A Two-rrific Day

Mopsy is two, and hardly terrible at all.  Just mischievous and funny and sweet and endearing and tender and tough and everything else a two year old girl should be.

A baby's first birthday is always sort of a wash for the guest of honor.  It's really more about the parents surviving that first year and living to tell the tale.  

But when they turn two?  Oh, they know something's up, especially if they have older siblings who keep saying, "Whose birthday is coming?!  Is it yours?  Are we going to have cake on Saturday?!  Are you going to get presents?!"

That kind of palpable excitement translates well, my friends.

So Mopsy had her special day, and it was grand.  Her big sisters frosted and decorated cupcakes for her, complete with pink sugar sprinkles and a Minnie Mouse candle. (Mopsy is a Minnie Mouse devotee.)  

She got some fun toys from relatives near and far, and generally did whatever she wanted all day long, thanks to a big sister who went to bat for her from the start.  After I denied Mopsy's request for a Ritz cracker breakfast, Sally put her hands on her hips and said, "Mommy.  It's her birthday.  Just say yes."

Want to guess what Mopsy had for breakfast?  At least she ate well the rest of the day.  Until the cupcakes -- then it was no holds barred.

Happy, happy second birthday, Mopsy.  We love you so much!

Classic Mopsy face

Hey, are these cupcakes for me?

Oh, yeah.  They are totally for me.

You have to rock the cupcake birthday shirt and tutu!

Hugs from GeeGee are a great gift

Mommy and the birthday girl

7 Quick Takes

One

I finished The Hunger Games this week, and I quite enjoyed it.  I thought it was a good story, paced very well, with compelling characters and an interesting (albeit brutal) concept.  I am looking forward to reading the rest of the trilogy to see what happens with Katniss and the gang.

This is not a spoiler, just in case I am not the last person on the planet to have read the book, but the description of the showers/beauty regimens in The Capitol sound so good to me.  I know what the author is trying to say about perpetuating the perception of perfection, but I still want one of those ultra luxe showers with the fifty nozzles for water and shampoo.  And one of those full body glow scrubs.  The kind that buffs away any wrinkle or blemish.  I could really get into that.

Obviously, I'd be the first one offed in The Hunger Games.

Two

I've been out trying to get the remaining pieces for the kids' Easter outfits this week because I hate shopping during Holy Week.  The latest I will shop is Spy Wednesday, after that if I don't have it, then we'll do without.  All the kids really need at this point are shoes.

They always need shoes.

I did pretty well with the hand-me-downs this year.  Some years I feel like I strike out because the children are the wrong size at the wrong season for the clothes I have stored away, but sometimes I strike it rich and I feel like I am going on a spree down in my storage room.

I have been known to dig through my huge plastic tubs, shouting "yes! I can really use this!"  It baffles Francie, who has said to me, "why are you so excited?  You knew these were down here, you're the one who put them away!"


I admit that she has a point, but come on . . .  wouldn't you be super excited to pull out a barely worn jacket or dress that is the perfect size for that one child who has nothing to wear on Easter morning?

You know you would.

Three

Speaking of shoes and dressy clothes for the kids.  What is wrong with the children's clothing designers of America?  I mean, seriously, what are they smoking?

I know I've complained about this before, but I'm in the mood to beat a dead horse.  Once the kids are out of the nice, but rather expensive Gymboree/Hanna Andersson styles, you are in big trouble if you are not looking to dress your daughter like a hooker or your son like a thug.

Take Francie, who is almost 13.  The problem is that she is also 5'5" tall string bean with a 9.5 shoe.  The girl's got some tall genes.  She fits into extra small women's clothes, but women's clothes are not always appropriate for her.  So I look into the juniors department, and all I see for sale is the smallest amount of Lycra that could legally be called a garment.

Some of those skirts are nothing more than a wide belt.  And don't get me started on strapless tops/dresses for her age.  Really, people?  Strapless dresses at Easter?  Ugh.

And it's not just Francie.  Sally is a normal sized 5 year old, and I saw strappy wedge heels laid out as "dressy" shoes for her.  Is it abnormal that my 5 year old cannot pull off a wedge heel?  I don't think so.  What happened to patent leather Mary Jane's?

