St. Blaise, pray for us!

Mother's Log:

Star Date January 14, 2009: Little Therese arrives home complaining of a sore throat. Head cold for the next 4 days, moving into chest for another week thereafter.
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January 16, 2009: Baby wakes up. Snot factory opens for business. Side note, Mom also discovers that all four Baby canine teeth are attempting to erupt at once. Baby and Therese taken to pediatrician to ensure ears and throats are clear, as letter detailing strep outbreak at Therese's school arrives in early afternoon mail. Cultures are clear.
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January 20, 2009: Mother/Professor lets evening students go home after first hour of three hour class due to aching legs, fever, lightheadedness, and feelings of dread. No, not inaugurational malaise. 48 hours of flu, at least a gallon of tea, and only a few hours of vertical time ensue.
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January 23, 2009: Just as Mother begins to feel human again, still-slimy Baby sends out rare 3 am distress call. Fever = 103* in both ears using Thermoscan. At 10 am, pediatrician discovers bilateral ear infection. At 6 pm, Beloved announces that he will not be joining us for the evening basketball game against the crosstown rivals, as he will be in bed for the next 48 hours under the electric blanket, attempting to hang onto his mortal coil, but pondering eternity and the state of his soul...just in case.
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January 24, 2009: Princess awakens early for a grueling day of pre-competition practice, appears at the side of my bed holding her throat, weeping gently, and cursing us all for breathing on her. Exam week involves aforementioned snow day atrocity, skyrocketing stress level, and deteriorating physical health.
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January 29, 2009: Princess arrives home from cheer practice complaining of achiness and abdominal pain.
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January 30, 2009: Mother spends 3rd straight Friday at the doctor's office, this time with Princess. Ears are sore but clear, glands are swollen, throat looks suspicious. Strep, blood, and mononucleosis tests are indicated, as Princess also has tender area on left side, to close where spleen is located. Meltdown begins, as cheer competition is the next morning. As test results will not be back until Monday, and are only precautionary and more to "rule out" than to confirm, Doctor agrees that so long as she does not get worse, Princess may compete, given that she is not going to be thrown in the air, nor is she catching anyone who is so thrown.
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January 31, 2009: Princess awakens on day of competition sounding like 75 y/o chain smoker. Mucinex, Motrin, and DayQuil are stuffed into cheer bag at 7 am before bus leaves for cheer competition. Princess and crew WIN their divisional cheerleading title for the squad's first time in several years! Despite psychological benefits of win, Princess arrives home and sleeps for the next 15 hours. Miasma in lungs thickens, voice disappears. Mucinex is administered and affords relief, but she is down for the count.
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February 1, 2009: Despite dire warnings to stay away, Athlete comes over check on Princess at Superbowl halftime. Proceeds to become happy human pillow for second time while Princess slumbers on couch, and marvels aloud that he never thought he'd put girls before football, but a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do. Beloved's narrowed eyes relax for a brief second of shared mirth before returning to sniper-like focus darting between tv and adjoining couch. No untoward contact is observed or attempted.
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February 2, 2009: Call from Sheepish Athlete. Embittered (and apparently hoodwinked) physician father of Athlete demands to know if mono results are back for Princess. Track season starts in a few weeks, and the team needs its captain, who is in his senior year and will be disqualified if he has mono, which upsets physician father far more than it does Athlete son, who is philosophical and reveals that the true risk of exposure would have occurred the day before, when he - ahem - "congratulated" the victorious Princess ("right there in the gym in front of onlookers!") after the competition. (Beloved and I must have missed that....)
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Message immediately put in to Princess' doctor's office. Late in the day, results are back. All clear. Intel reports that embittered physician father of Athlete is relieved. Not as much as attorney professor full time Mother, whose Beloved will be deploying in a week for a stint somewhere in the Middle East as part of the new job.
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February 3, 2009: Mother has been coughing all night. The Princess Plague, perhaps? Can this really be happening? The Circle of Germs. The Wheel of Misfortune. And I'm teaching tonight...

No way I can make it to daily Mass, so St. Blaise, I'm crossing my throat as well as my fingers, and I'm counting on you from here at home...pray for us!

Born Again American

Someone sent this video to me and I thought I'd share...

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...

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.

Why not?

Who better to give your first official interview as President of the United States to than Al-Arabiya?

Let's spread the love like we're gonna spread the wealth!

Some notable quotes:

What I told [Sen. George Mitchell] is start by listening, because all too often the United States starts by dictating

Yeah, I was listening when my husband called to tell me to flip on the tv on 9-11-01. The sound of the second plane hitting the WTC is something I'll never forget, Mr. President.

My job to the Muslim world is to communicate that Americans are not your enemy

See above. Yeah. We weren't Japan's enemy either, but that didn't stop them from bombing the sh*t outta Pearl Harbor. Note to to the Chief Executive: THEY DON'T LIKE US NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU LIKE THEM!

and then there's this:

[He also noted that he has Muslim relatives]

Hey Barry - say hi to Uncle Achmed for me...

St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.

Helo Mom Dispatch #16 - When Worlds Collide...

Helo Mom is back from a break - not in the action, but in the ability to keep up with it.

I thought the end was upon us for a week or so - a waning of "more than a friend" interest on the Princess front - when suddenly there we were...heading off to a mid-week wrestling match, and she asked me the following:

"How do you know when you meet your 'Daddy' [aka, the uber-husbandly and wonderful Beloved]?"

"Why? Have you met a 'Daddy?'"

"NO! I mean ye--, well....never mind." [<-- rough translation: we are getting uncomfortably close to a point of fact or truth that I do not wish face or otherwise explore]

"Okay, to answer the first part of your question, I just knew. There was no rhyme or reason or perfect timing involved, I just felt utterly at peace and had no doubt in my mind that this was the person I knew would never, ever betray my trust, would care for me, love me, know all my faults but put up with me anyway...so when the day came and the ring appeared, I just looked into those blue eyes and I knew I was home. And you know what I've always said, and what you've been taught, is simple because it's true: marriage is a vocation. Just as Fr. [our dear Nigerian priest friend] explained his vocation, you know. You feel that pull, that calling, that soft voice in the back of your mind...and I truly believe that voice, for me, was the Holy Spirit telling me to stop searching and doubting. The soul that was going to help heal my soul was right there in front of me."

[Silence, a little dampness in the eyes, a heavy sigh]

"That's what I'm afraid of. I'm not ready for it. Not for years, and not until I'm sure that there's no one else out there. I feel like such a jerk."

What's a helo mom to say? A very fine line to tread, so I came up with this:

"Pray. Pray for your future husband...--"

"I already do, Mom, every single night." [Wow! We had that conversation a few years ago, and she still really does it!]

"--...whoever he may be, and let God sort it out. In the meantime, you are adored by a good and well-regarded boy who has no nefarious intentions towards you, wants nothing more than to court you unless or until you are ready to date him, lives for the opportunity simply to be with you on whatever terms you dictate, respects your innocence and modesty, and would never hurt or betray you. But no one says you HAVE TO be with him. If you don't want to see him anymore, say so. If you do, then stop all the fretting, relax, enjoy this time in your lives, and be glad that this is the type of young man you'll always remember as your first boyfriend. You couldn't ask for a better, kinder, or more patient one."

Silence. (Man, I must've overplayed my hand...)

So we arrive at the match, and to my utter disbelief, their little world tilted on its axis. For the first time ever - in public - she went right over and sat next to her Athlete between his individual events as she studied for her midterm exams. He was a bit stunned, but went ahead and draped an over-sized arm around her (whoa!) and without a word, she settled herself right into his side, binder in her lap, and read on...he chimed in here and there to quiz her or respond to her questions about his experiences with exams in this particular class, etc.

At one point, I looked over at the two of them, did a double take, and he looked over the top of her studious little head at me with the most adorable expression of shock, awe, joy...with a little bit of fear thrown in (a la "don't make any sudden moves or she'll bolt...") and grinned at me like he'd just won the lotto.

