Dad prakti teis
Those words were taken directly from the practice spelling test John gave Meaghan. It was the heading she wrote on her paper, which when he asked her what it meant, she explained that it said Dad Practice Test.
Methinks we still have some work to do.
(In her defense, she did get all the words off her spelling list correct, but we couldn't stop laughing at the irony.)
I went to an OB appointment on Monday. From here on out I'll be visiting my doctor's office weekly because I'm only 19 days away from my due date. Not that I'm counting or anything...
Though I've already had hours upon hours of labor contractions, a brief exam proved this little bambino isn't making his debut any time soon.
"Really?" I said to the doc. "How is that possible? After all that pre-mature labor dramaaaaaa?"
"You don't want the baby to come now," he replied.
"I don't?" I said, doing a poor job to disguise my dismay.
"No, it's too early. The baby needs a few more weeks," he said, patting me on my hand.
I resisted the urge to grab him by his iridescent white doctor's jacket, shove my face into his and say, "No, sir, this baby needs to come NOW!"
Instead, I just nodded my head weakly and said, "Yeah, you're probably right."
Beating up the baby-doctor probably isn't a good idea anyway, even if he has no clue what it's like to be nine months pregnant.
I did pull together some All Saint's Day costumes for the darling party we attended on November 1.
From left to right: St. George, St. Therese, Our Lady of Fatima, St. Patrick, and Blessed Teresa of Calcutta
All the festivities left St. Patrick tuckered out.
Don't let the costume fool you, Blessed Mother Teresa was a handful...
Pint-sized saints checking out the prizes.
Did you see the photos of Pope Francis kissing the disfigured man? If you haven't, take the time to view them. The images are so moving.
When Francis noticed the man in the audience, the pope got out of the his pope mobile, walked over to sick audience member, laid hands on him, and then prayed over him. My guess is the man has Neurofibromatosis Type 1 (my son, Patrick, has Neurofibromatosis Type 2), a disease whichcauses benign but typically painful tumors to grow all over the body. It's the same disease the Elephant Man, Joseph Merrick, reportedly had. I keep thinking how ostracized the man must feel--how lonely and isolated he must be because he looks different--and then I think about Pope Francis picking him out of a crowd and going over to him and kissing him.
The example and the beauty of it all makes me weep.
For Meaghan's birthday, my mother-in-law sent Meaghan a rainbow loom.
Are you familiar with this latest fade?
This new kid invention is sweeping the nation, which is pretty amazing considering it's a plastic peg board used to make bracelets out of rubber bands.
The dude who invented this is making millions and laughing all the way to the bank. The stores can't keep the rainbow loom on the shelves. Meaghan has already spent countless hours making multi-colored bracelets and honestly, I'm just happy she's doing something somewhat creative that doesn't involve a technological gadget or a television screen.
I just need one stupid brilliant invention like this and John and I can retire early and do charity work.
I've been a real jerk lately.
I can give you a thousand reasons why but the gist of it is this: I don't feel good, it hurts to move, yadda, yadda, yadda. I don't like to be around myself right now, so I can imagine how my kids must feel.
But you know what amazes me?
The enormous capacity my children have to forgive me for my juvenile--no, childish!--behavior.
This morning, after I yelled at them for the third time (over something ridiculously stupid), I went into the family room to cool off (and cry). While I was predisposed, all five of my kids locked themselves up in a room and went to work on this "We appreciate you, Mom" card.
I still don't have everything I need ready for the baby but my mom is coming this weekend to help me organize baby clothes, pack suitcases for the kids (they're going to her house), help me make up the baby's crib. I'm so grateful for the help I almost feel like crying.
My neighbor asked John if it was ok if he rubbed my belly.
"I just love to rub a mama's belly and feel the baby kick and move," he explained.
Ordinarily, I might find his desire to touch my tummy weird, but my friend was so genuinely delighted by the fact there is a real baby in my stomach, that it was awesome to watch his reaction when the baby actually did kick.
I stumbled upon this video for moms earlier this week. I identified with it so much and found it so encouraging. It's only 3 minutes and totally worth the watch.
(Side-note: One day I'm going to write a post about how Satan attacks mothers and fills them with fears and insecurities about their parenting. Last year I was talking to my spiritual director about this very issue when I said, "I feel like Satan is attacking me."
Without batting an eyelash, the priest said, "He is. Satan hates mothers. Jesus' mother was the only person he couldn't get to and it drives him crazy. Of course he's attacking you. You stand for everything he hates--life, generativity, etc. You need to say the St. Michael prayer throughout the day and beg Mother Mary for her intercession and protection."
Anyway, after I watched the video, I thought about the way all these mothers are insecure about the same types of issues and while we all certainly have things to work on as parents, if we become to fixated on our weaknesses, it can keep us from doing the good we're called to do.
And I'll quit proselytizing now.
The pope says it's solemn nonesense.
) Go see Jen for more coherent quick takes.
Have a fab weekend.