Happy Father's Day to my Hub

He is my husband and the father of our children. But those titles do not do him justice. He makes our boys feel special and valued. Here are just a few of the reasons I pat myself on the back for marrying and having children with my Hub. 


He has shown me how to be patient with my boys.


He allows our boys to be the daredevils that they are and (most of the time) he proves my worrying wrong. 


He shows our boys what love looks like. 


He always strives to make our boys' day the "best day ever!" 


He is slow to anger/frustration and fast to recover from anger/frustration. 


He then apologizes for his anger or frustration if it is unwarranted. 


He makes sure our boys are safe, happy and cared for at all times. 


He tells our boys that they are his "best buddies." 


He recognizes our boys unique and different abilities. 


He talks to them about his childhood. 


He shows them that it is ok to be wrong or make a mistake. 


He shows them how to apologize. 


He never misses a little league, coach pitch baseball game and when our First Born is playing he watches as if the Phillies are in the world series. 


He cuddles with our Little One. 


He is very sensitive to our First Born's fears at bedtime and much more patient than I am. 


He introduces them to all kinds of music. 


He loves watching them belly laugh at the Three Stooges.


He will watch train videos ad nausuem with our boys. 


He will even purchase more train videos so that they can watch them when he is not home. 


He surprises them with stickers/hard hats/clip boards/"important papers" that he "finds" at work.


He explains to them when he is tired from working so much and tolerates it when they ignore his explanation. 


He enthusiastically takes them hiking and fishing and exploring. 


He will dig holes on the beach until it is unsafe for the general public to walk on said beach, just because the boys want more holes in the sand.  


He teaches them the value of hard work and doing things right the first time. 


He shows them the importance of being a true Philadelphia Sports fan, through thick and thin. No bandwagoners allowed! 


He not only allows but encourages them to be goofy. 


He demonstrates this goofiness daily. 


He gives me hugs and kisses in front of them. 


He makes me laugh almost as much as they do. 


He drives me crazy, in both the good way and the bad way. 


He loves me for the crazy that I am. 


He consistently shows our boys what an amazing father and loving husband looks like, every day. 


Happy Father's Day My Love!

Waiting on the Verdict and the Millstone

The trial of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania v. William J. Lynn, Edward V. Avery and James Brennan has come to a close. We are now awaiting the verdict. I followed the trial closely. There is a man named Ralph Cipriano who is a veteran reporter and one of 30 journalists accredited by the Philadelphia district attorney's office to cover the case. He has been reporting on the trial daily on his blog sponsored by the Beasly Firm.  I read his blog along with the articles in Philly.com, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Daily News and the AP. Ralph's blog was by far the most concise, independent, and non biased account of the trial. I really respect his insight and his candor. Ralph raised many concerns about both the defense and the prosecution's cases. One being that the prosecution seemed to be a bit long winded, with so much evidence and information, that it may have been too much to digest, for the jury. The other being that the prosecution had hammered Msgr Lynn too hard on cross examination. In the words of (kopride) one of the commenters on his blog: "nobody likes rats, but if you watched a kid tie a string to a rat, and torture it for hours, you would start rooting for the rat." Yet another problem for the prosecution was their "smoking gun" - the 1994 list of pedophile priests composed by Lynn and ordered to be shredded by Cardinal Bevilacqua - was also being used by the defense. The defense was using it to show that Lynn was just a patsy, a scapegoat, and the real guilty one is, the conveniently dead, Cardinal Bevilacqua.

That was the defense's mantra all along. That Lynn had no real power to do anything to the pedophile's in the Archdiocese. Accept of course, recommend that they get treatment or hand them their assignment to the next unsuspecting parish. When parishioners wrote, called or sat down with Lynn and told their horrific stories to him, he had a hand written note in front of him, telling him, "Never admit to victims that there are other cases."  And he didn't. He never told these people that they were not alone. That Fr. Gana, or Dux, or Sicoli, or Avery or Brennan, had other victims who were suffering just like they were. He quietly listened, and told them that he would take care of it. Then did nothing. And more children suffered.

There are some things that the trial showed that hopefully the people in the pews will take notice of. Priests stand together. They make a vow of obedience to their superiors. They are moved higher in the ranks when they play by the rules and don't rock the boat. But, in the real world, if an HR manager had a file of 35 employees whom were accused of raping children, and some of them even admitted it; wouldn't the moral, legal and ethical thing to be done, would be, call the police? If the statute of limitations passed wouldn't you at least get these men away from children? Wouldn't a normal person tell parishioners to be extra careful and guard their children? Maybe even have some sort of counseling for the possible effected families? In the real world most would even risk losing their jobs to make sure that innocent children are protected from these monsters. But Lynn did not live in the real world. He lived in a much safer world. Mgsr. Lynn’s lack of compassion and empathy for the powerless and his reverence and awe of the powerful are what this trial has shown, (if nothing else.) The difference of him standing up to his superiors and speaking out for the victims (either by going to the police/parishioners/press/screaming it from the rooftops!) and someone in the secular community doing so is that HE would not loose his job/livelihood. HE is a priest and guaranteed a job, a home, food, a pension, insurance and PROTECTION! So he stood to lose NOTHING by standing up for what was right. For standing up and saying I WILL NOT STAND BY AND ALLOW THIS TO HAPPEN UNDER MY NOSE. Not to mention that he is a PREIST and supposed to do that ANYWAY, regardless! That is his CALLING! SO I can feel no compassion for his decisions. I can feel no compassion for his situation. It was a lack of even a shred of courage. Because he did not stand to lose anything, accept, being in the good graces of his Cardinal.

