Leprechaun Hunting

Dear Over-achieving Parents:

 I don’t appreciate you.  With your nonstop crafting, your way over-the-top-excessive gift-giving…You make my already difficult job (as a self-proclaimed Slacker Mom) even more challenging! 

Sincerely,

Jenny

It’s just gotten to be too much.  Enough!  Stop the madness!  The kids come home from school with stories about what the Tooth Fairy brought their classmates.  And I’m not just talking about the money (which is, in my opinion, always too much).  The Tooth Fairy leaves notes and fairy dust and little tiny sparkling footprints and on and on and on.  But now the madness has carried over to St. Patrick’s Day. 

On St. Patrick’s Eve, Zachary calls me into his room and excitedly shows me two notes.  He’s written one for Matthew and one for Kayli.  They are from leprechauns and each note has a quarter attached to it.  Zach points out how he ‘disguised’ his hand-writing so that Matthew and Kayli wouldn’t realize who they were actually from.  Well, he kept the secret for all of 4.8 minutes and then brought Matthew into his room to show him.  So, together, the boys stealthily left the note on the floor of Kayli’s room while she slept.

St. Patrick’s Day arrives and we’re greeted with two emotional extremes – Kayliana is beside herself with excitement that she got money and a note from a “what are the little guys called?” – she kept having to ask.  I look at Zach to see if he’s thrilled that his plan worked.  His face, on the other hand, is the epitome of depression mingled with angst.  After Kayli goes upstairs, Zach starts crying.

“Even though I did the notes.  I thought leprechauns were real, but I didn’t get ANYTHING!  I think it’s just parents and you guys probably do the Tooth Fairy too!”  Fearing that the downward spiral was about to begin (and having just gone through our first Christmas with Matthew knowing ‘the truth’ (http://www.jenny524.blogspot.com/2014/11/growing-up.html , I was very quick to nip it in the bud. 

“You know, I’ve lived my whole life and never saw a leprechaun and certainly never received anything from one.  They’re sneaking little guys.  K, time to get ready for school!”  Thankfully, my distraction tactic managed to work for once.

After school, Zach gets home and is the walking opposite of his morning-somber-self.  “Mom!!  I was wrong!  Leprechauns wouldn’t have come last night!  They come ON St. Patrick’s night!  I’m going to work on building a leprechaun trap!” 

Crisis diverted….I guess??

While he worked on his trap, I found some info on leprechaun folklore to read to the kids.  Stressing the parts about leprechauns being tricky little guys…rarely-if-ever seen by humans. 

I also pointed out that not one article said the leprechaun would leave money or presents.  (The story goes, they only leave gold IF they have the bad luck of actually being spotted by a human).

I asked Zach if he’d still believe in leprechauns even if his trap didn’t work again (he’d built one last year).  “I don’t even know if they actually come inside our house,” I pointed out.  He assured me that a.) Yes, they come in houses because, of course, kids at school had reported finding all sorts of treasure and b.) Yes, he’d still believe even if there was no leprechaun proof.

After Zach built his trap and got it all set up, Matthew came downstairs and quietly said, “Mom, I’m concerned that Zach’s believing in this so much.  We don’t want him to be disappointed when there’s nothing in the trap in the morning.  Can we like write him a note or explaining ‘the truth’ or just leave him some money so that he keeps believing?!”

I explained my genius plan: Do Nothing.  He looked at me incredulously.  (I feel like after having me as a mom for years now, he should be unsurprised to my ‘set their expectations as low as possible’ approach to parenting.)

“Matthew, the more we do, the more involved we get and elaborate this becomes, the harder it is to maintain.  We want him to keep believing because of his imagination and faith…And we (I) certainly don’t want to make more work for (myself) in the future!”  So, he dropped it and we did nothing…or so I thought.

Mike told me later, that he snuck into the trap (through the ‘decoy trapdoor’ that Zach had put on top) a little Lego leprechaun that he’d made.  I wasn’t sure if I liked this plan or not.

Come morning time, Zach woke Kayli up and the two eagerly inspected his leprechaun trap.  He very quickly decided that the trap door had definitely been messed up a little bit.  He was quite certain his ‘gold’ (a.k.a. gold duct tape wrapped around a scrap of paper) had done the trick in getting a leprechaun’s attention in the first place.  He looked down into the trap (where glue had covered the floor of the box in the hopes that poor Mr. Unsuspecting Leprechaun would get stuck) and saw the little Lego guy. 

