Ava's First Communion

This Saturday, Ava will receive her first holy communion. This is a big deal in our family; we're Catholic. But, we also love puppies and Gene Wilder movies so don't go getting all judgey. My dad actually converted to Catholicism just recently, but he has always a been a fervent supporter in the Sunday morning ritual of 'waking' the 'sleeping' children who on this one day of the week when sleeping in and being seen as resting so beautifully with so much mercy would be an absolute Godsend except that of course you can't physically oversleep on a church day. You can't. Like you will not fall asleep as you lay in your bed staring at the clock knowing you are the only one in this hemisphere still awake even though if you don't fall asleep soon you're going to fall asleep in chemistry, miss the one vital key to understanding anything ever and drooling on your desk in front of cute, smart boys. Life is so unfair. Anyhow, we would be rousted from the beds we truly didn't want to be in anymore but you don't ever show your cards that soon. You never know when your parents might be hit by an errant puff of euphoria and nostalgia and maybe they'll want you to spend your Sunday morning in a sunny spot eating toast instead of standing, sitting, standing, kneeling, sitting, standing, singing, kneeling, audibly digesting your own empty, empty stomach, and then finally kneeling on a small, pointy rock. But, no. Here you are squished into the car on the way to church. Mom and dad are all cologne and perfume and breath mints in the front seat while in the back seat it's all pissy and tired, someone else's socks, not a damn thing to eat, and then out of nowhere, "HOLY JES**!! Someone is spraying perfume in my eyes!!! Why would you DO" "get out of the car! We're late!" "But my eyes!" "Stop yelling! We're late! We're almost inside, lower your voice!" And when it seemed it couldn't get any worse, dad would whisper in your ear as you slid into your seat "And when we get home, you need to clean the litter box. There was cat crap in the laundry this morning! (Pause) Where'd you find that shirt?" And then the priest starts in, "Good morning my friends. (I'm already losing consciousness) On this beautiful, faithful morning, we find ourselves giving of our time freely to The Lord. Today's mass is the longest in our season as we have much to discuss..." So, I was saying, we're Catholic. First communion is a big deal. To this point in our family, the girls have all worn the same traditional dress starting with Grandma Shirley. It is beautiful and delicate and I am terrified to put it on Ava. Probably just for pictures. We purchased a new first communion dress for Ava because the traditional one is so fragile. I would like to have photos of her in it. Tragically, the photos of me in this dress were lost due to a really bad perm and two front teeth that refused to stop growing. My train of thought may be derailing. Last night, I was telling Jeff about my first communion party. My grandpa and grandma, uncles and aunts, cousins a plenty; it was great. And I began to realize how things change over time. Uncle Tom won't be there force feeding me Teddy Grahams. We won't have a solid 45% of the state's cowboy boots and belt buckles on site. Probably no garbage can lid shields and sticks and HUGE VHS recorders. What will there be? There will be Georgetown Cupcakes. Lots of them. These are serious cupcakes. In flavors like salted caramel and Irish cream. And there will be family. Not all of us, but enough of us to cause some sort of issue for someone unrelated to our group. It's what we do. So, on Saturday Ava will wear her new dress and the traditional one, she will receive her first communion, we will eat cupcakes, and so help me God, no one will get perfume in their eyes. Should be a pretty nice day.