Is what he did/didn't do criminal? In my opinion, Yes. Is what he did/didn't do immoral? Absolutely Yes. Will the jury come to the same conclusion? I really don't know. I would not be surprised if they didn't. But no matter what the outcome, the work of exposing the truth in the Catholic Church is not done. The light needs to be shown bright on everyone who knew and did nothing when children were being raped and tortured.

A newer story just surfaced. Cardinal Dolan, when he was Archbishop of Milwaukee and who is now cardinal archbishop of New York and head of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, paid off pedophiles! What is better than moving a pedophile to another unsuspecting parish? Give him $20,000.00 and release him to the public with a clean record. Oh and cover his health insurance.  It makes me sick. Substantiated allegations of child rape and molestation were made against priests in Milwaukee. The solution in Cardnial Dolan's mind was to give them money to leave the preisthood. Hell, it was cheaper than paying all those victims and then the priests were not his problem. He could very biblically "wash his hands of it." After they paid off their "problem priests" they filed for bankruptcy so they would not have to pay the victims. Apparently this is the m.o. for most Archdiocese when faced with a lot of troublesome lawsuits against their brother priests.  They file for bankruptcy and then claim they don't have the money to pay the abuse victims. They then bounce back and are off scott free! All the while, the money keeps rolling in every Sunday. And for all those that still think that unscrupulous people are lining up for a payday; Fewer than 2 percent of sexual abuse allegations against the Catholic church appear to be false.

So I can not even venture a guess as to the outcome of the first Catholic official prosecuted and brought to a jury trial on criminal charges of endangering the welfare of children by failing to investigate and report allegations of child abuse. I hope it is just and swift. But I am not holding my breath. The next trial that will be like this one is coming up against Kansas City Bishop Robert Finn. Interestingly enough, he is blaming Msgr. Robert Murphy, who is Lynn's counterpart in Kansas City. Lynn blames Bevilacqua, Finn blames Murphy.... NO one in the Church is taking responsibility. Everyone is passing the buck, closing ranks and protecting their own brother priests. Who is looking out for the vulnerable?

They better start listening to Jesus. He said, "'Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me; and whoever ensnares one of these little ones who trust me, it would be better for him to have a millstone hung around his neck and be drowned in the open sea! Woe to the world because of snares! For there must be snares, but woe to the person who sets the snare!..... See that you never despise one of these little ones, for I tell you that their angels in heaven are continually seeing the face of my Father in heaven." Matthew 18,5-11

Since they didn't listen to the big man, they better get their swim trunks and millstones ready!

My Love of Irish Women

I am attracted to Irish women. I surround myself with them. From the earliest friends I ever picked to my current harem, they are all Irish Americans. I am married to an Italian, Croatian, Slovakian, American man. He has no Irish heritage that we know of, but there is still hope. 


For the most part I am Italian American. Although, my mother's paternal grandmother was Irish. I am still doing research to find out more about when and where in Ireland that part of my family came from. My best friend for the past 23 years, Jenny, is of Irish decent. In 1st grade, the first person I ever picked, for myself, as a friend, was Shannon Brown - about as Irish as they come. When I was born I was instantly friends with Alexis. Her mother and my mother were friends, therefore we did not have a choice, but have remained friends to this day.... Oh she is only half Irish, but it is a pretty big half. I had another childhood friend, Nicole, who, although she was Korean, was raised by Irish parents. In middle school there was Amy and Megan. When I was in High School, I became very good friends with Colleen, again, really Irish, really fun. Then I befriended Molly, Sue, and Jenny and then Melanie, Maureen, Shannon and Donna. All more Irish than the next. I am totally serious here. I am not making up random names. The list goes on. Just in the past few years I have become close friends with Michele, Katie, and just met a new friend, who I clicked with, Noreen; you guessed it, all Irish. Oh, I just made a new facebook friend, who is a blogger, and is... wait for it... Irish American! Her name is Bethany and her blog is www.4godsakesboys.com. She is a riot and an amazing story teller. (check her out) 


Although my friends share the same heritage, they have very different personalities, backgrounds, and life experiences. In trying to analyze this phenomenon, I have figured out the one thing that attracts me to them is that they let me be me. They don't seem to mind me. Most of them find me pretty amusing. I feel good being around them and they are all very easy going and thoughtful. Now I am not sure if these traits are specific to their Irish heritage or if it is just some amazing coincidence that all the women I ever let get close to me, share that heritage. We do have lots in common, agree on major stuff, and there is no competition between us. In that we like each other for the different ways we handle things. I am, well, kinda loud. When I say kinda loud, I mean overpowering. I lack tact. I am only 5 ft tall so I have a bit of a Napoleon complex and if you set me off, most people in the tri-state area will know about it. See, I am not that easy to get along with, because I don't have much of a filter. Also, I can be a real pain in the ass when it comes to controlling things, like driving, and planning, and conversations. I tend to control it all. But, hey, I am working on it. And if I did not control some things, it would not get done properly. (See what I mean?) I would not describe my current Irish besties as "loud," although they get their point across loud and clear and most importantly... They actually like me! I think I may be their comic relief. The quirky/crazy sidekick, in their particular sitcom. 


I really love my Mick girlfriends. They are beautiful, fun and full of life. They make me laugh and allow me to cry. My best friend Jenny, knows me as well as my husband does, (maybe better) and she still loves me. She allows me to be my messed up self and accepts me. She is the kindest most considerate woman I know and she is a ferocious protector of those she loves. She is not loud or demanding, but if you ever need to get something done or need help in any way, she is your perfect advocate. Michele, who is a more recent friend, is another person who allows me to be myself. She also accepts me and although she is not a loud mouth Italian, we have so much in common, it is scary. We both have been through very similar circumstances in our lives and lived to tell about it! She is extremely kind and more fun than you can shake a stick at. 


