard to loudly "Ma'am" Caroline as she broke all kinds of airport security rules crossing the line, running in her heels (it wasn't graceful) to get to her sister) and we were in the car heading home (read to see the brothers who although they desperately miss their sister did not think getting up at the crack of dawn on fall break, making signs, and getting yelled at by security was a good idea) to reunite the entire O'Doyle clan. SK was filling us in on her pledge training...

"I really like it," she was telling us, "although some of it is kind of goofy." (Okay she didn't say "goofy" but I can't remember what she said and chances are it wasn't G rated.)  "In our national newsletter there was an article on how to incorporate KD into your wedding." I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes as I thought, "Did I even get a picture at my wedding of all the Chi O's?  Surely I did. (beginning to feel a sick panic in my stomach) I'll have to check when I get home." (Nope, I didn't.)  I was distracted, but quickly refocused as I heard Caroline ask, "How would you do that?"  "Well," said SK, "Something about the colors on the place settings."  At this I resolutely entered the conversation, "We don't have to worry about that since you won't be having a sit down dinner."

Caroline straightened up very quickly, "What do you mean?"  SK, I KNOW rolled her eyes, and said in a somewhat sarcastic although I secretly believe she agrees with me tone, "Only Yankees ("yankees" drawn out in a definite southern drawl) have sit down dinners.  We will not be having them."  "What are you talking about?" Caroline asked panic becoming apparent. (apparently forgetting she was only 15 and had no boyfriend--but clearly has been planning her wedding for awhile (Caroline's wedding part I)

SK looked at her incredulously, "Don't you get all the pictures and texts Mama sends whenever she officiates or goes to a wedding about what we will and won't do?"  Caroline clearly offended, "No I don't.  Why don't I?"  (I admit it; I might at times send "ideas" or definite "not if we're paying for it" texts...they say admitting is the first step...oh and I send lots of good ideas of things we HAVE to do). At this Chris joined the conversation (see I'm not the only crazy one that gets drawn into these far fetched conversations), "You don't want a sit down dinner. You want it where everyone can walk around and people don't get trapped sitting at tables with people they don't know or like."  Without missing a beat Caroline evilly said, "Oh yes I do.  I want to put all the good people with all the good people and the bad people with all the bad people so they'll know just how bad they are."

I really have no words....

Three days later...driving past a store with wedding dresses in the window Caroline says, "Grandma wants me to wear some big poofy wedding dress." (See even Grandma gets drawn in...) "Why does she want you to wear that kind of dress?"  I asked thinking I knew the answer--Grandma and I have been obsessed with royal weddings for as long as we've known each other; I was thinking a princess look.  Caroline, "I don't know.  I guess she wants me to look like a cupcake."

Birthdays Doyle Style

Tuesday was SK's 20th birthday.  TWENTY!!!  I still can't even get my head around the fact we have a 20 year old.  I still sometimes have to pinch myself to remind myself I really am a mama and not just pretending...

I was in Owensboro so like the good, controlling, over involved Mama I am,  I texted the others to "remind" them it was her birthday.  The responses rolled in from the boys which basically said, "back off woman, we've got this and we've already done it."  Caroline ignored me...

So here's how they happy birthdayed their sister.

William:  Happy Birthday--Congratulations on beating teen pregnancy

Boss:  Holy Shit!  You're 20!  Well technically I'm writing this on Monday so you're still a wittle teenager.  Wish I could be with you on your birthday.  Have a blast.  Don't go too hard on the sake bombs.

I don't know if Caroline texted her, but as she got in my car after field hockey this is what I heard, "Happy birthday; have fun tonight.  Oh, are you on your period?  Because if you are you need to be careful drinking."  Controlling Mama broke in, "What are you even talking about?"  Caroline giving me the perfect you're interrupting me and crossing boundaries into our relationship look, "Shh woman" (she likes to see how I'll react) "I'm trying to give her advice."

Why can't I ever leave things alone--"Caroline, how do you even know that?"  Caroline, "Daddy told me; it's something about your hormones are something."  I started sputtering..."Why would Daddy even tell you that?  And how would he know?"  She just gave me that, "really you're asking that question look?"

She hung up with, "I"m almost finished writing the instagram post."  And here it
is--now this took work!  (Words to songs by some band....)

I need to be fair perhaps they get some of their inappropriateness from me their priest mother--my text to her was, "Happy birthday.  You can no longer blame mistakes on being a teenager and you aren't legal to drink.  So really what's the point.  I love you."

 I'm assuming Chris Senior just said "Happy Birthday."   He's appropriate like that.

Feminism Caroline's Way

I love All Saints--y'all have heard that before.  And I love having all my babies at All Saints.  What I don't love is having Kendall leaving All Saints, but that's a different blog.

When I first started as junior high chaplain, the babies were still in junior high and SK was a junior counselor.  I was so nervous that I would step on their toes (and I probably did--okay they'll probably tell you I stepped all over their feet and tried to take 1/2 their legs off), and yet each year when I would ask if they wanted me to come back, they said yes.  Each year one moved up until this year.

This year it was just SK and me.  It was so weird, and frankly a little (read a lot like I may have cried several times in my cabin) sad.  I missed having them all around; I missed seeing them be at All Saints; I missed seeing the ethos of All Saints seeping into their pores.

I tried to stay in touch with the three not there.  Boys are terrible at texting (terrible at texting me; awesome at texting their girlfriends) and Caroline, well Caroline is just Caroline. I'd go a few days without hearing from her and then get a text that read like this,

     Caroline:  Can I get electrolysis?

