Three Great Kid Picks

I'm always on the look out for crowd pleasing children's books and recently I stumbled across three I adore.  In no particular order, here they are:

1.  Story of Ruby Bridges:  Ruby was a six-year old African American child integrated into an all white public school in New Orleans, Louisiana circa the 1960's.    Outraged by the decision, all the white parents pulled their children out of school for the entire year and staged daily morning protests.  Because they feared for Ruby's safety in the midst of angry mob, Federal Marshals escorted her every morning.

The most amazing part of this true story is both the tremendous courage little Ruby displays in the face of hatred and anger, but also her prayers for her persecutors.  When her teacher asks Ruby why she randomly stops outside the school building one morning to talk to the mean protesters, Ruby tells her, "I wasn't talking...I was praying for them."

Everyday, both before and after her encounters with the mob, Ruby offered the same words to her heavenly Father:

"Please, God, try to forgive those people
Because even if they say those bad things,
They don't know what they're doing.
So You could forgive them.
Just like You did those folks a long time ago
When they said terrible tings about You."

I want to be brave like Ruby and I want to forgive like she does.  I wept as I finished reading this to Mary Bernadette.  I highly recommend this one, especially if you're looking for good gifts for little girls.

2.  The Man Who Walked Between The Towers:  I vaguely recall hearing about the true story of Phillipe Petit, the man who rigged a tightrope across the Twin Towers in New York and walked it.  This children's book tell his exiting and stomach-dropping story in easy to read language.  It's a page-turner with impressive illustrations that kept me wondering if Petit was a crazy man or just a master at his craft.   I think he might have been both.  Boys will especially love this adventure and it is indeed an enthralling adventure.

3.  The Selfish Giant by Oscar Wilde:  When I stumbled across this book on the shelves of our local library, I added it to our stack because I recognized it from when I was a kid.  I remembered I liked the tale but I couldn't recall the main events aside from the fact that the giant owned a garden.  When we read it yesterday afternoon, I fell in love all over again.

Wildes' story drips with beautiful thematic content (life/death imagery) and the pictures are exquisite!  The story is about a giant who selfishly bans children from his  beautiful, enchanting garden because he no longer wants to share.  His decision to expel the children allows Frost and Snow to take up permanent residence in his backyard.  The trees no longer blossom and the birds no longer sing and the giant is alone in his selfishness.

Until one day, when the children sneak in the garden to play and the Giant watches the garden metamorphose as children scamper and the flowers bloom.  His encounter with a small boy, who needs help climbing a tree, moves him so deeply his heart is forever changed.  Though he never sees him again, the Giant loves that boy above all the other children.

The story closes when the young boy appears again in the garden.   Running to him, the Giant immediately notices prints of two nails on the boys' hands and feet.  The giant wants to know who hurt the boy so he can kill them but the boy responds, "Nay!  These are the wounds of Love."

"Who are thou?" said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.  

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, "You let me play once in your garden, today you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise."

The Giant dies and when the children find him, tree blossoms have covered his body.

I wept at this story too as it depicts the manner in which true happiness comes only from giving ourselves and our things away.  It also illustrates how Christ can move and change us.

I highly recommend this book as well.

But, hey, check them all out!  I promise, both you and your children will be edified by the pages of these books.  Happy Reading!

Does your family have any summer favorites?  If so, do share!

Sickbay

Treatment includes rest, copious hours of television viewing, lots of fluids, and mama prayers they can make it to the toilet when need arises.  We're 0 and 5 on that last one.

Kids Will Keep You Honest

Although she tries to avoid working on Sundays,  Grandma Murphy is so swamped at school she thought she would go in for a few hours yesterday to take care of odds and ends.

She felt conflicted about it, however.  It's a habit she knows isn't good and that she tries to avoid. But duty was calling and she felt compelled to answer.

Gathering her things to leave while simultaneously outlining her plans to the Colonel she was, when Patrick stood up and walked over to her directly.

"Grandma," he said very seriously.   "It's the Sabbath.  You shouldn't go to work on Sundays."

And she didn't.

Her conscience--we call him Patrick--wouldn't let her.

Simple Woman's Daybook

Outside my window...
it's a beautiful afternoon--warm, breezy, with lots of sunshine.

I am thinking...
about pool safety.  My dad opened his pool this past weekend after all the adults spent months hemming about whether or not to do so.  The fact is three of my kids are good swimmers and two are not (like, they can't).  Christopher escapes through any unlocked doors or doors not closed properly.  Plus, the older kids constantly and unintentionally let him out.  This is a major concern when water is involved.

