Speak to Me Sunday: Remembering When

Last night at Mass, Timothy opened up my both my missalette and his to the correct readings, something he always does whenever he's not altar serving and can sit in the pew with us. It's a sweet gesture from a 6' 2" fifteen-year-old with scraped knees from playing soccer earlier that afternoon, and it transported me to a place of remembering when ...

Timothy is busy. He's dragging a stool, rummaging in the drawer for a cloth napkin, lining up kitchen chairs, and looking for a plastic cup. He asks me for a prayer card.

He announces that it is time for church and everyone has to come. RIGHT NOW.

He means business.

We sit in chairs before his makeshift altar. He lifts his hands and says please rise and sets mad at his older brother who is a little slow in responding. Vanilla wafers are the host. Water is the wine. He makes us say the Our Father and the Prayer to St. Francis. When his brother asks for another vanilla wafer, Timothy tells him to be quiet.

Then, he blesses us and tells us to go in peace.

And calls us back in ten minutes to do it all again.

Original post from 2009, but re-visited today.

How Guys Pack (A Once Upon a Time Story)

Here's a story about Jonathan. I'm only posting it because he's received a lot of sympathy recently due to the extraction of his wisdom teeth this morning. But he's good with four less teeth because Jonathan is a MINIMALIST. Less is best. Why have extra teeth when four less will do?

Allow me to illustrate: this same cute, adorable Jonathan came home for the holidays and left half of his clothes back at school. Anyone else would have been scrambling to beg, borrow, or buy items of clothing, but not Jonathan. He had what he needed; besides, less clothes meant less packing and unpacking. So he's basically been wearing the same few outfits on repeat the entire time he's been home. Wear, wash, repeat. 

But I'm learning to look at the bright side. At least he came home with SOME clothes because ONCE UPON A TIME he didn't ...


Last weekend Jonathan came home for my birthday. He arrived Saturday before lunchtime and had plans to leave Sunday after lunch. (See what he did there? Impeccable meal timing.)

When he first walked in the door we chatted for a few minutes, after which I told him to go get his stuff out of the car.

"I don't have anything." he responded.

I stopped dead in my tracks. He was holding his phone, keys, and wallet. Nothing else.

"What are you wearing later?" I inquired.

"This," he said, gesturing to the clothes on his back.

"What are you going to wear to church tonight?" I wanted to know.

"This," he said, again with the gesture.

"Tomorrow?" I asked, knowing that the odds were not in my favor.

He didn't even respond. He just grinned.

And I was like ...

When the mice are away the Christmas penguins come out to play

Most of you know that I am not a fan of Christmas yard inflatables.

Sure they look festive at night, but during the day it's like a crime scene: there are poor snowman/Santa/reindeer carcasses sprawled everywhere.

But then there is my brother-in-law who is the OPPOSITE of me in that he thinks inflatables are the BEST. In fact, he believes you can't have too many and they can't be too big. A couple of Christmases ago, while I was preparing Christmas lunch, he gathered all the kids to help him set up an inflatable IN OUR FRONT YARD. I was tricked into coming to the front door and there they were ... two Christmas penguins on a sled.

After the laughter died down I had to admit they were cute. For several years they were dutifully displayed on our back deck (better viewing from our family room), but for the past two holiday seasons they've remained in their box in the attic because I've been rotating our Christmas decorations and their rotation just hasn't come up yet (really Patrick, I promise!).

Then, this past Saturday night Joe and I went out to celebrate our anniversary. We left Jonathan and Timothy home alone which, under normal circumstances, wouldn't be a problem. But evidently they had PLANS because the minute we left the house they went scrounging through the attic. Later, when Joe and I returned home, what to our wondering eyes should appear but ... 

TWO CHRISTMAS PENGUINS ON OUR FRONT PORCH. The yard spotlight was centered on them and they looked ready to sled down the porch steps. 

Again, though, those darn penguins are pretty cute.

And I guess I'm stuck with them.

The Stupid, Fun Thanksgiving Game

Meet Alfredo, the star of a wild and zany game we purchased a few years ago for a fun Thanksgiving game that could involve everyone, young and old.

