Preparing for the Princess and the Permit...

(Taylor Swift is so darn cute and funny!)

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.

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.

Coolest or Most Pathetic Mom...I Don't Care!

Well, as some of you now know, the Princess was finally diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. Suckfest.

We have had such a busy summer with the tutoring, the speech therapy for The Boy, karate, ballroom, and the big math exam...no time for vacation (except Therese, who got to sneak away to visit cousins and then a week trip to Quebec with grandma), and now we get this wretched news after all her hard work. We've been mad, we've been weepy, and now it's time for some rebellion. So I decided to indulge my inner teenager.

I am taking the Princess to her first-ever rock concert.

U2 and Snow Patrol.

There. I said it. We will dance and scream and sing like fools, just without the ganja or other assorted illicit "meds" that will be floating around. We will buy the t-shirts. We will be in BOSTON!

I am telling the school it's a college visit. :)

Laugh if you dare....we won't be able to hear you for a few days afterwards. We are in the 4th row just off to the side of the stage.

WOOHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

HMD #37 - Court-Date

Well some professional obligations are keeping HM quite busy of late, but here's the overdue update on the Westley-Buttercup ice-cream social:

1. Nice, well mannered young man. HM likes him.

2. His first "date" ever. He just turned 18.

3. His parents allowed him to go, but he pointedly neglected to tell his older siblings he went out to meet over ice cream with a...gulp...Catholic girl. One who is a cheerleader and wears the short-skirted uniform at that.

4. He is pondering the USMC but is concerned it will interfere with his Christian values and obligations.

5. No dancing allowed by his pastor or his parents.

6. He is not a fan of some of the #5-like rules and regs of his very fundamentalist Baptist upbringing.

7. He asked if she had any objections to dating a Protestant, she said not as long as said Protestant has any objections to dating a Catholic.

8. They plan to have another meeting when he returns from family vacation next week.

We shall see - HM thinks these are two very good kids who, while virtuous and religious in their own respective faiths, are too different for any sort of relationship to be successful beyond being friends. Maybe boot-camp penpals.

HM has been wrong about such matters before. The Athlete leaves for college in 3 weeks and intends to persist from afar.

Sigh.....

HMD #36.5

Beautiful Stranger takes the lead:

Westley and Buttercup are scheduled to meet - ice cream social is tomorrow....tensions are high....cute little sundresses are littering the hallways and bathrooms....hair options are being considered.....

HM will update you accordingly, after dodging the "does this make my butt look big?" and "I think I'm getting arm fat!" bullets several dozen more times between now and then.

HM out...I hear practice primping coming from the third floor....must feign sleep.....

HMD #36: Question of the week

If you are a Princess, do you choose to remain with a Beautiful Liar (Beyonce, Beyonce...Shakira, Shakira)...or do you take a chance on a Beautiful Stranger (Madonna, Madonna)???



The Beautiful Liar



More drama with the belaguered Princess/Athlete duo...another spat erupted over the original lying episode. The Princess, whether sadly or luckily, has inherited her mother's cross-examination skills and is now tending to pick apart even the most mundane statements the Athlete makes and stories he tells, because she has a hard time believing him. It is good that she spots these things, but it's not exactly her most endearing trait. She's caught him in some pretty glaring inconsistencies more than a few times. All I can say is that it's a painful process to watch them both go through.



He's not helping matters - the more defensive he gets, the more likely it is that he's not being completely candid or accurate. He admits it eventually, but not before making her feel guilty for not believing him ("I can't believe you think so little of me...") - even when he knows he's not telling the whole truth. She nailed him for being emotionally manipulative as well as dishonest, and rightly so. And so here we are...five days, several dozen roses, countless texts, and scores of profuse apologies later. She remains sequestered in her garret on the 3rd floor, while he stands on his family's hillside across the river, gazing over at our 'hood and missing her.



To his credit, he's recognized that much of this petty dishonesty stems from hiding information from very strict and unyielding parents, and he's making strides by being more open with them, even when it means he isn't allowed to go places he might have otherwise gone under cover of going to a movie with friends, etc. It's a tough behavior to change. He swears he's trying. I hope he's being honest about that, at any rate. However, for now, and perhaps for good, they are on boyfriend-girlfriend hiatus again.



