Andrew's Hero

Thursday the cable guy came to hook our apartment up to high speed internet. It was love at first sight for Andrew. Fortunately, Will was asleep for much of it so I could facilitate Andrew's obsession with the installation guy.



First we stared at him through a small window while he fiddled with some sort of wiring box in the apartment building's stairwell.

Then Andrew followed him as closely as was physically possible and tried to hammer, with his own baby hammer, exactly the same spots as the installation man was hammering (putting up the cable).





Andrew engaged the man in engrossing conversation:

"Guy, what you doing?"

"I'm installing cable."

"Guy, what you fixing?"

"Cable."

"What you fixing?"

laughter

"Where's you hammer?"



Then the guy, who had learned what Andrew's next question was sure to be, took the initiative: "What's your name?"
"Andrew Cannon." Then Andrew took the controls again: "Guy, we like Bob a Builder!"



The only real deviation from this conversation took place when the man asked to use our bathroom and Andrew chimed in with some commentary on what the guy was putting in the potty. I hope the man did not hear him. Andrew's enthusiasm for the cable installer and for the act of installing the cable did not ebb, and he literally was underfoot basically the entire time the man was working. The cable guy was good natured about it, even claiming to enjoy Andrew's interference. I finally got Andrew to address the man as "sir" by the end of the installation process. If only Andrew would be this thrilled when his dad comes home from work.

Will Has a Big Boy Face (and Andrew a big boy vocab)

*i wrote this entry last week but didnt post it bc i was having trouble putting the photos on. because i am really really dumb.

I think William looks a lot like his father and a lot like his brother. Mainly, though, he looks a lot like an adult. If I am at my parents' and someone asks me where Will is, instead of telling them he is taking a nap, which is obviously what he must be doing, I say that I don't know, he said he was going to go for a walk or wanted pick something up from the store. I have been telling this sort of joke, exclusively for my own benefit, since Andrew was born (and wore tiny footed pants with a back pocket for his wallet) but it is even funnier to me now because Will's face is so mature. My friend's husband commented that he expected Will to just start talking to him and telling him about his day. I have better photos of him showing his big happy smile, but this is all I had available on my computer.

A quick update on Will's bogus right-ear deafness diagnosis: Will and I went to the audiologist's office at Georgetown U Hospital for a re-check of Will's right ear, which had failed two previous tests. This exam was supposed to be much more invasive and would take over an hour to conduct. They wanted to put him under. I felt really uncomfortable with this, and I also doubted that there was anything wrong. It is common for newborns to fail, and the second test was conducted in the dr's office with equipment that she said was not reliable for newborns (and she refused to have the tech conduct the test on his left ear to find out whether the failure was due to a mechanical flaw or a real problem with his ear.) Plus, it was obvious that Will can hear. Anyway, this latest exam, however, indicated that his right ear was fine while his left ear failed. Long story short: Will is almost certainly of perfect hearing in both ears and his left ear has some fluid left over from his recent cold. I want my ridiculous parking fee back. I think I am never going to a city hospital again, btw; it is too much of a pain to fight traffic and other drivers for a parking space.

Andrew's quotes of the day:

When he heard me repeating to my sister a cute and funny comment he made: "Mommy, don't laugh at Andrew's voice." He also now tells me not to laugh, it's not funny, when I am either laughing at something cute he has said or smiling when he is throwing some sort of tantrum or otherwise displaying anger.

"I mean it!" and "Darn it!" and the combo: "I want to read this book, darn it. I mean it!" I am so so glad that I decided to eliminate hell and damn from my vocabulary when Andrew was born.

Bidding Papa goodnight after staying at their home that afternoon while I took Will for his hearing test: "Goodnight, Papa, I love you. Thank you so much for playing with me." They had played with a balloon for a really long time. His comment was 100% unprompted. Who knew that Andrew knew to feel appreciative?

The Last 48

Here are some photos taken in the last 48 hours of Andrew and Will. They are both transforming before my eyes. Andrew is turning into such a chatterbox big boy, and Will is unfolding like a tiny rosebud.

Andrew helping me make waffles at my parents' house. At the moment this shot was taken, he was saying "Wow, amazing!" as he watched the mix spill down from the cup.

Andrew and Will on the bed. Notice they are holding hands, and you may not be able to tell, but Will was smiling at Andrew. Andrew put Will in his lap himself.

