Me 1, Credit Card Company 0

If all else fails, threaten legal action.

So back in April I paid off one of my credit cards with part of my tax refund and canceled it because of the outrageous finance charges. I got a bill of almost $80 from them this month and called to find out what was going on. After arguing with the customer care rep for about ten minutes straight she finally explained that even though I canceled the card and closed the account they were still billing for finance charges. After the date the card was paid in full and account closed.

So I asked the lady "So what you're telling me is that even though the account is closed and paid in full, your company is still charging me a fee? That doesn't sound very legal." She quickly asked me to hold so she could "see what she could do". Not five minutes later her manager gets on the phone and informs me that my balance is now $0.00 and I should not receive another bill.

On one hand I'm relieved but on the other I wonder just how many people this company is trying to screw over?

The Presence of Children During Worship

Last weekend I took George with me on a trip to Comanche to help my best friend, Melisa, and her family get settled into their new home. Melisa's husband, Fr. Tim, is the new vicar of the parishes in Comanche and Dublin. We were both a bit nervous about the reaction to having an infant and a toddler would be to these tiny parishes that have no young children.

I think Melisa was as pleasantly shocked as I was when we received numerous compliments on our children. The most common phrase I heard was "It's so nice to have babies here again, when are you coming back?" Maybe shocked isn't a strong enough word. I was floored. When George started fussing, I got a few sympathetic smiles before he calmed down.

What a difference to my home parish! I found it rather ironic that although St. Alban's has many children, the attitude towards children in church is nearly the opposite. During most of the service the older kids are in Children's Chapel, a separate room where they learn watered-down versions of the day's Gospel. The younger children, toddlers and preschoolers, are in the nursery during most if not all of the service.

For a while, I had tried to keep George in the sanctuary during the whole service so that he would begin to understand the importance of Mass at the earliest age possible. Unfortunately, that was not what he had in mind. He's a toddler, and acted like any normal toddler would when someone tries to get them to sit still for a long period of time. He wouldn't throw a screaming tantrum, but would fuss loudly for a few seconds at a time.

I don't want to sound uncharitable towards my fellow parishioners so I will not go into details of the reactions towards my son in the past couple of months. Suffice it to say that I have felt most unwelcome in the last few weeks for being the mother of a normal toddler.

I think some parishes have gotten so used to children that the tolerance level for normal baby noises is extremely low, while parishes that don't have many children around are so grateful for the presence of babies that they welcome the noise.

If you have thoughts or opinions about this, please share them.

They grow up so fast...

Last week we converted George's crib to a toddler bed because he had been very good about falling asleep when we laid him down drowsy. After a couple of spills onto the hardwood floor, Sean laid down a couple of pillows.

This morning I had George in his room and upstairs hallway playing while I worked on the newsletter. Around noon I realized that I wasn't hearing any noise, so I snuck into his room and what did I see? George was sitting on the floor with his head laying on the bed with a pool of drool under his face. He looked up at me drowsily and I gently swung his legs onto the mattress. After tucking his quilt around him the result is the above picture.

I'm still a little amazed that he put himself down for a nap and even tried to get into bed. Must have been too tired to climb all the way.

A Blessed Easter to You!

What a joyful time of the year. This Easter, amid all of the stress, has helped me to count my blessings. George and Sean, our safe home, food in our mouths, and extended family that love us unceasingly. And our friends. My heart is breaking because two of my best friends are moving away in a few months, but I am reminded to enjoy the time we have left.

Have a Blessed Easter, Y'all!

And We're...Walking...

It finally happened, George started to walk last night. Now he does not want to be still at all, but on his feet exploring the world. This morning we went to Calloway's to get ideas for the front yard, and he was delighted to see all the pretty flowers on his level. This afternoon we played out in the front yard where he got to explore the grass. Of course he takes a few spills but a kiss from Mama makes everything better. Yup.

You Know You're Anglican When...

...dressing your child, you get him to raise his arms for his shirt by saying "raise them up" and then fight the urge to continue..."if they fall, and in their hearts keep thy peace which passes all understanding..."

...someone quotes from either Star Wars or Spaceballs with "May the Force/Schwartz be with you" and you reply with "and also with you" or "and with thy spirit"...

...you coordinate the color of your Sunday clothes with the Church calendar...





yes. I have.

Lent

May you have a blessed and holy Lent. George sends his love.


edit: Yes, shame on me for taking pictures with my phone during the Ash Wednesday service....but if I hadn't, you wouldn't get to see this adorable face all ashed up. He had pretty much wiped most of it off by the time we left.

Just Because

Oh no! She caught me...

Mom, I can do it myself!

See?

Yawn...time for a nap.

and because Mom couldn't resist....the "look"

What a Birthday

This has been. I've spent most of it on the couch, curled under a blanket, heat patch on my back, desperately trying to find a position that does NOT cause excruciating pain to shoot through my back and legs, and playing Fallout3. A few trips upstairs to tend to George (who, unfortunately, has been playing or sleeping in his crib ALL day), and that's it.

It hurts to walk, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to sit, it hurts to stand up, it hurts to bend over. It hurts even more to walk up the stairs or pick up George. The Dr. at CareNow (that I spent 3 hours at on Valentine's Day, so romantic, huh?) said I don't have kidney stones. That's the good news.

Bad news? She thinks it's just a strained muscle.

I have had strained muscles before. It didn't hurt like this.

The painkiller, Tramadol, she gave me (along with the muscle relaxer) knocks me out for a good 5 hours. However, Sean went into work today so I am home alone with George. I would rather put up with the pain than be unconscious if he happened to get hurt or hungry. Driving is also a no-no. If I were to have one of those muscle spasms while I was driving (especially since now it's starting to creep down my right leg), I could possible get into a wreck. So here I sit, too tired to go back downstairs, trying to decide whether or not to get dressed (yes, at almost 6pm), again trying to find a sitting position that doesn't induce a spasm.

When I blow out my candles, I'mma wish for a new back.

Rock-A-Bye Baby

There is not much that tops rocking George to sleep. The books say that rocking your baby to sleep every night is a bad habit and they become accustomed to it. If you know me, you know I am not a big fan of the books.

No matter how hectic the day or how frustrating his temper tantrums were, when I hear the not so little snores coming from the creature in my arms I am at peace. His closed eyes and pursed lips are so kissable that I must restrain myself for fear of waking him up. Then I kiss his forehead anyway.

A soft grunt and he snuggles against me, still snoring.