The Beautiful Stranger



In other news, the Royal Grandparents have acquired the teen-yard-slave services of a fine-looking, well-raised, and respectable young man...let's call him Westley....who spotted our Princess (Buttercup?) flitting about barefoot in the garden in one of her cute little sundresses, blonde tresses blown about by the breeze, laughing and chasing her little brother through the beanstalks. (This was a few weeks ago, during the first break-up period.) I was sitting on the porch swing and watched him stop dead in his tracks, crane his head forward...I SAW the poor boy's jaw drop open, but then he recollected himself, turned away (and saw me smirking as he did so), grabbed the rake he'd come out back to get, and practically ran back around to the front of the house to keep working with King Grandpa. We ate dinner, but young Westley remained outside because he hadn't finished his work and didn't want to intrude, despite numerous invitations to join us. When we were done, he came in to check with King Grandpa about the next day's agenda, but fell silent when the Princess came into the kitchen with a stack of plates. She (unaware of his interest in her) smiled, said hello, and offered to prepare him a plate now that he'd finished working. He smiled back and very politely declined, because his mother was holding dinner for him at home...but then clever Queen Grandma mentioned that Princess had prepared one of the side dishes. He promised to try what she'd made when he came back the next day. :)



Apparently he's smitten. He made some discreet inquiries the next day and asked Queen Grandma a number of questions about the Princess, her intereests, her grades, the state of her soul, etc., and then asked King Grandpa for his permission to speak to me about possibly COURTING the Princess, as the Beloved is not here for him to ask properly. Yep. He gets it. He's a hybrid-homeschooler. Another half-Catholic, half [fundamental Baptist of some sort] boy with a very conservative upbringing. Just got done with his high school work a year early and is pondering college vs. enlisting in the USMC when he turns 18. (Former Marine King Grandpa is skipping about with joy and whistling the Marine Corps hymn...Queen Grandma is dropping all sorts of little hints via email and phone call about how gorgeous these two blondes would be as a couple...) He is a very handsome boy, the Royal Grandparents have raved about him and what a good kid and hard worker he is, and the Princess admits he's....interesting. Young Westley confirmed to Queen Grandma that he approves of Princess Buttercup's culinary abilities as well as her overall appearance, demeanor, and toddler-wrangling skills. Queen Grandma heard about the latest "off-again" incident and gave him our home number yesterday. He indicated that he would be making use of it in the very near future.



So the question remains. Should she stand by her Beautiful Liar and hope he does some growing up and character building, or invite the Beautiful Stranger over for a chaperoned dinner or perhaps an ice cream cone outing with the family?



Hard to know....all HeloMom does know is that she needs some Jimmy Buffett-esque boat drinks....

HMD #35....Denouement

Well, well, well.....look who's back in business!

Sort of.

We had a rollercoaster ride of a holiday weekend around here. The weather finally became tolerable (sun, low 70's) in time for the 4th, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the rest of this week, as we have houseguests who deserve to get out and see more than toddler tv on the flatscreen all week. That said, the heater is still kicking on at night because the house temperature sinks to less than 60*. The Boy is wearing thermal jammies, and the down blankies are still on all the beds...but the sleeping weather, I must say, is excellent.

Anyway.

Since writing the last HMD, we have had a sad, angry Princess who refused to discuss the Tall One Who Must Not Be Named at all. And if the subject arose, she got quite nasty and slitty-hatey-eyed, and ran from the room. This got HeloMom thinking. You know...the old adage that the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy. So, one night last week, I finally cornered her, (sitting on a stool in her full length flannel nightie sipping on a cup of tea to warm up in July...snort!) shortly before midnight and employed my best interrogation/cross examination skills and got her talking.

Very reluctantly, very slowly, through lots of tears, she admitted that she felt like she had a huge hole through her midsection - she was missing a big (okay, maybe tall) part of herself - her best friend. But she couldn't let go of being angry at him for betraying her by lying and letting her down, as her former pack of female friends had done before him. We examined what the lies were about (really more a matter of "been there, done that"-style exaggerations and boasts to impress her by making himself seem "cooler"), and eventually agreed that while BAD to do, they didn't really revolve around anything more than his own insecurities and relative immaturity. He wasn't lying about anything material or detrimental to her, to their relationship, or anything of serious consequence. The real consequences came back down on him - he has been despondent, and, as he put it one day while finishing up yardwork "I hate myself far more than she could ever hate me for what I did..."

