Independence Day Teens and Food

The vegan, gluten free Springtime Strawberry Lime Crisp is baking in the oven. My husband and I will be taking it, along with his should-be-world famous corn, to our dear family friends.

Our sons are in Spain and Florida, exercising their own independence. We miss them terribly but are so happy to know they are having beautiful experiences, the eldest at a home stay with the Experiment in International Living in Valencia, the younger at a goal-keeper camp in St. Petersburg. The organizers of that camp, who coached Tim Howard here in New Jersey, had scheduled him to help run the camp. World Cup Success intervened.
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With a Bow and a Passport and the Prayers of St. Gabriel, Our Son Spreads His Wings

"As long as I have my bow and my passport, I'm good. Those are the important things." This is one of the last things our 16-year-old told me before we hugged him goodbye at the Philadelphia International Airport a few hours ago.

Tonight he and his orchestra are flying to Heathrow and then Brussels for a 10-day concert tour of Europe. He's never been off the North American continent. For our family, flying to Europe is a Very Big Deal, something my husband never has done and something I last did a quarter-century ago. This is why we showed up at Terminal A nearly five hours before his flight was scheduled to take off.

This Moment: Waiting for Lunch

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Visit www.soulemama.com to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Readers: Can You Help Some Teen Musicians Make Joyful Noises?

I have written before about the wonderful chamber music orchestra that our older son is privileged to be part of. This eclectic group of musicians, called Stretto Youth Chamber Orchestra, is gathered together by the amazing Sherri Anderson, a joy-filled Christian whose life's mission is to bring music to everyone. Her musicians come from an extraordinary  range of settings - from boarding schools to homeless shelters and foster homes.

I don't think I've ever asked my readers to consider making a tax-deductible contribution to a worthy cause, but I am asking you now.

Please Pray for a Young Man's Continued Recovery

A few days ago, I asked you to pray for a young man, Peter, a 14-year-old family friend who is a classmate of our younger son, as well as a fellow Confirmandi. Last Friday, Peter had a seven-hour operation at the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan, the nation's oldest orthopedic hospital, to correct acute scoliosis. Peter now is home recuperating.

I ask you continue to pray for him, as well as for his loving parents, who are caring for him. My girlfriend Judy stayed by his side his entire hospital stay.

My father, long retired, was a surgeon and I often heard from patients how grateful they were to his care. Now I really understand. As a reminder that surgeons can, with the grace of God, work miracles, here are Peter's before and after photos.

Before....

After....

 

Blessed Savior, I thank you that this operation is safely past, and now this young man rests in your abiding presence, relaxing every tension, releasing every care and anxiety, receiving more and more of your healing life  into every part of his being. In moments of pain may he turn to you for strength, in times of loneliness may he feel your loving nearness. Grant that your life and love and joy may flow through him for the healing of others in your name. Amen.

This Story Begins with a Boy Singing in the Shower

This afternoon, while I was upstairs reading, our 13-year-old son came home from basketball practice. He headed to the shower as part of his preparation for his middle school music concert tonight.

Usually, I am not home when he showers in the early mornings; I have already left for work.
From my room this afternoon, I could hear the water running, and him singing: "It's the most wonderful time of the year."    

St. Nicholas Day: Do You Celebrate This Advent Saint?

I didn't grow up celebrating St. Nicholas Day on December 6, and we never truly celebrated it with our sons.  How do you celebrate this feast day? This year, we are celebrating.

Our sons did grow up listening to me read them a book called "The True Story of Saint Nicholas,"  (published by Pauline Books and Media) and so they always have known that Santa Claus once was a real man, a Turkish man, a bishop who cared for the poor.  Years ago, that book was a way to reclaim Saint Nicholas from the garish commercialization of what I call Consumer Christmas. This year, I am doing trying in earnest what I can to mark the Advent season in our home. Re-enter Saint Nicholas, amid the flurry of our boys' math homework, basketball practices, chamber music rehearsals and National Honor Society essays.

Hurricane Furniture and Other Blessings

I realize this photo of our backyard, which is a slate patio, might not say much to you. But this picture says a lot to me about endurance and promise.

Contemplating Teens and Tchaikovsky

Helping teens navigate adolescence is not for the faint of heart. I teach teens. My husband and I are raising one, and soon, two, teens. The adolescent years are as tumultuous, as full of questioning and confusion, as the toddler years.

Sometimes, I find out things I would rather not know.

Sometimes, I have to remind myself that the Mystery is imbedded in all reality and that all of us, even teens who make poor decisions, are redeemable miracles.

A Commencement Speaker Tells It As It Is: "You Are Not Special"

"Despite every assurance......you are nothing special...The empirical evidence is everywhere...." Oh I wish all children, and all of us, could hear this Wellesley High School teacher's speech. We fear our mortality, so we want to feel special. "Be worthy of your advantages...Dream big. Work hard... Get up. Get out...The fulfilled life is what happens when you are thinking about other things."

The Season of Proms, High School Graduations, Drunk Driving and Prayers

Hundreds of teenagers sat in hushed silence this morning as the high school football coach shared  about how 20 years ago his brother, then 29, was airlifted to a trauma center after being hit by a drunken driver one Friday night. The brother had not been out drinking; he was returning home with friends after time spent at a batting cage. 

Tonight at the New Jersey public high school where I teach, the seniors will go to a catering hall a few towns away for their prom. Today, they got some life lessons on how youthful decisions can lead to lifelong pain.

