Happy Birthday to the USMC

Busy day here...masons, car work, speech therapist, dance, and chaperoning for the teenagers...so here's a retro Happy 234th Birthday shout out to the USMC from when I had time to assemble long posts last year, and a big THANK YOU to all our Veterans....please please please take a moment to pray for those who have fallen while serving our country, all those who have served honorably in our past, those serving presently, and for the brave souls who will be our Marines, soldiers, seamen, and airmen of the future.

Thank you all for your service!!!

Happy Birthday!!!

Our little Therese is 12 today. She spent her birthday weekend babysitting so I could watch the Princess cheer at her last football home game, going to vounteer at a food pantry, attending another friend's party, (insisting that she did not want to have a party of her own, and would rather have dinner out at her favorite diner and be with "just the family" with a simple home-made cake) and is spending this birthday night attending her first training session for Youth Court.

She is a blessing each and every day.

Feast of St. Francis

Well, it's a bit late in the evening, but I was reflecting with the girlies earlier about how it's been five years since we were climbing the hills and trudging the beautiful cobbled streets of Assissi, watching all the processions and even sneaking into the Basilica at the tail-end of Mass...getting lost but then gloriously found when we finally reached St. Clare's abbey...what an experience! Sadly, all of my pictures are still locked up in the scrambled brain of my dead laptop, waiting to be extracted, or I'd share a few.

Fast forward to 2009. I watched Mass and Benediction today on EWTN, and was glad to see that Mother Angelica and Deacon Bill Steltenmeier (sp?) received "Pro Ecclesia" medals from the Pope for their advancement of the Faith through the network. Say what you will about the individual personalities involved, the Fr. Francis debacle from a few years back...but I am a fan and a supporter. Not only have I learned a lot over the years, but I find a lot of comfort in knowing that I can watch Mass, have the Rosary on in the background as my "white noise" when I'm doing housework, and heck yeah - I'll take a "Mother Angelica Live" morning rerun over "The View" any day. So thanks to Mother Angelica and her Poor Clares, the good Franciscan priests and laypeople who serve there, and to Sts. Francis and Clare for their inspiration.

Shhhhhhh!!!!!!

Don't look now...but I have NOTHING on my calendar tomorrow after 12 pm, Saturday is clear, and there's no cheerleading practice on Sunday.

Please, dear Lord...let us be activity and disaster-free for those 60 precious hours...

I hit the $5 movie rack at Target again...this is becoming a sickness...but I got "Rebecca" with my secret childhood romantic idol...Sir Laurence Olivier.

Can't wait!!!

What I haven't been doing...

I just realized that I have not watched the evening news (or anything, actually) since the Beloved was here back in June for Princess' prom. I turned my bedroom tv on to check the weather for tomorrow (a day without rain?!?) and realized it was tuned to ESPN.

I NEVER watch ESPN unless he's here.

:(

My ONE single day (including Sundays) without 2-4 different kid-related practices, speech therapy, or other things to do was this past Saturday. It poured. We watched Pride & Prejudice (1995...Colin Firth, baby!) all night and I made fabulous blender drinks. The great thing about this new blender is that it has dual blades, so I can make a cold adult beverage on one side and a cold child's beverage on the other. Frozen lemonade with fresh strawberries....and a nice ZING of Grey Goose for the Mamma.

:)

But it would've been great to enjoy it while snuggled up with my Beloved watching ESPN. Or, better yet, watching P&P...

Divine!!!

Got Stock? (As in St. SIMON?!?)

Hahaha....

Today is the Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, and the Feast of the Scapular of Mt. Carmel. On this day in 1251, our Blessed Mother appeared to St. Simon Stock and presented him with the scapular and promises special favors and protection to those who wear the scapular.

I've had to fight to wear mine each time I've had a baby or any other sort of minor surgery - the best was my knee arthroscopy about 4 years ago. My good Irish Catholic orthopaedic surgeon, who is a quiet, sweet and soft-spoken man, told the OR nurse to back off when she got testy with me for refusing to remove it (in case of emergency breathing issues under anaesthesia, they want a clear shot at your throat). He then very reverently removed it and wrapped it around my wrist, lacing it through my fingers so that it rested in my palm, and crossed my forehead. As usual, I got a little verkelmpt. But for the first time since they rolled me into the OR, I felt completely relaxed, at peace, and ready to go under.

