Edel is Like Fairy Dust and Other Revelations From the Weekend

After a long day of traveling home on Sunday from an incredible weekend away, nothing feels quite as good as being welcomed by six sets of squishy arms wrapped around my neck.  Except for maybe a nap.  I think a nap would feel about as good as squishy arms, but I can't say for certain since naps are still in the bucket list category of my life.

Things you don't see at the historic Francis Marion hotel. Playmobil guy chillin' on the Charmin.  I think one of my offspring was sent to time out in the bathroom while I was gone??

The return home - that's one of the unexpected gifts of Edel.  It restores your heart and mind in such a way that you're able to come home and see the precious in your precious ones a little more clearly. The sound of Mom!, Mom!, Mom!, Mom!, Mom! isn't so annoying after all. And, even the poopy diapers and football cleats don't smell quite as putrid as you remember them to be.

Edel is fairy dust sprinkled on your life. I love fairy dust.

My experience of last year's gathering is still pretty blurry.  I went with our son, Joseph, who was FOUR WEEKS new at the time, because, why??? Like I said, blurry. So, this year, I feel like I was actually able to relax and enjoy the journey a little bit.

The only real hiccup of the trip was, after a three hour layover in Atlanta, my dear friend, Kathryn, and I were finally able to board our flight to Charleston, but ended up being stuck there for another hour waiting for the "people in charge" to empty a bazillion pounds of fuel from the plane.

In the mean time, after my attempt at yelling for suggesting free beer for the hot and weary travelers failed, I dug into my bag for some elevation essential oil, hoping it would lift my spirits (hee hee) a bit (and also those around me).  Unfortunately the two big tatted dudes that I was squished in between weren't feeling the effects so much, so I resorted to tweeting about my break up with Delta.

Just outside of 82 Queen. Kathryn and I both woke up at 4:00 a.m. to make our flights, and it only took us 9.5 hours to get to the soup of my dreams.

From the little of it I saw, Charleston is a beautifully charming city, with the best she crab soup on the planet. Well, I had never actually eaten she crab soup until Friday's lunch at 82 Queen, but if there's a tastier she crab soup out there, I really don't want to know about it.  Because that's a one way ticket to gluttony.

Put the spoon down, Susan. Put. it. down.

My photo evidence of the weekend makes me sad, but that's what I get for refusing to drag the Nikon suitcase around Charleston. Edel had to be captured with the iPhonybaloney. There's some much better footage here, if you are so inclined.

I will sum up the rest of the trip in a list of personal favorites:

Favorite Talk: Rachel Balducci
Rachel's blog, Testosterhome, was the first blog I ever read, and still read today.  Like me, she is raising a tribe of boys, so I was ecstatic when I heard she was going to be one of the speakers at the gathering.  To those sitting behind me, I'm sure I looked like a bobblehead, nodding in agreement at every single hilarious story she shared about the craziness of raising boys. She is a kindred spirit, indeed.

Favorite Quote (from Kelly's talk):
“You have been chosen twice; first to be, then to know Jesus. What are you doing with that fantastic mission? You have been created by God and know Jesus for one reason; to witness to faith and hope and love before an unbelieving world. I don’t care if the world knows you, or no one knows you. Even if you influence only one person in your whole life, God does not look at numbers or quantities. He looks at souls and individuals. If you were able, by your example or by one of your acts to bring one person to heaven, it would mean more to Him than all the accomplishments on earth.” -Mother Angelica

That's Mary, singing "All About That Base" like a queen. Love her!

Favorite Inspiration: Meeting Mary Lenaburg.  I had read Mary's story about a year ago while up during the late nights of nursing Joseph.  Words cannot sum up the heart of this woman. Meeting her was an experience of Christ.  And, she let me drive her Mercedes rental to get Kathryn and myself to 82 Queen for our soup. That was the first sign of her awesomeness.

Post Mass joy with my newbie friends.  Kathryn was such a trooper the whole weekend.  She was asked approximately 472 times "Are you the one who broke your knee last week?"  And, graciously she answered them. Every time, so incredibly gracious.  I need to get me some of that southern sweetness.

Favorite Soul Food (besides the shrimp and grits): Eucharistic Adoration and Holy Mass at St. John the Baptist Cathedral.

Favorite Sip-Sip: Tarragon and lemon infused cocktail (made with gin, of course) at Magnolias.