After researching various safety devices, John and I ordered a safety turtle, a  wristband that sounds an alarm if/when it gets wet.  Christopher and Mary Bernadette are going to wear it all summer long or at least until we close the pool.  We also purchased a door alarm.  None of these things, of course, replace vigilance and adult supervision but they are a backup.

I am thankful for...
a brief get away we had this weekend.  We stayed in a fancy hotel, ate room service, and did some house hunting. 

From the kitchen...
not much.  We are doing swim lessons at 6:00 pm and it puts a major cramp in meal time.  I'm gonna try for an earlier chow session tonight but it's not always feasible what with homework, toddlers, fussy infants, etc.

I am wearing...
a jean skirt and a black blouse.  I find that no matter what I wear, I always feel messy.  It might be the fact I act as a human Kleenex to the the two babies in the house but whatever.

I am creating...
a "charitable" email to the swim team coach who cut my first grader and my kindergartner from her swim team within the first few minutes of practice.  This was such a rude and horrible experience it is laughable.

Really laughable, actually.  

My children are now registered on another swim team and we plan on having fun in the sun all summer long.

And I'm talking myself out of "practicing" on that swim coach.

I am going...
to Meaghan's Kindergarten graduation tomorrow.

I'm making promises to stay composed.

False promises presumably.

I am reading...
The Dialogue of Saint Catherine of Sienna
The Wounded Spirit

Ivy and Bean (with the kids)

I am hoping...
we well our house soon.  We finished the novena but haven't heard anything yet.  The Drudge Report's prediction of a "great, great economic depression" left me worried.

For a few minutes, anyway.

And then I thought about how Jesus takes care of the birds in the sky and how I've never been hungry and how I've always had a place to lay my head and how even if we did loose everything, I will always have what's most important: Christ and my family.

Then I wasn't so scared anymore.

Though I'm still praying a great depression doesn't happen.

I am hearing...
SpongeBob SquarePants talking.  Why do my children love him so much?

Around the house...
laundry.  It's overrun me again.

One of my favorite things...
my Nook e-reader.  I love it.  I really do.

A few plans for the rest of the week:
celebrating my rising First Grader, swim practice, and summer planning.

Here is picture for thought I am sharing...
though it isn't really a picture.  It's a movie of Christopher, the terrifically two toddler.  He tells me stories about dragons (with a few prompts from me).  I find him very amusing.  Pardon the video quality.  I'm training a new photographer.  :)




Have a great rest of the week!  Visit here for more Daybook entries!

"Like We Never Loved At All" And Other Melodramatic Love Songs

This past weekend, John whisked me away to a posh hotel for an overnight getaway.  It was fabulous and quiet and I got to eat an authentic melt-in-your-mouth crab cake and decadent chocolate mouse cake via room service.

(Heaven, I think, will most definitely include an option for room service.)

As an added bonus, John thoughtfully purchased  Tim McGraw's CD for me because I love country music so much.

(All those years in the south converted me.)

During our jaunt across the state looking for real estate, we listened to the new tunes and I became acutely aware of the words to this song.  Have you ever heard it?

Take a minute.

I'll wait.



OK, so the video is a little gratuitous and over the top and very Hollywood, but that's not the point.  The point is,  while we drove here, there and yonder, I decided that this is perhaps one of the saddest love songs I've ever heard. 

Which got me thinking, what other love songs out there fit the bill as most tragic and angst-filled?

I googled this important research topic and several lists popped up.

Did you know there is an entire website devoted to this subject alone?

It's here.

Check it out.   I'll wait.

A few of my personal favorites include:
"I will always love you" by Dolly Parton/Whiteny Houston (tragic!),
"You don't bring me flowers" by Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand (also tragic),
"The way we were" also by Babs (tragic with a capitol T),
"Love hurts" by Nazareth and
"With or Without You" by U2.

These songs have the type of the gut-wrenching, rip-your-heart-out lyrics that make me weep.

Am I the only one who feels this way?

What, in your opinion, are the saddest love songs ever written?

I Cry Every Time I See It.

Who says the world wide web is all bad?

{pretty, happy, funny, real}

{pretty}

Strawberries from our recent visit to the farm.

Blue Ridge Mountains

{happy}

Our visit to Boston last month to visit John's family.  We were happily celebrating Christine's graduation
from Boston College. She is the youngest of eight Duggan children and the 5th BC graduate.
Go Duggan's and go Eagles!

{funny}

It's funny how Camille is so animated when no other children are stealing her limelight.

She's lively.

And chubby.

And too cute for words. 

 {real}

I was hungry and wanted a bite of her frosted sugar cookie.

She politely told me no.

I begged for a piece anyway.

She smacked her lips with deliciousness and refused.

For more captured moments of every day life, visit Like Mother, Like Daughter!