I threw him a discreet thumbs-up, turned away and continued my conversation with his delightful mother, with whom I've struck up a nice acquaintance over the past few weeks at these marathon matches. At the end of his last match - which he lost by a point - he was very frustrated with himself and not his usual happy-go-lucky self as he returned to the stands. She stood up and started to speak to him about how well he'd done, but he shook his head at her and (being both bitter and sweaty) sat behind her. She turned, grabbed and patted his hand...kissed it (flippin' WHOA!)...tucked it into her hand and returned to her books. After he picked his jaw up off the bleachers, he resumed his place at her side and never let go until the tournament ended. The Moms exchanged raised eyebrows, said not a word, and went back to our chat. As we went to fetch our cars, her son gave my daughter a hug, kissed the top of her head and she hopped up and smooched him right back somewhere in the vicinity of his chin or lips - in front of others - and then ran for the car. He was still rooted in place at the curb as we pulled away.

I said nothing. We seem to have turned a corner. I got the ritual pre-evening phone call/permission-seeking text, which read in pertinent part as follows:

Thanks so much for coming all the way up to [Match Site HS]. You got to see my worst loss on the best day of my life. :-)

I have already offered to adopt this kid if anything bad ever happens to his family. His only concern: "you'd have to get a second job to be able to afford to feed me..." And yes, I would.

So back to his Mom. She invited me on her "morning stroll" with a group of friends, which "stroll" turned out to be 2 hours of scaling half a mountain through the snow...and I managed not to humiliate myself. Much. Other than a blister from my insufficient snow boots, I survived the winter equivalent of a Bataan Death March and have been jumped into the Mom gang.

So the Moms have met. We have discussed. We have colluded. We have witnessed a hasty public liplock between our children. She tried unsuccessfully to kill me, and now likes me.

Yes. Just like that old Seinfeld episode, lines have been crossed. The worlds have collided.

I have no idea what will be next...but the long-awaited dance is in a little under 2 weeks. I shall report in accordingly.

Helo Mom out.

Happiness, Love, and Joy...

...to our dearest Clam, newly wedded to her darling Canuck!

Keep them in your thoughts and prayers...they've worked hard to get to their big day.

Papa Goes Youtube

Today, the Vatican launched its own Youtube channel. Way to go team!

Makes me smile.

Day One of America's Gethsemane

So when I finally flipped on the tv last night, this is the first thing I saw on FoxNews - I managed to find it online so I could share it with you, dear friends and readers...

"Desperate" times indeed...Dana Delaney, may God forgive you.

Then this morning, as I attempted to arise from my flu-induced stupor, the Beloved shows me this .

Save the killers, kill the babies.

Stop the ride, I wanna get off.

Imagine the Potential

Well, friends, it is upon us. WELCOME TO OBAMAGRAD

This video sums up the real significance of this day, whether or not the sheeple grazing in DC later on today agree.

CatholicVote.com

Tip: Rich @ Ten Reasons.


Posted using ShareThis

A breath of fresh air...

...did a day trip to NYC yesterday to do some high school dance shoe shopping and perhaps snatch up some same-day tickets to see a show. But once we hit the ground, the Princess and I decided against the show. We hit Canal Street, lunched in Little Italy, meandered up through Nolita, went to a small historic museum (Old Merchant's House on 4th St.) and gradually hoofed our way back up to Times Square, snacking, striking shoe and costume jewelry gold and chatting the whole way.

After the deep freeze hit here last week, it was actually in the 20's and a light snow started in the late afternoon...increasing in perfect step with our foot fatigue and desire to get back to Broadway and meet up with our group of friends (we charter a nice touring bus a few times a year to get the heck out of obscurity for awhile). It was so beautiful, though. The city was humming, there was just enough fresh snow for it to look clean and inviting, and then...it was back to the bus. And to a big house near a brook, slightly north of nowhere.

Helo Mom will be back after pondering the imponderables of the teenage psyche...and after a day of centering prayer and self-imposed zero media tomorrow.

When It's OK To Fail

FINAL UPDATE: My daughter's letter was NOT published (shocker). There will be a shortened lass schedule tomorrow because the student body is - yes - required to watch the inauguration.

Semester exams start next week. Just sayin'.

UPDATE #2: Got a less than apologetic reply from the teacher this morning, which I will paraphrase here: the assignment was apparently given in response to a contest in the local paper, and the nun-in-chief had the English teachers assign it to the students on Monday. It was NOT optional, and indeed, no alternative assignment was given. The teacher states that the contest gave writers the task of writing a letter "detailing" what The One's policies and goals should be, or drafting the first 250 words of his inaugural address, and he indicates that the words "congratulate" and "positive" were not in the contest rules. He advised students that submissions were, however, supposed to be "appropriate for publication."

I am looking in the newspaper's online archives for the contest details to confirm this, but in the meantime, one must ask: What exactly is "appropriate for publication" in a left-wing newspaper is supposed to mean? Was this left open to interpretation by high school English students? When they are told to "behave appropriately," is it not implied to the child that their behavior must be "good" or "positive" behavior? Could it be that the teacher is blaming the kid for interpreting the intent of the assignment rather than accepting that it was an ill-conceived assignment?

Here's a direct quote:

...when I am made aware of legitimate concerns, I always try to accommodate those requests.

Hmmmm....perhaps my concern is not regarded as "legitimate" depending on how you interpret that last bit. See the problem?

I'm not done with this.

UPDATE: Sent a written request for clarification of the assignment requirements to the teacher a few hours ago...no response yet...

My eldest, the quasi-Catholic high school student, has received the following mandatory Honors English assignment:

Write a letter to President-Elect Obama congratulating him on his inauguration. It must be positive, and not exceed 250 words.

[yep - it's a RED ZONE moment]

The letters must be emailed by the students to the local paper and to the teacher.

Yeah. I have a slew of MAJOR ISSUES with this assignment. I told her she did not have to do the assignment if she did not want to, and that I'd go to the mat for her with the teacher and the administration...including the habitless nuns...about the lack of 1st amendment rights involved when one is required to support One who she knows to be an insupportable politician. She did not want to go that route because the implicit threat involved getting a failing grade if you went "negative," and that was something she didn't want to deal with.

We conferred until late into the evening last night about how to be "positive" and yet make a stand against what's wrong about The One at the same time. We discussed the issues, she drafted, and I helped her pare it down to the required limit. (I suggested that she write a thank you letter to President Bush for his service and especially for keeping the country safe from enemies foreign and domestic during his tenure and hand it in along with the required letter for extra credit...but we agreed that might not go over well...)

I doubt the letter she wrote will be published (I'll post it later in that case), and I hope she won't be punished for having the audacity to hope in her letter that The One will stick to his vow to protect women's rights...including those of unborn women. ("FOCA" that!)

If she is penalized in any way, it's game on - and make no mistake, I will scorch some serious earth if I have to.

I try to be a reasonable person, I really do. I have been trained to look at issues from both sides, and I strive to do so in my professional life even when a counterargument is just patently nonsensical. As I have been taught, and as I now teach others, sometimes you have to set aside your own feelings and take a step back...because you must be able to understand the opposition in order to defeat it. But today, I just can't do it. I cannot comprehend the goose-stepping mentality the Obamaniacs have...and the fact that said mentality has infiltrated a Catholic High School where I'm paying (a lot) for viral immorality to be downloaded into my child's head, well, it sickens me.

Helo Holding Pattern: Dispatch #15

Not much too terribly new to report on the Helo Mom front, other than that the saga continues...

Our favorite Athlete was injured at this week's 16-team wrestling tournament and was not able to finish competing, but being the good Helo Mom, I gamely offered to shuttle the Cheerleader and one of her chums 45 minutes away to the hosting school, and proceeded to sit with them through the 10 hour ordeal (wherein the Athlete was forced to watch his teammates compete until the bitter end...each made it to the final rounds and placed in the top 3). I actually met and had a nice chat with his various family members and other team family members. This was all just fine...until the blizzard hit about an hour before we headed home on coated, windy county roads in the late-evening darkness. Thanks be to the AWD.