Favorite "I Really Miss My Boys" Moment: Wishing I had some Napoleon Dynamite pants to stuff some of these Benny wafers into, because when I saw them I knew that they would make the perfect communion wafers for my little guys who love to pretend saying Mass at home.

Favorite Moment of Humility: Being asked by an attendee if I would refill her drink.  I think she may have thought I was part of the wait staff, which means my cocktail dress wasn't as dressy as I thought it was.  Sweet tea, no lemon, coming right up!

Favorite My-Face-Hurts-From-Laughing-So-Much Moment: Watching all of the ladies let their hair down for Karaoke and dancing after dinner Saturday night!  This pic is for all the teenagers out there who think their mom's idea of having fun is folding laundry while watching Netflix.

Favorite Takeaway:  Although Edel is not a bloggers hangout, there are a lot of Catholic bloggers who attended.  Since I'm a microscopic blogger no one recognized me, and I was thankful for that, because it gave me a chance to approach other women, strike up conversation, ask a lot of questions and listen, listen, listen.

I love hearing people's stories.  I love being inspired by the lives of women who feel as though they are leading ordinary lives, yet are so very far from it.  I love being reminded of God's goodness through the voices of those around me, because I can so very easily forget just how good He really is.

And, I love knowing that this longing that I have for community was not rejected but deeply affirmed by three hundred other incredible souls who are struggling and striving every single day to live their vocation faithfully, to be salt and light from behind a hot stove or beside a sick baby.

That kind of encouragement is not meant to be kept to ourselves.  We need to take Edel to others, YOU can be Edel to others, even if you've never been there! Reach out to another mom, go out of your way to say hello, go somewhere without your make-up on and smile like you know your a beautiful woman of God, invite another mom over for coffee even if your house is trashed, be a listener, laugh at yourself, help others laugh at themselves, too.

If you're thinking about going to Edel 17 (yes, they're taking a year off), think no longer.  Go.  Just go.  You will love it, I promise.

Mystery, Modesty, and Rule #7: Never Settle For Anything Less Than a Gilbert

When Jonathan Crombie, who played the role of the beloved Gilbert Blythe in Anne of Green Gables, passed away last spring, my Facebook feed quickly filled up with the most heartfelt and sentimental acknowledgements from friends and family who, like me, grew up knowing Jonathan as their Gil.

He was the one who cherished Anne like no other and, in his ornery yet tender sort of way, set the trajectory of countless young girls' hearts toward a height that only the most worthy men could hope to reach.

I wonder if Montgomery knew that the character she fashioned on paper would one day come to life in such a profound way, thanks to Crombie.  I knew, after reading about Anne and Gil, that I wanted their story to be my story, that I wanted to find my very own Gilbert.  I imagined he would be good in nature yet ornery, sensitive yet strong, funny, persistent, intelligent, and of course handsome. 

Among the most attractive of Gilbert's charming qualities, for me, was the purity of his interest in Anne as a person.

In Gilbert's eyes, Anne was nothing but beautiful. Although she was not the portrait of beauty compared to the likes of her peers, Dianna and Josie, struggling madly to accept her skinny, freckled, red-haired self, daydreaming of puff sleeves and jet-black hair, it was those very unique physical attributes of Anne that drew Gil in.  He could not help but to follow his heart by seeking hers.

So what was it, exactly, that enabled Gilbert to see and appreciate all of Anne? 

The answer is simple: Mystery.

I've got six sons, whom I'm raising every day to be, in particular ways, just like Gilbert.  Within their own distinct personalities and gifts, I hope they will embrace the value of being chivalrous, outgoing, determined, courageous, respectful, and always, always gentlemen.

I cannot help but want for them to find their own Anne, to be able to discover and know the one that God has created for them to love, if they are called to the sacrament of marriage.  

But, I have to be honest. My heart struggles hard to find confidence in this hope, because there is that one BIG thing that seems to be missing in so many girls today.  And that thing is....

Mystery.

There are three things about mystery that every girl should know.  
1.  It's a feminine gift that everyone girl is born with. 
2.  It's a very powerful gift.  
3.  The power in the mystery is modesty. Without modesty, there is no mystery.

Oh, and one more thing.  Guys love mystery.

They may not think that they do, YOU may not think that they do, but trust me, they do.

How do I know this?  Well, I've got one fine husband and six little men who remind me every day how true it is! Being the only female in the house, I can see in our boys' bright eyes, as they look at me, how different I am from them, and how those differences naturally cause them to approach to me with a sort of gentleness and tenderness that is proper to their dignity and mine.

