The Amazing Pudding

I had a rather irritating and insulting experience this afternoon and wonder how many other dads have had similar experiences.

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[Let’s call the author of this post Stuff. She’s a long-time friend and contributor to my previous blog. This is a re-post from that blog. I’m re-posting it here because thought it would be a good post for Mother’s Day. Since it’s original publication, Stuff’s family has grown to include a total of four children, two boys and two girls.]

I am not one of those baby-crazy women whose biological clock ticks so loudly that her husband smacks her in the morning when the alarm goes off. In fact, I never really pictured myself as a mother at all when I was growing up – I shelved dolls in place of snuggly, cuddly stuffed animals and dreamed of being a veterinarian. In high school, my career choice shifted, but not my interest in children – I rarely babysat and wasn’t sure I’d ever really marry. After a relationship with a really bad-for-me boyfriend, I felt sure I’d either be a single missionary or a cloistered nun. Sometimes I thought I’d be a concert pianist. The only thing I was sure about was that I wanted to serve God. Of course, if, by some act of God, I ever did get married, I knew I would want to bear my husband’s children.

Enter Squat. The man who turned my world upside-down, taught me what love was and that yes, men were really capable of it, and eventually took me as his bride. We did NOT conceive on our honeymoon, contrary to popular belief. It was the week after we got home. 😉

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Who knew carrots had tryptophan?

Who knew carrots had tryptophan?

Source: <a href=

Source: Omni Brain

Sometimes you want to go where nobody knows your name.

Wait – wha…?

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Is this book tasty?

Is this book tasty?

[This is a slightly edited re-post from my previous blog. It seemed appropriate in light of a post I recently wrote here.]

While visiting with my in-laws outside of Erie a couple years ago I went to their parish for the Epiphany. I noticed something there that I’ve noticed at other parishes, and it drives me nuts: slovenly attire worn by those attending mass, in particular those serving at the altar.

How can people serve at the altar in the Divine Presence wearing blue jeans and sneakers? How can parents allow their children to dress so poorly for such a high office? More importantly, I wonder how priests can allow children to serve like that? I’ve even seen it at weddings!

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I’m as wowed by Susan Boyle as anyone, and I wish her continued success in the talent competition, but I’ve been bothered by thoughts similar to those that prompted Dennis Palumbo to ask, “What if Susan Boyle Couldn’t Sing?
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Links? What links?

I can't keep up with blogroll maintenance any more so I've given up. Instead, below you'll find shared links from Google Reader and Delicious. If you read enough of them you should be able to figure out most of the parenting sites I frequent.

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Delicious!

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