Ash Wednesday

I do not have pictures of my precious children with ashes on their foreheads because we went to a parish not our own where apparently the pastor will not distribute ashes to children. Children younger than the age of reason cannot sin (true), therefore he thinks that the symbolism of the ashes is all wrong. As a mama, I was disappointed and I'll be looking into the truth of his theological idea. If children shouldn't receive the sacramental of ashes, then why do we have children crossing themselves with the sacramental of holy water which remits sins (even if they can't sin yet)? Why do we have them pray the Our Father ("forgive us our trespasses, lead us not into temptation . . .")?

All that aside, we had a great Mass experience. We are actively trying to teach John to behave at Mass and last through it. Part of our tactic is to start taking him to one weekday Mass per week in addition to Sunday so he gets more practice. Last week I began offering him a "special cookie" after Mass if he could be quiet. I'm focusing on teaching him to be quiet first and foremost before tackling other behaviors like sitting still in the pew. For these first few weeks, I want to ingrain in his mind that there is a reward for good behavior, so he'd basically have to throw a gigantic tantrum for me not to give him the cookie. When we were getting ready this morning, I told him that we were going to Mass and he immediately replied, "Buy cookie?" He remembered! Then he did great (for him) and lasted through the entire Mass without being taken out once (perhaps for the first time!). When we went to the bakery, I let him choose his own treat, which was this gigantic chocolate cupcake covered in artificially colored frosting in the shape of a fish. (I am on a diet to lose my pregnancy weight, so feeding John this cupcake while I ate none was about as fun as cooking him my fabulous homemade fettuccine Alfredo yesterday while I ate low-fat, low-cal food.)
Proud boy with his special treat:

Pretty girl dressed up for Mass:

I've had "angels" (so to speak) minister to me at the last two weeks of daily Masses. It's very humbling to have a toddler, I'm learning. They are loud and cause much embarrassment. I've learned that what makes me so angry as a parent is actually the feeling of my own impotence, not the child's behavior per se. Last week I was at Mass alone with the children and valiantly sat in the third row because every single mother I've asked has said that sitting way up front helps the children because they have something to watch. I felt like all eyes were on us as John squirmed and made little noises and I burned with shame. Yet when we left, three different strangers pulled me aside to say the exact same words: "Your children are precious." I came away thinking that God was reminding me that my children are precious. I should be so blessed as to have a wild toddler to teach the Mass because the alternative is not having a toddler at all. (I suppose there is a mythical third alternative that I could have some innately perfectly well-behaved toddler whom I don't have to teach, but I think that is a myth for sure!)

At today's Mass, I believe the Holy Ghost sent me more "angels" for reassurance. Chris and I debated where to sit and again bravely decided to sit in the third row, which turned out to be in the same spot right in front of the elderly woman I sat in front of last week (must be her regular spot). Before Mass began, she whispered to me, "Your children won't bother me. They won't bother me! I raised nine children." That made me feel so much more comfortable. Part way through the Mass, she gave John a holy card, which he loved. Then later another elderly man whom I don't know leaned over and whispered to me that I should have many more children. Here I was burning with shame that my 26-month-old still won't sit still and quiet through an hour of Mass but this man saw something so beautiful or good that he thinks I merit having more of these kids? Then after Mass ended, I thanked the woman again for the holy card. She asked John's name and said that she too has a John, and we talked about her 15 grandchildren. I asked her if she had any tips for teaching children the Mass. She said, "No, honey, just take it one day at a time." I asked her, "Well, how do you think John is doing?" She laughed and said, "He's doing beautifully!" No one should be surprised that I burst into tears.