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Wigilia 2016

Saturday 24 December 2016 | 0 Comments

What makes this Saturday different from any other Saturday? If I look back at Saturdays over the course of my life, what a change I see. How I spent my Saturdays when I was my children's age is so very different from how they spend they theirs. Better? In a way. Worse? Also true, in a way.

The Boy started the day with a speech for us all.

If K were to take the time to look back over the Saturdays of her life and compare them to what her children do, how they spend Saturday, there too would be enormous change. Better? In a way. Worse? Also true, in a way.

The point is, K and I are both in a place in our life that we probably never would have imagined when we were our children's age. Both of our lives at their age were about waiting, in a sense. K and her family were often waiting in lines in still-Communist Poland; I was waiting for the end and a new beginning.

And yet, there's still the waiting today. It's part of life. Waiting for the wild mushrooms (picked in Poland, dried in Babcia's kitchen, smuggled in our checked luggage, and waiting for months in the freezer) thaw then re-hydrate. Waiting for the zakwas to finish its fermenting so we can have the properly sour barszcz for dinner. Waiting for the prunes, apples, oranges, cloves, cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, ginger cubes, and brandy to release their magic to make the Christmas kompot.

The preparation, the waiting, is itself magical. K keeps everything moving, and I am constantly asking, "What now?" I dice the potatoes for the mushroom soup. "Not too big, not too small." I hold one cube up.

"They could be a little bigger." I try again and hold up a cube for inspection.

"That's a bit too big." But I don't mind. I'm just glad that I've found a place to help other than taking out the compost again and again -- peelings from all the fruits and veggies, then the cooked veggies from the stock, those that won't go into the salad that is -- and cleaning up the house.

While all this waiting is going on, there are things to do, of course. The table needs to be set. This is one of the things I leave to K. It's not that I wouldn't know how to do it -- I'm not that bad. But it's something K enjoys doing, a creative endeavor as I enjoy creating this site.

Gospel reading for the evening already prepared

We begin with a Gospel reading and sharing the opłatek. The Boy likes the wafer enough that he just sits and eats it as if it were a snack.

The dinner itself goes by in a flash. No matter how we try to slow things down (which we actually did this year), it still seems to go by entirely too quickly. We putting the barszcz on the table, and suddenly it's desert time. For the kids, that's a good thing: they can't wait to tear into their presents. For K, I guess it's a little bittersweet.

The menu is a traditional one (mouse-over to see details).

Dinner over, we head to the living room for presents. Probably this is the best part of the day for the kids: they can't imagine what it's like to go to bed Christmas Eve without the presents as we do it Polish style -- everything opened tonight.

And I guess, truth be told, it's everyone else's favorite as well. The gifts we get? Who cares, really, except for one gift: the kids' joy. The Girl got what she's been talking about for ages: a bow and arrow set. When she saw one in Kmart the other day (when we went to find something or other for decorating), she was insistent that we buy it. That she buy it.

"Please Daddy, I have enough money!"

Papa demonstrates proper drawing technique.

But I already knew Nana and Papa had bought a set for her, so I held my ground and played the mean Daddy. "Can we get it after Christmas?" became the mantra, to which I answered, "Nope, probably not." Now she understands; then, she was just frustrated. Yet another thing Daddy says "No" about.

The four-year-old's heart's deepest longing

The Boy's big prize: a fishing rod from our fishing neighbor. "Oh, I've been wanting one of these for years!" he exclaimed.

We talk and laugh, and before anyone knows it, it's almost time for Christmas vigil Mass. Nana and Papa head home, and we pile into the car and head to our new parish.

Father Longenecker's homily focuses on the three animals that are traditionally thought to have been in the barn with Mary, Joseph, and the newborn Jesus. There's the donkey, which seems to symbolize how we're all so stubborn in a way. Yet it was a donkey that Christ rides into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. There's a continuity there.

Next, there's the ox, which usually labors under a yoke. Three decades later, Jesus to his disciples says that "my yoke is sweet and my burden light" and invites the disciples to take up his yoke. But the early Church Fathers saw in this a parallel with taking up the cross of Christ. Just as the older ox in a pair takes the heavier load, so Christ.

Finally, there's the sheep. This reminds us of the fact that Jesus is both the Good Shepherd and the Agnus Dei. (Below: Penderecki's Agnus Dei -- not from tonight's Mass.)

In closing, Father speaks of the simple crib the infant Jesus had, a manger. It's close to "eat" in French, and therefore etymologically related to the Latin, the original language of the Church. The Church Fathers saw this as symbolic too, with the manger foreshadowing an altar and Jesus as the Eucharist.

