La Dolce Vita: the sweet life with three sons

A Vacuuming Teen, A Winter Break Surprise, and the Story of William (in 7 quick takes)

2012-02-17T05:09:00.001-05:00

~1~ When Papa's grandfather arrived on Ellis Island from Slovakia in the late 1800's, he informed the officials that his name was Valent which, in English, is Valentine. They changed his name to William. The name stuck, and there has been a William in the family every generation since then. Papa is the second William, named after his grandfather.

~2~ If you give a teen a vacuum cleaner ... he will rock.

~3~ I have been aware for some time now that Nicholas is getting tall, but today he was standing next to me and I had to tilt my head up to look at him. Yikes.

~4~ Speaking of growing, guess who grew two inches overnight?

~5~ Five articles in nine days ... I am dain bread. I mean, brain dead.

~6~ War Horse is coming to the dollar theater. Have you seen it?

~7~ The boys have been off this week for a winter break. They don't know this, but this weekend I have plans for them: their closets, drawers, and desks are going to get a deep cleaning. This means going through (and trying on) clothes to see what fit and what doesn't, and going through every single thing they own and donating anything they don't need anymore. Should be fun, right? Right?

Mrs. Berenstain's expression will be my expression. Of that I am sure.

(7 quick takes is being hosted by Betty Beguiles who today talks about beauty and Conan the Barbarian. Check it out!)

Keeping Time

2012-02-16T07:56:00.008-05:00

As many of you know, I have an affinity for two things:

1. Dansko clogs (Hello?! Dansko? Do you KNOW how many times I've mentioned you on my blog? It seems you could reward a faithful customer with a pair ... red, patent colored ones would do if you need a suggestion. Think what a lovely blog post that would make.)

2. Watches. Besides my wedding ring, a watch is my jewelry of choice. I'm not picky ... sleek, classy, or chunky they are ALL wonderful. For example, I have this one, purchased from Island of Capri; then there is this one Joe brought back from Santa Barbara; and for my birthday my parents gave me a beautiful silver watch with a silver and leather band, which they had purchased on their cruise.

Dansko clogs and watches. I am not complicated at all.

Last night Papa arrived to spend a week with us. As always, he came with his power tools (projects!) and he came bearing gifts from my sister-in-law ... who knows me all too well.

The only thing is, now Papa keeps asking me for the time ;)

See? I'll Never Learn to Speak Southern

2012-02-15T06:56:00.009-05:00

Yesterday I wrote a heartfelt post about our first move to the Deep South in which I tried to convey the difficulty of those first years when I was trying to figure it all out and trying desperately to fit in.

I think I made my point better than I realized.

Last night I learned the expression I used yesterday is supposed to be smack-dab and NOT dab-smack.

I would say something right now, but what I'm thinking is not exclusively southern and it's definitely not lady-like.

The New Girl

2012-02-14T08:23:00.010-05:00

When my father retired from the military he decided to move our family smack-dab in the middle of the Deep South. I was just about to begin high school, and the combination of being a teenager (with all that angst) as well as being the "new girl" made my first two years Stateside very difficult.

I was painfully shy and awkward; we had just spent two wonderful years living in Italy, within the loving embrace of my Nonna, and now I was trying to figure out how my Italian-ness fit into our new life.

The first day of school I wore a beautiful blue wrap-around skirt; everyone else was wearing Jordache Jeans. In homeroom a big, black girl leaned over and asked if I were Eye-talian and how long did it take to drive to Italy. I didn't know how to answer her because I was too busy trying to figure out if she was pulling my leg (she wasn't). In an environment where best friends are formed in Kindergarten and social connections are woven through generations, I didn't quite fit in.

No, it wasn't an easy time, but slowly things improved. My mom bought me a pair of jeans, I made some friends, and there was even a boy on the bus who liked me. He was the one who gave me a copy of The Outsiders, and when I got to the part when Johnny dies and tears started streaming down my face he nodded, "I knew you would like it."

In early February of my sophomore year the Student Council did their Student Council thing and began selling Valentine carnations. For $1 you could purchase a red, pink, or white carnation which would be delivered with a personal message written on a pink heart.

On Valentine's day the deliveries started. I was in my fourth period Math class when the teacher came in carrying a fistful of pink carnations. She handed out three to some girls sitting in the front, then she walked to the back of the classroom and stopped in front of my desk. My heart began pounding. Oh my gosh, I was actually going to get a carnation.

But no, she didn't give me a carnation. She handed me the entire dozen.

Today I am still living in the Deep South. There have been many Valentine's Days since those early high school years, and while I remember the tears and insecurities of trying to figure it all out, it is the image of those bright, pink carnations that stand out most in my mind.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.

*P.S. It was the boy on the bus who gave me the dozen carnations.

Monday Ramblings

2012-02-13T08:25:00.005-05:00

~Yesterday I spent a long time sanding one chair, and then looked up and saw the other five lined up ready and waiting. So I got wise and threw myself at the mercy of my Dad who lovingly outfitted me with an electric, handheld sander with attachments. Ahhh ... a girl and her tools.

I LOVE having Sunday lunch over at my Mom and Dad's. Yesterday it was HOMEMADE tagliatelle (wide noodles) with HOMEMADE sauce, bruschetta, and HOMEMADE chocolate chip cookes. My Mom feeds me and my Dad gives me power tools ... it's a beautiful world.

~Every Monday night I have a "date" with the two older boys to watch Hawaii 5-0. It's on at 10 p.m., which means the big guy (Joe, who has to get up at an ungodly hour) and the little guy (Timothy, who needs his nine hours of sleep) are already in bed. So it's just me, Nicholas, and Jonathan taking in an action packed, car chasing, good guys vs. bad guys show. We now have our own lingo: uh-oh he's a runner ... book him Danno! ... 5-0 headquarters

The whole Whitney Houston thing: sad? Very. Am I surprised? No, not very.

Daria over at Coffee and Canticles held a book give-away last week and, wonder of wonders, I won and was able to select a book from an impressive selection list. I decided on The Pope and the CEO because it's written by a former Swiss Guard and, if you've ever been to Rome, the Swiss Guards are intriguing. The book came last Saturday, I love it, and I'll be posting about it soon.

That's it. Sorry for the rambling, but it's Monday and it's going to be a rambling kind of day. I can tell, so excuse me while I fortify with a cappuccino ...

One Down, Five to Go

2012-02-12T08:43:00.005-05:00

Shortly after moving into this house we built a separate, two car garage at the end of our driveway and converted the original garage into a rec room. When it was finished, I bought a large farm table but no chairs; I already had an assortment of chairs and a friend gave me some old ones she didn't want anymore. I went for the ecclectic look which worked great.

Until now. Since the chairs were old to begin with, over the years they have become even older which means now, when we sit, we risk life and limb.

Yesterday Joe brought down from the attic a set of six old kitchen chairs that we had been saving for the boys' first apartment -- nice chairs, except they were white and the paint was chipped and flaking.

So, on this cold, Sunday morning I am sanding and painting six chairs.

The color? Cracked Pepper (Valspar signature color from Lowes). One down, five to go.

And So It Begins

2012-02-11T05:32:00.011-05:00

three no. 2 pencils,
sharpened,
lined in a row.

and so it begins.

next to a wallet,
with i.d.,
and car keys.

and so it begins.

an admission ticket,
a reporting time,
to test what you know.

and so it begins.

a, b, c or d,
little pencil bubbles ...
stepping stones to your future.

and so it begins.

~from the files of very bad poetry by Bia

*to Nicholas, on the morning of his ACT

What I do When I am Doing Nothing ... in 7 quick takes

2012-02-10T04:00:00.002-05:00

In Italian there is a saying, e` dolce far niente, which translated loosely means how sweet it is to do nothing. The saying has absolutely nothing to do with idleness; rather, it's about pausing to live life to the fullest and appreciating the moment you are in, without conscious thought of yesterday or tomorrow.

In the hurricane of our busy lives, e` dolce far niente is about finding the eye of the storm, and letting the world go on without us. It's taking the time to linger over a morning cappuccino, abandoning a chore to go splash in a puddle, or taking a drive in the country and going where the road takes you.

Ironically, in doing nothing you're really doing something ... just not what life dictates.

So, in 7 quick takes, here is what I like to do when I am doing nothing.

E` Dolce Far Niente

~1~ Sip a cappuccino and read the newspaper in its entirety.

~2~ Study travel books.

~3~ Walk leisurely ... in the mountains, on a beach, or in the woods.

~4~ Linger over a meal.

~5~ Spend a rainy Saturday afternoon watching a movie marathon.

~6~ Enjoy a decadent dessert ... just because.

~7~ Sit in an outdoor cafe and people watch.

************

Now go visit Betty Beguiles for more quick takes ... she has a book coming out soon!

In Which We Survived Our Beach Photography Session

2012-02-09T05:03:00.002-05:00

The Entire Crew

Nonna and Nonno with their nine grandchildren

Our Boys

Rain.

2012-02-08T07:35:00.004-05:00

There is something about rain in art which appeals to me. To be sure, I like all kinds of art, and I am especially drawn to photography of old windows, doors and barns, but there is something about rain that hits the bullseye of my soul.

I suppose some people wouldn't understand this trait, and possibly assume I'm melancholy, but that's not so at all.

There is music in the rain. The drumming on a rooftop, the soft crackling as it falls on a pile of autumn leaves, the swish of car tires on wet streets, the plip-plop of raindrops on an umbrella.

Rain is a backdrop for color. The grey and clouds make red raincoats, yellow pansies, a candle in a window, or a blue gazebo in the town square appear vibrant and alive.

Source: thephobia.com via Maria on Pinterest

Rain softens the hard edges of city life, so the street lights and shop windows glow and beckon.

Source: stumbleupon.com via Maria on Pinterest

I especially love the juxtaposition of a raging storm outside, and the calmness and warmth inside. For me, the perfect weekend is a rainy one in which we are all home.

Source: wholesomescraps2.tumblr.com via Jessica on Pinterest

And there is something about rain that makes me reach for a book of poetry ...

Souls And Rain-Drops
~by Sidney Lanier

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
Then vanish, and die utterly.
One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.
One might not know that souls had place
Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.

Humbled

2012-02-06T21:01:00.008-05:00

The other day I had some errands to run so I made a list to maximize my time. Stops A and B on the way to school, pick up the boys, and then a quick stop C on the way home. Quick, efficient, and timely -- I could do this.

Stop A went off without a hitch, but Stop B was messing things up. Red lights, a closed lane, an accident. And if that wasn't enough, I was stuck behind an extremely slow driver who seemed to be heading in the same direction. Great, just great.

He drove 30 mph and kept tapping his brakes.

When he made a slow right turn exactly where I needed to turn, I groaned.

I was still stuck! Come on!

He went even slower as he tried to find what he was looking for, but finally he signaled and pulled into a parking space in front of the same store that was my Stop B.

In exasperation -- and to make a point -- I zoomed into the spot next to him, parked, and marched quickly into the store.

I was in there ten minutes, and when I came out the driver was just locking his car door.

I thought about this. I had parked, made my purchase, and was back in my car while the driver was just getting out of his. Sheesh. Talk about slow.

And just then I saw why, and it felt as if I had been sucker-punched.

The man had two artificial legs.

I watched him open the trunk of the car and pull out a walker. Slowly, laboriously, painfully he shuffled into that store.

Shame, humility, remorse ... I can't even narrow down what I felt to just one word. Needless to say, I never made it to Stop C. It just didn't seem important anymore.

In thinking back on that day I still have those feelings, but I am also overwhelmed with gratitude for a loving Father who wanted to teach me something in a way which was clear and succinct. No parables. No proverbs. No room for misinterpretation. Just a lesson that was gritty and very, very real.

A lesson which certainly hit home.

Sometimes Big Kids Want to Play, Too

2012-02-06T05:02:00.002-05:00

Nonno and Nonna returned from their cruise and came over to tell us all about it.

We also had a lot to tell them, and Timothy and Thomas were excited to show them the artwork they did yesterday. And because they wanted to show them the masking tape technique, I hauled out all the supplies again and let them do an actual demonstration.

Then, Nonno started hovering.

He picked up a paintbrush.

Here let me try something, he said. But the boys weren't having it.

He tried to give them some suggestions.

Nonno! they exclaimed, fiercely protecting their work.

Finally I gave him his OWN paintbrush and his OWN paper.

Nonno was happy.

Light in the Window, Nonno (2012)

International Relations

2012-02-05T07:35:00.021-05:00

The older boys have been at the University of Georgia in Athens, GA participating in a model United Nations event.

Last night I received this text from Nicholas:

We're still here ... we go back at 11. But, Richard and I got moved to specific people on the US Security Council. So far, North Korea has attacked South Korea with China's support and WWIII is imminent. We basically debate for like 3 hour stretches and pass written resolutions with the other 8 members of the Council.

(Nicholas' alter ego at the model UN)

Meanwhile, on the homefront Laura and I did an art project with our two little guys. We took water color paper, made a tree outline w/ masking tape, painted with watercolors, and once everything was dry we peeled off the masking tape.

How do I love thee? The bathroom is clean.

2012-02-04T09:45:00.004-05:00

My sister is coming today to spend the weekend with us. Because the painter has been in and out of our house for the past 10 days, Joe and I had to work furiously yesterday to put the guest bedroom back in order. We managed to get everything done except the guest bathroom, which is still missing a shower rod. No problem, I thought. Laura can use the guest bathroom for everything except showering, in which case she can use the boys' bathroom.

The boys' bathroom.

A mental war ensued: My sister loves me, she won't mind if things are less than perfect in there.

Then this: I love my sister and there is no way I can subject her to the horror that is the boys' bathroom.

I went to bed in a mental quandry.

This morning I got up at 6:40 a.m. to clean that darn bathroom.

Sisters: Ua the Blonde, Bia the Brunette

7 Quick Takes: Inspiration from Kipling

2012-02-03T05:04:00.004-05:00

~1~ What am I reading?
To Kill a Mockingbird ... is there anyone as noble as Atticus Finch?

~2~ Who is having a Super Bowl birthday this year?
See yesterday's post.

~3~ Where do we study?
The kitchen table, even though everyone has a desk. Note the cappuccino ... guess who was sitting there?

~4~ When will our new furniture arrive?
I don't know ... it's not looking good.

~5~ Why will there only be three of us here this weekend?
Nicholas and Jonathan are headed to Athens, GA for a model United Nations meeting (I like school sponsored field trips which require dress shirts and ties).

~6~ How long did it take our little guy to confess his sins during his First Reconcilation?
About two minutes. Tops. I concentrated on the top three things!

~7~ Who? What? Where? When? Why? How?
I keep six honest serving-men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.
~Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories (1902)

Betty Beguiles is sponsoring today's quick takes. Check her out, she has a book coming out next month.

The Pregnant Pause

2012-02-02T13:02:00.007-05:00

Lately I have been fascinated by the use of the caesura, a pause in a line of poetry or music which is used for a dramatic effect. A caesura is often used to introduce, or highlight, something that is to follow.

Recently someone in my Bible Study pointed out the caesura dividing the two stanzas of the Hail Mary. The first stanza ends with the words "blessed is the fruit of your womb"; hence, Mary is with child. In the silence of the caesura separating the first stanza from the second stanza (which begins with the words "Holy Mary, Mother of God") Mary has given birth. A lot happens in the silence of that pause.

Last week I gave a presentaion in which I pointed out one of my favorite illustrations of a caesura in art in Andrea della Robbia's masterpiece, "The Annunciation". This familiar scene has been reduced to the essentials in which everyone is waiting for Mary's reply. The angel, God, the cherubs, and even the wings of the dove are waiting in suspense for the free will decision of Mary. Her face is thoughtful; one hand rests on the passage from Isaiah (Behold, a virgin shall conceive ...), while her other hand rests on her heart, searching for God's will. This example of a caesura demonstrates the moment - the silent moment - just before Mary gives her fiat. And her words, not yet uttered, are inscribed on the base: You see before you the handmaid of the Lord, let it be done to me as you say.

The Annunciation, Andrea della Robbia
La Verna, Italy

There is so much about the caesura, that deliberate pause, which I can apply to my life. How about inserting a caesura before I am tempted to speak my mind? Or using it before I make an important decision? Or using one in prayer so I can hear what God has to say? I can even use the caesura as a way to begin, or end, my day.

Yes, there are lessons to be learned in a pause ... a silence that speaks volumes.

A Month of Birthdays

2012-02-01T18:44:00.004-05:00

February is my birthday month, and I am planning two specific things to celebrate:

1- Due to the constant interruptions and distractions that come with working from home, I have decided to have specific office hours in the hopes that I can be more focused and productive. During that time I will work on any writing assignment that is sent to my inbox, and I will also use that time to work on my book project (a project that I all too easily shelve when things come up).