Of course, I went one aisle over in the store and I saw tiny wedge heels for Mopsy.  Who is turning 2.  TWO!

Gah.

Four

Speaking of Miss Mopsy, her big day is tomorrow!   The only thing she knows about her birthday is that there will be cake, and that's good enough for her.

Whenever someone asks her if it's her birthday soon, she just looks at them and yells, "CAKE!"  She's like a tiny, less verbal Marie Antoinette. (Even though M.A. never really said that.)

Note to self:  You better get cracking on her cake!

Five

Hmm . . . wonder when I get my CAKE?!

Six

Speaking of cake . . .

The bishops of Pennsylvania have declared today a day of fasting, prayer, and abstinence for religious freedom.

And I have to make a cake today because there is no time tomorrow.  No spoon licking allowed.

Boy, do I love my religious freedom.

Seven

I know that the coming days will be filled with some heavy duty prayer time for many of you, so could I ask a tiny favor?

Would you be so kind as to send one up for two friends of mine, both young and both battling cancer?  One just started her chemo and is unsure of how it will work, and the other is using her last ditch effort and battling for her life.

I'd appreciate it tremendously.



And now . . . I'm off.
Happy Palm Sunday weekend, my friends -- we are almost through, hang in there!

{p,h,f,r}: the photo archives edition

A photo editing website that I used fairly regularly is shutting down (boo!), so I've spent a lot of my computer time this week getting my all my photos off their site and organized onto my computer.

Turns out I had a lot of photos over there, but the one fun thing about moving all of them was the nice little trip I took down memory lane.

Since I am also preoccupied this week with the first of many IEP evaluations for Fiver, and preparing for a certain little moppet's second birthday, I thought I'd share a few snaps for this week's {p,h,f,r}.

And check out all the other pretty, happy, funny reality over at Like Mother, Like Daughter.

So delicious.  I could just eat this baby up all day long.

I can't help it, I just love her expression.  She gives people that side-long glance often, as if to say, "Seriously?!"

This was at my sister-in-law's wedding.  Think we look pretty happy?  Well, we hadn't seen each other in six months, so you bet we were happy.  

Chocolate pudding on a 2 year old can be very  . . . {real.}
Now, who can guess which 2 year old this is?

Bad mom moment: at first I couldn't remember which baby's baptism this was.
Then the contextual clues kicked in and I remembered that I was holding Baby . . . . Bun!  

Speaking of Bun, he hasn't changed all that much.  He still makes this face in the morning.

Can you tell this was college in the mid-'90s?
I am rocking the puffy bangs and the dark, matte lipstick that all the girls wore.    

I just love this picture of Francie, Fiver, and Sally.  This was an outtake from our Christmas card, and I still regret not using it for the actual card.  It captures their personalities perfectly.

Speaking of personalities, what a pair!
Francie and Fiver were just about through with that photo session.

I think this is still my favorite picture of Sally ever.
This is not retouched, her eyes really were that blue.

Bun, making a classic Bun face. 

Fiver, what a sweetie.

 

This was only a year ago!
(Baby gets to wear that dress this year.)

And this was only 8 months ago!
These little girls sure have changed.

But some little girls never really change.
Sally has donned a tiara for as long as anyone can remember.

Fiver seems like such a little guy in this picture.
Those glasses were brand spanking new in this picture, and I still like them the best out of all the glasses he's had since.  I wish they still made those frames!

Mopsy still sucks those same fingers to fall asleep, but she added some hair twirling once she had some!

Another picture from my sister-in-law's wedding.  I wasn't the only one who was happy to see Rob.

7 Quick Takes

Thank goodness it's Friday.   I've been out of the house for a different reason every day this week, and I realized how unaccustomed I am to doing so much running around.

My household chores also showed me how seldom I have a week like this past one.  Funny how those dishes won't just leap into the dishwasher themselves.  And am I the only one who hates to finally make it back home after a long day and see 3 baskets of laundry waiting to be folded?

Anyway, I'm home now and still not doing chores so I guess I've made my peace with the laundry.   Let's forget about all that and do some quick takes.

One

Sally told me she had a secret.  When I asked if she would tell me, she whispered in my ear:  "Mommy, I REALLY want to be a cheerleader."

