Me: Hey, remember when we watched the Royal Wedding? The Duke and Duchess are having a baby today!
Bobby: What’s he the Duke of?
Me: Wales, I think.
Bobby: The Duke of WHALES? How does that work?
|well, something like this, I’d imagine|
As it turns out he’s the Duke of Cambridge, not nearly as cool.
And to all the pooh-pah-ers on Facebook and the rest of the internets: I would like to state for the record that I LIKE THE ROYAL BABY. I suppose I should call him George, or Prince George, or His Royal Highness Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge (that last one does seem to go a bit too far). Or Stormageddon?
If you are mad that your daytime television watching was interrupted, may I suggest Tivo? Or, ya know, books? Or maybe outside?
If you are mad because they are British and we have gained our independence from their sovereign control, may I remind you that our American freedoms extend to liking even British babies if we want to, and also to turning off television sets should we not like what we see there?
And if you’d like to use this opportunity to further your cause or promote your product, even if it’s a very good cause or product, may I say, I think you’re better than that? (So does Simcha, or maybe she doesn’t.)
I think everything about it is lovely. Interrupting regularly scheduled programming for GOOD news? Yes, please. The young couple out there together introducing their baby to the people? Adorable. They seemed so happy, it really brought back all those memories of the day after my oldest son was born. We, too, were happy and tired and thrilled and bewildered. (My hair did not look that good.) I got to live it all again through them.
And how CUTE is she? I’m pretty sure she’ll never wear that dress again, right? But I’M going to have a baby in November. Maybe she’ll let me borrow it for when *I* leave the hospital?
In case you missed it, I had rather an eventful last Friday at Mass. But, lemons to lemonade and all that. Frankie and Anita and I have been having a perfectly ordinary time at daily Mass at the next parish over this week. And I’m getting some extra exercise in the morning.
We have a real love/hate thing going with the baby jogger. The kids love it. I hate it. I keep telling myself that I’m trying to get exercise anyway, and this way I’m just getting MORE of it, right? But . . .
When I go for a run by myself, I feel like this:
And when I’m pushing the baby jogger, I feel like this:
|(except wearing pants)|
So, um, hooray for mortifications.
The other nice thing that came out of all that was an awesome link-up about cry rooms.
I have really loved reading everyone’s comments and posts.
Some highlights . . .
- Amelia from One Catholic Mama put together some rules for using the cry room.
- Monica from Equipping Catholic Families pointed out that cry rooms seem to be going the way of the dinosaur anyway.
- Crystal from Four Little Ones shared her very unpleasant experience of a self-appointed cry-room-use enforcer.
- Melody from Blossoming Joy has a novel idea: charitable cry room bouncers to help parents with cry room discernment.
- Bonnie from A Knotted Life made the excellent point that if you’re looking for a distraction-free Mass, you’re going to need a lot more rooms than just the cry room. I figure we’ll need the “Cleavage and Short-Shorts” room, the “Still Loudly Saying the Old Responses” room, the “Bad Singing” room, etc, etc, etc. But, for the record, she likes her cry room and does NOT want me to fill it with cement. We’ll see . . .
And thanks to Lisa for posting this awesome flyer on the Catholic All Year Facebook page:
Really, all the posts were great, and so were the comments. The link-up is live through Saturday. So if you’ve got an opinion, come share it!
Last week, I shared the Buzzfeed post: 38 Things Catholic Girls Love but I told you I wasn’t familiar with number 24: The Dick van Dyke Show episode “The Life and Love of Joe Coogan.”
But ya’ll, I did some research up in here and watched it on Netflix streaming. And . . . they’re right. It is super-cute.
You can find it on Netflix (it’s Season 3, Episode 16) or watch it here on hulu. If you’re like me, it will make you smile. And feel even worse than you already do about having ever watched It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Jack turned eleven last month, so I’ve let him start reading the Harry Potter books. He read the first three in a week! I love overhearing him laughing to himself over on the couch while he’s reading.
We’ve had some great discussions about it so far.
But my favorite was today when Jack asked me about the Dementor’s Kiss:
can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart
are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no memory,
no…anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just —
exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever…lost.”
—Remus Lupin on the Dementor’s Kiss[src]
He wondered which would be worse, to go to Hell or to suffer the Dementor’s Kiss?
I’m pretty sure there isn’t an official Church position on this, but I’m thinking if you’re bound for Hell, existence as an empty shell is probably preferable.
And finally, I’m working on a sewing project for the first time in quite a while and I do like me some mindless telly to have on in the background while I work. So, I’ve been watching America’s Got Talent.
I have to say, that show is the perfect example of a concept I try to drill into my children from a very early age:
You CAN’T be anything you want to be just by trying really hard and having a lot of heart and painting with all the colors of the wind.
That’s not how it works.
It is amazing to me to see the gifts that God has given some people. Obviously they have also put a lot of work into it as well. But, wow. Some people are really great at dancing like robots, some people can totally karate chop through 40 cement blocks, some people can hold their breath for a crazy long time. These are clearly gifts from God. (Some gifts seem less useful than others, but you don’t get to pick.)
I could want it with all my heart and really dream big like all the cartoons say and I would still not be able to rip a phone book in half or use my foot to throw a bunch of bowls onto my own head (while riding a really tall unicycle). And I’m okay with that. ‘Cause I can do other stuff that maybe the book-ripper and bowl-tosser can’t do.
I just pray I can help my kids find what their gifts are and develop them. (And also keep them off of reality TV shows, ideally.)