2- I have set myself the goal of blogging every single day for the month of February. Why? For the discipline. Some days I will be prolific, and some days I won't. The point, for me, is to write something daily ... to be disciplined.

So, Happy Birthday to me.

Here's what we've been doing ...

2012-01-25T16:15:00.005-05:00

~purchased new master bedroom furniture (will arrive next month)

~moving old master bedroom furniture to guest bedroom

~guest bedroom furniture ... yard sale? consignment store?

~purchased bed, dresser, and nightstand for the little guy ... goodbye car bed

~having some painting done in kitchen, family room, guest bedroom, guest bathroom, & upstairs hallway

I like emptying a room of all furniture in order to paint, then finding different ways to change things up when everything gets put back. I like getting rid of clutter. I like rearranging furniture and artwork.

I embrace the chaos, dust, and displacement of today ...

for the something new of tomorrow.

Lord Farquaad, a Confession, an Angry Bird ... in 7 quick takes

2012-01-20T09:04:00.012-05:00

~1~ During a meeting at church to prepare for his first Reconciliation at the end of the month, I had the following conversation with our little guy:

"So, what kind of sins am I supposed to talk about?" he whispers.

"Well," I reply. "You could, for example, tell Father about calling Jonathan an idiot this morning."

He thinks about this a moment.

"Okay, but I think I will just say that I called Jonathan a bad word," he says. "Maybe I shouldn't say idiot."

~2~ In preparing a presentation on St. Francis and La Verna, my oldest son was giving me a crash course on how to use PowerPoint:

"Now, when you want to go to the next slide, just use the space bar," he explains.

"What if I need to go back a slide?" I ask.

"Just hit the 'P' button,'" he replies.

"Why 'P'? That seems odd," I say.

"Uhm, 'P' for previous?" and he looks at me like I'm from Mars.

~3~ A Nice Side Effect:

In my attempts to keep Christmas simple, I actually lost weight over the holidays. A definite first for me.`

~4~ A New Identity:

I recently got a haircut ... six inches gone with the clip of the scissors. When I got home and looked in the mirror I had one thought: Good Lord, I look like Lord Farquaad from Shrek.

~5~ Fixing an oversight:

My husband and I recently realized we have been remiss in the cultural education of our boys: we have never taken them to the Fox Theater in Atlanta to see a Broadway production! Bad, bad Mommy and Daddy. We'll be fixing this oversight in the near future.

~6~ Around a Fire

On New Year's Eve we used out new fire pit area for the first time. I don't know what it is about a fire, but we sat around that fire, bundled in blankets and eating S'mores, laughing and talking for over two hours. Joe also shared a special talent he has: the ability to make the funniest faces using only a flashlight. Make the Angy Birds face, Dad! is our new family motto.

~7~ Apples, and peanut butter, and granola ... Oh, My!

I've had this for lunch several times, and it's absolutely delicious; however, I tweaked the recipe a bit: instead of stacking the apples into a sandwich, I keep the slices flat and eat them with a fork and knife (not so messy this way). I also drizzle a little honey over everything.

Source: wholefoodsmarket.com via Maria on Pinterest

Now go visit Jen over at Conversion Diary. In February she will be speaking at an Apologetics Conference in Venice ... Florida, that is.

A Lesson from a Rock Star

2012-01-10T17:17:00.019-05:00

The other night I was watching an interview with Steven Tyler, lead singer for Aerosmith. Once upon a time (and not too long ago, either) I actually attended an Aerosmith concert, so it was interesting to hear what he had to say.

He talked about drugs, women, drugs, rock music, alcohol and, yes, drugs. He spoke about the many times he had a falling out with his children, his family, his bandmates. Then he spoke about forgiveness.

"The answer to everything in life, is forgiveness," he said. "Everything."

Everything? It got me thinking. What about love? Surely love could also be the answer to everything. But then I realized how even with those you love dearly, there can still be pain and hurt which can only be healed through forgiveness; in fact, it is the act of extending forgiveness, or of being the recipient of it, which actually leads the way to an even greater love.

God showed us this when he sent his only son to us ... a son who not only showed us how to love, but accepted death on a cross to show us how to forgive and be forgiven.

And as always when the topic of forgiveness comes up, I thought of Amanda.

Amanda and her family used to be our immediate neighbors. She was originally from England and, while she could be charming and witty, she also had a petty and vindictive side. I never saw her truly happy; rather, she always seemed to be in a battle with someone, whether it was the moving company who scratched her furniture, or the kids two houses down who scattered her pine straw when their soccer ball accidentally landed in her yard. Since we were both home during the day, she would often come over just to tell me about her latest imbroglio. I suppose it was only a matter of time before we were targeted.

One day the boys and some friends were playing in our yard when they abruptly came indoors. They were unusually quiet, so I knew something had happened. Evidently, Amanda had come over to tell them how she didn't appreciate them making fun of her and demanded that they stop.

Now, I had the windows opened and here's what the boys were doing: using an old video camera, they were holding pretend American Idol auditions in which they all took turns being Simon Cowell ... British accent and all.

I immediately called her, explained the misunderstanding, and assured her that they were not being disrespectful. They were being Simon Cowell! They were playing American Idol! She wasn't amused.

Flash forward a couple of months to Thanksgiving day when we had relatives visiting from Italy. It was around three in the afternoon, families were out walking off their dinners, and we decided to have a wiffle ball game in the cul-de-sac. Some neighbors from down the street even joined in. We were having such a wonderful time until Amanda stuck her head out the door and yelled for us all to take the game somewhere else because we were disturbing their meal.

We were a little taken aback at her rudeness (the street, after all, was public domain), and we were embarassed (nice impression for our relatives), but we obligingly moved the game to our backyard.

Eventually, we heard that they would soon be moving to New Jersey. A month before their departure, I saw Amanda sitting on her front steps and walked over to say hello. There was an awkward moment when she just stared at me ... and then, from out of the blue, she launched into a verbal attack the likes of which I have never experienced. She ranted against me, my husband, our boys, their school, our church ... everything. Then she stomped into her house before I had a chance to say a single word.

There are many kinds of tears, and over the next few days I think I shed most of them: tears of frustration because I didn't have a chance to defend myself; tears of anger for some of the things she said about my family; tears of disbelief because, really, how dare she?; and tears of remorse because I almost hated her and here it was Holy Week and my heart was not in a good place.

But something happened Easter Sunday morning. Sitting in our family room watching the boys dig into their Easter baskets, and later during Mass, I felt the gift of forgiveness. Suddenly, it didn't even matter anymore who was wrong or right, only that forgiveness was the means to make me feel whole again.

The next day I saw Amanda walk out the front door, retrieve her mail from the mailbox, and go back inside her house. I immediately walked over. Truthfully, I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to say, but I knew that the first step on that road to forgiveness - and ultimately to healing - would have to come from me.

I rang her doorbell and waited.

And waited.

Nothing. To this day I still cringe at how that made me feel, but watching Steven Tyler's interview, with his litany of past mistakes, I was reminded how life is sometimes -- very often, in fact -- messy. But for him, forgiveness was the answer, and I think he might be right. At the very least, forgiveness is the beginning of something which can only lead to wonderful things.

I really wished Amanda had answered her door.

A Year in Review: The Links Edition

2012-01-02T08:51:00.005-05:00

~1~ Funniest Parenting Moment: When boys smell like dogs.

Boys ... About as Uncomplicated as You Can Get

~2~ Favorite Parenting Moment: Sometimes the answers aren't always easy.

In Which We Heard, But Didn't Listen

~3~ Favorite Spiritual Post: In which I give a presentation on free will and Lent.

The Freedom in Lent

~4~ Best Italian Post: Three cheers for the mailman.

Il Postino

~5~ Favorite Sister story: The rebellion of Sr. Gaudiosa.

A Nuns' Rebellion

~6~ Post that received the most comments: In which I asked, and you answered.

In Which You Have all the Answers

~7~ Best Stupid Moment: In which I find something I donated in an antique shop.

Oh What a Stupid I Am

~~8~ Funniest photo/post of 2012: A PG moment in a G-rated blog.

This really is a G-rated blog.

Don't Forget the Ranch Dressing

2011-12-24T21:31:00.007-05:00

Dear Santa,

I thought you might be tired of cookies, so I made you a Nutella sandwich. I also thought you would like some lemonade instead of milk. The carrots are for the reindeer, and this year I added some Ranch dressing because I heard on the history channel that reindeer like Ranch dressing.

Merry Christmas!

Love,
Timothy

P.S. Thank you for sending me an elf this year. He had a lot of fun, as you can see.

Ixnay on Hamburger Helper

2011-12-21T18:02:00.005-05:00

Once upon a time, when my husband and I were newlyweds and I was still learning my way around a kitchen, I fixed Hamburger Helper for dinner.

That was in 1985.

Tonight, 26 years later, something came over me and I fixed two boxes of Hamburger Helper for dinner.

Everyone hated it.

They hated the smell, the taste, the consistency. They thought it tasted fake.

Do people really eat this stuff? they asked.

Then the boys sang my praises. They were grateful for grilled panini, homemade tortellini, tuna spaghetti, minestrone ... the list went on.

And as I basked in the glow of their compliments, I was thinking that I should have fixed Hamburger Helper for them a long time ago.

Walking in Torre Annunziata outside of Naples, Italy
Summer 2010

Finding God in Target

2011-12-14T05:52:00.011-05:00

Yesterday morning I dropped my husband off at the airport. I then had a small errand to do at a store that didn't open until 10, and since it didn't make sense to go all the way home only to come back out later, I had some time to kill. I thought about going to morning Mass, but again, it was too early. But hey! What do you know? Target was open.

Thirty minutes later an elderly black woman was ringing me up at the register.

"Wait!" she said as I pulled out my credit card. "I have a $5 dollar coupon which will give you some extra savings.

"Oh my," I replied. "Thank you! My husband will love you."

She laughed.

"Love is what it's all about," she said as she handed me my bag. "You know ... I get a Bible verse sent to my phone every day."

"What was today's verse?" I asked.

She hadn't checked yet. There was no one behind me in line, so I put down my bag and she pulled out her purse. We huddled over her phone.

Truthfully, I don't remember the specific verse, but somehow I felt we were living it.

Someone came up to the line, so I picked up my bag to leave.

"Merry Christmas and God bless," we said in unison and on cue, which had us both smiling.

As I walked out of the store I glanced at my watch. If I hurried, I would make it to morning Mass ... it seemed like the perfect thing to do.

Cortona, Italy

Christmas Inflatables ... Art or Not?

2011-12-09T15:57:00.013-05:00

I am a romantic at heart, so for me Christmas is ...

a snowy mountain cabin nestled in the forest,
the shop windows in mid-town Manhatten,
midnight Mass in a small chapel nestled in the Alps,
and window wreaths and candle lights.

I'm all about this ...

(our house Christmas 2008 ... and yes, Virginia, it does occasionally snow in Georgia)

and not so much this.

Imagine my surprise when several years ago the boys asked why we couldn't get a giant Santa for our front yard. And not just any Santa ... a GIANT Santa ... with moving parts! And a Santa in a snow globe would be even better!

After I stopped hyperventilating I resorted to stall tactics. We'll see and Let me think about it held them off for several years.

Then one December, older and wiser, they brought up the subject again and would not let it go. They begged, they pleaded, they pointed out all the OTHER houses which had fun holiday inflatables. They were making me feel like the Grinch.

In exasperation I finally laid it on the line, No inflatables ... they're tacky!

Unfortunately I made this pronouncement in the presence of my entire family, which resulted in a great deal of teasing. I basically ignored them.

On Christmas Day everyone gathered at our house for lunch. There was a lot of commotion. In hindsight I now realize there seemed to be some sneaking around and that some people were grinning like idiots (most notably my brother-in-law), but at the time I had no idea that anything was going down. So, when I was called outside to the front yard to come and see something, I went.

And THIS was in my FRONT yard.

Everyone was laughing so hard that neighbors poked their heads out to see what was going on.

Okay, okay. The joke was on me. The festive Christmas penguins on a bright blue sled didn't exactly go with my window wreaths, but I had to agree they were pretty darn cute.

Now, I'm sure you're dying to know if the Christmas penguins have graced our yard in the years since.

Look. I'm not a total Grinch. OF COURSE we put up our inflatable penguins ...

only they're in the backyard.

Advent Wreath 2011 (in 7 easy steps)

2011-12-08T05:41:00.002-05:00

One of my personal traditions this time of year is to come up with a unique Advent wreath. This year I was inspired by two things: a piece of driftwood I found on the beach in Hilton Head over Thanksgiving, and the desire to incorporate some artwork into the wreath. And just so you know, not all my creations are wreath-shaped and I rarely use purple and pink candles.

THE SUPPLIES:

~a piece of wood or driftwood

~4 pillar candles and a decorative angel, or cross, or even a 5th candle (I used an angel)

~4 lengths of ribbon (three purple, one pink)

~length of burlap garland

~assorted greenery

~old Christmas cards

~inexpensive frames

THE ASSEMBLY IN SEVEN EASY STEPS:

~1~ Wrap a length of ribbon around each of the pillar candles so you have three purple and one pink.

~2~ Place candles down the length of the wood, with the decorative angel in the middle.

~3~ Add greenery

~4~ Weave burlap ribbon around the greenery and candles.

~5~ Cut out scenes of Advent from old Christmas cards (I used scenes depicting the Wise Men, the Shepherds, Mary and Joseph's journey to Bethlehem, the Angels singing Gloria and, most importantly, the Nativity).

~6~ Place Advent scenes in small frames (I purchased mine from a craft store).

~7~ Stand the frames in front of each pillar, with the framed nativity scene in front of the angel.

THE RESULT:

THE SYMBOLISM BEHIND AN ADVENT WREATH:

evergreens = everlasting life
holly = crown of thorns
pine cones/nuts/pods = life and resurrection
four candles = four weeks of Advent
color purple = prayer, penance, preparatory sacrifices, royalty
color pink = rejoicing
circle (from a wreath; I used a length of wood instead) = eternity of God; God's never ending love
wood = the manger; the cross
Progressive lighting of candles = expection and hope surrounding Christ's birth

P.S. You can see some of my past Advent wreaths here and here.

*FOR MORE FUN IN SEVENS, VISIT JEN OVER AT CONVERSION DIARY FOR 7 QUICK TAKES FRIDAY.

Grinch Props

2011-12-07T19:25:00.002-05:00

Getting ready to watch the Grinch ...

Can I bottle his innocence?

2011-12-06T12:54:00.004-05:00

Last week our little guy was getting his flu shot when Plop! his tooth fell out. I'm not sure if the two were related, but there you have it.

The next morning he came downstairs and showed me what the Tooth Fairy left under his pillow.

"Wow! A two dollar bill!" I said. "The Tooth Fairy is very generous!"

(I ALWAYS compliment the Tooth Fairy ... and the Easter Bunny ... AND Santa.)

"Tell me, though," I continued. "Did you hear anything during the night?"

(For some reason, I always want to know these things.)

"No, I didn't see anything," he admitted. "But I did hear wings flapping!"

Simplifying Christmas

2011-12-04T18:36:00.012-05:00

Last Christmas, around mid-December, I got sick.

For the first time in my life I was having stomach/digestive problems, and the symptoms became so bothersome that, on the day after Christmas, I went to my doctor. A week later I returned for blood tests, an abdomen scan and a referral to a gastroenterologist, but nothing definitive was discovered.

"Maria," said my doctor finally. "I just think your body is out of whack."

I remember sitting there and just letting her words sink in. Could it be this simple? I thought back to the past couple of weeks in which I had hosted two dinner parties for 30-35 people; decorated every room in the house; set up three Christmas trees; shopped, wrapped, and mailed packages; cooked, baked, and entertained house guests. I had been busy, sure, but it was fun! I was organized! I had felt on top of things.

But my doctor's words forced me to be honest with myself, and the truth was I fell into an exhausted heap every evening, had problems dragging myself out of bed in the morning, ate on the run (and ate badly), prayed on the run (and prayed badly), and totally neglected my exercise routine.

My doctor was right. So I made some immediate changes, but the damage was such that it took a good three months before I felt like my normal self.

I learned my lesson, and I was determined not to go to that place again.

So this past Thanksgiving I did a lot of soul searching. I asked myself some hard questions. I thought of ways I could create a Little House on the Prairie Christmas instead of a Biltmore one. I thought about what I wanted the spirit of our home to feel like this Advent season.

And because I work better with a plan, I came up with one.