Alfredo spins around on top of a plate of spaghetti, and to play the game you have to use the fork catapults to launch spaghetti and meatballs. You get points if your meatball lands on Alfredo's plates, apron or hat (all made of velcro), but you get  A LOT of points if the meatball lands on his mustache.

It's a fun game, but inevitably Alfredo gets ignored. 

It's much more fun to launch those spaghetti and meatballs at one another. 

And you get a SUPER BUNCH of points if you hit your brother.

Bought it, I did

In Publix I was, when a Yoda I spied. 

Called my name, he did, so I resisted not. How could I, hmm?  (Also a Darth Vader, there was. But him I wanted not.)

It was the two feet tall Christmas Yoda I needed, so bought him I did. 

When You Send a Guy to the Store (for Drano) ...

THIS is what he brings home.

When the Cat is Away, the Mouse Eats Nutella

This morning, as I was driving Timothy to school, I asked him if there was anything he needed at the grocery store since I was headed there later that morning.

"Nutella," he answered promptly. "We're completely out."

So I added it to the list.

Later, though, as I was reaching for a jar of Nutella on the top shelf of the grocery store, I experienced a strong sense of deja vu. Wait a minute. Didn't I just purchase a large jar of Nutella not ten days ago? Why yes, yes I did. So when I picked up Timothy later that day I put him through the Nutella Inquisition. Where did that jar of Nutella go? The jar that was Costco-sized ... all 2.2 lbs of it?

And he confessed.

It seems that while I was in Arkansas for five days Timothy considered Nutella to be an essential part of the Food Pyramid:

Nutella on toast. Breakfast!
Nutella on sliced bread. Lunch!
Nutella with Ritz crackers. Afternoon snack!
Nutella on a spoon. Bedtime snack!

I just looked at him and thought of 2.2 lbs. of Nutella gone just like that.

Sometimes, there are just no words ... you know?

Two for One 'Brffed Day'

Our son, Jonathan, is coming home this weekend.

It's his BIRTHDAY weekend.

Except, it's not really his birthday. It's later this month. But he has plans on his actual day that don't involve mom and dad (say what?), so he's coming home now so we can celebrate with family.

But yesterday, as I planned meals for the weekend, wrapped presents, cleaned his room and bathroom, and spent over an hour at the grocery store to stock our pantry, it dawned on me that I have a very smart son.

You see, as much as we will celebrate this weekend, as much as Jonathan will be pampered and coddled and loved on over the next few days, I will still feel the need to acknowledge his actual birthday later this month. I mean, he can't get nothing on his actual birthday!

So I will send him a care package.

On his birthday.

Which isn't this weekend.

This sweet little guy will turn 22 years old on his brffed day.

If you take a teen to the grocery store ...

If you take a teen to the grocery store, poof! magical things happen:

~Pop Tarts, sour popsicles, and strawberry soda poof! appear in your cart.

~Things like broccoli, lettuce, whole grains poof! disappear out of your cart.

~Cereals transform: Cheerios turn into Frosted Flakes 

and Raisin Bran into Cocoa Krispies. poof! poof!

If you take a teen to the grocery store, it won’t be a quick trip.

~You will be distracted.

~Your grocery list will no longer mean anything; in fact, poof! it disappears.

~You will say no and put it down countless times.

If you take a teen to the grocery store, he will find hidden treasures.

~Like these, nestled between the candy bars in the check-out lane.
One for him, one for me.

And I am thinking ...

If you take a teen to the grocery store,

you'll be so glad you did.

Do I embarrass my boys?

Who me?

No. Never. 

Well, sometimes it happens accidentally.

But no.

Okay yes, but only when I do it on purpose ... like what I did this morning.

You see, yesterday my sister wanted me to check out her new website, Alleluia Rocks, to test one of her new features -- a subscription button that, if you filled it out, would automatically send you two sheets of free lunchbox printables. So I did it, and it worked! I printed out these cute free printables ...

But now that I had these cute printables, what to do with them?