Oh darling, that isn't so much a secret as a forgone conclusion.   If ever there was a child fashioned of the the stuff of cheerleaders, it's Sally.

Two

I have just started reading "The Hunger Games."  I am only about 40 pages in, but so far it's good.  It's definitely an interesting concept for a story with some eerie parallels to a few things that depress me about our culture.

Although I have been hearing rave reviews about the books from just about everyone (the cashier at Target, the nurses at Rob's office, my niece, my friends), I hadn't really planned on reading them.  But all that goes out the window when you have a middle schooler who is desperate to read them and see the movie.

A mom's got to have the inside scoop these days.

Three

Since I mentioned that it is depressing to me, can I just mention how increasingly bizarre and cruel I find our society to be?

Marriage not going the way you want?  Dump your spouse.  Better yet, just marry yourself.  I'm sure your "inner-groom" will never leave his underwear on the bedroom floor.

Did you get a result that shows the baby you're carrying might be ill or less than perfect?  Well, you know what you can do about that.  Did you miss that window of opportunity?  No worries, you can kill the baby after it's born.  Babies aren't really real people after all.

And neither are old, sick people, so don't get any uppity ideas about your worth, Grandma.

How did we get here?  When did we become a society that just throws everything away?

Anything that is worth having takes blood, sweat, and tears, but our culture is so averse to anything that remotely looks like suffering that we would rather kill it or, better yet, not even conceive in the first place.

Why are the parts of life that are the most sacred and redemptive seen as the very things that need to be rejected and rooted out?   As a nation, we will reap the whirlwind for this.

Lord, have mercy on us.

Four

I wanted to go to one of the Stand Up For Religious Freedom rallies being held today, but in the end I didn't go.  I was too much of a wimp, I guess, to take the smaller set into the city at lunch/nap time by myself.

Did anyone go to a rally?

Five

Continuing my trend of things that depress me  (although this depresses me considerably less than abortion and infanticide), I have about had it with my ongoing saga of trying to lose weight.

I have been doing all the right things, all the things that every doctor says when you need to lose weight.  I have been eating fresh, nutrient dense foods, I have been exercising every day, I have stayed away from all kinds of (delicious) goodies.  I have been very strict with myself, and even enlisted Rob to make sure I wasn't cheating.

And I'm still fat.  So there you go.  Actually, I technically am losing weight, but I am losing it at an absolutely glacial pace.

I know, I know, I should focus on feeling healthier and being stronger, not just weight loss.  But let's be real, I can't see the inside of my body, so I have no idea if my organs are happier now than they used to be.

All I can say is, they better be the happiest little organs ever, because I'm about ready to sell one of them for a chocolate cake.

Six

In decidedly non-depressing news, this pixie will be 2 next weekend! How did that happen?

I clearly remember being hugely pregnant at her first birthday, and trying to imagine her second birthday with an almost one year old sibling in attendance.  I just couldn't do it.

And thank God for that, because Mopsy and Baby are better than anything I could imagine.



Seven

I was watching the old BBC version of Pride and Prejudice while I was on the treadmill this week (Colin! Firth!) since it is a great story with nothing objectionable for the small guys who are my constant companions.

Mopsy's real name is the same as one of the prominent characters in the film, and every time someone called that character, Mopsy would turn around and look to see who was calling her.  She was getting very annoyed until she finally started giving the television dirty looks.  That kid is a real pip.

(and ten points to the person who can guess Mopsy's name.  No prize, just ten points.)

Happy Friday, my friends!

Wearin' O' The Green

Happy St. Patrick's Day from our whole gang of wee people!

St. Patrick, pray for us!

Leprechaun #5 waiting on the kitchen counter for her shoes

Leprechaun #1,  in a ridiculously large tam o'shanter,  hanging out on the parade route

Leprechaun #6 is not amused.

Leprechaun #3 has some serious bling.  Naturally.

Leprechaun #2 is ready for the parade.

Leprechaun #4 suffering from post-parade let down.

Leprechauns assemble!

Who Says You Can Never Go Home?

I had the opportunity for a rare treat on Monday night.  I got to attend a Lenten soup supper and presentation sponsored by the women's guild at my parents' parish.