So there it is, my true confession of my love for Irish women! No matter what our heritage, us women need other women in our lives. We need to have that support system of people who do not judge us, or try to fix us, or condescend to us. We need fellow women to bounce ideas off of and hash out dilemmas. We need our girlfriends to lift us up and support us and tell us like it is without crushing us. Now I do have a husband who does all these things too. But it is different, in that I am IN love with him. So his support is a little more intimate. But my girlfriends, well, they give me strength. So, if I ever get to Ireland, I may never return! But only if I can bring my girlfriends with me!

Screaming Banshee Moms, UNITE!

Compass Study (Photo credit: Calsidyrose)

When I first became a mother, I read every book and consumed as much information as I could from the myriad of resources out there. I love me some Google!  The problem with Google is, you can find out ANY information out there but you have to know what you are looking for. It is the virtual compass. A compass does not tell you where to go it just gives you the direction you are heading. If you don't know where you want to go, a compass can not get you there. There are as many different parenting theories out there as there are parents. Trying to find my style was not as easy as I thought it would be. It still isn't. I feel like I go back and forth from doing what I know is right and resorting back to the screaming banshee that I find comes natural.

The "Screaming Banshee Mom", is only heard when she is yelling at the highest of decibels. 

She must repeat herself at least 5 times. 

She needs massive amounts of coffee in order to keep her moving. 

She will partially complete about 12 tasks a day, never fully completing any. 

She yells about her child's messy room, when the rest of her house is just as messy. 

Horrible life threatening accidents are constantly running a loop in her brain and she stresses about everything safety related when it comes to her children. 

She has no patience and will continually tell those around her that she has no patience for this/that/you/them. 

She slams things, doors, windows, pots, pans, glasses, utensils. 

She is constantly in need of a deep breath. 

NO one listens to her and everyone talks to her. 

Everyone needs her to do something; usually menial tasks, like putting something away, taking something out, wiping something/someone, cleaning something/someone, etc. 

Animals gravitate to her and want her attention also. 

She is a powerful adversary when it comes to those she protects but powerless when it comes to her own needs. 

She wistfully thinks of times when she was young, single and firm. 

Firmness alludes her and she is pissed. This pissed off feeling never goes away, especially when she sees young, single and firm people in her midst. 

She will bite your head off if you criticize her parenting skills. If you are her spouse, and you criticize, she will follow the biting of the head with a foot up your ass. 

She needs a break. Even in the middle of the night when she gets up to pee, her brain starts and does not stop. Always looking for ways to manage her time more efficiently. 

She murmurs to herself and answers her own questions, since no one will talk to her. 

When she screws up, she is infuriated that someone else didn't screw up. 

She yells at her children to "Stop Yelling!" 

She cries for her children to stop crying. 

She whines that her children whine. 

NOW, stop judging.

I used to judge these moms. Before I had children I thought "I will NEVER do that." Then I had children and I did that! 

We are not perfect moms. There is no such thing. Because even if you do everything right and you are consistent, kind, loving and patient - when they reach their twenties and see a therapist - your kids will still find a way to blame you for something.  Why not make it worth that therapist's while?

Don't get me wrong. I do not advocate for being a "Screaming Banshee Mom." 

Do I find it a problem that "Screaming Banshee Mom" comes to me so naturally? YES. 

Do I fight it on a daily/hourly basis? HELL YES. 

Does the "Screaming Banshee Mom" rear her ugly head every now and again? Most definitely! 

But, I figure it's not so bad because if my kids are going to therapy in their twenties anyway, at least, I am giving them something to complain about. None of this mamby-pamby "I didn't feel valued as a child" bullshit.  Lets go for the full force "My mother was a crazy screaming lunatic who talked to herself and was always putting her foot up my dad's ass!" THAT's therapy worthy. Let's give them something to talk about. Who's with me?

Screaming Banshee Mom's UNITE!

Parodies in Real Life

The Roman Catholic Church is being almost a parody of itself lately.  I mean how much more Python-esque can it get?  We have the ongoing Philadelphia Priest abuse trial. Right now it is on it’s 6th week.  Six weeks of damning testimony against Monsignor Lynn and against the Archdiocese in general. These “holy” men who admittedly shuffled around known pedophiles to parish after parish.   They protected these monsters until the statute of limitations ran out and then let them go.  Now they are living where ever they want.  Like across the street from playgrounds.  We also have another priest on trial, Fr. Brennan, who has ADMITTED to allowing a 14 year old boy watch porn on his computer, drink alcohol and then sleep in his bed with him.  This is what Brennan called    "borderline inappropriate" Borderline?  Really?  So when this child who is now a 30 yr old man says that Fr. Brennan did even more than what he admitted to, who are you going to believe?  Well, I for one believe the victim.  

Then we have the Vatican’s own, Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) formerly know as Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Universal Inquisition (yes THAT Inquisition) writing a scathing report on one of their own.  NO one expects the INQUISITION!   In case you need to brush up on your history here the best take on the Inquisition. (The genius that is Mel Brooks)The CDF came down hard on those crazy do-gooder nuns.  They appointed a Bishop (who has a penis) to oversee these crazy “radical feminists.” Yes, these mostly older nuns who have long since stripped off their habits and taken their own names back. They are no longer forced into classrooms with 40 kids.  These new fangled crazy sisters work with the fringe of society, the poorest of the poor, the mentally ill, the old, the sick, the hungry, the teenage single mothers, the homeless and the dying . The Bishops deal with power these women deal with the powerless.  They do not tow the line of the Bishops and their political interests.  These nuns do not stand up and yell about contraception, abortion, school vouchers and fighting the Statute of Limitations for child victims of sexual abuse. They are too busy doing the work that.... well, Jesus did.  Helping those who need it the most.  They agreed with the Obama administration in passing the Health Care bill.  No matter where you stand on the issue, these nuns are caring for the very people whom the bill will help, the poorest of the poor.  So naturally the nuns would be for it.  But when this happened, the Bishops got very angry at these uppity nuns, who would not back them and their Republican agenda.  They were also angry that the nuns were making decisions on their own and not consulting them.  So what did they do...... issued the Inquisition! (No one expects the CDF!) The crazy radical nuns have 5 yrs to get in line, report to the good Bishop in charge of them, and do what they are told.  If not they can find another religion. Did the Vatican feel this strongly about it’s pedophile priests? Ummm NO,  they just tried to cover it up as much as possible.   I think it would have been much better if the Vatican issued the Inquisition on the nuns of over 35 years ago when they were beating the crap out of my generation and past generations.  They were the crazy ones!  Not all, but quite a few of them were vicious mean people.  