When I thought the conversation was over, she looked at me with tears pouring down and said "WHY? Why did he do this? Why didn't he know that I loved [!] him already the way he was and he didn't need to impress me?!?" I told her I could not answer, and suggested she ask him those questions herself and tell him how she felt, just as she'd told me. She handed the cell phone to me and demanded that I summon him immediately (She might as well have ended it "...to my Presence Chamber"). I should have made her do it herself, really, but she was afraid he'd say no to her (doubtful) and would listen to me.

So - sucker, hopeless romantic, or overly meddlesome parent that I am - I sent the text at 11:55. He arrived at 11:59. He lives about 7 minutes away.

When I opened the door, he walked into the kitchen, and she was nowhere to be found. He eventually followed the sound of sniffles into a dining room, where she was on a chair, curled into a little flannel ball. He walked over, cradled her, and carried her out to the living room where they talked everything out for the next hour. When I peeked in, she was fast asleep, snuggled up against him. He looked more relieved than overjoyed.

They have both apologized and forgiven, and are going to try again, with the proviso that when he leaves for college, each may date other people, so long as they advise the other in advance.

HeloMom is cautiously optimistic. We are currently debating Transubstantiation via text message while he's lifeguarding, and she's taking accelerated geometry with a tutor. He has befriended Padre Pyro on Facebook and may go straight to the source for better information than an amateur apologist like me can provide.

Sigh....

P.S. For Old Bob - HIGH FIVE!!!

HMD #34 - The End of the Affair

Yes, I'm afraid it's true. Our favorite young couple is no more, as of this past Monday evening. Nearly 8 months of mostly fun, mixed with a fair amount of frustration, has come to a peaceful end. Mostly peaceful, anyway.

There was no big "incident" - no cheating, no new boy or girl, no more shouting, no would-be chivalrous fistfights....nope, nothing like that. It came down to a few seemingly trivial episodes of exaggeration and lying about something of no consequence when it would have been much easier to tell the truth.

Something clicked in our Princess' head. "If he would lie to me about something this silly now, what won't he lie about? And will happen when he leaves for school?"

All the respect and trust they worked so hard to build up - and did - despite all the many obstacles, questions, and objections along the way...was lost over a few boastful statements and one really stupid lie that was easily proven false, and which he admitted was a dumb thing to do. But too little, too late. With all the other recent issues that have cropped up, she decided it was enough.

She gently, but firmly, let him know that she thought it would be best if they didn't date anymore, and tried to scale back to where they always got on well, as good friends. She said he was literally gasping for air as she said the words, and she felt terrible. She still does. He didn't argue or try to negotiate, but accepted her decision and told her he did not blame her for what she'd decided. They promised to keep the matter private between them and that they would not bad-mouth each other.

She's spent the week taking exams, while he was home absorbing the shock, working at his two lifeguarding jobs, and kicking himself for making a series of blunders that led to this final outcome.

Graduation was this past Friday. She still attended the ceremony, and they went to three parties over the weekend, each one less awkward than the one before, and tonight he stopped by with the now-heartbreakingly gorgeous formal prom pictures from the dance two weeks ago. They really did make a stunning couple, and they really do like each other a lot.

He has been a gentleman and has accepted defeat gracefully, but he has not conceded the war. He vows he will win her trust and respect again, even if he does not win her back. "She's the love of my life, whether or not I'm the love of hers." I thought this was a bit grandiose (aren't they always, at 18?), but he reminded me that his mother is only the third girl his dad ever dated, while his dad was mom's fifth. They are apparently a highly selective lot. "A mater, not dater" as the saying goes. Princess was his #4. I have no doubt he will find a #5, but try telling that to a heartbroken young man. He will be down and out for awhile. As will she.

She says - and wisely for one who is 15 - that she gave this a great deal of thought, and as one who prefers the idea of courting to dating, she could not see any point to dragging things out over the summer, wondering if this past month was an anomaly or if these basic character questions would keep coming up. When she realized she didn't want them both to remain miserable as she tried to figure this out, it finally hit home that this very nice, usually well-mannered boy is simply not the right one for her at present, nor will he be "the one" in her future. However, she feels very strongly that he will be a part of her life, in some way, for a very long time. She has not been happy this week. There's been no sense of relief, no giddiness, and there's been less-than-zero interest in all of the offers that have started flowing in from other boys ("Vultures!" as she so scathingly put it...), and less than her usual quest for perfection in the hair and makeup department. She is mourning and missing him, but she knows it is truly over. She also knows herself better now than she did back in November, and she knows that it will be a long time before she's open to the thought of getting to know anyone new, or letting them get to know her as deeply as our Tall Boy has done. She's shuttering her inner Princess from the outside world's view, and it pains a Helo Mom to see it.