The boy showed off his brand new varsity jacket - 3 sports, several awards, etc. - one of his Christmas gifts. I was horrified to learn that these things now cost about $240. (I think mine was about $40 back in the day.) I had to explain the significance of the jacket to the Cheerleader on the way home, and told her the old tradition of the boys giving the jackets to their girlfriends to wear. Because she's the eldest, she was unaware of the practice and didn't think any of her friends wore their boyfriends' jackets, and besides, as she put it...in that brutally blunt and honest way she inherited from, well...someone...:

[Snort!]

Like I could wear it anyways, Mom. Have you LOOKED at him? He's a friggin' GIANT! It'd look like I was wearing his Varsity bathrobe!

The girl does have a point there...

Later on, I got his usual "permission to call" request by text,* along with this:

I thought about asking her to wear my varsity jacket, but I wasn't sure how she'd feel about it. That might be too "official" for her. What's your opinion, Mrs. [Kit]?

What's a Helo Mom to say? ("Sorry, Mr. Empire State Building, but you're too darned tall....") So I suggested that he talk to her about it in general terms, see how she responds, and take it from there....poor kid. He really is a friggin' giant. And he has an equally giant heart. For his sake, I wish it weren't quite so prominently displayed on his sleeve, but that's another dispatch for another day. Time to go dig out the car and get some diapers.

Helo Mom out.

* How considerate is this kid - he asks my permission first, each and every time he calls, to ensure that her homework is done, she's not showering, sleeping, dining, or otherwise indisposed, and that the baby's not asleep or he is not inconveniencing the family in any way. I'm thinking of telling his parents to leave him to me in their will....

Prayers for Phillip Johnson

For those of you who may have missed this young man's story, which I've been following thanks to a tip from Cavey, it's worth taking a few minutes to read about what's going on in his life and juxtapose it against what going on in yours.

Phillip, a 25 year-old Naval Officer, learned in October learned that he has an inoperable brain tumor, roughly the size of a lime. Scroll to the oldest of his posts for more detail. His reflections on his vocation, his illness, and his journey toward embracing God's will in his life will bring a tear to your eye.

Please remember this brave young man - and, God willing, future priest - in your prayers

Bl Andre Bessette

Along with the traditional Feast of the Epiphany today, it's the feast day of one of my favorite beati, Bl. Andre Bessette, the humble porter who saved the nickels he earned giving haircuts to schoolboys to build a wooden shack to honor his chosen patron, St. Joseph. That wooden shack is now St. Joseph's Oratory, which sits atop Mont-Royal in Montreal, Canada.


Bl. Andre was orphaned as a young boy - small, weakened by chronic illness, and uneducated, he had little in the way of worldly skills to recommend him. He was initially accepted by the Congregation of the Holy Cross, but once they determined he was too frail to do any substantial work, they attempted to expel him from the order. Fortunately, the local bishop intervened and Bl. Andre remained with the order, where he was assigned porter duty for their boys' school. As he put it, "They showed me the door and I remained there for 40 years."


Among his duties was lighting and extinguishing candles and lamps at the school and chapel. He began collecting the oil from the lamps burned at Mass and in the sanctuary in honor of St. Joseph, which he brought with him when he was called to visit and pray with the sick. He applied his "St. Joseph's Oil" to the afflicted and effected miraculous cures. It is still sold at the Oratory. His reputation for bringing comfort and peace of mind to the ill was widely reknowned, and much of it stemmed simply from his ability to listen, observe, and to discern the state of souls. As his fame grew and he visited people who'd called looking for a rub of oil and a quick miracle, Brother Andre would often tell them to go to Mass and to Confession first, then call him.


I've long been a fan of Bl. Andre's because, like Stes. Bernadette and Therese, he exemplifies the virtue of true humility, and his story demonstrates what incredible, powerful, transformative love God can show us using the lives of these simple, obscure people to do great things in the world.


From a simple wooden shack of a chapel built with loose change saved by Bl. Andre for years and years....we now have this:

A poor, illiterate orphan's devotion sees its fruition with two million visitors each year.

Beautiful story, and a wonderful place to visit if you ever have the chance.

Minnesota, WHAT have you done?

Al Franken? Seriously?

Senator Stuart Smalley

I'm corrupt enough, I'm dumb enough, and doggone it, people hate me.

I am absolutely sick to my stomach. As far as I'm concerned, Jesse Ventura was mere child's play compared to this dangerous, politically inept, morally vacant, tax-evading, poor excuse for a man.

Helo Mom Dispatch #14: Stuck In A Moment and You Can't Get Out Of It

Well, for all the moping and sighing going on here, we traveled 75 minutes each way to watch the Athlete in a wrestling tournament today. To make a 5 hour long story short, we managed to see him in one match, and that against a state-ranked kid who routinely pounds the snot out of him.

So he looked across the mat at us with a big grin on his face and mouthed "I'm dead!"

And he was. After an initial struggle, the other kid had him on his back and things looked grim. But he somehow managed to flip to his belly, held his head up, locked his eyes on my daughter for a few seconds, rolled the other kid onto his back and pinned him! Stuck the state-ranked kid!

He hopped to his feet, stunned, then jumped up and down....his (fairly short and rotund) coach ran onto the mat, caught him mid-air, bear hugged him and carried him off the mat to his thrilled teammates, who all hugged him, too. Then he ran over to the bleachers, hugged his family....and then he looked at us with a big smile and a little question in his eye.

The Princess jumped to her feet and hugged him hard.

In front of onlookers.

First time ever.

The kid's already a giant, but I think he stood a few inches taller after that as he walked back to the team.

So just a few minutes before I started this post, I got a text:

Thx so much for bringing my good luck charm to the tourney. U have no idea what she means to me, and having her there made it the best match I'll ever have.

Enough to make a helo mom, well, a little verklempt.

Must go to bed now and ponder all that has transpired.

Update: "It's What Happens In That Six Minutes"

A Happy Helo New Year: Dispatch #13

Well, maybe.

The tall, lovestruck lad appeared at our door last night fresh from his vacation, bearing flowers, and invited the short focus of his attentions and affections to the upcoming dance.

She stammered, blushed, and said yes.

Then, as the evening wore on and the Wii batteries wore down, they chatted and she came up with a number of reasons why it might not be a good idea for them to go to the dance together after all - they have no friends in common (she fears being surrounded and likely ignored or looked-at-askance by other seniors and their dates); worse than that is the prospect of going out to dinner (she fears spillage on her dress and/or choking to death in front of others); and worst of all, he likes the...how shall I put it..."popular" dance method employed by the would-be gangsta-hip-hopsta but in truth dorky white upper-middle-class teenagers of the world (way too much bumping and grinding going on there), while she is a far more reserved, ballroom-trained observer of proper dance space and admirer of synchronous movement.

He vowed to introduce her to his immediate circle of friends over the next few weeks so she's more comfortable, reluctantly agreed to forego dinner if it would appease her, and has sworn that there will be none of the coitally-inspired maneuvering that is common - and accepted without question - at these quasi-Catholic high school dances. (Never appropriate, especially in formalwear).

She's still frowning and moping about the whole business today.

We shall see what transpires.

Signs and portents are not encouraging at the moment.

Happy New Year!

Hope you all have a peaceful and blessed 2009!

A Quick Break from Helo Hiatus...

Yes, Helo Mom is alive and well. The saga has continued from a distance over the past week. The Athlete has been out of the area - but not far from his phone - since Christmas Eve. We are up to 2-4 hours of evening conversation per night between the two young people...and to sum it all up, let's just say he's very anxious to return home to his little non-girlfriend Cheerleader. (I don't know why the pretense re: nomenclature persists, but it does - I'm scared to ask the girl about it lest I jinx something or get glared-at).