This Moment: Tour of Colts Neck

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' at www.soulemama.com for all to find and see.

Mom and The Art of Chauffering

My girlfriend J. had a dilemma the other day. Her college-aged son, home for the Triduum, had a music gig in his college town about 40 miles away at two Easter services at a  Presbyterian church and then had to come home for Easter dinner. He isn't an experienced driver, so her initial plan was to drive him to the first gig, drive home, then go get him when the second gig ended, drive him back home for dinner, then drive him back to college. We're talking 240 miles of driving in one day.

No! I told her, perhaps a bit too forcefully. Drive him to the first gig, wait the three or so hours until they both are over, then drive him home. Have his dad drive him back to his dorm after Easter dinner. OK, she said, but what would she do with all that time in the van, waiting?

The Bicycle Our Son Built

Our 15-year-old son found a passion for cycling about a year ago. This is not a cheap hobby. The beauty of his experiences with cycling is that we as his parents have found out how resourceful and motivated our son is.

Spring Break: When Desperation Breeds Creativity

Our sons have been out of school since Good Friday and won't be back until next Monday. That gives them 10 days in which to figure out what to do with their time. I am off work too and I get to watch what they come up with. I do let them watch lots of television and play on their Game Cube. To a point.

There are also lots of moments I say to turn off the electronics and figure out what to do.  It is pure privilege to live in a circumstance where my children are able to get "bored." In my first job out of journalism school, I covered a tiny town in Massachusetts and had to file a story a day, It wasn't easy but my editor would tell me: "Desperation breeds creativity." And so it does.

Savoring A Pause in Our Busy Days

This is a photo I swiped off the web of Main Street Bagel in downtown Flemington, New Jersey, where I spent a couple of hours this morning with L, our 12-year-old son. We sat at the farthest right table in this photo, next to an older couple. We ate homemade bagels,  I sipped coffee, and we both enjoyed some rare down time.

My husband and I have entered that phase of parenthood, or should I say our sons have entered that phase of their own lives, where down time is an anomaly.

The Presence of Parents: Always a Gift, Even for Teenagers

Toward the end of my daily commute to work, as I head 40 miles an hour down a state highway,  I have often seen a white Volvo parked at the edge of a driveway, its motor running and lights on. I often wondered if it was a unmarked police car. But then again, what police officers do you know who drive Volvo cruisers? Then, one day I was running late and a school bus stopped just before the driveway. I stopped too. A little girl got out of the Volvo, the bus drove off and then her father drove out the driveway.

Mystery revealed. Dad waits with his daughter in the car until the bus comes, then heads off to work.

These family rituals are so important.

Our family now consists of two working parents and two busy teenagers. (Boys who do not like their pictures taken) Long gone are the days when my husband and I would load our sons, in their pajamas, into the double stroller and walk to the ice cream parlor for an evening treat. Gone too, are the days when our sons and I would pretend to be asleep in the family room as their dad came in the door from work. The contest was who could be the last one to burst out laughing.

We've tried to find new routines for the young men are boys are becoming. A new tradition - I guess I can all it that because it is three weeks old - is picking up our younger son from the turf field after soccer practice Saturday afternoons and the four of us heading to Sunday vigil mass together. That gives us time Sunday mornings to eat chocolate chip pancakes with slab bacon - a new Lenten tradition.

Rush Limbaugh and High School Cafeterias

I hesitate to give any more oxygen to Rush Limbaugh and his mean-spirited "entertainment." His three-days-worth of on-air name calling of a 30-year-old Georgetown University law student ("slut" "prostitute") is only the latest incarnation of his penchant for making money spouting vulgarities. His remarks are gross and I am delighted he has lost 33 and counting sponsors. Perhaps inadvertently, he has managed to undermine real concerns about the lack of conscience protections for religious institutions in President Obama's health-care mandate.

Still, while politicians are taking to the airwaves to condemn Mr. Limbaugh's remarks,  in places as humble and as important as high school cafeterias, the name-calling of women continues. During lunch duty in a suburban high school cafeteria, I regularly hear words like "slut" "bitch" and "whore" flow from the mouths of seemingly sweet adolescent girls. And I wonder whether this generation of girls is growing up with any sense of themselves as special or beautiful.

The Curious Case of the Evaporative Dinners

Last night, I bought a frozen Paul Newman pizza for dinner and our 12 year old made a large salad. Since our family comes home for dinner in shifts, I took a tiny slice of pizza and warned the 12 year old to leave enough for dad and his older brother. Guess I should have written a memo to the teen: I returned to the kitchen about 20 minutes later and there was no sign of the pizza. Seems between the two boys, the pizza was gone. Evaporated. A friend who raised four children told me that all pizzas should come with a label saying that one pizza serves half a teenaged boy.

I ended up serving really emergency food - cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Yuck and Yikes.
My husband read on my facebook wall that I was heating it up and said he'd stop by the deli for a sandwich. 

Quiet Joy In A Quiet Home

Today I stayed home from my teaching job because our 15-year-old son had been up all night with a stomach bug. I napped. I washed the dishes. I walked our dog. I spent time downstairs talking quietly with our son.

By late afternoon, he was feeling better and headed upstairs. Our 12 year old came home after basketball practice, gobbled some fruit salad from a plastic bowl and went upstairs to read.

Downstairs alone in our family room, I could hear both boys in their separate bedrooms. The older boy was strumming his bass guitar. The little guy was lying on his bunk bed, turning the pages of a book.