HeloMom hates to see so much sadness on both sides of this breakup. I don't think there's much hope for any sort of romantic reunion, but then again... quien sabe? They may surprise us someday. But not anytime soon.

I'm very proud of them both for handling this with the amount of mutual respect that they've shown thus far. I hope and pray it continues.

And so ends the HeloMom Chronicles. Perhaps a post-script here and there....

Until next time.

HMD #33: Back to virtual reality...

Hello friends....yes, I am alive! I am well! Thank you for your kind inquiries. The Beloved is still in town (yay!), but leaves tomorrow (boo!).

I can report that the Prom went relatively well. The Athlete was still in a fair amount of pain and under strict orders to take it easy and only dance the slow dances, which he did - each one - with the Princess. He had a better date with Vicodin than with the girl, who was torn at first between staying at his side/minding him and mingling with the others there. As it turned out, she was glad that she chose to stay at his side, unglamorous as it may have been, because all of the "dancing" to anything with a remotely upbeat tempo involved her least favorite high school dance pasttime....grinding. Here are kids in tuxes and some crazy-expensive silk and satin gowns rubbing pelvises together and, as she put it "basically having sex with their formalwear on," in a basement of a fraternal order's lodge that smelled of fifty-plus years of beer, sweat, fish fry, cigarettes and despair. Ughhhhh....

As the lone freshman present, she came away having had a nice time, but being disillusioned with the rite of passage that is prom, and wondering if it will be worth going to it again for each of the next three years. But she will go, because it is what is done. However, she vows that she will chair the prom committee so that future proms will be at tonier venues such as the country club, not the area's various lodges - cheap prices notwithstanding.

That's our girl.

As for the future of our senior-freshman couple....well....graduation is Friday. Graduation parties abound for the next two weekends. Then it's summertime. She's dusting off the Jane Austen collection and stocking up on magazines and iTunes. He's planning roadtrips to amusement parks and pilgrimmages to such gourmand lures as Chik-Fil-A.

We shall see what transpires.

I am not optimistic, but that's okay. They each need to do some growing up, and that may well involve growing apart. It's a matter of doing so without hard feelings....and that, friends, isn't easy at any age.

HeloMom out - but I shall return in a day or two, once we're Belovedless and readjusted to the empty spot at the dinner table.

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.

HMD#32 - Gut Wrenching...

...and I mean that literally! Yes, the Athlete was feeling ill last night, physician father told him to suck it up and go to bed....and so once he started throwing up, dad relented and Athlete went into the ER this morning, complaining of severe pain on the right side.

He had his appendix out this afternoon.

Prom is Saturday.

He swears he will be at the prom, no matter what. Princess vows that she will not go with him if he's violating the surgeon's orders.

We are all in uproar.

HeloMom out.

HMD#31: Athlete's Foot...

...belongs in his mouth. Or perhaps it should be up his....okay never mind.

As noted in a recent dispatch, there have been a number of scandals and fist fights at the local quasi-Catholic high school, and the Athlete started one of 'em. As was also noted, Princess was not pleased that he did so, and they had a tiff about it that escalated into a full-on fight, wherein he raised his voice and let fly with some expletives.

Princess, being a princess, doesn't do well with that sort of thing. Not that hearing foul language is particularly shocking to her at this stage of the game, but having it directed at her as an outlet or as an unfortunate side of a young adult male meltdown....not so much. As with the gym class brawl, his response was disproportionate to the offense. So she stopped the conversation and post-nuclear winter has set in. He attempted to lobby me for help, I reiterated to him the lack of manners and impropriety of the behavior involved...and he started in on me with the raised voice and language - not a personal attack, but a lot of frustration that no one will agree that his thuggery was justifiable.

Not cool. HeloMom went yard on the boy and set him straight on some basics about how to treat females he cares about - if he wants said females to be part of his life, anyway. Princess was not amused that the Queen was treated with disrespect by the Athlete. That, to her, was worse than his treatment of her. Nobody messes with her HeloMommy. (Hee!)