Anyway. We went to the regional "Cinders" Mass as usual, due to the Beloved's Sunday 7-3 stint. The Athlete called shortly after we returned home, chipper and chatty when I answered, and asked me how Mass went (don't ask me why, I just cracked up at the question). I reassured him that it was just fine, and we actually had a rarely-bestowed VERY GOOD homily about the Holy Family as well as the vocations of married life and parenting from conception to death. Thinking that I was boring him, I handed the phone over to the Cheerleader, and apparently the Church conversation continued. Somewhere around the 45-minute mark, the Cheerleader shoved the phone back into my hand and said "someone" had questions and wanted to talk to me.

What ensued was a 30 minute Q&A session regarding the Athlete's reservations about Catholicism and his potential for final conversion - as has been revealed in previous posts and comments, the kid's got a lapsed Catholic Dad, a strident Methodist Mom, and most damningly of all, perhaps, a DOR "Catholic" school education. No wonder he's confused!

He started out by declaring himself as a "waiting until marriage" (good to know!), politically/morally conservative, ardently pro-life and faith-centered kinda guy. (I had gleaned as much by observation over the past few years, but it was good of him to confirm these things). The main points of Capital Letter Contention: Purgatory (got the good lifetime Protestant Bible-camp goer's "I've read the Bible from cover to cover several times and it's not in there" spiel), Confession (as a Sacrament as opposed to a privately-conducted conversation with Christ at one's own convenience), Gay "Marriage" (between non-Catholics, anyway), Abortion (he has 3rd party concerns about the issues facing rape victims and life-threatening conditions for mothers), and barrier-method Birth Control for married people who wish to use it.

Whew! (I'm gearing up for Transubstatiation and the Immaculate Conception of the Theotokos next...)

So, I did my level best at teen-oriented impromptu apologetics. (The Beloved was nearby and high-fived me for a few clever, well-placed sports analogies.) I had much more to say, but kept it brief. I think I clarified a lot for him and made some forward progress - he thanked me profusely and said he understood many things much better now, and had a lot more to think about. As do I.

Helo Mom is taken aback by the sudden, out-of-the blueness of the questions, flattered to be the one he's chosen to ask, and feeling a great deal of responsibility for providing fruit-producing answers to these questions. I wish we had a solid young priest - locally - to whom I could entrust this nice boy and his questions for far better answers and lived-by-example formation than I can possibly provide him. Regardless of this kid's present or future association with our family, I sense that he's seeking out information and answers that will shape the rest of his life and how he lives it.

Helo Mom is feeling the gravity of this assignment. How to guide without overwhelming with too much information? Would a 17-1/2 year old follow through with book recommendations? Probably not. So...what's a Helo Mom to do?

(Calling on wouldn't-it-be-ideal-future-Bp. Richtsteig of Rochester...)

;-)

In the meantime, all prayers and positive thoughts for this good young man, his soul, and the wisdom of his chosen answer-bearer would be appreciated.

Joy to the Wii (v. 2 & 3)

2. Joy to the Wii
The Baby's thrilled
I hope he won't be killed!

He loves to play with ba-ad things
Electric sho-ocks really sting

I'll need another gate,
To keep him from the bait
He'll be cra-a-zed, cra-a-zed

with rage and hate.

.

3. Wii rules our world

Thanks to our kin*

He got it all plugged in

.

There's Madden for 2009

That flat-screen's resolution's fine

.

I love that DDR!

I've won each game so far

I wonder, I wo-on-der

Where my kids are?

* Snaps to the Midshipman, Beloved's Naval Academy cousin who popped by for dessert, for getting us wired for Wii and the new wireless home theatre system in less than 15 minutes!

Joy to the Wii!

1. Joy to the Wii!

The box just came

We'll ne-ver be the same!

.

Beloved can't inst-a-all it

He's gonna blow a ci-ir-cuit

.

Because he's got no skills...

...I hope that Geek Squad bills

I ho-OPE, I ho-o-ope

that Geek. Squad. Bills.

.

[Additional verses to follow after dawn tomorrow...]

.

But now for something far more serious and heartfelt:

Have a very Blessed and Merry Christmas, everyone!

Especially For The Much-Missed Ma Beck...

Today's feast day honors St. John Cantius, Bishop and namesake of a rockin' parish in my native Chicago, of which our dear Ma is lucky enough to be a member.

For all parishes like SJC that treat and present the Faith with beauty, honor and reverence...thank you, God bless you, Merry Christmas...wish you were here.

My favorite quote from St. John of Kanty (and one I need to remember and put into practice myself):

Fight all error, but do it with good humor, patience, kindness, and love. Harshness will damage your own soul and spoil the best cause.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

We went to Mass at a different-than-usual parish yesterday due to cheerleading camp conflicts today. From the local cluster bulletin:

Winter Solstice Celebration: Come and celebrate this very special night with hot chocolate & cookies at a beautiful ceremony at the [Parish] labyrinth TODAY, Sunday, December 21st at 7:00 p.m.

Yeah....

NO!

Helo Mom Dispatch #12 - Christmas at the Hangar

Oh dear....here we go....

Snow day yesterday - no school - and an extra day of Christmas vacation. Woo hoo! The Athlete came over in the early afternoon to watch as we baked cookies and to exchange gifts with the Cheerleader. She bought him a tie with his favorite NFL team's logo (for school uniform use) and made him an ornament to commemorate the excellent state semi-final football season of 2008. He gave her perfumed lotion to go along with her daily scent...wait for it...."Princess." Both were pleased, and I believe there may even have been a quick mistletoe incident while I was in the kitchen between cookie batches, and they were running interference for me with the baby.

They sat on the couch talking and laughing for several hours while I baked, covering topics ranging from sports to doll collecting, and she schooled him in the finer techniques of driving a cat crazy with a laser pointer and a pinch or two of catnip. All in all, they had a great afternoon together.

Then....disaster struck. He left later on in the evening and then called her immediately after he got home to let her know he'd just gotten his first college acceptance letter. She was thrilled and congratulated him...and then I watched the realization hit her.

Now it's getting too "real" - the age issue is back to the forefront.

She sat down slowly, became quiet and rather pale, and they talked for an hour, during which time she assured him that he was free to date other girls his own age whether now or when he leaves for college, she would not expect him to wait or remain tied to our little north of nowhere town simply because of her. He would hear none of it, assuring her that was a bridge they could cross later, and they should just enjoy the present together and sort the rest when the time comes.

Seems that now she's finally starting to feel attached, the thought of detaching is too much to bear. And she has a valid point.

They will both have plenty of time to ponder these issues - he is leaving to spend a week with the family in warmer climes, while we have a houseful of nieces and nephews coming in to ski by day and hit the local wineries by night. I will be purchasing extra chocolates and pocket kleenex packs for the Royal stocking today. I think we're gonna need ample supplies of both.

So...will there be a Happy New Year for our young crush-birds? Or will the Helo Mom be hanging it up for awhile?

Stay tuned, my friends....

Belated tribute - St. Lucy

Santa Lucia, patroness of the blind, pray for me!

Holy smokes. After what we're calling the "Cosmetic 9-1-1 incident" and ER visit a week or so ago, I thought I'd hit my quota for random ocular trauma for, say, at least a decade.

Not so!

Today we went in for our 6 month dental visits. As I received praise for yet another cavity-free year during my cleaning, disaster struck. A huge chunk of nasty abrasive dental polish flew off the spinny-polisher-thingy and shot straight up and under my upper eyelid in the (now formerly) good eye.

It was horrible...my second scratched cornea - minty fresh exfoliation in this instance - in as many weeks. Fortunately, I still had plenty of antibiotic eyedrops and rinse left, so I decided to self-treat and forego another ER visit. Why? Vanity, thy name is Kit.