Well, about that whole embarrassing-my-boys-thing. Guess who will find a cute elephant in his lunchbox, tucked in the middle of a sandwich baggie filled with corn chips, with a message that says Remember: You are loved. Not only that, but on the drive to school we were joking and I said, "Oh Timo. Remember that you are loved. These are important words. They may come back to haunt you ... in  a good way."

I'm going to be in so much trouble. 

The Fine Art of Potty Words

Last night during our second walk, Timothy and I were talking about high school. We discussed homework, organization, school sports, bullies, and how to find someone to sit with during lunch on the first day of school.


"Let's stop talking about school," he said abruptly. "Let's talk about rainbows, unicorns, and fluffy bunny rabbits."


Oh, he gave me a good laugh. Just like when he was seven years old and taught me the fine art of potty words ...


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

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

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

Apparently I was set up.


And so it continued until we arrived to school. As he got out of the car I thought, "Oh, those poor teachers."


When I got home, I headed straight for my espresso machine.

"How do you spell cappuccino?" I asked myself, as I scooped coffee grounds and steamed the milk.

"Let's see, c-a-p-p ..."


and I laughed and laughed.

a cappuccino in positano, italy

Speak to Me Sunday, vol. 16 (I know nothing about parenting, but I will tell you the nothing I know)

With our two older sons out of the house, my husband and I are grateful we still have the bambino, the caboose, my baby. Except, the bambino-caboose-baby is 14 years old and taller than I am. He’s also venturing into that vast wasteland of mood swings and attitude better known as the teen years. But this time, after having gone through this twice (and survived!), we know what to expect. We are better prepared. We will know how to handle everything from caveman speech to missed curfews. Right? RIGHT?  Help me out here, because when I stumbled upon this old post I'm not so sure …

After a week of enduring what I referred to as Caveman Syndrome from the older boys – grunts, monosyllabic words, slouchy posture – I embraced my limitations and browsed several Catholic Parenting Web sites for advice.

One site emphasized how the responsibility for developing a healthy parent-child relationship rests primarily with the parent; that (like it or not) it's really up to us to keep the peace and maintain open lines of communication.

Okay, I get that. We’re the adults, we’re mature, we need to take the higher road. In other words, we are bigger than they are. So then, I would keep my communication lines WIDE OPEN.

Then there were the Old Testament references to the "rod of discipline” (Prov. 13:24; 23: 13-14) which, in the New Testament, becomes the staff used by shepherds, not as punishment, but as a way to corral and guide wayward sheep.

What a beautiful image. That’s exactly what my husband and I are trying to do as parents – guide our son in the ways of the world. Be a shepherd to sheep.

Unfortunately, as I was letting this beautiful image run through my mind, I happened to glance at my watch. The time in which my son, who had gone out with friends, was supposed to call home to check in had come and gone.  No phone call whatsoever.

It’s hard to keep open lines of communication when THEY FORGET TO CALL HOME.

Truthfully, in that very moment, I just wanted to take that rod, or shepherd’s staff, or whatever, and whack my son over the head with it.

How's that for a title? Not Sheep in the Meadows or Frolicking Sheep.

No, just ... Sheep. 

The Winning Drive

Most Fridays Joe drives Timothy to school just so they can hear the 92.7 WKSX sports trivia question.

Today's question: "The NFL and AFC Championship games are this Sunday and winners go to the Super Bowl. What are the trophies given to the winners of those games?"

Answer: George S. Halas and Lamar Hunt trophies

Now, did you know that? Joe did. He is a whiz at sports, music, and history trivia. Timothy, official telephone dialer, was thrilled ... especially when they announced their names on air.

Today they won a baseball style jersey, a 2018 Farmer's Almanac, and a $10 restaurant voucher.

This wasn't their first win. They also won exactly 35 days ago ... only because they are limited to one win a month ;-)

If you give a boy an old grill ...

which was broken and headed for the dump ...
and told him to salvage any parts he wanted ...


he will.


#HeWasBusyAllAfternoon

Horsin' Around

How many letters are there in the word, Horse?


