Showing posts from August, 2013

Past meeting the Present

As a child in my mother's family, we would all get the opportunity to attend "Lake Camp." My aunt, Spooky, and her husband bought a lake house on Lake Martin when we were all quite young. Before boys, before we shaved our legs, and before we understood the power of a kid's memory.

We would drive to Atlanta and spend the night in their large, three story, gray stucco house before rising early the next morning and pile into the wood-paneled van with the sliding door and merrily drive across the state line into a new time zone. Not just Central Standard, but Lake Standard. This is the house that had a dormitory in the basement, complete with bunk beds on the walls and futon mattresses. We would spend the days jumping off the dock into the freezing water, thankful that they dropped 100 pounds of gravel in the swimming area at the beginning of each summer so our feet would not be in mud. The cousins would pile in the ski boat or on the jet skis and head over to "The …

Church with Children

Now that we are getting settled, we are making a more concerted effort at attending Mass. This task is easier said than done. It's easier to prepare for Mass, load two kids up in the car by myself and drive with my eyes closed in the rain than to get them to sit still for 55 minutes (yes, we totally sneak out after Communion. Those last five minutes are excruciating to the wiggling baby and stubborn four year old. It's at that moment that this mom has had enough.)

There are few excuses for a Catholic to skip a Vigil Mass-- they are typically at 5pm on Saturday and 8am, 10:30am, noon, and 6pm on Sundays. Before brunch? After? Before dinner and drinks out on a Saturday? Before Sunday supper and the start of a great week? Really, there are no excuses.

Because Catholics love babies and lots of 'em. And that priest who has no children is totally cool with that two-year old running down the center aisle with the pregnant mother chasing after her, or feeding Saltines to a small o…

Skeeters will carry me away...

Yesterday's blog was not my best- the pictures were good, but the words were not in the best order. We will have good blogs and bad blogs. At the typing of yesterday's blog, LMC was not not considering eating coins and Bennie was not not crying. The phone was not not ringing off the hook and the doorbell had not not been pressed 144 times. It was a touch of crazy around here.

Today, well at least- this morning, things are a little calmer. LMC is resting on the couch having felt puny this morning and Bennie is sitting in my lap rotating between chewing on my old college t-shirt and gnawing on the ancient desk Husband bought me several years ago.

The week leading up to the Baptism was crazy-insane. My in-laws delivered a new load of furniture and artwork. The workers installed attic fans and LMC heard from my parents 154 times that "the mosquitos are going to carry me away!"

Why do I mention this little factoid?

Husband was on call one night last week. Bennie was final…


Sweet baby Bennie was baptized this past Saturday. Wanting to keep it small, we kept it to family and the closest of friends. Enfamil Alice is her godmother. Alice should be my godmother, as she is always there for me. Everyone should have a friend like Alice. When I need advice and when I need a friend- she is there. 
A laugh, decoration help, whatever-- she is there.
And I love her. I love and trust her so much, we put our youngest daughter's faith in her hands.
My godfather is my mother's cousin. He's Uncle Pat to me. He and his wife lived down the street from my parents and across the street from my brother-- the circle of trust, as my father calls it. At one point, my grandfather, parents, brother, aunt/uncle, another aunt/cousin, and her son all lived within the neighborhood. It's a big neighborhood, but it's a bigger family.
When I was about six, I gave my godfather a set of pink suspenders for Christmas. He told me how he wore them into a judge's office…


I feel neglectful for having not touched my blog in almost two weeks. To say we have been busy is both an understatement and a lie. We have spent time waiting for estimates, running back and forth to swim lessons, teaching MB (whom I think I shall start calling Bennie on the blog because we have a lot of initials here. Thoughts?) about food and having her cut two teeth. Husband has been working, I have been cleaning, though Megan the cleaning lady might beg to differ with that, and we are slowly trying to get settled and find a level of normal.

There have been two trips to the grocery store, one trip to find a dress (epic FAIL), a beach adventure to our old beach house where we reunited with the Preacher Family. They brought news from home and will be relocating much, much closer to us on Saturday. Charlotte is only about two hours away! Husband made a wine rack, that cannot seem to be finished. Not from lack of work or lack of wine, just over and over and over and over with the sand…