Photo Dump Part I

I've got so many photos that I need to get off of this computer now that it's working again, so I'll be photo dumping all this week before I get back to semi-irregular blogging.  This is mostly for the family, so if it's not your thing, I'll see you back here next week. 

But if you're sticking around, let's catch you up, shall we?

Yes, I am so far behind that Photo Dump Part I starts with the babies' first Easter at home:

and then at Grandmom's house with aunts, uncles, cousins, and of course, Grandmom:

 

Monday night on the town

Last week, I received an invitation to attend a National Geographic screening of an episode about POWs,  including a Q&A with Senator John McCain and Ernie Brace.   Given that my parents had to go back home, we didn't have a night time babysitter, so the Husband -- who would've loved it -- would be unable to be my plus one.

But Roar has inherited his father's interest in history.  When I broached the subject of going to the screening, I was just hoping that he wouldn't say "no" to a night hanging out with me.  But he actually said, "That sounds cool."  I can't tell you how ridiculously pleased I was to be the recipient of such teenage enthusiasm.  

So last night, we made the trek to DC for a Monday night on the town, both of us looking dashing in somewhat ill-fitting suits (his was a little large, mine was small (and more than just a little -- trying mine on, I started singing "Fat girl in a little coat...")). 

The ride in was fun.

 

So was our pre-event dinner at the illustrious Potbelly where we snarfed down sandwiches and milkshakes.

When we arrived, the schedule was off.  We speculated that it was because of the alerts in DC and the explosions in Boston.  But they had set up food and open bars, and for the next hour, we mingled.  It was interesting watching Roar next to me, looking like a grown-up, and attempting to participate in grown-up conversations.  My little guy.  And when, for no good reason, he dropped into a conversation that I was a lawyer, it occurred to me that he might be proud of what I do.

So I had to embarrass him by taking a picture with my hot pink phone.  I even made him carry it for a bit.  It was the only logical thing to do.

When the Q&A started, we were both riveted.  What Senator McCain and Mr. Brace went through in Vietnam is unimaginable.  Regardless of your politics, I hope you appreciate that they were -- and are -- brave, resilient, patriotic heroes, and appear to be genuinely nice men.  In the end, I think Roar was enriched in many ways by being there.

Special thanks to the Husband who made our outing possible.  He single-handedly (and without complaint, I might add) fed and bathed 3 children, took them on a trip to CVS to pick up the babies' prescriptions (they both have sinus infections!), read stories, put babies to bed, played with Zachary and put him to bed, and then cleaned up.  This morning, Zachary was telling me that his daddy had found one of his balls outside, and had cleaned it up for him.  I told him that I'm pretty sure his daddy loves him.  He said, "Yep, my daddy loves me a lot."  Good daddy.

Thank you God, Universe, Whatever.  Thank you for all of this.

On religion and baseball

I believe in a higher power, that life, that existence, had to start from somewhere.  That's just plain logical to me.  I also believe that death is not the end, though admittedly, it is a "belief" because it's something I need to believe in.  But in all the explanations I've heard about why things happen, how things began, why we need to behave a certain way, I've never heard anything that sounds right on.  Everything -- including (and perhaps especially), the Catholic religion in which I was raised and in which, essentially, we're raising our children because the Husband identifies himself as Catholic -- sounds wacky to me.  But who am I to say that millions of people are wrong?  All I can say is that I don't know. 

Still, I'm fascinated by people who are steadfast in their assertion that their "religion" is the one true correct one.  The answer I've received as to what makes it so they "know" and I don't?  "Faith."  They believe because they believe.  Yes, it's circular, but there are books and signs and miracles and everyday occurrences and once-in-a-lifetime occurrences that reinforce their beliefs.   And so they go on believing.  To be honest, at one time, I was all judgey about this "faith"; but now?  I'm envious.  But I am who I am, and I'm not going to know for sure until I know for sure, and I guess I'm okay with that.
 
Many, many years ago, a friend introduced me to the idea of reincarnation through the book, "Many Lives, Many Masters" by Dr. Brian Weiss.  The basic gist is that the purpose of your life is to learn a lesson.  When your life is over, you review your life with higher beings, you take from it, you learn from it, and ultimately, you are reborn for another life lesson.  Past-life experiences follow you so that each time you are born, you are born more highly evolved.  This explains child prodigies, strange accounts of young children speaking languages other than their native tongue, how many people are drawn to certain hobbies or are "gifted" in certain areas, and how sometimes "old soul" is just the best way to describe someone.  It also explains why you've met someone and you've felt a spark of recognition or that you've known them forever -- the theory goes that these are souls that you've known before.  I love that thought.  And it sounds no more wacky to me than anything else I've heard.  It's equally plausible and implausible.

Let me get to the point of this post:  Zachary and his baseball.  We are not a baseball family -- we're a football family.  We don't watch baseball, we don't talk about it, and other than t-ball, we don't play it, and as far as I know, he doesn't come into contact with anyone who plays it or talks about it.  But lately, Zachary has been having batting practice with Parta.  He doesn't need the T for t-ball, and he hits pitches with surprising accuracy.  Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying his skill is prodigy material, but it's still surprising to see that little guy find his target about 80% of the time (more often if he's not worried about whether I'm watching him).  And he's even better at throwing.  And he's not yet three. 

A couple days ago, out of nowhere, he told the Husband:  "When I was little, I used to play baseball for New York."  He told Parti this again this morning.  And so I asked him what position he played.  Without skipping a beat, he said, "Outfield." 

Now, I suppose he could've heard the terms "outfield" and "pop-fly" (I heard him use that before), and he's certainly heard of the state of New York.  And maybe his skill just reflects an above-average hand-eye coordination. 

But maybe, just maybe, my boy was a New York Yankee in a past life.  If so, I'd like to think it was a good life with talent and wealth and fulfillment, and that he learned a lesson that has made him the sweet, funny, beautiful soul that he is today.  I don't know.  But it's certainly something to believe in.

Bliss

Yesterday, we fed the babies dinner while sitting out on the deck. We watched as Zachary played baseball with Parta. In between pitches, Zachary called out, "Mama, watch me!" every time.

Funny how my view of "bliss" has changed with age.

I don't know when this happened

...but apparently now I cannot speak without the use of visual aids, and my Mac -- the only one my memory card is formatted for -- has been out of commission.  So therefore, I cannot tell you about our recent family ventures outside of our house.  And not just to the Costco, mind you, but to fun and fabulous places like the National Zoo and Spring City, Pennsylvania.  I also can't tell you about the surprise arrival of Parti and Parta.

*sigh*

The plan is to get the Mac fixed this weekend, and then I'll be able to speak again.  I know, I know, you've missed me.  Just a little longer, sweeties.

Have a great weekend!