You’d be a Fool to Turn Down a Pizza

So tonight, we’ve crashed Papa’s one-man party.

And we've crashed it old-school and downright hard.

HE THOUGHT, he’d be in bed by 6:30 PM.

To which we say: BOOOYAH.

Here we are, it is 4 hours ’til bedtime, entertain us Papa, entertain us!

HE THOUGHT, he'd watch Wall Street Week In Review in silence.

and we've said

Have you seen Rudy? Dec is dying to see it!

He THOUGHT, he’d eat leftovers from the fridge - but instead we stroll in with extra large “Roni Pies”......

Tonight, we expected Grouch but got Grace. We were warned about gray but got gold. Hard-shelled was replaced by soft-shelled soul. Sour skeptic replaced by cheerleader.

And I sat back, watched it happen, and wondered why I felt surprised..

On our way over this evening I asked Dec if he thought Papa would be mad that we

were bringing food with us.

To which Dec responded, "why would anyone be mad if you brought them a pizza?”

and as I drove along I realized that I had no response, he was right. You’d be a fool to turn down a pizza.

So tonight, with Roni Pizza, we came and lifted and propped the leg, told stories of Chicken Soup With Rice skits at school, and of PlayDates with Hive Camp Friends.

We told Papa that the weather was cold, dark, and windy. We talked of nothing really. But looking back on it all, it was everything.

And during it all, we shared and savored the roni pies. For a split second, I was home again - a twelve year old girl - on Friday Night, Pizza Night. That is how comfortable, warm, and good it all felt. Tonight, a kind and pizza-loving soul opened to us. And we were happy to be there for it all.

When Everything We Say is Christmas.

We walked up from the lake the other day after decorating the flower boxes at the clubhouse

and a huge hawk flew overhead.

I shouted back to the hubs who was carting Nonie up the hill in the red wagon -

"is that a red-shouldered hawk?"

And before the hubs could reply Declan said (in his most serious bird-watching voice),

"I'm pretty certain that was the partridge from the pear tree."

And then,

He stole a line from the Charlie Brown Christmas movie and tried to convince Nonie

that the Angel who sings in glorious melody to announce Baby Jesus' birth - that

Angel is named Harold. As in Hark the Harold Angel Sings.

And then, there is the great debate going on in our house about the order we light the

Advent Wreath. Purple Purple Pink Purple is my method. However I'm out numbered

3 to 1 in favor of: Purple Purple Purple Pink.

I mean it does seem right that the pink would be Christmas. But I didn't go to 29 years of catholic school to not know how to light an advent wreath.

Christmas has infused itself into the very depths of our family routine. Our conversations

are laced with talk of the little baby Jesus. The brilliant star that lead the shepherds over hill and dale - yup, we made that star and stuck in on our Nativity Scene yesterday after Declan noted its importance in the story and lacking in our Nativity Scene. What is a Nativity Scene without the star?

We talk about silent nights, peace on earth, joy in this world, and how something

as tiny as a baby, can really be a King.

During a time when it seems the whole world is spewing forth Christmas, it is nice

to digest what it means as a family. We take bits and pieces of songs, conversations, stories

dreams and swirl it into our Christmas.

It is this time together, the time it takes to make sense of the lights, the songs, the smells of the season - that always becomes my greatest and most un-wrap-able present.

Right now, and during these days, everywhere we go, everything we do, everyone we see, everything we say is Christmas.

Perfectly Christmas.

They Got Me.

Instead of their Mom last night -
they got me.

Because their Mom was in Michigan at the bedside
of her father who had quadruple bypass surgery the day before.

THEIR Mom stayed an extra day to be with her father
who happened to be celebrating his 72nd birthday.

So instead of her, they got ME.

And I was warned that they would be SAD, SAD, SAD that Mom wasn't home.
So I pulled out all the stops and we played and laughed and laughed and played.
(And managed to get all homework done, lunches made, and reading completed...)

But while taking care of them I realized that it is the subtle differences that make
a Mom a Mom.

And the way I Mom, isn't the way their Mom moms.