Simplifying Christmas

~Bring the decor "home" Is all this decorating for our benefit, or for others? The question got me thinking. So this year we are decorating in ways that are meaningful to our family. Inside, we will focus our decorating only in the family room/kitchen. This is the heart of our home. This is where we gather. This is where we pray, and laugh, and eat. This is where we will set up our Christmas tree.

Outside, the window wreaths and candles will go up, only because Joe and I discovered that the boys said this one of their favorite things about Christmas. They love coming home after dark to see the windows lit up, and we love it that this memory has already taken hold in their hearts.

~Decorate with purpose In bringing the decor "home", I also wanted it to reflect our faith. So the first thing we did was set up an Advent wreath to help us mirror the journey of the Magi as they followed the star, of Mary and Joseph as they traveled to Bethlehem, and of the shepherds as they left their fields to visit the Christ Child. Then, although I have many nativities, we are setting up only one. We will gather around it for nighttime prayers and, on Christmas Eve, we will read the story of the nativity and sing Silent Night.

~Music with meaning Secular songs are fine (who doesn't love Snoopy and the Red Baron or a round robin of Jingle Bells?), but I will be more conscious of playing sacred carols/hymns (especially at home) and of learning the stories behind some of them. For example, did you know the story behind this beloved carol?

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve in 1818, in a tiny village in the Austrian Alps, a Catholic priest named Joseph Mohr wrote some heartwarming words that he was hoping to use during the midnight Mass. Since the church pipe organ was broken and couldn’t be repaired in time, the church organist Franz Gruber wrote a simple tune, thereby setting Mohr’s words to music for a tenor, a bass, and two guitars. That very evening during midnight Mass, Silent Night was heard for the first time. It wasn’t until 1850 – almost 30 years later – that the poet and composer even knew that their song had traveled out of their remote village and that Silent Night had become one of the most beloved Christmas carols ever written.

~Food for thought Which for me, means no baking. What? No baking? Believe me, we receive plenty of goodies from our neighbors, and this time of year cookies, fudge bars, and Panettone will find a way into our home. So instead of baking, I will cook healthy, hearty meals. Stews, soups, homemade breads ... comfort foods which satisfy, relax, and make our house smell like a home.

~Shop from home Online shopping will keep me from going to a store during lunchtime or to the mall on weekends. It's hard to be spiritually focused when you're elbowing your way through a crowd, fighting traffic, or being bombarded with commercialism.

~Charity in action As a family, we will look for ways to give of ourselves ... both in big ways (cleaning out our closets and donating items to Catholic Social Services, working at the Soup Kitchen, visiting a family in need) and in small ones (bringing goodies to the workers at tree lots on Christmas Eve, leaving an extra tip for a harried waiter, offering the UPS man a cup of hot chocolate).

And this, quite simply, is our plan for celebrating the holidays.

We're keeping it simple.

We're making it sacred.

Once upon a time there was a stranger ...

2011-11-10T21:21:00.006-05:00

Dear ~~~ Family,

You don’t know me and we have never met. But allow me to tell you a story …

Three years ago I drove to Columbia, SC to attend my sister’s baby shower. With me was my youngest son, who was four years old at the time.

When we left my sister’s to return home, an SUV of teens coming back from the lake entered a traffic circle at high speed and plowed into our van. The impact was shocking, and when the two vehicles finally came to a rest there were tire marks, debris, and broken glass spread over two lanes.

While my son and I were shaken, neither we nor the occupants of the SUV were injured.

When I dialed 911 and the operator requested the location, I was at a total loss; my sister’s family had recently moved to this area, and I didn’t even know the name of the street I was on. Suddenly, a driver pulled up behind me, parked, and got out of the car to see if we were okay. I handed him my cell phone, and he gave the operator all the information. Afterwards, he picked up car parts from the middle of the street (a bumper, a side view mirror, two hubcaps), and before I could thank him for his help he drove off.

It was a very hot afternoon, and as my son and I stood in the shade waiting for the police, this same man returned. He said he had noticed from our license plate that we were from out of state and thought that we could probably use this … and he handed me a bag with inside several juice boxes, some Oreo cookies, and two Diet Cokes.

Juices boxes, Oreo cookies, Diet Cokes … and just like that I was reminded of how, in spite of bad things that happen, there is also such goodness in this world.

I later learned his name was Chaz, and over the years I would tell this story to demonstrate the tremendous love, healing and power that can be found in reaching out to a stranger.

No, you don’t know me and we have never met. But once upon a time I briefly met Chaz, and although I heard today that he no longer is with us on this earth, please know that he will forever be in corner of my heart where cherished memories are stored.

God bless,
Maria

*I will be mailing this letter today to Chaz' family.

An Explosion of Color

2011-11-08T16:30:00.002-05:00

This is what I'm cooking.

Where a Bishop Walks

2011-11-05T12:51:00.008-04:00

There is a saying my Nonna used to quote: pulire dove cammina il vescovo (to clean where the bishop walks). It's a saying from the days when a priest visited parishioners in their homes, thus warranting a serious house cleaning in anticipation of their visit; the level of cleaning, however, was directly related to the type of priest who was visiting.

For example, if the parish priest were coming a deep cleaning ensued. The priest, who was responsible for the spiritual well-being of his parishioners, felt it his duty to poke around and make sure everything was good. So, homes were buffed, shined, mopped, and dusted because a clean home reflected a clean soul.

If, on the other hand a bishop were to visit, then cleaning would be more cursory in nature. A bishop's importance meant that his visit would be short, he would sit in the main room, and he was above poking around; basically, you cleaned only where the bishop would go . . . no deep cleaning involved.

Pulire dove cammina il vescovo, then, is a tongue-in-cheek reminder to do only what is necessary. And sometimes that's more than enough.

So, why am I telling you this today?

Because this morning I cleaned our house as if a bishop were coming, which means that, if you visit me next week, don't look too hard or poke around too much.

Just walk a bishop's walk.

7 quick takes: seeing red, the color orange, and my husband makes me happy

2011-11-04T05:56:00.006-04:00

~1~ SEEING RED ...
one rusty bistro set + two coats of fire engine red spray paint = pop of color in the back yard.

~2~ AND SPEAKING OF COLOR ...
nothing says autumn like the color orange.

~3~ HEAVEN ON EARTH ...
would you believe Home Depot or Lowes? I can wander the aisles for hours looking at hinges, door knobs, paint colors, or kitchen tiles. Really, I'd rather go to either of those places than the mall. And don't ask me to choose, I like them both.

~4~ BLEACH STORY ...
Last Saturday I was standing at the top of the stairs holding a bottle of bleach. Somehow the bottle slipped from my hands, and it bounced end over end down eighteen steps while I watched in horror. Halfway down the top burst open, and bleach splashed on the steps, walls, railings and, when it landed at the bottom, on the oriental rug by the front door and the silk curtains in the dining room. Oh, the mess. Oh, the fumes!

~5~ HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW ...
or, in other words ... to cut or not to cut? That is the question.

~6~ MUSIC TO MY EARS ...
"You know," said my husband one morning at breakfast. "In about a year I should have enough frequent flyer miles for us all to go to Italy again."

~7~ AND SPEAKING OF ITALY ...
this iconic photo makes me smile.

American Girl in Italy

Thanks, Jen, for hosting. You can visit her at Conversion Diary where you can read about reusable toilet paper. What???!!!

The Rules for Being Sick

2011-11-03T03:08:00.001-04:00

There are rules? For being sick?

With my boys, the answer is yes.

When the school nurse called me for the upteenth time last week about Timothy "not feeling too good", I knew it was time to lay down the law with our little guy because, having gone through this with his two older brothers, I now know when I'm being played.

So, unless you

-are vomitting,
-have a fever,
-or experiencing diarrhea ...

Mom WILL NOT come pick you up from school.

See? There really are rules for being sick.

The Sugar Bowl

2011-11-02T07:52:00.001-04:00

Mrs. Castellucci came to visit her son Anthony, who lived with a female roommate, Maria.

During the course of the meal, his mother couldn't help but notice how pretty Anthony's roommate was. As she watched the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Anthony and Maria than met the eye.

“Mamma, I know what you must be thinking,” Anthony volunteered. “But I can assure you, Maria and I are just roommates.”

About a week later, Maria came to Anthony and said, “Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the silver sugar bowl. You don't suppose she took it, do you?”

So Anthony sat down and wrote his mother an email.

Cara Mamma,
I'm not saying that you did take the sugar bowl from my house, and I'm not saying that you did not take it. But the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love, Anthony

Several days later, Anthony received a response from his Mamma.

Dear Son,
I'm not saying that you do sleep with Maria, and I'm not saying that you do not sleep with her. But the fact remains that if she were sleeping in her OWN bed, she would have found the sugar bowl by now.
Love, Mamma

*thanks, Cathy M., for sending this to me!

Do Saints Wear Sneakers?

2011-11-01T11:44:00.017-04:00

When we vacationed in Italy a few years ago, one of the highlights of our stay in Tuscany included a visit to La Verna, a Franciscan Monastery nestled in the forest at the top of a high mountain. This monastery was where St. Francis of Assisi traveled for spiritual rest and discernment, and it is there that he received the stigmata.

Displayed in the main basilica is St Francis' robe, and I can't even begin to describe how emotional this was for all of us.

Outside, and down a steep flight of stone steps, is the cave where St. Francis slept. Cold, damp and dark, the cave contains a stone slab bed with a small depression on one end where St. Francis rested his head.

It is a holy place, so a chain prevents visitors from venturing too close.

And here, in this precise spot, is where Jonathan chose to leave evidence of his visit.

In his eagerness to see where St. Francis slept, Jonathan jumped over the chain to get a better look. After we grabbed him and hauled him back over, we stared in collective disbelief at the distinct footprint of a sneaker he had left in the damp earth near St. Francis' bed.

What to do? We couldn't reach far enough over the chain to brush out the footprint, we couldn't step over because we would leave even more footprints, and we didn't feel it would be right to get mad at our son in front of St. Francis. So, with a heartfelt prayer/apology to St. Francis, we left things as they were.

Which means Jonathan's footprint may still be there today.

Where's the Candy?

2011-10-31T09:29:00.011-04:00

Exactly one month ago our membership at Sam's Club was expiring, so Joe and I went one last time to stock up. After a serious discussion, we decided to go ahead and purchase two bags of candy ... each one weighing over five pounds. The plan was to simply hide the candy until Halloween.

So, over ten pounds of candy was secretly stashed in a galavanized tin on a high shelf in the laundry room.

The only problem with hiding the candy was that I knew where it was. So, yes, one rainy day I was cleaning the house and an image of a box of DOTS popped into my mind. I was cleaning toilets, I was making beds, I was making dinner ... I deserved a treat!

So, I climbed on a kitchen stool and poked a teeny, tiny hole in one corner of the bag. The hole was big enough to pull out a box of DOTS ... and a tootsie roll, and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, and an Almond Joy.

And because I'm smart, I hid the wrappers. No clues left behind.

Then, this past past Saturday I pull down the tin only to discover this ...

Over ten pounds of candy down to five. EVERYONE (with the exception of sweet, innocent Timothy) was guilty. Next Halloween we're purchasing candy one hour prior to trick-or-treating.

Next year, someone please remind me.

P.S. There's more ...

1. Want to know what NOT to eat for Halloween? Click here.

2. Our favorite Halloween costume? Mona Lisa and Leonardo DaVinci

Shaggy and Velma,
Mona Lisa, Da Vinci.
We are all adults?

Stay Tuned ...

2011-10-30T20:12:00.002-04:00

What's up this week?

MONDAY: Just in time for Halloween ... an empty bag of candy

TUESDAY: Recognizing Saints

WEDNESDAY: A "Naughty" Italian Joke

THURSDAY: Vomit, Fever, Diarrhea ... You are NOT sick

FRIDAY: A Bleach story, Heaven on Earth, and Seeing Red ... in 7 Quick Takes

SATURDAY: A Bishop's Walk

SUNDAY: Before and After ... The Story of a Wardrobe

...and kindle in them the fire of your love.

2011-10-25T15:47:00.008-04:00

Dear Jonathan,

For your Confirmation, we wanted to give you seven books representing the Gifts of the Holy Spirit. As you read these books, pray that the Holy Spirit will reveal his gifts so they will help you to grow in your faith.

1. The Gift of Wisdom gives us the desire for the things of God.

2. The Gift of Understanding enables us to know more clearly the mysteries of faith.

3. The Gift of Counsel helps us to see the difference between right and wrong.

4. The Gift of Fortitude strengthens us to do the will of God in all things.

5. The Gift of Knowledge enables us to know oneself and to know God.

6. The Gift of Piety gives us a deep respect for God and for the Church.

7. The Gift of Fear of the Lord enables us to recognize an all powerful God.

Be a gracious receiver of these gifts! St. Teresa of Avila said, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours; yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion is to look out to the earth; yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good; and your are the hands by which He is to bless us now.”

Jonathan, allow the Holy Spirit to work in you and watch in amazement as God works through you, with you, and in you.

Bacioni,
Mom and Dad
10-24-11

Jonathan Peter
Confirmed in Christ
10-24-11

When Nicholas was confirmed two years ago we presented him with seven literary classics, each one representing a gift of the Holy Spirit. This would not have worked with Jonathan since he would rather play basketball than read. In the end we looked for sports books, and instead of assigning each one with a gift of the Holy Spirit, he has to look for the gift as he reads. He took Glory Road to school this morning ... I think this just might work!

Jonathan's Books

Brian's Song (William Blinn)
Glory Road (Coach Don Haskins)
Unbroken (Laura Hillenbrand)
Through My Eyes (Tim Tebow)
Champions of Faith: Catholic Sports Heroes Tell Their Stories (Thomas O'Toole)
Holy Bible (w/ Jonathan's name engraved on the front)

*we are still looking for book #7 ... any suggestions?

Jonathan, Confirmation Candidate; Nicholas, altar server for Confirmation Mass; Timothy, baby brother

Thanks Aunt Laura and Uncle Patrick for being such great Confirmation Sponsors. And Patrick ... you were the youngest Knight by far!!!!

After Mass, cake and presents at home.

Potty Words Make My Wednesday

2011-10-19T14:11:00.015-04:00

A seven year old's joke sets the tone for my day ...

"Mom, how do you spell Mississippi?" asks Timothy, as we are driving to school.

"Let's see, M-i-s-s-i-p-p ..." I begin, only to be interrupted.

"Ha! Ha! You said a potty word. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughs Timothy. And he laughs and laughs and laughs.

Apparently I was set up.

He is still laughing when he hops out of the van; on the other hand, I do not laugh because I am too busy mentally preparing myself for a trip to Toys R Us.

Now, before I continue let me just say right here and now that Toys R Us is linked up there with WalMart and Sam's Club in my List of Stores I Absolutely Will Not Enter Unless I Absolutely Have To. NOTHING ever goes well when I enter any of these stores.

This time, however, I survive. I waltz in, find the perfect gift for my two year old nephew, and waltz out. The entire shopping experience takes 10 minutes.

As I am driving away I am congratulating myself. I am even giddy because I have conquered Toys R Us. I think back on Timothy's joke and laugh. I laugh and I laugh.

Then my Mom happens to call, and during the course of the conversation I realize I had purchased a gift for the WRONG NEPHEW!!!!

So, like something out of a nightmare, I drive back to Toys R Us, wait 15 minutes in line to return the gifts, look for a gift for a FOUR YEAR OLD instead of one for a two year old, and then stand in line for ten minutes to purchase the items. I really, really don't like that store; furthermore, they don't even know how to spell.

Things continue to go downhill.

Back at home I make the final arrangements for a beach photo for our Thanksgiving family reunion in Hilton Head. Photographer, date, time, exact beach location ... it's all set up. I confirm everything with the photographer, and just as I am congratulating myself on a job well done it hits me: I just made arrangements to have a photo taken AT THE BEACH.

THE BEACH! What was I thinking? This is a cruel joke because EVERYONE knows how my hair is at the beach. EVERYONE! It's a family joke! Evidently my role on this earth is to make everyone in my family look good. I do all the arranging AND I get to look bad. Great. Just Great.

That's it. I know just what I need ...

"How do you spell cappuccino?" I ask myself, as I turn on the espresso machine.

"Let's see, C-a-p-p ..." and I laugh and laugh.

The Sounds of Saturday

2011-10-15T11:40:00.014-04:00

As I type this I am listening to sounds riding piggyback on the breeze coming through our open kitchen window. The drone of our neighbor's weed eater, the rasping of a rake, and the sputter of a lawn mower are some of the busy sounds I associate with Saturday morning. After a week in which houses are vacant for most of the day, these are the sounds of a neighborhood coming to life.

On Saturday, yards are played in, garages are tinkered in, and homes are lived in.