Then there is a Catholic school teacher who was having problems with infertility.  She was fired from her job, by the Monsignor, who called her a “grave, immoral sinner,” because she went through Invitro Fertilization Treatment.  This is a big no-no in the Catholic Church.  You can not create life in any other way but in the missionary position, in the dark, partially clothed and with a feeling of self loathing.  Oh and if you CAN get pregnant that way, don’t EVER prevent getting pregnant by using any form of contraception.   "Every Sperm is Sacred"  

So have I provided enough parody of the craziness?  Here is one more and it makes the most sense.  Dogma .  

Small Disclaimer:   I grew up with a sincere appreciation of Monty Python, Mel Brooks and the like.  It was completely my father’s fault.  He would let me stay up late just to watch certain Python clips or Brook’s movies.  SO if you don’t like my sense of humor, just remember to  “Always look on the bright side of life!” 

Get Away!

Ahhhh.  The Hub and I got away for a long weekend without the kids to celebrate our anniversary.  It was so needed. Not just for us but for the kids too.  We reconvened a much happier group.  The boys and our dog spent the weekend with my parents.  Nana and PopPop.  Nana and PopPop are rock stars.  They are the end-all and be-all of grandparents.  They are fun and take the boys everywhere they want to go.  They adore our children and our children adore them right back.  Nana and PopPop took the kids to the the local Wetlands Institute http://wetlandsinstitute.org/  where the boys got to pet flounder, skate, and horseshoe crabs. They also got to see an octopus get a crab out of a 2 liter soda bottle.  Very cool stuff.  They went to the beach and played in the sand and dug holes and chased the waves.  They ate good they slept good and had a wonderful time.  The dog even seemed happier.  She followed my father everywhere he went.  

The Hub and I went about 5 miles away from them to Cape May, NJ. We could fully relax and laughed a lot.  We laughed at the bed and breakfast we stayed in.  It was a little beat up and the coffee was horrible.  We also think that our inn keeper was pulling tubes on a daily basis.  We went to a bar and drank.  I can’t tell you the last time I sat at a bar and drank with my husband.  I think it was so long ago, you could still smoke at a bar.  We trash talked about people. We walked around the town and ate really good food.  We talked about how neither of us could imagine NOT having kids.  We revisited the possibility of adopting another.  Raising kids seems to give such a sense of love, a capacity of love that I never knew existed.   We sat on the beach bundled up in jackets and we laughed a lot.  

I have to say, I really, really like the man that I married 11 years ago. I think that he is probably one of the best human beings I know.  He is kind, funny and caring.  He is so smart and has accomplished so much in his life.  We talked about whether or not 11 years ago, we could have pictured where we are now, with 2 beautiful kids, a dog and a cat (the same cat my husband found in 1993!) I think that I pictured something like that when we got married. But before I met him, I could not in my wildest dreams, have pictured the wonderful life we have now.  I would have never thought that I would be this happy and in such a great place with such a great husband.  I was not a happy person for a long time.  I hid who I was and what I felt so that I would not feel vulnerable. I put myself in circumstances that made me miserable.  When I decided I was worth it, and started making changes, The Hub came along and renewed my faith in love.  I felt comfortable enough to be my authentic self with him.  He made me feel safe.  He still does.  

So if you have the opportunity, get away with the one that you love.  Remember why you fell in love.  Stop the normal rush and crazy of every day and take a day or two or three just to be together and laugh and joke and feel at ease.  There is nothing better.  We feel renewed and refreshed.  By the time we had to leave we missed the kids and were ready to see them.  I am not too sure the kids were ready to leave Nana and PopPop, but they seemed genuinely happy when we were all back together.   

I know this post is kind of sappy. But I did just get to spend three days and nights with one of my best friends who still turns me on and makes me laugh.  Three days without interruption, without distraction and with each other.  I am one lucky lady!  

P.S. Thank you Nana and PopPop!

Control - Who Needs It? - I DO!

I have control issues.  I tend to control everything.  This is not good for me because it tends to frighten people away and I like people.  I like having friends.  I also like my family and don’t want them to roll their eyes when they see me coming with my calendar and list.  I need to work on that among other things like refusing to be wrong.  I hate being wrong and maybe being in control helps me not be wrong.  Who knows?  I would love for one of my readers to be a psychoanalyst and give me some answers.  

Easter weekend was a busy one.  On Good Friday The Hub had off.  The group, Catholics 4 Change, were having a prayer service/demonstration for the survivors of sexual abuse by priests outside the Cathedral Basilica of St.s  Peter and Paul in Philadelphia.   The original plan was for all of us to go downtown, drop me off for the prayer service then go to Ben Franklin’s house so First Born can do some extra research on his ‘Biography of Benjamin Franklin’ project.   On Thursday Little One woke up crying with a sore throat and a fever.  Scratch the Friday plan, and I go by myself and Hub stays home with the kids.  (this was a discussion and decided the best thing to do...mostly by me) 

The prayer service/demonstration was moving beyond words.  The survivors who were there and spoke are the strongest people I know.  They want nothing but to have their voices heard and believed and for the lying from the Church to stop.  That is ALL they are after.  Standing outside in the bright sunshine, with that group of survivors and supporters, I felt closer to Heaven than I have felt in most churches.  

