I'm alive!!!

Hello friends -

I have not forsaken you! I have been busy (as you facebook people can attest) and have had so little time to get through a day, let alone blog about anything that you all haven't all said better than I could. :) Having the Blackberry has made facebook - which I swore I would not use - the easiest way to communicate the daily triumphs and tragedies of life in my corner of the north-central middle of nowhere. But I am regrouping and reclaiming some personal time as the Boy gets ready for a few hours of nursery school time, and the Princess - Lord help us - is going to start DRIVING in a few days!!! (GAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!)

So, I'll be back. Sooner than you might think this time. Really!

Happy Feast of the Immaculate Conception!

Checking in from my mostly computerless existence...hope you are all doing well and are virus-free. All is going along nicely in our little corner of nowhere, HM is pleased with the current Princess situation, so there hasn't been much to post about.

I was rather stunned to find this nice little article about today's Feast Day on the mainstream AOL feed. How in the world did that make it past the editors?!? ;)

I am very likely NOT going to make it to Mass today, as I am drowning in snot and Dayquil here with the equally slimy Little Boy, so please pray for me - I'll be watching Mass on EWTN, as is my usual fall-back position. Frankly, I've been doing that a lot in recent weeks. Otherwise, I am eagerly awaiting the big snowstorm we're supposed to get...aside from the daily kid taxi service, I've got nowhere to go, and nothing else going on, and plenty of groceries and firewood. So bring it on!!!

HMD #39 - Dusting off the Rotors

Yes! HeloMom lives...


Well, even as the continuing scarcity of time to post persists, the amount of activity here at the hangar has picked up again.


Updates:

1. Athlete continues to carry a torch from afar, but has bungled matters beyond repair. More on that in a minute.


2. Westley, the Beautiful Stranger, has made his long-term intentions known. He leaves December 1st for boot camp. He acknowledges that he is 18, and the Princess is not yet 16, which makes matters difficult. She is otherwise engaged at the moment (I toldja, more on that in a minute!) But he vows that he will foray into his new career, excel, and return for her when she's ready. (Talk about Semper Fi!) She is "beautiful, smart, driven, and will make some very lucky man a fine wife." Hopefully his, apparently. This may sound far out there, but there's a look in the boy's eye....a stoic, solid and determined one....he's a neighbor of the Royal Grandparents....so there's no doubt that he's coming back. He's a lifer.


3. The Beautiful Bad Boy is, indeed, bad. He took a lot of heat from the "cool" kids for having a crush on the Princess, who is too much of a good girl for his taste. He still stares at her all the time, but won't speak to her lest his friends tease him, and so as stupid teenage boys do to throw others off the scent, he has behaved boorishly to her at a few school dances (she does not do the sex-with-clothes-on "grinding" that is prevalent nowadays) by sandwiching her with his football friends and "grinding" her between their respective pelvises. (In the real world, it would be a misdemeanor form of sexual battery, quite frankly, and the school has heard my thoughts on this specific incident as well as the general permissiveness regarding this form of "dance" that is unattractive anywhere...but unpardonable in a quasi-Catholic high school setting...) She is disgusted and says no matter how gorgeous, smart, athletic, and popular he is..."he's a pig, and I don't want him to ever [expletive] touch me again." The expletive part is pretty serious business coming from her.

And now.....

Enter The Beautiful Music[ian].

As some of you may have seen on my accursed Facebook page, there's a new boy in town. A boy whose family transfered to Boston last year, so he and the Princess did not meet until he persuaded his parents to allow him to come back here to the middle of nowhere so he might finish off high school with the friends he's known since preschool. His very nice mom agreed to leave the family manse in Boston, rented a small place here, and they commute back to see dad (an ER doc, so he doesn't get to travel here as much) at least once a month.

From about mid-September on, I kept hearing about this cute and nice boy who came back for his senior year. He was touted as smart, cute (again with the cute...), Catholic (whew! finally...), quite popular among his fellow seniors, and very musically talented - in addition to performing in various state competitions, he composed several percussion ensembles and won awards and one earned a professional performance in NYC when he was in 10th grade here, and another was performed in Boston last year. She mentioned her admiration to a mutual friend (under pain of death, not-to-be-repeated...) so of course by the next day (a Friday), he contacted her out of the blue and asked her if she was going to the big soccer game that evening.

"Of course!"

The kid has never been to a high school soccer game in her life.

Especially when said soccer game was on a Friday/away-football-game night.

But she managed to wheedle her way (via me and my trusty Volvo wagon) into going to the soccer game, where she sat with him for exactly 38 minutes before we had to speed off to a miserable rainy football game over an hour away. (We made it in 50 minutes. Just sayin'). He left for Boston the next day, so a marathon textathon ensued for the entire Columbus Day weekend.