I'll never forget when several years ago my husband thought it fascinating to explain to me all of the intricacies of the social happenings at the high school where he taught.

In one of his classes was a truly beautiful girl, inside and out.  I knew her personally and her family as well.  She was an absoulte gem. She was talented, smart, funny, pious, intelligent and modest.  She may not have garnered all of that fun, flirtatious attention from the guys in her class, but what she did garner was respect, and there wasn't one male who didn't appreciate being recognized by her, even in the smallest way.  

"It's all about the chase, honey. Put a challenge in front of a guy, in this case, capturing the heart of a beautiful woman who is shrouded in mystery, and he cannot help but want to know her."  And, not just know her, but serve her, protect her, adore her, even love her! 

What girl doesn't want that? 

I know these are the ideals that lie deep in the hearts of young women, because I see and hear their cries over the absence of them via social media, television and even Pinterest, as they share their disappointments, heartaches and frustrations over the pain that comes when hopes and expectations are met with the emptiness of lust instead of real love.

Cry no longer, girls.

This is an easy fix, really.  It's not complicated.  If you want a guy to recognize and love you, all of you, especially who you are on the inside, you've got to show him the mystery. 

As much as I love summer, it's quickly becoming my least favorite season. I feel like I cannot go anywhere with our sons without them encountering girls who forgot to get dressed for the day. Seriously, there's more fabric in my baby's bib than there are in some the "outfits" I see girls wear.

The most bothersome of these situations actually occurs at church (and some are worse than others). Sad, isn't it?  I'd sort of like for my boys to keep their eyes on Jesus, but flesh is a mighty powerful distraction to say the least.  And the parents, especially the dads, who sit beside their daughters, arms affectionately tucked around the shoulders of their girls, who's backsides are barely covered, looking proud as punch, are my distraction.   

I CANNOT understand WHY they not only BUY such skimpy threads for their daughters, but also allow them let them wear them anywhere and everywhere, especially to church.  

But, parents, I don't suppose you would dare play the authority card by mentioning something about modesty over dinner to your scantily clad daughter.  I mean with the whole "war on women" campaign, one would hate to risk provoking any feelings of self-doubt or insecurity in the young ladies of this country, who may already be exhausted from pounding their fists on the backs of whomever is making life so desperately unfair for them.

Speaking of unfair, I think it's time for me to just come right out and say that the way you let your daughters dress is not only unfair to them, because you are not protecting their dignity, but it's also extremely unfair to my sons. But, I'm just going to go all in, push my chips to the center, and bet that you already know that.  You know that boys struggle to look at your daughters in a healthy, pure way when they dress inappropriately, but care to do little about it.  

Because it's the boys' fault, right? Like, get it under control, boys. 

I'm asking for my sons to exercise custody of the eyes.  What are YOU asking of your daughters?

Our culture is suffering from a horrible disconnect between choices and actions and the effects those actions have upon others.  And, if you reject those effects, by pointing out the wrong in them, you are labeled judgmental, intolerant, or worse.

I've heard the rant so many times, But you don't know my daughter, so don't judge her by the way she dresses! She is sweet, kind, generous, and loving!  Obviously you can't see that because you are so shallow. No, I'm sorry, I can't see that because her cheeks are hanging out of her shorts. 

It's a simple fact: the interior qualities of others, no matter how beautiful they may be, become difficult to appreciate with six inches of cleavage popping out because Victoria isn't keeping anything a secret.

Immodest dress doesn't exactly scream, "I am a woman of high standards, who is talented, virtuous and worth your undying love, devotion and admiration." Really, it only says one word: easy.

And, truth be told, I don't want any relationship or anyone to be easy for my sons.  I, along with a lot of other boy moms out there, are doing our very best to raise gentlemen.  Men who place a high value upon the honor and respect that is due to a lady. Men who understand what it means to be providers and protectors, men who strive to not only embrace but also to attain the particular set of standards and virtues necessary to fulfill their role as strong, trustworthy men in society. These are the noble standards of sacrifice, chivalry, strength and loyalty.

There's just one hindrance to our sons' formation, and that is we cannot teach our boys to simply embrace these ideals as truth. That's not enough. At some point they have to put the principles into practice.  Unfortunately, for most young men, it is difficult to exercise gentlemanly qualities when there are simply no ladies who might actually challenge them to practice what they preach.