Five.


How many plays did it take for me to get eliminated in a basketball game of Horse?


Five.


Enough said.

Your Guess is as Good as Mine

This morning we packed our van and headed to Clemson to visit Nicholas. And when I say packed our van, I mean it: two new pillows, a foam mattress pad, a case of Propel water, his electric guitar and amplifier, groceries, and some pots and pans because (surprise, surprise) he wants to do more cooking. I also brought a crock-pot of chili and all the fixings for chili dogs so we could all have lunch together, as well as a birthday cake so we could have a pre-birthday celebration for Jonathan.


Great day. This year Nicholas and his roommate are living in a duplex, so it was fun poking around to see how they are with the housekeeping. All good, except ... well ... I leave you with the following photo:

Why are the toilet paper rolls lined up on the toilet tank?


A. Nicholas and his roommate are keeping track of how much toilet paper they use.
B. They are planning an arts & crafts project involving toilet paper rolls.
C. There isn't a trash can in the bathroom.
D. No reason, except they're guys.

Doctor who?

It's funny how God made boys.


Take our guy, for example. He likes to pick up dead bugs, has to be reminded to use soap (and shampoo) in the shower, and uses the words silent but deadly, atomic, and machine gun to classify you-know-what.


And yet, he gets totally squeamish with blood and guts.


Last year, the fourth grade science chapters dealing with the systems of the body totally grossed him out ... especially the digestive system. All that food digesting and moving through twisted, coiled intestines was enough to make him gag. Then the very fact that the large intestine could be up to five feet long just about did him in. Of course, we all found this terribly funny. It got to the point when we would just yell "Intestines!" and he would clutch his stomach in horror.


Yesterday I picked him up from school, and right away I could see something was up.


"Mom," he gravely announced. "Today was so gross. In science we studied ..."


And he paused because he had to swallow hard.


"We studied tendons!" he continued.


"What's wrong with tendons?" I asked. "We all have them."


"I know," he responded between gulps. "But they are stretchy, like a rubber band. That just makes my skin crawl."


Oh dear Lord, I think, please help me not to laugh.


Today wasn't much better. Evidently, in science they watched an educational video about cells and a doctor cuts a piece of skin (a skin graft?) and looks at it through a microscope to show the different kinds of cells. Oh the horror. He actually looks pale.


"Well, you know, you have cells right now swimming all over you," I inform him. "You can't see them, but they're there."


"STOP TALKING ABOUT IT!" he yells. "I'M TRYING TO EAT MY OREO COOKIES!"


Like I said, there's no telling how God made boys. Snips and snails and puppy dogs' tails ... and a whole lot of stuff in between.

A Day in the Life of a Boy
by Norman Rockwell

A Morning Conversation, BC (before cappuccino)

Timothy: Top Gear is, like, my favorite show. Both the American and the British one. I want a Lamborghini. Or maybe a Bentley. Do you know how fast a dragster goes? Well, it's like 220 miles an hour, or something. A Bugatti is cool, too. Let me see your iPhone and I'll show you a picture.

Me: Look. No more talking about cars. Between football and cars ... talk about other things.


Timothy: You just say that because you don't like cars. What kind of cars do you like, anyway?


Me: Smart Cars, Fiats, and Mini Coopers.


Timothy is speechless. How uncool could his mom be?


Me: Oh, and I also like vintage Vespas.


Timothy sighs. He has a lot of work to do to catch me up to speed.





NOTE: All these photos of smart cars were taken by yours truly when we were in Italy three years ago. It became a game. When we got home Timothy and I made a poster of all the Smart Cars we saw on our trip. Also note the last one ... a Red Cross Smart Car.

Priceless Memories (well, there was some cost involved, but still)

You would think that when a college student comes home for spring break there would be no cost involved.


Yeah, right.


Our son came home, announced that he's been invited to a formal in Milwaukee (yes, the Milwaukee in Wisconsin), and can-we-please-have-pity-on-him-because-he's-somewhat-broke-but-this-summer-he-has-an-internship-and-doesn't-that-count-for-something. Huh. He was pretty charming, though, as he made his case.