By Tuesday morning, he was (figuratively) on bended knee, asking her to be his main squeeze AND to go with him to the winter formal...which isn't until sometime after Christmas. He's asked us all to come to Boston and stay in the family compound at some point during Christmas vacation. Youthful exuberance and pupy love? Not this kid. He's smart, grounded, and very serious...but with just the right amount of humility to be endearing. Seems he spotted our Princess within the first week of school and was weak-kneed, but never thought she'd be interested in the drummer kid who just showed back up from Boston. He confided about his enchantment immediately after first seeing her to exactly one person - the mutual friend - also under threat of bodily harm. When the friend blabbed to him that she was equally intrigued, he was thunderstruck. Then they talked for hours and hours, and he now says he was tempted to hop on a bus if he had to in order to get back here to see her in person and ask her out lest someone else suddenly swoop in and steal her (now he knows better - she's selective and not easily swayed).

They've been virtually inseperable ever since. He comes over and helps her with her trig homework. They take the baby for long walks along the river. When faced with a choice of a kegger-bonfire with his pals or trick-or-treating with his girlfriend's younger siblings, he came here - and stayed to watch the World Series. He turned off his cell phone when all the "where are you - why aren't you here - we're all gettin' wasted" texts got to be too annoying. He likes to bring mom (a real estate broker turned stay-at-home commuter mom) when he comes over, so the work-widow moms can have tea and grown up chat while the kids do homework together at the dining room table. What more could a HeloMom want in a new boyfriend for her Princess?

How about less than a two-year gap.

Now for the painful part....he's just submitted all of his paperwork for an early decision at NYU's music school, and his prospects are excellent. So whatever may develop over the next several months, there is a finite aspect to this story - he will leave after graduation, and he will very likely not return. HeloMom has discussed this with the Princess. She does not like to think about it. Not now.

HeloMom hopes that these two nice kids have a wonderful time together for as long as may be. They've got a lot in common, they're very sweet together, there's no drama...just lots of mutual respect and admiration, and plenty of romance brewing. HeloMom just wondering how everyone will deal with the inevitable end of their story.

Until next time...

HM out.

Fall-ing...

I don't know about you, but around here in the middle of nowhere, NY we had a cool, rainy, cruddy summer and the fall isn't much better. Yesterday we had a wind advisory, and just as we were about to hit our leaf peak....lost a lot of leaves. And a few branches, one of which (from a massive 100-foot pine or spruce in our yard) narrowly missed a neighbor's car. Whew!

Inside the domestic church, aside from learning that I need a $2000 masonry repair in order to renew and increase my homeowners' insurance coverage, I have just discovered a leak inside a wall that has destroyed a number of boxes of holiday and other miscellaneous decorations by heading into the dreaded "room under the stairs" in our basement. GGGAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Years of craft fair prowling, kid-made treasures, and a few bags of clothes I never managed to drop off at the Salvation Army...mold spore city. That should be a fun weekend cleaning project, as should tearing into the wall somewhere between our recently redecorated and wallpapered powder room, freshly painted kitchen, and (newly dank and moldy) unfinished basement ceiling, pipes, and stone walls to see where the leak is. First, though, I have to get through tomorrow night's football game an hour and a half away in what's projected to be yet another loss in a cold, windy, downpour.

So yeah - it's been busy around here as usual. Just not our usual fun-busy.

I think it's time to start baking to warm things up, cover up the encroaching basement moldy smell, and start working on my winter layer of personal fat insulation! ;)

HMD #38 - I'm ba-a-a-a-ack.....

Remember me? Yes, the HeloMom is still without her laptop (a hard business for a late-night, before-bed authoress..my library downstairs is a fishbowl and so darn cold at night!) but a new school year is upon us and there is much to discuss. So I'm sitting downstairs at the desktop because I love...and because I decided to go to cheater Mass at 5 and have some free time on my hands. :)

Anyhoo.....

You'll recall, dear friends, the Beautiful Liar-Beautiful Stranger dilemma. I'll get to that. But first....

Enter the Beautiful Bad Boy.

Our favorite Athlete has gone off to college, a mere 45 minutes away. He still pines. He still loves. When he can think of a good reason, he texts and/or calls. And there are some great reasons - he's made the school's Ultimate Frisbee club (very competitive, apparently), as well as auditioning for slots as the student radio station's sports announcer - got it - and television sports anchor - got the secondary spot. Not bad for a freshman in his first month of school. We are very proud of him, and the Princess is genuinely thrilled at all of these accomplishments. Her tall friend is hitting his stride, has girls throwing themselves at his feet....but his heart is still back here in the middle of nowhere, NY.