As it turns out, the local ER Chief doc is a fellow quasi-Catholic high school parent who treated me at the ER after the Boy-meets-Mamma's-mascara-wand episode, and with whom I've struck up a nice little chatting-at-basketball-games acquaintance. He has kindly asked after my visual health at each of the games since, and he, his lovely wife, and I have discussed their various boy teenager issues and my Cheerleader teenager issues. Somehow I am not sure a second eye-related trauma in as many weeks would seem entirely coincidental...although those who know me well would laugh and say it's par for the course! I don't want to become known to them as the creepy "Eye Lady" who frequents the ER between basketball games with yet another bizarre eye injury. To be safe, I did chat with my lady doc buddy (after she got done laughing at me) and she assured me I'd survive, so long as the pain did not increase, etc.

What am I supposed to be learning from this, dear Lord?!?

St. Lucy was an early Christian martyr historically believed to have been tortured, burned, and blinded before being murdered courtesy of Diocletian. There is a lovely Scandanavian tradition wherein a young girl is selected to dress as St. Lucia, wearing a headdress of pine and candles to symbolize the fire that did not immediately kill her, and to bring light to conquer darkness. She also brings candy, saffron or anise-flavored coffee-cakes and presents to the little kids. Her feast day was December 13th, the day we had three major school events to attend from 9 am to after 11 pm, or I'd've mentioned her sooner - I love the traditions associated with her feast day.



Maybe this is her gentle way of reminding me...

Helo Mom Dispatch #11 - Silver & Gold

In recent news:

The Athlete rejoined the school band a few weeks ago in order to have a mutual class with the Princess. (Say it: "Awwwwwww!!!!"). The band director is thrilled.

So at their Christmas concert last night, I sat halfway back in the auditorium watching the two of them perform, but more importantly, I observed them in some of the unscripted moments. As they entered and exited the stage, he followed a few steps behind her, towering over her as he does by more than a foot, and gazing down at her as though she's the most exquisite creature he's ever beheld. The kid's heart is on his sleeve and in his eyes. As they stepped on and off the dais and the stairs, he with his rumpled shirt and hands in his pockets, she in her smart little black and white outfit and strappy heels, he instinctively reached an arm out behind her, just in case, ready to catch her if she stumbled. All unconsciously done on his part, and therein was its beauty. She had no clue about any of it - she could not see the expression on his face and he never touched her back, but I can tell you, it was heartachingly adorable for the Helo Mom to see, even from a fair distance. The young man is a natural - he's a gentleman. And he is beyond smitten.

She is slowly warming up to the idea of having him around in a more "official" capacity. By the time we got home, it was far too late for their typical hour-plus evening chat. This morning she came down to breakfast and said "You know, it's just not right when I don't get to talk to him before bedtime. I didn't sleep well at all." Hmmmm....the polar ice cap may be melting....

Today's dirt:

I am a traitor. The Athlete sent me an urgent text [translated here by me from "txt-eze" to normal English for your convenience]:

Hey, it's me, [Athlete]. I know I probably shouldn't ask you this, but can you please, please help me? Just between you & me, I don't know what to get the green-eyed one for Christmas. I'm desperate. I want to get her something she will really like but I have no clue what to do. Please?!?

Well, what's a soft-hearted Helo Mom to do? As it happened, I was at the mall shopping whilst the Cheerleader & squad rang bells for the Salvation Army. I texted back my 30 pieces of silver:

Of course I will help you. What are you thinking of so far?

His first idea was to get her football memorabilia for her favorite team, my Chicago Bears. Very y-chromosome of him. (Can you blame me for breaking the chick code and agreeing to help him?) So I gently texted back:

Well....that may be too "sporty" for someone so GIRLY. What else can you think of that interests her, but that you like? I'm at the mall for another hour and can scope stuff out for you while she's doing the bell thing.

[Long pause] Then he replied:

You ROCK! I just got home from practice. I'll wash up and meet you there in 20 minutes.

So he appeared in record time, visited with all the Cheerleaders (who catcalled at him and teased him terribly about being at the mall when his little friend happened to be working her bell-ringing shift), looked assessingly and then menacingly at a few creepy old guys who donated money and tried to engage the Cheerleaders in more than a few seconds of idle conversation. He then "accidentally" ran into me at a department store, where we struck gold and found an excellent item the Princess will love, and which also coincides with one of the Beloved's three motivational agenda items vis a vis lovestruck 17 year old boys - it smells good. He had a second item in mind (from their movie date) and I gave it the thumbs-up, so he loped off toward the bookstore after they said their goodbyes.

As the Princess and I left the mall, I received the following:

Thanks Mrs. [Kit]!!! U R AMAZIN'!!!

(Well, what can I say....the lad's got a point....)

Backatcha, kiddo. See you this weekend.

We've invited him over to participate in our annual manic Christmas cookie making/decorating extravaganza this weekend, during which time we will somehow manage to leave them to their own devices by the Christmas tree for a few minutes so they can exchange gifts in a less conspicuous place than the school hallway. The Beloved has grudgingly agreed to have him over for a few hours, but I think he may require sedation. Gonna have to spike the 'nog.

Helo Mom is feeling a little more cheery as the week approaches its end.

There Is No Rose Of Such Virtue

In the spirit of embracing the Rose and rejoicing this week...

One of my favorite carols comes from the time of the last "Good" King Henry of England, Henry VII:

There Is No Rose Of Such Virtue

English Traditional, c. 1420

1. There is no rose of such virtue,

As is the rose that bare Jesu;

Alleluia.

2. For in this rose contained was

Heaven and earth in little space;

Res miranda.

3. By that rose we may well see,

That he is God in persons three,

Pari forma.

4. The angels sungen the shepherds to:

Gloria in excelsis deo:

Gaudeamus.

5. Leave we all this worldly mirth,

And follow we this joyful birth;

Transeamus.

6. Alleluia, res miranda,

Pares forma, gaudeamus,

Transeamus.

Are we there yet?

I will post a new Helo Mom update in a day or two (I know, I know...but Larry, Kasia & I will enjoy it!). All is relatively well.

Just got back from watching my 11 y/o perform in the public school's "Winter Concert" that had not one Christmas carol. Songs about snow, "the longest night," hot chocolate, and the only C-word-containing song: Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer. I wanted to bang my head against the chair ahead of me and get out of there as fast as possible.

We're at 10 days until the Feast of the Incarnation. This is the first year since I married my Beloved in 1993 that we are going Santa-free. The Boy is too young, and sadly, middle school has put the lingering hopes to rest for our Little Therese. (I keep thinking of St. Therese describing her "last" childhood Christmas Eve in Story of a Soul, and its depiction in the recent Therese movie). It's kinda like that.

In many ways, it's a relief. Less ridiculous hiding stuff int he house, last minute late-night wrapping, scrambling, sneaking about, and silly overspending on toys that don't hold interest past a month. We have a respite for another year or so, then we're back at it with the Boy - and the girls are thrilled at the prospect of being big sister Santas. I will let them do it all...and just foot the bill. And that's just fine. I can't abide the crush, the crowds, even the online shopping is getting annoying. That part, I won't miss. But there are a few other things that I do like, and I do miss.

We have a small, table-top tree for the first time ever....in a family room with a 12-ft. ceiling. It's that Boy. He climbs like a monkey and he's got snake-like long fingers that are into everything. Child-locks, schmild-locks. You get the picture. We knew the temptation would be too much for him to bear, and we were right. We have the tree up and blockaded, but it doesn't stop him from trying to climb up from beneath and behind the table, chewing on the cord that he knows leads to the lights....ahhh, boys! Similarly, most of my regular decorations, like my large, beautifully painted ceramic nativity scene, are not Boy-proof and are remaining in boxes this year. I have 5 Nativity scenes - the Waterford will be the only one out, because I can fit it on the mantel where it's safe. I am a Christmas decorating diva...and all my neat stuff has to take a year (at least) off.

