Therefore, I told Dave 30 minutes ago that I was feeling on the edge of a panic attack at the thought of Advent. He responded with only a slight touch of sarcasm, "Why? You've gotta make the kids holy in the next four weeks?"
"Well, maybe that and I have to set down traditions that they will carry on and eventually write about on their own blogs..."
"Elena, all you have to do is survive. You don't even have to light the candles."
So, there. That's all I'm going to do this Advent: light the candles (because they happen to be ready); nothing else unless I happen to find the time and the will.
And, now, onto a story.
It was Joseph's fifth birthday on Wednesday, the 28th. I had mistakenly scheduled a chiropractic appointment for that day so I decided to combine the trip to Pembroke with supper out at East Side Mario's. Thus would Joseph have a special supper and I wouldn't have to make a cake since the servers at ESM's bring a small cake to the table if someone is having a birthday. I knew that Joseph would love a pile of waiters and waitresses arriving at the table with a blazing cake and a special birthday song sung at lightning speed.
The best laid plans of mice and men.
To really set up this story we need to backtrack to lunch on Joe's birthday. One of the advantages of Dave teaching at the kids' school is that he can visit their classrooms and, among other perks, easily take them out for lunch on their special day. Therefore, he and Joe decided that a trip to Subway would be a good idea for a birthday lunch. So, the excited birthday boy had his first meal out of the day: a sub, a really big orange juice and a bag of Doritos. These are all foods that he doesn't regularly eat.
He traipsed back to school brewing with excitement (and foreign-to-his-tummy foods) and, after the school day, arrived back home with his siblings for the hour trip to Pembroke. I had called the restaurant earlier that day to reserve a table and let them know that we were celebrating a birthday. They booked the small room at the entrance for our party of eight.
After the back-cracking we headed over to the restaurant to continue the birthday celebrations. Joe was determined to have pizza for supper rather than his standard chicken fingers and fries. He was also equally determined not to eat anything until his pizza arrived. He did, however, feel the need to drink glasses and glasses of water. The word copious comes to mind. In a multi-tasking sort of motherly way I noted out of the corner of my eye that he was imbibing large amounts of liquid (both water and chocolate milk) as he waited for his order. My brain wondered at this but my hands were busy with nursing the baby and helping to keep order.
The meals arrived and Joe dug into his personal pizza while Jacob looked on dismayed by the difference in size between his hamburger and his brother's pizza. The waitress came in several times to take plates, refresh drinks and check that all was well. At one point I asked her if she could bring a pitcher of water as Joe was eyeing up my glass. She brought the water to the table and removed the last of the empty plates. My mind registered that the restaurant staff would soon arrive with the cake and the song. Curiously a memory from a few years ago popped into my mind. When Isaac was 3 months old I went to Halifax with him leaving the rest of the kids at home with Dave. When I arrived back Dave and all the kids came to the airport to pick me up. It was the supper hour so we went to eat at East Side Mario's. Half way through the supper Joseph, then only three years old, suddenly threw up on the floor of the restaurant. It was an interesting welcome home. It was this memory that I was about to ask Dave if he recalled when I noticed that Joseph was looking a little strange.
I realise now that the memory was to this story what the thought that the phone is about to ring just before it does is to the phone ringing. (Did you get that? Because I didn't.) Not only was Joseph not his normal cheery, almost too-excited sort of guy, he was looking a little strange, a little volcanic. His face said, "Something odd is going on in my stomach and I don't like it." My motherly instincts quickly realised that vomit was imminent and I quickly told Dave, "Tell them to cancel the cake!" At this point Jacob, who was watching at the door of the room, yelled, "The cake is coming!"
And then Joe's face contorted and his spine did that snake-like movement that provides only seconds warning that stomach contents are on their way up. With lightning speed I scanned the table to see if there was anything into which he could throw up. Without a thought my right hand (my left was holding the nursing baby) grabbed the empty water jugged and whipped it under Joseph's chin. I wasn't fast enough to catch all of the vomit but I was able to catch the majority of the up-chucking. The rest landed on his pants completely soaking him.