Like, my kids jump out of the tub and then I cocoon them in a big blue towel and
call them a burrito.

But, THEIR MOM lays a towel down on the lip of the tub, then they stand up on it
hold their Mom's hands and jump like a flying squirrel onto the slippery wet floor.
(Or, at least, this is what they told me usually happens).

When they are wrapped up nice and snug in their cocoon, it isn't called a cocoon.
Or a burrito.

So when I went to dress them in their PJs (which they call Jammies), we were missing
a key ingredient.

Underpants.

When I came into the family room with the wrong kind (?!) of underpants I went back
into their room searching. And searching.
And I knew they could hear me from their playroom because THEIR MOM still uses a baby monitor. So I kept chatting to them.

"Can you hear me, I'm searching for underpants la la la la underpants where are you????" I shouted into the monitor.

And I could hear their distant laughter from the other room. Far away. While they waited
for their underpants. Laughing at my antics.

For a moment, I think they were happy that they got me tonight.

So, when I came back into the family room waving my empty hands and telling them that I couldn't find any of the "right kinds of underpants". They laughed again.

Because the underpants were on my head.

And I'm pretty certain THEIR MOM has ever done that before.

All She Keeps

In the kitchen of a modest house in Tipperary, there is a beat up and cracked old toy.

Few would think it is worth keeping, especially with space at such a premium.

The kitchen is the heart of this home, and any who come to visit - rarely leave this space.

It has a huge and always piping hot old stove, a table bursting with seats, and a handful of scattered armchairs. Once your eyes have gotten beyond the pastureland, the Galtee Mountains stand tall in the distance outside each rear-facing window.

We come to this kitchen for stories, for warmth and of course, for the incredible food. Hot apple pies, traditional Irish breakfasts, and soul-warming cups of tea. Despite the close quarters, there is magically always room at the table for one more.

In it's prime, this house was home to 2 energetic parents and 9 children.

Eleven people in total, shared just four bedrooms. Well, three actually, since one room was always reserved for special guests. Today, far less frequently of course, it is the grandchildren who bustle through the doors.

I walked slowly through the house this time, it is simply bursting with memories of kittens at the back door, siblings swinging from bunk beds, and walking the family herd of cows to pastures on the way to and back from school. There are religious figurines and crosses visible at every turn. There are tables filled with pictures of beloved grandchildren in America. And, there are closets that ooze worn-out wellies in every shape, size and color imaginable.

Look at all she keeps.

This visit I couldn't help but focus on a haggard old water-filled toy. How had I not seen it before? I used to play with the same toy when I was younger. Pushing a button shoots rings through the water and the skilled handler shifts the toy around to catch rings on the hooks.

I learned that this faded orange gadget was the youngest child's toy. She played with it during her battle and ultimate surrender to leukemia. It was her hospital toy. It was her home toy.

As her mom kept caring for her and comforting her day in and day out - as she watched her little girl's hair thin and eventually fall out....the water-filled, ring-toss toy was played.

And her mom kept watch. Over her. And her toy.

Now, 25 years later - her mom keeps watching over the toy and the mirky water that fills it.

I'm amazed that she even lets visiting children touch it, but she does. They delight in the simplicity of it - bubbles, gurgling water, colorful rings. It requires no batteries, just attention.

Do my children remind her of her courageous little girl when they pick up the toy to play? I wonder.

When the children lose interest or turn careless with the toy - she removes the toy from tiny hands and returns it to the place of honor very near her kitchen sink in the back corner of the room. The taped side faces out.

In this cozy house the mom keeps watch over the wellies,

the homemade pies,

the statues of Mary,

the memories of bunk bed wars,

the dairy cows mooing in the distance,

the picturesque mountains,

the kittens at the back door,

her courageous baby girl's water-filled toy....

and me.

This is all she keeps.

The Post to Make Me Remember...

We are just 5 hours in from a 2 week stay in the Motherland.

Our Holiday was all we could have every hoped for + a great big big bowl of cherries on top.

In so many ways, I return from two solid weeks in Ireland and think that Americans complicate life more than they need to.