The (very Americanized)young Indian anaesthesiologist was intrigued by all of this, and asked me what "it" was, and what it meant. I told him the deal and he said "That's really beautiful! I've never heard of that and I've never seen one of those before Cool!" and then to his colleague, "Man, I never knew you were such a religious guy, that's great!"

So wear your scapular - don't be shy - there's so much to be gained for your own soul, and for Team Rome! Here's mine:

It's the Cross of the Crusaders....quite fitting, when one lives in the DOR, really. :)

The Princess wears Our Lady of Lourdes/Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, the Beloved carries - but does not wear - his Confirmation name saint, St. Jude (a natural choice, given who his bride is...) and our Little Therese has the Holy Face, which was blessed at the EWTN 25th Anniversary celebration in Birmingham by the late Alfonso Cardinal Lopez-Trujillo, who led the Pontifical Council for the Family. She ran up to him as he crossed the street and asked him to bless it, he bent down, took it in his hand, blessed her and beamed at her and said "it is so beeeaauuutiful! And so are you, precious little one!" Again, I was verklempt.

So....that's ours. What does yours look like? And if you don't have one, why not? Spend the $5 for this wonderful devotional - keep it tucked in close, and if you're asked, hey - you might just reach into a heart or two.

To the Little Boy

Dearest Little Boy,

It's me, Mamma.

Please start talking to Mamma. I'd love to hear your little voice saying stuff to Mamma. The hooting, squealing, giggling, and screeching are good.

"I love you, Mamma" would be great.

The nice speech therapy ladies always tell me how much they love you. But it's nowhere near how much I love you. And even though you haven't said so, I know how much you love Mamma and Dadda and your big sissy and your glasses-having sissy, because your oh-so-tight hugs, sweet and gentle kisses, babba and Sesame Street-time snuggles, and neck-sniffing nuzzles are nothing short of phenomenal. They tell me all I need to know, but there's so much more I want to know...and I can't wait for you to tell me all about so many, many things.

But guess what? Even if you never say a word, I will love you forever beyond measure.

Just thought you should know.

xxxooo,
Mamma

Flag Day

I am ashamed to admit it, but we don't currently have a flag! It blew away last summer. (It's flown from outside our bedroom window, so definitely an act of weather, not teens/terrorists)

However, at the family picnic today, I wore a red tanktop, a white blouse, blue jeans....and my totally patriotic stars and stripes Birkenstocks....and in so doing, horrified the more footwear-fashion-conscious of my children accordingly.

Ha!

This week in sports...a recap

Well, friends, if you read the post below, you know how this past week has ended, but let's get back to where it started.

Part One: Psycho Redux

On Tuesday, late in the balmy evening, Princess and I were up - way past bedtime - having a long discussion about life, boys, relationships with Tall Boys, prom, colleges, that kinda stuff. We heard Jack the Vicious Predator running about up on the third floor, presumably slaying some socks or maybe chasing a moth around.

Until we heard the frantic chirpy squeaking coming down the stairs toward my bedroom.

Yes, to those who have experienced it, you never forget the sound of a BAT in your house. I don't like rodents. Winged rodents produce a combination of rage and panic that I don't like to admit I'm capable of feeling all at once. But I do. So I slammed the bedroom door shut and sent the bat averse but less freaked out Princess to shut the baby's door as well as Therese's. (She has her uses. And besides, she's the idiot who left her unscreened window open at night!)

Jack emerged from the stairwell and had his live squeaky toy in his mouth and decided to share his good fortune with her - after all, she is one of his harem of strangely furless kittens, and he provides for us all, in his strange sock-slaying way. So he trotted toward her and let it go and it shot up and then swooped at her. Oh, the screaming...so she came back in my room with little Therese hot on her heels, slammed the door and we giggled like the nervous fools we were. We heard Jack leaping and bounding in the hallway, then sometime after 3 am the squeaky sounds stopped. We decided to remain barricaded in and let nature take its course.

