Spring Cleaning? Um, clearly No

I was supposed to be cleaning the basement today, instead...

Even Though the Snow Is Melting...

There is one little snowperson just starting to pick up speed! We found out this weekend that my nephew Carl and my niece Meg are expecting a baby on Seamus's 6th birthday! We are so completely delighted - not only for Carl and Meg but for Chris, Cathy and the rest of the crew. They will deliver this little snowbeing six weeks before Pat and Danielle's wedding - which is very reminiscent for us of having Seamus right before Tom and Andie's wedding.

I get so emotional about these new babies in our family (Eric and Kathy's twins are precious) because I feel like having a child (assuming your life is stable enough for it) is such an act of hopeful selflessness. It seems as though we always hear about the down side of having children, the financial crunch, the lifestyle changes, and of course that bad parenting that is all over the news. It seems that there must be 10 monster parents for every good one and I cannot help but believe that just isn't true.

Certainly, there is terrible abuse and neglect that goes on in our world, wrongs that we choose to look away from each day (because it couldn't possibly be our responsibility to stand up and do the right thing). Truly there is nothing harder than parenting because it calls everything we know about ourselves into question. I can't tell you how much being a parent has changed how I view the world - it has not made me more insular and conservative, in fact quite the opposite. Being a parent has made me realize that I have to face the world more bravely, even more brazenly than I would have before. Having to explain poverty, exclusions and mortality to kids, having to say these things out loud makes you listen to what you really believe. Why do people get sick? Why do some children not have houses? Why are those people fighting? I try so hard to avoid saying things like "it's complicated, you won't understand."

But having your first child seems to be the happy/terrifying moment when you realize that you are one (very small) piece of a much larger, magnificent puzzle. And for me at least, the first time I realized how complexly, wonderful that puzzle really is. Children remind us that nothing is impossible, everything has value and that everyone is capable of something good.

One moment you are an island, the next you are a teacher, protector, admirer, admonisher, chief executive officer, janitor, coach and den leader all in one. And "Happy Birthday" will never mean the same thing again.

Each child offers their parents a chance for new birth themselves - a chance to learn, reinvent, rediscover and rejoice. Nothing redefines who you are like meeting your child for the first time - it is a wondrous, miraculous gift. And it is never more clear where babies come from than in those first few, glistening moments of brand new love. Love is the ultimate connection that began long before us and will continue on long after us.

Congrats, Carl and Meg. You're going to be great - and we are so grateful to be able to watch it all happen. Carlo, from playing at the duplex to riding the St. Joe's bus, from babysitting on Theresa Street to picnic's at the lake, from your wonderful wedding to your new house, I treasure this journey with you and your new growing family. Our history is our family, our family is our life's love.

Life is such a blessed brilliance.

Happy Saint Patty's Day! Go Irish!

Go Irish. Seriously, GO IRISH!























Seamus still worships the King.


















Meeting the mayor - not nearly as impressed as seeing the King.


















MJ and Mom enjoy Irish coffee (well, mom mostly).


















Katie really enjoys Irish coffee after attending church with three kids.























Buddies.








































The Dougherty Clan. Happy St. Pat's.

(Thanks Kate for being the official family photographer).

