Francesca's fourth birthday

She woke up early to help Lola make the infamous chocolate cake.

Started the day out early with best buds Anna, Gracie and Julia.


Things got crazy fast.






David takes it all in stoically.




It seems like she's been four for a long time, such a mature little girl.
Happy birthday sweet Frankie!

What we've been up to

Frolicking with cousins

Helping David learn to love the pink swing

Deep conversations between sisters

Making cookies as ballerinas (and Snow White)

Picking roses.

We've also begun tapping Five in a Row, ironically since everyone else's school year is about to end. But Frankie seems game, so we've begun charting the geography of the stories we read. We've mapped the U.S., Japan, Italy and the Philippines so far. And we've sat on cushions for tea and cookies like Mako's family in A Pair of Red Clogs. Thanks for the loaner, Hil!

You knew it was coming...

...random pictures of flowers in the garden, that is. Like father like daughter, right Mom?

I have to share my satisfaction over these gorgeous blooms, sorry.

Easter has come to mean hydrangeas from Lola! This one's blue hue is other-worldly.

(sisterly snuggle thrown in there)

Have I ever mentioned how grateful we are for our screened-in back porch? Words are not enough. Teresa was eaten alive yesterday (this early!) when the pool was on the lawn so we got creative with its placement today. Thank you Pop pop and Grandmommy for a huge gift that keeps on giving.

Sitting up

With friends.

Happy Easter!

Pieta

"The transport of Christ to the sepulcher" Antonio Ciseri (1883)

William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905) - "Pieta" (1876)

Beneath the cross the Mother kept
Bleak vigil under darkened skies.
Upon the cross her Son hung nailed,
Stabbed through by crowds of hostile eyes.

"And your own soul a sword shall pierce,"
The old man in the Temple said,
The Spirit's sword, the word of God--
God's word be done, was all she said.

Upon the cross the Savior died;
Beneath, the Mother bowed her head;
Above, the storm broke harsh and wild-
God's word be done, was all she said.

A soldier came and thrust him through;
The blood and water proved him dead,
They laid his body in her arms-
God's word be done, was all she said.

At vigil's end, the Crucified
Arose from death her glorious Lord.
O Father, Son, and Spirit, God,
We praise and magnify your Word.
Genevieve Glen, OSB

What possesses a three year old to....?

When Dave and I walked into the girls' room this morning I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Frankie was in Teresa's crib, scissors in hand, with most of Teresa's locks in piles surrounding them. Dave and I looked at each other. He pulled me by the hand to our room where we started snickering quietly, careful not to give Frankie any indication that we were amused (albeit horrified) by the scene.

Dave had words with her. She's on dessert probation for a week. And scissors? They don't exist in our house anymore.

I collected Teresa's lovely baby curls and put them in a pile. As I carried her to the bath she simply said, "My hair hurts." And indeed, it had been murdered.