The next morning, we crept through the house with brooms in hand, looking around for the bat and/or its carcass. Nothing. So we figured Jack took care of business. I kept all the doors shut upstairs and went on with the interminable kitchen painting project from the time the girls left until sometime after 8:00. That night, we were still apprehensive after the sun went down, and none of us could sleep. We shut ourselves in my room again for the night, told bat jokes, wished that daddy was here, etc. All quiet on the Western NY front.

Thursday morning, as I had promised to let Princess sleep in after two nights of less than three hours of sleep, I decided to take a quick shower in my master bathroom while she ate breakfast. I got the water to its ideal temperature, hopped in, pulled the cutain shut...and there, hanging upside down in the folds of the shower curtain and less than 18 inches from my face, was the largest, fattest brown bat I've ever seen. I screamed for my Lord and Saviour's assistance and was about halfway down the stairs, the right half of me soaked from head to toe, completely naked, before I recollected myself and where and who I was. Princess thought I was being murdered, came to the stairs and gaped at me. I pulled myself straight up, sucked in my gut, tried to look casual in my nekkidness, and said to her: "Ummm, yeah....I found the bat. In the shower with me, hanging off the curtain. Go get it."

"ME?!?"

"Well yeah, it's not like I'm going back in there!"

"Why me? You're the adult, you're supposed to protect us!"

"I gave you life."

"Damn you and your uterus, woman..."

"You'll say it to your kids someday. Now go get a broom and a box"

She complied, I dressed myself, gathered what little dignity I had left and held the box while she put on a thick glove, held an inverted plastic bag, snatched the bat off the curtain, shoved it in the bag and stuffed it in the box and duct-taped the box shut.

Living as close as we do to the river, bats are fairly common around here. Unfortunately, there are a few cases of rabies reported in the county (carried by bats, passed on to squirrels, raccoons, and unvaccinated cats) every year. Bat contact is never a good idea. Waking up with a bat in the room is an automatic invite to the doctor for rabies shots. Because they have tiny teeth, bat bites are hard to detect unless you are awake and aware that a bat has bitten you. Out of 17 human bat-strain rabies fatalities in the 90's, only one person was aware of an actual contact and bite - he just didn't report it because he didn't think it was a big deal. Then he died. We cleverly sealed the bat into the bedroom/adjoining bathroom with us for at least one night. NOT cool. So I took the bat to the county wildlife/environmental office, they froze it to death, and did rabies testing. Mercifully, we got the all clear late on Friday. (They've had two positives in the past month). Jack's getting a booster shot just to be safe.

Part Two: Client Catastrophe

In the midst of all the bat chaos, I was supposed to have a hearing Friday on a case that I lost on a technicality (no gory details, but the former atty screwed something up and my efforts to unscrew it initially failed), I then appealed, won on appeal, and this was my big day with the client - 11 years after her accident, 4 years after she filed her claim - and then she had a death in the family and we had to postpone. I was SO ready to go back in...but that's okay. I'll be ready when we have our day in August. Just a scramble to get in touch with the judge, get a fax in for the record, and not make an even worse impression on a judge who doesn't like being appealed....and then there's a lot of mental prep work and framing of arguments and evidence in my head the whole week leading up to the hearing, now for naught. I spent the weekend painting 27 cabinets, 13 drawers, and a half-mile (or so it seemed) of crown moulding and clearing it from my head.

Part Three: The Weekend War

As all this drama was unfolding, more strife on the teenage front. They went to a party on Sunday night (no school Monday), he behaved badly and embarrassed her, she called him on it, his friends rebuked him as well, he didn't like it one bit, and he snapped at her in front of a group of people. Things remain tense between them, and it is taking a toll - perhaps a fatal one - on the relationship. But he finally listened to her, with help from his friends' observations of his behavior, and has pledged to work on his temper and his snappish-of-late attitude toward her and life in general. Life-changing, end-of-era stress is my diagnosis. Too little, too late seems to be hers. I'm sad for both of them. It will be a difficult summer.