It's a blessing to end the evening in such a beautiful space; it's a blessing to have a priest who gives you something to think about; it's a blessing to have a choir that sounds like this.

I kneel on the concrete floor, careful to put my left knee down since we don't have a kneeler as we're sitting in the overflow seating and I know what will happen if I put any weight on my right knee, and I think back to the beginning of the day, to my thoughts that have been bouncing around all day: what makes this Saturday any different from any other Saturday? We do. Our decision to make it different makes it different. We could abandon all tradition, we could order pizza and watch silly movies, or just go about our day as if it were any other Saturday, but we don't. And that's what makes it different.

I look to my fellow parishioners and familiar thoughts swirl about: even if all of this is human-made, even if the wafer the priest holds aloft as the altar server clangs the altar bell remains just a wafer, there is value in all of this, in the singing, in the humbling (after all, isn't that Christmas is about, the ultimate humbling?) of ourselves, the stopping one day a year and looking about us and seeing all that's beautiful in the little spheres we orbit.

Previous Years

Wigilia 2003

Wigilia 2004

Wigilia 2005

Wigilia 2006

Wigilia 2007

Wigilia 2008

Wigilia 2009

https://matchingtracksuits.com/2010/12/25/wigilia-2010/

Wigilia 2011

Wigilia 2012

Wigilia 2013

Wigilia 2014

Wigilia 2015

Cooking

Tuesday 20 December 2016 | 0 Comments

We had a beef stew for dinner. E mixed the meat with some spices and flour prior to browning. L learned how to peel and to cut potatoes.

An Almost-Inside Joke

Tuesday 20 December 2016 | 0 Comments

To get this, figure out the name of the piece of music and look up the imperative form of the Polish word for “to roll out dough.”

Jasełka 2016

Sunday 18 December 2016 | 2 Comments

K baked.

The Girl sang.

The Boy wrapped it all up.

10th Party

Saturday 17 December 2016 | 0 Comments

We've done it ten times now, and there are some constants, as there would be with any birthday parties. What's changed, however? The gifts. Toys are gone; jewelry has arrived.

Ten

Friday 16 December 2016 | 0 Comments

K and I woke about the time we arrived at the hospital ten years ago.

We were eating breakfast at the time I was filling out paperwork and K was wearily filling in her midwife on the progress thus far.

By the time the kids were up, K was in the huge tub preparing for a water delivery.

When L was opening her present, she was still almost an hour away from delivery. By the time E was licking the maple syrup off his plate after a birthday breakfast of French toast, L was getting closer but still not there.

By the time my students were partaking in their improvised opłatek celebration, K was holding a clean and fragrant little girl who had already taken over our lives entirely.

By the time our neighbor Santa arrived, Nana and Papa had already arrived and been reveling for some time in their new status as Nana and Papa.

Ten years and everyone around us, except for L, wonders how the time disappeared so quickly. Hasn’t L always been this tall? Hasn’t E always been tagging along behind her?

Concert 2016

Monday 12 December 2016 | 2 Comments

Goofing

Sunday 11 December 2016 | 0 Comments

Character and Characters

Thursday 08 December 2016 | 0 Comments

It's not just that I'm a parent -- that's not the only reason I'm always thinking about it, though it is the primary and most obvious reason. It's also because I deal with kids all day every day -- I see the results of others' efforts.

Taiashia is a girl whose attitude on most days goes from bad to worse. She arrives at school mad, and she is often furious before the beginning of the first class. She is obstinate and often belligerent. She can be incredibly incorrigible with some teachers all the time and with me some of the time. She often refuses any redirection from a teacher and responds to explanations of the coming consequences with, "I don't care." She is generally regarded by most teachers not to be the most trustworthy pupil. She is, in short, difficult to deal with. But she is smart. Incredibly smart. Despite all her behaviors and issues, she maintains A's and B's in most classes.

Earlier in the year, when I first realized how bright she was, how much faster she was on the uptake than a lot of the students in her class, I offered her a temporary spot in one of my advanced classes. "It's the level class I'd like to place you in next year, and I think it might be a good experience for you this year."

"I don't want to," was her reply.

"Think about it first. Then give me an answer."

"I don't want to," she said the next day.

I had to call her guardian recently about her behavior, and I knew what I'd hear. Anyone could guess what I'd hear. Tough life. Not the best home influences. So on. A common story with such kids.