This, of course, also used to be my parish, but it has been many years since I've been considered a member there and in those intervening years, the parish community has built a beautiful new church.  I don't know my way around anymore, so I tend to think of it as an entirely new parish.  Still, it is a truly lovely church in a very traditional style.  Not at all movie theater-like or spaceship-esque (those seem to be the two things that church designers in the 70s and 80s went for.)

I'll admit that I wasn't exactly excited to attend the program, mostly because evenings are a busy time here, and my parents' parish is an hour away.  Rob arranged to leave work early, but as it was, we still passed each other like ships in the night, with me yelling directions for finishing dinner on my way out.

I hate that harried feeling, and I had poorly judged my time with other tasks during the day, so I was not as far along on dinner as I would have liked for Rob's sake.  Especially since I knew he would have to handle the homework detail as well.

Once I got to the church, I saw how the whole program was set up (which was adapted from a very similar program at a neighboring parish).  The hall was filled with long tables, eight women to a table.  Each table began with a hostess. That hostess was responsible for inviting the women seated at her table, for setting and decorating her table, and for providing fruit for after the meal.  My mother was the hostess of our table, and I sat with her, my sister, my sister-in-law, my aunt and my cousin.

My mother was also in charge of arranging for the soup, and let me just tell you, people came out of the woodwork with crock pots full of soup.  I brought a pot of baked potato soup, but there was every kind of soup you could imagine.  There were so many pots of soup, that they had to create three soup "stations" to fit them all.   I myself had three different bowls of soup (chicken tortilla, crab bisque, homemade tomato), which is not a very Lenten attitude, but what could I do?  All these women had gone to the trouble of preparing all that soup!  And we soaked up all that soup with bread donated from a local bakery and grocery store.

The theme of the program was a Lenten journey through Mary to Christ, with a specific focus on the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady.  After we all ate our fill (and then some), we listened to a talk given by a parishioner who had experienced a great tragedy in her life; ten years ago she accidentally backed over her little daughter in the driveway and killed her.  I cannot imagine her pain or being able to speak the way she did, but since it was her daughter's tenth anniversary, she wanted to do something to honor her.

She spoke very simply and honestly about how faith was the only thing that brought her and her family through that time.  Not only her faith, but the faith of her parish, of her community, and especially the prayers of the children close to her daughter.  It was a very lovely, hope-filled, and affirming presentation.

After we had our fresh fruit dessert, we listened to another presentation by an IHM sister.  Her talk was very interesting to me, as she delved a little more deeply into the seven sorrows of Mary.  She talked at length about Simeon's prophecy to Mary, "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and the rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted, and you yourself a sword will pierce, so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." (Lk 2:34-35)

Because she was Jesus' mother, Mary would have to bear great sorrow.  Piercing sorrow.  Sister spoke about how Mary's way was to ponder all these things quietly in her heart, but that the Blessed Mother was not without consolation.  Further on in Luke we find the prophetess Anna.  "And coming forward at that moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem." (Lk 2:38)

Sister said she loved the passage about Anna because at the moment of Simeon's heaviest words about the  future, Anna was there to carry Mary through with her faith and her hope.  She softened the blow, and Sister said how often we have Anna's in our lives.  People who "come forward at that moment" when our distress is so great.  We are also called to be Annas to the people around us.  We need to be the ones to soften the blow for someone else if we can.   I thought it was a beautiful reflection for Lent.

Once the meal and the presentations were finished, I hopped in the car and stopped to visit my dad before I drove home.  We stood in the kitchen, talking, and I had a strange flashback to when we used to do that while I was in high school.  Everything about the kitchen felt familiar and strange at the same time.  I didn't live there, but I belonged there in a way, and I'm glad that I got to stop and see my dad alone.

The drive home was late and long, but pleasant because I was alone with my thoughts.  (And the 80s on 8 channel on the satellite radio. Can't help it.)  Lately, the kids have been so loud and all encompassing, that I've begun to wonder if I even have thoughts anymore.   It was nice to find out that there are one or two still rattling around in the old noggin.  

All in all, it turned out to be a great evening, and if all these ideas would only jump start the blogging again now that I'm back online, I'd be golden.