What goes around...

Yep, that's right. Comes around.

My mom and dad torment me with stories of how awful it was to try to get me down to bed when i was little. I know they are right, because I remember it. And I remember the ritualistic mantra I had to say each time they re-tucked me into bed. After the drink of water. After the third trip to the bathroom. After going out to the living room to report that I was hungry.

"Good night. I love you. See you in the morning. Sleep tight so the bed bugs don't bite. Sweet dreams. Are the doors locked? Is my window shut all of the way?"

I could never quite understand that underlying vibe of frustration that I felt mounting with each additional time I got out of bed.

Until I had kids of my own. I'm sure, like me, they had things they just had to get done after the kids went to bed, and with each of my meanderings out of bed, they watched their own sleep time drift away.

Livvy is currently out of bed for the sixth time tonight. She just came downstairs into the office after I sent her back to bed for the fifth time. Do understand that her attempts at trying constitute usually much less, but certainly no more, than 60 seconds in bed before trudging out into the hallway again.

Mommy: "Okay, Livvy. We've gotten drinks, we've gone potty three times, I've rubbed your back, Daddy's rubbed your back. Please just go lay in your bed and try to relax and go to sleep. You have a field trip tomorrow."

Livvy goes into bedroom. Silence. Mommy goes into office to check email. Two minutes later, Livvy comes plodding down the stairs.

Livvy: "Mommy, I can't sleep. And I don't know how to try."

And speaking of awake:

It'll pass

On August 2nd, little Jack William was baptized. It was an amazing day. The mass and ceremony took place at the little, small-town church in Eddyville, Nebraska where Bill went every Sunday as a child. Though it is no longer open reguarly, it is opened for special occasions and Christmas Day Masses.



Many things have taken place in that church. Bill's memory of it, of course, extends back more years than mine; he still hears the echoes of his Dad's singing in his mind when he enters the doors.



My memories of this church, though dating back only about ten years, are monumental. And, fortunately and unfortunately, my little family has been the reason that those doors have been reopenend on more than one occasion in the last five years. Sam's funeral was there. Hannah's funeral was there. And now, Jack's baptism was there. Life has come full circle in that church.



Presiding all of those sacred celebrations has been my Uncle Jack.



Uncle Jack is known for his gift in liturgy, especially in giving a homily that you can sink your heart into...a message that you can take home and either use immediately or keep in your tool box for use later.



Such was the case on August 2nd.



One of the things I love about Uncle Jack is his "realness." He didn't take the easy road that day, which would have been to ignore the memories that church has held for us. Instead, he delievered a message that I will keep in my heart always; one which I have already had to pull out of my toolbox.



I will likely get the details wrong, but here is the meat of the story he started out with:

Thomas Merton was a noted monk, theologian and poet.



He once had a man come to him for advice. This man happened to be at a very
low point in his life. His relationship with his wife was strained. The family
was financially strapped. His job was becoming increasingly stressful and he was
in danger of losing it altogether. His children were acting out at school. He
was life tired. He asked Merton for advice. Merton said,



"Don't worry. It'll pass. "



The man, perplexed and uninspired thought, "That's all you have to
say?"



A few years down the road, the man returned. Merton asked him how things
were with him. The man replied, "They are wonderful. I got a new job and got my
affairs in order. My wife and I have reconciled. The kids are doing great and
are now both in college. Things couldn't be better. "



Merton replied, "Don't worry. It'll pass."

Uncle Jack went on to point out that so very much in our life is ever-changing. There is so much that we cannot control. Very little remains constant. But, when things are good and when things are not so good, our family, our friends and our faith CAN be constant. They can be the things that we lean on when things swing up and down. They can be the things that don't pass.



Now, please reference my blog post from July 23rd, "Summer of My Soul."

You guessed it. The tranquility passed. Though not completely, it passed.

Last Monday, after recovering beautifully from surgery, Camille woke up limping noteably. Since then, it has been a mystery. With a mixture of pain and decreased mobility which she now stubbornly refuses to talk about, it has gotten to the point where she will barely walk. An ortho visit and a week later and we still don't have answers.

And it is ripping my heart out because she had been doing so well. As usual, she somehow has put it in a compartment and kept her loving, laughing spirit up.

And meanwhile, my spirit suffers. But I think of Uncle Jack's homily and Merton's words and think "Don't worry, it'll pass." Hopefully.

In the meantime, we went back to Kearney and Sumner for a weekend of family, friends and faith to help get us through. Which it did.

Now if only it'll pass.

Grammie and Pappie

Welp, we are officially having withdrawl at the O'Neill Omaha residence today. This is the first day without Grammie and Pappie here since last Tuesday.