Cut to this evening. I'm scrounging the bookshelves for a book I haven't already read and am willing to read because I am not willing to pay the overdue fine I still owe at the library. (The Girl had a bunch of books checked out on my account and, well, time got away from us...) I found a book about child rearing that had the word "character" in the title. Probably not a surprise in a Catholic home. It proposed eight elements of personality that show a person has character -- things like integrity, self-discipline, joy. All elements that Taiashia lacks. Completely, it seems some days. At the same time, all things K and I are trying to instill in our own children.

And the opportunities to do so abound. The Girl will face one tomorrow. Her class has earned Electronics Day, which means students can bring electronics for twenty minutes of free time at some point in the day. L's tablet is busted; our tablet is busted; the tablet I use for school is at school; laptops are not allowed. And so our daughter was worried about what would happen if she came to Electronics Day without any electronics.

"They'll laugh at me!" she sniffled.

How do you explain to an almost-ten-year-old that what others think doesn't matter? How do you provide the kind of perspective that makes that possible? You can't. It only comes with time, with experiencing it for yourself and noticing that you survived it, noticing that not everyone joined in the laughter, realizing that those people are your true friends. A tough thing for not even ten years' experience.

K and I did the expected thing; we said what any parent would say. And when she brought it up again as I was tucking her in, I thought of Taiashia.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Maybe pray for them?"

"Why?" she asked.

"If they're in a place in their life where it makes them feel good to make someone else feel bad, they must have a pretty bad life." Now, I don't think that's entirely what's going on with fourth graders, but by the time they become eighth graders like Taiashia, it is what's going on. "And then remember it: remember what it feels like and be the one that stands up for others when they're getting laughed it."

She thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, I guess."

She didn't sound so convinced, but perhaps there's just enough seed, water, and care for something to grow there. And if not, K and I will plant again.

Mikołaj 2016

Tuesday 06 December 2016 | 0 Comments

There are times when it seems the Girl's frustration with the Boy is simply going to overwhelm her, take over her mind, body, and soul. "E!" she cries out, stretching his name into a several-second yelp. When she's talking to her cousin in Poland, she can be positively cruel, trying to shove him out of her room so she can have "peace and quiet." When he gets into her Legos, it's as if he's managed to snag a Ming dynasty vase and is attempting to juggle it.

Of course he can give it as well as he gets it, and sometimes the Girl comes and complains that E is being mean. "Well, he's only following your example: you taught him how to do that," K and I remind her.

Some days, it's like playing Whack-a-Mole: one gets calmed down just as the other decides it's about time for a little provocation. Reverse and repeat. Reverse and repeat. Reverse and repeat.

When they're in such a mood, it brings out the worst in them in another respect, too: they become the worst tattle-tales. I guess this is just another form of provocation, though.

Watching them in these moments, it might be hard to see the love they have for each other, especially when L's all worked up. But it's there, strong and bright and clear. Most clearly, it comes from E, who's not afraid to show his love and admiration for his older sister. She is everything to him, and he imitates her as much as he imitates K and me.

The Girl shows it in little surprising ways. This morning, "Polish Christmas" as they call it, she was up first. That in itself is a rarity. Still, there she was the first one up, with a little prodding. She had the first meeting of Battle of the Books this morning, and she had to be at school a little early -- with chorus, that means early starts Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for the foreseeable future. It's always hard to get her out of bed, but I thought I had the silver bullet today: "Mikołaj came -- I think he left you something." I expect her to bolt upright and start asking, "Where? Where? Where?" with a crazed expression. It would be a typical L action in many ways. Instead, she simply answered that she wanted to open her present with E.

"He's still asleep," I explained, thinking that would put an end to it all.

"Okay, I'll wait."

It was worth it.

L led E to his presents and celebrated with what Mikołaj brought him. (The prized present: a light and siren set to turn his bike into a "police vehicle" as he explained it.) Then she demanded that he lead her, with her eyes closed, back to her room to check out her presents. (The prized present: a new pair of pajamas emblazoned with L's morning mantra: "Five more minutes!")

In the evening, it was time for more holiday preparation: Saturday's a big smoking day for me, and we put around twenty-five pounds of pork loin in a brine to get it ready. The Boy, who's always wanting to cook, helped out. I taught him how to test the brine ("It should taste as salty as the ocean," I explained) and then spit it out.

Of course the spitting into a pot was the highlight. He was not at all disappointed that we didn't have the salt level correct the first time and had to keep adding and testing, adding and testing.

Afterward, a little work on the couch together.