Or even better

     Caroline:  Winnie is bleeding
     Me:  Bleeding where?  (Keep in mind this dog was hit by a car this summer so that was not a ridiculous question.)
     Caroline:  From her vagina!!! It's so gross.
     Me:  We couldn't get her fixed because of her broken leg; doing that end of July
     Caroline:  Well what am I supposed to do?  Should I try to use a tampon?

After much laughter and perhaps a moment where I wondered exactly how that would work and was a tad bit curious to maybe see, I responded, no just try to wrap a towel around her.  I so miss my babies (I think).

Happy happy happy dance,  they decided to come to the closing Eucharist for Kendall's final day.  Remember how I said I often stepped on their toes?  I'm not going to tell you how, but within 3 minutes I'd flustered William...but overall it was wonderful and I was grateful to have them ride home with me--or so I thought...

We had just gotten onto 65 when Caroline says, "How many people can I have at my wedding?"  I shook my head from side to side trying to clear the confusion--last I heard she didn't have a boyfriend--but I had been gone a week.  Me, "I don't know; we'll worry about it later."  Caroline, "Well I've been thinking about wedding dresses..."  Now I don't know how we then moved on from there, but all of a sudden William said something about planning his wedding.  Caroline, "You don't get to plan your wedding--you're not the bride--just show up."  William, "What? And you are the one always yelling about equal rights."  Caroline, "Well for some things, and besides have you been thinking about your wedding since you were six?  Do you really want to go look at invitations and taste cake."  (I was a bit surprised he didn't jump on the cake tasting.)  William, "I'm just saying I should get a say."

It really took a lot of effort for me not to point out that a) they weren't marrying each other so neither could say whether he could or couldn't come, b) they were still in high school and c) this conversation was going nowhere.  Caroline was huffing and puffing (and she says I make a lot of breathing noises) and William was egging her on; I was wondering why in the world I wanted them to ride with me?  "I can't decide which kind of dress I want.  I think I'm going to want some sleeves.  Grandma thinks..." and at that I had to interrupt, "Seriously is there something you're not telling me?  You've been talking to Grandma about this?" "Mama," Caroline retorted, "It doesn't hurt to plan in advance. Now back to the dress, I don't like the tops of my arms."

I have no idea how I was now drawn in as though we were truly going to start looking for dresses, but out of my mouth came, "Well start doing push-ups.  They're great for arms."  Caroline, "I hate pushups; they're too hard."  William too was losing his mind and becoming part of this fantasy dress buying operation, "Just do ladies pushups they're easier."

Oh boy--Caroline reared her head up, "Are you saying women have to do easier things?  That's so sexist.  I can't believe you said that."  William, "Fine I won't call them ladies pushups I'll call them wussie pushups."  "NOW YOU'RE SAYING WE'RE WUSSIES!!!"  I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry---and I certainly didn't know how to change the conversation--thank goodness for ringing phones and arriving home.....

Part II
Last night Caroline informed me that she was going to have to go to Mexican restaurants for first dates because if she was annoyed by the way any man ate chips he had to hit the road.  She wasn't going to spend her life married to someone who can't eat chips right.  Just in case anyone wants to start practicing....

Boys and Prom are Way Worse than Girls...

Got up before 6 am to catch a flight back to Louisville so we could be home for prom (or as Chris

says so I can be a part of the prom paparazzi).  We got home around 11 am--William was heading to the shower and Boss was nowhere to be seen.  After checking in with the girls (that should probably read after I convinced the girls to make a grocery list, go to the store and then come home and make the appetizer and desserts I had promised to bring to the sophomore prom dinner), I found him asleep in the basement.  To be fair, he's been really sick so getting as much sleep as he can is a good idea, but I had just discovered he had yet to pick up his tux (which he only ordered on Wednesday!!!).  I tried to wake him up...

I gave up and came upstairs; a few minutes later he emerged wondering loudly why I was so worked up.  "I've got several hours; it's all good." he told me as he began scavenging for food.  "There's no food in this house," he yelled from the kitchen.  William chimed in at this point, "Yeah there's no food."  "I've sent the girls to the store," I defensively responded, "And besides I stocked the house before I left on Thursday."  (Truth is I continually stock the house but when you have 3 teenage boys living under your roof plus their friends, well, one day I won't make a daily full grocery cart Kroger trip.)  He walked into the dining room eating--I was a little confused how he was eating when we had no food in the house; I chose not to ask.  Instead I reminded him he needed to go pick up the car (he's borrowing my mother-in-law's--no truck this year), pick up his tux, pick up the corsages (William can't drive--he needed to get his too) and shower. He just kept telling me it would be fine.

Just then the girls walked in loaded down with grocery bags.  "DO NOT TOUCH THESE GROCERIES!" Caroline yelled as Boss approached.  That might as well have been a double dog dare you, he descended upon them and began pulling groceries from the bag.  They were both screeching, he was tearing open the chocolate chips...it wasn't pretty.  Suddenly there was an even louder scream as SK took a closer look at Boss, "Look at your hair!  Have you even showered?"  I should have stayed out of it, but instead I piped in, "No he hasn't and he hasn't gone to get his tux yet."  "Are you kidding me?" SK kept yelling.  "GO NOW!!"  He continued digging through the grocery bags.

He stopped foraging for a moment, looked up and said, "Why don't you just go get it for me?"  I thought SK's head might start spinning around. "Are you an idiot?  You have to try it on."  "Why?" "TO SEE IF IT FITS!!!"  I tried to explain to him that even though he had tried one on when he ordered it he still needed to make sure what they ordered worked, but I was interrupted.  "JUST GO!!"  "I will," he answered still not moving.