Part Four: Sudden Impact....and Surprise!

For over a month, I have been harboring a huge secret...The Beloved is home! We planned a sneaky surprise visit for Prom night. He didn't want to miss it, or to miss the chance to menace the Tall Boy with an impressive array of K-Bar and Nepalese Ghurka knives as well as firearms. I have been striving NOT to screw it up, made a few slips that the girls did not figure out...and we managed to pull it off. But it wasn't easy, and here's why:

A. I got 45 minutes of sleep Tuesday night. Remember those 27 cabinets? Well, each of them requires 10-15 screws. We own two electric screwdrivers. The Beloved is not real great with organization in his man-room in the basement. I couldn't find the charger for either one. After 4 cabinets, I was re-hanging them all, screwing the hardware on and then mounting them back on....by hand. I think I have arthritis now - seriously. They still hurt. And it took me all night, even with the Princess helping me until 3 or so. And she had no idea why I was doing this, scrambling to get it done before the Beloved arrived. She just helped because she saw that I was desperate to be done and wanted to be there battling at my side. Good kid.

B. I got hit by a car 45 minutes before the flight was due to come in! You can't make this sh*t up. Really. I was makingthe requested pot roast for the Beloved's homecoming and realized, at 1:30, that I had no carrots. Princess has been eating like a rabbit in the run-up to prom. So I had to book out to the store to get carrots. As I was walking in, a 75 year old woman backed out of her parking spot without looking back and clipped me at the hip/thigh, knocking me to the ground. Fortunately, I saw it coming and leapt out of the way, and I have some serious assets going on, and so I bounced back up like the Bumble, relatively unscathed. I didn't take her plate #, but I should have...she was angry at me, wouldn't roll her window down past an inch, apologized begrudgingly for not seeing me (as opposed to "I'm sorry I hit you, are you okay?") and left. A few onlookers were duly disgusted with her as well. Deo gratias, I'm a bit stiff and sore, but not even a bruise to complain of. I was lucky. And in a hurry...so I ran into the store and made it to the airport only 5 minutes late...to discover the flight was 15 minutes early. No matter. It was a thing of beauty to see my boys smiling and flirting with each other the whole way home. Then he hid, I lured the girls into the dining room with an impropmtu after school yay-the-kitchen-is-done tea party, and as we started our after-school gabfest, he sauntered into the room and asked for a cup. Princess screamed and launched herself at him, Therese looked shell shocked and started weeping. It's been hardest on her to be without her Wii buddy these past four months. Princess/Athlete drama has dominated the household.

C. The Athletic Appendix began to give out. As noted in HMD#32, the symptoms were classic, the physician dad was in denial, and the kid suffered. We had many texts and calls throughout the course of the day and evening....prom or no prom? And we had picked up the freshly altered and gorgeous dress earlier that morning, too....

D. I slept for 9 glorious, uninterrupted hours last night. No listening for the baby, no getting up at 6:45 to feed and shoo girls out the door to school....and I'd had a combined total of 2 hours and 45 minutes the two preceeding nights. So it was needed sleep.

Which is why I can't sleep now! But I am going to try. So, gentle readers, thanks for bearing with me to this point, I will be back with more tales from the Brookside before you know it. I have a fresh "visitor" story, too....but all in good time.

Happy Mother's Day

To all you mammas out there!!!

Children and I are heading to Mass (where I will pray in thanksgiving for the 3 babies I have and for those who I didn't get to meet here, but hope to meet in Heaven, as well as for all of you and your beloved departed moms and grandmothers) then we will head to our friend's restaurant for brunch, then roadtripping off to an outlet mall with the proceeds from my last paycheck of the semester....it ain't much, but enough to constitute a little "mad money" :)

What are you ladies doing today? And gents, what are you doing for your ladies?

HMD#29 - Boys Don't Cry

But I'm gonna change all that...