God Bless them. They came to stay while Camille started Kindergarten last week--to help out while we all settled into our groove....oh yeah, and I suspect largely because they love our kids to pieces and didn't want to miss out on this monumental milestone. Arriving Tuesday night, we got to see the whites of their eyes until Sunday afternoon.

We loved every moment.

And there were so many moments to love....seeing Dad tirelessly line up and organize all of Livvy's little pet shop animals....hearing Camille say Sunday afternoon with all of the sadness that she could muster, "But Pappie, you can't leave. You have to stay here".....having their young energy fill our lives.

And then, of course, there are the two-sided conversations that Grammie and Jack have together. I LOVE them. Mom has had them over the past five years with all of the kids when they were not yet able to speak for themselves. The story lines she weaves entertain them...and me...for hours. I think it is one of the things I will miss the most about having children who are babies.

Here's just a few snippets of the lengthy conversations that we so love:

At the crib:

Grammie (looking down at Jack in his crib): "Whatsa doin' down there?"

Grammie as Jack (GAJ): "Say, 'Well, Grammie, I don't know. You put me here. What am I doing down here?'"

Changing a diaper:

Grammie: "Whoa, you gotsa load. Yes. You are soaked to the brim. Yes you are."

GAJ: "Say, 'Grammie, you are always talking about loads when you change me. Load, load, load. That's so embarrasing.' Say, 'Don't talk about my loads in front of everyone, Grammie.'"

At 11:00 p.m., when Jack suddenly comes to life:

Grammie: "Yes, Jack, I see you are awake. Yes, those eyes wide open. Not even close to shutting. Nope. "

GAJ: "Say, 'Yep, Grammie. Time to party. My sisters are sleeping and I have all the attention. Yessir. All I have do do is wake up and all you have to do is do whatever I want to do. Yep. I set the schedule.'"

See how lucky we are? Do you see why we miss Grammie and Pappie's presence this week? Does this leave you hungry for more? It does me.

This could be the start of something wonderful....

Well, the first week of Kindergarten is over. The backpack was donned. The days came and went.

And so far, it's been a hit.

How could it not be when the Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Lee, sends home magic confetti to put under the pillow the night before the first day of school?

Yep. Camille is in love.

Though a bit tired at the end of the days she's had, in true introverted form, once she's had a few minutes of quiet, a few m n m's, and a glass of milk, she's been ready to chat.

About new friends and teachers.

About books that have been read.

About what she's played on the playground.

About conversations she's had.

Oh....and about role call. For some reason, role call has been a big hit.....so much so that we've had to reenact it at home.

"Mommy, when I say your name, your shout "HERE!"......Mommy!"

"Here!"

"Now you say my name and I will say here."

"Camille."

"HEEEEERE!"

Oh that we all would be this enthusiastic. As the now nearly cliche saying goes, "All that I ever really needed to know, I learned in Kindergarten."

Perhaps we should all play role call at the beginning of the day. Maybe we would all be a little more positive if when we got to work, we took turns calling each others' names and gleefully shouting, "HEEEEERE!" when our name is called. Maybe when we wake up each morning, we should call each others' names to make sure that we've really checked in for the day and aren't just glazed over and going through the motions.

Hey, it works well for five year olds.

Kindergarten Eve

Here sits a brand spanking new pink backpack, ready for little arms to fill it tomorrow.

Today is Kindergarten Eve.

My mom tells stories of hating the first few days before school started when I was growing up. Apparently, as a child, I always had trouble sleeping as I so worried that I wouldn't already know the things I was expected to learn. She still laughs at the irony of that.

We may evolve as beings, but roots run deep.

Tomorrow, my girl begins a new chapter. She isn's particularly nervous at all. She spent the weekend labeling all of her school supplies and then asking to relabel them. She took them to the open house to stake out her ground in Mrs. Lee's classroom. She came home already asking, "Mommy, where is Mrs. Sue Klopp?" the vision para who will be one of the many helping her find her way. She already found a favorite spot in the classroom--not surprisingly-- in the reading corner on a rug next to the toy fireplace. Her lanyard that says, "Please do not talk to me. I am busy." was already hanging in her cubby...and for obvious reasons as we made it through the building and were stopped by so many to chat. We already feel at home with our Reeder family since she has been there for two years in preschool. She is in amazing hands and we are so very blessed to have such a committed learning environment for her.

I don't think I'll particularly be a mess tomorrow. Perhaps just a little sentimental. But still, I've found my own elementary days creeping back in, worrying a bit about whether I have prepared her enough to know what she needs to know for Kindergarten.

I know, I know. It's entirely pathological.