"You are totally stressing me out," SK continued.  "I've got to do your hair; you've got to...." "Wait, what?" Caroline sputtered, "Do his hair?"  "Yes I'm going to straighten it and put it in a man bun." (I was wondering how the Girlfriend felt about that but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut...) "Mom," SK turned to me, "Do something about him?  He's got so much to do and he's not moving.  I know I'm going to make you a list on the chalkboard and you can check things off."  "Nope," he said, (I was thinking he was going to take control of his own prom preparations but alas...) "not the chalkboard.  I hate the sound of chalk writing."  "I"ll get a piece of paper" Caroline contributed grabbing a piece and sitting down at the dining room table. "What do we need on it?"  "Not with pencil," said Boss, "I hate the sound of pencil on paper."  The things you learn about your children...


"Okay Caroline," SK continued, "Start writing--car, tux, corsage, shower." Boss piped in, "Add get ice coffee to it."  "What order?" Caroline asked.  "IT DOESN'T MATTER!!  HE HAS TO DO IT ALL!!" SK continued to shout.  "Mama, you've got to do something about him.  I do everything for him--make his coffee, pick up after him--he can't do anything for himself.  Fix it; I mean fix him. When you were gone I ground the beans, filled the coffee maker with water Thursday night and all he had to do was turn it on Friday morning and he didn't even do that!  What is wrong with him?"  (I thought but wisely did not say, "sounds like nothing; he's got you doing everything for him.")  She continued, "You've got to stop doing stuff for him; he can't do anything for himself.  You make his coffee.  While you were gone he just sat in that chair all sick like and said, 'make me iced coffee please.' I told him no so he says, 'you probably don't even know how to make it well' trying to use reverse psychology.  I still said no and then he said,'oh go ahead and try' AND I DID.  This is all your fault."(Somehow I knew it would come back to being my fault) "He's a little prince; I do everything for him and you are the one who taught me how to spoil people." (She has a point; I've written about it before-- I Like to do Things for Them )  Boss stood up and nonchalantly walked out of the room.  I guess we all assumed he was starting on that list...

(All this time I was texting both the girlfriend's mother and the after prom party mother grateful technology has not advanced to the point where they could hear the chaos going on--I suspect if they could have Boss may no longer have a date tonight and I'd be hosting after prom....)

Fifteen minutes later he walked back in.  I really think SK was going to have an apoplectic attack. "GO!!" and then in a fit of desperation she added, "Here's the deal if you will go right this minute I'll pick up the corsages."  And he ran out the door...

It's now 3:00 pm; we have the car, a tux, and the flowers--hoping the shower is soon.  He's calling SK the prom natzi, but I think he'll be ready.

Next Time I'm Staying Home and Sending the Credit Card

The girls came in from a run loudly declaring they needed new sports bras and running shoes.  The running shoes I believed (I think SK was still wearing hers from middle school and Caroline was wearing mine.)  I semi-doubted the sports bras until they took off their jerseys and showed me the well, lack of support these had. So Saturday came and full of fear and trembling I said, "Let's go bra shopping."

To be fair Caroline has been asking me to go bra shopping for months.  But I HATE bra shopping and I was already imagining what bra shopping would be like with my outspoken, lack of filter, 14 year old. (Yes I'm a wimp; last time she needed new bras I sent her with SK and my credit card--IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT!!!)  Perhaps I should have repeated that decision....

We walked into Target (Target on a Saturday--first mistake).  I herded them past the bathing suits and to the sports bra section.  SK seemed to be okay on her own so I said, "Caroline let's go look at the regular bras.  You only need one sports bra.  You have some that will work."  As we rounded the corner I quietly (emphasis on quietly) said, "We need to find a couple and go try them on because different styles fit differently."  "TRY THEM ON?!?!?!  I'M NOT TRYING THEM ON--THAT'S LIKE SHARING BOOBS WITH SOMEONE."  What does that even mean?  I didn't dare ask--instead I tried to reason with her--"Mama, you have lost your mind if you think I'm going to put my naked boobs on a bra that someone else has put on their naked boobs."  (I did not point out that any bra we bought could very well have been tried on by someone else....)

I looked up--relief flooded over me--back up troops were heading towards me.  Desi to the rescue. I didn't even care that she began the conversation with , "I could hear y'all clear across the store." "Desi," I pleaded with my eyes and tried to sound authoritative with my voice, "Don't you have to try on bras before you buy them."  Desi, "I don't."  Are you kidding me?!?!?  Did she miss my pleading eyes?  "But, but but," I sputtered, "What if you get them home and they don't fit?"  "You just have to buy new ones." says the single woman with NO CHILDREN TO EDUCATE.  "We're not doing that," I said as I tried to regain my maternal control (that I think I lost years ago).  Meanwhile Caroline is smiling sweetly at Desi.

Apparently Desi noticed my distress because she said, "Well you should try them on but you could do it over your clothes."  (Those words would come back to haunt us.)  I turned to Caroline who was on my right while Desi remained on my left--positioning that would become important, and said, "I think you're probably a 38 C; why don't you try to find some."  Caroline, "Why do you think that?" "Well because I'm a B and..."  I was cut off by loud uncontrollable laughter--seriously it was like a surround sound of humiliation--Desi, "Are you kidding me?  You want to be a B."  Caroline trying to speak through her hysteria, "You're a wanna be B."  "Just go find some bras."  (now that's a good come back...)

Just as Caroline was returning with a couple of choices, SK reappeared.  After hugging Desi, she looked at Caroline--"Who are you?  You cannot get that color--that is totally trashy."  (I think what she said was a little bit different but even I have some limits and would rather not repeat it...)  "Come on," she said, "I'll help you."  Flooded with relief that she was taking over I let the language go...