I held my breath, sure that he’d immediately jump to a “Mom! YOU did this!” conclusion.

“That. Sneaky. Little. Guy!”  Zachary declared, shaking his head in utter disbelief.  “He totally snuck in my room and made a little leprechaun Lego guy to leave as a decoy!  Ha!”

And then we moved on.  He just accepted this with complete childlike wonder and faith, never for a second questioning.  PHEW.

The leprechaun trap is still set-up on the stairs.  I think he’s still hoping for a catch.

Saint Joseph

So, I’m a pretty big Saint Joseph fan – and by that, I mean the man, not just the church (although that happens to be our parish too and I like it as well; I’m just currently discussing the guy).  I’ll admit that, selfishly, my pro-St. Joe-ness started when we were trying to sell our house.  Desperate for a sale, I finally caved under the pressure and suggestions (the last one coming from a priest!) to do the ‘ol hokey – bury poor Saint Joseph (a small statue version) in your garden deal.  And, yep, it did work, although, I think a.) the house would’ve sold eventually anyway and b.) it’s faith and trusting God’s plan that helps, not the belief in some superstition. But praying is always comforting and asking for prayers from friends – and friends in high places (Saints!) – is never a bad thing!

Once a month, we have Adoration at St. Joe’s – keeping a round the clock vigil in church with the Blessed Sacrament.  I like to sign up for a butt-crack-of-dawn time and this month scored the 5am-6am time slot meaning I was up at the ungodly (sorry) hour of 4am.  Kayli actually had me up at 3, and I didn’t sleep much after that knowing that I’d have to get up soon.  I think, honestly, being tired adds to the experience.  Once I’m in the quiet church, with only the sound of the holy water font bubbling behind me, and the darkness coming through the windows enclosing me, it’s very easy to get into a slight form of “St. Joseph’s Prayer.”  Through His angels, God chose to speak to St. Joseph when he was asleep; therefore, nodding off while praying is merely slipping into prayer the way St. Joe did!

Friends of ours from Engaged Encounter, go to Adoration weekly on Mondays from 4-5am.  Maureen said that because it’s so stinkin’ early in the morning, she often feels like she has ‘God mostly to herself.’  I love that. 

There are supposed to be two people signed up for every hour – that way you’re never alone in the church or there’s at least someone else there, if the other person oversleeps/can’t make it.  When I arrived at 4:50, there were three people in the church.  Shortly after 5, they all left and I had the church – and Jesus – completely to myself for nearly an hour.  I feel like saying ‘it was magical’ is pretty lame, but it basically was.  (Movingly spiritual or spiritually moving would probably be more appropriate.)

Towards the end of my hour, I started thinking about St. Joseph…which now, so often, makes me think about my dad.  After dad died, the boys even commented that ‘D-dad’ was like St. Joseph – he was a worker.  As I thought about it I had a sudden image of St. Joseph and my dad – sporting his ‘work clothes’ (old paint-splattered jeans, grubby sweatshirt, blue coat) – working together.  Side by side.  Just chillin’ in Heaven building stuff like total buddies.  I couldn’t help but smile.  After a bit, I pulled out my Kindle – and went to one of my faves – some of Pope Francis’ homilies from Lent last year.  (Um, pretty much love that guy more than life itself.)  I just started at a random one and what was the whole thing about?  Yup.  Saint Joseph.

I read: “Jesus is born and lives in a family, in the Holy Family, learning the carpenter’s craft from St. Joseph in his workshop in Nazareth, sharing with him the commitment, effort, satisfaction and also the difficulties of every day…St. Joseph also experienced moments of difficulty, but he never lost faith and was able to overcome them, in the certainty that God never abandons us…”

Stuff I love about Joseph: I love – especially as an adoptive parent – that St. Joseph is the foster and adoptive father of Jesus.  I love that Joseph is called “the terror of demons.”  (Boom! Take THAT scary stuff!)  I love that St. Joe is a worker and, in his example, we should see our work not as monotonous chore, but as a gift that we’ve been given and that we can perform with a happy heart. 

