Last night I started a post about my day yesterday -- in it I said that when my MIL came and took the boys to a pumpkin farm for the day I climbed in my skid steer loader (my imaginary skid steer loader) and began shoveling out my messy messy home. I ended up trashing the post because no matter how satisfying I found it to take care of every last bit of laundry (save one pair of striped socks that escaped my notice) and wash all the dishes and make black bean-tempeh chili with finely ribboned kale and diced winter squash (which was not so tasty in spite of its nutritional powerhouse-ness) and pay the bills and polish the stove top (our apartment has the coolest vintage stove which I had allowed to get grungy -- now it gleams again) and level the mountain of papers on the dining room table -- no matter how good that felt, it does not make for a very interesting read.
But today I have to tell you that I should not be trusted with heavy machinery, even the imaginary kind. This morning I got up and ground the coffee beans. I put in fresh water and pushed the button -- and a few minutes later poured myself a cup of the most disgusting coffee imaginable. The reason? I forgot to put the beans INTO THE FILTER BASKET, so today's coffee was made with yesterday's grounds.
And to think I closed up the computer and went to bed so I could be well-rested today. If this is well-rested, I shudder to think what fatigued might look like.
Yesterday I also walked over to church to register my oldest with the religious ed program, because today is the Rite of Enrollment for children preparing for First Communion. (I should have done this weeks ago, but I have been shoving aside all non-essentials while I wait for my retching to abate. Which still hasn't happened, but at least it's diminishing.) After signing a form promising not to teach my children to worship Baal, accompanied by some other attempts at dispersing the cloud of suspicion surrounding parents who do religious ed at home, I was allowed to write a surprisingly large check and take home the books used in the first and second grade curriculum.
Because I am a drama-prone perfectionist, homeschooling inspires regular bouts of handwringing in me. I'm not doing enough! It's not fun enough! Am I really helping them to fulfill their potential? When I spoke to her on the phone, the DRE was pointedly skeptical about whether I could prepare my son adequately at home for such an important thing as First Communion. I considered typing up a summary of what we've done together for religious ed, but I decided I'd wait for her to ask. As I was walking I was reviewing it in my mind, hoping it was good enough.
Now I have hesitated a little to post about this because it will be easy for me to sound snarky or boastful, but I am going to say it anyway: I am shocked by the (lack of) content in these books. St. Peter said that young Christians should receive "spiritual milk" -- this is neither milk nor meat but pablum.
It has activities like filling in the blanks: "They'll know we are C________ by our l_____." If I were a kid given a worksheet like that, I would only want to be subversive. They'll know we are centipedes by our legs. Consiglieri by our Lugers. Chitterlings by our loathsomeness. Ugh.
As I was walking to church I was thinking about tucking Alex in the night before. We started talking about an article in the paper on a local hospital, recently purchased by a Catholic organization. The resulting changes had drawn some criticism, and he and I were talking about why Catholic hospitals do things the way they do. He wanted to know: why can't they dispense methotrexate for ectopic pregnancies if the baby is going to die anyway? So we talked about it: how do you balance the right of an embryo to die a natural death with a woman's right to protect her future fertility? And then he examined his conscience and we made an Act of Contrition together. We prayed the Canticle of Simeon and I kissed him goodnight.
As I walked home I shook my head at myself for worrying earlier. And I felt a little sad about the state of catechesis, that activities like "Joseph and Mary found Jesus in the temple. Can you find seven umbrellas in this picture?" pass as quality religious education.
</pompous>
The younger boys and I are going to head to the farmer's market now and afterward I will make a salad to take to our friends' house for dinner after the Rite of Enrollment. Note that it is only a salad I am offering to prepare. If I can't even make coffee today, imagine what might happen if I tried to bake a cake.
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