I'm not making excuses for my sons - I'm making a CASE for them.  Man, in his nature, is created to be visually attracted to women.  That is a good thing.  I repeat, that is a good thing. But, here's the real shocker: It's actually possible for that healthy attraction to happen if a girl is modestly dressed.  Just ask Gil. Or your grandpa.

Do you think my grandfathers weren't attracted to my grandmothers?  Hello?? Do you know what carefully curled hair and some red lipstick can do to a man? Mystery is charming, it's exciting, it's inviting, it says, "Hey you, if you want to get to know me, if you want to love me, if you want me to love you in return, then you're gonna to have to try really hard because I'm worth it."

Maybe I'm a little off my rocker in assuming that you would like for your daughters to some day marry a gentleman.  Someone who's strength of character, chivalrous attributes and unwavering devotion to your daughter are not only to be admired, but emulated. Someone who understands and values his duty as a man to provide for and protect all women, especially his bride. 

Wouldn't you just love for the right man to come along and love and admire everything about your daughter - her talents, intelligence, sensitivity, joy, charm and beauty just the way you do, if not more?

How little credit young ladies give to the very persons they are hoping will love them.  Girls, if you only understood that when you set the bar high, very high, the boys will rise up and strive to meet your hopes an expectations, (remember the power??) because, while they are wired to be physically attracted to you, they are also wired to - GET THIS - make you happy.  

I'm not making this stuff up.  They really do want to make you happy.

And, if they aren't willing to rise up, if they aren't seeking the mystery, if they don't indeed have the wisdom to show you the respect and consideration that you deserve, then all the better for you! Because, that guy is not the guy who is worthy of your time and attention.  And, in the process of discovering that, you haven't lost a thing, not your pride, your dignity, nor your reputation.

See how that works?

Maybe you are at a point in your life where revealing some skin isn't just about trying to be fashion forward, or showing off your teenage toned bod.  Maybe it's about a undeniable need for attention, and any kind of attention will do. Maybe deep down you are starving to be loved, to be noticed, to be cherished, and you just don't know any other way to have those needs met.

Girl, I hear you. Attention can feel so good (temporarily), and for a while it might be enough to fill your aching heart. But, one day, you may discover that that kind of attention is empty. I hope that, if this is your story, that you will give your heart permission to long for something more.

With six sons, it's possible that all of them might one day be searching for their Anne.  Maybe their Anne is you.  I want them to find you, wherever you are.  Trust me, you will want them to find you too, because they will be your Gil, and rule #7 is, never settle for anything less than a Gilbert.  

Now, go and be modestly mysterious.  I'll be waiting to meet you!

Adoration Under the Stars ~ Bowing Here I Find My Rest

Do you ever find that when you're very, very tired, that kind of tired that cuts deep into your bones, that it becomes incredibly tempting to imagine an easier life?  To daydream of vacations and other grand comforts, to look at the lives of others through those rose-colored glasses seeing an illusion of life that is carefree and easy?

I cannot deny that this has been my struggle for the past several months.  We're comfort seekers by nature, you and I, and I confess to being tops at diverting myself from discomforts and inconveniences with a hefty mouthful of gin and swearing. (Well, now you know.)

But, sometimes, even the comforts of this world are not enough to remedy the weariness that life can impart.

Not a day goes by that I don't think to myself, if I could just catch a little break.....and soon my mind gets lost chasing all the ways I might obtain that very thing that I think will renew my sanity and spirits. (Cyber mind readers, if you guessed beaches, you're right on!)`

Yesterday morning I woke up to those same heavy feelings, the weight of fatigue pinning my flesh to the mattress with all it's might.  Despite my ferocious appetite for five more minutes, I managed to pull my feet to the floor, make the coffee, and gather up some fortitude before the boys came charging in for breakfast.

I want to say that the fatigue is not the result of feeling burdened by my children or responsibilities that come with motherhood. Quite the contrary.  Our children are my joy.  But, the unique situation of our current state of affairs has required more of me physically and emotionally than ever before, and, to put things in running terms, I've hit the wall.

Quickly scanning the messages in my inbox while the hungry troops whittled the steaming stack of pancakes down to crumbs, I saw this reminder: "Adoration Under the Stars" Wednesday July 1, 2015, 8:45 p.m. 

I set my coffee down beside my laptop, with multiple screens open to "Top Family Vacation Spots," and walked out of the kitchen for a moment.

Exhale.  Yes.  This, I need.  I need very much. Lord, please make it possible for us to go tonight.

