Maura’s List of Ridiculously Great Irish Things

(google image via literatehousewife.com)

(For best results, please read with an Irish brogue.)

Sure, if I didn’t have big plans for this week! I thought I’d be tellin’ ye all kinds of tall tales and reciting dirty limericks and playin’ Irish drinking songs for ye on th’ days leadin’ up to this, St. Patrick’s Day. But alas, it was not meant to be. I’m still tryin’ to handle my tasks at the office now that I’m one editor short.

While I’m doin’ me work, I’ll be leavin’ ye with some ridiculous Irish greatness to consider.

~*~

Confession Jokes

Who doesn’t love a quick bit about sin and atonement? There are lots of jokes about confession, but this one’s my favorite:

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been six months since my last confession. On top of that, I’ve been with a loose woman.”

The priest sighs. “Is that you, Tommy O’Shaughnessy?”

“Yes, Father, ’tis I.”

“And who might be the woman you were with?”

“I shan’t be tellin’ you, Father. It would ruin her reputation.”

“Well, Tommy, I’m bound to find out sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now. Was it Brenda O’Malley?”

“I cannot say, Father.”

“Was it Patricia Fitzgerald?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ll not name her.”

“Was it Fiona Mallory, then?”

“Please, Father, I cannot tell you.”

The priest sighs in frustration. “You’re a steadfast lad, Tommy O’Shaughnessy, and I admire that. But, you’ve sinned, and you must atone. Be off with you now…”

Tommy walks back to his pew. His friend Sean slides over and whispers, “What’d you get?”

Tommy pats his friend on the back. “Three more good leads, lad. Let’s go.”

The Wild Rover by The Pogues

No one captures an Irish drinking song better than Shane MacGowan and his band’s punk take on this traditional Irish tune.

Requiscat by Oscar Wilde

Wilde is widely considered to be one of the most brilliant writers of his time. What I love most about this piece is how he uses understatement and control to so elegantly convey one of life’s most devastating emotions.

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

James Joyce’s Dubliners

When you have an Irish mother like I do, Irish fiction has a way of peppering the bookshelves. When I was 9, I picked up Finnegan’s Wake, realized it was too far over my head, and never revisited Joyce again.

Until.

Last year I read Dubliners, and spent every last word cursing myself for having missed out on Joyce for so long.

If you’re so inspired, read this Dubliners excerpt, titled “The Sisters.”

Irish Cream Coffee

Forget Guinness. Here’s how to celebrate the luck o’ the Irish.

1 12-oz. wine glass, preheated 10 oz. Bewley’s Gold Roast Instant Coffee
1-1/2 jigger Bailey’s Original Irish Cream
1/4 c. heavy cream, whipped until stiff peaks form ground cinnamon (optional)

Pour hot coffee into the heated glass. Add the Bailey’s and stir well to blend. Top with a mound of whipped cream. Sprinkle with cinnamon if desired.
Yield: 1 serving

Irish Soda Bread

Of course you’ll need to nibble on something while you enjoy your favorite Irish beverage. Here’s a recipe from Gourmet Magazine, March 2002 to get you started.

(google image via justcastironcookware.com)

Irish Setters

When I was but a wee lass, we had a dog who looked just like this:

(google image via dogbreedinfo.com)

His name was Rory, and from what I remember, he slobbered a lot and wasn’t very smart, but I loved him.

Irish Blessings

I like to laugh at the raunchy ones. (Who doesn’t?) But what I like even more is a kind phrase said with sincerity, like this one.

May you live a long life
Full of gladness and health,
With a pocket of gold
As the least of your wealth.
May the dreams you hold dearest,
Be those which come true,
The kindness you spread,
Keep returning to you.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day to ye and yours!

~*~ Follow me on Twitter: @36×37
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Mama Can’t Say No Day, the Reprise

H turned six last week, and O turns four tomorrow. To celebrate, we’re hosting a combined birthday party this weekend for all the little boys in both their classes. But tomorrow, just as we did last week for H, we’ll celebrate a different way: Mama Can’t Say No Day, a new (and rare) tradition in our house.

“Mama Can’t Say No Day?” you say. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

But it’s not. Actually, it’s pretty great. This re-post below tells you about our first Mama Can’t Say No Day, and proves that empowering your kids can go a long, long way.

~*~

Mama Just Can’t Say No – May 3, 2010

“Maura, I have your son here in my office.”

I have to be honest—I’ve received more phone calls like this lately than I care to admit. “Is everything ok?” I ask. “Is he hurt?”

“No, no. He’s just refusing to take a nap. It’s disrupting the other kids. We’ve tried reasoning with him and ignoring him and putting him in time out. Nothing’s working. What do you suggest?”

What I think but don’t say: “Have you tried bribing him? Or taking away his toys? Or smoothing his hair and rocking him to sleep?” But I’m too ashamed of my “works like a charm” Bad Mom tactics. Instead, I say, “I’m so sorry! Daycare has been such a huge transition for him. We’ll talk to him again tonight. Meanwhile I’d welcome your advice…”

“Do you practice discipline in your home?”