Dozens of hollow-pologies ("I'm sorry for what I said to you and your mom, but not for what I did to that kid") and as many dozen roses later, Princess is not yielding. He cannot understand why. She has explained that her values and his may be too divergent to make the relationship viable. He is in true distress. She is cordial, but not cuddly. She does not think she can go back to the way things were, because he lacks not just respect for her and/or for her mother, but he lacks sufficient self control to never have "gone there" in the first place. A wise observation. But now what?!?

Prom is in a week.

Are you there vodka? It's me, Kit...

HMD #30 - Prayer request

Update #2: The verdict is in - not an osseous tumor...not a lipoma...looks like a traumatic injury but the kid wasn't injured there in recent memory. Very strange.

Update: 48 hours, no result. Dad is a physician, you'd think they'd let him know sooner than us mere mortals. I don't like it.

Gentle readers: the Athlete found a golfball mass on the inner ridge of his shin bone, between the muscle and bone. Not painful, not a result of bruising or other trauma, deep enough that he found it as a result of swatting at something on his leg and had a "wtf is that?" moment. His physician dad sent him in for a bone scan and MRI yesterday. Results should be forthcoming sometime this afternoon.

I'm voting for a lipoma.

In the meantime, this sucks.

More soon,

The Concerned HeloMom

The Prom Dress - HMD#28

Yeah, that's it. --->

What there is of it.

Any questions?

Good.

Please don't snark at me.

The Beloved is up in arms.

The Athlete is enchanted.

I need a Xanax.

Helo Mom out.

[Cold, with any luck.]

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.

When you care enough to send the very best...

LMAO. Really...sometimes I think I went into the wrong profession.

The Princess has a Religion assignment. She has to turn in a "creative" project about Judaism. Among the choices, making a cookbook, a movie, a magazine, or 7 greeting cards depicting the seven Jewish holidays (Oy! Seven? Who knew? [Seriously...I didn't!]) That last one's what she picked.

I immediately came up with several ideas and the requisite artwork....I will only share the tamest/most PC ones here: 1) a Passover card that, when opened, squirts genuine lamb's blood on the recipient ("Just wanted to make sure the Angel of Death passes you by this year..."); and 2) One of those annoying musical cards that blasts out a tune by Rosh Hashannah Montana: "You get the best of both worlds! Two New Years to get plowed on! Mazel Tov!" (Vincenzo, master of Adobe...a little help?!?)

I will spare you (and your souls) the rest. But if you have any ideas, we're open! Nothing horrible or anti-Semitic - i.e., the ones I'm not posting had just slightly inappropriate PG-13ish humor that's not fodder for the blogosphere and/or the easily offended - rememberI have a few junior readers out there.

Helo Mom Dispatch #24 - At Last...

...the Princess has caved and is allowing the Athlete to tell the world that they are an "official" item. The sick nonsense from last week was the last straw - the barn door is open, the cows are everywhere, the pigs are snorting, and the jackasses will continue to bray.*

Why fight it?

So she's decided to paint the barn red and build a fence around it. She invited the Athlete over last night to have a "serious talk" - he was visibly terrified when he showed up - and, after a few terms and conditions were set forth, she told him she was all his and no longer cares who knows about it. He accepted and looked like he was floating...and taller than he already is...when he left. Even HeloMom got grabbed up into a bear hug as he left for home.

Privately, I wonder what will happen at the end of August. It is going to be terrible when he leaves for college.

Pleased but pensive HeloMom...out.


*Yes, that's a snide and nearly literal reference to the relative sizes and characteristics of the pack of girls responsible...and as a well-nourished and outspoken woman myself, I don't make size or b**ch cracks lightly. But when a 200 lb. + kid calls my 119'er "fat" and a sexually active 14 year old accuses my unassailed 15 year old of being an unchaste abortion-haver, well...all bets are off. (See why I keep things relatively anonymous here?)

One for the Random files

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HeloMom Dispatch #23 - A Psalm's Answer to a Sick and Crazy World

How appropriate that we should be at #23 for this one...

Well, so much for getting back to normal. After a week off from school, the Princess went back to school, overdid things, and has been experiencing additional abdominal pain. So we took Friday off and went back in to the hospital for outpatient testing to ensure all is sound and healing properly. No bad news from that yet, so we will assume all is well.