HeloMom has done the unthinkable...

The Tall Boy turns 18 in a few weeks, and HeloMom and Princess have come up with the

BEST.
GIFT.
EVER.

for our particular Athlete.

(And no, it has nothing to do with offering him my daughter's hand in marriage, nothing to do with her much at all, really....)

We are so proud of ourselves!!!

There will be tears of joy. (There'd better be, or I'll crack him across his shins and make him cry anyway.)

Last time I saw him misty-eyed was at the bedside vigil during the appendix ordeal, when she awoke, kinda scared, and asked for him. One of my favorite moments of these past 6 months, and why we like him so much around here.

Stay tuned!

SCORE!

I love Big Lots...the me of 10 years ago wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like that (never set foot in a WalMart until after I got married, either), but I'm smarter and cheaper now, and besides, I needed random garden and cleaning supplies. Where better to find such things, along with discontinued toiletries and strange shelf-dated foodstuffs?




Anyway, I was tooling along and snapped up one of my all-time fave movies about one of my all-time fave Saints on DVD - one that I've had a bad VHS copy of for years, having taped it on the AMC channel....



A Man for All Seasons.....THREE BUCK$!!! The late, great Paul Scofield as St. Thomas More. Oscar for best pic of 1966. Awesome!




If you haven't seen it, make haste to thy local Big Lots!!! (Or queue it up in your Netflix account, you high techies out there!)

Helo Mom Dispatch #26 - Emesis Font

[Note: if you are not now hearing a certain Who song in your head, well, you're too young and/or not not an 80's music fan. More's the pity.]


Greetings from the hangar....Helo Mom, Princess, Therese, and Boy are back from the way-south of Florida, and yes, it was glorious. HM (that's short for moi) needed a break from small towns, small schools, and small minds.


Now that I am all tech-ed out with matching pink Blackberries for the Princess and me (which was our only connection to the outside world), doing the Facebook thing, taking and sending pics all over the place, I've been overloaded. It was a good and much-needed break.


But what of our young couple? The Athlete took off for Dollywood while we darted around from island to island, often forgetting or forsaking the phones in favor of beaches and books and Barenjager-laced iced tea...(mmmmm....okay so that was just me). Again I digress. What was I saying?

Oh yeah. So they didn't have their usual texting and evening chats as they are used to doing. My 26 y/o niece was along with us and sent the Tall One a text with a photo attached - all of us in the ocean, hard to see faces.


His response: Is this Nicole?*


Hers: Who the he[ck] is Nicole?


Him: Oh, wait, I just saw the picture...this is [Cousin] isn't it?


Hers: Yeah, and you're in trouble.

Oy.

Vey.

Drama ensued - apparently "Nicole" [name changed to protect the not-so-innocent] is a youth-court girl who has long harbored a bit of a tendre for our tall friend, and she has an out-of-area cell number. So when the Athlete saw the strange number, he presumed it was her. He immediately called to clarify with a hot-tubbing Princess, but angry Niece answered Princess' phone and proceeded to fuss at Athlete. He hung up.


Princess had no problem with the Nicole mistaken-identity issue (she knows the girl and the story behind it), but the hanging up on a relative part was bad. After a solid hour of reprimanding, railing about the immaturity of hanging up on anyone, let alone a favorite family member, and demanding that he apologize (Athlete countered that it unnecessary, because he felt unfairly attacked by someone he's only met briefly interfering in his relationship) the real issue emerged:

Princess: If you weren't so cute, and so chatty and texty and flirty with all the girls, and if you'd looked at the picture first, we wouldn't be arguing at all!

Athlete: What?!? Okay, I admit I talk to lots of girls and have lots of female friends, but I don't "like" any of them - you are the only girl for me, and I can prove it.

Princess: [derisive snort]

[HM aside: he is quite convivial with the ladies...]

Athlete: Here's something you don't know about me, something I've never told you. And only a few of my closest friends know it. If you see me talking away with some girl, you can be sure I don't like her like "that." When I really, really "like" a girl, I can't talk to her. It terrifies me. Remember that first dance of the school year when I came up and danced with you?