It's a transitional year for Christmas here by the brook. Now, Christmas morning is going to be a pure gift-exchange extravaganza - not as many surprises, none of the childhood wonderment. And I am going to miss that part - a lot.

If I could, I'd rather spend these upcoming days as follows: read, pray more, watch old movies and EWTN specials, listen to the all-Christmas-music XM channels, bake, and cocoon. But the world doesn't let me. Another concert, 2 basketball games, and a wrestling match to get through this week...and then Friday's my last day at the office, which is bittersweet for me.

So I'm in a mini-funk, and it's mostly because I can't wait for the secular, stressful side of Christmas to be over.

It will get better once the kids are out of school and we have a nice, 2 week long CHRISTMAS - not "Winter" - vacation.

Hurry up, O Antiphons! Hurry, Baby Jesus! I need to think about You more and the world less...nothing restores the "wonderment" of Christmastide more than that.

Blog Holiday Potluck II - C'mon, there's still time!

It's not too late...we've had a number of side dishes added, so let's do cookies and other fun Christmas-y stuff this month! I've got a football-friendly addition over at the Bistro for ya...always a hit with the boys on a college Saturday or NFL Sunday.

Christmas in the Red Zone

Any of you who have been reading this blog for the past year or so have probably figured out that I am generally good-natured. But reading something like this sends me into that rare place...the Red Zone.

WTF ARE THESE PEOPLE THINKING? MICHELLE OBAMA, THE PRO-ABORT PRINCESS AS A STATUARY STAND-IN FOR OUR MOST BLESSED MOTHER? BARRY AS ST. JOSEPH, THE ULTIMATE MAN AND PERSONIFICATION OF SELFLESSNESS AND GUARDIAN OF THE MOST PRECIOUS LIFE EVER BORN UNTO THIS EARTH? OR AS A "WISE" MAN? DON'T GET ME STARTED....OH WAIT, I AM STARTED!!!!

The fact that I am in my ragey place in connection with Christmas seems sacrilegious. We are waiting for the Light of the World to arrive on the Feast of the Incarnation. Are there any brave priests or Bishops in Napoli who can stand up and protest this sickness?

I can't imagine that any Catholic of good conscience (not to mention taste) could possibly think this is a good idea, or that any amount of money is worth displaying this travesty in their stores. Not when your soul is at stake.

Why, after all this time, am I still capable of being shocked at the depravity of human nature....

Helo Mom Dispatch #10 - Friday Night Roundup

A number of tidbits since the last posting.

The boy finally got annoyed with her! (It's about time!)

After the Wednesday night ex-girlfriend debacle, my child texted to him:

Ummm....we need 2 talk 2mrw. Going 2 sleep, ttyl.

Well, as one might well imagine, the poor boy slept little, wondering what he'd done now. After all, he'd just put the ex-girlfriend in her place. "2mrw" came, but the little minx chickened out and avoided talking to him all day. Unbeknownst to the Princess, one of her "friends" texted to him after school, advising him that she was mad, didn't want to talk to him ever again, and to stay away from her from now on. (Never was on the Princess' agenda to go that far, so when the girl called to brag about what she'd done, the world ended once again). He got the message on his way to a wrestling match and was understandably hurt and angry. He crushed his opponents to the mat, however, and after he was done, sent a terse text:

I won my match. Ur friends r talkin' crap fyi. 'nite.

After several frantic unanswered return texts from a horrified Princess, he finally relented and called her back. 45 minutes of tearful apologies and repeated acceptances later, they each went to bed late, but slept better than the night before.

Yesterday, as a peace offering, the well-meaning Athlete came to the Princess bearing gifts. A project he made in his art class. A ceramic self-portrait. [I know, I know!!!]

He delivered it to her at her locker, asked if she liked it...and she (being my child) had to ask if it was "supposed to be him." He hung his head and showed her the note on the back apologizing for his lack of artistic ability, then ambled off to his next class.

She very gamely managed to make it to her next class before breaking into hysterics - half giggling, half weeping. "Mamma...it was so cute, but SO odd...all the kids in his art class knew he made it, so half of 'em are laughing, and the other half is offering to put me in a witness protection program."

[What came to mind for me: "It took me like 3 hours to finish the shading on your upper lip...." and "There's a lot more where this came from if you go to the dance with me...Yours Truly, Napoleon Dynamite" LOL!!!!]

But I digress. All is now well. I think. They're at the Youth Court Christmas party, so I am preparing for anything when I go to pick her up. Will it be Sweetness & Light, or Histrionics? Who friggin' knows.

+++

In other news:

• The dress is here! It's a bit more wine-colored than the holly-berry red as pictured, but it's lovely - it came beautifully boxed with perfume samples and a thank you note. It is now wrapped and hidden.

• Advice was dispensed, appreciated, but will not be followed. Still worried. about my George Bailey-esque buddy.

• Eye is almost back to normal. Not something I want to have happen again...gotta get a higher gate to keep that boy out of the female inner sanctum (he appeared out of nowhere, I jumped mid-swipe, OUCH!)

• We got clobbered by a foot of snow overnight and the kids had a snow day. The Beloved was at work for 19 hours ensuring the safety of travelers, appeasing the FAA, and riding herd over his minions on less than 2 hrs. of sleep, courtesy of the Boy's new bicuspid. More snow is coming tonight, and so he's gone again. But he will be at the wrestling match tomorrow. Apparently this is important enough to forego sleep...gotta make sure the Athlete can take down any would-be predators that might come near the Princess.

Progress indeed. Helo Mom is having tea and chocolates, then taking a long winter's nap...somehow I feel I will need my strength tomorrow.

Helo Mom Dispatch #9 - Mom Needs A Chiropractor

My neck keeps snapping back and forth, you see.

The Beloved remains steadfast in his disapproval. However, he did "bend" a little and indicated that he'd be interested to see the Athlete in action at the next wrestling match (at 6'5"/189 lbs. it must be quite a spectacle), and wanted to know when that might be.

WHOA! That's progress!

However....

The Cheerleading Princess is horrified at the thought, because she is leaning toward putting the kibosh on the whole non-relationship.

Reason?

CALUMNY

The small-town, even smaller-school rumor mill has suddenly been set ablaze, and the two of them are at the center of it. One of the Athlete's former upperclassman girlfriends is spreading vicious rumors about the "easy" freshman and the "desperate" senior. A fellow freshman girl who has a senior interested in her stated loudly at the lunch table that she'd never even consider dating a senior, "unlike some people." Her cheerleader friends are teasing her more than ever - there's a lot of dating crossover between the Athlete's friends and the cheerleading squad, as one might imagine. A teacher has asked even her about it, and volunteered to intercede and help her break things off if she'd like assistance because she's feeling "pressured" by an older boy.

After being targeted by that pack of mean girls for over a year now, the Princess goes into meltdown mode whenever she discovers that people are talking about her behind her back - she was in tears most of the evening. "I just wanted a new start in high school! I wanted to be invisible! I don't want people I don't know and who don't know me gossipping about me!" The usual platitudes about jealous girls, immature teenagers, high school drama starting and ending quickly, and being the bigger person don't work. She's extremely sensitive, and not without some justification given what she's been through. It's such a shame to see something that has been sweet and innocent turned ugly, and a kid turning away from the good to protect herself from the bad.

The odd thing is, nothing's changed between the two of them and they haven't seen each other outside of school since the infamous night at the movies. He has made no secret of his admiration for her, but has also told his friends that although they talk quite a bit, they are NOT dating due to the age issue and parental interdict. Why all hell broke loose on an otherwise average Wednesday remains a mystery.

So, will their association survive the scandal....or will they part ways?

Stay tuned....

Helo Mom out.

More Implausible Deniability

Wow.

The outgoing junior senator from Illinois had no contact with the governor who would appoint his successor?

Really?

Kinda like sitting in a pew for 20 years and having no idea what your racist hate-mongering pastor was saying all that time.