In Which Beverly Cleary Hits The Proverbial Nail On The Head

After a stranger purchased the family's entire dinner because he thought they looked like a nice bunch, Mrs. Quimby remarks:

“You know,” said Mrs. Quimby thoughtfully, as the car left the parking lot and headed down the street, “I think he was right.  We are a nice family.”

“Not all the time,” said Ramona, as usual demanding accuracy.  “Nobody is nice all the time,” answered her father.  “Or if they are, they are boring.”

“Not even your parents are nice all the time,” added Mrs. Quimby.

Ramona secretly agreed, but she had not expected her parents to admit it.  Deep down inside, she felt she herself was nice all the time, but sometimes on the outside her niceness sort of – well, curdled.  Then people did not understand how nice she really was.  Maybe other people curdled too.

“We have our ups and downs,” said Mrs.Quimby, “but we manage to get along, and we stick together.”

                                                                      --taken from Ramona Quimby Age 8

In a few paragraphs, Cleary sums up both our inherent indestructible human dignity (despite our sometimes poor actions/attitudes) and the beauty and difficulty of family life.

I love children's literature and I love Ramona Quimby.

Simple Woman's Day Book

My blogging inspiration is lagging these days so I'm gonna use a prompt from another mom out there.  Here goes:

Outside My Window...
night is falling and a large bull frog is honking.  I'm liking the sound.  His noise is comforting.


I am thinking...
how I'm tired and want to escape into a hot bathtub and get lost in a book.  I plan on doing just that very soon.

I'm also thinking about a friend of mine from graduate school--probably one of the smartest people I know.  She was the valedictorian of her class from the University of Notre Dame and she's some kind of really important doctor. (She's seriously smart, people.)  She's also a newlywed (only a few weeks!) who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer.  She had to skip her planned honeymoon so she could start chemo treatments.  Pray for her, please?

I'm also thinking about how I'm proud of my sister Sarah.  She's a lawyer, one of the good ones.  She rocks.

Nice suit, Aunt RaRa.  You look professional.

I am thankful for...
the welcome home card Patrick created for John.  My husband has been on the road a lot lately (every week for the past month) and we all miss him when he's gone, Patrick especially.  John's coming home tonight.  I'm thankful for that, too.

From the kitchen...
strawberry smoothies and strawberry short cake.  

We went berry picking over the weekend.  Sadly, the strawberry fields here are a far cry from those in humid Louisiana.  Our excursion was so unfruitful,   John suggested we stop at Wegmans on the way home to pick up a couple of pounds of imported California berries.  The store-bought ones I picked up were cheaper, bigger, and redder than the measly hand picked ones we searched two hours for.   I mourned the taste of those Louisiana berries all day on Sunday.

We still managed a couple of cute pictures, however.

Meaghan was managing the berry collection process.  I love that kid.

Beautiful scenery.  We'll definitely go back in the fall for apples.

Christopher, the terrifically two toddler, and his mother.  He was not interested in our berry picking efforts.

He also saw a rooster that he wasn't quite sure about.

I love this kid, too.  She wore her boots for the occasion.  

This was the most entertaining part of the trip for them--roosters in a cage.
This animal sighting was well worth the drive and the lousy ten bucks we spent on not-so-great berries.

John took this photo and said this shot alone was worth the trip, not that he's biased or anything.
I promise Camille does wear clothes.
It's just she ate a piece of grass and threw up all over herself so I had to take them off.
It was hot out, anyway.  She didn't need all those layers.  Her baby chub is enough.  :)

I am wearing...

black dress shorts and a grey top.  Both items of clothing have large and very noticeable splotches of something (baby food?) down the front.   


I am creating...
blog posts...kinda.


I am going...
to look for houses with John this weekend.  We're supposed to stay overnight so we can have as much time as possible to scour the area for potential buys.  I'm trying to remember these fact finding missions will one day prove helpful, that we will eventually have our own house and our personal belongings.  We will.  I know we will.

I am reading...

The Wounded Spirit

The Man Who Knew Too Much by GK Chesterton

Ramona Quimby Age 8  (with the kids)

And my new spiritual director assigned me Jesus of Nazareth.  I reminded him I wasn't an academic scholar.  He told me I was capable.  Humph.  I haven't started that one yet--it's in Louisiana with a lot of other stuff I own.

On my mind...
upcoming summer plans:  new swim teams and daily practice, trips to the library, crafty projects (I'm so not crafty so I'm ordering from Oriental Trading Company),  Sustained Silent Summer Reading (Thank you, Ramona!), and how to maintain my sanity in the midst of a slower paced, non-structured schedule.  

I'm nervous.  I'm really nervous.


Around the house...
this is a sore subject...:)  

We're hoping St. Joseph is gonna pull through for us.  I'm on day 3 of the novena.  


