Someday I’m going to have a very good household helper in Michael. Someday, when he stops doing things like, oh, I don’t know, using the can opener to try to unwrap a stick of butter.
Someday. Not today.
In the great days of yore, when I was a liturgy director, I used to put together a children’s choir every Christmas. I took kids from age 5 on up, and not until we’d started did I really connect that five-year-olds can’t read. That made for some interesting rehearsals.
This year, the docket of “choir babies” is at thirteen, ranging in age from eleven, I think, on down to just over one year old. I decided it was time to do a test run on children’s choir. So this Christmas Eve, the choir babies are singing “Away In A Manger” to allow the adults to go to Communion. Assuming it goes well, next year we’ll let them do a prelude or two and lead another something during the Mass.
So for the last couple of weeks, when Julianna gets out of religious ed at 8p.m., I take her over to the nursery where mayhem reigns supreme, and I corral the madness. Or, well, I try. Because there are those two baby/toddlers, who are banging on every known noise-making toy in the nursery and worming their way between bigger bodies to bang on the extreme upper or lower ranges of the piano. And they’re all wound up from group play, so when we start singing, it sounds something like this:
“A-WWWWAAAAAAAY IN A MANGER!”
“Whoa,” I said, diplomatically not mentioning the lack of, er, pitch in their shouted song, “are we trying to wake the baby up or sing him to sleep? Let’s try that again!”
This week, Christian and I are speaking to elementary classes at both the public and the Catholic schools about Down syndrome. I will have to write a post next week about how kids keep you humble, to wit: Julianna walks into her classroom and sees us both waiting for her, and shrieks, “Da-ee! Look evee bah-ee, my da-ee!” Then, as an afterthought: “And Mah-ee.” Daddy gets a huge hug, and then she goes straight to her seat on the carpet. Ungrateful child. All that energy I put into pregnancy and nursing you, and Daddy is the star? Puh-lease.
Speaking of Julianna, how can you resist Miss Napkinhead?
Someone shared this on Facebook last night, and I spent the entire eight minutes with tears streaming down my face, I was laughing so hard.
This week I finally reached the novel query phase. (Cue angelic chorus!) So far I’ve only sent two–I had both music and nonfiction magazine projects to juggle this week as well–but it feels really good to be here at last. And nerve racking, of course. I bounce back and forth between complacency and, um, Don Music.
In other writing news, I have a short story appearing at Page & Spine today!
Finally, did you hear about the survey the Vatican is asking the laity to fill out? It doesn’t quite read like it’s actually aimed at us, but here it is. Go forth and opine!
Vincent is the babe at the moment all smitten with Daddy. Has been since 15 mo. Wakes up and wants Daddy. All day long, wants Daddy. Much prefers Daddy to put him in bed. *sigh*
Love that video from the comedian! It had me laughing too!!!