Weekend In Review

Looks like we're settling in for a rainy day. The children are squabbling and shouting. Romulus is trying to make a World Cup out of femo and not particularly succeeding. Not being one to over inflate their egos, I just poured cold water on his belief in himself and told him he had to work on it a lot more before I'd be willing to turn on the oven. Earlier, well, yesterday, I let an older girl from church play with my dollhouse. But then I didn't immediately put it away, like an idiot, and so Gladys carefully and quietly got into it and shattered the glass cover of my tiny Belgian clock. I'm so upset. I'm petty sure AC Moore isn't a purveyor of Belgian Dollhouse Furniture. The two little girls are wandering around naked and screaming. I love Monday Mornings.

Anyway, I think the weekend overall was fine. Romulus turned eight. He enjoyed himself very much, even though he had to help clean up the house a little bit ahead of his “party”. He played, ate cake, opened a lot of presents, generally seemed pleased with himself. Ever after the baby has been asking when we are going to Romulus' “party”. So finally I picked her up and swayed back and forth to 'Desperado waiting for a train' and she seemed happy that it had finally arrived. I'm really glad the birthday season is over for a month. So so so so so so so so so glad. As they get older the negotiations are getting longer, the expectations growing into great big clouds of certain disappointment, the lists of things they want shrewdly considered. Gone are the days of happy little people swatting balloons and clapping their fat little hands in delight. Not only the birthday child has to be considered, now, but the attitudes of all the other children who invariably turn into little black rain clouds, counting and measuring their own upcoming or previous birthdays, whether or not they had to do chores on that special day, how there's a big pile of stuff that should be “coming to them” (“where's mine?!” their spirits brawl), all the many ways you've failed them as their mother.

Nevertheless, a birthday is a necessary evil in the economy of a large-ish family. Individual children need to have a fuss made over them. Other children need to learn graciousness and agape. Ceremonial cake needs to be eaten, however ugly it looks and weird it tastes. So we carry on, and try not to fuss too much.

Then, on Sunday, we threw our first ever Good Shepherd Staff Party. All the people who are working hard in the church and getting a little something in the way of financial compensation for it, and their spouses and children, plus some extra children that sort of just come home with us a lot after church, gathered for an alfresco luncheon. As in, I forced everyone to sit outside in the sun. But Matt somehow made a fan blow on us all, and he did all the cooking, and coffee making, and I sat around and waved my hands wildly, talking too much, as I do on Sundays after church.

If you'd told me ten years ago that instead of doing all the work ourselves, forever, that someday we'd have really lovely interesting people sharing in the labor, I would have wept at the idea and then not believed it, because God doesn't love us that much. Except that he does.

So, I will now turn my attention to some stacks of things I need to do, and wish you all a Happy Monday, and hope that God loves you as much as he loves me, though, it's hard to imagine how that is possible.