One of my favorite things...
reading books with my children.

And since you're asking--coffee and cchocolate.  I'm overly attached.  

A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week:

Can I get back to you on this one?  I haven't a clue.

These little prompts were kind of fun.  I guess I did have a few things to say after all.  I'm off to take that bath now.  Please pray we sell our house.  Please?

Triage

During the winter months, Patrick got sick and once he was on the mend, Meaghan caught the same nasty bug.  While taking care of them, I got behind on the laundry.  Simple maintenance of clean clothes around here requires wash be done everyday.


As all moms know, sick kids = more wash.

There were towels and sheets and pajamas and regular clothes and then of course, more towels and sheets.  Within days, the laundry was overflowing out of the baskets onto the floor.   It was everywhere and because the washing machine is in the center of the house, I couldn't just shut the door and walk away.   I was constantly stepping over it just to get out the door!   


That's a lot of wash, I would think.  Deep breath in, deep breath out.  I'll get to it.  It's just laundry.


But in between the sickies and the infant and the toddler, I couldn't get to it.

So it grew and grew and grew.

By Friday, I was in bed with bronchitis and a sinus infection and the laundry pile continued to morph at warp speeds.

On Sunday, I told John, "I give up.  If you want to find me, I'll be underneath the endless mound of clothes."

It had run me over.  Grandma Murphy noticed the problem and suggested we take it to the laundromat.

"It will take us two hours to knock all of it out," she encouraged.

I mumbled about how I would get it done, that it was just temporarily impossible and she nodded with understanding.

Then John Duggan came to my rescue.

He folded the enormous pile of clean clothes that had been sitting for days.  He put the clothes from the wash into the dryer and started another laod  Every time he came out with arms full of linens, I thanked him profusely.


I might just survive, I thought.

And that's the funny thing about motherhood.

Every so often something happens and I get thrown off--maybe it's sick kids, or schedule changes (upcoming summer vacation, anyone?), or a nauseating pregnancy, or a kid experiencing some wacky developmental stage.  Whatever the curve ball may be, I commonly experience these all-of-a-sudden moments where I'm unable to accomplish something that was once easy-- like laundry or cooking or talking on the phone or the library or even bathing.

It's weird.  It's like a simple, normal everyday task becomes an overnight impossibility.  

In these temporary interruptions of services, I have a choice:  I can despair or get stressed or panic about my failures or I can even try to force solutions.  (Not that I've ever done any of the above.  Me?  Please.)

Or I can accept that at the moment certain things are difficult for me to accomplish.  I can remind myself it won't always be difficult to the laundry (for instance) but it's difficult today and it may be difficult tomorrow as well.

But it won't be difficult forever.  

I can assess the situation, looking for that which is beyond my control and that which isn't.   Responding  accordingly, I can leave the rest up to God.  Moment by moment, day by day--that's how I can chose to live when a rather large, unsightly wrench gets thrown into the every day.

But kicking and screaming or simply giving up isn't really going to help anyone.

And it certainly won't get the laundry done.

Sink Or Get Out?

Sometimes I'm guilty of a certain type of self-indulgent wallowing.  It starts as a shallow wade into a small pool of sufferings--maybe someone was rude or slighted me or maybe someone called me a name.  Usually, something happened and I was legitimately hurt.  So I take the opportunity to get my feet wet, to step into the waters of my pain.  The problem is paddling in waves of self-pity are dangerous because I don't ever stop at wet feet.  No, once my big toe is damp with sludge, I go deeper into the cesspool.


After all, I think, I've suffered.  (S)He's hurt me.  Doesn't (s)he  know what (s)he's done?

I swim further into the wrong committed, the rude behavior of others. What began as a casual dip into miseries' pool leaves me drowning. Where I once was a little offended, now I'm not a walking victim assaulted by the world.

Perhaps I'm not alone in this temptation?

It happened last week, a near drowning event caused by my mental and emotional disquietude after being wronged.  While I wallowed like a doused champion, I had a brief moment of clarity, an inspiration to quit being self-focused.

What a novel concept.

This eureka moment prompted me to take my children to the park.  After I changed diapers and tracked down missing shoes and runaway socks, I loaded everyone one in the van

I don't really feel like going to the park, I thought.  I'm sad.  I'm lonely.  I'm miserable.  That's what I feel like being.  

But I drove onward and before I arrived to my destination, I prayed to God to help me get over myself.

And I meant it.

Kinda.

When we got there, I put everyone's shoes on (again!) and guided the three little ones up the walkway to the park.  It was packed with children and scrambling moms struggling to keep multiple kids in eyesight.

My own kids ran off towards the slide mecca when I noticed a woman who looked exactly like a good friend of mine in Louisiana.  She was dressed like her, she carried her baby like she does, and her hair was even styled in the same way.

