Betty’s questions about St. Patrick’s Day prompted some Internet searches:

Who is St. Patrick, why is everything green and are leprechauns scary because everyone seems to want to catch on? Are leprechauns bad guys?

Seems like ‘Ol St. Patrick himself preferred three leaf clovers, not four, to explain the holy trinity and, as for green, well, blue was his color until somewhat recently. Now, this holiday’s mission is to celebrate Ireland, Irish folks and have a creative national festival, as declared in their country’s mission statement. So much for the blue saint.
I’m a quarter Irish. Maybe that’s why I love wool sweaters and rainy days. You can take my potato portions, though. Yuck. This year marked the very first in my life I didn’t have the traditional New England Boiled Dinner. No corned beef, no cabbage. Only take out pizza and espresso. Luke worked all night at Henry Island’s power outage. The crew and their tools had to wait for a Henry resident to volunteer to come and pick them up by boat to fix the power issue. Whoever wants it back on quick enough wins that chore I suppose. He came home after two am so it’s just as well I hadn’t baked all day. Another time Irish soda bread, corned beef hash, Guinness.
My three leprechauns posed for a photo. Lucy’s shirt was mine as a child, as were Betty’s pants. All three gals wore those tiny shamrock socks on this holiday. Love, love hand-em-downs. So cute how their heads are exactly the same shape, with the tiny pointy chin of Daddy.
Never tell Lucy to smile. She’s really into doing the opposite, if you ask:
Betty is studying Insects and Arachnids at school and wanted to make some bugs for our plants. She’s home sick with round seven hundred of the illness that swarms above our home. Really though, the hardest part of having three kids is that each illness swarms around each of us until it travels elsewhere. Since Betty’s egg allergy diagnosis, she’s more than eager to craft up an egg carton, or at times sneaking into the recycling barrel and stashing scores of various recyclable materials under the sheets of her bed, building fairy towns. Yeah.
I started a vicious round of steroids to battle Mono’s disabling side effects and couldn’t get Rolling Stone’s Mother’s Little Helper out of my head. Not since before pregnancy have I felt hyper. Wow. How I missed this emotion. I could have cleaned all the bathrooms, windows, weeded outside and put laundry away. But, I knew it was just the tiny white pills talking so I forced myself into rest with an art project. Who knew a few painted bugs would take nearly five hours?
I punched the holes for legs, cut the pipe cleaners but, these tiny scientists did the rest.
Love them. Truly.
Spider, 2 Ladybugs & a Butterfly


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