Anyone?

Okay, how many of you are having fish sticks for dinner?

Boys will be Men

Our 8th grader, who is as cute as can be, has been concerned lately. It seems that all the boys have had a growth spurt except for him. All the boys have gotten taller, except for him. All the boys have muscles, except for him.

The fact that Dad is 6'4" brings him no comfort. He wants to be tall now. He want muscles now.

Height we can't help him with, but muscles . . .

So, exactly one month ago my husband put him on a 3-4 times a week weight training program . . . they even took "before" measurements.

Tonight, one month later, they took the "after" measurements.

The results:
biceps increased by 3/8ths of an inch;
neck, by 1/2 inch;
pride (his and Dad's), off the charts.

Panda vs. Rocky, Round One

Our four year old, Timothy, got into an argument with his five year old cousin, Thomas, this weekend.

Evidently, they were playing hide-and-seek and Thomas decided he didn't want to be "it". So they argued back and forth about this until Timothy yells, "You're out!" - baseball and hide-and-seek are one and the same, you see.

Well, Thomas was insulted. He took a huge breath, jumped up in the air . . . and landed in a Kung Fu Panda pose.

Timothy, who hasn't seen King Fu Panda but who does have older brothers, took a huge breath, jumped up in the air . . . and landed in a boxer's stance.

So there they were . . . Kung Fu Panda and Rocky Balboa, standing three feet apart staring each other down.

And what was Jonathan, the-family-giggler-who-is-twelve-and-supposed-to-be-supervising, doing?

Rolling in the grass laughing his head off.

I'm Stupid, I know

This past Friday I had a 10:00 appointment for a haircut. So, after the boys left for school I spent 45 minutes washing, blow drying, and styling my hair.

This is what I told myself: I want the stylist to see how I usually fix my hair.

So I went to the salon, where she proceeded to spend 45 minutes washing, cutting, blow drying, and styling my hair.

When I got home this is what I told myself: I love, love, love the haircut, but I do not like the way she styled it.

So, before I picked the boys up from school, I spent 45 minutes washing, blow drying, and re-styling my hair.

This is what I told myself: I had to make sure I could style this new haircut. My sister's baby shower is tomorrow . . . I had to practice.

Later, this is what my husband asked: So, what did you do today?

This is what I told myself: Don't answer that question.

Sharing an Idea

Here's something we did as a family last year for Lent, and the boys got so into it that we are doing again this year.

I printed out black & white drawings of the Stations of the Cross, mounted them on black paper, and taped them across our mantle. Above each station I placed a votive candle.

During family prayer time, each person reads a station, then walks to the mantle and blows out the corresponding candle. At the last station, when the last candle is blown out, we sit in darkness for a couple of minutes in silent contemplation.

On Easter Sunday, we read the 15th station and, instead of blowing out a candle, we light a decorated Easter candle to symbolize Jesus' resurrection and the joy and celebration of the Easter season.

I found that praying the Stations this way encourages active participation; that by lighting candles and then blowing them out we become part of a ritual as old as time itself.

And in case you're wondering where to get those Stations . . . why, click here.

Everyone needs a Zio Luciano

I have an Italian Zio (uncle) who is exactly how you would imagine an Italian Zio to be: Luciano is larger than life, funny, generous, and can sing and play the guitar. He loves to eat, loves to cook, and . . . did I mention that he's funny?

Once, when we were about 17 people sitting around a table, he started teasing my mother, Massimilla, the eldest of three sisters. He then announced:

The whole of Christianity would have been different if instead of asking the people "Jesus or Barabbas?" they had asked "Jesus or Massimilla?" . . . I tell you, everyone would have said Jesus and then Christianity would have taken an entirely different course.

I cannot tell you how much we laughed.

Last year when my best friend and I were in Rome we met up with my parents who were passing through on the way to Sicily. One night the four of us took two seminarians studying in Rome out to dinner, and I happened to mention Luciano's joke. The seminarians laughed so hard and so long, which made us laugh, and really, no one could stop.

Luciano also has incredible musical talent. He played the guitar in church, in bands, and even cut his own record. Because of him, I received a guitar in the 6th grade and I still have it and play it to this day.

Yes, everyone should have a Zio Luciano . . . but I'm glad this Zio is mine.

Buon Compleanno, Luciano!

Butterfly Kisses Make My Monday

Our four-year-old has been very generous with his affection lately. When I am working on the laptop, or reading, or in the kitchen cooking he wraps his arms around my neck and gives me a series of very sweet butterfly kisses on my cheek.

Yesterday we had this conversation:

Timothy: I'm going to kiss you. (and he does)

Me: Thank you so much! Now, how about Daddy?

Timothy: No, I can't kiss him . . . he's not a girl.

Me: Hmmm. How about Nicholas and Jonathan?

Timothy: No . . . they're not girls either.

There is a pause.

Timothy: Nope, you're the only girl in the house so you get all my kisses.

And that's what Makes My Monday . . . . kisses all for me.

(Now, go visit Cheryl for some more Makes My Monday fun.)