I think about O, my sweet, snuggly 3-yr-old mama’s boy and am instantly defensive. In a family of huggers, he hugs the longest and the hardest. He holds my hand as he falls asleep and smiles when I wake him in the morning. O is just a lovable, jolly kid who happened to inherit his mother’s exaggerated stubborn streak. In our house, discipline usually turns into one massive standoff, with me saying “No!” and him saying “Yes!” until we no longer remember what we’re doing.

“Barriers are important. Kids need structure. They want it, and they thrive on it. Don’t be afraid to be the boss.”

I thank her and we say goodbye. After a minute or so of burying my face in my hands, I take a deep breath and get back to work.

~*~

The truth is, I say “no” constantly. No jumping on the bed. Eat your grapes, or no dessert. Keep your feet off your brother. Stop moving around on your chair. No! Non! Nicht! Não! Enough!

I’m not a nag by nature, and I’m not a bossy person, so this constant setting and enforcing of rules goes against my general grain. I do it because I have to. Because I know I need to. Because, like every other mom, I’ve read all the experts, and I’ll do anything it takes to keep my kids from dragging my name through their therapy sessions 25 years from now.

Even so, EVERYONE needs a day off once in a while. That’s precisely why today was so outstanding. For the first time, I decided to just scrap all the parenting rules and follow nothing but maternal instinct.

~*~

I hear two sets of little boy feet coming down the stairs. Two smiley kiddos appear with stick-uppy hair.

“Hi Mama!” H says gleefully.

“Hiya, pumpkin. What day is it, buddy?”

“The Day Mama Can’t Say No!”

“That’s right! Hey O, what does that mean?”

“We’re the bosses!”

“The what?”

“THE BOSSES!”

“And what do the bosses want for breakfast?”

“Chocolate chip muffins!”

Well. Chocolate chip muffins it is.

~*~

Here’s what else the bosses did today:

• Chose their clothes and got dressed by themselves (something they do every day—just not so eagerly)
• Brushed their teeth without argument (even if they did select the Thomas the Tank Engine toothpaste for toddlers, rather than that nasty “Sparkleberry!” flavored crap)
• Made tantrum-free movie selections at Blockbuster
• Talked me into racing the Target shopping cart down an empty aisle or two
• Ordered bacon—five pieces each—and ate quietly all through lunch
• Laughed their little blond heads off through two Phineas and Ferb episodes, then announced they were ready for a nap
• Had a massive Star Wars lightsaber battle with Uncle SC without antagonizing one another
• Enjoyed a very bubbly bubble bath
• Went to sleep at 9:00, exhausted and happy

~*~

It’s clear to me. When I loosen the reins on these guys, when I guide them rather than lord over them, when I tell them I trust them—and they actually believe me—then eight times out of 10 they’ll make good choices. They’ll stop railing against me in their little boy way. I guess in my heart I’ve always known this about them.

I make mistakes with my boys every day, and I count those mistakes as I fall asleep each night. But in the end, I can’t help but think: If they know I love them fiercely and obstinately and blindly and devotedly and proudly and without a hint of desire to change them, then they’ll believe in themselves, and they’ll want to do what’s right.

I wonder what the experts would say about that.

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37

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#27 is coming… learn to fly, trapeze style

Here’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow night.

Well, not this exactly, but close enough.

At promptly 7PM, I’ll meet up with a group of people I don’t know, and we’ll all take a 90 minute trapeze lesson with the Cincinnati Circus Company and the Flying Trapeze School. It’s the 27th item on my list of 36×37 assignments.

I’ll be the one in yoga pants, falling repeatedly and laughing my fool head off. Wish me luck; I’m going to need it.

(Happy Valentine’s Day weekend to you and yours. I’ll give you the play-by-play next week, complete with action videos!)

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37
~*~ Visit the 36×37 facebook page

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Brain. Stormin’.

About 2 ½ hours into our honeymoon, GB and I got lost in County Clare, Ireland, smack in the middle of The Burren. (If you’ve ever pictured “the middle of nowhere,” then you know exactly where we were.) I’m still not sure how it happened, because we had all the proper tools for navigation: he had 90 minutes of left-side driving under his belt, and my 25-year-old hands held the map.

Rock Formation in The Burren

“We should go left when we get to Drumduff,” I said. “So I guess let’s just keep driving?”

GB nodded and picked up his speed. We let five minutes pass in concentrated silence.

“You said ‘Drumduff’?” he asked eventually.

“Right. Left at Drumduff, drive for a while, right at Martry.”

We drove a bit longer, sneaking glances at the map until at last we came to a fork in the road. The road sign didn’t say “Drumduff” because the road sign didn’t exist.

