This weekend was, as you may have noticed, Easter. Holy Week is always one of my big weeks of the year. Last week I went to church 5 of 8 days: Palm Sunday, session on Tuesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and then Easter Sunday. A fellow session member turned to me on Good Friday and said, “I think I might live here now.” I think she might be right. In other news, for the first time in my 8 years doing it, the light on the parking lot stayed on throughout Good Friday services.
But Easter is usually a big service for me because I’m usually playing trumpet. For once, I picked a good combination of relatively easy trumpet pieces, practiced them ahead of time and rehearsed them adequately. (See also: Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday) But between playing the prelude and postlude, singing in the choir for the anthem and the Benediction Response (Hallelujah Chorus), doing the session-leader bit for welcoming new members (YAY new members!) and playing with the hymns, it was not even remotely possible for me to take care of my children for the service. This usually falls to my patient husband.
Then my patient husband got conscripted to be head usher and wander around in a vain attempt to count all the people in the church. (We kept moving. This was not very fair of us.) Errr…. Happily one of my friends took custody of my kids for the whole service. She did a better job of keeping Thane quiet and happy than I do!
I posted some church pictures to Facebook — I’m hoping they’re viewable even if you’re not signed in.
In other news, I’m interviewing preschools for Grey for the fall. I really wish I felt more like I knew what I was doing instead of being a big fat imposterer. “Dear preschools. My son is really smart, but he needs to learn stuff. Please take him. kthxbye.” Happily, a side effect of parenting has been an increased tolerance for realizing I have no clue what I’m doing.
I found one preschool that I think will be ok. I want Grey to go part day to preschool and part day to daycare. That’s concern one — along with transportation. Concern two is which class to put him in — do we make him the oldest of the young kids or the youngest of the old kids? And if we do the youngest of the old kids, do we have him repeat Kindergarten twice? Once in private preschool and once in public? Do I attempt to enroll him in public schools early? (Darn October birthdays!) Basically, is there one or two years before he starts Kindergarten? I think two, which argues for the earlier preschool class.
Bah. Do other people fret as much as I do about this kind of decision? This is the kind of decision I make and remake for years. (I’m still wondering whether we should’ve bought the house, for example.)
All this is really just a preamble to what I KNOW y’all really want — pictures. Herein please find a slightly more balanced representation of my oldest and my youngest. You get to see my mother-in-law and friends, Easter pictures, an unseasonably early trip to the Middlesex Fells reservation, and actual pictures of my husband and I! Shocking! I also fixed the video links (I think — I didn’t, you know, test) for last month.