After the service I went to my car and called The Hubs.  When I call, he is in his car just leaving JimmyJohn’s Hotdogs. Through the phone, I hear our Little One in the back seat saying “Daddy, I tired, I gonna take nappys and if you see any choo choo’s, you wake me up. OK?”   This sent me reeling.  When I asked what they were doing, the Hubs says, “OH, we just got some lunch and now we are going to go to Ben Franklin’s House.”  I see red.  I was emotionally drained from the service.  I. Lose. My. Shit.  

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  OUR SON IS SICK!  HE NEEDS A NAP! WE DECIDED NOT TO TAKE THEM DOWNTOWN TODAY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”  ( I said more, don’t want to kill you with the F bombs) 

Silence. Hubs says “OK, ok, fine, we will not go downtown. When is First Born’s project due?”   I say that I am not sure, a week or two, and he starts asking, “Well, when is it, one or two weeks?  Will we have another day to go down there?”  I inform my husband that I can not pull this information out of my ass at this present moment and that I have now decided to go to my parent’s house for lunch.  He says “OK I gotta go.”  GOOD!  

I took deep breaths and then spent a nice lunch with my parents.  I went to my grandmother’s house, hung out with her, made her dinner and cleaned up.  I finally got home about 7:30pm.  A 9 hour day without children..... Wow, I needed that.  

When I pulled into the driveway, Hub jokingly runs out the door waving his arms like a maniac, thanking me for coming home. This instantly makes me smile and ooze love for him. (there are certain things that he does to make me laugh that get me.... and he knows this!) The kids are in bed, Little One is asleep.  First Born is drifting off.   He shows me the kids bikes and how they went to the bike shop to get 4 new hand grips and a new tire for Little One’s bike that used to be First Born’s.  They had a blast. The Hub was telling me about how everyone was in love with Little One in the bike shop.  Little One is very animated, speaks well and although he is going to be 4 he is still wearing size 2T clothes.  He is a little pip-squeak with huge blue eyes and a messy mop of hair.  You can’t help but fall in love with this kid.  The Hub did not get Little One to nap, but he fell asleep easily enough at 7pm.  I decided that I need to let the control go and we go to bed.  

Fresh start, new day, Saturday before Easter.  I need to chill and let go of some control.  The Hub, hates more than anything to have nothing to do.  He dislikes being around the house.  We settle on the local Children’s Museum.  We decide to take First Born’s best friend J with us.  J lives across the street.  He is a riot and a lot of fun to have around.  J and First Born would live in the same house if they could.  Whenever they are both home, they are together.  It is endearing and I love that kid.  He makes me laugh and is so kind to our Little One too.

All are having a blast at the museum and The Hub and I confer that we want to get something to eat, like a late lunch/early dinner.  I am psyched that we are both on the same page.  The Children’s Museum is on the waterfront with some decent waterfront restaurants that I am looking forward to trying out.   At one point in the Museum, it is about 2:30pm we split up, me with Little One and Hub with the big kids.  About 20 minutes goes by and I am assuming that we are going to wrap things up pretty soon and head to a restaurant.  I go to look for the Hub and find him and the two boys sitting in the Museum cafeteria.  First Born is eating a hotdog and J is eating a piece of pizza.  I am trying to restrain myself and I say to Hub, “I thought we were going to go out to eat?”  He says, defiantly “We are.”   This is interrupted by Little One who wants pizza a a juice too.  Grrrrrrrrrr.  I am thinking to myself.  ‘OK, self you have a couple of options.  You could do what you always do and take over the situation, control the rest of the day and everything that goes on from here on out.  OR you could try to remain calm and let your husband, who is a grown ass man, handle the day, just relax and go along for the ride.’  (this is my inner-monologue font, incase you are wondering)  Against my better judgement and more along the lines of trying to rise above my control issues, I choose the latter.  

We stay at the museum and let the kids leave when they are ready. Translation: we stay too long until meltdowns occur.  We then take a walk along the waterfront (with no set plan, just a walk... with 3 boys... near water.... and old diesel trains. God help me! ) At 5pm everyone is hungry again so we go to the restaurant.  The Hub is feeling pretty proud of himself now as I was “wrong” in my assumption that no one would want to eat.  Can you see my eyes rolling?  

During dinner as it is getting later, I quietly remind my husband that we still have to buy, hard boil, color and (after the kids are in bed) hide eggs.  He looks at me, shocked and says, “You don’t have any eggs ready?”  This man has seen me and what I have done for the last 3 days and none of it involved hard-boiling a dozen eggs.    Calmly I said “No”  Then, again trying to remain calm and not taking over, I say, “Maybe we can just hide the plastic eggs that we have and not worry about dying real ones.”  His eyes did all the talking for him.  His look was a combination of astonishment, shock and disappointment.  So that was not happening.  