Westley is still quietly pitching woo - but the Princess is not catching on. When the Beloved came for a back-to-school visit, he asked for - and received - permission to court the Princess. The catch: the Princess has to say yes. She has skirted the issue, and with good reason. Westley also discussed his plans to enlist in the USMC with the Beloved (who, as some of you may recall, is retired USMC and spent three dreadful years as a recruiter). This has caused the Princess to be quite reluctant to pursue any sort of relationship with Westley, beyond very basic friendship. He is 18, he's darling, he's a good boy from a very conservative Christian family....but.....it's just not clicking. Nevertheless, Westley has stated that he is content to wait and see if she changes her mind. He appeared unexpectedly with flowers and a card because she had a bad back-to-school cold last week after cheering at a chilly football game during a nasty, steady downpour. He came to Friday's home game to sit with me and some other family members, and escorted her safely back to the car. The young man is smitten, and he seems very patient and determined. The Princess' exact words: "he'd be a lot cuter if he wasn't leaving town..."

And now, there's the third player in the saga...the Bad Boy. He is actually not a truly "bad" kid, just very snarky and cocky...and a seriously talented standout football player in his junior year. Another tall, lanky kid who does double duty as a running back and a linebacker. Honor student, has a fraternal twin (who's definitely the "good" twin"), is very popular...but his sarcastic, cutting sense of humor is a bit much for even some of his best friends to handle. Princess has known him since junior high, they were on the same Youth Court team until this year...he was quite put out when she was reassigned and promoted to a judge position last month (ha! hooray!) while he remains a prosecutor, despite having an extra year of experience on the team. He's never given her much thought or a second look. Until now. He looks at her all the time, but (for once) says nothing.

And she's been looking back. Her fellow cheerleaders have noticed - most recently, when she was practicing her new "flying" job this past week and nearly fell/was dropped when the football coach screamed at the Bad Boy by name to get his @$$ back over to the team and away from the girls. She was startled, he was mortified. The next day, the boys finished practice early, but the girls were still at it. She and her base group stayed late to ensure she had the dismounts under control. She was struggling, but then the other girls saw Bad Boy and his cronies watching from the parking lot, told her he was there, turned and faced her towards the parking lot....and suddenly she was making superstar leaps, twists, and graceful landings. Her coach gave her a raised-eyebrow smirk and said she was possibly the biggest cheeseball she'd ever seen. All were laughing.

So what's the hold-up with this kid?!?

As with your typical cocky ultra-popular high school kid who has a crush on a younger, less-popular, but cute-as-heck girl....he's not sure what to do. She's smart. She's pretty. She's a cheerleader. She's a judge as a 10th - not 12th - grader. She sits on all sorts of school and county-wide youth committees where selection is based on merit, not popularity. BUT..... He's friends with a few older brothers of the Princess' tormentors, and has heard all sorts of strange rumors (fabricated and generated by the nasty girls). However, he has also spent enough time in her general vicinity outside of school to question what's been said about her. Yet at the same time...is it worth risking your reputation to give this girl a chance? It's a very "Pretty in Pink" - like scenario. (Except for the blue collar vs. upper-middle class theme... they're on fairly equal footing there.)

After this past weekend's first victory (in which Bad Boy played a major role), the varsity football players and cheerleaders had a bonfire party (dry, for once...). Princess sat on a rock near the fire talking with a few of her teammates. Bad Boy stood directly across the fire pit from her, staring intently...but looked away quickly every time she caught his eye. And then he left without saying a word.

The Princess is petulant, and intends to get to the bottom of this strange behavior. As she put it, "Who the heck does he think he is? Mr. Darcy?"

One can only hope...

HeloMom is not yet equipped to deal equably with a Wickham.

Will report in with any new developments.

HM out.

Another week gone by...

...but fear not, we are still here!

Some technical difficulties around here with a new computer and an additional laptop trying to become part of the family wireless network. New desktop computer: replaces the one we've had since before moving to this middle of nowhere place in December of 2003. Additional laptop:

The Beloved is home!

For 13 days, but hey - a man's gotta have his technology. Which knocked mine off and out for the past 5 days. But we're all back in working order now. At least I think we are. Right before coming home, the Beloved wrenched his already bad back while doing something he won't explain overseas. (More from fear of mockery than for security purposes, I'm guessing). We are four days into our visit, the jetlag is about conquered, but the back pain...not so much. He's on the couch with a heating pad, tramadol, and a grimace on his face if he's not wrangling and/or wrassling with The Boy.

The Princess sailed through her "procedure" last Monday, during which we discovered that she has a lovely, healthy looking set of intestines. The biopsies of the three areas (small intestine, ileum, and colon) will be back next week, but for now, the diagnosis is back in question. So if it isn't Crohn's, colitis, ibs, or celiac issues....what is it?!? Good to know it's better than what we thought, but bad to be guessing one unnecessary appendectomy and a rather humilitating (from a 15 year old's point of view) colonoscopy later. Cheerleading has started so we have decided to do our best Scarlett O'Hara imitation and "think about it tomorrow."