They returned with a few choices.  "Caroline, I am not buying bras without you trying them on.  It's my money."  (Yep, I desperately pulled out the only card I have--the wallet)  "Fine," she said, "I'll try them on."  I momentarily looked down--my head snapped up when I heard Desi screech, "She's trying them on right here.  Caroline, that's what old ladies do."  (Or Caroline I thought--told you those words of Desi's would come back to haunt us)  We finally settled on two and I sent her to find a sports bra.  "I'll see you tonight," I said to Desi, "And make sure you have plenty to drink--I may need to start now."

I decided to let Caroline pick out her own sports bra; seriously, I needed a break. How bad could it be? SK and I started walking off to finish our list--as we were walking she says, "Aren't these the ugliest bras you've ever seen?"  "Why didn't you get different colors?" I naively asked her.  "They don't make this size in good colors--this is the size old ladies wear and they don't care what they look like--or nursing mothers who are just going to throw them out anyway, or me."  I had to stop pushing the cart I was laughing so uncontrollably.."tell me I'm lying--you know it's true."  (Did I mention NONE of us speak in hushed tones EVER!!)

We kept walking and ran into just about everyone in the world we knew (and who now probably know all of our bra sizes).  Really wish I had run into one precious young man earlier--his first words to me, "Mother Katherine you all are too loud."  Amen love, amen. His mother tried to tell him that wasn't nice to say. "But you are so right," I told him thinking "I really wish we'd run into you about 30 minutes ago..."

I'd like to say that ended my humiliating shopping trip to Target, but alas I'd be lying...next time I'm just sending the credit card.  And we still have shoes to buy....

I Love My Kids-We did something right--don't know how

Just in case anyone is wondering--I didn't just become neurotic.  In fact, if anyone wants to commiserate with Chris I've been neurotic since the very beginning--and he still married me!!!  Just a quick recap--when we got married a well known (internationally known) reproductive endocrinologist told us we couldn't have children.  (He still can't believe it, but my daddy shows him pictures...)  Well, in case you've missed it--we had four in 4 1/2 years--so I guess he was wrong--or God has a whole other plan...

Well, hearing that news makes you crazy--but we got pregnant with SK fairly easily and not trying--we were a little surprised (read TOTALLY SHOCKED) and then I miscarried (a story for another blog).  We then had Christopher and I knew I wasn't done. Chris, my wonderful amazing completely supportive (emotionally and financially) husband was not quite as certain. Well, I started lobbying--and here comes the crazy me...

I started telling him about how we had to have another child.  I'm going to admit right here this is painful and an awful argument especially since I have friends who have fallen into this category, but I used as a reason to have another child that if one child died I didn't want the other to be alone--I thought they should have multiple siblings for support.  He didn't necessarily buy it, but we have two more children (Caroline will explain she is one of the  99% birth control failure rates--yes she told ALL of Collegiate 8th grade).

It's been hard; it's been financially difficult-emotionally, physically and all the other things difficult but it's also been absolutely the most life giving wonderful experience of our lives.  (An Example)

So tonight some of my neurosis has come to a positive place--I said to Boss, "I can't wait to get SK home tomorrow but I know it might be hard for you; you've been the oldest for a year.  It will be different; we have to get ready for that. Y'all might fight more than usual."  Boss, "Mama, I just want her home.  I need her home."

And then later--after SK finished her final exam of her first year (and can I just say she's Dean's list for the whole freaking year--yes I'm shouting it silently from the rooftops because she wouldn't want me to tell anyone, but I am so incredibly proud and it wasn't easy--she worked for it--) Caroline sat in the kitchen with the phone on her knee speaker on with SK and they were talking about the next few weeks.  She told her how she might go to prom with someone who might not have a date.  Boss came in from playing basketball and told us all about playing and the people who were there.  William slipped through telling us about prom dinner plans.  It was as if nothing major had happened.  As if we haven't been separated. As if this was just another night at the Doyle's.  But it's not.  We have already started the separating--we have already had one year of one of us being apart from the others and the next three years will go far too fast for me.  But for now, well for now--tomorrow I leave to get SK, and SK is connected to the others--to the ones we know as Boss, Willie Wonka, and Carolina--to the multiple siblings--to the people who make us all complete. Connected to the people who love the most regardless of dean's list, athletic awards or anything else. None of that matters we are connected just because we are family-- Tomorrow we're all together--for better or worse--as a unit--completing one another--the O'Doyle's.

I know one day they will go their separate ways, but for now we are the O'Doyle's and we did something right.

We Don't Play Board Games

Okay, I admit it; sometimes I want to be the family I picture in my mind--the slightly crazy imaginative mind.  You know the kind of family that sits around the table playing board games, drinking

This sort of looks like poker...just sayin'

lemonade and singing kumaya--you know that sweet Doyle family that smiles at one another adoringly as we patiently wait our turn. That's in my mind; we don't play many board games, (we tried when we were first married, but I may have turned over the scrabble board when I started to lose...), but I do like games, sooooo--I sometimes play manipulative games....

Last night I walked into the den where Chris and William were sitting and asked, "Okay it's been two days.  What do you notice?"  Two days ago I got my haircut (after 10 weeks of not having it cut) and then yesterday I picked up new glasses.  I really thought that would be the dead giveaway since just that morning Chris had asked me what checks I had written and I reported on the one I had written, "For the eye doctor."

They looked back and forth at each other with that look that says, "We better get this right, but we are SOOOO being set up."  I could also see their minds racing realizing they were also now in competition with one another. William hesitantly asked, "Uh, did you get a hair cut?" (See he knows how to play this game--this may not be the first time we've played it.....)  "YES! Two days ago." William looked over at Chris like, "Yeah, dude I got this one.  Ante up ponyboy!"