In the meantime, the Princess noted some tension and much smirking and snarking from her classmates when she returned (yes - the same little pack of snots who've been horrible to her since jr. high) and the Athlete noticed some strange behavior among his set as well. It all finally made sense on Thursday...one girl asked the Princess if she was going to be able to return to gym due to her "delicate condition" and another chimed in that no, she'd be recovered soon, and didn't she look like she'd actually lost weight due to her "procedure." Princess didn't put it all together until she was sitting alone on a crowded bus and pondering it all on her way home. A girl in hysterics burst through the door and related all of the details. Then she got sick.

Later that evening, the Athlete was asked about "the rumor" by his physician father, who'd been told outside of the school environment that something unkind was circulating about the Princess at school - more specifically, that she'd had something other than her appendix removed. Fortunately, he knows his son as well as I know my daughter (and really, you can't get pregnant by kissing each other goodnight with mom right there...), and no one who knows either of them well lends any credence to such nonsense. But try telling that to a 15 year old mortified Princess and a now-feral Athlete whose Princess' good name (and his by implication) has been besmirched by a group of vicious, nasty, jealous little [bad word]s for no purpose other than to hurt and damage two nice kids whose lives are centered around living out the kind of goodness and virtue that such maladjusted creatures cannot understand. He's very, very angry and ready to "throw down" if anyone dares speak it aloud.

So this weekend has revolved around soothing the wounded pair and coming up with strategies to get through it. It will all blow over, they will emerge unscathed, those who know them will laugh it off, and those detractors who persist will demonstrate their own foolishness to others. (I will spare you a recounting of the inner thought processes and utter rage that HeloMom has experienced these past few days...)

And yes, I had a chat with one of the school administrators on Friday . For all the good it did, which was not much. The Athlete was in the office raising hell and I was on speaker phone with a silently weeping Princess in the background trying to come up with a solution. There isn't one when you're dealing with teenaged girls. Pulling the rumormongerers from class (this was the school's suggestion) and engaging in the accusation/denial ritual will not cure the problem or make life easier for Princess. In fact, it is like throwing gas on a fire and things will escalate. Plus it's a matter of giving legs to the rumor and making it more talked-about, more widely. I think the Athlete and Princess need to deal with it under the radar by starting a counterintellgence campaign among their peers and that will be more effective than anything the adults can do at the school level. Fortunately, the little pack of 9th grade girls who seem to have started it are not well-liked by anyone...save themselves. It will die down, and they will been seen for what they are.

The one thing that struck me most about the administrator's reaction to it all was the utter lack of understanding that it is NOT simply a matter of gossip and slander - she's put up with that crap from this group for awhile now. But to a minority-opinion-having, ardently prolife girl, this is the lowest and most disgusting sort of rumor imagineable. I had to explain more than once that it assaulted her character, sure, but worse, it violated her core beliefs and her dignity. And given the flak she's taken for voicing her feelings about abortion, about the presidential campaign (remember the inauguration letter flap?), and even the teasing about her purity ring, who can blame her for never wanting to set foot in the place again? We're past that now, and she's ready to return and fight back tomorrow.

But what a thing for anyone's child to go through. As I told the young couple, the devil never seems to relent, especially when you do your best to live out your goodness and principles for others to see. Don't give in to the anger and despair, and hold your heads high.

St. Michael, pray for us. (And yeah, I'm thinking it's high time for some Old Testament smiting on the evildoers. Is that so wrong?)

Helo Mom is not a fan of the meds, but a little Xanax might have been nice these past few days. But in the absence of that, there's this:

PSALM 23 v 22

The Good Shepherd

Psalm Of David

1 Yahweh is my shepherd,
I lack nothing.

2 In meadows of green grass he lets me lie.
To the waters of repose he leads me;

3 there he revives my soul.
He guides me by paths of virtue
for the sake of his name.

4 Though I pass through a gloomy valley,
I fear no harm;
beside me your rod and your staff
are there, to hearten me.

5 You prepare a table before me
under the eyes of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil,
my cup brims over.

6 Ah, how goodness and kindness pursue me,
every day of my life;
my home, the house of Yahweh,
as long as I live!

(From my Jerusalem Bible, 1966 ed. )