Discretion

Wouldn't want to actually post these. Wouldn't want to offend anyone.

Fine, whatever, just not where anyone has to see it, OK?

Baby Jesus: a real baby

The Guardian of our Lord approves.

The Saints John ask, "Well what else would they be doing?"

St. John the Baptist and St. Andrew hang with the fam.

SS Peter, John, Cosmas, and Damian are totally handling it; what's your problem?

"You don't have to leave!" say SS Peter, Paul, Catherine, and Margaret.

St. Luke draws a picture!!!

Hmm, these angels don't look embarrassed at all.

Once they can walk up and ask, they're really too old. Everybody knows that.

Lutheran sympathizers are all for it.

Grownup Jesus suffers the little children to live their lives.

Keep it in the Cry Room though, right?

Still Life with Weirdness

The eloquent in the room

Well, I know we were all excited to be a part of the events of yesterday afternoon, but here at CSPP we have trouble focusing when people are torturing pronouns. Does Our Beloved Synod really objectify subjects like the masses? Are we among the ignorami who can't figure out how to use intensives and reflexives? Strunk have mercy!

It would be uncharitable to cite specific examples. But the problem was not endemic. There was one tense syntactic moment which ended in a flawless pronominal usage beautiful as a perfect dismount from the uneven bars. And who stuck this grammatical landing? None other than the Reverend President-for-two-more-months Gerald Kieschnick. Unfortunately this thrilling moment is not included in the available archived video and I wasn't transcribing--it was during the practice balloting for VPs in succession--but the man nailed it.

There have been a lot of cringe-making moments at the 2010 convention, but this wasn't one of them. Thanks, Father Jerry, for speaking well. It means so much to us.

Of the election of Synodical Presidents

By the election of Synodical Presidents we mean this truth, that all those who by the grace of history alone, for inertia's sake, through the means of majority vote, are lionized, vilified, or ignored here in time, that all these have already from who knows when been endowed by Corporate Synod with inflated importance, excessive compensation, captive audiences, and preservation in bureaucracy, and for this same reason, namely, by history alone, for inertia's sake, and by way of majority vote. That this is the doctrine of Corporate Synod is evident from a bunch of mumbo jumbo no one in her right mind would dig through for direct citations, even for a joke.

Mom is not smart

I'm not the only person who does this, right? Realizes that the thing I've been watching the kids do for hours is something I totally don't want them doing?

By all means! Take the kitchen stools outside and turn them into cauldrons for mud-based potions! Of course I'd like a taste every three minutes!

Rush out now in a buying frenzy

About six months ago I came into an absolutely indispensible household item: a seven-year-old. You must get one.

I'm not the world's most feminine mom, but I know what I am, I'm a mom, I'm a mom

The Christian-women-with-their-heads-on-straight contingency strikes me as a nice bunch of Ladies. This is why I don't feel like I'm in it.

I don't feel like a Lady. I feel like a peasant. Ladies live in manors, and I'm just not running a tea-and-crumpets operation here. More like, we're out of napkins; wipe it on your sock. Most days I hope to pass for "windblown" rather than "unwashed." If there's a Ladylike way to dig up turnips or deal with an abominable diaper, I haven't found it. There's nothing like childbirth (not to mention the bloated and undignified months on either side) to take the Lady out of any girl. And I know they're terribly unfeminine, but there's no way I'm giving up my YHS Marching Foxes sweatshirt and thrift store Silvertabs.

In the new creation, Ladies will sit on tuffets eating curds and whey while I teach hymns to spiders. All the talk about skirts and speaking in gentle voices and just what exactly it means to sell purple cloth exhausts me, and makes me wonder how much of this is really about where everyone is from (I'm guessing around 90%). Graceful movement; are you kidding me? After what just blasted out of that kid?

Ladies, like Attachment Parents, are people with a certain set of gifts. Just as I wish my kids had Attachment Parents, I wish my husband were married to a Lady. But he's got something more like a chick, or a female earthling, or just a plain old wife (emphasis on the plain). I have no desire to give offense, but I'm also not going to pare myself down to the ideal Lady idealized by the most idealistical idealist. For one thing, no one has answered my lipstick question yet, and there are countless other similarly unclear matters. I'm confident that if the one dude whose opinion matters to me determines that my personal femininity needs some helpful guidance, he'll provide it. You'll note I haven't had a haircut in ten years even though I'd look much better with one. ;)

But not only have the Ladies given an important voice to women who don't want to be men, most of them also seem nice enough to realize that there are more alternatives to Lady than Tramp. I'm glad they're out there. Nice work, girls. Here, give me your cameras and get together over there for a picture. You all look lovely.

Spreading the love

I'm just going to take a minute here and give a shout out to my best friend Mott Media, LLC. Thank you, Mott Media, LLC, for supplying our children with copies of books my grandfather remembers using back in his one-room country schoolhouse days. Thank you very much, Mott Media, LLC, for providing our children with books that actually teach them how to read, write, and 'rithmetic, with such minimal input from me.

I feel like I could hug you, Mott Media, LLC, mostly because you wouldn't hug me back. No, you'd slap my wrist with a ruler and tell me to get back to work. I respect that about you, Mott Media, LLC, and I respect your products.