Let this be the post to make me remember that

bigger isn't always better

closer doesn't always mean close

a shortcut isn't always

families stretch far beyond the limits of bloodlines and lineage.

We (Dame and I) joked about the amnt of photos we'd taken along the way....

I guessed a good 700+.

As the computer churns out the 1,500+ pictures, I have nothing to do but await them....

Humbly.

Ever so Patiently.

And of course, above all...

Anxiously.

I think I know my favorite photograph already.

(But only time will tell).

Ireland was spectacular in every way. Do I even need to tell you that?

At nearly all crossroads, I felt a first line of a blog post brimming up inside me and I felt a tug on my heartstrings to set down and write.

So here is to the pots of gold awaiting my little ones,

and me,

and you...
at the end of each rainbow.

May we appreciate them and
May we know them

when we reach them.

(More pics to follow....God willing).

To all things green, gold and everything in between.


And to our super lovely leprechaun of a chauffeur this afternoon who helped us through the transition from dreamland to reality.


We love you Mr. O'Rourke.

And then some.

I Will Always Have...

When Declan was a peanut (days old)... my BFF Claire flew in from Brazil to meet him.

As if it were yesterday, I can still picture her holding Declan down at the edge of the lake.

I took pictures as the sun set off in the distance, silhouetting Claire and Dec.

And, I can still hear her softly spoken words to my 12-day-old-son, "I am your Auntie

Claire..... and I will always have gum....".

At the time, her not-meant-for-me-to-hear-words melted my heart.

This was my best friend, who had flown in from a hemisphere away,

to hold my dear son in her hands and to tell him, in a simplistic way,

that she'd always have something exciting to offer up -

even on his darkest of days.

For anyone who has ever tuned in to the sitcom "Friends", you'll know that our Dear "Auntie Claire" borrowed her lines from "Aunt Monica", who offers the same promise of a never-ending supply of gum to her nephew Ben (her brother Ross' son).

Regardless, Claire's words meant a lot to me. And they have meant a lot to Declan in the days since, when Claire has filled days with creative and enthusiastic FUN and on occasion, gum.

****

Last night, I lay in a tent in the middle of my backyard with 4 nieces and nephews, 1 son, and 1 daughter.

I'm so proud of my little campers.

They did a beautiful job relaxing under a star-filled sky, snuggling into their soft sleeping bags, and giving way to the power of falling asleep with a cool breeze on their face and far-off animal cries in the distance.

During the night

I helped Cormac scamper from the tent and pee just before dawn.

I made sure Aidan wasn't suffocating himself as he nestled deep in the corner of the tent.

I became surprisingly proud of Anna, who was on her first official sleep over and was the first to give way to her exhaustion. She got my unofficial vote for "best all-around-camper".

I was comforted by the calm, still, presence that Mags exuded from the far edge of the tent. I knew she was one of the last to fall asleep, but I also knew she was enjoying the view of the star-filled sky from her cozy spot.

I was happy to have Declan snuggle up between his cousins on the night of his 6th birthday.

And, I was amazed that Nonie fell asleep so soundly, long before the cousin tent winded down.

****

While the cousins fell asleep, I recounted (outloud) the number of nights I've spent in a tent:

(must be close to 400) - from Glacier Peak in Washington, to the frozen lakes of Minnesota and Ontario, to the Alpe d'Huez in France, and the chipmunk overrun beaches of Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia - and of course, the sandy beaches of the Vineyard and South Carolina. For a moment I was impressed with the amount of time I've logged in tents. Intense.

I encouraged the cousins to listen for new sounds. NOTTOSLEEP.

And, to try to ID familiar ones. They listened for a long time and finally came the question I was waiting for:

"Can we stop listening and start sleeping now?"

To ease anxiousness,

I twirled the hair of my 6-year-old nephew.

I unzipped and zipped and unzipped and zipped the tent for tiny bladders.

I shined the light on the grass to direct the mid-night peeing.