And then the cake arrived and the upbeat song suddenly sounded frantic and Dave ordered, "Just smile and pretend it didn't happen!" Except that no one heard him. (Or no one obeyed.) Ben kept yelling, "Joe threw up! Joe threw up!" Joseph had a look of complete devastation on his face as the cake was placed before him and I started to laugh and try to mouth to the servers that the birthday boy had suddenly gotten sick. The servers didn't read lips and they asked questions like, "Is he OK? Is he scared by the song? Did he not like his meal?"
And they just kept singing and I started to laugh as I caught the words to the song:
"It's your birthday and we hope your feeling fine!"
Dave went into clean-up mode and tried to mop things up with baby wipes which he deposited in the water jug (where else?) and then discreetly emptied in the bathroom. He also took Joe to the bathroom in attempt to complete the clean-up. Joe, being absolutely soaked, insisted on walking like a stiff mummy in order to avoid rubbing his legs against his jeans. Dave, being the type who likes to avoid all attention, kept telling him, "Just walk normally." Joe just looked up with no words but a question in his eyes: What is normal?
We did make it out of the restaurant with both the birthday boy and his cake. He recovered so quickly that he was begging to eat his cake only five miles out of town. I don't know if I have learned anything from this debacle. At least we can laugh.
p.s. The kids just piled in the door from school. Sarah had a bad night last night and thus I woke a little late this morning. By the time I emerged from the bedroom the kids were already dressed in their outdoor gear. Thus, it is only now at the end of the day, that I notice that Joseph wore a tie and shirt to school. With camouflage pants.
2 comments:
Great story about Joseph. Well, awful in it's happening, funny in your telling (as usual). Maybe good mothering is just the ability to laugh at things that weren't funny at the time. Anyway happy birthday Joseph, and happy (upcoming) birthday to you.
As far as Advent and what the Blogosphere is doing can I just give a big Pffffftt. You're spot on in decrying the messes that all these themed crafts and baking whatnot generate. Now sure, if you get a thrill from these things (not the messes, the crafts and/or baking) then throw your heart into them. But if they just frustrate you with the clutter and so forth, DON'T BOTHER. It's not worth losing your peace.
Plus, sometimes the "doing" of stuff distracts from the living/believing/internalizing of it all. I think of my dear Leila Lawler, She who Should be Every Catholic Mom's Next-door-Neighbour, and her wise post on Advent:
"As I go around reading ideas about how to celebrate Advent, I cringe just a little on the emphasis on activity for its own sake.
We so desperately,and with such good intentions, want to teach our children certain things, that we have forgotten that learning is a process that's accomplished with a good deal of mystery. If this is true with seemingly straightforward facts like the multiplication table, how much more so with things of the faith."
And then:
"The simple act of lighting a candle in the home, if done peacefully and attentively, can open the door to wonder. Wonder is at the heart of Advent.
We can get frazzled and feel that we're not doing enough, that our children don't understand enough. Really, their understanding will grow with each year that they experience the same beautiful, simple rituals at home and at Church."
Especially with so much else on your plate right now, just do a few small Advent things, and I mean, small -- light the candle, take them to Mass (just on Sundays, really. There's a whole lot to absorb there: the readings, the different colour vestments, the distinct hymns) -- and take courage that these things teach way more than say, Christ Child lap books (someone tell me what a lap book is, please).
That's just my two cents.
I, too, am going totally bare-bones with our Advent celebrations this year. In our Advent calendar each day is simply a name. Turns out that between our family, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, there are exactly 24 of us. So each day we have a different family member to pray for. We have candles - but still no wreath. We have two nativity sets out, one of which the children are allowed to play with as we act out the story of the first Christmas. I *hope* they'll find something in their boots the day after tomorrow. Other than that, I'm too tired with gift-making/gift-buying and gestating to get crafty and creative.
Maybe next year. Or - maybe not.
(It may make me a terrible person, but I laughed at your telling of the vomit story. Reminded me of Simon vomiting repeatedly during our late-night flight to Halifax for my grandmother's funeral in July.)
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