And, just so we're clear, America, I'm being completely serious with you. Go have yourself a gander, ASAP.

All I really need to know about toddlers, I learned from my kindergartener.

Our church has a little summer preschooly program that gets the four-year-old out of the house for a morning every now and again—a really great arrangement for everyone. In his absence, the 6-year-old pays a lot more attention to the 2-year-old, and observing BigBoy’s attempts to organize ToddlerDude has provided a good refresher in Life With a Toddler 101.

For instance:

1)If you talk to a toddler like he’s an actual human being (without the condescending and simpering), he’s more likely to respond as such. (This can also result in some really hilarious, sanity -saving moments when an earnest member of the two-set, playing it cool, attempts to answer in kind.)

2)The toddler dude may not totally get what’s going on, but his comprehension far exceeds his verbal expression. If you do your best to involve him in whatever you’re doing, he’ll be awfully happy to be a part of it, and he just might surprise you by rising to the occasion. Toddlers are people too, after all. Volatile people, to be sure—but then which of us doesn’t throw a tantrum at least every now and again?

Yeah. Sometimes I feel like that too.

3)A toddler’s frustrations and heartbreaks are as real to him as they seem ridiculous to you. To a certain extent, those moments in which his world falls apart deserve to be taken seriously. (This goes along with him being an actual, albeit short and hilarious, person.) Then again, sometimes the best thing you can do for him is to laugh at him, until he laughs along. People who take themselves too seriously don’t often turn out well.

4)Sometimes, you need to remember that the two-year-old is still…two. Thirtysome months ago, give or take, he was an eight-pound mass of squalling flesh, propelled into an unknown world with nothing going for him but a suckling reflex. Even if you’re able to co-opt him into creating an elaborate duplo tower, his attention span will waver, particularly if he’s frustrated beyond his developmental abilities, and in the end he probably won’t be able to resist destroying it in a fit of utter glee. And what did you expect, after all? He’s only two, and if you don’t think he’ll act his age, you’re the one who’ll end up in tears.

Timeline, Baby 5

Day 1: Mother feels galaxy-sized relief that her warfare is accomplished. That one, anyway.

Day 2: Mother is worried that Baby does not nurse well. Mother, still cautiously rational, tells herself he will figure it out soon.

Day 5: Mother completely loses it when Father thoughtfully removes Baby from Mother's sleeping area and she awakens to the sound of no breathing. Mother realizes that five babies have not earned her a pass on postpartum insanity.

Day 7: Mother is convinced sleepy Baby with poor nursing skills will die soon. Mother in following days and weeks crashes repeatedly, dramatically, humiliatingly.

Day 13: Mother rallies for Baby's sponsor enrollment in church (baptism having been performed in an emergency capacity under unsettling circumstances of birth). Mother does virtually nothing for celebration following, leaving all work to guests. Mother bids guests goodbye as soon as Baby falls asleep and goes to sleep herself. Mother wonders why it took her five babies to realize this is the only way to do it.

Day 19: Mother rejoices foggily in 2nd birthday of previous Baby, and meditates on the mystery that sleepy current Baby leaves her just as tired as the regular kind.

Day 24: Father has learned to send Mother to bed any time she starts acting that way. This makes incredible improvements in Mother's outlook on life.

1 Month: Mother manages to do a few things with older kids. Mother is very, very proud of herself.

Also 1 Month: Evidence suggests older children are largely oblivious to Mom being a wreck, even to the point of completely (and charmingly) misinterpreting major symptoms.

1.5 Months: Evidence suggests Mother's ability to simulate if not truly experience a sense of humor is returning in modest quantity.

2 Months: Evidence suggests Baby is quite large. Mother calms down about that at least.

Also 2 Months: Mother's heart sinks further, remembering that this is when you start acting like life is normal again even though it totally isn't. Mother develops elaborate sleep fantasies and wonders if this is perverse.

3 Months: Mother's heart is divided between hating still being fat and just not even giving the tiniest rip. She finds a pair of green sweat pants just like her beloved blue ones on clearance and buys them.

3.5 Months: Mother ponders story from Grandma: I think it was when the boys were about three months old, I woke up one morning and thought, "I think I felt like crap before, because I don't feel like it now." Mother realizes she is a pathetic wimp because it doesn't take twins to make her feel like crap for three months, and all she thinks about during that time is how she feels like crap.

4 Months: Mother resigns herself to having one of those babies who just isn't going to sleep all night, and tries to take comfort in the fact that every waking episode doesn't last for an hour+ now.

Also 4 Months: Mother puzzles over why other new mothers seem to pull it together SO much faster than she does. Formula seems to be a factor, but does not explain all cases.

5 Months: Mother smolders in the dark night considering a nursing personality Dr. Sears neglected to describe in his helpful list: MEAN.

6 Months: Mother realizes the huge amount of work she has been knocking off lately is due to Baby's growing solid enough to become a plaything for other children. She drinks a stiff martini to celebrate and goes to bed happy. Baby awakens and demands her attention before she has time to fall asleep.