Month: April 2010

the difference between men and women (part 372)

It’s prom season.

You know that section of scripture where God says he knows every hair on our heads? It means God knows us, really knows us…better than we know ourselves, better than we ever hope to know. That’s because in His infinite wisdom He knows what we need…and has our backs, so to speak.

That’s why I am ever thankful that God gave us two beautiful daughters first, and then a son, for when I was older and tired, and just didn’t have the energy or inclination to deal with daughters.

I am talking about clothes, of course.

I’m not that kind of a chick to begin with — the one that likes to spends hours shopping at the mall. Although the stereotype of mother-daughter bonding usually entailed some crazy shopping expedition, the only thing I ever got out of shopping with the girls was long faces, tears, and ill-fitting clothes. And the bill.

I can tell you with a great deal of certainty that they are just as relieved by being grown and not having to deal with me as I am. Oh, and they pay their own bills.

I miss having them in my lap, taking naps in my bed, wiping ice cream off their faces and arms and legs (why does ice cream end up everywhere on little people?), and if I am being totally honest, I miss their dependence on me.

I do not, however, miss going shopping with them.

That’s the big difference between girls and boys. Shopping with or for my son is the easiest thing ever. It’s made somewhat easier by the fact that he would go naked and barefoot if left to himself. Well, maybe not naked, but he has stated time and again that a pair of cargo shorts and a couple of t-shirts is all he needs. (that, and maybe some Febreze).

Anyway, as I was saying, it’s prom season. He needs a tuxedo. Black. How tough is that? Not very. His father said he’d take care of it. Excellent, I said.

And then, they disappeared into the garage and emerged in a triumphant mood.

That’s when I got concerned.

They were holding the Pantone color swatches chart. My son’s sweet girlfriend sent him a picture of her dress via email, and they were holding the colors up to the laptop trying to get a match. If that isn’t a scene out of The Big Bang Theory I don’t know what.

Incapable of understanding the meaning of Celestial Burst or Cerulean Starburst , they wrote down the HEX numbers and think that’s going to make sense to the Tuxedo Guy. Then again, maybe they speak the same language.

Just in case, I volunteered to order the corsage.

it’s a good Friday

I don’t do it often enough, but sometimes I get up very early. Very early. Like at a time that no one would ever think of getting up. Today, for example, I got up at 4:30 AM although I had stayed up past my usual bedtime to attend Mass and Adoration last night.

After a cup of coffee and a goodbye to my husband who does get up at such a bizarre time, I was left to the darkness and the dog who was untroubled by the wave of activity that was a little different from the usual morning routine.

Instead of feeling perturbed by the fact that I awoke suddenly and inexplicably, I brewed a pot of coffee (really? Did you think that wasn’t going to be a part of my exceedingly early debut?), chatted a bit about some mundane things until John left for work, and then kind of looked around and shrugged with that “now what?” expression that isn’t quite boredom but is going to get there quick if I don’t come up with a plan.

There’s a certain security and comfort in the house at such an hour. There are sounds that are not heard the rest of the day. The creaking and settling of an aging home, the hum of the air conditioning, the sound, almost, of the home’s pulse – the love and warmth that envelopes us as a family. And then the clock went off on the other side of the house.

I love that clock. If there was a laugh track that accompanied my life, it would be that cuckoo clock we bought in Germany years ago. It cuckoos on the half hour and the hour. It disturbs my family when they visit, but it’s just white noise to us –except, that we become very aware of the crazy things we do or say, especially when we are in the kitchen. Invariably, after making a ridiculous statement, the clock will go off, telling us we are cuckoo. I know the odds are that the clock is going to capture some silly comment since it’s literally cuckooing twice an hour, but it surprises us every time! We all laugh and someone will say, “There’s your punctuation.”

I was just sitting in the silence when the clock went off now, reminding me that I am cuckoo. Yes. Yes, I am. But that’s a good thing. It reminded me that there’s much to be joyful about, and it reminded me that there is a lot of laughter in my life. I never really thought about that, at least not in that way that would make me reflect on it.

Here I am, sitting in the dark, sipping on a cup of cold coffee, and I’m smiling. I should be reading today’s scripture. I haven’t prayed yet. I haven’t even gotten dressed yet, but I’m already joyful.

Today is Good Friday and a solemn day of reflection. The events that we meditate upon, starting with the commemoration of the Passover and Christ’s Passion as it was set in motion so many centuries ago might be cause for a more mournful, or at least a more subdued mood. I’ll certainly have that later today at the Stations of the Cross, but I can’t really contain myself right now in this moment. You see, I know the happy ending. It’s not a spoiler; you know it, too.

 “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”