"I also got new glasses today." I smugly announced.  Chris trying to regain his position of man of the house who knows how to deal with women (or at least the crazy woman he married) said, "Well you have to admit the hair isn't that different, and aren't those glasses just like the ones you've had before?"  "No," I responded, "These are tortoise shell."  "So were the others," he mistakenly shot back.  "No," I said, "Those were darker." Chris decided to pull out all the stops, get out of his comfortable chair and walk over to me acting like he was gazing at the new me.  It was starting to work--but oh no--"Yes those glasses are the same.  They look just like wayfarers which you had before."  (So I guess we should give him credit for knowing what I had before, but these were clearly not wayfarers....)

He looked closely and said, "You're right and that shape is perfect for you."  He confidently walked (read strutted) back to his chair looked over at William and said, "That was pretty good wasn't it?" William looked up at me probably thinking, "Seriously what sin have I committed or will I commit that made God give me to these two lunatics?"  He looked back at Chris and said, "Nah, I think you're still in the doghouse for at least a week."  (I think he had decided he was folding his hand recognizing there was no way he was even still in the game--now he was just relishing in Chris losing.)

Chris, determined to win, gave it one last try, "See the reason we didn't notice was because your inner beauty so outshines your outer beauty--which you of course have--but the inner beauty of your heart and soul blinds us to the outer beauty."  William's jaw dropped in total amazement-- Chris looked over at him and said, "Well?"  "Yeah," William responded clearly blown away (by hot air?), "That was good."

I smiled as I turned to go to bed knowing that really I had won....as I left I heard Chris say to William, "I've still got it.  Take lessons about the ladies from me."

Just another night with the O'Doyles--we don't play board games....




Disclaimer--we all laughed throughout--it was all in fun....

I Am the Piggly Wiggly Mama

The other day I was stomping around and pouting about my lack of a clean and orderly house--I wrote about it--I Want to Be.  What I didn't write about was--well read on.....

I started thinking about how I would have NEVER left my room any way except immaculate.  I was TERRIFIED of my mother.  That petite woman could look at me, her eyelids would flutter, and I would freeze shaking in place wanting to take cover but knowing any movement would be seen as disrespect..I have no idea what I thought she would do, but I knew I didn't want to find out! (I was so terrified of her that years later when I was in a store pushing a stroller with MY two children in it I froze when I forgot to say "yes m'am" when she asked me something.  I quickly corrected myself--yep she had that kind of power.)

As I entered the bathroom I thought, I had to clean my bathroom every morning before I left for school--full out--comet the sink, glass plus the mirror, wipe up the floor--every single morning. (In college I did this everyday when I lived in an apartment with my good friends.  About half way through the year I walked in on them laughing about it.  "Why didn't y'all tell me it was weird to do that?"  Their response, "Why would we do that?  You're cleaning our bathroom every day."  Well, I thought they were my good friends....)  My children's bathrooms have spit in the sink, things left out all over, mugs next to the tub, but there are no towels on the floor because they're in their bedrooms on the floor.

Back into their bedrooms I went stepping over the clothes on the floor (dirty? clean?  Who knows but I'm pretty sure they'll wind up in the hamper instead of being put away.)  The sheets and blankets were either crumpled on their beds or also on the floor--no army inspection for them.  (My friend Lynn is still traumatized by the time she was sitting on my bed when my mother walked in--we were not allowed to sit on our beds ever!!!)  There were dirty dishes on bedside tables--multiple dirty dishes--I humphed.  How many times have I told them not to eat in their rooms or at least if they do to please bring them down?  Clearly not enough times...

In my displeasure I sent them texts hoping the texts would send terror coarsing through their bodies. Based on their responses--I didn't think they did.  (Based on the fact the same towels and dishes were still there two days later, I'm sure they didn't.)









The next morning, (the morning after my stomping and pouting) I walked into the kitchen after the children left for school.  OH NO!!! My piggly wiggly mug was sitting on the counter BROKEN!!  Who had done that?!?!?! (Caroline was safe; she was still upstairs sick in bed.) I sent the boys a text...



T

That evening all three were in the kitchen--I walked in; Boss froze and tried to hide the peanut butter jar behind his back. "Mama, I'm sorry...I couldn't find the other peanut butter.  I just took one scoop.  I'm really sorry."  (I have been known to hide piggly wiggly peanut butter in my room....I'm not good at sharing.) Just then Caroline looked down, "Who broke Mama's piggly wiggly mug?"  Me, "William did."  Caroline looked over at William silently willing him to make a run for it, "Are you crazy?!?!?! You admitted it?!?!?!"  William, "Not until I was gone."
(Who said that boy wasn't smart?) All three looked back at me and remained frozen in place, shaking but not daring to make a move....

I smiled; finally--finally I found a way to terrorize my children.  And then I started to laugh as I thought about the absurdity of the situation.  This is how I terrorize my children--not over neurotic housecleaning--over Piggly Wiggly merchandise, and then I thought, I wouldn't want it any other way.  This is Growing Up Doyle at its finest--Growing Up Doyle with a Piggly Wiggly Mama (in a house that could be mistaken for a pig's sty!)

When You Think About Marriage--A Letter to the O'Doyles

Dear O'Doyles,

I was walking by myself on the beach yesterday and started thinking--maybe it's because I won't have you all for Easter.  Maybe it's because we let Caroline go to New York with her friend (no you may

not have my debit card number--good try!) and Boss go to the beach with his girlfriend.  Seriously, what were we thinking?  Daddy even said, "I don't know about this."  I said, "My parents always let me bring my boyfriend to the beach."  To which he replied, "Well clearly there's something wrong with them."  Then I reminded him he also took his girlfriend to the beach--which is an hysterical story but one I can't tell.  I can bring home a stray dog, run up credit card bills and he won't divorce me, but I'm pretty sure if I made that story public I'd be served by Monday morning----anyway, y'all aren't all here, my heart hurts, but I know it's normal and you're growing up.