I jumped back into the self-pity pool, if only momentarily.

Tears welled behind my discount bin shades and I thought about all my old friends and how they were probably all at the park having fun without me.  I thought about how I missed them and how I missed the way our children played together and...and then Christopher yelled for help and my mental pining was interrupted.

Toting Camille on my hip, I clamored over to the toddler begging flight.  With a one handed maneuver I've mastered from years of jugging two babies at once, I lugged his heavy body onto a swing and pushed.

I noticed a mom next to me doing the same thing.  "How old is your baby," she asked.  I told her and we began talking.

It turns out, this mom has three kids under the age of five.  Her youngest is three weeks old and she was born--get this!-- while her dad was on military deployment.  Since he couldn't physically be present, he watched on skype (SKYPE, people!) and the mom talked on and on about how grateful she was for advancements in modern technology.

I stood there slack jawed.

What was it I throwing a pity party for?

A few rude comments?

Being a little homesick?

Missing some dear friends?

And this woman is raising three kids by herself while her husband is fighting for our country?

And she's living with her in-laws so she can have some much needed backup during the year he's gone?

I felt foolish and self-indulgent.

"Your husband, no doubt, is a hero," I told her.  "But so are you; you are very brave.  Thank you for your sacrifice."

She waved me off.

"It's no big deal, really.  You get used to it; we have a system.  You could do it if you had to."

I didn't want to tell her the truth, that no, I was fairly certain I couldn't do it.  Nor did I tell her about my wasted morning of self-pity, about how I dramatically whined for hours about silly things.

I just thanked her, we parted ways, and I stayed out of the cesspool.

For the day.

I should never have been there in the first place.

There are others with much bigger concerns.

Proof It's Possible To Fight About Almost Everything

Mary Bernadette serenaded me with songs the entire way home from preschool today.  Her finale, belted out in full vibrato, included the following lyrics:

"I love you, J----E----S---UUUUUUU---S!!!!!, I love you, J----E----S---UUUUUUU---S!!!!!"

To which Christopher responded, "NO!  He's MY Jesus!"

God Is Here

-New crayons and paints

-Cooing babies

-Big kids holding little ones while I cook

-Cherry blossom trees

-Strawberry fields

These are just some of the few items from a list I’ve been keeping, a list of thanks for God’s goodness in my life.  Inspired by the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, I’ve been jotting down things I notice, life events that touch my heart.  Most of them are silly, really.  

--Little girls toting suitcases on rollers as they return borrowed library books

--Algae covered swimming pools

--Birthday boys with green frosting faces

--Siblings hugging tight

I think it was St. Teresa of Avila who said, “God is in the pots and pans.”  In my vocation to motherhood, it’s easy to overlook God in my demanding duties, to find drudgery instead of joy, work instead of opportunities to love.  So I must actively search for Him as I break up fist fights, manage spilled juice and broken cups, fold the 1056th load of laundry, and resolve battles over toys with missing pieces.  

Read the rest here.  Happy Monday!

The Truth Shall Set You Free

"And is it not obvious that, just as it is a crime to disturb the peace when truth reigns, it is also a crime to remain at peace when the truth is being destroyed?  There is therefore a time when peace is just and a time when it is unjust.  It is written: “There is time for war and a time for peace,” and it is the interests of the truth which distinguish between them.  But there is not a time for truth and a time for error, and it is written, on the contrary: “The truth of the Lord endureth for ever,” and that is why Jesus Christ, who said that he had come to bring peace, said also that he had come to bring war; but he did not say that he had come to bring both truth and falsehood.  Truth is therefore the first rule and ultimate purpose of things."  Blaise Pascal

Deliciousness Incarnate

Regarding The Little Girl Who Calls Him "Baby"

(As in "Hi, Baby!"  "See you later, Baby!")

Patrick (rocking rapid hand motion and tones of sheer indignation/disgust): I'm seven years old, almost 8.  Next year, I'm receiving my First Holy Communion.  I'm nobody's baby but yours, Mom.

And don't you forget it, Baby.

Cocktail Conversations

It was a rare evening out--a cocktail party at that--and John and I were especially appreciative of the night off from parenting duties.  We were paying a babysitter handsomely to cattle call our energetic youngins for the night and we had promised each other we would enjoy the time out.  All dressed up we were and sipping glasses of Merlot when the hostess introduced us to a woman from our parish.

"You look so familiar," I said to her after we shook hands.  "It's nice to put a name with the face."

"Becky told me you have three children and they are all little?  Is that right?"

"Yes, we do.  We have three under age three.  We're busy people," I said, giggling as I thought of my lovely chaos at home.

