Maria

Maria has been commenting that I never share any memories from when she was little.  I knew this already.  I can hardly remember her as a baby.  Whether it was sleep deprivation, untreated PPD, or simply being in the Mommy Tunnel doesn't matter to her.  She wants to hear cute stories about herself as a baby.  Not the same old one about how used to cry if there was a breeze...or how she used to bang her head on the side of the crib to make her brothers laugh.

Maria, today I found these notes marked "2004" in an old scrapbooking bag.  I gave you the pens.  Here are your stories, some more recent:

Until you were 3 years old, you would not speak in public.

You have always wanted to do what your big brothers were doing, whether it was baseball, scooters, kindergarten, potty training or Harry Potter.  And because you are so mature, I often forget that you are two years younger.

Like the big boys,  you loved the pizza park at the National Zoo and always wanted
to spend the whole day there instead of going to see the animals.

When I was pregnant with Cecilia, you used to call her "pickle".  A few years later, Daddy took all of you to Arlington while you were there you said you wanted to be a nun and Cecilia did too.  "Don't you, Cecilia?" you asked.  "Yes!" she said.

Daddy didn't believe you and said that if you asked Cecilia if she wanted to be a pickle, she would say yes.  Then you asked her if she wanted to be a pickle, and she said "no."  This is notable because it's the last time you wanted her to do something with you.

Sorry, darlin', it took me 8 years to learn how to do your hair well.
This was not that day.

You have always had an affinity for mud.  And though you laughingly resent it, I think you secretly love it when the park ranger at Weymouth calls you "outdoor girl."

You love being the center of attention...sort of.

And finally, to remind you we have a date in 4 years to run the army 10 miler.  You often and with enthusiasm choose big projects.  My job to be sure you accomplish them!

Fish and Poi, Poi and Fish...

Don't you miss record jackets?

Growing and growing--8 weeks old already

I can't believe how the summer has flown by.  Dominic has already been smiling at us for almost a month, and now he coos and sometimes even goes to sleep without too much trouble.  Recently he got salmonella, probably from someone with dirty hands letting him suck on their finger.  He had a few very unhappy days, but now he is much better.  A few weeks ago we started easing into school, and mostly he has worked with me rather than against me by napping nicely in a pack and play in the living room.  

Dominic in his wrap and apron helping me make tortillas.

8 weeks old

Wearing his new outfit from our super great midwife

Enjoying some special brotherly love from James

Hail Holy Queen

We're not sure the tambourine is really appropriate for church....

Anti-versary

antiversary:  a term referring to the experience that despite 364 happy days a year, the anniversary always seems to be an epic fail.


Yesterday Bill and I both made a Herculean effort to be at 5pm Mass. In June Thomas borrowed $10 from me for a stipend so he could request a Mass for us as an anniversary gift.  August 10th was taken, so he chose the vigil.  I should have made it back from the airport with plenty of time but didn't count on a Charles having a nosebleed and 2 desperate bathroom stops for James to slow us down.  Bill should have been able to skate out of work early but didn't count on drama which only grudgingly allowed him to come for part of the Mass and then go back to work.

It was a lovely Mass, Anthony served, the kids were good, the readings inspiring....and Msgr. read the wrong intention.  He didn't just read the intention for the noon Mass; he read the name of the person who had requested the noon Mass.  Sigh.  He apologized afterward, and we all know it was meant for us.  :)

Over coffee this morning Bill and I discussed some of our favorite anitversaries:

Dinner of grease with a side of cigarette smoke while listening to our song on the jukebox at the Waffle House (1st)

Delicious expensive dinner at a mafia owned restaurant.  Unfortunately, we were not actually speaking to each other (3rd)

Paying for a sitter...so we could have dinner with the commanders of Bill's battalion (4th)

Overnight without kids in downtown Honolulu ending shortly after Bill got hit by a car as we were walking to breakfast (5th)

Bill in the ER with kid with possible broken arm and me at homeschool conference planners' dinner (9th)

Add to that ranger school, deployments, and other little bumps in the road, and this year seems pretty good.

Dominic's song

Here's some music to go along with the slideshow of Dominic's baptism.



My brother did an older baptism rite with a Mexican flair.  The bread, salt and lime were all integral to the baptism.  We saved the tequila for later.  The older rite is all about the godparents, so Bill and I stood aside and while Mike and Paula dealt with the very unhappy baby.   He just didn't know what was best for him.  Good thing we're the parents, right?


Created with flickr slideshow from softsea.

Dominic--2 week old cuteness