Oh. My. Word.

Raise your weak little sweaty hand if you’ve had the stomach flu recently! It took our house down like the Ushers and we’re just up today, yesterday. I said to Shaun that I hadn’t barfed like that since the 80s! Hoooowee!

That said, Ruby caught it on my heels and she wins the coveted Quote of the Flu award. She hurled over the side of the bed (we were sleeping together so we didn’t get the boys sick) and as she flopped back into the sack, a la 3AM, she oozed, “Mama, I feel craaazy.”

Mat Kearney, Nothing Left To Lose

I am married to a father now, Ruby’s father. But, Father’s Day for me is still mostly about my father, and now Shaun’s father too. It’s a day to celebrate all their quirks and gifts, to think back on memories with them and dream up new together-times for tomorrow. My father made that pretty easy this year, because he has been so excited about Ruby.

For Father’s Day he bought her a pair of gardening gloves and was going to have her help him pull up pansies after dinner. She ended up turning into a pumpkin before that, but the plan was ever-so-sweet.

Shaun’s Dad was the life of the party at her birthday picnic, even with everything he has on his plate. He made Ruby feel special every chance he got.

I dated a guy in my early 20s that I thought for a time I would marry. I loved his parents, his mother and his father. When he and I broke up I remember thinking “I am going to have the crappiest in-laws someday, because what’s the chance another guy will come along with such fantastic and loving parents?”

Voila.

Happy Father’s Day, Grandpa Lynn and Grandpops.

And here she is all graduating from high school n’ stuff!

When her mom gave me the title of Godmother to this great little lady, I never thought so far into our future together. I just enjoyed her moment by moment, and I still do.

Other memorable tidbits?

1. My husband, who had never met said Goddaughter’s (mostly absent) father, said “Her dad looked like the leader of a cult.” It was either the Bono-like glasses indoors, the slicked back hair, or just the general creepiness, but I sort of had to agree with him.

2. My foundation garment (“Look, Mommy, that lady’s ass is tight.”) actually cut off the circulation to my entire left leg.

and 3. Here’s what Ruby thought about the whole thing:

You can read her mind can’t you?

“It’s way after bedtime, and I graduated in my pants about an hour ago.”

and the next it crosses your mind that “Sweet Jesus, that ground is coming up pretty faaaaaaaaaasspthth.”

No, I am not turning this into a photo blog, but the moment Shaun took these pictures over the weekend was one of many that made me laugh and not think about the weight of recent days.

His mom was diagnosed with Stage IV colorectal cancer as I was crossing back over the pond to come home. She just turned 60.*

We whizzed up to Martinsburg to be with his parents and sister as soon as we heard the news. It helped to see her, although I am not sure what I expected. I guess when one hears “The C Word” (well, one of the most oft-used “C word”s), one imagines a ghostly pale person wandering around in a robe, unable to keep food down or a smile on. Hard to imagine anything bothering the woman we encountered upon arrival in West Virginia — giggling over a glass of white burgundy, wrestling around with our daughter and cooking delicious meals.

We are reeling. I worry for Shaun and all the rest of his clan. My clan.

Also, at some point I have to address the fact that I drank my way from Dublin to Galway, and though I don’t regret it (damnit), I guess I need to think about it. Don’t I? Not to mention then toasting my mother-in-law’s illness all weekend (after many hours in the wine cellar I think that’s what we all were doing). I’ve popped my head out of my own ass today, but how long before I go poking around in there again?

Sigh. Back to the couch. “Blah blah blah, me me me, blah blah.” I wish I could just turn me off sometimes! I do have pics of the Ireland trip and will post them when I can. Er, when I figure out how to do that.

In the meantime, we’ll all just land on our fuzzy bunny butts, stand up, dust off, and march on.

*I looked at that again and thought “What, if she were 80 would it make more sense? Be fair?” No. It just sucks — not more, not less. In my family, we tend to just get old and die. In Shaun’s family, folks drop and fade and fight fight fight in a much more dramatic fashion. We’re just not ready to let this great lady go. We’ll have none of that today.

My light is under a bushel, as they say. Meaning, I don’t scream and yell about Easter and how incredibly excited I get inside about it. The Easter Bunny bringing baskets is groovy, and Cadbury Cream Eggs certainly get a vote, but I really do get into the meaning of the day. It’s the day that God keeps a promise to me, each year. Simple as that. You won’t hear me talking about it much, but if you asked me, that’s what I would say.

And, whether or not God created them, lets me keep them, looks after them, helps me be good to them, or simply listens to my gratitude for them in my prayerful times — I can’t help but believe that something all-powerful and magnificent had everything to do with these three:

Ruby…

and Shaun…

and Moose.

I know I’ll probably hear about it via a strict finger-wagging from St. Peter, but when I am at a party or gathering and there are atheists about, I just listen to them and smile. I like a good scientific argument as much as the next person, and I understand how organized religion can severely screw people up. At the same time, I just get something from it. From Easter. Something quiet and consuming and mine.

“That’s okay, Jesus,” I think to myself, “you can just stay here with me.”

My sister Carrie was born. Happy Birthday, Lady! Lookin’ good…