"I can't imagine what that must be like.  I only have one child.  My oldest is the same age as yours and I'm so overwhelmed.  Do you stay home?"

"Yes, I'm very blessed that way."

And that is where the conversation took a turn.

My status as an at-home mother unleashed a torrent of guilt this woman lugged around like a first time mom does her overstuffed diaper bag.  Huddled in a corner with wine glasses, we spent the next 45 minutes reviewing the ins and outs of her daily life which involved her work schedule, her cleaning/shopping schedule, the kinds of food she feeds her husband and child, her extravagant house and it's decor, her marital issues, and the sheer anxiety she experienced managing it all.


To put it mildly, the woman was a wreck.

And I could see why.  She was struggling with the cultural pressure to do and have it all versus her desire to simply stay at home, have more babies, and take care of her family.  Her heart was telling her one thing but her head (and her pocketbook)  another.

I truly felt for her because I've battled this temptation myself and I listened attentively as she vented about the obstacles in her daily life.  During the course of our conversation, however, it became obvious something about my life gave her pause, intrigued her.  I'm not sure if it was the fact I didn't work, that I planned on having more than a few children, or that I seemed happy in the midst of sheer pandemonium but something was there.  In between bursts of personal revelations, she'd stop and ask me questions like How do you do it? or  Do you get overwhelmed?  I'd answer honestly with things like--"It's hard but I do it.  I'm overwhelmed but mostly I'm happy."

Towards the end of our time together she confessed, "I am thinking about having another baby.  I'd like to have one but I'm almost 40.  My husband is open to another too but I just don't know how I'll do it all."

With that she stopped talking, cocked her head to one side and then asked me--a complete stranger--, "Do you think I should have more children?"

To which I carefully and gently responded, "Look, you're never gonna regret having another baby but you may regret your decision not too."

She covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes became saucer big.  She shook her head in agreement.

About that time, we got interrupted and we never spoke again--until about a year later when I bumped into her in our Church parking lot.   She was obviously pregnant.   I hugged her and squealed for joy over her baby bump.

She clutched my hand and said, "Guess what?  I quit my job and I'm at home full time!"

"You're kidding?"

"And guess what else?" she said.  "I'm happy, I'm really happy."

I suspect that sometimes people simply need permission to do what they're heart is telling them.


(Editor's Note:  I'm not suggesting all moms need to quit their day jobs in order to stay at home.  Plenty of saints were working moms--think St. Giana Molla and St. Elizabeth Ann Seton.  We need good, Catholic women in the workplace.  I'm just saying this woman felt prompted to stay home, was struggling with that decision and once she took the plunge, she felt peace in doing God's will.)

Happy Mother's Day, Grandma!

First Priority

Patrick:  You need to listen to what I say if there is ever a tornado.  They're very dangerous, Mary.  They can rip up your house, break windows, throw stuff.  You need to get away from them, so if one comes and I yell "Basement!" you need to run downstairs.

Mary Bernadette:  OK, but first I have to get my lipstick.

Waving The While Flag Of Surrender

I laid my weary head against the Confessional gate and sighed loudly, worn from the weight of my brokenness.  It was Good Friday and we had waited over two hours for an empty seat and an available priest.  When it was my turn to enter, I knelt and recounted my sins--the ones my Heavenly Father already knew-- and then I paused.

"I think," I rambled to the shadow lurking behind the screen, "I think I am getting better, Father.  But I'm not getting better fast enough."

Silence settled within the dimly lit confines of the small booth as I waited for some direction, for some insight.

"Perhaps God isn't on your timeline for improvement," he responded with soft simplicity.

I laughed out loud for the truth of this statement hit me upside the head like a foul ball outside of  home plate.

The problem is no one is on my timeline--not me, my husband, my kids, my extended family/friends, and not even God.

"Hurry up, already," I find myself instructing my kids throughout a day.  They don't move fast enough in my estimation, respond quickly enough to my suggestions for improvement.


When are they going to learn that their behavior simply isn't acceptable?  How many times am I going to have to explain it to them, over and over like a broken record!,  I wonder in frustration.

When my daughter comes home from school, tears dripping down her face because the same kid has made the same rude comment for the third day in a row, I pray to muster words of compassion instead of irritation.  "What did you think was going to happen messing with that kid again?  I told you to stay away from them!" I want to snap.

But my warnings, admonishments, and instructions aren't always heeded.  "It won't happen again," one of my children often says in apology and I counter with, "How 'bout you just tell me your gonna try harder?"  Because while we may want to eradicate a certain weakness from our very being, the fact is change is slow and hard and time consuming.  It requires work and grace and it doesn't happen over night.

"There are just some things about myself I will never be able to 'fix'," I told the same priest recently during a different meeting in the Confessional.