And, He did!

{Photo Credit}

Last night our little country parish hosted the most beautiful Eucharistic Adoration service I had ever been to.  Lining the narrow, rural road leading to the church were rows and endless rows of cars.  I could not believe how many people had chosen to be in this place, on this night to praise and worship our Lord.  Seeing the crowd of adorers gathered together in the cemetery behind the church brought me to tears.  

Lord, I come, I confess

Bowing here I find my rest

Without You I fall apart

You're the One that guides my heart

{Photo Credit}

Father Aaron graciously welcomed everyone, inviting us to pray, to praise, to listen, to adore, and to confess, as there were NINE priests waiting to for us to lay our burdens down and to receive the grace and freedom of absolution.  Oh, how dearly I love our Catholic faith, and our beloved priests!

Lord I need you, oh, I need You

Every hour hour I need You

My one defense, my righteousness

Oh God, how I need you

On that perfectly still evening, with the moon shining bright, I curled up beside the boys on the grass and for the first time in months I felt at peace.  I just needed to be reminded, as I looked upon the crucified Christ, his arms outstretched for me, that only in Him can I truly find the comfort my soul has been longing for for so long.

Whenever we get tired — in our work, in our studies, in our apostolic endeavours — when our horizon is darkened by lowering clouds, then let us turn our eyes to Jesus, to Jesus who is so good, and who also gets tired; to Jesus who is hungry and suffers thirst. Lord, how well you make yourself understood! How lovable you are! You show us that you are just like us, in everything but sin, so that we can feel utterly sure that, together with you, we can conquer all our evil inclinations, all our faults. For neither weariness nor hunger matter, nor thirst, nor tears... since Christ also grew weary, knew hunger, was thirsty, and wept. What is important is that we struggle to fulfill the will of our heavenly Father, battling away good-heartedly, for Our Lord is always at our side (cf. Jn 4:34). 
- St. Josemaria Escriva, Friends of God, 201

Carb Lovers Rejoice! Wheat Harvest is Now In Session!

Fifteen years ago my handsome hubby and I were stretched out on the beach, drinks in hand, toes in the sand, ocean views stretched out before us, the warm sun and beachy breeze keeping all the romantic vibes alive...

Just kidding.  We were in a wheat field.

The only waves around us were amber waves of grain. Please, try to control your jealousy.

Sometimes honeymoons come right after the wedding, and sometimes they come after wheat harvest. Crazy as it sounds, that's our story!  Two days after walking down the isle, I found myself sitting in a big blue Ford tractor tugging a grain cart around the dusty field where my brand new shiny happy husband was cutting wheat.  

I may have traded my white dress in for work boots and blue jeans (however, my French manicured nails still looked totally fabulous….and that’s the last time they were polished), but I was happy! When farming is your livelihood, harvest doesn't wait for honeymoons, honeymoons wait for harvest.

{That's the toughest guy I know, right up there. 

Screw Lyme disease. We're gonna cut some wheat!}

Our farming ventures have led us down many different path since then, and it’s been several years since we’ve actually had a wheat crop to cut.  Now that our older boys have outgrown the toy tractors and are ready for bigger and better things, life on the farm is really getting fun. I was super excited this summer when Steve told me we (we!) had bought a combine and would be harvesting wheat this year, for the first time in ages.

{Thank goodness for big brothers who can help little brothers up the ladder.}

{I think Chuckeroo may have been a liiiitle bit nervous sitting up that high.}

The boys spent a week prior to harvest helping Steve make sure the combine was in tip-top shape. Although it was new to us, the old girl (as Steve affectionately calls it...um...her) had seen some miles and had plenty of wear and tear.  You know, buying things brand new can be more convenient, more comfortable, but in our case, bargain hunting has it's benefits.  Fixer-uppers give the boys plenty of opportunities to work beside their father, to learn how to solve problems, and to be attentive to details. 

I love that they are learning some serious mechanic skills from their father.  I'm tellin' ya, they are gonna make some sweet little lady with a long "honey-do" list very happy some day!

Henry and George were at Totus Tuus all week, so they didn't have a chance to ride the combine with daddy, but the little ones were more than happy to tag along with me to deliver meals to the field.

Andrew kindly sat in the car with Joseph so I could take a spin with dad and Charlie around the field. Joseph was soooo charged when he saw the combine rolling along.  100% testosterone that boy!!