I always thought of Saturday as making its own kind of music, and in our family it always began in the kitchen with pots rattling and dishes clinking . . . noises which meant our mother was preparing a delicious home cooked breakfast. Apple pancakes sprinkled with cinnamon, waffles dripping with syrup, or homemade raisin bread with honey butter beckoned us to the kitchen, and it was a good way to wake up.

Of course, all that nourishment and comfort food were meant to prepare us for tackling our Saturday Morning Chores, so after breakfast the sounds of industry could be heard in the snapping sheets hanging on the line, the whirring vacuum cleaner, the whispering dust cloth, the swishing washing machine, and even the pounding hammer coming from my father's workbench.

Lunchtime marked the beginning of the second half of our Saturday, a long, glorious afternoon in which we were free to do whatever we wanted. It was a quiet time - peaceful - and even the sounds changed. The air conditioner humming, pages rustling in a book, and a football game droning in the background were softer noises which contrasted starkly with the sounds from earlier in the day. It was a time for napping, or cutting out paper dolls, or curling up with a good book.

Today, as I type this while sitting by an open kitchen window, I realize our Saturday routine hasn't changed very much. Right now Joe and Papa are working in the garage building two Adirondack chairs for our backyard, and I can hear drilling, hammering, and sawing. The older boys are cleaning their room and Timothy is picking up his legos. The sheets have been changed, the dryer has just buzzed, and as soon as I fold the clothes I'll start preparing lunch.

Which means Saturday afternoon is just around the corner . . . and I like the sound of that very, very much.

Italian 101: The Art of the Interrupting

2011-10-12T23:16:00.005-04:00

Recently we attended a party at my parents’ house. It was a large gathering of family and friends, and with so many Italians present conversation was both loud and all over the place.

At one point I happened to glance over at my eldest son who was sitting (trapped?) between two Italian Nonne, each of whom asked him question after question between pauses in their own conversation. He had a dazed look on his face.

Uh-oh.

I remembered when I first introduced my husband (we were engaged at the time) to our big Italian community. Complete strangers grabbed him and kissed him; women in aprons shoved heaping plates of food in his direction; men refilled his wine glass before it was even emptied; and everyone fired questions at him so quickly he didn’t have time to answer any of them. He basically ate and nodded. He later confided to me he had wanted to participate in the conversation, but no one stopped talking long enough for him to say anything.

My poor husband. He comes from a polite family in which there are few interruptions and voice levels are moderate, so it’s no wonder he was totally unprepared for my Italian family where conversations overlap, interruptions are the norm, voices get louder and louder, and chaos can reign supreme.

And now, years later, the same thing was happening to my poor son. I knew it was time for a lesson on the art of interrupting, which is crucial in Italian conversation.

I first explained to him the importance of being vigilant for pauses. Even if it may seem as if there is no cessation in speech, there are in fact moments to speak such as when someone takes a sip of wine or takes a bite of food. Seize these opportunities to jump in the conversation, but be quick because other people will also be looking for them.

I also told him how it’s impossible to address the entire group; instead, address the person sitting next to you. Talk fast, though, so they can’t interrupt.

I then pointed out the necessity of going with the flow. With so many people talking at the same time, shifts in the conversation occur at breakneck speed. One minute the topic might be the recipe for Nonna’s minestrone, but the next it’s natural childbirth. Transitions often don’t make sense, and that’s okay.

Finally, I assured him, when all else fails do what a lot of the men in the family do: when you can’t get a word in edgewise . . . sit back, listen and enjoy the show.

You’ll have the best seat in the house.

I don't know what's more funny ...

2011-10-09T20:19:00.006-04:00

(A) That these flag football plays were given to our second grader to learn.

(B) Or that our son took one look at all the X's and O's and said they looked like treasure maps.

Shopping 101

2011-09-26T09:48:00.006-04:00

*Note: Everything I am thinking appears in italics.

Last Friday our eldest son pulled out a pair of jeans for the first time since last winter with the intention of wearing them on a field trip with his AP Environmental class. The jeans were at least two inches too short.

A few days earlier he had pulled out a dress shirt, tie and khakis, the standard uniform for a school Mass. The shirt sleeves were at least two inches too short.

Please, please, not another shopping trip.

Most of the time I am used to the fact that I am surrounded by boys; stinky clothes, footballs in the house, mind boggling appetites, toilet seats, caveman tendencies . . . all these things I take in stride. But it always takes a shopping trip to remind me that, yes, I am surrounded by boys and that, yes, Purgatory does exist.

"Shopping? Today?! But that's going to ruin my entire Saturday!" moans Nicholas, who would rather be drawn and quartered than go shopping.

Listen here buddy, ol' pal . . . it's no picnic for me, either.

We go to Kohl's where I leave him in the men's section to look for a pair of jeans. Fifteen minutes later I find him wandering aimlessly. According to him, there were too many selections and he didn't see anything he liked. A wall of jeans, and he finds nothing.

Isn't shopping an inherent skill? He must be missing a gene (ha! a pun!), or something. I mean, really, who needs to be taught how to shop? Well, obviously my son. Shopping 101 ... let the class begin.

We find a pair of jeans and two dress shirts but, just to be sure, I insist he step into the torture chamber known as the dressing room. He is grumbling the entire time; according to him, it's a lot smarter to try everything on at home and just return anything that doesn't fit.

Smarter for me to get this done right here and now because I'm not coming back with you. Ever.

He actually likes picking out two ties and is even a little adventurous in his selections. Progress?

A cute 17-year old girl is at the register.

"Wow, you must have a lot of nice places to go," she says to Nicholas, while folding his shirts and coordinating ties.

Nicholas laughs and says it's just a wardrobe update. She asks what school he goes to, what grade he's in, they talk about the friends they have in common . . . yadda, yadda, yadda.

When we walk out of the store Nicholas is grinning; in fact, he's happy. An hour and a half of shopping, and he's happy?

Shopping 101 . . . CLASS CANCELLED.

I don't think I'll be needed anymore.

Page 109: Girls

And He Comes Bearing Gifts (a 7 quick takes post)

2011-09-23T08:28:00.011-04:00

Oh where, oh where have I been?

Not here, obviously. I've been neglecting this little space, and I've missed it. And you.

But here, in 7 quick takes, I'll bring you up to speed what has been going on around here ...

~1~ Monday: Joe left for California. While I don't mind that he has to travel occasionally (hello? fequent flyer miles! hello? Marriott points!), this time when I dropped him off at the airport I was a little bummed. Joe: sunny California, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, Hollywood. Me: rainy Augusta, carpooling, afternoon practices, cooking, laundry, deadlines.

~2~ Tuesday: Went with the little guy to our school's Book Fair. He wanted a Captain Underpants book. I said no. He wanted a boxing poster. Again, it was a no. We finally settled on a book on animals that came with a DVD. But his mind was still on the boxing poster . . .

Sigh. Now he is in training.

Doesn't he look ferocious?

~3~ Tuesday night: Joe called from California. He explained how the fog along the coast isn't called fog, but marine layer. He told me he saw the Hollywood sign. And the weather? Couldn't be more perfect. Huh. I ignored the pile of laundry waiting to be folded and called my best friend to make a lunch date.

~4~ Wednesday: Met my friend at P.F. Chang's AND I even ordered an appetizer.

~5~ Wednesday night: Joe called from California where it was sunny and beautiful. Here it was raining . . . a lot.

~6~ Thursday afternoon: Jonathan had to serve detention for being tardy to class. Not a big deal, but very inconvenient for Timothy and me since we had to wait for an hour. So, we waited in Dairy Queen. That's a great place to wait.

~7~ Thursday evening: Picked Joe up from the airport. He scooted me out of the driver's seat and handed me a box from the Nordstrom's in Santa Barbara. Joe: smart man. Me: his happy wife.

*Today's post is sponsored by Jen over at Conversion Diary. Go and visit.

Soup's On

2011-09-17T17:53:00.003-04:00

Cooler temperatures ... finally.

In which I more than earned my morning cappuccino

2011-09-14T19:43:00.011-04:00

Our 2nd grader has to complete a family tree project which includes a small report describing his family, as well as a poster containing photos of our family. The poster has a spot for each person, which means group shots wouldn't work.

The project is due tomorrow, so this morning I grabbed my digital camera to get separate head shots of the boys. What should have been a five minute chore was anything but ... and it was all Jonathan's fault.

You see, Jonathan eyes are very light sensitive, and if he knows a flash is coming he cannot help but squint; in fact, he is so sensitive that the last time he had his eyes checked he would not/could not cooperate for the glaucoma test. After repeated attempts the technician taped his eyelids open. I had to leave the room I was laughing so hard.

Anyway, this was the first photo of the morning:

"Can you at least try to keep your eyes open?" I asked, with more than a hint of exasperation in my voice.

This was him trying:

After ten more attempts which the exact same results -- same closed eyes, same expression, same pose -- I had had enough.

"I'm telling you what, you'd better keep those eyes open or else," I threatened ... mean, mean Mommy that I am. And seriously? I was wondering where the scotch tape was.

So THIS was what I got:

Sigh. In the end, THIS is what we settled on:

Believe me ... I more than earned my cappuccino this morning!

The best laid plans ...

2011-09-07T09:25:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I was going through some photos and found this one from our family trip to Italy last summer. It reminded me that no matter how much we plan, there are always unknowns ...

QUESTION: What went into this rental van for the 2-hour trip from Rome to Naples?

ANSWER: Four adults, two teens, one six year old, six pieces of luggage, six carry-ons, and two purses.

QUESTION: How were we going to survive the 7-hour trip up to Verona a week later?

ANSWER: We weren't. Enough said. We rented another car.

And it was worth every penny ... I mean, euro.

Done.

2011-09-05T20:30:00.007-04:00

Menu planning this week was both easy (Monday was a freebie due to Labor Day) and a challenge (busy week ahead). But the planning is done, and my mind can rest easy. For more great recipe ideas and links, check out Mary Louise's blog as she hosts her Weekly Supper Menu Challenge.

Tuesday: Seafood Night (check seafood counter at store); bruschetta; fresh fruit

Wednesday: Chicken Jambalya; Hearts of Romaine salad

Thursday: Pasta al Tonno; garden salad; grissini

Friday (football): Chicken Caesar grilled panini; Cape Cod chips; banana pudding

Saturday: Cauliflower Risotto w/ mushrooms; homemade Italian bread

Sunday dinner w/ Nonna & Nonno: Veal Scallops w/ Prosciutto & Sage; Tuscan beans; ciabatta w/ Italian seasoning; strawberries & lemon sorbet; espresso

dining al fresco
Sorrento, Italy
June 2010

This really is a G-rated blog ...

2011-09-03T09:07:00.004-04:00

but tell that to the pizza dough I left to rise on the counter. The older boys snickered, Joe grinned, and Timothy looked confused.

"Why is everyone laughing?" he asks, in all innocence. "It looks like a heart."

Of COURSE it's a heart, and if you thought otherwise ... SHAME ON YOU!!

Are You Blog Worthy?

2011-09-01T21:15:00.010-04:00

So, today a series of family emails were flying back and forth between my sister, her husband, and my brother. My sister started it when she kinda sorta was making fun of her husband ... in a loving way, of course.

By the time I jumped on board at lunchtime the topic had inexplicably switched from my brother-in-law to ... me (btw, when does a librarian, a tax collector, and doctor work? Evidently, never ... but that's another story).

Specifically, they were making fun of the way I laugh.

I have what I like to consider an infectious laugh; they, on the other hand, describe it as the evil laughter, a witch cackle, Bia's annoying laugh, and a few other things that aren't quite as nice.

Today they even went so far as to call me Nelson, and someone -David?- said I even looked like him. Because I didn't know what in the heck they were talking about they enlightened me via email:

But wait ...

THEN (and this is soooo bad) David actually thanked Patrick for deflecting [Bia's] blog from me to you! (his very words). Was that an insult? I mean, don't they realize what an honor it is to be considered blog worthy???

So, today dear Patrick and David, you are going to be soooo blog worthy.

Insert Bia's cackling laughter right here.

1- David likes to eat box turtles. Yum. Yum. AND he likes Sponge Bob ... really, really likes him. It's kinda weird.

2- David's high school prom date wore the SHORTEST dress ... or was it a shirt? My parents were horrified.

3- When Joe and I were first married, we came home one afternoon to find David sitting on our front porch. He was mad at my parents and had decided to run away from home. We drove him back the very same evening.

4- Patrick doesn't throw ANYTHING away. Really. He's also really good in traffic circles and has a cell phone with a rotary dial.

5- I can't be positive, but I'm pretty sure Patrick loves duct tape.

6- Patrick (the tax collector) has to oversee a group of women ... women who cry a lot ... women who cannot make a decision on their own. He tells funny stories about these women.

7- And just so we're clear who I am talking about ... photos.

Cue Bia's evil laughter again.

DAVID (my brother)

PATRICK (my brother in law)

Bia's cackling laughter.........

**Today's post was hosted by Jen at Conversion Diary. She is always blog worthy in the best way possible.

Sometimes Revenge is as Sweet as Banana Pudding

2011-08-29T14:10:00.002-04:00

This weekend I made banana pudding, a good, old fashioned taste of heaven that my boys devoured.

Then today, as I was preparing my lunch, I spied the last bit of the banana pudding in the refrigerator. A mental battle ensued: should I eat it, or should I save it for the boys?

Decisions, decisions.

Then I remembered how this morning everyone was grumpy and out of sorts despite my cheery attempts to spread a little sunshine with teasing, laughter, and hugs all around. But nothing worked. Evidently, contrariness was the order of the day.

Huh.

I ate all that banana pudding, stopping just short of licking the bowl.

Carry-Over Meals and Being Sneaky

2011-08-28T16:31:00.008-04:00

For several weeks now I have been partipating in Mary Louise's Weekly Supper Menu Challenge at MLCH Garden, and I must say that mealtimes in our house are much less stressful. By organizing meals on Sunday for the upcoming week, I no longer have that nagging thought, What am I going to fix for dinner?, because I already know; in fact, not only do I know, but all the necessary ingredients are at hand so there are no last minute trips to the grocery store.

And with afternoon and evenings like ours, the last thing I need is a "quick" trip to the grocery store.

As I sat down this afternoon to plan, I noticed another huge benefit of menu planning: any meal that we didn't use carries over into the following week. Last week, for example, leftovers one night and an unexpected invitation to dinner on another night meant that two planned meals (chicken saltimbocca and pork tenderloin) will be on for this week.

Two meals already planned and the fact that my husband will gone most of the week makes for a super easy planning week (when Joe is out of town I keep it simple: something easy for the kids, and a salad for me).

So, this week:

Monday: quesadillas; spanish rice; banana pudding

Tuesday: burger night; fresh fruit

Wednesday: pasta w/ homemade tomato sauce; seasoned ciabatta rolls

Thursday (Joe comes home): pork tenderloin w/ rosemary & olive oil; polenta; wilted greens; lemon sorbet w/ fresh fruit

Friday Game night: homemade pizza; garden salad

Saturday: chicken saltimbocca; oven roasted potatoes; tomato salad

Sunday: lunch at Nonna & Nonno's (yeah! no cooking for me)

P.S. Sometimes it feels so good to sneak in a healthy meal without anyone realizing it. Case in point, last week I made Low-Fat Turkey Burgers from the Eat Clean Diet Cookbook. Everyone loved the grilled burgers, so much so that I didn't feel the need to divulge the ingredients (why ruin a good thing?).

But, for you I will:

Low-Fat Turkey Burgers

1 c. high protein cereal flakes (I used whole bran flakes)
1/2 c. skim milk
3 tsp. instant low-sodium chicken bouillon
3 tbsp. minced onion
2 egg whites
1 lb. ground turkey

Combine first five ingredients. Let sit for 5 minutes. Add ground turkey and shape into patties (at this point I added some breadcrumbs because the mixture seemed a little "wet"). Cook on the grill.

Buon Appetito!

If Oprah can have a Favorite Things list ... I can, too (in just 7 quick takes)

2011-08-25T21:26:00.018-04:00

~1~
My Capri watch.

But better than the watch itself, is the story behind it (a song and dance routine of conducting business in Italy) and the setting (the island of Capri). Sigh.

~2~
Pendant lights over the breakfast counter.

My sister in-law gave me the idea to replace the recessed lights in the ceiling with pendant lights. Easy enough project, right?

Except that the recessed lights were off center, so we had to make a base to shift everything over.
Except that, with ten foot ceilings, we were straining to reach the ceiling even when we stood on the counter.
Except that once everything was mounted, one of the pendant lights went out and we had to take everything down and start all over again.

Nobody was speaking to me that evening.