How stupid does he think us gun-clinging religious types are?

I wonder if [suddenly] "mistaken" David Axelrod - the top aide who discussed the [now-denied] contact between The One and Blagojevich's office on the air a few weeks ago - will keep his job...or conveniently go the way of Vince Foster at some point.

Harsh of me to say? Perhaps.

Jailtime will tell.

Not a prayer request I wanted to make...

...but please keep our dear Thorn and family close in your prayers.

Too verklempt to continue.

So You Wanna Be A Senator?

It'll cost you. Just ask this clown, IL Gov. Rod Blagojevich, who just got shackled and taken into custody for "staggering" corruption relative to whoring out Obama's Senate seat to the highest bidder.

Sheesh. That's two criminally corrupt Democratic Governors ousted in one year...my home state of NY and now my native state of IL...the political springboard of The One, carpetbagger extraordinaire.

Coincidence? I think not.

Please - prayers for my friend...

...the Boy's Godfather, whom I love like the younger brother I never had.

He has a lovely wife, a successful firm in only 2 years since start-up, a boundlessly generous heart...but then suddenly the market's tanked, it's Christmastime, work's busy, he has 3 kids aged 4 and under, he's not sleeping...he's severely, George Bailey depressed. He has a wonderful life, really, but like many people who suffer from depressive disorders, he doesn't see it.

I'm very worried. All of my standard rallying tactics have failed, and that's saying something. I will be having a heart to heart with him tomorrow and will not rest until he seeks outside assistance.

Please keep my friend in your prayers, and wish meddlesome me luck.

St. Dymphna, pray for us!

Amazing Cover....

....of one of my all-time favorite songs.



I'll always have my little '80's tender spot for Hall & Oates, but Brian McKnight just NAILS this song! (Apparently, H&O gave him high marks for this rendition as well).


Back to my break - the eyes have had it....and I've gotta get to Mass!

The Pictures Will Do The Math AND Tell The Story!

Take one of these:

+


+

=

+


So went my evening last night.
.


Yes, that may have been my voice you heard crying out in the wilderness....but I toughed it out long enough to get through the firm Christmas party (open bar, duh!) before heading to the hospital on the advice of a fellow lawyer's physician wife.
.


Blogging will be a bit light for a few days, but do enjoy your second week of Advent!

Update: BTW, the whole patch thing lasted about 5 minutes...the Boy took one look at my face, cackled madly, and screeched like a boy-banshee because I wouldn't let him claw the thing off my face. So I'm taking my drops every few hours like a good girl and wearing my Maui Jims inside and out.

This really stinks.

Helo Mom Dispatch #8 - Heavenward

Our stupid cable phone service has been down for 2 days. Most aggravating. The Princess is allotted a budget of $15/month for her cell phone. So she borrows mine, and (DUH!) rather than calling the boy, she texted to him all day. I had no idea - I didn't hear speaking, so I figured she'd left him a message.

She showed me the following text [I have supplied full words for the txt-challenged like me...]:

I know it will take time for you to trust me, and for you to know that my intentions toward you are pure and honorable. But for now, know that I pray each day for your trust, and by God, if I get it, I will make sure never to lose it or cause you to regret it.

[Take THAT, o jaded Beloved!]

I'm saving that exchange for posterity....or perhaps as evidence....on my phone.

One more bit of cuteness - because he now has my cell number, he let me know that my personal ringtone is Queen Latifah - "When You're Good to Mama" - from Chicago.

If Mamma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy...

The Female Essence Factor

If you hadn't guessed, one of the key topics around here these past few weeks has been boy-girl and man-woman relationships and relationship dynamics.

The Beloved proffered this bit of wisdom about the Athlete:

He's a 17 year old boy. Trust me. He only wants one thing.

I objected to this over-generalization and went into a full-blown defense of the Athlete and of well-formed young men (rare though they may be) everywhere. I see a caring, socially responsible and well-rounded young man who's been respectful (other than the movie-smooch move) and far more patient with the Princess than a purely hormone-driven 17 year old boy might otherwise be. So the Beloved revised his analysis:

Okay, fine. They want to smell you, touch you, then have sex with you.

At that moment, the baby crawled into my lap, put his head down on my shoulder and started sniffing my neck (like his daddy, he loves my perfume) while petting my hair with the hand that was draped down my back. An instant later, he shoved his other cold little paw down into my decolletage, started patting my sternum, made his happy-boy cooing sounds, and then grinned at me, much to the Beloved's delight.

See, we're all the same. We can't help it. Pigs, pigs, pigs. Pigs from birth to 95.

He smirked at us and sauntered off to the living room, copping a quick neck-sniff, a smooch and a terrible eyebrow wiggle on his way past me and our happy little boy.

Not a dry eye in the kitchen.

Merci, Monsieur Cartier...

Kudos to Lord & Taylor

So here's how my Saturday morning has gone.

Our Princess has found THE DRESS for the dance she has not yet been invited to. ("I know it's a while off, and I don't care if he doesn't ask me... maybe someone else will, or maybe I'll just go with my other dateless loser friends, but I am GOING to that dance!"). We found it at a late-night mall raid.

Sadly, our local Macy's didn't have it in her puny size (4), and at 9:55, it was too late to call around to other stores. So I went online last night. Gone. But the Macy's online shopper live-chat chicks gave me the names and numbers of several other stores in the NY/NJ/PA area that allegedly had it in stock. This morning I called 9 stores on the East Coast, and another 4 in Chicago. So....3.5 hours of effort. On hold for 30 minutes at a time in some instances. Got some major league attitude from a few of 'em, too. ("We have a doorbuster sale going on, we can't take time to go look for the dress for you, you'll have to come in like everybody else" --White Plains dress dept. clerk) Even after a few calls back from two well-meaning sales ladies in the midst of a huge in-store, one-day sale, NO LUCK.

So I google the darn thing. There it is on the Lord & Taylor website for $130...not on one-day sale for $90 like at Macy's, but that's academic at this point. Now it's a power struggle between me, the retail world, and the other skinny succubi in America who have snatched up all the 4's. I'm on a mission. So as you can imagine, I was thrilled to see it...

I clicked away to order it...

got the error message at checkout...

"item is out of stock"

I go back to the dress page, and sure enough...sizes 2,6,8,10,12,14 are all available. No 4.

W.
T.
F.
???

[String of expletives]

I hear blood rushing around inside my skull. Calming breath. I got the L&T online chat chicks engaged in the struggle, but they can't find it in a 4 either. So they referred me to the "Personal Shopper Service" in NYC. I called, spoke to a lovely NooYawkuh named Clara, who took my name and number. 30 minutes later, she called and had me on 3-way with a local store, they took my credit card number, gave me a 30% off coupon before I could even ask for a total, and so all told, tax and shipping included, $109.

It's a tough year for retail (and everyone else), but after all the time I wasted on Macy's, it was simple, painless, incredibly professional and prompt service, and they went out of their way to make it easy and cheaper than it needed to be. They're getting a thank you letter from me, and if you have any reason to shop there, I say please do, and show them some support if you can. Certainly, if you're looking for an out of stock item, they ROCK.

Helo Mom Dispatch #7 - Breaking the Code

UPDATE: 48 hours post-gym-spat, and all is going swimmingly. The Athlete called again last night...

Athlete: Hi Mrs. [Kit], it's me, Athlete.

Me: Hello m'dear. Let me get your little friend.

Athlete: Thanks. Oh, can I tell you one thing first, though?

Me: Sure...

Athlete: Thanks so much for your help the other night. Not just for me, but for whatever you said to make her see the other side of things. You have no idea how much it means to me. Most parents wouldn't care, especially in this case, because I know you and Mr. [Beloved] aren't real happy with the age thing. But I just wanted you to know I really appreciate it, and I hope you and your husband know I will always protect your daughter at school or anywhere else, no matter what happens between us. If there were a coolest mom of the year award, I'd totally make sure you got it.