"That may be true," he said, "The Serenity prayer petitions God to help us accept the things we cannot change.  You may not be able to eliminate some of the bad things about yourself, but it is possible for God to change you.  That's where the Sacraments and grace come in.  He knows what you need, the minute you need it.  It's important to come to Him, wait on Him.  It's important to surrender."

And that, my friends, is how I'm really called to change.  For my efforts at "self-improvement" won't come (and they haven't ever come!)  from enrolling in anger management classes or devouring books on effective communication.  They won't happen as I so wish they would-- as soon as possible!  No, true change, true conversion will only come when I'm able to pray and mean words like those found in the "Big Book" of AA:

“Relieve me of the bondage of self that I may better do thy will.” 

True conversion will happen when I consistently wave the white flag, give myself up, and pronounce earnestly, " What is it You want?"

And that kind of prayerful surrender is a process--a slow and tedious and humbling process.

God isn't on my timeline.  In fact, I'm not even on my timeline.

"There must be a real giving up of the self. . . .As long as your own personality is what you are bothering about, you are not going to Him at all. The very first step is to try to forget about the self altogether. Your real, new self . . . will not come as long as you are looking for it. It will come when you are looking for Him. . . . The principle runs through all life from top to bottom. Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favorite wishes every day . . . Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in."  --CS Lewis

10 Signs You May Be An Effective Grandparent

1.  You spy one of your grandchildren engaging in a destructive behavior--say like, coloring on a wall.  You tell your spouse to ask the child to stop and your spouse, not wanting to be the bad guy, refuses.  The child continues said behavior, creating a colorful mosaic of  scribble across the walls.  You decide you'll keep it up.

2.  You ask your grandchild to pick up their shoes and the grandchild wants to know what they'll get for doing it.  You seriously consider your answer and settle on the crisp $5 bill in your pocket.

3.  You tell your daughter and son-in-law that they are overreacting when they discipline their child for a twenty minute screaming fit which included catapulting every single piece of clothing over the banister onto the floor below.  "She's just a kid," you may say.  "You shouldn't have upset her."

4.  Your grandchildren consistently say to your daughter and/or son-in-law, "Grandma/pa doesn't make me do that" or "Grandma/pa says I don't have to".

5.  You request your daughter's assistance to clean the house in anticipation of company.   When she begins to coral the troops into action, you intercede and promise a profitable trip to the toy store for any kid who picks up shoes, toys, and books.  Your daughter looks at you in astonishment and says, "Who are you and what have you done with my parent?"

6.  Boxes of sugar laden cereal appear on your pantry shelves and in your grandchildren's bowls--cereal you would never have dared to allow your own children to ingest.

7.  Your grandchildren regularly break out into full body wrestling matches in order to weasel their little bodies closest to your person.

8.  You're as convicted as your grandchildren in the belief that life-sized stuffed animals such as these are necessary possessions:

(and you ignore any outright requests from your daughter to refrain from these types of purchases.) 

9.  When your grandchild needs new shoes, she bypasses both her parents and heads in your direction.  Planting herself  in front of you as she dangles her 'sub-par' foot wear, you assure her you will take her to the store to buy a new pair.  Instead of an appropriate expression of gratitude, the child, without hesitation, asks, "Can I get two pairs?"  To which you-also without hesitation-reply, "Of course!"

10.You may or may not have said the following and actually meant it:

"I will buy their affection, if I have to."

If you identify with four or more of the following statements, my guess is your grandchildren worship the ground on which you walk.

My Guest Blogger, Colonel D. M. Murphy

Apparently, my knack for blogging was naturally inherited.  The Colonel, in his spare time, decided to record some of the better moments we've encountered together since moving home.  Here are a few of his highlights--all of which involve his wallet.  Oops.  Sorry about that, Colonel.  We're repaying you in prayers...and free artwork.  

Those Golden Years:

It has been great having my oldest daughter’s family with us over the past several months. John left his job in Louisiana and joined a company closer to both the Murphy/Duggan clans. They will be with us until they sell their house and buy a new one. Of course, having all the grandkids is the bonus deal for us. Yep – life couldn’t be better. This is just a quick list of all the fun things and golden moments in the last few months.

New TV. Everyone knows I like to go bed early during the workweek. Of course, the big HD TV (and our only TV) is in the Master Bedroom. Kathy thought nothing of inviting John, Colleen and grandkids into the bedroom to watch TV on the big screen. Not such a great idea when Grandpa is trying to sleep. I read about the new LED TVs and thought -- by gosh – we need one of those. Yep – now all the Duggan’s can watch TV on the new TV in the loft and not in the Master bedroom. I really like that LED TV!

