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...)

Is it really almost May?

Greetings gentle readers -

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back soon -
xoxoxo,
Kit

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!

Totally Self-Indulgent Monday

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

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