Me: [a little verklempt and red-faced] Awww....thanks kiddo. Now...make sure you don't blow it. [Laughing] I'll go get her.

I'm with you, Kasia - whoever ends up with this kid is gonna be a lucky girl!

Oh, one more tidbit - I sat with another cheer-mom at the basketball game last night (she has senior and sophomore cheerleader daughters), and she extolled the Athlete's virtues at length, having known him and his family for quite some time. Good to know.

***
[R-r-r-r-r-ing]

Me: Hello?

Athlete: Hi Mrs. [Kit]. It's me, Athlete.

Me: Hello, Athlete...what have you done?

Athlete: I. Don't. Know. I was hoping you might be able to enlighten me.

Me: I only know part of it. She told the rest in a pitch only the dogs could understand. And they looked really scared. So you'd better tell me your side so I can piece it together.

[Their stories matched perfectly]

Athlete: She thinks I didn't stick up for her, but I really couldn't do what she wanted me to without looking biased. But if it's any consolation, those two [unkind word] girls got in huge trouble, and they were made to apologize to me today for interfering with my class project.

Me: Excellent. Explain it to her just as you did to me. Stand your ground and only apologize if you mean it, or she'll see right through it. If she's mean, kick her to the curb.

Athlete: WHAT?!? Oh, you're kidding. Okay. I'm really nervous now. She's gonna yell at me, isn't she?

Me: Remain calm. She'll listen.

(She did.)

During the 90 minute conversation, I get the following text:

U R DEAD!!! HOW LONG DID U TALK 2 HIM?

Yes, I broke the code and gave him words of encouragement. But all is forgiven, she did not kill me, and they are back to normal.

Whatever that means.

One more thing. She just told me she wants to hit the after-holiday formal dress sales when we go to Chicago. Seems the "Snow Ball" is sometime at the end of January.

Gulp.

Hmmmm.....perhaps some vino before bed for the Helo Mom.

Helo Mom Dispatch #6 - Fatal Error?

[thunk]

[thunk]

[thunk]

Somewhere, someone's head is beating against a wall.

Today's drama:

The Senior Athlete had to student-teach a class as a project for one of his own classes. So he chose a class he was sure would be great. The Cheerleader's Freshman gym class.

[thunk]

She was stunned to see him there, suddenly "in charge" of her (oh, and the rest of the class, too). He thought it would be fun, AND he had a built-in excuse to spend 50 minutes of his day with his cute little not-quite-official-but-everyone-knows-it-girlfriend...with the added bonus of seeing her trot about in a gym uniform as opposed to the regular school uniform. What a great day! God is good!

[thunk]

Foolish, foolish move. When he selected teams for the class rather than allowing the class to divide itself up along its usual partisan lines, she was separated from her usual gym-team buddies and became bitter with him. Apparently her team usually wins - and he seemed to be testing her ability to deal with loss and adversity. He made the mistake of telling her so when she complained about it.

[thunk]

When he then did not officiate the game in her [team's] favor, she sassed him. He had to respond appropriately, and so he called her on her unsportsmanlike conduct...followed by a whispered plea that she not get angry, he was doing what he had to, and trying to get a good grade.

[thunk]

THEN....just when it couldn't have gotten much worse....her two chief adversaries/girl-tormentors came into the class (cutting their own regular class) because they'd gotten wind of what was going on and wanted to see for themselves, and to sneer at and heckle them both. The Princess whispered to him that they didn't belong in the class, and that he should send them on their way (she had a point), but he refused, not wanting to make a scene and fuel their fire (a valid counterpoint).

[thunk]

Another teacher happened by, espied and yanked the skanks, and sent them to the office. The Princess, being an irrationally outraged 14 year old at this point, took this as a direct personal insult...he did not defend her honor.

[THUNK]

"HE should have done that! He could have asserted his authority as a teacher and gotten rid of them! He certainly asserted his authority over ME in front of everybody! I could've done a better job! I'd've SO kicked their a**es out of there, to HELL with the grade!!!" (Ouch! She was so furious, she started speaking in salty tongues!)

[THUNK]

She cut him dead for the rest of the day.

There was no 2 hour phone call tonight.

There was no call at all.

Radio silence.

(Oh, dear....)

I did my best to be the voice of reason, I really did. I sympathized with her, but I also advocated for the poor boy and tried to get her to understand that there might possibly be some good reasons for what he did, and moreover, for what he did not do.

[thunk]

I got the trademark slitty little green eyes of rage in return, which were only slightly cured by a peace offering of a hot fudge sundae and tea. Then we snuggled together under a blankie for a few hours, saying very little while the phone didn't ring....

She knows she's a brat. She knows that petulance rarely plays well, and pays even less. And we all know she's only 14. Some allowances must be made. She'll get over it and she'll even laugh at herself about it...at some point. Hopefully he will, too.

Oh, that poor, poor boy.

Eating Raul

Well, eating out of his hand, anyway - apparently that's what we can look forward to after The One takes office and undoes a half-century of US foreign policy regarding Cuba.

Maybe he'll announce the end to the embargo while picnicking on the beach with all of the newly-freed Gitmo detainess and the Castro brothers.

Wait! I know...they can call it a "Bay of Pigs Roast" and he can help light the fire to help them burn the past 8 American presidents in effigy.

Then he can head south on his American Downfall/New World Order Tour to hang out with his good buddy "Hurricane" Hugo Chavez.

Helo Mom's Head Hurts (Dispatch #5)

Okay, I thought it was over after the post-movie dressing-down and subsequent lull in the action over the holiday weekend. Then they talked for over two hours tonight. He did something so cute for her today, I can't stand it.

The Princess, much to her dismay, discovered at her annual eye exam early last week that one eye has gotten much worse (astigmatism) than the other. Hence, the contacts she assumed she'd be getting are not an option for her. She's mortified from the roots of her honey-blonde hair to her dainty little toes, but she did pick out some killer glasses (for classroom use only, Mom!). Apparently they discussed her ocular horror and shame at the movies.

The young gentleman figured she'd have the new glasses today, so in solidarity, he deliberately did NOT wear his own contacts and instead wore his "former 10th grade nerd" glasses to school so she'd have an optically-challenged buddy at her side in case anyone teased her. Of course, he discovered early in the day that she was still glasses-free and so his valor was all for naught. He didn't say a word to her about why he did it, but one of his friends pointed it out to her after school. I know I'm a major sap, but I thought it was a darling gesture, and so did she. So he's back in the game.

Two things:

1. That poor kid has it BAD.

2. I just want to bring him home and give him cookies, milk, and a hug. This is a good, thoughtful boy.

Constitutional Crisis?

What happens if The One turns out to be a un-natural (as in foreign-born) fraud? The domino effect of such an inutterable scam...the generations-long besmirching of the Executive Branch, its authority, and the consequences of its downfall on the other branches of this tripartite government would be incredible.

Link to article here

As I've been screaming at the tv since the summer, just suck it up and produce the da*ned birth certificate if you've nothing to hide...and as the Harvard Law professor interviewed in the article points out, I'd fire his a** too, were he my client and still refused to do so.

H/T to the fabulous Vincenzo

And then there's this:

Link to "Open Letter to Barack Obama" from the Chicago Tribune - an ad taken out by "WeThePeopleFoundation.org"

The United States Supreme Court is meeting later this week to conference on one of the several cases demanding production of The One's original birth certificate for inspection and analysis. Four justices must recommend hearing the case. Oh to be a fly on THAT wall!

Interesting.

Love this quote at the end of the ad, too:

“In a government of laws, the existence of the government will be imperiled if it fails to observe the law scrupulously. Our government is the potent, the omnipresent teacher. For good or for ill, it teaches the whole people by its example. Crime is contagious. If the government becomes a
lawbreaker, it breeds contempt for law; it invites every man to become
a law unto himself; it invites anarchy .” Olmstead v. U.S., 277 U.S. 438