-one airplane ticket (No cost here ... Dad's frequent flyer miles!)
-a suit (A good suit is an investment! I'll use it for job interviews!)
-a fitted dress shirt (My arms are freakishly long; I need one that fits.)
-a bow tie (I don't know how to tie one, but I'll google it!)
-a black belt (The one I have is pretty crappy.)
-various toiletries in travel sizes (What's the rule? 15 ounces?)




And then, because he has impeccable timing, this happened ...




This is his actual cell phone.

I'm sure you're curious. Well, our smart college student (engineering major) was in the laundry room waiting for me to get my purse because we were going shopping for items 2-6 (see above), and for some inexplicable reason decided to jump to see if he could reach the ceiling (mind you, we have 10-foot ceilings). He leaped, his cell phone flew out of his pocket, and it landed face down on the ceramic tile.


There. are. no. words.


Fortunately, Peter at 10,000 Cell Phones had pity on Nicholas and took $15 off the standard $75 fee for a new iPhone screen. Why?  Because Nicholas liked them on Facebook, wrote a Google review, and endorsed their business on Yelp.


Good man, that Peter.


Later, my husband made the comment that it was a good thing for his wallet that Nicholas was leaving on Sunday; that it was actually cheaper to have him away at college. He was smiling when he said it, but somehow I don't think he was joking.

All kidding aside, we had a lovely, lovely week with our eldest son. Long conversations, laughter, stories. We created some wonderful memories, and that's something you can't put a price tag on. Ever.


Nicholas and Megan (she who is in Milwaukee)



Embarassing Jonathan

Poor Jonathan. Tonight Timothy and I decided to go visit him at Arby's, and whenever we do that we always manage to embarrass him. For example, when Jonathan had been working at Arby's for less than a week and was still training on the cash register, we all went there for dinner and placed a large order using coupons. Uhm ... the coupons complicated things to such an extent that a manager had to be called over.


Then there was the time that the entire family showed up en masse (with Nonna and Nonno!), and Nonna kept telling everyone that he was her grandson. Jonathan turns really, really red when people make a fuss about him.


So tonight, since we knew Jonathan would be working drive-thru, Timothy and I suddenly decided that we wanted dessert. Jonathan has only recently been trained to do drive-thru, so on the way there we were laughing and imagining how his voice would sound over the intercom.


"We won't understand him," said Timothy, who knows how his brother likes to mumble. "He'll sound like this: 'Welcome to Arbys ... mumble, mumble, mumble ... order?'"


So anyway, we had plans. The problem was deciding which would be better:


1. Pull up to the intercom, and when he asks for our order say "What?" and "Can you speak louder?" and "What was that again?"


or


2. Pull up to the intercom and loudly, so the entire restaurant can hear, yell, "Hi, Jona-baby!"


Unfortunately, when we pulled into the parking lot we noticed Jonathan eating in the dining room. Darn it. He was on his dinner break. I drove around the restaurant THREE times hoping he would finish and go back to his post, but no such luck.


So we parked, went in, and sat across from him in the booth and watched him eat his dinner. Oh the questions we asked him! How does the headset work? Do you disinfect it between shifts? How long is your break? What are you eating? Can I have a French fry? And a sip of your soda? I may be imagining things, but I think he was eating faster and faster just so he could get back to work and get away from us.


But he wasn't too annoyed because after his break I walked up to the counter and ordered a Mint Chocolate Swirl Shake (with Andes chocolate!) to go, and even though Jonathan was back in drive-thru he came over and insisted on making it himself. He makes a pretty good milkshake, if I do say so myself.

P.S. And as long as I'm talking about Jonathan ... Last week during our horrific, catastrophic ice storm, Arby's managed to open their doors about mid-afternoon on Friday and it wasn't long before a line formed out the door with people wanting to come in to warm up and order a hot meal. Jonathan was one of only THREE employees who worked from four in the afternoon until midnight. He was there during the earthquake and when the water tower at the Augusta National was freakishly leaking.