Monday, May 22, 2017

First Communion

My first born received her First Communion this past weekend. It was such a sweet and beautiful thing watching all those little second graders in their springtime best and white dresses.

If you follow me on Facebook, then you already know this. But, if not-- See her veil?


It is my Aunt's veil from when she made her First Communion. Both of her daughters wore it and then I wore it for mine. Her eldest daughter had a slew of boys and I grew up and had children of my own. As soon as Birdie started second grade, I asked my aunt if we could please use the veil again. She came through for me! The dress was one my aunt had made for her only granddaughter when her son was married. Don't they look like they were made for each other? 


She did such an amazing job and we were over the moon proud of her. Before the Mass, we told her to be on the lookout for a kid to either throw up or pass out- it happens every year. This year, they figured out if the air conditioner was on, nervous little kids wouldn't overheat. Score one for this class being the first class in a long time to not have a man down. There was seventy something kids lined up for this special day.


This is her second grade class- aren't they precious? Birdie is bottom right.


As they started the procession, Birdie was first in line- because she's the shortest, but I like to think it is because she is the bravest!

Our priest is leaving this summer and transferring to a little island a few hours from here. He's sad. We're sad. But, change can be good- so I am looking forward to seeing what new things are in store for our parish.



The lighting at the church is ... funny... so it's hard to get a good picture. This is Birdie after the Mass and heading out of the church.


In a nutshell-- pictures will have to do the talking. I'm on borrowed time these days.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Watery Rainbows

Fuzzy takes the award for being my first child to find food coloring and to also find it fascinating.

Hooray?

I was organizing one of my kitchen pantries the other day and did not think twice about putting two containers of 8 dye packets at Fuzzy height. No other kid took a second glance at those beautiful bright colored lids, why would he?

Dumb.

Truly, the food coloring was in the new home probably 68 hours before I round the corner and find a rainbow that had been hit by an 18-wheeler. Food coloring, when squeezed, will spray a beautiful arc on a white wall. There Fuzzy was, sitting in front of the pantry that he had never noticed before, covered in food coloring.

COVERED.

His new outfit-- toast. His skin-- tie-dyed. His smile-- massive.

We found 6 containers of dye with only two lids missing. They weren't in his ear, we checked. Score one for parenting. Peeking in those little ears, we discovered that he squirted food coloring in his canal.

Green, in case you were curious.

Just as a curtesy, if your child does squirt food coloring in his ear, he doesn't need to go to the emergency room. You're welcome.

Did we learn our lesson?

Ooooooffffffffffffffff course not. Why should we?

Fast forward 52 hours and it is Sunday morning after a great concert the night before. Husband and Wife threatened the children that if anyone woke us up before the sun came up, they were risking their lives.

No one woke us up. They entertained themselves.

The girls, the angels, the cherubs... the most perfect specimens of humanity... they were watching Octaunauts and reading the Bible. Okay, the Bible is an exaggeration, but Octaunauts was legit.

Fuzzy? I mean Dante, well he found the food coloring again.
   And squirted is all over our white floor, making puddles that he jumped in.
      Those jumps led to splatters.
         The splatters led to giggles.
            The giggles led the parents coming out of their sleepy fog with the knowledge that the only thing scarier than the kids being too quiet for too long is when they are no longer quiet, but giggling by themselves.

Husband gets up first.

"Wife, I need you."

Wife: OK, I say muffled through my pillow and sleep.

"NOW."

Wife's Brain: Dang. What did I DO?! I've been asleep.

I roll out of bed and Husband is holding Fuzzy.

"Go into the kitchen."

Wife's brain: Dude. If you want breakfast, just ASK. You don't have to be ... so.... HOLY LSD RAINBOW BATMAN. 
Wife says: Honey, we're going to need an old priest and a young priest. 

I'll clean it up and you give your son a bath.

My son? Nope. Clearly this kid belonged to some other family.

It was in that moment, I followed the pitter patter of the psychedelic footprints that led to my son's purple feet, his green legs, and his massively wide smile.

MA-Mee! Look! I deed it.

Dude, we need to talk about guilty until proven innocent and when to keep our mouth shut.

Did we learn our lesson? I wouldn't say that. I will say that we are out of food coloring, sans those two little pods we have not been able to find...yet.




Tuesday, May 2, 2017

The New Door

The new door is massive. Like SUPER big. I can stand on my tip toes and reach for the sky without touching the top.

And I wanted to paint it. I wanted to paint it purple, to be precise.

My neighbor said, "Purple? Ya sure? Maybe you should start with something tamer. Sit on it for a year and make sure you want it purple."

Nah-- I need to go ahead and get on this. Eggplant? Dove's breath? Violet? Berry Bush? Wood Lilac? Obi Lilac? Husband said no. I said yes. He said no.

I said yes.

He said no.

I said, "Let's ask Yancey."

He said okay.

{Because surely the interior designer would not pick out a purple door. He felt secure in this statement.}



He was right. She didn't pick out a purple door.

She picked out a pink door. Salmon to be precise. And it is awesome!

He loves it.  Lie.

I don't know how Husband feels about it. Let's leave it at he loves me.




We are waiting on the doorbell, so there are some tools that are still out there. But, I've been working on the window boxes and our outdoor furniture. The front porch is going to be my favorite part of the house. It is decided.