While most of this part of the state is finishing up with harvest, much of the Midwest will still be out in the field working long hours in the days to come. So, carb lovers, if you happen to be cruising along the rural roadways of America this weekend, enjoying the fruits of a farmer’s labor, be sure to wave your bagel and holler thank you. They love what they do and do it well so that you can have what you love!

Have a wonderful weekend, friends!

Joseph William Karol Turns One! Brotherly Love and Birthday Photos Abound

"How can there be to many children? 

That's like saying there are too many flowers." 

- Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Last Friday our youngest son, Joseph, turned one.  My heart simply could not accept how quickly this year has passed.  Just yesterday I was begging my ten day overdue belly to get busy! Despite the intensity of life that comes with raising six young boys, like clockwork, when that first birthday arrives so does the crazy intense longing for another baby. (Go ahead, call me coo-coo.) It's just automatic.  I can't help it!

Steve and I have always been open to life, and the Lord knows that if it were up to us, we would have ten boys by now.  But, He is the Creator and Crafter of our family, and so six it is! (Until we adopt those twin girls I've been trying to convince my husband we have plenty of room for!)

Anyway, for days leading up to Joseph's birthday, there was a great deal of excitement in our house. Everyone wanted to know what kind of cake I was going to make, if we were going to have a party, and they all took turns exclaiming to Joey, "You're going to be one year old on Friday!"

When the big day finally arrived, the great enthusiasm and love that the boys showered over Joseph was so touching, I cannot describe it. The older boys were all awake bright and early to help Steve work to get the combine ready for wheat harvest.  While they waited for me to prepare their sack lunches, they sat quietly in the living room listening for Joey's little voice to signal that he was awake.

Goooooood Morning!! Come and get me!!!

Gosh, guys. It's just my first birthday, no biggie, really.

Everyone dashed in to hug and kiss him and to wish him happy birthday.  It was a sweet sort of chaos.  I wish I could bottle up all of their giggling and hugging and endearing words.  Those are sounds I don't ever want to forget.

Of course our boys have their fair share of fighting and selfishness, but that's all on the surface of learning and growing up in a family of boys.  Beneath it all is an beautifully intense love for one another.  I see this love expressed in so many wonderful ways between each of them every day. The love was especially visible on Joseph's birthday.

Despite the obligations of the day, when possible, all of our attention was on Joseph.  I, especially, found myself just watching him, noticing every little distinction that makes him so unique, so precious - his wispy curls, his long lashes, his big blue eyes, his many expressions, the way he says "HI!" so emphatically when I walk in the room.

The boys will never know how emotional their birthdays are for me.  Behind the smiles and celebration my heart is completely engulfed in waves of love, joy, gratitude, wonder, and admiration, and the exhaustion I feel intensifies all of those emotions immensely. 

I suppose those emotions come from a combination of wanting time to slow down and also knowing that each child we've been blessed with is such a gift, such a mercy. Children save us from ourselves.  I've written before about how babies make us better.  Because, they really do.  

They uproot us from all our selfishness and attachment to things that don't matter and reward our self-gift with an all consuming love, adoration, and cuteness that makes us forget who we used to be. They make us face our weaknesses and our faults and leave us longing to be better, to be more, to be different, and that often very uncomfortable change requires a total reliance upon God's mercy and grace.

Early that day, I had hoped to dress Joseph up in his Wranglers and boots and take him to a special spot just outside of town that I thought would be the perfect place for his one year photo session, but it was so hot outside, I knew he would be miserable. Another day, another time.

After supper, the boys offered to take care of the dishes so that Steve and I could have some one-on-one time with Joseph outside.  He is taking his first steps, so it was the perfect time to snap a few (hundred) photos!  

Are you ready dad? I'm gonna show you my slider, then my curve, then my fastball!

 Um, guys, have you seen my baseball anywhere? Anyone, anyone??

 George noticed how much Joey wanted to take a turn on the slide....

So, he happily made his birthday wish come true. 

When it came time for the cake, Joseph was not sure what to think. The boys, however, were about to burst with excitement, because they could not believe that I was going to let Joseph actually eat his very own piece. Mom! It has sugar in it! Sugar is bad for Joey! Are you sure he should eat it??

First taste....

Mmmmmm!!!

After the cake was devoured, Charlie volunteered to "bathe" Joseph in the baby pool.  Hold still, Jophis, I'm going to wash the frosting out of your hair with this ice cold bucket of water.

Really, how can there ever be too many of these precious ones???