Princess: Yes...at the very end after you danced with half the other girls there, one after the other....

Athlete: Well, I'd been thinking about it all night, from the moment you came through the door. I danced with a bunch of my friends to ask them what they thought and what i should do. It took me about 20 minutes to gather up the courage to come and ask you. I had to walk around outside. I was so scared, I seriously thought I was going to throw up.

Princess: Wait....so you're telling me that you like talking to all kinds of girls, but you like me so much you shut up and I make you want to VOMIT?

Athlete [stammering]: Y-y-y-ess...well, not anymore...but...c'mon, you know what...hey, that's not --

Princess [giggling]: that's so cute...and so retarded....and just.....heeheeheeeeee!!! [Yet more giggling]

Athlete [chuckling]: You're evil, you know that? I just poured my heart out to you --

Princess: It's better than your guts! HAHAHAAAA!!!!

And another hour of back-to-normal chat ensued, followed by a contrite text from the Athlete to the angry cousin. She accepted, but with threats of bodily harm if he ever hurts her little cousin Princess.

I love the fact that the Princess made me sit with her and hold her hand through the whole argument. Way more fun to be a fly on the wall than one in the ointment.

HeloMom must do more laundry and go to sleep. It's been an exhausting and exhilarating week.

Two Hearts Beat As One...Happy Sweet Sixteen, Love

Happy Anniversary To My Beloved!!!

Sixteen Years of Sublime!

May 1992. Marine meets recovering sorority queen. Engaged in 7 weeks, married 10 months later. They said we'd never make it as they smiled and danced and drank their way through our wedding.

It has been (and still is) my pleasure to beat the odds those friends and family members laid on us and otherwise to irk said naysayers after all these years. Many say it is "sweet" that I'm still so "in love" with my husband, and he with me. I can't imagine life any other way. I don't just love my husband, I live my husband. We finish each others' sentences...if words are even necessary. (Usually a raised eyebrow and an answering smirk will suffice.) We email each other the same odd and obscure news stories because we know that the other one will appreciate the bizarreness of it as well as the hunt for the story. When I'm lonely and I go to pick up the phone to call, it rings. It's him.

We are 8500 miles apart at the moment, but we might as well be sitting side by side. But then I wouldn't be sitting at the computer telling you all this. I'd be snuggled up under the blankets, secured in one big arm, listening to his heart beating as I fell asleep like I do every night we're together. Just a few more months 'til summer, babe.

Say I'm a fool...

[They] say I'm not for you

But if I'm a fool for you

Oh, that's something...

Two Hearts Beat As One Lyrics

P.S. We are SO going to this concert this summer in some as-yet undisclosed (and hopefully European) location!

Maybe I shouldn't say it out loud....

...but it occurs to me that Fr. John Trigilio would be a fabulous choice Bishop of Rochester when the time comes. (Because despite my fondest wishes, I don't think Fr. Erik would really ever leave Utah - far too entertaining - and I'm afraid Tara would 'jack him and throw him the the trunk of her car for the long ride back....)

Not only is Fr. Trigilio geographically convenient, just over 2 hours to the south of us down there in Harrisburg, he also wrote the book (along w/ Fr. Brighenti) that so many hapless, catechesis-challenged lifelong DOR-ians need - in fact, it should be mandatory reading around here:

The mandate should apply to anyone who serves at the altar in any capacity. And there needs to be a test that they have to pass, as well as a dress code they must follow.

Yeah, Mass was "like that" again this weekend.

One for the Random files

UPDATE: two things - 1) a commenter who wishes to remain anonymous says that the urge to knock stuff over is because I am such a law-and-order rule-abider that it's normal to have urges to do something brazenly non-conformist once in awhile. Whew! 2) Okay...I love this pattern, but another more formal one I've been looking at with beady eyes is on clearance. Hmmmm.....the birthday's in 4 days, and, most conveniently, the anniversary is in 8 days...heh heh heh...

I just learned a few days ago that the Athlete's mom and I share a bizarre disorder...a seasonal dish/glassware fetish.