New Refrigerator. Kathy and I had an old refrigerator in the garage. We would put cokes, fruit, leftovers and other things in there. Since the Duggan’s arrival – we have a new refrigerator out in the garage. One day when I came home, Colleen informed me that the old refrigerator in the garage was broken. A lot of meat that was in the freezer and was thawing out – lucky it was winter. I ran to Best Buy and bought an inexpensive frig. A couple of days later I came home and Colleen informed me that the new one was now broken. Couldn’t be – then I remembered – circuit breaker problem. Sure enough a popped circuit breaker – I fixed it! Then I started wondering about the old broken refrigerator. I plugged the old, broken frig into another outlet – oops it worked. You know every home really needs 3 refrigerators!

Basement/Recreation Room Fixes. I came home from work one day and found my grandson Patrick putting rocks down the sewer vent in my front yard. I had clipped the top off when I mowed the lawn and never replaced it. I didn’t think much of it but told him not to put any more rocks down the vent. About 4 days later – on a Sunday after Mass – my son-in-law informed me that the toilet had overflowed in the basement. Of course, we had to get a plumber. He showed up around 8:00 PM. 4 hours later the stoppage was gone. Rocks in the sewer system – can’t imagine how that happened?! Colleen called the Stanley Steamer folks to clean the carpet. Stanley Steamer shows up and says he can’t clean the carpet because it is sewage damage. Next call is to the insurance company. It was determined that some minor fixes were in store for the toilet stoppage, dry wall damage and wall to wall carpet. Ok everybody needs some dry wall repair from time to time; plus a new coat of paint for the entire recreation/bedroom. The bathroom (where the problem started) has a new linoleum floor and a new vanity is going in this week to replace the old one with all the sewer mess on it. Also we really love the new wall-to-wall carpet that was installed last week. Think of the resell value.

Artists. Did you know that artists run in my family? My sister Ann is a tremendous artist. It looks like some of these talents have been inherited by my grandkids. For lent, Colleen put Lenten calendars and posters on the kitchen walls so the kids can remember the starving kids in China, Bangladesh, Somalia etc. The kids are supposed to pencil/crayon in sacrifices they have accomplished etc. leading up to Easter. Great idea huh! Mary B and Meaghan take it a step further and show a real propensity to becoming muralists. With crayons and markers (not indelible) ((Colleen found out about indelible markers in Louisiana and won’t allow them in her house or ours)), they draw sketches of Cavalry, crowns of thorns and crosses on the wall. Great stuff! Move over Michelangelo – I’m positive my grandkids will be called upon to do touch ups to the Sistine Chapel. Does anyone know a good interior painter?

Medical Cures. Kathy and I have seemed to have one continuous cold or flu symptom over the course of the past winter. I think we may have caught them from our grandkids – they seem to catch everything floating around and then share the bug with the rest of the family. Now for the upside of this situation. I will have to go to Luanda, Angola sometime in June or July. To make the trip – I was required to get a number of immunizations – did I mention I lost my shot card. The Department of State was more than happy to accommodate my request for new shots – two appointments worth of shots. In the past, when I would get Yellow Fever, Typhoid, Dengue Fever, Meningitis, African Trypanosomiasis, Meningitis Boosters and the list goes on – I would get a fever and feel awful for a day or two. This time around – zero, nada, nothing or no reaction at all to the shots. I can only attribute this phenomenon to my grandkids, who have shared every bug and virus this winter. Thanks kids!!!

Stayed tuned for more from the Colonel . . .

Happy Easter!

It's been a whirlwind around here since Easter.  I'm just now getting around to uploading some Easter photos.  Good thing it lasts for 50 days!  

Holy Saturday baking.  So much fun.

We dyed three dozen eggs but as you know, eggs are delicate and the little hands we have around here aren't.
So, we lost some.  Oh well.

When we filed into the Basilica for Easter Sunday Mass, the married couple behind us began laughing hysterically.
I wasn't sure why, but I suspected it was because of something one of the kids did.  During Communion, the wife tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Please, tell me what he did to his hands."  When I explained it was the egg dye, she started laughing again.  Always providing fodder for entertainment (and distraction), we Duggan's are.

So pretty.  We had lots of help too.  Uncle Kevin was there, Ms. Jessie, and our family friend Andrew.

This was a very difficult shot to capture.  They aren't all smiling but no one is crying so that's a successful photo shoot.
My standards are way low.

Discovering the Easter baskets.

Even Camille was happy with her treats.

The loot.  Of course, Grandma and Grandpa also contributed to our post-Lenten celebration so the kids received double the fun.  They deserved it.  They upheld their Lenten fasts and better than I did.

Meaghan's goodies.  The Easter Bunny brought her a children's cookbook.  This gift made her millenium.  She's baked two things from it already.