But I love those lights:-)

~3~
Girl Reading, Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot .

My $15 purchase (frame and all) at an antique store that was going out of business. It hangs in our study and it's just perfect.

~4~
Our Rec Room.

Shortly after moving into our house we decided to convert our two-car garage into a rec/entertaining room. The garage door was replaced by french doors; the industrial gray walls were painted a sunny yellow; the concrete floor was carpeted; and built in benches were added around one wall. We purchased a beautiful farm table, and decorated it with inspiration from all things Italian Countryside (think Tuscan farmhouse). Most of our entertaining gets done in that room.

~5~
My Barista Espresso Machine.

This little corner in my kitchen is where Cappuccino Magic happens.

~6~
Old letters and black & white photos.

~7~
My Nonna's thimble.

Enough said.

Now, go visit Jen over at Conversion Diary ... she called in the heavy artillery to handle a scorpion problem.

In Which We Heard, But Didn't Listen

2011-08-23T21:00:00.017-04:00

Two weeks ago Jonathan, our 9th grader, came home from school on Friday and announced that he did not want to continue playing football. A summer of conditioning, two-a-day practices in August, a Midnight Madness pre-season exhibition, a scrimmage in which he actually got to play . . . and then, with the first game of the season just around the corner, he wants out.

You can imagine the discussions in our house that weekend. Why? we asked, and then grew frustrated when it all boiled down to the simple fact that he just didn't like it. But that wasn't a good enough answer for us. We talked about commitment, overcoming obstacles, and teamwork. We talked and we talked but, by Sunday, he was adamant about his decision. Well, we said, take a break from practice for a couple of days and think about it.

My husband and I waited through Monday. Then Tuesday. During this time we entered into a parenting wasteland ... the place parents go when they are racked with indecision. We didn't know how to guide our son because we were lost, too. Oh, we prayed, but there were more questions than answers. Should we do this? Do we do that? Do we even need to do anything at all?

And we were buffeted with thoughts of what people would think. We are not proud of this, but this was forefront in our minds. What would the coach think? What do we tell our friends? Will the other players make fun of him? Will they think we are bad parents if we don't insist that he play, or bad parents if we do?

On Wednesday Jonathan spoke with the coach who is always understanding when a player wants to quit. Football is not for everyone, he is fond of saying; but when he said this to Jonathan, he also told him to go home and sleep on it.

Wednesday afternoon.

Wednesday evening.

On Thursday morning Jonathan got ready for school. I don't know what to do, he said.

Later that morning Joe and I were talking on the phone. Joe was worried that, at this point, if Jonathan stayed on the team it would be because he was pressured into it. We thought back to the beginning of summer: Jonathan started working out with the team at our suggestion; when he expressed doubts a few weeks later, we encouraged him to continue until the scrimmage; after the scrimmage he was quiet, but we told him the hard part was over and that things would get easier.

And as we talked we realized that all along Jonathan had been a good son; he had listened to us and had given football a try . . . again and again. He didn't just decide out of the blue that he didn't like it; he had been telling us all along.

At that point Joe and I did what we should have done several days earlier: we surrendered and stopped trying to make things work out the way we thought they should. And in surrendering we found our way out of that wasteland. We finally listened to what Jonathan (and God) had been trying to tell us, and nothing else mattered. Nothing.

I immediately texted Jonathan: Jona-baby, Dad and I want you to know that whatever you decide will be 100% okay. All will be fine. We love you.

He turned in his jersey that afternoon.

Jonathan now spends his afternoons adhering to a workout he created to get ready for basketball because, really, that is where his true passion is found; his heart beats in rhythm with the bounce of a basketball and the sound of squeaky sneakers on the gym floor is music to his ears.

He is happy. We are happy.

And it's all good.

What's for dinner?

2011-08-22T11:06:00.004-04:00

Participating in Mary Louise's weekly Supper Menu Challenge keeps me organized . . .

MONDAY: chicken szuechuanese w/ brown rice; fruit salad

TUESDAY: glazed mahi-mahi w/ couscous; tomato-squash salad; peanut butter & oatmeal chocolate chip cookies

WEDNESDAY: linguine in clam sauce; grissini; garden salad

THURSDAY: turkey burgers; roasted potatoes; hearts of Romaine salad

FRIDAY: pork tenderloin w/ rosemary & olive oil; polenta; wilted greens

SATURDAY: ???

SUNDAY DINNER W/ NONNA & NONNO: chicken saltimbocca; garlic mashed potatoes; carrot salad; ricotta-espresso dessert cups

Family Night: Minute to Win It Edition

2011-08-20T18:59:00.011-04:00

Since our family has been running in a million different directions lately, Joe and I were determined to have a family night this weekend using our formula of food, faith, and fun. So, last night we ate subs, read some spiritual devotions and discussed them, and then played our version of the NBC game, Minute to Win It, in which contestants have one minute to complete simple tasks. I found game ideas at the NBC web site, and then selected ones based on what I already had around the house.

Not only did this make a fun family night, but I am thinking that next time we could invite a couple of families over for a Minute to Win It family game night. Anyone interested?

Anyway, here are the games we played tonight (the tea bag one caused side-splitting laughter):

1. Back Flip: Place pencil on back of hand, then flip your hand and catch the pencil. Keep adding a pencil until you've caught eight in a row.

2. Puzzle Scramble: Assemble a puzze with one hand behind you back.

3. Marble Pencil: Player must lie on their stomach and roll one marble at a time to knock over a pencil standing on its end.

4. Tigger Bounce: Bounce a pin-pong ball into a small container.

5. Dicey: Hold the handle of a spoon between your teeth. Using one hand, balance and stack six dice in the bowl of the spoon.

6. Go the Distance: One at a time, roll three ping-pong balls into a glass using a tape measure as a ramp. The tape measure must be opened to a distance of four feet.

7. Baby Blockin': Stack 5 wooden blocks on top of a plastic plate balanced on your head.

8. Card Ninja: From a distance, throw five playing cards into a basket. Cards must be thrown one at a time.

9. Horseplay: Without using your hands, blow a ping-pong ball up an incline and into a basket.

10. Iron Board Man: Team members hold opposite ends of an ironing board. Balancing the ends, players must land a marble so that it lands in one of the center holes.

11. Ping-tac-toe: Place nine cups filled with 1/3 cup of water in a grid. Bounce ping-pong balls into the grid for the classic tic-tac-toe game.

12. Sticky situation: Bounce and stick a ping-pong ball onto a slice of bread covered in peanut butter.

13. Tea Party: Attach a tea bags on each side of the bill of a baseball cap. Wearing the hat, player must flip the tea bags up on the bill without using their hands.

I have to do what with these tea bags?

14. What a racquet: Holding a tennis racket in one hand, a player must move a marble across a tennis racket's nylon strings until it lands in the center square.

15. Yank Me: Stack 5 cups and 4 index cards in a tower, then remove cards from top down so that each cup lands on top of the one underneath.

More family night ideas here (St. John Bosco) and here (Eating, and Praying, and Drawing . . . Oh My!).

"Tip O' the Morning" (7 Quick Takes Friday)

2011-08-19T06:03:00.004-04:00

Now that everyone is back in school, this is the time of year in which I evaluate, study, and tweak our morning routine. I learned a long time ago that how our mornings begin sets the tone for the rest of the day, so these are some ways which help our mornings get off to a good start ...

~1~ Do laundry over the weekend. This is a win-win situation because not only does ALL the laundry get done, but everyone is home to help fold and put it away. This way, there is no last minute scrambling during the week to find navy pants, matching socks, or a school sweatshirt.

~2~ Pack lunches the night before. Even though I am often tempted to wait and do it later, planning ahead gives me that much more time in the morning to deal with other things.

~3~ Start the day off with some alone time (a must for me). Of course, this means getting up before anyone else, but a 15-20 buffer is all I need to mentally and physically prepare. In the past, I tried to use this time for morning prayers, but I discovered that I pray better (and yawn much less) if I do my prayers mid-morning. This year my early alone time includes a 20 minute yoga session, and I love it. It's both invigorating and energizing. (I should point out that my yoga session is not part of my daily workout.)

~4~ Because I drive every morning, I make my morning cappuccino to go. I used to wait until I returned home, but dealing with morning traffic and a 45 minute commute made me grumpy. So, morning drive + cappuccino = happy carpooling mom.

~5~ One of the biggest problems I had to try and solve was The Messy Morning Kitchen. We are breakfast eaters; that is, we do not grab a Pop Tart and head out the door; instead, our breakfasts include any of the following: cereal, waffles, toast, yogurt, fruit, and orange juice. So, you can imagine the bowls, spoons, cups, and plates that we go through. The problem was that once I returned home from carpooling, I wanted to get on with my day and not stop to clean the kitchen. As a result, there were many evenings in which I was cleaning the breakfast dishes after dinner. My solution? Breakfast is the only meal in which we use paper products ... cups, plates, bowls, spoons. Now, clean-up is a breeze, and when we leave in the morning the kitchen is already in order.

~6~ A good night's rest discourages the appearance of Mr. Grumpy Pants at breakfast. A set bedtime is easy with our little one ... he is in bed by 8 p.m. (and even earlier if he needs it). Our high school sons have more freedom in this area, but the general rule of thumb is lights out by 11 p.m., period.

~7~ Be aware of who is a morning person . . . and who isn't. It's perfectly okay to separate them, if necessary.

And for a little inspiration . . .

Now, go visit Jen over at Conversion Diary ... you might see a teddy bear with a scorpion on the chin.

Wanted: A Saint in the Second Grade

2011-08-16T13:21:00.005-04:00

Me, driving Timothy to school: Wow, second grade! This is a special year when you'll receive the sacraments of Holy Eucharist and First Reconciliation. Isn't that exciting?

Timothy: What's First Reconciliation?

Me: Remember when we sometimes go to church Saturday evening for confession? Well, that's Reconciliation, when we confess our sins to the priest.

Timothy, in all seriousness: Oh, well I won't need to do that . . . I don't have any sins.

This, from the same person who yesterday called his brother an idiot. I'm thinking that Miss Hoffman has her work cut out for her.

7 quick takes: A Tale of Two Sisters at the Beach (and Prince William in Boxers)

2011-08-12T08:23:00.015-04:00

~1~ I went for a walk this morning along the beach and encountered a woman walking the biggest dog I have ever seen. It wasn't a dog ... it was a horse. And instead of carrying a sandwich bag in which to scoop up poop, she carried a black, hefty trash bag. YIKES.

~2~ Guest bloggers. I've started something, I see that now (see previous two posts). I heard that my brother in-law might want to write and/or contribute. Let me think, let me think . . . No.

~3~ So, one evening we piled in my van and headed to Coligny Plaza (shopping & evening entertainment). I drove all the way there, parked, and THEN realized I did not have my wallet with me (it was in my beach bag because earlier my sister and I had plans for a couple of poolside daiquiris ... but that's another story). When it was time to head back, I handed my sister the keys and, on cue, we all double-checked our seat belts because once upon a time she totaled my car (true story). She turned on the ignition, went to put the car in drive, and instead turned on the windshield wipers at top speed.

~4~ Like good mothers, this week we have made sure to provide square meals for the boys. Case in point: last night we ordered a square pizza from Pies R Squared. And for veggies, we threw a token bag of carrots on the table. No one ate the carrots.

~5~ One day, while sorting through a clearance bin at Barnes & Noble, my sister came across William & Kate paper dolls and handed them to me (or maybe I snatched them). Anyway, I spent a good part of yesterday cutting out the outfits and ignoring questions from the boys who just didn't get the whole paper doll thing. What do you do with them? Do you have a fashion show, or something? Who wants to play with paper? That's just stupid. Sigh. But look ... how fun is this? Besides, how else would you be able to see Prince William in boxers?

~6~ You might think that a week at the beach without our husbands meant all this freedom to go outlet shopping, but remember ... we also have three BOYS with us. We did go to the mall for all of twenty minutes, but it was just enough time to purchase these cute sneakers. And if you tell me they look like bowling shoes I am not talking to you anymore. I really love these sneakers.

~7~ A starfish, sand castles, and two sisters.

Now, go visit Jen at Conversion Diary for more Friday Quick Takes fun!

Guest Blogger: Laura, Bia's Sister (part II)

2011-08-10T14:51:00.005-04:00

It appears from your responses that there are still some doubters among you. So I shall continue on my quest for truth and clarity.

Setting the Record Straight (Part 2): Parenting Skills
Watching Bia with her children, you cannot help but be impressed by her parenting skills. She leads them through life with wisdom and common sense. I am constantly impressed by her childrearing philosophies. But yesterday, it struck me. Of course she does a good job imparting wisdom and good qualities to her children! Because she practiced on her little sister and brother! As the oldest one, the wisest one, the Big Sister, she was “the boss” as we grew up. And she had tons of practice. To support my theory, I provide you with the anecdotes below, organized by Life Skills:

GENEROSITY: Since we grew up during the Dark Ages, as my oldest son claims, Bia and I had relatively few toys. What toys we did have were precious to us. Despite our attachment to every item in our rooms, Bia started a tradition between the two of us: Gift Boxes. Every few months we would each take a shoe box, fill it with gift items from our own treasured collections of items, and exchange them! Opening those boxes was like Christmas in July! And while each of us gave up several items that we treasured, we also received some in return.

IMAGINATION: Again, living in the Dark Ages, our television time was limited to “The Waltons” and “Little House on the Prairie.” Bia used her imagination to invent elaborate stories which David (our brother) and I were forced to enact. Instructions for such events from Bia were similar to the following: “Laura, you will be Laura Ingalls and I, of course, will be Mary. But I’m not blind yet. And you don’t have Almanzo yet because he is actually in love with me at the moment. David, you will be Pa. Stop whining; Pa never whines, not even in blizzards with no food. We have babies, but they are not ours – we’re just babysitting. We have to make it to town, but we are intercepted by Nellie Olson. Mom can be Nellie. OK, she’s busy, but we can pretend she is here. Evil Nellie kidnaps the babies and hides them in a remote barn. While we are searching for the babies, a blizzard crops up, and we have to tie ropes from tree to tree so as not to perish in the wilderness…” (etc.). You get the picture?

NEGOTIATION SKILLS:
Bia (age 10): Laura, let’s play Barbies.
Laura (age 8): No way.
Bia: Yes way. It’s a requirement.
Laura: Not again! Please! I hate Barbies!
Bia: Blasphemy! Nobody can hate Barbies! What’s wrong with you?
Laura: But we played Barbies 20 times already this week!
Bia: You can never play too much with Barbies. Come on! You can be Skipper.
Laura: Are you gonna be the scary Barbie with the head that flips around to change her hair color?
Bia: Sure, I’ll be Evil Barbie.
Laura: What about Ken?
Bia: What about him?
Laura: I’m tired of sharing Ken. Why do we always have to share Ken? That’s weird! Who shares Kens? Is that even allowed?
Bia: OK, you can have Ken.
Laura: What about the Town House? Who gets to live there?
Bia: You do, Skipper.
Laura: Hey, I have an idea. Let’s play Barbies!

GROOMING SKILLS:
Bia (age 15): Laura, we need to dress David up like a girl.
Laura (age 13): Say what?
Bia: Come on, it will be fun! I have this little skirt and these clip-on earrings… how cute would our 3-year old brother look in them?
Laura: Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Bia: David, come here! Let’s put this on you! … how cute you look! Look, Laura, he’s adorable with that skirt hiked up to his armpits! And here are the earrings… don’t worry, it only pinches for a second… oh! How sweet! A little Davidina! Hey, Laura, go get the camera… we could use this photo in the future…
Dad: What on EARTH?!?

CREATIVITY/ENJOYMENT OF THE ARTS:
Did I mention we grew up in the Dark Ages? So our music was limited. But thanks to Bia, we made the most of our records (many of them 45’s from Mom’s youth). At least once a week Bia would coerce me into rehearsing yet another routine set to some song from one of our collection of musicals. After rehearsing til reaching perfection, we would then perform for our Dear Parents and our giggling little brother. We went all out, too, even to the point of making programs to hand out. What better way to enjoy music from Mary Poppins, Oklahoma, South Pacific, and the Sound of Music? Not to mention the Old Western music (thanks to dad’s collection) like Marty Robbins’ Ballad of the Alamo. Boy, that was some routine – people dying everywhere, but bravely. And who could forget our performance of “Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini”?!?!?!