Andrew made his first emergency visit to the doctor's office today after he slipped off the piano bench from a standing position. He cut his chin and the inside of his bottom lip pretty badly. He was brave, even though he insisted that "Andrew not brave." I guess he knew that he was not feeling very brave even if he acted so.

Ode to B

Dear Brig

I only have a few minutes before our teenage two year old and our perfect new baby wake up, but I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you and missed you while you were away. (I am doing so on our blog because you can make these things into books and so I am trying to put stuff in the boys will want to have someday. Family history, you know . . .)

So, back to the point: I really missed you this last business trip. You say that I really just miss the child-care help. Sure, I admit it. But there is so much more to our marriage.

Like housework. Even though the girls did all my dishes after Sarah's baby shower yesterday, it just wasn't the same. I need YOU to do them.

And an apology. Yes, I know I call you and get annoyed because I can't tell whether you have a heartbeat or not, but I have finally realized you are telling the truth about the connection just being bad and that you can only hear every third word and are never sure what I am saying and when you are supposed to respond. I guess I should have realized this earlier, since I hate talking on the phone to non-family members in our apartment for the reason that the conversations go awkwardly due to bad reception. I just expect more of you. It was not until I had this problem last night while talking to an old friend who mumbles and for some reason does not talk into the receiver, and who therefore left me guessing as to what the heck he was saying, that I understood your predicament. Luckily for me, it was not socially acceptable for my friend to get bugged at me about my (quite desperate) nonresponsiveness, as I do at you. Did.

Even more than the Andrew night-duty you so stalwartly handle each pre crack of dawn, I missed your sense of humor. It is your sense of humor that can turn my irritation (towards you, towards the world) into more mild irritation.

I still laugh out loud when I remember you comforting me that our wedding photos of me are not bad (they are) by saying "You look beautiful. I look like I should barely be allowed to drive." Somehow, this is so much funnier than the old "I look retarded" routine.

I also like to think about you telling me, after a recent adventure to Hair Cuttery, where anything could happen to you hair, and has, that this was the shortest your hair had been since you were 8 months old. (I like it, btw).

And you have made so much progress in the last four years. Remember when you did not know better than to tell me an actress was good looking (I will hate Audrey Tatoo forever!), or make a similar comment about my hairstylist (that's right, Lindsay, I know you remember this)? My jealousy has been turned away through a combination of realizing that you just like women who look like you with a wig (this says nothing about me) and your new-found silence on the subject of the attractiveness of other clearly attractive women. Good job. Also, you eat all my food with the expected compliments, you help me pick out good shoes, you never get upset with me about spending money (I am good about this, but I also don't feel pressure from you to be so), and you try to get me to Church for the first hour without being completely self-righteous. Just a quiet and sincere: "I would sort of like to take the sacrament this month," to get me out of bed. My dad commented last night that you were the one man who could make even the neediest, most helpless woman on earth happy in marriage. I choose to ignore what he could be saying about me, here, and instead focus on the compliment to you.

Thank you for always maintaining your sense of humor, and helping me keep mine, for supporting me through everything, and for letting me get away with so much. We have fun, and you're for me and I'm for you, and even if you accidentally said that loving me was not easier than anythign you'll ever do again, I know that deep down, it really is.

So, these words are yours, and be the measure of their worth for you to treasure, the measure of the little while that you were long away.

xo
alexandra

Andrew's Winter Days

Andrew loves the snow. On Thursday night, I took him out to our courtyard armed with millions of layers, a coat, hat and mittens. He loved it. He was so focused that he would not even speak to me or request that I "be so sad" (so that he could come over to me with a big smile and give me a hug to fix it) or "say 'awesome Andrew'" to praise whatever he is doing. He picked up snow and tried to make balls, and then concentrated on throwing them. Baby Will did not like our outing at all, particularly since the cold was compounded by the slush droshing (this means 'falling in big cold splatters') down on our faces. Andrew ignored my suggestion that we go back inside, so I decided to just go in and watch him enjoy his first enjoyable snowfall through the glass door.

