Kilkennian in America

We have this book sitting on our coffee table. It's a hardback book showcasing all the great moments in Kilkenny Hurling from the 2009 season. Hard to believe Manus doesn't have it enshrined and behind a thick wall of bulletproof glass, but he needs it to be accessible so he can easily peruse it once, twice,...hourly.

The guy on the cover is none other than one Martin Comerford. Otherwise know as Gorta. I have spoken about him previously here.


So on St. Patty's Day Eve, Manus gets a call from his friend, Martin over at John Martins asking if Manus knows of any place that will be broadcasting the Hurling Club Final on TV (yes! of course, the Hurling Club Final... don't tell me you forgot it was on and didn't set your TiVo!?) as he has a Kilkenny couple over on their holidays interested in watching it. Well, Manus says, he's going to watch it on the computer at home and, being the friendly and accommodating Irishman that he is, he suggests the aforementioned couple come over to our house and watch the match here.

So they do. And that couple is none other than.... (insert drumroll here)

C'mon Rocket Scientists, get out your calculators and figure out this one...

That's right, you guessed it...


Martin Comerford and his new bride, Paula.

They were over on their honeymoon, staying in a hotel just blocks from our house, got sent to John Martins to find out about the match and ended up here -

On our couch!

Watching our TV!

Sitting mere inches from the book whose cover bears his likeness!

Our brush with greatness and where was I? AT WORK! Is there no justice in the world?!

Manus, being the uber-cool dude that he is, would never have asked for an autograph or photo op, so I am left to my uber-uncoolness to imagine what it must have looked like...

Probably something like this:

The great MC on our couch!!

And it was probably at that very moment when Katie, having been kept out of school for the day so she too could rub shoulders with celebrity, was in the next room cutting her own hair with her pair of not-so-safety scissors. Yep, big clump from the left side.

What in the world could have distracted her parent?

Videographic Awesomeness

Remember Mousetrap?

Sick Mick

It only took one day in daycare for Mick to get sick. That has to be a record. His official school Poop Record for last Monday listed hourly diaper changes starting at 3:30 in the afternoon but since you could usually build a bomb shelter with his Lincoln logs, I assumed they were mistaken. But you know what happens when you assume... your son gets crazy diarrhea.

There is no need to elaborate on that situation, for obvious reasons, but let's just say I won't be eating French's fancy yellow mustard or large-curd cottage cheese again any time soon.

Tuesday night marked baby's first barf session. I'm commemorating the occasion with a plaque.

As the illness persisted, I took Mick to the doctor Thursday night. I was assured it was viral, self-limiting and most likely a daycare bug. Yes, it happened that fast.

And it, quite possibly, is the Rotavirus that (most kids) get vaccinated against but our kid didn't because they don't give it in Ireland and by the time I took him for his shots here he was too old to start that one and I am a terrible mother and I didn't register to vote when I turned 18 and I haven't flossed my teeth in over a week.

Now though, one week later, Mickey Boy appears to be getting better. His situation is improving, so to speak (I will be avoiding split pea soup for a while). I hope to be sending him back to school tomorrow to see what he can pick up this week. Of course, now that some of the other family members have begun cooking up some hot and spicy trouser chili of their own, I may be missing a few more days of work this week. Alas.

Here are some pictures from our visit to the doctor's office. We just LOVE our pediatrician.

FLiP Fantastic

A little video starring my three favorite things...
Katie, Michael and the Gators.


Aw, poor Manus. Didn't make the top three? Maybe someday. You're easily in my top 20.

Only a doting mother would find feeding a baby interesting enough to record. Only a delusional one would think anyone else would be interested in watching it.



Gotta love this FLiP!

First Day of School

Well, it had to be done. Our poor Mickey Boy started daycare. And yes, that IS what I'm calling him these days. If it makes you cringe, well... Address all your hate mail to wtf@you-might-as-well-have-named-him-Sue.com.

Manus will be sending around a petition for a nickname injunction.

We enrolled him at Kendall Presbyterian Church's Early Start Program. I didn't know really anything about it but my mom suggested it and we just had the dumb luck of one space opening up in the 6 month old class. My mom is saving us by taking and picking Mick up on the days that I go to work. Ideally we would like to find a place near us on the beach, but as we don't want Mickey in daycare any more than he has to be, it's probably good that this place is close to work but far from home because I know I'd be tempted to drop him off for a few hours on my days off. I do that with Katie already, but that is a matter of sanity.

I am really impressed with the center as they have weekly lesson plans (I know, I know, for a 6 month old?!) well, whatever... Having them say that on Monday they will look at themselves in a mirror for an hour before moving on to "Find your Toes" is better than admitting that Tuesdays are filled with Separation Anxiety Hour and "Afternoons spent Crying".

Each day Michael will come home with a paper that notes when and what he ate, when and how long he napped, diaper changes and the day's disposition. (I'm waiting for "spoiled-ass brat" to get ticked off)

The best part is they take pictures of each child and email them to the parents during the day. As if to say, "Look how happy your child is here at Early Start!" These weren't the clothes I'd sent him to school in so I have to imagine Mickey had been happy up his back and out his pant legs at some point prior to photo time. Where's the picture of that?!!

Please don't let the irony escape you of my very Catholic husband marrying a Methodist and sending one child to school at the Presbyterian church and the other to learn with the Baptists. We are all going to hell.


"Mickey Boy, Mickey Boy, where's your little sticky toy?"