ASSERTIVENESS (aka Bossiness):
It is the middle of the night. 3 a.m. At my aunt’s house in Italy.
Bia (age 19): Laura! Laura! Are you awake? Laura!
Laura (age 17): Wha..?!
Bia: Are you awake?
Laura: I am now! (Did I mention it’s 3 a.m.?)
Bia: Get up and close the blinds.
Laura: Are you kidding me?
Bia: No, the moon is bothering me. Go close the blinds.
Laura: Close them yourself!
Bia: You’re awake! Go close them!
Laura: You woke me up to tell me to go close the blinds?!?
Bia: You’re closer to the window.
Laura: For the love of Pete!
(This thrilling conversation continues until Laura gets up and closes the blinds. To this day she has no idea how Bia persuaded her to do this.)

ENJOYMENT OF CHORES:
Since we lived in the Dark Ages (did I mention that?) we did not have a dishwasher. So Bia and I had to take turns each night… until Bia came up with a plan to do the dishes TOGETHER to get them done faster. One of us would wash, the other would rinse, and – voila! – the chore would be done in no time. Especially if we sang the score of South Pacific while washing and rinsing!

ENTREPRENEURSHIP:
When Bia was 13 and I was 11, she came up with the Mega Babysitting Business Plan. I had to be coerced, of course, but I soon found myself delivering hand-made advertisement cards to each house in the entire neighborhood where we lived (and it was a big neighborhood). The cards read: Babysitters Available! Sisters, ages 11 and 13. Skilled and experienced Please call! And we included our names and contact information. And a few hand-colored flowers. We trudged home after our trek around the neighborhood and waited. Bia was sure we’d be successful; I was skeptical. But at the end of that summer, when I counted my $2000+ babysitting dollars (we made $2/hour during those Dark Ages), I was done complaining! We had become the #1 babysitting team in the area!

HONESTY/INTEGRITY (This one is more recent. As in, yesterday!):
“Hey, Bia, can I borrow a pen?” I ask.
“Sure.” She pulls out her handy dandy perfect little zippered pen pouch and hands me a pen. “Don’t lose it; it’s one of my favorites.”
“Thanks.” I write a bit. Then say, “I like this pen, too. I used to have one just like…hey!” I peer closely at the pen and suck in my breath. What the…?!? “This is MY pen!” I exclaim.
She looks at me with disdain. “Impossible.”
I peer at the pen again. Yup. “YOU STOLE MY PEN!” I roar.
“Absolutely impossible,” she replies. “I’ve had that pen forever.”
I hold up the incriminating evidence and wave it in the air. “Look! It says IUG 2008. IUG stands for Innovative User’s Group. That’s a library-related conference!! What would you be doing with a library conference pen?? YOU STOLE MY PEN! PEN THIEF!”
She thinks for a moment. “I thought it was Joe’s. He always brings home pens from his meetings.”
I glare at her.
“Well…,” she says finally. “Maybe I accidentally borrowed it when I was at your house the last time?”
THE TRUTH WILL OUT!
“You can have it back.”
“Thanks, sis.”

So there you have it. The next time you are impressed with Bia’s skills as a parent, feel free to sent me a message to thank me for being the guinea pig throughout my entire childhood. And you’re welcome!

Guest Blogger: Laura, my sister

2011-08-09T20:04:00.009-04:00

Setting the Record Straight (Part 1)

My name is Laura, and I am Bia's sister. That's how I introduce myself to the world: "I am Bia's sister. I am the sister of that nearly perfect woman who authors the blog called La Dolce Vita: the Sweet Life with Three Sons." OK, not really, but those of you who follow this blog and who don't actually KNOW Bia might have thought I was serious. Who can follow this blog and not realize what a wonderful person Bia is? Not only is she creative and intelligent, she is witty, kind, faithful, amazing, and - in short - an inspiration to us all. Am I right?

I am here at Hilton Head Island with my two older sons, spending a few days with Bia and her youngest. Earlier today she said, "Hey, while you're here, you can write a guest post for my blog." My jaw dropped. "What??? I get to write something blog-worthy?!?" I was filled with excitement. Because here was my chance - my long-awaited chance!! - to set the record straight. Yup, you heard me. I'm taking my chance to reveal a few facts about Bia just to reassure you guys that she is, indeed, human. While she does possess all of those wonderful qualities listed above, let's face it - nobody is perfect. And I know that some of you may secretly resent Bia for her apparent perfect-ness, so I plan to do you a favor and put your soul at ease. Because once you know these facts about Bia, you will like her even more.

1. The Mean Streak

I know it's hard to believe. But Bia has a mean streak. It's tiny, and it only manifests on rare occasions. But it's there all right. And you immediately know when it's coming because it is always accompanied by THE EVIL WITCH CACKLE. Believe me, you know it when you hear it. Case in point: during dinner tonight, Bia put down her fork and addressed my youngest son. "Thomas," she said, "I have a question." Cackle, cackle, cackle. Uh-Oh, I think. "You had a banana at snack time, right?" Thomas nods. "I wanted to ask you: how do you manage to make so much NOISE while eating a banana?" cackle, cackle, cackle. More cackling while the poor kid tries to explain that he can't close his mouth while eating because of his overbite. Then the cackling is accompanied by a story of Bia's oldest eating tomatoes and mozzarella with juice dripping from his mouth. Mean, mean, mean. The poor, traumatized children. I heard that cackle when, in the 4th grade, I had a strange bubble on my nose and the doctor took a picture of it. And again when the lamp fell off the ceiling and hit me on that same nose. And again when a can fell out of the cabinet and hit me on the nose! (yes, I have a bumpy nose). And again when my brother tried to eat my turtle... etc. etc. Good thing Bia has all those OTHER good qualities to smother that naughty little mean streak of hers.

2. Her house does not ALWAYS look like a page out of Southern Living

Do you get the teensiest been jealous of Bia's gorgeous, neat home? Well, I do. After a visit with her, I sigh at my messy, cluttered house. But here is some good news: I have been in Bia's house when there were toys scattered everywhere, crumbs on the counters, laundry piled in the corner, dishes in the sink, and a teensy bit of dust on the furniture! Truly! This might have been after a day or two of a visit from her sister (me) and her family, but still... just so you know those picture on her blog are not always accurate. Oh, and right now, our beach condo kitchen is a mess. So there! (Guess who has the mean streak now?)

And so ends Part 1 of Setting the Record Straight. More to come! Oh, by the way, we are having a great time at the beach despite the fact that there is a tremendous thunderstorm outside right now. But it's cool to look out the window at the wicked surf and the empty beach!

My Personal GPS

2011-08-08T19:58:00.002-04:00

Just me, the bambino, an open road, and some good old fashioned map skills. And we made it.

Stockpiling

2011-08-07T16:56:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow the bambino and I head to Hilton Head Island for a week, and just so you don't think Joe and the boys will go hungry, note the note ...

My Answers to Yesterday's Questions

2011-08-06T15:09:00.004-04:00

~1~ First of all, check out Suburban Correspondent's comment from yesterday's post ... evidently she is passionate on the topic of teen drivers and I agree totally with what she had to say. This is how I handled my little situation:

Me: Gosh (playing dumb),is that even allowed? I know in Georgia a new driver is only allowed to have immediate family in the car; then, for the next six months he is only allowed one non-family member.

Them: Well, I don't know. Back home I think he'd be fine ... he's a good driver, though.

Me, ignoring the last part of their response: Well, I wonder what the law is in Maryland? (Which is precisely where we were having this little conversation.)

Them: Good question. They consider this a moment. Junior, I don't think you can drive this time.

Well, if looks could kill, I'd be dead. That teen was NOT happy with me, but on the way home Timothy got carsick so revenge was sweet (not very Christ-like of me, I know, but still ... )

~2~ No gaming during the week ... period. And the only computer time has to be school-related.

~3~ I can't imagine what their moms must think; maybe nothing at all, I don't know. But I am embarrassed for them.

~4~ In yesterday's comments on how to say no, Joe Kovac gave some wonderful advice on how to do so in a polite, classy, and kind manner. I'm going to try his suggestion instead of thinking up excuses.

~5~ No, I am NOT too old to shop at Old Navy. I can shop there if I want to ... and if nothing fits, why I'll just go home and put on my most flattering muumuu.

~6~ Since I already mentioned my favorite exercise program, I was wondering ... do you think it's neurotic of me to be afraid to use public gym equipment?

~7~ My Zia Tiziana gave me some wonderful suggestions on what to do at the beach next week, but since not many of you read Italian I'll translate: she basically listed all the ways I can shower Timothy with attention, then FINALLY (at the very end) she says I can have a cappuccino. Molto grazie. I'll definitely have that cappuccino ;-)

7 Quick Takes: In Which You Have all the Answers

2011-08-05T08:30:00.012-04:00

~1~ We were recently on vacation when I got caught in an interesting situation. Timothy and I had accompanied a family we had just met to a nearby town. When it was time to go, the 16 year old in the other family asked to be allowed to drive us all home. I was thunderstruck when his mother agreed to let him drive the van, with three adults and three children under the age of 7, over 15 miles of twisty, mountain roads. The ink was still wet on his license. Call me crazy, but there was no way in heck I was getting in that van.
QUESTION: What would you have done?

~2~ This Saturday we are combining our family night with a family back-to-school meeting. Some of the things under discussion will be goals for the upcoming school year, computer time, and limited television/wii time during the week. Last year we had a no gaming policy except on weekends.
QUESTION: What limits do you place on computer/gaming/television during the school year?

~3~ Recently I watched an online trailer for the show Jersey Shore: Season in Italy. For the entire 90 second trailer I could not believe my eyes. Do some people really behave that way? Apparently so. I was horrified at their debauchery (there really is no other word). And then I couldn't help thinking ...
QUESTION: What do their Moms think when they see the show? Are they proud?

~4~ Toward the end of July I was already being approached to volunteer, serve, donate, and commit to various activities in both schools. This year I want to be free to do other projects, so I am going to be very selective on the ways I get involved.
QUESTION: How do you say no?

~5~ I popped into Old Navy yesterday just to . . . oh, to see if I could find something fun to wear. Nothing, absolutely nothing fit right.
Question: Am I too old to be shopping at Old Navy?

~6~ I have never been one to join a gym . . . something about touching equipment that someone else has sweat on just grosses me out. I love to walk, jog, bike, and work out at home using my collection of exercise cd's. My favorite workout is The Firm, which uses interval training of cardio and body sculpting. It is a serious workout.
QUESTION: Do you have a favorite exercise cd?

~7~ My husband has a great friend who periodically gives us the use of his condo in Hilton Head, but this year the week coincided with the first week of school for the older boys. Darn. But wait . . . My dear husband (who travels periodically for work) said it was my turn and for me to go with Timothy while he stays home to work and take care of the older boys. So all next week the bambino and I will be at the beach.
QUESTION: Gee, what am I going to do at the beach with all that free time?

**Speaking of exercise, visit Jen at Conversion Diary . . . she has a funny jogging story.

When Not To Be a Parent

2011-08-03T20:52:00.017-04:00

Last night the boys came home from football practice tired, sweaty, and very sore. It has been a rough week; temperatures have been well over 100 and, with two-a-day practices, they leave home after lunch and don't get home until after eight. Understandably, in the evening when they walk in the door they are not chatty.

But last night Nicholas was especially subdued. After eating he went upstairs to shower and didn't come back down.

"Nothing is wrong," he insisted later when I went up to check on him. I nodded, but sat on the edge of his bed because if there is one thing I know it's this: when your child says nothing is wrong, it usually means that something is. I waited him out, not saying anything while what I really wanted to say was, "Talk! Just talk!"

Eventually he did. I listened to him talk about sore muscles and hard hits, about lineups and depth charts, about whether or not all this hard work was worth it; there was not one thing wrong, but a bunch of little things that were getting him down. I rubbed his back and used words such as I love you and tomorrow will be better and things will look better in the morning . . . words that a teenager really doesn't want to hear.

Joe and I are discovering that one of the hardest things about parenting a teen is finding the wisdom to step back and allow him to work things out on his own. Our son had a bad day, I knew that, but I also knew there was nothing I could do to fix the problem. Offer words of encouragement? Yes, of course. Pray? Yes, often and sometimes desperately. Bring him some comfort food? Gladly. But fix the problem? No, not all the time.

And not this time. It was a long night for all of us.

At breakfast this morning Nicholas came downstairs and I watched him while pretending not to. He teased his brother and got his football gear ready. He poured his orange juice and sat down at the table. He seemed better.

"How are you?" I finally asked.

"Good," he replied. "I'm good."

"Things look better this morning?" I wanted to know.

"Yeah, things look better," he said.

And that was that. He had worked it out on his own. I kissed him on the top of his head, and he grinned as I set a platter in front of him piled high with waffles dripping with butter.

Maybe, at the very least, he learned that things always do look better in the morning . . . and that a little comfort food doesn't hurt, either.

Buon Appetito

2011-08-02T10:16:00.003-04:00

Monday:
Moo Shu Pork in flour tortillas
watermelon

Tuesday:
Spaghetti w/ homemade tomato sauce
Caesar salad
Grissini (bread sticks)
Lemon sorbet w/ strawberries

Wednesday:
grilled hamburgers
Cape Cod Chips
Grilled marinated zucchini & summer squash

Thursday:
Italian Muffaletta
Tomato & cucumber salad
peaches in lemon juice

Friday:
Italian chicken cutlets
Parmesan mashed potatoes
Steamed garlic green beans

Saturday Family Night:
Grilled Pizza (make your own)
Ice-cream sundaes

Sunday Lunch w/ Nonna & Nonna:
Melon & Prosciutto
Caprese platter
Baked Penne with Roasted Vegetables
Ricotta & Espresso dessert cups

Last week a few of you asked about the Spinach-Apple Salad with Maple-Cider Vinaigrette. Go here for the recipe.

7 Quick Takes: The Mall at Night (and I lived to tell the tale)

2011-07-28T18:34:00.009-04:00

I very rarely go to the mall, and I almost never go to the mall at night. But yesterday I did both (remember? shopping with boys). And I lived to tell the tale ...

-1- People who go to the mall at night wear their pants belted just above their knees; this causes them to waddle. As a joke, I whispered to my son: I think I will go tell that young man to pull up his pants. My son, who thought I was serious, looked at me with an expression of utmost horror. I had to laugh.

-2- That night there was a Model/Talent search going on at center stage. Women? Teens? No ... little girls. We watched one four year old, wearing tight jeans, sashay down the runway with an attitude of a twenty year old. Not to be judgemental ... BUT WHAT IS HER MOM THINKING???? Suddenly, shopping with boys didn't seem so bad.

-3- On the way from one department store to another, we approached GameStop ... and kept on walking. According to my son, that was cruel. I just patted him on the shoulder and pulled him along.

-4- Trying on long pants for a boy is torture: Another pair? But I have to keep taking my shoes on and off ... this is taking forever! Again, I just patted him on the shoulder.

-5- I am getting wise to how boys think; for example, I saw a nice golf shirt but knew if I suggested it my son wouldn't like it. So, I switched and showed him a different one, and my son (of course) said he didn't like it. Then he picked up the one I had put back (on purpose ... are you getting this?) and said he like this one. I told him he had good taste.

-6- Ninety minutes, and my son was exhausted. Football practice in 98 degree weather was easier than this. Doing yardwork with Dad was more fun than this. AND we didn't even go into GameStop. I gave him a hug.

-7- When we got home, we each had a huge slice of homemade Ricotta Pound Cake and snap! just like that we were happy again.

For some more quick takes fun, visit Jen over at Conversion Diary. She was recently on EWTN; you can watch it here.

When Shopping is a Chore

2011-07-26T15:59:00.002-04:00

Me: Nicholas, you and I need to go shopping for some school clothes.

Nicholas: Everything from last year still fits me ... I don't need anything.

Me: Sweetie (I use this endearment to remind me that I love my son ... I really, really do; it's also a way of channelling some of that southern charm). You can't have a wardrobe that is an exact repeat from last year. Besides, you've grown taller and you could use some longer pants and shorts.

Nicholas: I guess.

His response is accompanied by a huge sigh ... a sigh that carries with it the weight of the world. A sigh that is meant to convey to me that he is so put upon.

Huh. Life is tough.

Next up is Jonathan.

Me: Jonathan, in a couple of days we need to go shopping for some school clothes.

Jonathan: What??!! Why??

Me: Listen (no sweetie this time; to heck with that southern charm). Last year you were still wearing a school uniform; you're about to start high school ... there is no uniform ... you need some clothes.

Jonathan: But I already have golf shirts.

Me: You have two ... don't you think you need more than two shirts?

Jonathan: I guess.

And his sigh is a duplicate of his brother's.

I have a headache already, and I haven't even left the house.

Learning to Strive

2011-07-25T16:38:00.011-04:00

I am a mess.

This was the sobering thought that swirled through my head as I sat in silent prayer while waiting for Mass to begin this past Sunday.

