Friday Photo Favorites

Party Animal!

Blow.

 

Profile.

Me too

Four has proven to be a very tough age for our boys. It has been the hardest year thus far with many more to come I'm sure. But something about four is just tough. Tonight I was walking with our four-year-old to give him some space away and focused time he shared this with me.

"What's going on Avery? Is four just hard?"

"NO, growing up is too hard! That's why I wanted to stay three and never turn four!" He said this as if he was forced into this position.

Me too my little one, me too. I wish I could have twice as long with each of you at each stage, even four, so to leave a deeper imprint on my soul. How quickly the candles come these days.

We made that!

 As I sat in the back of the cry room on Sunday nursing the youngest and knocking down the only (she and her crazy monkey, gymnastic skills are going to make my hair turn gray too soon), I was struck by a not so little body that was not sitting perfectly still, but was trying hard. He is trying harder each day to grow more into a gentlemen. The revelation struck me, that we made that-him, a six year old little boy who is growing into a fine young man.

Saturday we all were working to uproot the overgrowth of trees in our flower bed, all of us except Paul Thomas. I was just about to head inside and scold him for not being with the family when he came out the front door, beaming, with two plates filled with crackers smothered with peanut butter and jelly. He exclaimed, "I made these because you are working so hard and in case someone gets hungry." Then he hurried back in to bring out water for everyone and napkins. He was right; it was lunch time and all welcomed the snack.

Manic Monday

Mary Colette is working on her conversation skills. One of her new starters is, "Hope it rains."

PT does not like any sort of weather so his response is always, "I hope it doesn't rain, right Mommy!"

Well she has found a new level of sassy.

The second time around is how she usually makes this declaration. 

Friday Photo Favorites

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

Just some snippets from our Wedding trip to MN.

A Houyhnhnm

Nothing more than a simple yes or no question proposed;
     A solitary, out-of-place dish that he wasn't to touch.
The futile attempts of a still, small voice to reign in growing fingers, wandering,
     Were no match for the temptation of curiosity.
He sets his jaw, steels his eyebrows and contracts the muscles in his shoulder blades
    That have yet to bear the weight of manhood or reason.
The newly grown exoskeleton is the first shell under which
    The commencing shots of a life-long war are, and will be, muffled.
Darkened eyes, though, lay bare the false illumination
    Of speaking that which is not so.
A strange, new power, Is it physical?, courses through his body
    Which each successive "no",
    But he cannot bear the sting of fledgling conscience and, quickly,
    Can only force himself to wiggle his head.
Fifty-three and one half months have not yet equipped him
    With the tactics of deceit of others, or himself.
One knee on the floor, so he can search my own eyes,
   How do I tell him his disguise has failed?
Will he repent, or refine?
As the boyish body that will very soon be manish relaxes,
     The internal turmoil surfaces through a weak, quivering lower lip.
Yes, he says.

Friday Photo Favorites

 The other day Mary Colette asked for a mini-photo shoot and this is how she position herself for the pics.

I think her Daddy is in for a crazy, fun ride with this one!

And her Momma.

Coy.

 

Her big brown eyes, curly hair and feisty personality is why God gave her three brothers!

An Icon of Culture

The image of a red squirrel caught in the act
     of what appears to be exhortative preaching.
He is proclaiming the good news of the return of
     the savior of our society,
     the great unifier,
     consolation of the working man,
     hope of millions.
He pleads for our active participation
     in his worship: "Can I get an Amen?"
          reads the meme.
Many will flock to the towering, glistening
     priceless basilicas,
     reaching deep into their pockets
          to pay the tithe.
The drama of the Sunday liturgy,
     played out by 22 concelebrants,
     depicts the struggle between good and evil;
          which is which depends on the color of the vestments.
From the entrance hymn,
     an ode to a banner, yet waving,
          to golden flags of the penitential rites,
          to crowns won and lost on Hail Marys,
     the people interrupt their partaking
          of the communion of Brat and Beer
     to sing responsorial psalms
          of cheers, groans and boos.
The faithful return home,
     filled with the highs and lows
          of emotional catharsis.
     They meditate all week on lessons learned,
     and anticipate with fervor the next occasion
          to receive the sacrament.
Heed the voice of the furry prophet:
     Football season is at hand!

Soaking it up!

 I have tried my best to relish every delicious moment of my sweet George's babyhood, desiring that he will mature at a slower rate than his siblings. I have smelt him more to cement in my being that sweet baby smell. I have slowed down and gazed into his eyes and delighted as he discovers new fascinating objects, the best being the tree outside, the fan being a close second.  From the moment he was born I had a sense that I need to soak up every bit of him. I am not sure if it is because Philip and I grew up in families with four children making it impossible to think of more little ones because it is out of our realm of life experiences. Or maybe because my last baby was my most challenging that I feel like I missed her babyhood all together. Whatever the reason I am trying to soak this little one up, every coo, every smile, every milestone.  And for some reason the milestones, like this, seem to be coming much too quickly.

Are you sure I can do this?

I can, I can!

With no hands you say?!

I'm a pro!

Whoa, maybe a bit more practice.
When and if Mommy lets me.

(I'm not sure this counts as sitting or just propped up be delicious pudge!)

Manic Monday

Friday Photo Favorites

My boys, melt my heart.