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE IN AN IRISH FAMILY

1) You will never play professional basketball.
2) You swear very well.
3) At least one of your cousins is a fireman, cop, bar owner, funeral home owner or holds political office. And you have at least one aunt who is a nun or uncle who's a priest..
4) You think you sing very well.
5) You have no idea how to make a long story short!
6) There isn't a big difference between you losing your temper or killing someone...
7) Much of your childhood meals were boiled. Instant potatoes were a mortal sin.
8) You have never hit your head on a ceiling.
9) You spent a good portion of your childhood kneeling in prayer.
10) You're strangely poetic after a few beers.
11) You are, therefore, poetic a lot.
12) You will be punched for no good reason...a lot.
13) Some punches directed at you are from legacies of past generations.
14) Many of your sisters and/or cousins are named Mary, Catherine or Eileen ... and there is at least one member of your family with the full name of Mary Catherine Eileen .
15) Someone in your family is very generous. It is more than likely you.
16) You may not know the words, but that doesn't stop you from singing..
17) You can't wait for the other guy to stop talking before you start talking.
18) You're not nearly as funny as you think you are ... but what you lack in talent, you make up for in frequency.
19) There wasn't a huge difference between your last wake and your last keg party.
20) You are, or know someone, named Murph.
21) If you don't know Murph then you know Mac. If you don't know Murph or Mac then you know Sully . Then you probably know McMurphy.
22) You are genetically incapable of keeping a secret.
23) You have Irish Alzheimer's... you forget every thing but the grudges!
24) 'Irish Stew' is a euphemism for 'boiled leftovers.'
25) All of your losses are alcohol-related (loss of driver's license, loss of money, loss of job, loss of significant other, loss of
teeth from a punch...) but it never stops you from drinking.
26) Your skin's ability to tan.... not so much.
27) You met your husband/wife/significant other/accountant/lawyer/landscaper/etc. in a bar/pub.
28) Childhood remedies for the common cold often included some form of whiskey.
29) There's no leaving a family party without saying goodbye for at least 45 minutes.
30) At this very moment, you have at least two relatives who are not speaking to each other (not fighting, mind you), just not speaking to each other.

I got this list from our beloved friend Joe, and while we cannot account for all 30 things, I'm pretty sure he can. We're off to church! Let the festivities begin!

Family Portrait. Sort of.

"Look at Mom. Look at Mom! Seriously, I want to take a picture of you rotten kids, loooooook at me!"

And this is the kind of picture I get.
















These ones are after I settled down and asked them who they loved. I guess this only reinforces that I'm not a portrait kind of mom.

Spring! Mud!

Today was beautiful - we all feel refreshed. And by refreshed I mean totally soaked in mud. We had several changes of clothes today, but it all was totally worth it. Dinner at the park, walk with the family, big soaking bath and much, much cleaner children. All very good for the soul.

A View from the Inside

On Monday night Seamus wasn't falling asleep (he had a three hour nap in the afternoon) and so as I was getting into bed, he kept calling to me from his room. "Mom, the Knight book is really cool." "Mom, can I have some water?" "Mom, is it alright if I go potty?" Finally when he saw my light go out I heard his feet scurrying along the cork floors. "Can I have a cuddle for one minute, I'm chilly." The kids know that they can sneak in bed with us if they promise to stay for only "one minute."

Earlier in the day we had been talking about uncle Tom and what the boys remember about him. It was a lovely conversation and heartening to think about all of the aspects of Tom that Seamus has internalized - I'm not sure how much is in natural memory and how much is our habit of reminiscing, but in any case he believes he has some lovely memories. It's also interesting to me but he remembers the funeral pretty clearly and he has some clear memories of the blue condo and flying the pirate kite on the beach with Grandpa. He remembers cuddling in bed with Grandma and Grandpa and worrying about how sick Finn and I got. He also remembers the blue sleeping bags and asked if Connor had them now.

So he when he crawled into bed and snuggled up next to me (James was still in New Jersey) he must have still been in a nostalgic mood. He took some deep breaths and I could feel him settling down. After a few minutes of quiet, he said: "Mom, would you like me to tell you about what it felt like before I was born, you know, when I was in your tummy?" And I of course said sure. "Well, it was cozy and warm and I could hear everything you said about me." I laughed about this and even though it was totally dark I could feel Seamus smiling. "And I could see these things, oh what are they called?" And I said I didn't know, since he was the only one with an expert opinion on the subject. "Oh! That's right. I saw lots of potatoes! There were potatoes everywhere."

Now you have to understand that I've told Seamus numerous times that when I was pregnant with him I ate a baked potato every day for lunch. It was just the only thing that always sounded good to me.

There was something so funny and unexpected about this that I laughed for a long time hugging and kissing his forehead. And as I was falling asleep I let him stay cuddled up next to me because I couldn't get over how fast its all gone. From James reading Horton Hears A Who to my belly in San Francisco to this thoughtful, wonderful little person who in no time will be too big to cuddle in bed. I slept soundly, grateful for this gift.