Leave dinner at about 6:30...mad dash to the Giant...take J home...Hub gets the kids washed, teeth brushed, in jammies and back down stairs while I hard boil eggs and prepare the coffee cups of egg dye... dye the eggs...put the boys to bed. Done by 8pm.  Whew!  Then the Hubs informs me that my Easter Bunny duties were a failure.  Meaning I did not get enough candy.  See, they each get a basket of candy and get to hunt for eggs (real dyed ones) at my parent’s house in addition to our house.  So the amount of candy is already too much and we have not even started.  Hubs says he is going BACK to the Giant to get more stuff.  At this point I am beat.  I decided to go to bed.  HE can do the baskets. HE can hide the eggs.  Since I was not in control of this day, I refuse to rush around anymore, like a lunatic, trying to get everything done that -had I been in control- would have gotten done 4 hours before.  When the Hub gets home, he looks at me in bed and says, “C’mon, we’ve got work to do!” Oh, he had no idea how close he came to being seriously hurt.   After all is said and done, it looked wonderful.  He did a great job and the kids were thrilled.  The rest of our Easter day goes off without a hitch. (Since we spent it at my parent’s house and they are in control of everything.)  

Then comes Monday.  The Hub has been working at Citizens Bank Park (Phillies Ball Park for you non-locals) for his company.  -----Side Note: He has been working ri-goddamn-diculos hours on this project for well over 4 months. Minimum of 10 hour days but mostly 12-14 hour days.  It has taken it’s toll on him.  His work is physically and mentally demanding. He is eating horribly, not sleeping enough, stressed, and OCDing more than usual. -------- We are huge Philadelphia sports fans.  So when one of the electrical contractors on his job, had offered him tickets to the opening day Phillies game, (Monday after Easter) we were excited.  

But nothing is simple when it comes to Hub’s work.  He informs me that we need to be at the Ballpark by 10am so that he can get his work pass.  (this means he is working during the game, uuhhggg)  Then we need to meet the electrical contractor at the their  tailgating spot in the parking lot so we can get the tickets for me and the boys.  The game starts at 1:30.  We get into the park about an hour and a half early.  The seats are awesome.  The Hub has to run around the ballpark and work but said that since we got there so early we would probably leave by the 5th inning.  Long story short (TOO LATE!) We don’t get out of there until about an hour after the game is over..... rush-hour, exiting the city with 40,000 other pissed off Phillies fans.  (we lost) Uhhgggg 

I am trying this whole time to be calm, go along for the ride, search for the positive.  But after the weekend of crazy, I am not holding together very well.  All this being said, our children are exhausted, hungry, and did I say exhausted?  The HOUR and half ride to get out of there was brutal.  That was met with a 6:30pm major hunger for boys who usually eat dinner at 5:30.  I demand we stop at the first place we see, which is a place called Nifty Fifties.  A diner like place with a 50’s style theme and 50’s style calories to match.  After the boys bellies are filled, we had another HOUR ride home.  Half way home, I started to crack up.... laughing uncontrollably.  The Hub looks at me and says “UH OH!” I am obviously not stable.  

When we get home, I look at the clock and realize we were out of the house and fairly active for 12 hours straight.  I then inform The Hub that from now on, he may come up with the family activity idea but we will carry out the details of said activity according to MY detailed plans, because none of us can handle another weekend like this one.  Control issues be damned, I am good at it.  He is not.  Oh and was I wrong for letting him take control? YES. Will I be wrong again?  NO!  

I Believe the Victims

While writing this blog entry - and I have been writing it for over a week now - I have been struggling.   I don’t like beating a dead horse and as readers of my blog, you know my struggle with the Catholic Church. I don’t like to make people uncomfortable. But, more than that, I hate seeing people in pain.  The Church sex abuse trial has started in Philadelphia and I have been in contact with survivors of sexual abuse by clergy.  Their stories are unbearable.  These survivors have lived through the most damaging and heart-wrenchingly, disturbing experiences imaginable.  All by priests whom they and their families loved and looked up to. These same priests continued to harm countless numbers of children. Even after they were caught by their superiors, who sent them for “treatment” and then assigned them to another unsuspecting parish.  The survivors are extremely strong individuals.  One man was abused when he was only 10 years old.  I think of the 10 year olds I know and shudder.  His abuse was not “alleged”  his abuse was documented and admitted to, by the priest/perpetrator. The Church decided to listen the victim only after the threat of going public.  That seems to be the only thing that makes the Church do anything; Money and Fear of Scandal.   A man who is now 35 struggles daily, sometimes hourly.  A wife of a survivor said that she and her husband go to support group meetings and sit in a roomful of survivors who will never tell anyone, except for in the safety of that group, about what happened to them.  They don’t want revenge or retribution.  They want to heal, move on and make sure no other child suffers the way they did. They all want one thing, to be believed.  

The trial of Monsignor Lynn and Fr. Brennan started on Monday, March 26th.  Days before this trial, the former “Father” Avery, pleaded guilty to raping a 10 year old in the sacristy and conspiring with Msgr. Lynn to hide his crimes.  This did not happen in the 60s, or the 70s, or the 80s, it happened in 1999.  It happened in a parish that Avery was moved to, by Lynn, after 17 years of previous accusations by victims.  Having read Grand Jury reports, this is the status quo when Msgr Lynn was approached by a scared and defeated victim.  There were so many that approached him NOT looking for money but only that the perpetrator would not hurt other children.  Some victims, after being so horribly violated by the Church, trying to maintain their faith, turned to Msgr Lynn to make it right.  Not with money or settlements or public humiliation, but just to make sure another innocent child was not victimized by those monsters.  He did nothing, or at the most, he did the very minimum.  He only did what was necessary to avoid scandal.   He is not alone in this.  There were many others above and below him that knew and did nothing, Cardinal Bevilaqua being one, Cardinal Rigalli being another. Both documented, some in their own writing, of the knowledge they had of the pedophile priests. The infamous list that was made up, by Msgr. Lynn of the 35 active priests who ADMITTED to sexually abusing children also noted, next to each name, whether the accuser could still sue!   Avoiding scandal is the common theme in the trial.  They did not care about the victims, they only cared about the scandal it would cause to the Church.  