So I was walking and I remembered sitting at the dinner table one night in Lynchburg when Daddy was out of town.  Babah was with us.  SK was in 3rd grade and she asked, "Mama, would you rather me marry someone of a different race or a different religion?"  I thought to myself, "I'd rather have another glass of wine--"  She added, "And you have to choose one."  (She knew I was going to try to weasel out...)  Four pairs of eyes were intently looking at me waiting for me to impart my wisdom (that was back when y'all thought I knew everything), I swallowed hard and answered as honestly as I could. Daddy and I have always promised we'd answer any question you asked as honestly as we could--(there were some that were real doozies--remember William and the sex ones?)  "Well, first I want you to marry someone you love, but here's the thing--our faith has seen Daddy and I through a lot. Without our shared faith I don't know how we would have gotten through some of the medical issues we've had, the moves (I didn't add financial strain--you were too young, but I'll add that now). I always knew Daddy prayed about things and he knew I did.  We knew we each made decisions based on a faith we shared, so I guess I have to choose religion."

Y'all now know it's WAAAAAY more complicated than that, but I still believe our shared faith has seen us through and continues to see us through, but yesterday as I was walking I thought I need to add some more to my answer.  (I am not saying I want you to get married anytime soon despite the fact I send SK pictures of reception sites....) Here's what I want to add.  Marry someone who adores you--marry someone you adore; marry someone who makes you want to be as good of a person as they already believe you are, and make sure you marry someone who shares your priorities for life whatever they are. For us it's been education and family. You know the sacrifices we make for your education--Daddy in particular.  He's worked hard and gone without for himself.  I'm not saying it to make you feel guilty--y'all have always been appreciative, I'm just telling you that if we didn't agree--well we'd need that faith for sure because the financial strain would be--let's not think about it.

And family--last week Daddy knew I needed to see my sister, so regardless of the fact he'd been traveling nonstop for weeks, he never said a word.  (That is not to say you're marriages don't have to come first, and we try to make ours a priority) But what I really thought about yesterday was Daddy

driving to C'ville to get SK.  Some people are probably surprised that he is driving 30 hours over a 72 hour period so SK can be here at the beach with us for Easter.  I'm not surprised in the slightest.  It matters--it matters to me and it matters to Daddy.

I love you all to the moon and back and back and back and back, and y'all love each other just as fiercely (Sibling Love), but one day you may meet someone who makes your heart stop, someone who completes you in a way we never could.  I look forward to meeting those people, to loving those people, to welcoming those people into our family (they have no idea what they're getting into....and you know if Caroline doesn't like them she'll run them off within a week). So now my answer to SK's question all those years ago is more complete.

Happy Easter--I love you,
Mama

We Did Something Right--We are the O'Doyles

Chris and I aren't perfect parents; we try really hard, but we make lots of mistakes (and I'm sure if any of our four children are reading this they would be happy to post all our failures), but there is one thing I think we have done well. I don't compliment myself easily on blogs--in fact I have been accused of being too hard on myself (thank you Ben and Mary Sanders for pointing that out to me--not that I have gotten better at it, but this is a start), so even writing that sentence is hard for me.  But we have done something well--we have nurtured the children so that they have extremely close relationships.  They may fuss some with one another, but they are extremely close developing relationships with one another that exist outside of us.  They are siblings, and they are friends.  They love one another and show it every day.

How did we do it?  I'm not entirely sure, but partly we modeled it through our own relationship with our siblings--I'll never forget Chris telling a family member, "Don't even question her relationship with her sister.  I don't even go there."  And we modeled it by spending lots of time together as a family--insisting that they include one another in their lives and that they supported one another in their passions.  I suppose it could have back fired, but it didn't.  (One time in Pittsburgh when SK was 7 and Christopher 5 a girl came over to play with SK.  I thought she was sweet, but she wasn't out the door 3 seconds before SK said, "She can never come over again; she called Christopher a brat and shut the door in his face.")  This closeness has been wonderful, but it has also been painful.  As they begin to go their separate geographical ways it breaks my heart watching them negotiate their new reality as siblings.  It's why I drove to C'ville with Boss so he could spend the weekend with SK because he needed time with her.  And it's why Chris will drive to C'ville (7 hours) and then to the beach (another 7 hours) to pick SK up so she can spend Easter with us only to turn around 48 hours and do all that driving again.  Being together as a family matters and they know it.

Last year was SK's last ballet performance after 15 years.  (yep 3 years old to 18)  Louisville Ballet always has it in March right in the middle of March Madness which has always been a particularly favorite (read painful) time for the men in our family.  As soon as it was over William said, "No offense, but thank God I never have to do that again." So imagine my surprise when two weeks ago William came into my room and said, "Will you take me to the ballet show in a couple of weeks?"  I tried not to fall off the bed (that causes concussions in our family) and asked, "Why?"  "There's just something I need to do."  And that was all I heard for awhile.

