Gabby's First Communion

Not everybody gets a message wishing them "Mazel Tov on your First Communion!" so thanks, Mini, for your message of love from Israel on Gabby's special day!

And it was special, in so many ways! My Mom made it in, to help with all the last minute, frantic preparations. How were we going to entertain 30 people in this shoebox? I prayed. It worked. 70's and sunny, we spilled out mostly into the backyard. But not before we pushed out a few sweat beads in the church . . .


Gabby made her First Communion alone, not with her class. It was an option presented for families with other commitments, and we were happy to take it. On the official day, Kit and I had Girl Scout Encampment, and John, Gabby and Jack went to Connecticut to celebrate Bella's First Communion. This way, Gabby wouldn't be fussing in a sea of 50+ Communicants, we wouldn't be missing Fleming VIPs like Grandma and Pop, and Gabby would get to watch Bella, and anticipate her own big day. To add to that special weekend, Grandma Fleming took Gabby to buy a dress, and Bella passed on her veil.


Fr. Bill had met with us earlier in the week. That was a Fleming circus with all three kids running around the empty church. For single Communicants like Gabby, Fr. Bill usually invited them up on the altar for the Eucharistic Prayer. It was clear that Jack was only going to be happy if he got to go where Gabby was, and it was clear that if Gabby was going to be on the altar, the only place for her was in the pulpit. So we decided against that bonus. We were already infiltrating the service with Auntie Kitty set to be a Eucharistic minister, to give Gabby her first sip of wine (thus saving her from drinking the entire cup); and the little bouquet of cousins, Kit, Gabby, Fiona and Hannah taking up the gifts. With 14 family members expected to attend the church, we reserved two pews.


So Saturday night came, we welcomed everybody in from Jersey, sent them back to their hotel to change and made it to the church on time. Well, we made it, but . . . "They'll be here," we assured Fr. Bill, and Mass began. Gabby processed in with the altar servers and Fr. Bill but was clearly not happy that she did not get to continue up onto the altar. So she stood in the aisle and pouted, like a little miffed bride.

That of course, was not nearly enough drama for a Saturday night, so we continued with the operatic strains of Jack who just wanted to go! So John took him out, leaving me, my mom, Kit, and Gabby in two big long empty pews.

When Gabby's Catechism aide appeared (wasn't that sweet? I think she saw how empty our pews were and came to join us), I leaned back to her and whispered "I think you're going to have to take up some gifts!" Fortunately, right before the Gospel (which is as late as you can get and still have Mass "count") the rest processed in. Even John came back with Jack. It was close!



So, aside from Jack's continual whining, and Gabby the hostess working the pews, making sure she sat next to every single family member, the ceremony turned out great. The diamond moment came just after taking the bread and wine. Gabby settled herself back into the pew next to Nora this time and Nora said, "I'm so proud of you Gabby! What did you just have?"

Gabby answered, "I ate Christ."

No on had ever said those words to her. They were hers alone. Later, her Catechism teacher would say, "Leave it to Gabby, of all the kids, to get it." We have to believe, in some way, that that's true.


The lobby afterward was filled with Jack crying and us not getting photos and everybody talking and strangers congratulating Gabby, two in particular I will remember. They were young, and obviously sent over to us by their father who I turned to see was talking to father Bill. Couldn't Jack have just unleashed my leg for one moment? I guess I was not yet meant to meet Tim Shriver (Eunice Shriver's son, the man who is carrying Special Olympics forward). Maybe another Sunday . . .





The rest was a real summer celebration, with lots of children, wine and glowsticks. And just when it really didn't matter anymore, a perfectly happy Jack.

Gimme Three Good Reasons. Ok, Four.

I asked a friend today, Is your name Mommy? Or, Mommymommmymommymommymommy? As usual, my life is too much chocolate cake. All good, just too much of good. It has been a long week! The anvil hanging over my head is that we are living like farm animals and have Gabby's First Communion next week. Lots of folks coming in town; John is out of town. Not sure how I am going to find the floors before then BUT. . . . in the meantime . . .

This week marked my first kids yoga classes at the Y . . .as in Yeah! They were fun, and the kids loved them. Thursday's 5-7 year old group gave me the best compliment: a big moan at the end. "It's OVER??" "That's IT??" "That was like . . 10 minutes!!!!" But I think it was all about the foot massage during savasana. I'll make it longer. All those little toes . . . They have just started to learn that they love to relax. I know I'm still working on that!

The best part about Thursday, though, leads me to another "Why I LOVE the Y" moment. Stuck without a sitter, in desperation, I signed Kit up for my yoga class (actually she asked); I signed Jack up for a soccer class, and Gabby, well, they were going to throw her into an aftercare classroom. Very nice of them. When I showed up for my class they happily grabbed all three kids and threw them in the office with a big pile of books (nirvana for Flemings). Kit showed up to my class on her own on time. That was easy enough. When I got done, I learned that in order to get a stubborn Jack to soccer, they had Gabby take him. They added a counselor-in-training to the soccer class, kept Gabby in it and everyone won. She has never lasted in an outdoor class. All that green space calling her to run. But somehow they knew she was ready for this one. The coach wanted her there, and they did the right thing getting a backup in case she headed for the park or the woods. They really get it. So she is now signed up for rookie soccer. With Jack. It sounds like money suckage until you do the real math here: everybody gets an activity and I STILL make 10 bucks. Did I mention I love the Y?


Then there was the Mother's Day yoga workshop I did with Geneva. I was so wiped out by Saturday, and sick of juggling it all without John (who went to London) I really just wanted to take the class. I got Jack a sitter; Gabby and Kit came with me. Gab is one amazing yogi. It was a lovely workshop though not my best teaching moment. A long day, but a good one: any day spent with the Wattenpaugh family is a good one! Kit and Amelia were all sprightly and giggly. Afterwards, Brian and G brought burgers and wine. Brian took over my kitchen, managed to find everything (amazing!) and basically took care of us at chez Fleming while the kids continued to run and run and run around the backyard. G and I just needed wine and decompression.

Note this date in history: Gabby mastered the monkey bars! I had heard a rumor she did it Friday at school, but I got to see it for myself. She has been working diligently at this for over a year. She is one happy monkey!


So finally, after weeks of daily obligation, we had our first Sunday morning without anything to run to. (Sunday school is over for now.) And the kids were SO wiped out, I could see they were going to sleep for a good long while. Ahhhhhhh. Then someone's car alarm went off at 3 am. Undeterred, I fell back asleep. Until 6:30, when Kit woke me with the news that it is MOTHER"S DAY! And she JUST MADE BREAKFAST! She also made me a DOUBLE ESPRESSO!!!!
Jack and Gabby slept until late. Then Jack got up to give me his Mother's Day present: He said "I wanna go to church." And do you know, the little bugger made it all the way through Mass?! Too bad for him there were no donuts, so after a couple of passes on the monkey bars at Our Lady of Mercy, we headed to Dunkin Donuts (blechhhh!) bought an entire dozen, and went home for Mother's Day Brunch: Donuts and bowls of vegetables, with big cups of milk. See what John is missing?


So now it is heading toward midnight. Delays, I fear. We'll see just when he gets his volcanic ash home. Baby #1 needs a walk!