In most any St. Joseph prayer, we ask him to pray that we might have “the grace of a happy death,” that he “assist me at the hour of my death;” that “I might merit to die as you (St. Joseph) did in the arms of Jesus and Mary.”  Obviously, I can’t help but think of my dad and – knowing how devout he was – and feel such comfort.  My dad had a beautiful, grace-filled death.  He was working for the church (WORKING – in his grubby work clothes).  Thank you, St. Joseph.

All of these thoughts were swirling in me as I finished my hour of Adoration.  I could NOT stop thinking about St. Joseph and feeling this strong connection to him and between him and my dad.   There’s a stand in the back of the vestibule that has audio books/presentations.  I always check them out after Adoration to see if there are any good ones.  In the very middle of the CD’s, one just happened to jump out at me.  In huge bold letters it said, “St. Joseph.”  Ha!  Guess that’s the one I’ll pick up this month!  Next to the CD stand, there was a basket full of prayer cards: “Solemnity of St. Joseph, March 19^th” with a picture of St. Joseph and Jesus.  The back of the card has the beautiful prayer that starting on – oh! March 10^th – can be said for 9 days as a Novena.  As I finally made my way out of the church, there was a big sign for the “St. Joseph Feast Day – Parish Dinner!”  OK, I hear ya. 

I was telling Mike about this and said that I’d really love to have a small St. Joseph statue for in the kitchen.  He pointed out that he knew where one was buried!  Rather than, under the cloak of darkness (and an act of total weirdness), digging up the guy we left in the backyard at the old house, the Easter bunny will be bringing me a new, fresh St. Joseph.  I found one that I love and that will, of course, also remind me of dad.  St. Joseph even has on HIS work clothes – robes and apron – and is holding a couple of tools.

I’m a big fan.  

Spring!

A momentous occasion is upon us: my blog (the word document in which I type before posting here) has reached 500 pages.  FIVE HUNDRED SINGLE SPACED PAGES…all about me.  Narcissistic much?!  Plus, it’s nearly 9 years old.  I started my hospital bed rest to keep Zachary cookin’ on March 12^th, 2006.  And thus, this blog was born.  (And the kid was born seven weeks later). 

My, a lot has changed in our lives during these last 9 years, these 500 pages.  I should probably print it out since it’s my journal that our children will – I’m sure – cherish someday.  But printing 500 pages of my mental diarrhea seems like a pretty hefty amount of tree-killing to embark on.  (EmBARK…trees…Dad would be proud – or embarrassed – of my horrible pun-attempt.)  Besides, I’m sure by the time I’m dead and gone, the kids can just have my blog scanned into their brains or something.

So many changes.  Mike and I have talked a lot recently about how we feel like we’re right in the middle of massive change.  We’re entering a new chapter in our lives.  The kids are almost all school-aged, mostly civilized humans and somewhat-sorta-a-little-bit-more independent.  (Kayliana still acts like a wild animal half the time, but she’s cute and house-trained at least).  Mike’s just (one week in) – started a new job, his dream career of software engineering for video games.  He came home the first day, grinning from ear-to-ear like a kid in a candy store.  My music class biz and silly attempts at being a princess (lame plug: www.littleditties.us ) is starting to pick up.  I will soon have three Montessori schools (with multiple campuses), Kayli’s preschool, a community center and a library gig all underway.  And I have 3 birthday parties tentatively scheduled – one as me (doing my dinosaur-themed music for a 2 year old boy’s birthday) and two as Elsa.  Exciting times!

Matthew – our 5 pound baby peanut – is now 5 foot 3 ¾ and checks almost every morning to see if he’s finally met my whopping height of 5 foot 4.  We wear the same shoe size now.  He leaves tomorrow for three days of 5^th grade camp, and while the boys bicker on a daily basis, Zachary has already said several times, “I’m going to miss Matthew.”  And Kayliana cried when Matthew told her he’d be gone for a few days.

As I write this, I face our living room window and our pink blossom-filled cherry tree.  The daffodil bulbs my dad brought back from our beach house a couple of years ago are up and open, BOBbing in the breeze.  (That one is totally for you, dad.)  While it's not officially here, Spring has sprung super early in Seattle this year, and a season of change has definitely come for our family as well.