happy birthday and holy crap

My oldest, Sophia, is thirteen today. Thirteen. Do you understand what that means? Only seven more years until she is allowed to have a Facebook account. Wow.

Happy birthday, Sophie!

Assumption

Yesterday, before Mass (Feast of the Assumption), our oldest was asked if she wanted to be an altar server. We questioned the wisdom of it. But she was interested and our priest and the other altar server said they'd keep track of her. She did great. But there was that one moment.

Next to the chair where our priest sits are three stools for the acolytes. When Sophie first sat down on hers she was expecting a chair back. Yeah. It really happened. She rolled off the stool backward onto the floor. All you could see were her legs kicking back and forth behind the stool as she tried to right herself. It was quite funny, but I kept a straight face and made sure she wasn't embarrassed to tears. When she got up, she was red, but had a grin on her face and took it in stride. She did great, and I was very proud.

Nonchalance in the Midst of Great Chalance

Sophie is testing all week, per our state's requirement for homeschooled kids. Now, in our neck of the woods, parents are allowed to administer the tests themselves. I appreciate this because it trusts me. The downside is that today while administering a math test, I was nearly driven into apoplexy as I watched my child marking, left and right, the wrong bubbles. I was staid, and remained so. Nonchalant. But how utterly maddening to know that she knows better and then to be forced to watch her record one incorrect answer after another. It was as if she were punishing me.

I quickly determined (with my razor-sharp intellect) that it would have been wise to use a practice test, in order to provide some strategies for taking such tests - like the ins and outs of using scratch paper. (Apparently there is a difference between telling something to a child and actually having her do it.)

Oh! how I need a vacation.

Sophie's First Communion

As I promised, here are a few pictures. Except for some group photographs with the other first timers, nearly all the pictures we took today are in the slideshow in the sidebar. The yellow-haired child demanded some equal time.

A Good Morning

My oldest daughter, Sophie, is receiving her first Holy Communion tomorrow. Her grandmother made her dress; she's going to look beautiful. Her last practice is tonight, and then in the morning she's going further into the life of the Church. We're excited for her, as you can imagine. It's going to be quite a liturgy. Pray for us.

In the afternoon, I will try to post some pictures of her in her dress.

Funny story: Monday night, at her last practice, the first-time communicants practiced going forward, and they received unconsecrated bread and wine. When Sophie got back to the pew she sat down next to me and shuddered. She looked at me, grimaced and said, "That wine don't taste very good."

Like Dull Narcotics, Numbing Pain

My six-year-old daughter arrived home from school today with a red ribbon on her dress. My eight-year-old daughter said, "Did you win something, Anna?"

"No," she said.

"Then what is that ribbon for?" Sophie said.

"I don't know," said Anna.

Hey, School, message received.

Update

It's our 22nd day of homeschooling. We're learning things. Mostly me. I think my daughter has a classic case of predominately inattentive ADHD. We're thinking about getting her tested, but more on that later. Pray for me to be full of understanding and kindness. All that being said, she's doing a great job. I'm very proud of both Sophie and Avery.

The Girl in the Masthead

Sophia Grace is eight years old today. She's beautiful. And, as always, I can't believe it. I don't know why I continue to say, "I can't believe it." But I can't. Time and the growth of your children are difficult concepts to grasp hold of.

She is boisterous and loud. Her feet are nearly the size of her mother's and her heart is twice the size of mine.

Sophie is the embodiment of innocence, of childhood. Her heart is like a flower, beautiful and fragile - and it needs a gentle and good gardener.

Pray for me, that I can be gentle and good for her.

In a few weeks, as school ends, I'll be spending far more time with this growing girl, who I'm in love with. June 21 is her last day of school. Her last day. Laura and I have made the decision to educate Sophie at home. Personally, I'm terrified and excited all at the same time. Her education is going to demand more of me. But nothing I'm not willing to give.

Let me explain why we've made our decision to keep Sophie out since Laura is a teacher at her school. Sophie is entering third grade next year - a big testing year with a lot of meaningless and useless teaching to test. (Don't deny it, it's the truth.) Sophie will never shine with that kind of impersonal rigor. She's simply not made for it. (Are any of us?) Her first year at school, in first grade, she had a wonderful teacher who nurtured her, who came alongside her and encouraged her. Sophie blossomed and learned a great amount - she had a great deal of catching up to do. This year her teacher is far more task-oriented, education- rather than child-centered. (Don't confuse the two.) Sophie has withdrawn and her education has suffered because of it. She struggles to get up in the morning. She becomes physically ill on Sunday nights. She is made fun of at school.

Sophie loves people - the concept of "stranger" does not exist in her brain. She believes the teller at the bank or the girl in the drive-through window wants nothing more than to know about her exciting news, whatever it might be. She has no concept of the darkness of the human heart - or the natural cruelty of children. That's not to say she is perfect and angelic, or that she never hits or yells or manipulates. She does. All the time. But she understands reaction. What is difficult for her to comprehend is cruelty without provocation.

I want her to be more fully who she is again. So we've decided to make the step. I ask for your prayers both for her and me. This undertaking is new for us, but I'm convinced it's the right decision.

Lumpy McLumpypants

So I'm standing in the underwear aisle at Wal-Mart, Sophie and Anna in tow. As I'm examining all my choices, Sophie points at one of the models in skivvies and says, "Daddy, what's that lump?"

"A potato," I reply.

She screws up her face and says, "Huh?" I hurriedly grab a package (of underwear) and scurry off to another section of the store.

Sacrament of Faith

Sunday, my children were baptized into the Body of Christ. Their heads still smell of balsam.

Sugar and Spice

This morning, Laura was writing some school notes in her notebook when Sophie, our oldest, came up to her and asked, "Mommy, are you writing in your diarrhea?"

Meanwhile, I was run out of our bathroom by the yellow-haired child in her footed, Hello Kitty pajamas. As she peeled off the warm, powder-blue pj's, she demanded that I Get Out so she could use her toilet.