On the menu tonight...

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We live in a neighborhood that has a very large Indian population. Andwe are so lucky to have one of the finest Indian restaurants ever right here in town. When the restaurant opened, my husband was enthused about introducing our family to Indian food and we were heartily receptive to the introduction. The only drawback is that the restaurant is outrageously expensive. Patrick and I have tested several recipes at home for our family favorite main dish: Chicken Tikka Masala. This is the fruit of our testing. Perfect for the Feast of Mother Teresa tonight!

More Help Than I Can Handle

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Me: Who re-started the washing machine?

Child: Me. I thought you hit "pause" and then forgot about it, so I got it going again.

Me: No...I was soaking diapers.

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Me: Who added pasta to the boiling water?

Child: Me. I figured we were having spaghetti for dinner and you just forgot to put it in.

Me: No...we were having tortellini. And we were waiting for Daddy to call and let me know he was nearly home. I guess now we're having spaghetti. Lukewarm spaghetti.

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Me: Who pushed the plunger down on the French Press?

Child: Me. I thought you'd walked away and forgotten to finish making coffee.

Me: No, I set a timer. Four minutes. No more, no less. It's only been 2 minutes and 40 seconds.

Here's the question: Why do my children always assume I forgot??

Marrying Young

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Rebecca Teti has opened a conversation on marrying young. She's beautifully articulated my thoughts on the matter, quoting heavily from another favorite author and speaker, Frederica Matthewes-Green. In the interest of full disclosure, I fell in love hard, in high school, and married that boy when I was 21. I'm a big proponent of early marriage for all the reasons Teti has put forth. I think it can work and work very well.

As I rummage through my memory, I find that almost all the high school sweethearts I knew who married are still married. I'm sure someone who went to high school with me will write and correct me, but my early morning recollection definitely points to the successes of these early marriages. The two cases I know who divorced weren't commited at the beginning. Both brides admitted before marrying that they weren't sure this was going to work.

I don't know that I took a deliberately serious attitude towards dating (the way some circles approach formal courtship now), but I do know that there was a lot of grace sprinkled on that high school relationship (incidentally, my first real dating experience and my first real kiss). I distinctly remember talking about marriage with him when I was fifteen. We just knew right from the beginning that there was something special there.  That doesn't mean we had a straight path to the altar. We didn't. We went to separate colleges and one of us very deliberately made sure to sow his wild oats. But that grace was sufficient, more than sufficient, and marry we did, just as soon as we could.

We did grow up together. We're still growing up together--it a habit! This year, I've been married half my life--the better half, by far. I know the boy my husband was and I was there, holding his hand, as he became a man. We have history together and sometimes, it's history that gets you through the rough patches. We also had energy and youth and--frankly--hormones on our side in those early days of growing. Now, I think that perhaps the habits of affection step in and take over when energy and youth and hormones fail. We know each other. We know what works and what doesn't. It's not perfect. We still have rough patches, but time has always been on our side.

I know how much I love this man and I'm still as grateful as I was at 15 and 21 that I have a whole lifetime to live that love.

That Was a Long Day

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Yesterday was our first official "back to school" day. In all earnestness, I've been looking really forward to it. I wanted to dig into the lesson plans I spent all summer dreaming up and talking about and playing with (lots of dangling prepositions there. It's 5Am, whatever). I had plans and schedules and I was ready to roll. The day got started on time. We actually ran ahead of schedule all day long, much to my relief. I was worried I had too much planned and I don't. At least I didn't yesterday. The refrigerator guy never showed up, but other than that, everything went off without a hitch. The new, complicated afternoon driving schedule turned out to be really flawless. And actually very simple, now that it's all figured out.

So, why is it that when Mike called around three o'clock and asked how things were going, I told him I was looking for a good Catholic school or two? And why is it that he barely paid attention? Probably because this is just the way the first day always goes. It's utterly exhausting. I feel like I'm spinning plates all day long. So many, many needy children!

Who knew that Karoline would be outraged that she didn't have her own bookbag full of books and would follow me around all day long signing and saying "Book! MY book!" Yes, we gave her several old workbooks and now they all have blue Lyra circles on every single page. Not sure what we'll dig out for today. Clearly, she expects to be a full part of the book action.

Who knew that a certain child would meltdown as soon as he saw the math book? I did. And I took a deep breath. But still my shoulders tensed and my voice grew pitched. Who knew a different child would repeatedly ask how many chapters this week and would stress out loud the entire day over whether there was ample time to complete them, despite my reassurances and the eventual reminders that the asking and the stressing was wasting time? I did. Who knew another child would be reduced to tears when Ben Franklin's nose was drawn "too pointy?" I did. Who knew Katie and Gracie would be mesmerized by the school bus stop across the street--first the embarking and then the disembarking--and would spend their free time playing "real" school? Who knew how hard it would be to remember the chore schedule in the midst of the school schedule? I knew. I knew it all. We've been here before.  And still, it surprised me with its intensity.

I didn't cry. I did enjoy a good whine with a friend (the kind with the "h," though the other kind would have been appropriate, too). I did my driving thing, dropping children as I went. And then I found myself alone in Trader Joe's. For a whole forty-five minutes. As I shopped, it dawned on me that the day was full and that looking at one day after another of such fullness was indeed overwhelming. But if I stopped in that singular moment, there was peace. It's complicated, but it works. It's busy, but it's peaceful.  It's a bit pathetic that I sought and found tranquility in the grocery store, but hey, it's also proof positive that the Holy Spirit is boundless.

The first day is hard; there's no getting around it. We all chafed at losing some of the freedom of summertime.  But we're finding our groove, settling into the rhythm of a new season. We'll begin again today, making improvements on yesterday, fine-tuning our lives at home together. And we'll be ever so grateful for this opportunity to grow.