Meanwhile, William texted SK--find out what time the show is on Sunday. She happily did; he asked for a pair of her pointe shoes; she gave them.   He enlisted Caroline to draw a poster

(his wouldn't be legible--we love each other but definitely know our limitations) and today we set off.  I will say that Boss was very concerned that it wouldn't go well and William would be embarrassed but as a good older brother should do, he kept his mouth shut and just supported him.  (And I would like just a little credit for going when my beloved Hoos were playing.) They came together to help William, but I will tell you, they wouldn't if they didn't want to--if they didn't think the person William was asking to prom was worthy of him. Recently I said to the four of them, "You know the chances of one of y'all marrying someone the others don't like is pretty big."  To which Caroline emphatically responded, "That won't happen.  We'll run that person off within the first week."  Fortunately we haven't had to face that yet--God help the one who comes into the Doyle life and isn't liked--remember that song, "God bless the mister that comes between me and my sister"--I think our song will be far less pleasant.  Anyway, it became a family project--and then by extension all those

friends who have become part of our family.  (Thank you McKenna and Izzy)

But what it says to me is this, it's hard as they grow up; it's going to be hard as they go their separate ways and have to negotiate their relationships as adults; it could be hard as they bring new people into our family, but we've laid a foundation.  Today showed that we are a family, a family that comes together and supports one another--goes out our way to help one another, but we are also a family that values others--we want each other to have other relationships and that we want to be part of those relationships.  We are the O'Doyles; we come as a pack, but we extend our arms in welcome and in love.  Chris and I did something right.

Just Another Morning

Woke up early to have some quiet time (and to start the laundry so basketball uniforms would be ready for tonight)---within 15 minutes Boss was up (5:15 am) wanting to talk about spring break.  Seriously this child better become a lawyer--fortunately he was interrupted by his brother who was coughing up mucous.  (Okay maybe that's not fortunate for William, but it got me out of the conversation--it's all about me.)  Told William to get in a hot shower, put the monkey bread in the oven, and began looking for medicine.  Boss, "Mama I just have a cough it's not asthma."  "This isn't about you.  I'm looking for your brother."  Boss, "It's always about me and whether I have asthma. I'm pretty sure I've out grown it."  Seriously I just wanted some mucinex for William.

Caroline entered--"Can someone crack my back?"  I told her I only knew how to do it by stepping on the back--Boss, "I can do it.  Cross your arms."  (I'm not sure this is safe, but at least he didn't bring spring break back up). Everything seemed to settle down; I sat down with my coffee and to answer an email from a friend asking me about faith and parenting (she should probably read my response with caution...).  I didn't sit for long.

Caroline, "Are you sure my uniform is in the wash?"  "YES!" I almost shouted with a tone that said how dare you doubt me while at the same time I was heading to the basement to double check.  As I passed Caroline she also began coughing.  "It's starting to sound like a TB ward in this house.  And SK is at school sounding just as bad."  Caroline, "I know.  SK gave it to me."  I was halfway down the stairs but felt the need to say, "She may have given it to you, but she didn't even see the boys."  Caroline, "Obviously you are not a doctor.  I saw her and before I showed symptoms I spread the germs to the boys."  Why I walked back upstairs I'll never know, but I did and poked my head around the corner, "You aren't a doctor either."  "Katherine, I'm in season five of Gray's Anatomy.  I'm practically 1/2 way through medical school."

I returned to the kitchen with confidence that the basketball uniform was in the dryer.  "I'll bring it to you this morning."  Boss, "Wait, bring it at lunch so Charlotte can hang out with us."  I asked what time lunch was and realized I was going to be at a lunch at the same time.  "Well just drop her off with me and then come back and get her."  "Boss, I cannot drop a 2 year old off at Collegiate."  "We'll just tell people she's shadowing.  It's never too early to start looking at your high school options."  I think he may have been serious, but we finally agreed I'd come during a break--

As I was putting monkey bread in a bag for Caroline's friend Rachel who spent the night last night Caroline asked, "Can I have some coffee?"  I reminded her I've said no every morning.  Boss, "Why can't she?"  Caroline, "She thinks it will stunt my growth.  I mean look how tiny I am.  Even these (pointing to her chest) haven't been stunted."  "Caroline!!!!"  Poor Shawn who was facing Caroline throughout will just never be the same--what am I talking about?  I'll never be the same, so I fled to the den.  She followed....

Boss came in and started putting on his cologne.  As opposed to when he was in middle school and bathed in axe, he does a good job.  I looked up and he was spraying his pants.  "What are you doing?" (Why do I ask questions?)  "They haven't been washed in a couple of days.  I only have one pair." "Go get another this weekend."  Honestly he has a car, a debit card and has no problem asking me on a regular basis to transfer money.  Caroline, "You thought he was spraying his privates didn't you?" (She actually didn't say "privates" but I do have some filter...)  Rachel's parents will never let her stay here again..

"Y'all just go!"  They all walked over, kissed me and as Caroline added,"Katherine, don't forget to bring Charlotte to us."  I hope Charlotte's ready for this....

The Clash of the Secular and the Holy--Doyle Style

It was Palm Sunday 1998 and the priest had all the children up front talking about Holy Week.  He asked, “Who knows what will happen on Thursday?” and many hands went up.  They all shared their answers.  Then he asked, “Who knows what Good Friday is?”  Only Sarah Katherine’s little 3 year old hand went up.  I moved to the front of my pew feeling so proud as only first time parents who have yet to be humiliated enough in public do.  “Yes, Sarah Katherine” he kindly acknowledged her hand.  Very proudly she reported, “It’s when the Easter Bunny nails Jesus to the cross.”  I really tried to slink under the pew, but I was holding a 3 month old and a 20 month old, so it was not to be.  The congregation burst out laughing; I turned bright red, and SK continued to sit proudly certain she had answered brilliantly.  (That was back when she didn’t think she failed everything only to get an A; I’m sure a therapist could have a field day with how that happened, and I’m sure I can be blamed.)  I remember the priest looking over at me with kindness (or was it sympathy or judgment) in his eyes as he said, “And that my fellow brothers and sisters is a wonderful example of church and culture clashing. Thank you Sarah Katherine.”