It was a typical dark early evening and I just watched his little red puffy coat manuevering around, outlined against the white snow and the stone fountain. He had his tiny birthday party in that exact spot only a few months ago, back when the world was blue and hot and bright and baby Will had yet to bless it. I realized that we had not really visited the courtyard much, if at all, since that day in October. The fountain no longer had water, or ducks to swim in it, or Piper to almost drown in it, as it did on the day of the party, and its presence against the darkening sky lent an air of formality or old-time grandeur to the whole courtyard, like Andrew were playing in a snow-covered museum or the place I imagined as a 6 year old reading the part of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe where all the Witch's stone creatures were kept.

Or maybe it just felt like a museum to me because all his little paths and places are taking on the sense of by-gone days already. I am watching him grow up and transform so quickly from the little baby that has been keeping me awake for unnatural periods of time into a little boy who prays about his cars, who jumps over cracks and up and down the big cement steps we find every few feet on Connecticut Avenue and other streets my dad's 12 year old feet trod 50 plus years ago, who can negotiate 'real cookies' into our struggles to get him to eat actual food, who looks at the man with the prosthetic leg and declares solemnly and loudly and clearly, inches from the missing limb, "that man got hurt, mommy," over and over again, who can climb up and down 12 foot ladders with horrifying speed, who is on the look-out for wolves on our adventures down the bike trail, who says please, thank you and no thank you almost every time he should, who can tell me "I'm saying so many words" and explain himself with an "I'm so sad" when I won't let him do something even more dangerous than the ladder stunts and who, when he sees me watching him with a sadness of my own in those moments when I recognize that I can't slow this progress down or ever revisit these passing days again but in my memory, which he won't share, can say to me "Be so happy, Mommy," surprising me that on some level he knows it is a sadness I am feeling--the sadness that, for me, always accompanies every deeply happy moment.

He finally tired of being outside alone (it must have been this, as he is completely impervious to extreme temperatures) and so made his toddler way over to join us inside in the warmth of which is is totally unaware. Because I am no artist and it would be pointless / frustrating for me to do so, I have rarely even thought about capturing a moment in time with my own pencil, but as he threw his last snowball and turned towards the door, I wished I could draw the scene before me. I suppose I will just have to be satisfied with my memory of it: my little boy, just two, in his red puffy coat and hat, so small against the huge black sky looming around him and the big empty fountain stretching upwards, glowing faintly in the winter evening like a marker in a cemetary. Some things a camera misses, anyway. Though you won't remeber these days, I hope you will keep with you the feeling of this time in our lives together. I am so happy, Andrew.

Greatest Weaknesses

I have many weaknessess. I love too much. I try too hard. I am too perfect. That is what you should say when asked this in job interviews. It both sounds sincere and is very winning.

Here are some more wonderful responses to the "What is your greatest weakness" question of which we should all be aware, since these people want to be our President. Also, these are hilarious.

John Edwards: My greatest weakness is that I care too much, Tim. For 54 years, I've been fighting. I emerged from the womb with my dukes up, ready to do battle with every fiber of my day-old being.

Hillary Clinton: My greatest weakness is that I get impatient — impatient with people who don't care as much about children as I do.

Barack Obama: My greatest weakness? Sometimes I misplace stuff. I'm a little disorganized. It's probably a good thing I'm not in charge of my own schedule.

Are these people serious? I don't even know them personally and I can come up with some better weaknesses than these. At least Obama had the sense to mention a real weakness, not just a strength dressed up as a "weakness." Ok, it is a dumb question that is not going to yield a great answer, but come on.

Go Mitt. Your greatest weakness is that you are a member of a faith unpopular with the Republican base. Let's hope you can overcome it.

Christmas in DC: Family Traditions

Before we get too far away from Christmas, a little recap of things to do in DC at Christmastime. Note, we did all of these things in one long day of the 22nd as part of our family Christmas Party in Washington (all cousins, aunts, maternal grandparents). Will repeat next year.

1. National Cathedral Children's Nativity Reenactment
This takes place the Saturday afternoon before Christmas and is perfect for little kids. The beauty of "Andrew's favorite castle" adds to the wonderful Christmas spirit. It was also nice to see that our attempts to teach Andrew the Christmas story had been successful. After the introduction of each cast of characters, Andrew would wonder where the remaining characters were. "Where are the angels?" after the Holy Family arrived; "where the animals?" after the shepherds.

Until this event, we had no way of knowing whether he understood there was anything more to the first Christmas than the scenes he enacted with the little plastic Nativity set he received as a party favor. These scenes involved the donkey and sheep biting (and I hate to admit, but sometimes eating) baby Jesus until Mary comes to rescue Him with her soothing "sh, sh, sh!"