I sang out-of-tune-songs like "You are My Sunshine" "This Little Light of Mine" "ABCD -" Nonie's request)....and "50-Nifty-United States...."

Just to be sure that you're sure. I did sing each song out of tune... though I had them begging for encores.....

****

In the midst of all this, I paused

and realized I was so happy.

I took a deep breath of fresh, fresh air.

Then, I took a deep breath again.

I gazed at the stars and at the blinking lights of planes flying high above.

For a moment, I wondered where the planes were going. Ireland?? Maybe.

After a while, I couldn't hear much of anything.

Except the sounds of amazing children sleeping.

Once I knew all the tiny little children around me were asleep,

I whispered to them in the dark of the night:

"I am your Auntie K,

and, I will always have room in my tent for you."

What I Found.

In the living room tonight, Declan and Nonie sleep side by side.

They are camping out.

In doors.

It is summer.

Isn't this what kids do in the summer?

Sleep in different places, and giggle with each other while they feel special about sleeping in exciting and usually off-limits places?

At least, this is what my kids do in the summer.

Just for kicks I took their glowsticks from the freezer (which had been there since the concert the other night) and hung them to the light fixture above them for instant summertime ambience.

It is in the dim glow of fading light sticks, that I'm taking time to reassure my babies that I am with them while they fall asleep in this new and mysterious place.

I pause to think about how, in the future, there will be many new and mysterious places they choose to rest their heads - and I won't with them, to stand guard over them, 4 steps away.

Also, I am using the quiet time to

download my camera. It has been a while.

401 pics to be an exact count of how long the long while has been.

Without further ado, here is a sampling of what I found:

sunny sunflowers growing along the white picket fence - a sure sign that summer is here

at long last.

surfer girl brushing her teeth in front of her

favorite audience and biggest fan.

cousins sharing secrets at the seashore.

fathers standing guard.

little rascals getting herded for a group shot.

no comment.

the hubs, hiding from my lense -

oh I'll find you every time my dear.

the best we could do.

after a few seconds of jostling around, the youngest ended up at the bottom...
like a tiny grain of sand.

and I agree with the look on her face - it ain't fair.

hand holding.

a daughter's sparkle.

we weren't even playing charades.

fences in bloom. 02539.
hats with personality.

anniedeux.

running bases played by the adult relatives. with one token youngster thrown in the mix.

average age of runners? 36.9

in my mind I call this picture "life is a game".

1/2 a picture.

1 story.

high five for granny.

t-shirt competition.

summertime silhouettes.

practicing for his first day of school.

practicing for his first day at school.

jumping in at mile 4.99.

celebrating at mile 5.0.

A treasure trove of memories.

What I found.


oh and as if you didn't notice - a very persistent smudge on my camera lense
yup, I discovered that too.

Tight Lines.

When I was a little girl,

I set off on a fishing outing with my brothers and remember

Hearing someone call after us "Tight Lines!!! Hope you have Tight Lines..."

I can also remember the day, many years (decades even) later,

when I actually understood

what that Tight Lines Fish Wish meant...

When your line is tight...

it means...

you've got a bite.

PS: Happy Birthday Ginga, I love you.

On, Why We Relayed.

Three days ago, my family relayed.

Boy, did we relay.

And I'm happy to report, Nonie can relay with the best of them

We relayed for Stan and Nan, of course.

Two of the best of the best.

But, throughout the night, our hearts opened up. Our original tears for Stan and Nan, gave way to big, salty, stingy tears for Others.

Most, we'd never even met.

We relayed for all that we don't understand.

About cancer....

about life.

And, we relayed for the little boy

there in all the dusty and sunshine-filled corners of our world asking us to explain

that which we don't understand.

We relayed for friendship.

We relayed for those friends who don't have our matching shirt to morph them into our team.

And for those friends, who will wear the team shirt with oodles of pride if

only given the honor.

There is so much that we relayed for.

But as we flip through our pics from the memorable and emotional evening we realize that....

Above all,

we relayed for love.

And, we especially relayed for...

the mother-less children in the crowd

and the child-less mothers in heaven.

This is why we relayed.