I use 5 patterns throughout the year...sometimes more. Springtime (yay! only a few days til I get to make the change!) is a refreshing, sunny yellow and blue floral on a white background. Memorial Day - Sept. 11 is a commemorative set - a primitive flag pattern that I got at Target because it benefitted a 9/11 charity. Sept. 12 - Black Friday is the southwestern Mikasa pattern we registered for when we got married, and Christmas is a Pfalzgraff Christmas tree/winter/polar bear setting, with 4 spare settings of a matching plain red, used as a "filler" when I have more than 12 to dine. I also have Valentine's Day dishes, as well as my 23 formal Lenox wedding china place settings, and a 4-setting Christmas china that was an early Christmas gift from the Beloved, along with some Spode Christmas Tree pieces I've collected along the way. I will spare you the details of all the coordinating glasses and formal stemware.

Fortunately, I have a big-@ss kitchen with ridiculous amounts of cabinet space and a butler's pantry with built-in china cabinets. I have terrible urges to get a Spode formal Thanksgiving service...as well as a new Mikasa blue and white Southern-y floral pattern that just came out. The Beloved said I could make that last one my birthday present to myself....but I'd have to give one of the others up. Princess agrees - she wants me to box up the spring set for her to take off to college and beyond. And I could do that...easily....

I'm so glad someone else out there understands this...Mom of Athlete gave a set to her oldest for that first college apartment, then went out the next day and bought herself a new service for 8 in a pattern she'd been coveting for a few years.

Now for the truly sick part - this only pertains to me. When I walk past the fine china and crystal section at a department store, I occasionally have a mad, never-would-act-on-it-in-a-million-years, "wonder what it would be like?"-ish urge to smash everything to bits...yet I get nervous and make sure kids and handbags are under tight control lest one of us accidentally knock into anything while we are in or near that part of the store. (I didn't tell her that part. Not sure it's normal. Hee!)

I am sure there's some sort of strange psychological meaning behind all this...

Anyway, now that I have spilled this pithy little secret and insight into my psyche, anybody got something like that going on, dishware or otherwise? Or is it time for me to seek help?

Happy Birthday to the Beloved!

45 years of fantastic...love you!

Happy Birthday Princess!!!

Back in 1994, after 36 ridiculous hours of induced labor, our eldest was reluctantly born. (She was quite comfy where she was, thank you.) And as I type this, the little weasel is passed out, snuggled beneath the covers in the Beloved's now-vacant spot, having wanted to spend the night and wake up next to me in the morning "so you're the first person I look at, just like when I was born!"

[sniff...]

This is true - she was a bit blue and sluggish at first, but when I asked through my morphine daze if she was okay a few minutes after she finally emerged and had been whisked away for assessment and Apgar scoring, she turned her head toward me from the incubator and finally opened her eyes and started making squeaky sounds.

[Again with the sniff...]

Now I am looking over at a beautiful young lady - a quincinera today - sound asleep in body at the moment, but just awakening to all the potential of her womanhood. So much promise, yet so fragile, too. I am more conscious than ever of the huge responsibility I bear to ensure that her mind, body and soul remain pure and intact as we navigate these treacherous worldly peaks, valleys, and waters of the next few years.

Thanks be to God for this beautiful gift He's given us, and please pray for her as well as for her parents, that we may be virtuous and courageous stewards of her soul for as long as she's ours to nurture.

Princess facts: the portrait above is Empress Elisabeth of Austria, (a.k.a., Elisabeth of Bavaria, Queen of Hungary, or, more simply, Princess Sissi) the icon of fashionable European royalty back in the 1800's...a suitably beautiful yet tragic life story (oh those Hapsburgs...), and a source of fascination for our own Princess. This portrait inspired the Christine Daae "Think of Me" costume in the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie:

We have a pact that when she marries, I will find or commission a set of those fabulous Swarovsky crystal hairpins to be made for her coiffure...

Ahh, to be a princess....

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

HeloMom Dispatch #21 - Hearts Afire

Happy Valentine's Day - or the morning after, anyway.