Therese is now an orange belt and steeling her nerves for junior high. And at the school she's going to...that's no small feat. So far, she's learned that two girls (incoming 7th graders) are pregnant. Nice, eh? As she put it, in that straight-faced, matter-of-fact totally Aspie way of hers...."I guess someone forgot to tell them that sex before marriage is a sin." Then she cocked an eyebrow and smirked when we explained to her why we were cracking up. So I'm not entirely sure that was an innocent statement. She has potential, that one...for all good things, but with a teeny-tiny edge of snarkishness. That's to be expected when one grows up at the Casa de Brookside, I s'pose.

On this cool but sunny Sunday afternoon, I am watching the first of the leaves fall from one of our trees out front (I must confess that have no clue what kind of tree it is, but it has tiny little symmetrical leaves that make it look sort of fern-like) and I'm thinking about Fall starting, which, on one hand, is great because I love the weather, the football games, the colors, the smells, the apples and spices that will be cooking in my kitchen in another month or so...but since we didn't get our first truly warm, sunny, and summery-sweltery days until the beginning of August, I feel like we got RIPPED OFF this year!

Hope you've all had a good summer - and yes, Karen, I have more Tales from the Brookside for you. Just a matter of having a few moments to myself to commit them to computer!

Johannestag 2009

Yep, it's Johannestag - the feast of St. John the Baptist (and the Boy's second anniversary of his baptism...how can that be?!?) - so we had a mini-bonfire (Johannesfeuer) and cooked hotdogs and s'mores out on the patio on one of the first truly GORGEOUS summer evenings here in the middle of nowhere.

Thank the Lord...for sending John ahead of his cousin and for instituting the Sacrament that washes away original sin...thanks for sending us the Boy....

...and praise God, summer's finally here!

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.

May Daze

Ugh...what a week. For some reason, I stupidly believed that I could repaint my kitchen in 2-3 days.

Yeah....NO.

For starters, I now know that I have a total of 27 cabinets in my kitchen, and 13 drawers. So I had to empty all that, sorting and dumping stuff as I went. You don't want to know what my dining room looks like. The table I was given by my m-i-l when we moved here has four leaves, is 120" long, comfortably feeds 14 adults, and (tightly) manages 20. It is completely covered with pantry contents and my many sets of dishes and glassware. (The butler's pantry, with all the china and crystal, will have to wait...) All the chairs are occupied, too. And the radiator that runs the length of the room. And most of the floor.

At the same time as all this chaos has erupted in my dining room, I am attempting to persuade the 2 y/o that climbing over formerly impassable baby gates to inspect the carnage is BAD. He does not believe me. So far the dogs have broken in and eaten some crackers and, strangely, meat seasoning packets (venison seasoning, sloppy joe mix, and pepper rub - WTH?). Jack keeps slinking around and slithering through the glassware just to mess with my mind, or perhaps cause me to drop dead of a heart attack so he can feast on my fat carcass for a few weeks. No one would find me in there until I started to smell really bad. And even then....

Anyway.

Then there was the patching and sanding. The day I planned to do that, I wrenched something in my lower back while catching the baby gate scaler in mid-vault, got stiff and sore...and had 2 days of sciatica as my reward. In the midst of this, the Athlete texted to me that he was in the school office, having decided to smite some obnoxious kid who routinely badmouths him for dating a freshman during gym class. (Senioritis, anyone?). Had to provide lots of advice and counsel to ensure that privileges such as prom were not revoked, and then had to ensure that Princess did not smite Athlete for his display of fisticuffs, which, while well-intended, was not worth the trouble that ensued. (She thought he could have handled it more rationally, he was incensed that she did not appreciate his defense of her honor after months of snarkiness from that kid).

Then late that afternoon, I finally spackled. It rained for the next 36 hours, so it took forever to dry....and so I waited overnight, then I started sanding that next morning. A mayday call came in from the Princess from a school locker room. She was walking between classes with one of Athlete's wrestler friends, deep in conversation about a very serious alleged incident -- wherein said friend's former girlfriend was taken advantage of by another boy at a party -- when the offending boy crossed paths with them. Wrestler friend (smaller by a foot and about 150 lbs lighter than his target) took the alleged offender out at the legs and proceeded to pound the snot out of him. Princess' horrified screams alerted the faculty, and after several attempts, Wrestler friend was finally pulled off, bloodied knuckles and all, and dragged off to the principal's office. The alleged offender was well and truly pummelled, and had blood flowing from several spots. Princess, having never seen anything close to that kind of violence, was teary, shaking uncontrollably, and had to sit with a nun until I came to fetch her. The nurse's office, the vice-principal's office, and the principal's office were all full of bleeding boys and outraged parents.

So I got the kid home, got the walls primed, then the phone calls from curious kids, parents, and those who hoped to obtain free legal advice started pouring in. Wrestler friend actually showed up late that night to apologize to Princess for scaring her, and proceeded to pour his heart out on my couch for two hours, praying that he will not be expelled, but unashamed of having avenged the outrage perpetrated upon the alleged victim. (I'm just waiting to see how much of this makes the police blotter...and how much is covered up about this party, its attendees, and the alleged incident). I'll let you know how it turns out.