I know it seems that I have a real bone to pick with the Church.  I know some readers will see these posts about their beloved Church and be angry, insist that I am stirring the pot and agitating the faithful.  Please know, that although I am angry at our Church and the way it has mishandled the perpetrators and victims, I am also hopeful that this will bring about major changes.  Changes that will allow many to come back into the fold of the Church community.  I am happy to see that 5 priests came forward to testify for the prosecution.  I am hopeful more good priests will be strong enough to stand up and say “No More!” I still have faith in that.  

The fact that many Church faithful turn a blind eye and don’t want to hear about the horrible things these monsters did to children and how these monsters were protected, is frustrating but understandable.  To believe these things about the people they hold in such high regard is, for some, quite impossible.  These victims are real, they are not only people that were abused in the distant past, each decade there are more victims. There are children being abused by priests right now.  Victims of childhood sexual abuse can take anywhere from 10 - 30 years to have the strength to admit they were abused.  The statistics go up for victims of clergy, teachers or pillars of the community.  So it may take them 20 - 40 years to report they were abused.  By this time the statue of limitations has run out and there is no chance for justice.  The other problem is, in that time, the amount of victims that have suffered is insurmountable.  The statistics also say that 88% of those abused will say nothing.... ever.  They remain silent and hidden under their shame.  Often they hide it with addictions.  Sometimes their brains protect them by developing mental disorders and disease.  Some take their own lives not knowing how to face it.  I guess my mission with these Church posts is to say that we are all damaged and hurt by these cases of the raping and sexual abuse of children.  Whether they be by priests or coaches or relatives.  We must believe the victims.  We must stand up for them, no matter how difficult or painful or uncomfortable.  The generation of keeping quite and pretending it does not happen has to give way to the generation of instant information and social networking.  This Church hierarchy can not remain so secretive and shrouded in mystery for much longer. 

The light of the truth has to shine bright on the hypocrisy.  The fact remains that the leaders of the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, for AT LEAST, the last 50 years have known of the predator priests in their midst.   They made the decision and concerted effort to protect their “brother priests” and ignore the cries of children.  Maybe it has to do with not having children of their own?  Maybe they hold children with the same disdain that they hold women?  Maybe they have no backbone to stand up for the innocent against the hierarchy? Any excuse is unacceptable.  Maybe we should hold these men accountable for their actions and start questioning EVERYTHING that they “teach” as moral?  How can a man who turned a blind eye to the depravity and pedophilia of his “brother priest”  tell me that I have sinned by missing Mass, let alone provide absolution to that sin?

Bait and Switch.... and Bait

“Wow, look at your ass!”

First thought was, what did I sit in?  Then I thought of the last time my hub said this.  Almost 9 years ago, when I was pregnant with our First Born.  After his comment, I looked in the mirror and said,  “WHOA!  What the hell?  Why didn’t you tell me it got this big?”  He responded, “I thought you knew.” 

So It was 7am on a Saturday and I was standing at the counter fixing my 3rd cup of coffee.  I turned to look him in the eye, and said “What about my ass?”  and.... now wait.... ladies, friends and fellow moms, please don’t think that my husband is the complete asshole he is about to sound like.  It is his own form of entertainment to have me completely lose my shit.  He says all these things with an adorable smile on his face and then waits for the storm.  I have learned to not cater to it and just role my eyes and laugh with him.  But this was not that kind of morning. 

“What about my ass?”   I said, in an - aren’t you starting a little friggin early today - tone.  He says, “NO, it looks hot. I mean it’s back.”  I respond, “What do you mean it’s back?” He said, “Your ass, pow, like the original bill of sale, when we first met.”  I had to put my eyes back in my head and restrain myself from getting the kitchen knife that was within my reach and carving out his tongue. My blood was seriously boiling and I said, “ORIGINAL BILL OF SALE?, Are you fucking kidding me?  You just said that?”  He was laughing now as he had achieved his mission and continued further with , “Yea, it was like bait, switch, bait.  We are back to bait, pretty nice.”  I was trying so hard to just laugh this off and see that he was trying to be funny with his backhanded complement. But I couldn’t. I mean he said ‘BILL OF SALE!... Bait switch bait!’  He thinks because he listens to Howard Stern, he is actually on the show! I had just had sex with him the night before too! I wanted to take it back!  

As I am typing this I have almost squashed this story about 5 times.  I so don’t want people thinking he is this big of a dick.  He really is a great guy.  You have to understand where we grew up.  The more you hammer someone, the more you verbally put them down and make fun of them, especially in a crowd,  it shows how much more you love them.  I am not saying it is healthy, but sometimes we revert back to it, because it is so much fun.  No, it really is fun and hysterical especially when we are with friends. Just not for me that morning.  

I had no response that would work without the kids catching wind of it.  I had already dropped the f-bomb and they were somewhat within earshot. I did not want to do further damage... to them.  He watched me turn about 3 different colors of red then I regained composure. Because I have been eating better and working out (not consistently, but getting there) I know that I am looking a little better. I am definitely feeling better about the way my clothes are fitting and not having to put on Spanx to walk out the door.  In what way could I use this to my advantage and make him eat his words?   

I smiled and sweetly said, “Thank you dear, I did not know you noticed.”  Then stared wistfully in the air (I actually forced myself to think of Johnny Depp, just to complete the effect)  He looked at me and slowly stopped laughing.  His eyes got wider as he watched me. Sheepishly he says, “Uh, so, uh, who are you trying to bait?”  

Ah, Touche! Mission Accomplished.

Proud, No..... Well rested, YES!