We are in the midst of the Advent season; it is a different season than Christmas, and yet culture has melded the two along with Santa, Frosty and the Heat Miser.  As parents rearing our children in the church we struggle with how to both keep the season holy and focused while all around us the frenzy of commercial Christmas churns.  And if I’m honest, I want my children to have both.  I want them to understand the holiness of Advent—the season of waiting; the miracle of Christmas and God’s amazing love AND I want them to put cookies and milk out for Santa (okay I’ll be honest we put out cookies and bourbon—Santa deserves it! Who knows he may be lactose intolerant—everyone else is these days), feed the reindeer and participate in parties.  It’s a conflict many of us face.  Here are a few ideas that have worked for our family.  I’d love to hear yours.

1.       We put our decorations up minus our tree in early December.  The tree goes up the night before Christmas Eve and is decorated Christmas Eve morning.  (For all of you with small children full of energy and impatience on this LONG day, it gives them a focus.  But beware, if you have a 3 year old Caroline she might tell your neighbor, “Having a tree up already is inappropriate.”

2.      Light the advent wreath every night at the dinner table.  Yes, the candles will be small nubs by Christmas Eve, but it will set the tone.

3.      We put our crèches out but not baby Jesus or the wise men.  Christmas morning one child places him in the manger (which is why if you have multiple children it’s a good idea to have multiple crèches—fights on Christmas morning really kill the spirit.)

4.      Use purple napkins throughout the month and then bring out special ones on Christmas Eve.

5.      Read a Christmas book every night of December and alternate between secular and holy.

6.      Leave your tree up until Jan. 6.

7.      The wise men arrive at the crèche on the morning of January 6.

8.      We used to give a gift a day for the 12 days of Christmas (but that was when a pack of lifesavers was considered a “good” gift).

Have a blessed Advent and Christmas season.  (I think SK now understands Good Friday—I’ll let you know)

And Their Mama's a Priest

A friend asked me yesterday about our "traditions" for Christmas.  I warned her--starting traditions create tradition monsters; I should know--I have four.  One year I gave them robes instead of pajamas on Christmas Eve.  You seriously would have thought I had personally ruined Christmas for the entire world.....,

Last night at dinner we began talking about Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas brunch.  The children were talking over each other about what their favorite part was.  Well everyone except Caroline who was trying to decide if she should "Swing" or "swung".  Shawn was paying attention to her and falling out of his chair laughing.  Caroline, "Why is it so funny?"  Shawn whispered to me, "I don't think she knows what that could mean."  Clearly--and I'm a little disturbed that my exchange student does. Caroline changed the subject and said, "I was so happy today.  Christopher came into the gym and announced to everyone that I'm a real baller."  My mind was not jumping as quickly as others apparently because I was just about to fuss at Christopher for calling her inappropriate names especially at school.  "Yeah," he said, "She has practice shoes and game shoes.  She's the real basketball deal."  Chris Sr., "Wait, we bought you TWO pairs of basketball shoes?"  Caroline, "Yeah I asked you for one and Mama for one."  (Perhaps we should communicate better--I'll add that to my list of topics to talk to my therapist about) but back to the meal....

I decided to try to bring the conversation back into some sort of normalcy (yeah right) and more importantly inclusivity.  So I turned to Shawn and said, "This is what we have for our meals.  Is there something special your family has for Christmas dinner?  We could add that."  Shawn smiled at me (see some people understand me) and said, "No.  We have dinner on Christmas but nothing particularly special."  Boss  began laughing hysterically, "Shawn just tell her.  Mama he doesn't have anything special for Christmas dinner because HE'S NOT CHRISTIAN HE'S KOREAN!"  I may have turned as red as Caroline's neck from The Bark Collar (yes that happened last night too), but my loving husband tried to save my dignity.  "Boss, there are Christians in Korea aren't there Shawn?"  Shawn, "Yes, we have churches everywhere."  Boss not to be deterred from making certain I understood my mistake, "Yeah but Shawn's not one of them!!!!"  Me, "But he told me  (why did I start referring to him in the third person when he was sitting right next to me?) in middle school they tried to convert him."  Shawn turned to me with a huge smile on his face, "Yeah, but it didn't work."  Welcome to the family Shawn you have officially become part of us--initiation in our house is openly laughing at the Mama.

Sweet (?) William changes the subject again, "These advent candles suck.  (I HATE THAT WORD!!!) They are burning down so fast.  What are we going to do in a few weeks?"  I responded, "It will be fine."  Caroline, "We'll just have to replace one and start advent all over. That will suck"  (That word again!!!)  "Seriously Caroline?" I interjected, "We do this every year.  Why are you acting like you don't know how this works?"  William, "What happens if we light them all tonight?  Or what if I light the pink one tomorrow night?"  Boss, "You'll probably be damned to hell."  Caroline, "Yeah you'll probably kill Jesus--hey wait Jesus already got dead."  GOT DEAD?!?!?!!  Who are you?  They began deciding who was being damned talking over one another so I'm not sure they heard me say, "But he rose again, remember oh children of mine who have gone to church almost EVERY Sunday of their lives??!?"  It's a good think I'm going to FORMA (A grassroots association of members of The Episcopal Church and kindred individuals and institutions, Forma supports, networks, advocates for, resources, and celebrates Christian formation leaders in their Christian formation ministries) in January.  Christian educators have been saying our Christian formation programs aren't working.  I really wish my children weren't poster children for that belief!!!

"I think we should clear our plates.  Ya'll have studying to do."  "Yeah," said William, "And you've ruined Christmas already because we don't have our chocolate advent calendars yet."  Fair warning--do not start traditions....