What's the term the Amish use for "spring madness" again? Well it has hit our town and the quasi-Catholic high school with a vengeance.

Oh, yes, and did I mention that I had a brief due as well? What would have taken me 3-4 hours sequestered in my office back in the day, took me about 14 hours over the course of three days, with so many interruptions, derailed trains of thought, and lost bits of legal brilliance and clever word usage....GAAAAHHHH!!!! Not my best work, but it hit the fax machine and went to its destination nonetheless.

Today I was supposed to be putting everything back in the cabinets, reattaching the finished, freshly painted doors, and admiring the pretty new paint job. But no. I still have chaos in the dining room, white primer, and completely untouched cabinet doors and drawers waiting to be done, and three gallons of lovely light blue and coordinating delft blue sitting patiently next to the dishwasher waiting to "transform my [friggin'] space."

Whatever.

Looks like another week of fast food and takeout.

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?

Moving Day - or - Why People Suck, Part 2-Gazillion

So last night I'm driving up our street, which is one of the main roads in town (actually the old "river road" that goes back to Colonial days), Princess and I are chatting away when suddenly, nay mercifully, I see a flash out of the corner of my eye and slam onthe brakes. Here's why:

This sweet little boy ran across the road and damn-near under my tires. There were more cars coming, no time to get out, so I opened the door and said "C'mon puppy!" He hesitated for less than a second and came flying into my lap, trembling. I checked - he had a collar that had obviously been his for awhile, but no tags, no phone number written on the fabric of the collar, nothing.

We were less than a block from home, where the traffic dies out a little, so we went home, gave him a snack and some water, and then took him for a walk up and down the street hoping someone would be looking for him.

No luck.

So I called the local animal hotline, nobody there 'til Tuesday. (Budget cuts, dontcha know.) Called the non-emergency police and fire number, and they said I'd have to turn him loose or hang on to him until the shelter opens. Called the local SPCA (they will scan strays for chips) but they are also out until Tuesday. So we had an overnight guest. This is the sweetest little poodle-y guy...timid but clearly eager to please, and also flat-out terrified and panicked between the near-death-by-car encounter and being 'jacked by unfamiliar humans.

When we gave up looking for a bereft owner, we came home and soothed him. He climbed into the Princess' lap and after he stopped quivering, he passed out. He ended up sleeping with Therese, first in a nest she made from an old blankie, but somewhere in the night he hopped up into her bed and snuggled under the covers with her. When she got up for school, his head was on her spare pillow. This is a doggie who was loved and who loved his people. So what happened? How could such a gentle and nice little guy be out and about with no id and no one looking for him?

Easy. It's the last weekend of the month. Moving weekend. In our old town, there are lots of big old, historical houses - some on our road going back centuries to the Colonial era, followed by the ubiquitous Victorians, Cape Cods, Prairie, Four-Squares, Craftsmen, horrid 50's-70's split-level ranches....you name it, you can see the styles grow "younger" as you head further out from the center of town. (Ours is a Roaring 20's wealthy banker-real estate mogul's house, so we're on the edge of the city/township line). Many of these older houses have subsequently been divided up into apartments, indeed some were originally built to be boarding houses. (There are still original cement and iron hitching posts and mounting blocks in the front yards!)

Anyway, the last weekend of the month is when people move out of and into these dismal half and quarter-house apartments. Cats and dogs are thrown out like so many broken lamps and particle board entertainment centers...and left to fend for themselves. I have no doubt that this poor little dog suffered that same fate - he was decently but not recently groomed, hungry, thirsty, and way out of his element. No pets allowed at the next place? Sorry Curly, you're on your own. But what if I'm wrong? I can't (and really shouldn't) just take in a dog from the street - what if his owner really didn't take his tags off the collar and turn him loose?

I called a friend at the police department to ask what I should do - he sent an Animal Control officerette to pick up "Curly" for a 72-hour hold on the off-chance that someone cares enough to look for him. They will call me before making any more "final" decisions about what to do with him.

Well, friends...what do you think I should do? The Golden Retard and Labradork didn't seem to mind him once the ritual butt-sniffing and eyeballing took place....although Jack was not amused in the least. I think he was actually marking his jugular and other vulnerabilities so he could take him out if needed. They are roughly the same size and weight.

It's a cat-eat-dog world, after all.

.

Darn right, says Jack....

Is it really almost May?

Greetings gentle readers -

It's been sparse on the blogging of late, between vacationing and having the post-vacation child-induced plague...this time it's strep. Only the baby, who has been the sickest the longest, had a negative culture. Go figure.

