Help Feed the Hungry

On Easter Sunday, I took my children to an Episcopal Church downtown for a nice Easter lunch. I have an aunt that lives across the street from this church in a low income housing high-rise apartment. She is mentally handicapped and although she works, she will never be able to totally support herself financially. Her and I and the kids always spend holidays together. This year, I did not have the time, energy or money to cook. I skipped the whole egg/basket scene because each of the kids had an opportunity to do those activities while on spring break at grandma's. They were disappointed, but did not complain much.

On a normal Sunday morning, I try to drag my kids to church with me, because I really like going. My 6 yr old son used to go, but now he, too, has refused. So, this particular Easter Sunday morning, I tell them I do not care what you wear!!!!!!! We are going!!!!!!! Cuz I am the mom!!!!! Cuz I said so!!!!!!!!!!!!! etc., etc...

We pick up my aunt and begin walking towards the church. It is raining, none of us brought coats. The girls are in short skirts and flip-flops, my son jeans and myself in a skirt and jacket, although the pink of the shirt and the pink of the jacket do not compliment each other, I wasnt worried cuz old people don't care. The Epicopaleans ( I was raised Episcopal) are leaving the church all bundled up and umbrellaed against the cold and wet. I already feel out of place. The children are getting soaked and are shivering.

We walk to the door the boasts a sign "Help Feed the Hungry" and step inside. The first thing I notice is the reek of stale cigarette smoke. Then I notice the layers and layers of clothes each person is wearing, then I notice they are all men. There is not another child anywhere. As we walk down the line past around 200 people to find the end, I am wonering what my children are thinking?? What am I thinking?? My aunt is not able to be aware of social situations that might make her uncomfortable. I am not about to cancel and walk out. My aunt invited us and the kids and I really are hungry!

We sit at a table and wait for all the others to file through the line to get their food. The volunteers are constantly bringing the kids water, juice and milk. They are very, very kind but you can see in their eyes they feel sorry for us. Do I tell them I have an apartment? I am not homeless, just poor and yes, struggling. The words do not come. Am I now ashamed that I do have a place to live? The children and I get in line, the volunteers heap food on the childrens plates (it was really very good!) and then come around with pie. My little six year old shyly asks for more milk please. The gentleman replies they are out. A few minutes later, he hurries back and fills her glass to the rim with cold, sweet milk that he went to great lengths to find for this little girl. She is happy and drinks the whole glass in front of him. (Her third!) He is happy, too.

Their clothes and hair are dry, their bellies are full and their lips have returned to a rosy red from deep purple. As we are leaving some of the volunteers stop us. They want to send us home with boxes of left overs. They bring us meal tickets for a place downtown and shove them in my hand. "One free hot meal a day". They bring bottles of apple juice to take home. Then we are out in the rain and cold again walking my aunt home. We are stopped waiting for the cross walk, and a kind man in a very nice suite turns to my shivering six year old and asks, "Honey, are you ok?" Like she is being kidnapped or something. She gives a small nod of the head up and down. I think to myself, "She could have been more convincing".

Is alcohol a "truth serum" or do we just get stupid?

We laugh, we cry, we puke our guts out. All of a sudden people we just met are our "best friend in the whole world".

The first thing I do

The first thing I do, or stop doing, when I get my tax return is to stop cooking for a while. It isn't the cooking I dislike so much as it is all the distractions while I am trying to prepare a meal for those ungrateful, I mean my children. I love cooking actually and I pride myself on the fact that I make everything from scratch! The old fashioned way. It is very good. Now that I am not working I make a hot breakfast every day for my kids. My son will eat four pancakes, scrambled eggs and then have a bowl of cereal. Then I make two batches of muffins to take with them and for after school snack. My son is growing like a bad weed. One of his cousins is 6'7" and my son is trying to be as tall as him. At the rate he is growing, he might make it. He asked my the other day, "Is God as big as Bryson?"

I am not as "with it" as I would like to be

In some ways, I am proud of the fact that I am stuck in the 80's. Life was good then. My parents paid the bills and I still got to stay out till midnight. Life really was better then.

what I am really needing here is a person that can guide me into some technological advances that I need to make. Do you know what comes up when you type in a search "cd burner"? You get "we did not find that exact term, but we think this is what you might want", and I got blank cd's for sale.

I need to take music off of Kazaa and put it on cd's that I can play at home or in my car (when I actually do get one for my car) so I can get Kazaa off my computer and hopefully it will run better.

I do not have the first clue of how to pick a cd burner. Do I really need an mp3, too? I am afraid I will get ripped off. I think I really just need a new computer, but I already downloaded all that free music and screwed up this computer. I do not want a new computer until after I get the free music.

See? The eighties were so much better! Just put on an album. Of which, by the way, I still have all of those!

kids say the darndest things

My twins recently turned six. Gone soon are they days when their older sisters and I could spell and have a few secrets or discuss how to manipulate them.

The other day the kids were fighting. One of our rules is no name calling. I tell them, "I did not put the name Stupid on your brothers birth certificate". So the ten year old screams at her brother, "You are so S-T-U-P-I-E-D!"

My dad said once that siblings keep each other in their place, I believe it is true.

Mawgawrita

Mawgawrita

The best part of having kids, is you get to read the best books and watch the best movies!! I have the scripts to all the Disney movies memorized! How many people can say that??