Devil Dogs...

...have their tender spots, especially for our four legged friends! I love this story!!!

Ooh Rah!!!

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.

Happy Birthday!!!

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

She is a blessing each and every day.

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

Hahaha....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the Little Boy

Dearest Little Boy,

It's me, Mamma.

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

"I love you, Mamma" would be great.

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

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

Just thought you should know.

xxxooo,
Mamma

Birthday Boy!!!

Our little man is two today!!!

For you newer readers, here's the story of The Boy.

(Okay, I'm gonna go sob uncontrollably now...)

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.

Helo Mom #25 - A trend?

Our dear Athlete is coming to Mass with us tomorrow for the second time in three weeks. We are heading to Grandma's for dinner afterwards, so that may be the draw, but hey...it's progress.

When he joined us two weekends ago, he said that was the first time he's actually paid attention to a [homily] in a long time. (And it wasn't even the one good homilist we have around here saying Mass...sheesh!) He also liked the fact that we were done in an hour, whereas his Methodist service typically lasts for around two hours, then there's the social donut and coffee component for another hour thereafter.

This seems odd....I mean, they only believe in two of the seven Sacraments, they believe that faith is all it takes to get to Heaven...what the heck do they have to talk about for that long? They do sing better than we do, though, I'll give 'em that.

Anyway, I think the Princess is kinda happy he's been joining us, because a fair number of their schoolmates attend and can see that they are "together"...at church and not at a kegger or in someone's back seat. I also sense some gladness on the Athlete's part, both for the respectable "together" time as well as the fact that he can lock eyes with anyone he catches "admiring" her from the pews. Apparently he noticed several young knaves last time, and pushed one into a locker on that following Monday morning at school for doing too much peering and not enough praying.

Ahhh.....young love.....

HeloMom out.

(P.S.: No "Passion Sunday" comments. Naughty Little Therese took care of that already.)

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

Happy Anniversary To My Beloved!!!

Sixteen Years of Sublime!

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

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

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

Say I'm a fool...

[They] say I'm not for you

But if I'm a fool for you

Oh, that's something...

Two Hearts Beat As One Lyrics

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

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?)

Happy Birthday to the Beloved!

45 years of fantastic...love you!

HeloMom Dispatch # 22 - For A Limited Time Only

I'll let this one speak for itself.

[sweet photo now removed]

(Yes, I am violating my own policy. Photo will be gone at midnight...)

Happy Birthday Princess!!!

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

[sniff...]

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

[Again with the sniff...]

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

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

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

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

Ahh, to be a princess....

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

HeloMom Dispatch #21 - Hearts Afire

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

And once again, the romance continues...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Helo Mom out.

HeloMom Dispatch #20 - Still a Princess

Off to Mass in a bit, so we'll keep it brief.

They managed to have a good time - they only did the slow dances due to the ankle, and she danced with her dateless girlie friends for the fast ones...and he had her home ten minutes after the dance ended. :)

She was nominated to be the "queen" of the ball, but did not win. Quoth the Athlete:

Who cares? You're the queen of my heart, Princess.

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.

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.

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....

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"