But I shall return, more on the house ghost(s) to come, as well as our regularly scheduled updates on the Princess and the Athlete, who - gulp - are currently attending a friend's school play somewhere near Syracuse, which is up the road quite a piece from here. Had anyone asked the Beloved and I if we'd allow this last fall when the romance (well, maybe it wasn't exactly a romance back then) began...the quick answer, "HELL no!" But the Tall Boy has weaseled his way into our hearts and has proven himself, time and again, to be extremely responsible, trustworthy and honest, often to his own detriment. (Him: "This girl in line at Target just randomly came up to me and asked me out...." Her: "WHAT GIRL?!?" Him: "...but of course I said no! I just think that's so weird..." Her: "WHAT GIRL?!?" Parental units: "D'oh!") But despite his boy-ness, he's a wonderful kid, and will be a fine young man.

We expect it to be a long, hot summer, fraught with romantic peril...I can't guess at how it will turn out when the countdown to college really begins. I'll keep you posted. First we have to get through being the only freshman at the senior prom....that should provide plenty of material.

This weekend is going to be a busy one - a day-long track meet with the Athlete tomorrow, followed by....Lord give me strength....a party on Sunday for the Boy's SECOND BIRTHDAY!!!

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay. Sniffle. Verklepmt. Shouldn't be going by so fast. Going to pour some shiraz, take my antibiotics, shut down all the electronics and read a dang BOOK.

Back soon -
xoxoxo,
Kit

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.

Tales from our Crypt #2 - Afterword

P.S. About a week after the stairs incident, we had enough snow and ice melt that I was confident enough to take the new puppy (the blonde Labradork) for a walk around the block. As I rounded the corner, I saw a Confederate flag on a very tall pole at the end of the street. I thought to myself Grrreeeeaaaat.....hardcore rednecks in 'hood.

As I got closer, I saw the Stars and Stripes flying high on another pole, which had been obscured by trees. I saw what looked to be a plaque or other sort of historical marker, so I made a beeline for it. There was an actual year-round display about....the Civil War prison camp. I looked at the map and the boundaries, and my house sits close to where the main gate was, and on top of where the Union officers' barracks and mess were. The infirmary [gulp] edged up into my back yard.

As you might imagine, this revelation on top of my "knowing" that my visitor was some sort of military man about floored me. I hobbled home as fast as I could, called the Beloved in CA, and started researching what little bits and pieces I could find online. I called my priest buddy up near Buffalo Road and asked him what to do until he could come down to bless the house. I booked out to the nearest Catholic store after we got off the phone. Each room and hallway has a crucifix now.

I didn't have another meeting with my friend until later that year. I'll get back to him later. There's more in the meantime.

Tales from our Crypt #2

Now it's Week 2 in the new house. [Keep in mind that at the time this happened, I still had no clue about the local history of my town]

The first day of the new school for the girls. So I am busy capitalizing on my solitude to start doing a ton of move-in laundry (sheets, towels, etc.) down in the basement/first floor. (The house sits on a little hillside, so the finished half and garage face out to the yard, while the cellar-ish parts have garden windows.)

As I bent over the dryer, dragging out a load of flannel sheets, I felt, rather than saw, someone enter the laundry room - it was a familiar feeling, as if the Beloved had walked in, not a scary feeling. But wait. Beloved was still in CA. I was alone in a new house. I gasped a little as it hit me, started and whipped my head over to look at the doorway. Empty, of course.

So I returned to the sheets, and at that moment I felt as though someone, once again, was standing right next to me, trying to help me. I got all hackle-y again, but continued working. All at once I knew that this was a man, and a military one at that, and suddenly I felt like I was being smiled at for being a stubborn female who tried to do everything herself, injuries and all. How or why I "knew" all this - well, I have no clue. I just did. I knew without a doubt that this "visitor" was a proud, proper, old fashioned military guy. But as sure as I can tell you what the Beloved does for a living and what his personality is like, I knew the same about whoever was visiting me.

And I thought it was crazy, and maybe I was finally losing it.

Then I started up the basement stairs to the kitchen with my wobbly knee and an overstuffed basket in my hands.

When I got near the top of the stairs, the door swung open on its hinges. Okay...old house. Must be a weight on the stairs thing, I told myself. Right. Never mind that the door hadn't done that on my first several trips up and down those stairs. I made it to the top as I had that thought, and then as I walked into the kitchen, the door swung back shut - and latched - behind me. I have fairly long hair. It had to be sticking straight out at this point...

"Thank you, sir." I said. And then I got the feeling whoever "Sir" was, he was happy, and he was bowing. Then he was gone.

This was a little over 5 years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday - the feelings and intuitions I had - everything.

Tales from our Crypt #1, cont'd.

All right. You now have more background info than I did when we first moved here.

The Beloved retired from his beloved Corps. I was burnt out from 5 years of non-stop litigation and not seeing my kids much. On paper, we were living a great life in San Diego, but we weren't enjoying life - too many obligations, long commutes, and no family time at all.

