Dermatologists

Back to School

I remember my first day of Kindergarten. Mom had to carry me into the classroom, and I didn't want her to leave. I probably cried. I remember she only convinced me to stay because Maggie Sullivan was also there, so I knew at least one person.

That's what I was thinking of when I was holding Damien, while all the students lined up for morning prayers. He wouldn't let me put him down. He was only OK with me putting him down because he has a little friend—a boy from one of the Latin Mass families is also in his class.

It's hard to let your firstborn go. I assume it'll be like this all the way up to college. It's also hard to trust anyone with him. But his Kindergarten teacher is a mom from St. Michael's homeschool group, whom we knew way back in the day. We've known our pastor since he was a seminarian. And the school rector used to work closely with mom at Sts. Peter and Paul. I'm still not sure they're worthy of caring for my little boy five days of the week, but this is as close as we'll ever fine.

Oh, plus his school has Mass for the students once a week, and Benediction and Adoration every Friday. Damien told us that the teacher's aide (the lower grades all have two teachers per class!) "took him to keep Jesus company." Which means I will work to the day I die to be able to afford this school, if for no other reason than the spirituality. I may not be able to go to daily Mass and weekly adoration anymore, but maybe he can pray for me instead.

He's had trouble the first couple weeks. All the fears I had about whether or not he was mature enough for school were not completely unfounded. He's only barely five—the second youngest in his class, his Latin Mass friend being six days younger (July 31st was the cut-off date for birthdays to get into Kindergarten). The usual stuff: he doesn't follow directions well (surprise!), he cries sometimes in unfamiliar circumstances, he takes forever in the bathroom (and plays instead of using the potty). In otherwords, he's just Damien.

We managed to cure him of the excitement of school by the second day. Monday, he woke up, excited. "I get to go to school‽" Tuesday, was a different story. "No, I already did that." Yep, and you get to do it for thirteen more years, kid.

But every day, when I pick him up, it's the same thing. "Did you have fun at school today?" "Yeah!" followed by ramblings of all the things he did. It's sometimes hard to figure out what a five year old's been up to all day, just from his description of events. Things like, he didn't get gummy bears but the other boys and girls did, he played on the park, he wrote his name. He always comes home with dirty knees and sand in his shoes, so he must be having some fun. For someone who's always known exactly where his child is and what he's doing, this is perhaps the hardest part. Simply not knowing what he's doing all day.

But I guess we have to let go and say goodbye sometime. Even if it's only for a few hours a day.

Spot the Difference

Can you spot the difference between these two boxes of oatmeal?

The one on the left tastes like apples and cinnamon, and the one on the right tastes like oatmeal-textured vomit.

No? How about from the back?

Still no? I'll help you out.

That's right, they arbitrarily reduced the sugar by a quarter without telling anyone. No, this isn't the low-sugar version (which has 6g of sugar). They just, y'know, started putting less sugar in it. Because. So now, instead of Market Pantry Apples and Cinnamon Oatmeal, they're selling Market Pantry Oatmeal-textured Vomit. Just 'cause.

The Butt Adventures of my Phone

So, a little while ago, my phone decided to go on a little butt adventure. Or my butt went on a phone adventure. Either way, the phone activated and unlocked in my pocket, while I was walking back to work from Mass, and had a gay old time with my butt. It was even courteous enough to take screenshots along the way, so I could find out what it was up to.

The first thing my butt did was try to access my Google wallet, probably to try and empty my bank account. Fortunately, it didn't know my pin (even though you can find it here), but I haven't trusted my butt since.

Next, it went into my contacts, and gave the Murloc a call. The Murloc didn't answer, so my butt left a voicemail, but didn't say anything.

After that, it loaded up Facebook and browsed around a bit. It liked one of Sara Harold's status updates.

To be fair, it was a pretty funny status update.

It also responded to an invite to attend a swing dance event that a friend was hosting. Apparently my buttl likes to swing dance.

Then things started to get a little weird.

My butt started researching homosexuality.

And shopping for books about homosexuality on Amazon.

I'm... really not sure what to make of this. Why is my butt so interested in sodomy? I don't think I really care to know.

It was about this time that I arrived back at work and pulled out my phone to turn off the pedometer, only to realize something was off. I quickly arrested control of the phone from my butt, and put an end to its shenanigans. I'm shudder to think what more it would have done had I let its adventure go on.

How to Build a Better Marriage: For Husbands

Our staff of experts has personally tested each and every one of these recommendations to ensure it will have a lasting impact on your marriage.

1. St. Pauls says "Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the church and handed himself over for her." (Eph 5:25) And how much did Christ love his church? Enough to be crucified for her. That's right, husbands, you are supposed to die on the cross for your wife, every moment of your marriage. If you at any point don't feel like you're dying a brutal, slow, and horrific death on a cruel instrument of torture, that means you're not loving your wife enough.
2. Your primary responsibility in this life is to provide for all your wife's needs and wants. You must make sure all her material needs are taken care of before you even think about doing a single thing for yourself. And she really does need a big house and a nice car. Forcing her to make do with less is, like, psychological torture. I'm sure St. Paul would agree. If you have a hard time making enough money to provide for all your wife's expensive needs, remember that you can sell some body parts. Christ gave his body for his church, so why won't you?
3. If you can't provide for her material needs, then you're basically a failure as a husband. In fact, that's a good argument that your marriage wasn't valid in the first place.
4. You should frequently compare yourself to other couples you know. Do they seem happy? Well, the external appearance is a reflection of their interior life. If they seem happier than you, then it must be because they are, probably because the man is a much better husband than you. Ponder all the ways that he's better than you, and all the extra things he does for his wife that you don't. Their happiness is probably in large part because he must make more money than you, so can therefore provide for all his wife's needs better than you.
5. If your wife ever does something to hurt you in some way, don't correct her. Asking her to change would put a burden on her, for the sake of making your own life easier, which is totally selfish. In fact, she probably didn't do anything wrong to begin with. It was probably your subconscious mind playing tricks on you to make you think she did, to give you an excuse to make your own life easier at her expense, you selfish jerk.
6. Never burden your wife with your own problems. Christ carried his own cross, and so should you. Well, except for that time Simon of Cyrene helped him, so unless your married to him, you shouldn't ever ask for your wife's help if you're struggling with something. Again, that would be burdening your wife for your own benefit. Instead, just suffer in silence, and never let on that anything's wrong. Besides, if she really loves you, she'll figure out what's wrong and offer to help anyways.
7. Asking your wife to do anything she doesn't want to that would benefit you is, like, the most selfish thing in the universe. This goes doubly so for sex. If you ask your wife for sex, and she doesn't want to, then just asking has pressured her, because The Patriarchy™ has instilled into her an obligation to please you. And pressuring her is basically marital rape. So if you have the slightest reason to suspect that your wife might not be in the mood, asking her for sex is as bad as raping her.
8. In fact, if you don't have incontrovertible proof that she does want sex right this second, then you probably shouldn't bring up the topic. Only if she is climbing on top of you and pulling your pants off are you allowed to think about asking her for sex. But even then, that's an edge case, since she's probably been guilt-tripped into wanting to please you by The Patriarchy™.
9. She did all the hard work of carrying, giving birth to, and nursing the baby. That means it's your turn now. She shouldn't ever have to lift a finger for them. If she has to change a diaper, that's, like a mortal sin for you. If you were at work to provide for her material needs when she changes a diaper, then it's only a venial sin, although a better husband would find a job that allowed him to do both.
10. What quality do all saints have? They're happy! And what do happy people not do? They don't grumble or mutter, even interiorly. If you find yourself thinking grumbly thoughts, then that means you're not a saint.