And once again, the romance continues...

After another derriere-numbing, all-day wrestling tournament [Aside: he only won matches when she was wearing his warm-up jacket for good luck...hmmmm...looks like we won't have wardrobe selection issues at Sectionals next week....] the young non-couple [snort] exchanged gifts last night. His: a dozen roses and a stuffed puppy -- we refer him as such due to his oversizedness and not-quite-grown-into-his-puppy-paws-edness. Her gift to him:

Yes....it's true. She got him one as a joke. In blue. They've sat countless hours in our living room mocking the tv commercials, and our favorite Athlete has repeatedly sworn he'd never ever wear one, not even if his life depended on it. Naturally, the Princess took this as a challenge. She squirted it with her aptly-named Princess perfume, which he loves. So after he was done laughing, he relented, slipped it on, and inhaled deeply. Just then, I hopped out from the dining room with my little Flip Mino rolling and captured the evidence on film. (Thanks again for the product rec, Digi!) ;-) In all fairness, apparently it was rather comfy and actually is long enough to make it all the way down to his ankles, which was shocking. We have since learned that he slept in it after he went home last night.

As a further testament to his admiration for the Princess, the poor kid spent Valentine's Day evening here watching the threatened chick flick of choice: Steel Magnolias. He was so wiped out from his tournament that he never got to see his man movie (Tombstone), and so whether from exhaustion or out of anti-estrogen self-defense, he slumped over and passed out on the couch with his little friend at his side and secure in his arms about 15 minutes into the first movie. We had to wake him up and send him home at midnight. He called his mom to let her know he was on the way, and called me as soon as he got home, unasked, to assure us that he'd arrived home safely. Good kid.

He is coming back over tonight to cash in his man movie raincheck and devour a few pizzas now that he doesn't have to worry about weighing in for a week. As one of my colleagues (a former farm girl) put it after seeing their Dance photos:

"As his future mother in law, you're either gonna have to start grocery shopping at Sav-A-Lot or learn how to slaughter and butcher your own cows...he's huh-yooooooge!"

Well, I have no such audacious hopes in the matrimonial department, but I do know that the Prom is in June, and the Princess has selected her dress, which arrived on Friday. That's a story for another day...I have a book on cow killin' to read. Just in case.

Helo Mom out.

Heaven Help Us

...no, not a political statement, but one of my all time favorite (and hence most underrated) movies from back in the day. I've had the vhs tape for about 20 years, and have checked periodically to see if it ever made it to dvd.

It did!

The movie is set at a Catholic boys' high school in mid '60s Brooklyn. As one might expect, it's full of juvenile [phallic] boy humor and casts a critical - but not necessarily offensive - eye on the Church at that time, (i.e., there are scenes that deal with rather harsh and unjust corporal punishment, but there's nothing blatantly anti-Catholic).* It would be a much different story if it were re-made today.

Every former Catholic school boy I know, from my Dad who went to Jesuit boarding school in the '50s to my best law school buddy who went to Crespi HS in LA followed by TAC in Santa Paula, to a certain 17 y/o Athlete (and his sporty of-age compatriots, who borrowed it along with Vision Quest), and of course my Beloved and untold numbers of his Marines, has laughed themselves sick watching it.

There are a number of familiar young faces in this movie - Kevin Dillon, Andrew McCarthy, Patrick Dempsey, John Heard, Donald Sutherland and one of my absolute favorite character actors, Wallace ("In-con-sthee-vable!") Shawn:





The best scenes are posted on YouTube, of course, but if you're interested in the movie, don't watch them yet! If you've got about $8 to spare you can pick it up on Amazon, but if you are easily offended, well....don't. Definitely not for the underage crowd, although I saw it in HS and thought it was hysterical at the time.

*Its R-rating is for language, sophomoric sexual humor, non-sexual nudity (butt shots at swimming pool in gym class) and the brief punishment scenes. It has a lesser, Catholic school version of "Animal House" feel to it, if that helps. Somehow I see Digi enjoying it immensely...