So we decided to simplify life, move back to his family's homeland, and seek quality of life as a family. We'd looked at houses here and there the summer before we moved, and I fell in love with a particular house. But it sold to someone else while we were mulling over the move. In October, it was back on the market. It was meant to be. We took out a home equity loan (courtesy of the real estate craze in CA) and bought it outright, and put our CA house on the market. It sold within 2 weeks, and the movers came the second week of December. We slept on air mattresses until school let out for break.

The girls and I transplanted here after Christmas to get started in school, while Beloved finished out his job with the City. We arrived from a 1,500 sf CA bungalow house to a 4,300 sf, 4 story big brick monstrosity of an "old money" rural NY banker's custom built 1920's house. There were boxes everywhere. (I bought up enough furniture and extra beds before we left to fill the extra bedrooms and maxed out our terminal military move weight allowance). It was so exciting...but...problem: shortly before Thanksgiving, I blew out my knee playing softball in the San Diego County Bar Association's league - shredded ACL & PCL - so I was limping around in a brace, having decided to put off reconstructive surgery until after I was safely in NY. If I didn't have the brace on, my knee would randomly buckle and collapse - all the ligaments were torn, so nothing was holding the joint together. So I wasn't supposed to do much unpacking, toting, lifting, or hauling. But of course I did.

Day 2 in new house. I was carrying a box of linens upstairs. Knee hyperextended and gave out. I started to fall backwards down the stairs, no time to drop the box and grab the railing. As I started to panic, I felt as though my back hit a net, and I bounced off it and fell forward onto the landing. I sat there for a few seconds, gathering myself, wondering if I'd had a dizzy spell because it seemed so strange that I was falling backwards and yet somehow managed to end up falling forward with the box onto the landing. I even noticed a crack in the ceiling as I fell, looking skyward as I was. I looked up from where I sat, and there it was - not my imagination, a big crack. I shook my head a few times, trying to figure it all out. I felt a reassuring hand squeeze my shoulder and I turned, expecting to see the Princess there, comforting me. But there was no one there. The girls were up on the third floor, squealing and bickering, tearing through boxes and establishing their new playroom. Yet I felt as though someone was still sitting on the stair right next to me, steadying and reassuring me.

That's when the hair on the back of my neck stood up for the first time.

I sat there for a long time pondering the implications of what had just happened, and I ended by thanking my guardian angel out loud for helping me, having decided that's who had saved me from what would have been a really bad fall. When I did that, the feeling of the kind "presence" at my side disappeared. I felt strangely sad and disappointed, thinking that my guardian angel would rather take off instead of staying awhile longer after I spoke aloud to him/her.

There were more visits to come, however.

I will continue tomorrow - stay tuned.... (Or should we say attuned?!?!?)

41 and fairly fabulous

Today's the big day....the girls don't have school so they made me breakfast in bed. I could hear the bickering and the shushing from below. The Boy drew me a card...on my bedroom wall with a rogue pencil he jacked from one of the girls' backpacks....

It's Monday morning, I'm surrounded by children and domestic livestock...missing the Beloved, but otherwise life is pretty darn good.

(The only suck factor so far is that it's really cold - the rest of the week will be nice and warm. Figures.)

I Confess: My House is Haunted!!!

I'm not kidding, and (with a few vocal dissenters excepted) I'm pretty sure I'm not crazy. Especially because 1) the Princess and I, and then the Princess, non-believer Athlete and I were together when the latest episode occurred, and we all heard, smelled, and felt the same thing; and 2) the studiously non-believing/denying Beloved freaked when I told him what happened, because he had several similar experiences shortly before he left, but chose to believe it was his imagination.

I know, I know, as Cathlolics we aren't supposed to believe in this stuff at all, or if we do, we must be cognizant that it's probably Satan and his minions tormenting us, but I've just seen and experienced too much to completely discount or discredit it. I am not afraid of anything/one here, just sorry and praying for these wayward souls to find their way home to where they belong. Pretty sure it's not here.

Sadly, none of the priests nearby have the time or the inclination to come bless the house much less lead us in an Enthronement of the Sacred Heart ceremony, so I'm going to have to bide my time and lure my Nigerian priest buddy here from far too close to where his boss lives. After my first encounter in 2004, he blessed each room of the house as we processed through all 4 floors and prayed the Rosary. It was quiet for awhile, until now - three episodes in the past 10 days or so.

I hesitate to divulge what's gone on, not because it's scary (it's really not that bad, just hackle-raising when it happens) but, well, I don't want to scandalize, alienate, or otherwise sport with the intelligence of non-believers.

Vote at the sidebar...I'll have to think about posting more about it though. In the meantime, please pray for what/whomever is hanging out here, and for our guardian angels to see to our family's spiritual protection.

Totally Self-Indulgent Monday

Today I did something I haven't in [...pondering...] many years. I sat helping the Beloved pack his gear for his new-job required trip back into the periphery of hell (aka, somewhere in the Middle East) and then...

...I sprawled out on my bed, spread eagled, stared at the ceiling...and cried. No bawling, no sobbing, nothing unseemly or overwrought. Just unstoppable, silent leakage.