I wasn't happy with myself, but in my self recrimination I couldn't come up with one single, glaring thing that I had done wrong; rather, it was a bunch of smaller ways in which I could have been better ... lost opportunities in which I could have been a better wife, a better mother, a better steward, a better friend, a better writer, a better homemaker, a better example.

If I were being honest (and I was trying to be) then I would have to also admit that lately I had been coasting -- just doing the minimum -- and not taking opportunities to be more: more kind, more generous, more spiritual, more patient, more charitable.

And by not being better or by not doing more meant that I had been ... mediocre, at best. Lukewarm.

Ick. No wonder I wasn't happy with myself. God was calling me to holiness, and holiness wasn't even on my radar.

Or was it? Could these feeling of dissatisfaction and restlessness be God's way of pulling me back? I thought of John Paul II who said that the call to holiness was not only a state, but a task; that we are not so much called to attain perfection, as to strive for perfection.

Strive. I pondered that word for a few minutes.

I once read that in our walk of faith, one either goes forward or one goes backward, but one does not stand still.

This, then, was what God was telling me: I can't be better or do more unless I strive to be better or do more; that unless there is the task, nothing is accomplished. This is not to say that strive is synonymous with success, but that the attempt is better than nothing at all.

Sanctuary of La Verna
Tuscany, Italy
Where St. Francis of Assisi received the stigmata.

A Little Planning Goes a Long Way

2011-07-24T21:33:00.005-04:00

My friend Mary Louise has started a weekly menu challenge on her blog, MLCH Garden: Flora, Food & Friends. While planning our meals is something I like to do, this summer I have not been as organized. So, thank you Mary Louise for the challenge, the inspiration, and the reminder to get organized. This week I am ready.

Monday: grilled marinated chicken; coucous; bruschetta; peaches w/ freshly squeezed lemons

Tuesday: linguine w/ clam sauce; garden salad w/ tomatoes; watermelon

Wednesday: pepper steak over rice; ricotta pound cake

Thursday: pressed cubano panini; roasted “carrot fries”; fruit salad

Friday Family night: grilled homemade pizza; root beer floats

Saturday: chicken spiedini (kabobs); spinach-apple salad w/ maple cider vinaigrette

Sunday late lunch at Nonna & Nonno’s: cold cereal in evening for anyone who is still hungry:)

Where Have all the Bookstores Gone?

2011-07-23T11:32:00.001-04:00

Where have all the bookstores gone? Today marked the beginning of the end of Borders, which follows on the heals of Books-a-Million closing last year. To say that our family is heartbroken is putting it mildly.

I realize that online stores (Amazon) and personal readers (Kindles, etc.) make it all too easy to purchase and/or download a book, and before I go any further, let me just say that I use both. The one-click order button on Amazon is my best friend, and on our recent two week road trip I appreciated the convenience of carrying a kindle.

But never ever did I think they would totally replace the corner bookstore.

For our family, Sunday afternoons were all about browsing in a bookstore. We particularly liked Books-a-Million, and upon entering we all scattered to our favorite sections: Joe went to the sports section, I went to the travel and cooking, Timothy went to play with the Thomas trains, and Nicholas and Jonathan lounged in the young adult section.

We spent at least an hour browsing, walking around until a title, or a front cover, or even the color of book spine made us pause. We looked through giant coffee table books, browsed through the gift section, purchased a hot chocolate. The cashier knew us and we became friends with her.

And now, even Borders is closing. I walked in there yesterday, but had to leave; it was just too sad watching people swarm in and take advantage of the liquidation sale. My friend said it was as if vultures had descended, and watching everyone picking, grabbing and discarding, it was a good description.

This afternoon, borrowing the tune of Peter, Paul, and Mary's Where Have all the Flowers Gone, I posted the following on facebook:

Where have all the bookstores gone? Long time missing them. Where have all the bookstores gone, from long time ago? Where have all the bookstores gone? Out of business everyone. When will they ever return, when will they ever return?

Can you tell I am more than a little nostalgic?

Now pardon me while I go grab a worn copy of Jane Eyre (I love that book!) and curl up in a corner to read. I might even need a box of tissues.

7 Quick Takes: The Slightly Sarcastic Edition

2011-07-22T12:50:00.003-04:00

Really, trying not to be sarcastic, but here are some things that just didn't surprise me this week.

1. The Center for Science in the Public Interest came out with a top 10 list of the most fattening foods served in restaurants. #3 on the list was the Farmhouse cheeseburger from the Cheesecake Factory. A burger topped with a fried egg and served with french fries ... fattening? Really? I think I could have figured that out all by myself.

2. Marc Anthony and Jennifer Lopez divorcing? Wonders will never cease.

3. Evidently, Tiger Woods has money troubles.

4. A while ago our little guy received this 3-D wood craft model biplane. The instructions said easy, educational, fun for the whole family. It was none of these. In the end, I was the only one left ... but I got that darn thing built.

5. Woke up this morning and it was hot outside.

6. YAHOO! Health came out with this article which provides 12 ways to think slim. I must not be thinking hard enough.

7. It does no good whatsoever to argue with a seven year old ... no matter how cute I think he is.

Now, go visit Jen at Conversion Diary for some more Quick Takes.

My Sweet Entrepreneur

2011-07-19T08:26:00.007-04:00

About a month ago Jonathan sent this letter to Capcom USA describing a board game he had made based on one of their DS games. He spent a lot of time making the game, taking pictures, and then researching where to send his letter. He hasn't received a response yet, so to make him feel better I told him I'd post it here.

Dear Capcom USA,

My name is Jonathan and I am 14 years old. I am a huge fan of the Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney series and have all of the games on my DS except for the first one, which I have on Wii Ware.

The reason I am writing is to show you how these games inspired me to make a board game. The game includes locations and characters from all the games including Apollo Justice and Miles Edgeworth. The game is for two players -- one as the defense and one as the prosecution -- who travel to different locations to collect evidence cards for their investigation. There are five witnesses, including the criminal, and all the witnesses are placed in different locations. The goal for the defense is to get through all of the witnesses’ testimonies without losing gage points (your life bar); the goal of the prosecution is to prevent the defense from doing this.

I have attached some pictures of the game. Hope you enjoy!!!

Sincerely,
Jonathan Novajosky

Beating the Heat in an Italian Kitchen

2011-07-17T12:33:00.014-04:00

This is the time of year in which my Nonna memories are the strongest. Growing up, our summers were all about visits to Italy ... or Italy visiting us in the form of relatives who arrived bearing gifts, and for two weeks our home would filled with laughter, a mixture of Italian and English, and fun times.

Then, for two glorious years we actually lived in Italy, and during the summer my sister and I took turns spending an entire week with Nonna. Imagine, if you will, a doting Nonna and her nipote americana, the two of them sewing elaborate Barbie clothes, shopping, visiting relatives, and watching black and white movies in bed with the bedroom window thrown wide open to catch the evening breeze.

Especially memorable were the mornings. To beat the heat, Nonna would do most of her cooking early so that by the time I entered the kitchen, something would already be bubbling on the stove. And because it was summer, meals were lighter (who wants a heavy meal when it's hot outside?) and quick (so as not to heat up the kitchen).

Today, living in the deep south, I take my Nonna's lessons to heart. Evening meals in our family are all about fresh fruits and vegetables, grilling, and pasta with sauces that require little or no cooking (see below for a few recipes).

A fresh garden salad, a chilled glass of wine, and something like pasta al tonno can be on the table in no time.

Pasta al Tonno (a favorite in my family):
Mix one pouch of tuna packed in oil, juice of one lemon, 6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, salt, pepper, and parsley. Toss with cooked spaghetti.

Variation: Sometimes I add half a can of cannellini beans for some extra protein.

Prosciutto e Piselli:Saute a little minced onion, olive oil, and green peas. Add fresh prosciutto which has been cut into small pieces. Toss with cooked pasta.

Pasta Estiva:Cut into small pieces the following: tomatoes, black olives, capers, fresh basil, and mozzarella. Mix with olive oil. Serve on cooked pasta.

Pesto: Blend the following ingredients in a food processor until it resembles a smooth paste: 3 cups fresh basil leaves, ½ cup pine nuts, ¾ cup parsley, 2 cloves of garlic, dash of sea salt, ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil. Toss with spaghetti and top with grated parmiggiano-reggiano. (Note: pesto can have a strong flavor, but the use of parsley in this recipe gives it a lighter flavor. Also, remember to lightly coat the pasta … a little goes a long way.)

Olio, Aglio, Peperoncino:Saute minced garlic and red pepper flakes in olive oil. Remove from heat. Just before serving on pasta, mix in fresh parsley.

Finally, some words of wisdom from my zia Tiziana, who shared some of the above recipes with me: Naturalmente, ci vorrebbe sempre il grana da mettere sopra alla pasta. (Naturally, you should always have parmesan cheese to add to the pasta.)

And by the way, the stuff in the green cannister doesn’t count. Buy a chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano and grate as needed.

Buon Appetito!

7 Quick Takes of Bad Hair Days

2011-07-15T08:06:00.012-04:00

We just returned from a two week road trip. During that time my hair took it's own little vacation; that is, it went all out crazy, did nothing I asked it to, and all I can say is thank goodness for pony tails.

A Vacation of Bad Hair Days

1. We were in Virginia Beach twice. Virgina BEACH ... beach being the operative word. Humidity and ocean breezes and my hair ... Mamma Mia.

2. Went boating on the Chesapeake Bay. We explored the shores and wandered into coves. Humidity, boat spray, wind. Enough said.

3. Went tubing ... I would describe the state of my hair but, seriously, there are no words.

4. Took a tour of an Amish farm in Lancaster, PA. Sounds harmless, right? But then a HUGE thunderstorm came out of nowhere (well, it came from the west) and we took shelter in a goat shed. For half an hour we huddled in the shed with 8 goats and my rebellious hair. Note to self: next time I get caught in the rain on an Amish farm take cover in the quilting shed.

5. Drove around Gettysburg. Stopped to climb a tall observation tower to see the beautiful views. What I saw was a fast approaching storm cloud. Actually, it wasn't approaching, it had arrived. It was a long way back to our parked car.

6. Took a tour of Penn State. Not exactly raining, but a fine mist everywhere. Umbrellas don't work in misty weather and misty weather does a number on my hair.

7. Returned to Virginia Beach for two days before heading home. Sent the older boys golfing, left Timothy with Papa to work on an airplane project, and I drove to the first Beauty Salon I could find: Lee Pasquale. It sounded Italian, it was open, and walk-ins were welcome. Color, cut, shampoo (delicious head massage), style ... I walked out a new person.

And once back at Papa's house I remained inside the rest of the day:)

Now, go visit Jen for some more quick takes. She never has bad hair days, but she does have a new baby which is much, much more enjoyable.

What did the Pink Panther say ...

2011-07-13T18:55:00.007-04:00

when he stepped on an ant?

Dead ant, dead ant ... dead ant - dead ant - dead ant ...

Okay, I know that was a really, really bad joke. But I have been having violent thoughts toward ants ever since we returned home from a two week vacation and, upon unpacking, discovered ants here and there; the fact they were not everywhere had us more than a little confused about the source.

First we first discovered a few in our pantry, which floored me because I had just cleaned that pantry; in fact, take a look at my clean, organized pantry (and Mom, the pantry is empty because we haven't been here for two weeks ... I DO, TOO, FEED MY BOYS!).

Then we discovered more than a few swarming in the bread machine Papa had given us just as we were leaving Virginia Beach. It was a new machine, but it had been stored in Papa's garage so anything was possible. Was this the source of our invasion?

A few were found in a suitcase, but it had been stored under the bread machine during our trip home so we thought their presence was perfectly normal.

Two on a bathroom counter upstairs, but we transported them there. Right?

But here's where it gets mysterious: this evening I opened our freezer door and saw a pile of what looked like coffee grounds on the bottom shelf.

Except they weren't coffee grounds; they were a pile of frozen ants.

Ewww.

Nothing sticky. No crumbs. Nothing to entice them. Were they just suicidal?

I peeked into a carton of vanilla bean ice-cream and hesitated: those were vanilla bean specks, right? RIGHT?

I took a deep breath and in a fit of bravery I ... well, I vacuumed up the ants.

Then, in the middle of dinner I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thought: what if the cold put those little beasties into ant hibernation and now that they were out of the freezer there was a massive ant resurrection going on in my vacuum cleaner?

Is such a thing possible? In my near panic state Michael Crichton popped into my mind. Yikes. I jumped out of my chair, grabbed the vacuum cleaner, and threw it into the backyard.

There. I felt better.

But, just to be sure, no ice-cream for me thank-you-very-much.

I think I may have just been insulted

2011-06-28T21:34:00.005-04:00

Mom, did they have tryouts when you played volleyball in college? I mean, everyone made the team, right?

Sheesh.

Where the Boys Are

2011-06-25T08:40:00.003-04:00

The two older boys are in Lousisiana for a Catholic Youth Conference sponsored by Franciscan University in Steubenville, Ohio.

"As therefore you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so live in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving." - Colossians 2: 6 - 7

7 quick takes: The Question & Answer Version

2011-06-16T18:55:00.013-04:00

1. Who is more foolish?

My mom calls me today and asks for the phone number of my best friend, Jill ... she wants to call and thank her for the postcard she sent from Italy. I give her the number and hang up. Two seconds later the phone rings:

Hello?

Jill, this is Massimilla, Maria's mother. I wanted to thank you ...

Uhm, Mom, it's me. You called the wrong number.

But this is the number you gave me!!!

She read me back the number and, sure enough, I had given her my number ... and despite the fact that she calls me several times a day, she didn't recognize it as mine.

2. What to do when it's so hot and hasn't rained for three weeks?

Play croquet in the sprinklers ...

3. Do I feed my boys?

Even though the above photo may indicate otherwise, yes I do. I should be so blessed to have their metabolism ...

4. Can you read this?

If ever you wanted to sound Italian ... here's your chance. Read the following with an Italian accent (the opening line is Once upon a time there were three bears and the last word is City Hall).

Di Tri Berrese

Uans appona taim uas tri berrese; mamma berre, pappa berre, e beibi berre. Live inna contri nire foresta. Naise aus, no mugheggia. Uanna dei pappa, mamma, e beibi go bice, orie e furghetta locche di dorra.

Bai enne bai commese Goldilocchese. Sci garra nattingha tu du batte meiche troble. Sci puscia olle fudde daon di maute; no live cromme. Den sci gos appesterrese enne slipse in olle beddse. Bai enne bai commese omme di tri berrese, olle sannebronne enne send inne scius. Dei garra no fudde; dei garra no beddse. En uara dei goine du tu Goldilocchese? Tro erre aute inne strit? Colle pulissemenn?

Deis uas Italien berrese, enne dei slippe onne florre. Goldilocchese stei derre tri deise: dei esch erre tu meiche di beddse, sci runne omme craine tu erre mamma. Uatssiuse? Uara iu goine du? Go compleine sittiole?

5. What happened to my beautiful pansies?

Gone, gone, gone. As in, dead. They used to look like this:

6. Have my mornings been filled with the productive writing time that I had envisioned at the start of summer?

Nope.

7. What are your irrational fears?

-Getting stuck on a bridge in traffic.
-Elevators.
-Being chased ... no tag for me.

For more fun and fearless quick takes, visit Jen at Conversion Diary!

It's All in the Sauce

2011-06-13T05:26:00.000-04:00

Part I: The Disclaimer

When I was recently asked to share an authentic Italian recipe for tomato sauce, I was a little reluctant to do so for a variety of reasons, the most important one being this: Italy is divided into six geographical areas -- Northwest, Northeast, Central, Southern, Sicily, and Sardinia -- and these areas encompass 20 different regions. In each of these regions are cities, villages, and towns with countless Nonne who have THE family recipe for salsa di pomodoro (tomato sauce).

You see, now, the problem. Even within my own family every one makes tomato sauce a little differently.

Then there is the question of whether one should use fresh tomatoes from the vine or canned tomatoes, a question which always puts me on the defensive because to answer anything other than "fresh tomatoes" means taking the chance of not being thought of as a real Italian.

So, by all means, if you have a huge tomato garden use fresh tomatoes because, truthfully, it really does make a difference in consistency, taste, texture, and even the color of the sauce.

On the other hand, if your gardening consists of a few tomato plants grown in terra cotta containers on your deck (like me), then you probably don't have enough tomatoes to make a sauce. In this case, canned tomatoes work just fine.

Again, you see how things can get complicated?

So, before I go further, know that the secret behind a true, authentic Italian salsa di pomodoro is this: no one is an authority . . .and everyone is an authority.

It just depends to whom you are talking.