2. Botanical Gardens Christmas Exhibit:
This featured wonderful little train sets, both inside the building and out, and the city of Washington in miniature cerca 1920 set amidst enormous and beautifully decorated Christmas trees (again, with a train running through.) We went twice, once during the day with friends and again on the evening of the 22nd. I recommend the night viewing because it made the lighting in the exhibit that much more magical.

3. National Christmas tree and reindeer:
We did this, also the night of the 22nd. It was fine, but would have been better if it had not been so cold and Andrew so thoroughly un-napped and the grounds so very swamped with hordes of people.

4. Dinner out with desserts afterwards at our apartment
This didn't take place as planned. No reservations plus not sticking to original time frame plus tired kids = picking up pizzas at the local pizza parlor. They were delicious. Even my dad, who hates pizza (and anything that isn't red meat, still very very red, really) loved it. If we were to eat out, though, we would have done it at 2 Amy's, a wonderful and family-friendly pizza place at Wisonsin Ave and Macomb. If we had no budgetary considerations, we would have done it at 1789.

5. White Elephant on a small budget:
No one brought anything, so I wrapped up a bunch of stuff laying around my house. The kids were thrilled with their winnings: dandruff shampoo, a little picture frame I've had for 3 years and never put anything in, McDonald's toys, flower seeds, CDs from the Gap we somehow acquired. Andrew opened the frame and rejoiced over it, jumping up and down and exclaiming, "Andrew got a present! Look, look!" The frame went home with Emma, however, who wisely traded him her crappy McDonald's car. Everyone was happy.

6. Reenact Luke 2
Didn't do it. Next year.

7. Christmas Eve at an Indian restaurant in McLean
After the McLean Ward Christmas carol program. Lots of fun, but Dad swore of Indian for good after this. They don't serve hamburgers.

8. Train Display at Union Station
Will do next year.

9. Driving through Pimmit Hills to look at the over-the-top decorations on one of the houses. The owner had been putting out an extravagent display for many many years. It was something of a local legend, and his house attracted basically everyone in the area to do a drive-by during late December. He is very elderly now, and when he became too feeble to put up his display, the fire department came to sustain the tradition. I love it. Other houses in the neighborhood follwed his lead to please the crowds. Its great.

Prince William the Perfect: 2 month achievements

Baby Will is the type of baby I never believed really existed. When he is tired, I lay him in his crib with his pacifier and he goes to sleep. When I am tired, I lay him in his crib with his pacifier and he goes to sleep. At night, he typically sleeps from midnight until 7. Thank you, Baby Will.

Will is tough. He can roll over from front to back. He pushes himself way up high and then falls onto his side. He first did this to celebrate his 2 month birthday. He also takes some tough love from Andrew without shedding a tear (except for the one time A b-slapped him, but that was awhile ago, when Will was much younger than he is now.)

Will is friendly. We like to look at each other and smile. Pretty soon after we exchange some smiles, he starts talking and singing. When I talk and sing back, he smiles even more. He has also started laughing. The sound was so loud that I initially thought he was about to cry, but his big baby smile dispelled my fears. Even though he has had a hacking cough the last week, he is still happy and playful.

Will tolerates being put down to look at his little striped zebra, or placed in his little seat so that I can attend to Andrew or other things for what seems to me to be quite a long time. I guess my perspective on this has been skewed by Andrew, who cried the moment his back touched any surface that was not human.

But his easy-going nature seemed so unnatural to me that I began to worry. "Brigham, to you think there is something wrong with Will?" His answer sums up our feelings about our new baby: "No, I think there is something awesome with Will."

Andrew has also come around on his feelings for Will. "We best friends." "Don't cry, baby, Andrew's here!" "Mommy, help my baby!" (this was said angrily, as if I were neglecting a very important duty) "My baby's happy!" "Baby Will I love you so much" or, racing around the downstairs of my parents' home in a semi-panic while I was upstairs soothing a crying Will, "Oh no, my baby's crying!"

Heart-stopping Andrew-Will interaction of the week: I left Will lying on the couch with Andrew cooing to him so I could grab a baby hat off the other end of the dining table. Not a far distance, but anything can happen in an instant, which was my immediate thought when I turned my back to get the hat. I turned back around only to see Andrew, still standing next to the couch, with baby Will in his arms. That apartment is almost 100 years old, but I don't think anyone has moved across its old floors as quickly as I did when I saw that. Don't worry, Momo, no harm done. And lesson learned.