Why?

Well, it just hit me that there's a wee Boy who, at nearly two, still doesn't talk much. I wondered what will be going on in his clearly busy little brain when he realizes Daddy is not here after tomorrow.

Every day when the girls get home from school and he hears the side-door open, he flings his toys down and flies over to see who's there. He's always happy to see the girls, but the sun cannot blaze any brighter in the sky than the goofy 8-fanged grin that he sports when Daddy's home. It is always accompanied by a belly-laugh and almost always a special man-cub growl...("It's Daddy! Party time....let's get ready to ru-u-u-u-m-m-m-mble!") "Mamm-mmma!" gets a special love-grin and a giggle that's all my own, and I love it. But I wonder how long it will be until I hear the Daddy laugh again, or if he will still do it the same way when the Beloved comes back home. And I don't know the answer to either question. Nor do I know how to navigate the recesses of the non-verbal toddler mind to answer the clearly present but unspoken questions that I will inevitably see etched on his beautiful little face when it's "just" Mommy or a siss-s-s-s-s-eee coming through that door.

A sad and pensive stretch ahead here in our corner of the middle of nowhere, I fear.

Please keep the Beloved, his mission abroad, and ours here at home in your prayers.

Snow Days Are Great, Right? /HMD #17

I know I'm a freak, but unlike most parents who were bitter about the long Christmas - oops - WINTER break, I loved having the kids home for two weeks. Similarly, I LOVE snow days because we get to hang out in our jammies, have a big breakfast, bake stuff, and be slobs all day. Everyone wins!

So this morning, when the Princess appeared in our doorway in a panic asking if school was canceled, I was more than a bit stunned when I said "yes" - and she burst into tears. "This is so stupid, I hate snow days!"

It's mid-term exam week, and she had two scheduled today. They will be pushed back to next week. ("Bonus!" I say...) But she is upset because she was prepared and now has to worry and wait another 5 days to take them. ("Little freak-nerd..." said I.)

But the kid has reason to be upset. She's worn out. She has a sore throat, bruises all over her back and legs from cheerleading practice (no room in the gym so they practice all of their stunts and somersaults on the cafeteria tile floor), and a regional athletic conference cheerleading competition this weekend. So the snow day meant one less day of practice before the competition. The competition is the Saturday after exams...a lot of pressure to have both big-ticket items on your plate the same week.

Hence the tears and the stress all day.

[Begin: Helo Mom Dispatch #17]

However, the giant Athlete came over for dinner and a movie ("The Express" - worth the rental or PPV) with the family this evening. I looked over at the two of them on the adjoining couch, mid-flick, and she was slumped against him, dead asleep. He'd covered her with a blanket and had her nestled in his big long arms (yes, all you Helo Dads reading this, his large puppy hands were visible at all times). He caught my eye, gave me a shy shrug ("What was I supposed to do?") and tentative little smile...and got an approving one from me in return. The Beloved caught on, gave the situation a sizing-up, and sunk back into his chair, unconcerned.

When the movie was over and it was time to leave, he very gently said her name and she awoke with a start, mortified and apologizing profusely ("Oh my gosh, I didn't drool on you, did I?!? Please tell me I wasn't snoring!!!"). He leaned over and whispered something to her, and she hugged him with all her might as he stood to leave.

Well of course I had to know, I'm a motherhovercraft. So two seconds after he left:

Me: So....?

She: It's so sweet, I can't say it or I'll cry.

Me: [misting up already, dammit!] Well, now you REALLY have to tell me!

She: I can't believe I fell asleep. I'm such an idiot, he came over to visit, not watch me sleep...but I was so tired, I couldn't help it. And when I was sitting there with him, that's the most relaxed and happy I've been all day. I felt, I don't know, safe. So I passed out about five minutes into the movie. Is that weird?

Me: No. It's actually very sweet. And so...are ya gonna tell me?

She: Duh, of course! This is the weirdest part. He said 'You're impossibly beautiful when you sleep. And you will always be safe and protected when you're in my arms, for as long as you want to be there.' He said the same thing I was thinking. 'Safe.' And he was right - other than Daddy holding me when I was little or you snuggling me when I'm sick [a ritual we've maintained for nearly 15 years] , I've never felt that way, Mamma. That's the best nap I think I've ever had. I feel so much better now, and he was so nice about it.

Me: He's a nice guy... [turning, dashing away liquid evidence of my mushiness]

She: [...smiling...a lot...] Gotta go review some more. 'Night Mamma.

Our girl is growing up. I thank God each night that this boy is the first one to stray across her path, and I pray that whatever the outcome, they remain in each others' lives. Truth really can be (in this case) better than fiction - this kid's a rare find.

Just before burrowing in for the night, the Beloved said, in his succinct way, "Oddly enough, I don't plan to kill him."

A good evening for all, and to all of you, Goodnight.

Helo Mom out.