Part II: The Recipe for Salsa di Pomodoro

Life is a combination of magic and pasta.
-Federico Fellini

28 oz. can peeled, crushed tomatoes
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
handful of fresh basil leaves

In a saucepan, heat the garlic in olive oil (about 2 minutes). Add the tomatoes and basil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Simmer on low heat for 30 minutes.

Spoon sauce over cooked pasta. Top with freshly grated parmiggiano-reggiano.

Buon appetito!

III. In Conclusion

Tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, basil, salt and pepper ... these are all the ingredients you need for a basic tomato sauce. This sauce is light and complements almost any style pasta such as spaghetti, angel hair, or penne. It is also a sauce you can build on; for example, sometimes we add a finely grated carrot or onion for a different texture, a splash of wine for a more intense flavor, or, for a heartier dish, some ground meat. The beauty of la salsa di pomodoro is that it can stand alone, or it can be used as a foundation for more complicated recipes.

Simple, and yet not so simple.

But a wonderful reflection of the paradox that is la dolce vita.

My name is Maria, and while I like to enjoy life one cappuccino at a time, I have also been known to measure life's pleasures in terms of bowls of pasta.

It doesn't take much to make me happy ...

2011-06-11T09:10:00.005-04:00

My name is Maria, and I'm enjoying life one cappuccino at a time.

All I Need Now is a Brick Oven

2011-06-08T18:39:00.003-04:00

Pizza ... ready for the oven.

Pizza alla Margherita for Joe and me;
Pizza con Prosciutto for Joe and the older boys;
regular pepperoni (not pictured) for Timothy.

I aim to please.

My Knight in Shining Armor

2011-06-05T13:40:00.005-04:00

"Mom, are you a princess?" asks Timothy as we are driving to the beach.

Well, actually I am a queen and Daddy is the king," I reply.

A queen?!" he is indignant. "That's too old. Nope, you're a princess."

When his two older brothers start laughing, Timothy gets mad and reaches back to try and hit them.

I quickly restore peace, but secretly I am smiling.

I think he was defending my honor.

The Things We Learn About Our Parents:

2011-06-02T15:19:00.003-04:00

Nicknames for each other when they were first married:
Cipollina - Carciofina

(translation: little onion - little artichoke)

uhm ... don't ask.

Bocce in the Sand

2011-05-31T16:21:00.008-04:00

Balls of red, green, yellow and blue
We are divided into two teams of two.
Sweating, laughing, and getting tanned
We get ready to play Bocce in the sand.

Nonno and Bia aim to win the game
but Jonathan and Nicholas aim the same.
Il pallino is cast with the toss of a hand
the battle begins of Bocce in the sand.

At first it's close, the excitement is growing
with each Bocce ball they are throwing.
The teams are determined to each withstand
the drama enfolding during Bocce in the sand.

But with skill, dexterity, and a little grace
Nonno and Bia soon take first place.
People watching thought it was grand
and cheered for the champions ... of Bocce in the sand.

~from the files of very bad poetry by Bia

The Cursing Nonna

2011-05-30T09:31:00.006-04:00

This afternoon we will be meeting my parents for a week-long vacation at Myrtle Beach. The boys are excited; they love vacationing with Nonna and Nonno for a host of reasons, some of which include the fact that Nonno and Nonna always side with them, that Nonno will sometimes break out in a funny song from his childhood about a whisky river and a duck, and that Nonna curses.

That's right ... curses. But it's not what you think.

You see, my Mom, who is always the first one up, will immediately make a cappuccino. She is not quiet about it: cabinet doors are slammed, microwave is whirring, refrigerator is opened and closed, milk frother is humming ... there is a definite process to making a cappuccino, and it is not a quiet one.

The funny thing is that Nonna thinks she is being quiet (and that's funny as in ironic and not funny as in ha, ha ... remember, it's early).

Anyway,fifteen minutes later she then goes outside to sit on the patio or balcony and, holding her steaming cappuccino in both hands, she will say her morning prayers.

Or does she? A few years ago the boys heard her whispering in the early morning, and the cursing legend was born.

The boys think it's terribly funny that the same Nonna who goes to Mass every single day, may actually be muttering curses over her morning cappuccino. What is she really whispering? It's a question they bring up every vacation and, for some reason, when they try and spy on her the whispers get louder and louder.

A singing Nonno and a cursing Nonna ... vacations are never dull.

Nonna & Nonno during our Mad Hatter Dinner - Myrtle Beach 8/09

7 quick takes: the bad joke at the end

2011-05-27T06:33:00.009-04:00

1. One of my greatest joys in life is walking out on my back deck and picking fresh basil. It's insane the amount of basil I use.

2. Today is the last day of school. Some Moms cry because kids will be home all summer, but I cry in relief that this month is finally, finally over. Graduation, recitals, reports, parties, presentations ... all finished. Enough said.

3. This week, exactly one year ago, we were doing our final packing for our family trip to Italy. I am feeling a little nostalgic for this...

and this...

and let's not forget this.

4. This summer I am working on a special writing project. Please, every once in a while ask me how it's going ... I need the pressure to stay on task.

5. Whenever things get hectic around here, my exercise routine goes out the window. But today … no more.

6. So, there was once this Italian Nonna who spoke very broken English. One of the things that always confused everyone was that she pronounced Tuesday and Thursday the same way: Thoosday.

One day she announces that her sister is visiting on Thoosday.

Her grown son says with a grin, Which Thoosday are you talking about … Tuesday or Thursday?

She gives him the eye.

The one next to Wednesday, stupido! And she whacks him on the head.

7. We are headed to Myrtle Beach on Monday. And just so there's no confusion ... that’s the Monday next to Thoosday.

Go visit Jen at Conversion Diary for more quick takes!

Boys ... About as Uncomplicated as You Can Get

2011-05-25T14:36:00.013-04:00

Now that our recent graduate has all this freedom, he and a few friends decide to get a group together to go and see an afternoon movie. After a flurry of phone calls, and once the dust settles, the group consists of three guys and three girls.

Even numbers ... very clever.

To kill time before leaving, Jonathan and his two buddies play some serious basketball in our driveway. They play hard for almost an hour, and then pile into the car smelling like ... well, like boys who have been playing basketball in 95 degree weather in the middle of the afternoon. Not serious body odor, but ...

Okay. They smell like dogs.

On the other hand, I am sure that the girls (and correct me if I am wrong) have spent at least two hours calling each other, planning outfits, taking showers, and styling their hair.

The only hair styling going on with the guys is them sticking their faces right next to the air conditioning vents to cool off.

Hey guys, I say as I drive. You know, before you meet girls at the movies maybe it's not such a good idea to get quite so sweaty.

They are thinking about this, I can tell. One even sniffs his armpit.

Without saying anything, I pull out a packet of Lemon Scented Wet Ones and they begin seriously wiping faces, arms, legs, and even their hair. They don't have a comb (I was NOT going to give them mine), so they use their fingers to, basically, not improve matters whatsoever.

A few minutes later I watch them walk into the theater: one has a giant hole in his sneaker partially covered with duct tape, the other is wearing shorts with a shirt that doesn't match, and the last one's hair is sticking straight up on one side.

They are joking, laughing, more than a little goofy, and very loveable.

Amazingly, they smell like lemons.

Jonathan in the Middle

2011-05-23T23:27:00.005-04:00

Dear Jonathan,

Stuck in the middle, you often don't get the attention you deserve.

Your older brother has all the firsts, leading the way in being the first to graduate, first to drive, first to get a job.

Your younger brother is the baby and gets everyone's attention for having the lasts: last to go through kindergarten, last to lose a front tooth, the last to still leave cookies for Santa Claus.

And there you are, bookended by your brothers.

But today is all about you as you graduate from St. Mary's and head off the Aquinas in the fall. We celebrate your passion for sports, your independence, and your cute dimples. Although sometimes quiet, you are charming and witty. Most importantly, you have a good sense of who you are, Jonathan, which is a real blessing.

We love you and we celebrate you.

Bacioni,
Mom, Dad, Nicholas and Timothy

Remember to always proclaim your rarity and celebrate your uniqueness; to use wisely your freedom of choice; and to go the extra mile by doing more than just what is expected.

I Had a Dream and it Made Me Mad

2011-05-22T07:08:00.007-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I was on the internet when I stumbled across a trailer for the 1995 version of Pride & Prejudice. It was the scene in which Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth; they are standing in the rain, the proposal is insulting, Elizabeth gets mad, then Mr. Darcy gets mad, and the entire scene is just, oh, I don't know, delicious.

Anyway, it triggered a dream last night. For those of you who don't already know this about me, I have vivid dreams. I dream in technicolor; in fact, if my dreams were on television, it would be one with a wide screen, high definition, and 3-D capabilities.

My dream began at this point: I am in a small restaurant with a group of people I have known a long time. Also in the group is a French man who, everyone knew, liked me most ardently (word from the P & P trailer). There was a sense of excitement in the air because he was returning to France in two weeks, and everyone knew he was going to say something to me very soon.

One by one all my friends leave until it is just the two of us. There is a candle glowing on the table. He seems nervous, which makes me nervous, and my heart starts pounding. He takes my hand and (remember, I have vivid dreams) his hands are cold.

Maria, he says with his French accent. You know how I feel. Here, look what I have.

By now I am really nervous as he reaches behind him and pulls out ... a large manila envelope. He opens it, pulls out a stack of papers and hands them to me.

It is important to know one another, he says, gesturing to the stack.

Not really understanding, I look at the papers. Typed neatly, page after page, are questions such as What is your favorite color? What goals do you have? Do you like to cook?

I get a sinking feeling and I am more than just a little sad. I continue to look through the questions, not saying anything, as he talks and talks. When he finishes, I tap the papers into a neat stack, stand up, and hand them back.

This is an application. I am not applying for a job, I say. Then I slowly walk out of the restaurant and out of my dream.

I wake up and I am mad.

Most ... ardently ... mad.

Saturday Morning Chore: Sorting Legos!!

2011-05-21T14:36:00.004-04:00

And we survived ... barely.

7 quick takes: Stream of Consciousness Edition

2011-05-20T02:34:00.005-04:00

1. Yesterday I saw something interesting: a woman approached a crosswalk, pushed the button, and then waited for the light to turn green. She waited and waited. There were no cars in sight. She pushed the button again. Five minutes passed. Now, maybe it's just me, but I would have crossed that street in a New York minute. How about you?

2. And because of the Italian in me, I probably would have crossed that street even if there had been a red light and even if there had been cars. Ever try to cross a street in Rome? It's a free for all.

3. Speaking of cars in Rome, I love how they parallel park.

4. Today my son is going with his 8th grade class to Carowinds Amusement Park. These are the snacks he's bringing for the bus drive: Haribo Gummy Bears, Cola Gummies, Slim Jims, and a bottled water.

5. Haribo Gummy Bears are my all time favorite candy, and chocolate covered raisins are not far behind.

6. The only time I ever eat chocolate covered raisins is when I go to the movies. I get a box, and then tell myself that I will not eat a single one until after the movie starts. But I don't listen to myself very well ... I always finish the entire box before the previews are even over.

7. Then again, sometimes I don't get the chocolate covered raisins at all because I smuggle in my own snacks. Really? Yes, yes I do. I have been known to pack into my largest purse an entire bag of microwave popcorn, a bottled water, and two paper towels; of course, I am terribly aware of the popcorn smell that is wafting from me when I purchase the ticket, but I haven't been stopped yet.

Now, go visit Jen at Conversion Diary for some more quick takes fun.

Modesty for Boys? You Bet!

2011-05-18T08:29:00.012-04:00

How beautiful then is modesty and what a gem among virtues it is.
-St. Bernard

Up until recently, whenever the topic of modesty came up -- whether in conversation or out in the blogging world -- I always breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have girls; in fact, I pretty much ignored the topic.

I was even a little smug about it: I am so lucky to have boys ... at least this is one thing I won't have to worry about.

But I was wrong, wrong, wrong.

The same societal influences which send mixed messages to girls, also affect boys. Victoria's Secret, Abercrombie & Fitch, Calvin Klein, and even the outfits on Dancing with the Stars not only influence how girls view themselves, but also how boys view girls.

Yikes. Did my boys value modesty in girls? Did they see it as a quality to look for when they begin dating?

Now, I appreciate fashion trends; I understand the current style of short skirts, for example, but there is short ... and there is short, and I would venture to guess that most of you know very well what the difference is between the two.

But did my boys?

I began with our sixteen year old. At this age they can be moody (shocking, I know) so I waited until we were leaving his National Honor Society Induction Ceremony -- when he was feeling really, really good -- to bring up the subject. I even handed him the keys of the car to let him drive us home (sidebar: whenever you want to get your teenage son to talk, let him drive ... it works wonders).

So, what are your thoughts on modesty? I asked, without any subtlety whatsoever.

Modesty ... as in how you dress? he replied.

It wasn't an elegant start, but it progressed from there and during the drive home we talked about body image, respect, and what qualities to look for in a friend and, yes, even in a girlfriend. We used words like virtue, honor, value; we discussed the messages we send with our dress, our posture, our demeanor, and even our manners.

The conversation even segued into modesty of athletic ability, modesty of academic accomplishments, modesty of speech. It was a good discussion, and I am grateful we had it.

And yes, we even spoke about the difference between short and short.

Modesty for boys. Who knew?

One son down, two to go ...

Sometimes Sunday Night Mass Isn't a Good Idea

2011-05-15T20:25:00.005-04:00

Timothy, in his own words during Sunday night Mass:

I'm tired.

My stomach hurts.

I'm thirsty.

I need to go to the bathroom.

I can't kneel because of the scab on my knee.

How much longer?

I'm bored.

I'm tired.

Poor little guy ... busy day and a busy weekend. Guess who was in bed half an hour after getting home?

Cotton Candy, Bug Juice, and ... a Tattoo??

2011-05-13T15:28:00.008-04:00

1. We're back from our overnight trip to Atlanta and let me begin by setting the record straight: no tattoo (see previous post). Sorry folks, my mom would kill me.

2. Phillips Arena before the Hawks game. Everyone attending last night's game received a free t-shirt. Free stuff makes me happy.

3. Although we were seated in the middle tier, our mid-court view was fantastic. The only thing was that I could feel our seats vibrating/shaking whenever people went up and down the stairs. Tizi? I was thinking of you!

4. Cotton Candy. Now you see it ...

5. Now you don't. The elapsed time between photos is less than five minutes ... I think he inhaled the stuff.

6. The first thing we did upon returning home was to stop at a gas station and wash the car front windshield. The 13-year cicadas are still here, and flying cicadas and a car on the interstate ... well, let's just say there was bug juice everywhere.

7. Finally, my favorite thing about Timothy's artwork below is the title: Sheep.

That's it ... not Frolicking Sheep, or Sheep in a Meadow, or even Happy Sheep.

No, just Sheep.

THE END

For more quick takes fun, visit Jen at Conversion Diary.

Rocker Hair, Tattoos, and Playing Hooky

2011-05-11T22:33:00.000-04:00

When our eldest graduated from middle school, part of his graduation present was an overnight trip to Atlanta with Mom and Dad. Without his two younger brothers around, he was the center of attention: we checked into our hotel, we dined in a nice restaurant, and - get ready for this - we went to an Aerosmith concert.

Yes, you heard correctly, Aerosmith. With ZZ Top as the opening act.

It was held in an open air arena, and to say that it was blistering hot is putting it mildly. We sweated and we sweated.

But that evening I realized that I wanted rocker hair just like Joe Perry. Hair a tad wild, but stylish and oh! so cool. I came home and talked and talked about Joe Perry's hair until my sister told me that my hair looks like that every time we go to the beach.

Sheesh, thanks a lot, sis.

Anyway, I still smile when I think of that concert and I still smile when I think of Joe Perry. (Shocking!)

But wait, there's more.

In a little over a week our middle son, Jonathan, will be graduating and he, too, will get his overnight trip to Atlanta with Mom and Dad; in fact, we are going tomorrow. This time, though, it won't be a concert but an Atlanta Hawks basketball game.

Our son is over the moon with excitement. He lives and breathes basketball, and the fact that he'll miss school on Friday just makes everything that much sweeter.

But I've been thinking ... basketball.

Basketball players don't have rocker hair, but they do have tattoos. Lots and lots of tattoos.

Hmmm.

Hmmm.

Let's leave it at that, shall we?

My New Best Friend

2011-05-10T10:50:00.000-04:00

And the best part? It really does only take 10 minutes.

In His Own Words ...

2011-05-07T20:19:00.003-04:00

My nephew, Thomas, on his First Communion experience: The bread tasted like plastic and the wine burned my mouth.

And which one is my nephew? Why, the only one looking at me and not at the professional photographer:)