What My Kids Have Taught Me About Parenting

Last Sunday at church, a member of the bishopric asked me what I had learned in my time as a stay-at-home mom. I think he was disappointed by my non-response to the motherhood question. All I could think of was that kids can survive on very very little food, but I don't think that was what he was looking for.

But I have learned a lot being a mom--a lot about myself and kids and life and marriage, and a lot about pretty mundane things, too, like organization and cooking. I think most moms have learned the same things, but I thought I would post a few of them anyway, and hopefully I can get some additional ideas back from you all. I sometimes feel like the tiny sidekick guy to Gaston in Beauty and the Beast when I give compliments, so I will take this opportunity to say that I really admire you guys as mothers and I often want to seek advice from you but feel embarrassed to ask (again, because I feel like I transform into that tiny guy). Ok, in no particular order:

1. Scary stories promote reverence:
Maybe I should use the word "exciting" instead of scary (less funny but more accurate). I learned this one from my dad, and it really works. (Audrey, this is how my dad subdued Owen when you gave your beautiful talk on Mother's Day.) Your toddler is getting noisy and rowdy in church, or throwing a public and humiliating tantrum? Choose a subject matter that is just thrilling enough without causing nightmares later (wolves, for my boy), and whisper a suspenseful tale involving your child and your chosen Thriller in his ear. These aren't stories of wolves ripping people's throats out or anything; they are usually good, misunderstood wolves seeking friendship. But there is always some suspense. Sure, Andrew now has a mild obsession with wolves. There are times when will be on the trampoline at my parents' house and he will suddenly spot a wolf, requiring us to run inside. But he is laughing as we run. He requests wolf stories all the time. (Have I ruined my credibility already?)

2. Kids are not born with blank slates:
Kids come with individual predispositions. Sure, we can mess positive predispositions up or improve negative ones, but we should curb the guilt or pride. They were just born that way.

3. People writing books on child care are in it for the money:
This does not mean that they do not have anything helpful to offer etc. On the contrary. But if you have read as many as I have, you will notice that they often attack each other's philosophies. Babywise folks think anyone who feeds their baby when he is hungry rather than three hours after the last feed is spoiling their child, while Dr Sears thinks the Babywise crowd and the Ferber people are failing to form a connection to their kids, and even that you risk causing 'baby depression' if you don't let your baby sleep in your bed. They get rich if their particular brand of parenting catches on. Read the books to get ideas, bearing in mind that the writers are trying to make a living. Then do what works for you and your family.

4. Buy a lot of your kids' clothes and toys from Thrift Stores:
But don't go too overboard. Things are so cheap that there is a temptation to buy a lot, but you can end up wasting money this way, and 3 dollars here and there does add up. The key is to be able to go to thrift stores often, since sometimes a trip will be fruitless. Also, go to the right thrift stores. The Treasure Trove in McLean is the most expensive one, but you can still find worthwhile purchases. Vienna and Falls Church, and the Goodwill in Arlington, are much better in price and variety. Cheapest of all are garage sales.

5. Have your child bid Farewell to his toy or activity to tear him away peacefully
This stops working as the kid gets older, but as long as it does work, it is a dream. It doesn't matter how engrossed your child is in that toy at the store; if you can get him to wave and say goodbye to it, suddenly he will be amenable to leaving it behind.

6. There is no such thing as nipple confusion
Start with pacifiers from day 1. (Unles your baby really is having a hard time nursing, but do the pacifiers sooner rather than later or the window will disappear.)

7. Even tiny kids can clean and help out. I think every kid should have a baby janitorial set. :)

8. Sleep Conditioning is Real
Some kids are naturally better sleepers than others, and some just require a little less or a little more sleep. No matter what brand of sleeper you have, he can be conditioned to stay up even later or go to bed at roughly the time you want. I probably should not say anything on this subject, since we are still trying to Take Back the Night from Andrew, but I have learned from negative experience that kids' bodies can get used to the amount of sleep they regularly get, and if they regularly don't get a lot, it will just get harder and harder to get them to sleep--I am referring to naps, too. (And by "getting used to" an amount of sleep, I don't mean that they won't be cranky necessarily. They will just be awake.)