It was one of the best ideas I had ever had.  First Born was invited to his classroom friend’s birthday party at the local moonbounce/lazer tag/indoor playland germ factory.  Wait, don’t get me wrong, these places are genius and I have also used them for a couple of my sons’ birthday parties.  I mean what is better than having a party, where you don’t have to clean up before, during and after the party.  All you have to do is show up, bring the cake and watch them go nuts for 2 hours!  The kids love it and you are a guest at your own party.  I don’t knock it and I think these places are great. With that being said, when it is not YOUR kid’s birthday, they suck. I know, total double standard, but I gotta be honest.  

So First Born is invited to his friend’s party.  It is from 1pm to 3pm on a Saturday in January.  Normally I would go with him and stay to help out the parents in charge or just hang out with the other parents.  However, I did not know anyone at this party. I met the mom and dad at a back-to-school night but that was it.  I brought my son in and when I asked if I could stay and be of any help, they basically said, no and just to be back at 3pm for the pick-up.  Sounded good to me.  I grabbed my son, and had to hold his face in my hands so he would listen to me.

Me: “OK, here is the deal, is it ok if Mommy leaves and comes to get you when the party is over?”

First Born: (Looking at me like I have tusks) “Uh, yea!”

Me: “Pay attention, eyes here, you never leave this play area, you stay with the party, and if you have to go to the bathroom, you tell Mrs. New Friend and you go with a buddy. Look at my eyes, are you listening?”

First Born: “Yep, stay here, pee with a friend, tell Mrs. New Friend. Mooommmmm I am 8 years old!” 

Me: “OK I know, and you are a good boy. Now - eyes here! - Remember to say please and thank you and if there is an emergency,  what is my cell number?”

First Born: Rolling eyes “610-555-5555”

Me: “Very good, - hey, eyes HERE- are you sure you are ok with me leaving?” 

First Born: “MOMMMMM, all the kids are already playing, you can go!  Love you!” all this is said as he is running off.

OK, I double check with Mrs. New Friend and I head out to my minivan.  I start the car and start going over in my head all the things I can do with this new found 2 hours.  I have laundry that needs to be folded, our bathroom needs a good once over, the cat box needs to be cleaned, our yard needs to be cleaned of dog poop,  bed sheets need to be changed, etc. etc.  

As I am doing this I am yawning.  The Little One has been hijacking our bed at night on a regular basis and since it was extremely windy the night before, both Little One and First Born were scared and joined us in bed.  We live in a new construction type house and we also live on the area’s windiest hill, so when there is 50mph gusts, the whole house shakes.  I probably slept a total of 3 hours that night.

Then it hit me.  Hubs is not expecting me home.  I could just stay here.  I could get some sleep.  Oh, I was giddy!  I turned the car off, locked the doors and climbed into the back seat of the minivan.  It was very sunny so the car would remain warm.  The back of the van has tinted windows, so I was not easily seen.  I moved the various games, books, and jackets off the seat, used a sweatshirt as a pillow and covered myself with my coat.  I set the alarm on my cell phone for 15 minutes before I had to walk back in to get First Born.  I think I was asleep within 3 seconds.  I woke up on my own about one hour later, arm hanging off the seat, head lolling to the side with drool coming out of my mouth.  If someone looked into the car, they probably would have thought I was a dead body.  Luckily no one did, or if they did I did not know. I readjusted myself and fell back to sleep for the next 45 minutes, I even hit the snooze on the alarm.  

This may seem a bit ridiculous to most.  I mean I was 15 minutes away from my house that is fully equipped with my bed.  But this was the most peaceful uninterrupted sleep I have had in a long time.  There was no one calling me, no one climbing in next to me, no one yelling for me from another room, no one groping me, no phone calls to answer, no computer to look at, no door to answer; It was wonderful.   I did have some second thoughts about people seeing me and wondering if I lived in my car.  If you look in my car, it kind of looks as though someone could sustain themselves for at least a week, with the half eaten boxes of Animal Crackers, bags of Goldfish, and various half full bottles of water.  Not to mention the practical wardrobe of clothes.  But I must admit, at that moment I really did not care.  I was so excited that I was getting a nap that it just didn’t cross my mind for more than a minute.  

Immediately upon returning home I send my First Born into the shower to kill all the germs from the germ infestation.  My husband asked, with sympathy in his eyes, “So how bad was it?’  I hesitated.  I am not proud to say that it crossed my mind to lie and use this as some sort of leverage, since he got to stay home with our Little One while he napped and I had to go to the party.  I KNOW!  I am not proud.  BUT to my defense, I did tell him that I slept.  He looked at me and said “What?  You slept?  Where?”   I told him about my 2 hours in the car like I just cheated on him.  I did, I felt guilty.... for about 10 minutes.  He just looked at me and said “O.... Kay....” with a perplexed look on his face.  

See I know there are some out there who are right with me on this one.  I know for a fact that some of you have slept in your car, or in an office, or in a bathroom stall, and that you are all mothers.  We really don’t sleep like normal people.  As a mother, it starts off with late night feedings, infant rockings, diaper changes, that turn into late night, bad dream soothers, vomit fests, wet bed cleans, cough calmings, thunderstorm reassurances, fever checks, concussion interviews. Not to mention our own late night problems, like night sweats, getting up to pee because these damn kids ruined our bladder, sex since the kids need to be SOUND asleep before I can feel comfortable having sex and generally staying up late because it is the only time we have to ourselves.  For instance it is currently 11:47 pm. I should be sleeping, but I enjoy doing this, damn-it and I can’t concentrate on things I like doing when my children are awake. 

For my fellow mothers out there you know what I am talking about.  You understand what it means to get unexpected alone sleep.  Which is completely different than night time sleep.  We are still on the clock at night.  Mothering does not end when you close your eyes and turn off the light.  But when you are curled up in the back seat of your car and your husband is taking care of one and the other is being supervised only 100 feet away, well, you can sleep like a baby.