I'm shot. Thursdays always do this to me, mostly due to the school/therapy circuit. Even with my careful planning, I still never seem to have enough time for doing the essentials like
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Therapy was good today. The Boy has been eating his lunch with his therapists, which he calls his "picnic," and today he even licked his top lip. That's big news in these parts! He is developing more every day, and it's amazing to watch his brain work. He and Baby Girl were with me at Ash Wednesday mass yesterday, and he decided to get ashes on his head this year. This was a big change from last year when he burst into tears and said, "I don't like those asses" as I was getting my ashes. Lordy!
I had no intention of forcing him to get ashes, I always leave that decision up to him, but I was still surprised when he agreed. (This is the child who cannot stand one drop of glue or paint on his hands, or a crooked seam in his sock, or a flickering light bulb, etc) While Father was marking my forehead, The Boy pronounced loudly, "I want ashes too, please. I like ashes!" Then, on our way back to our pew, he said, "Ooo, Mom, your ashes look so pretty!" To make things even more interesting, he started stimming a bit since he wasn't properly modulating all of the sensory input. His stim of choice for church seems to be humming/repetition of words or phrases. So as I tried to concentrate on my prayer, all I could hear was The Boy tapping his finger on the pew and repeating, "Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return." Someone please tell me this is how John Paul II started!
(The all time winner for embarrassing Ash Wednesday comments still goes to Older Girl. When she was 3, I took her to Ash Wednesday mass, and when we got to the front, she loudly cried out, "I don't want that dirt on my head!")
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I've gotten more comments than I expected about my Lenten fast from unnecessary purchases. It's interesting how many of my friends (bloggy and non-bloggy alike) have decided to do the same kind of thing this year. Birds of a feather flock together?
I will admit that one of the reasons I chose not to give up a food this year is because I am already on a fairly strict meal plan for weight loss. I already forgo many desserts and sweets, so it seemed to me that giving up food would be an easy out. It's like someone who has never smoked saying they are giving up cigarettes for Lent.
Rob and I also talked at length about the nature of my Lenten fast, and which purchases are considered necessary and which can wait. Sometimes the distinction is not as clear as I thought it would be. I don't consider myself to be a shop-til-you-drop kind of gal, but I have never been so tempted to want stuff than since I made my decision about Lent. All of a sudden I am noticing how much I want to get new curtains for the kitchen, or how all the magazines at the checkout stand seem to have articles that I want to read, or how my sneakers are pinching my toes while I'm on the treadmill. I certainly don't need to buy any of these things immediately; I just find it interesting that I seem to want them so much right now. What's that about only wanting what you can't have?
And just to continue in the vein of randomness, I feel the need to tell you that I am just now hitting the "publish" button, even though I started this post on Thursday and it is now Sunday. How's that for losing track of the time? I've got to get my act together, people . . .
**Dishpan stew - (n.) the remnants of wet food left around the sink stopper after hand washing the dinner dishes of a family of six (or more). origins: Aimee's dad, (with the intent of grossing her out while she was doing the dishes) usage: "Wow, there's enough food down there for a good dishpan stew tomorrow!"