9. A lot of tantrums come from boredom.
Andrew needs lots of outdoor time to run around, even when it is cold.

10. Breastfeed.
I hesitate to include this, since I know it is not possible or practical for some moms, and I don't mean to suggest that your baby's health or relationship with you will suffer some terrible blow if you don't nurse. It was just such a wonderful part of the mothering experience for me, and one that initially I thought would be very very hard, that I feel I should mention it. (If you hate it, obviously don't force yourself.)

11. Let them choose between two alternatives you are happy with
If Andrew fights me about putting on his coat, I then offer him another alternative acceptable to me and he can make a choice between the two. For some reason he never refuses both. This works with minor discipline, too. If he is running away, then the choice becomes whether he wants to run in the right direction or get carried (or stroller).

12. The amount of time matters
It takes a lot of quality time to make up for the quantity time you don't spend with your kids. I think the "quality time" thing is sometimes just a way to avoid feeling guilty for not being around your kids very much. The truth is, in my view, that kids just want and need to spend their ordinary, everyday moments of their little lives with their moms. That, in itself, is extraordinary, and it is what they will remember because it will be part of who they are.


I don't mean to be too predictably maudlin here, but the number 1 thing I have learned is that childhood passes so quickly, and babies become toddlers before you even realize it. This time won't last, so we've got to treasure it and not wish for the future and retirement. It will be here before we are ready.

On Beauty

About 6 months ago, I began training Andrew to tell me that I was pretty. It worked really well for a while. (Somebody has to, right Brig?) I would solicit, "Is Mommy pretty?" and Andrew would reply, "Yes pretty" or "Mommy pretty." It was great. Then he learned what pretty means, and it has been down hill ever since. Now I wish I had not introduced the concept at all. He no longer feeds me my solicited compliments. Instead, my queries receive a telling silence or "Mommy no pretty." Last night he said I was ugly, but I will conceed that he does not know what that word means. I just asked him if I was ugly since he would not say I was pretty.

Brigham insists that Andrew doesnt know what he is saying. But, as much as I wished I believed that, I am pretty certain he does. For example, he will sometimes pronounce other women we see as "pretty." And they usually are, like the (very pretty) young woman walking down the hallway of our apartment complex. Andrew was watching her, and then pointed, declaring happily, "she pretty!" Models are pretty, too, when I test out his mastery of the word with the use of magazines.

While at a family gathering at my parents' house the other night, Andrew sat with Katie and Jessie watching country music videos (Katie discovered during the summer of 05, when Andrew was 7 months old, that Andrew loved this station). When I returned to the room, my sisters reported that Andrew had suddenly blurted out, "She's pretty," about the woman in the video. No, it wasn't Shania. It was Dolly Parton, and even if I thought Dolly was pretty, this was not her most flattering video. I don't know what the song was, but she was wearing a tiny cocktail sort of dress that made her look very trashy and old, and something about how she looked got Katie insisting in all seriousness that Dolly Parton suffered from dwarfism. Andrew, if you think Dolly is pretty, maybe I don't mind if you think I am ugly.

Beauty Part 2:
Andrew gave his first completely spotaneous and unprompted prayer last night. It went like this, Momo:

"Heavenly Father, Thank you for my cars. Go to sleep. Name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

We always pray that Andrew will go to sleep, partly to reinforce to Andrew that he is about to go to sleep and partly to implore for divine intervention to make him sleep. So that is where the "go to sleep" part came from. We have never thanked Heavenly Father for Andrew's toys, though. That was all him. It was so sweet to hear from his own little heart what he wanted to say to the Lord. I hope that someday soon Andrew will appreciate this kind of beauty more than the kind of beauty he now appreciates in Dolly Parton.

The following are quotes from Dolly's own mouth about her look:

"I describe my look as a blend of mother goose, cinderella, and the local hooker!"
"It takes a lot of money to make a person look this cheap!"

(I mean, Dolly Parton is a really good person, but I am fairly sure Andrew doesn't know about her inner life.) I am looking forward to him learning to appreciate the inner beauty or spiritually beautiful things (and whatever form of beauty is poor mom has to offer!). In the meantime, I will settle for him just developing mildly better taste.

new year's resolution

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury,pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.


O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen

St. Francis of Assisi said it best; what more can I say?