“Now what?” I asked. It wasn’t a statement I made out of exasperation, because more than anything, I was curious. Really, what would come next? I remember tapping my index finger against my lips while I watched my new husband closely. “This is it,” I thought to myself. “This is where I find out if he’ll stop for directions.”

“I don’t get it,” he said, taking the map. “Why isn’t this marked?”

“We’re going to die here,” I joked. “We’ve just gotten started, and this is the end.”

“Well, let’s drive for a while,” he said. “Maybe we’ll find someone we can ask.”

“Ah ha.” I thought, and patted myself on the back.

Eventually, we found a local farmer who helped send us on our way, and we were no worse for the wear.

~*~

There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.

I have to be careful and tee this up the right way, because I’m about to hit you up for advice. Here’s the thing: It’s time to buckle down on my final list of 36×37 assignments, and I’m four ideas short.

Here’s what I have so far.

(They’re on my set-in-stone list. Nothing can alter my plan.)

1)      Learn to fly

2)      Take trapeze lessons

3)      Play a round of golf

4)      Take a class in basic Italian

5)      Attend the Chicago St. Patrick’s Day parade

6)      Drive a bulldozer

Good list, right? A compelling list, even.

But watch what happens next:

7)      ?

8)      ?

9)      ?

10)   ?

It figures. Now that it’s crunch time, I’m completely out of ideas.

That’s why I’m here, at your doorstep, looking so forlorn. I need suggestions, and I’m hoping you’ll have them in spades.

So tell me: In all of your years, what were your biggest or best or most surprising adventures? They don’t have to be anything earth-shattering, because honestly, I don’t think I can swing three months of backpacking through the Alps so late in the game. But if there’s something memorable you’ve tried or experienced, and you think my family might enjoy it, too, I’d be grateful to hear what it is.

~*~

Oh, right. Back to The Burren.

So we drove for a while until we found that local farmer. His ruddy face looked skeptical as we approached, but he smiled at us anyway.

“Hello,” GB said with his sweet Kentucky accent. “We’re trying to find Martry?”

“Oooowh shourrre,” the farmer replied in his thick Gaelic brogue. “TekahliftatedanixtcurveandablahblahblahGuinesslepruchan.”

I’ll never know how we did it, but we made it out of there anyway.

~*~ Follow me on Twitter: @36×37

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The Fall of the House of Gingerbread

If history has taught us anything, it’s that great houses tend to fall: The House of Tudor, the Ming Dynasty, the Roman Empire, France in the Time of Napoleon—all of which rose and collapsed in a blaze of glory.

So, too, will gingerbread houses rise and fall when you totally wing their construction. I speak these words of truth.

And I can only blame myself.

For the record, I am not a fan of written instructions. I’ll follow a recipe only if it’s short, and I’ll put together a bookcase solely by instinct. I jump feet first into the fray without considering the proper order or outcome of things. Sometimes, I even get away with it and nod smugly at myself, knowing I wasted no time.

I thought this was one of those times, because this is how our (very first ever) gingerbread house looked.

Hold your uproarious applause and accolades, though, because 38 minutes later, it looked like this:

~*~

The Gingerbread

It all began with a lovely (dairy-free/egg-free) molasses dough (courtesy of food.com):

Ingredients:

1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup molasses
1 1/2 teaspoons ginger
1 teaspoon allspice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon cloves
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 cup margarine
1 egg, beaten (or 1 ½ tsp Ener-G egg replacer + 2 Tbs water)
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

Directions:

1. In a medium saucepan, heat sugar, molasses, ginger, allspice, cinnamon, and cloves to boiling, stirring occasionally.
2. Remove from heat; stir in soda (it will foam up).
3. Stir in margarine till melted.
4. With a fork, stir in egg (or egg replacer), then flour.
5. On a floured surface, knead dough till mixed. Divide dough in half, wrap half with plastic wrap; set aside.
6. Roll half the dough, with a rolling pin, slightly thinner than 1/4 inch.
7. Cut your house shapes.
8. Bake at 325F on a cookie sheet for 12 minutes; cool on a wire rack.

I carved the dough into six 3×5 rectangles: 4 for the walls, 2 for the roof. That was my first mistake. The roof slats needed to be taller than the rest of the pieces—construction basics I did not know.

~*~

The Lessons Learned

There were lots of other mistakes I made along the way. I could have saved the construction team—me, GB, the boys, my brother SC and his sweetheart, Kelli—a lot of trouble if I’d just done my research.

I don’t want you to make the same mistakes and then watch your hard work topple into disrepair. So please, heed this advice I’m paraphrasing from How to Assemble a Christmas Gingerbread House on eHow.com:

1) Prep like a pro: Make sure all your tools are at your fingertips.

2) Pick your platter: It should be flat and sturdy, like foil-covered cardboard or a pretty dish. Lay a piece of string across the surface.

3) Lay your base: Place a dab of icing in the center of your base, then place a small box on top of the dab. Make sure the peaked walls run parallel to the string.

4) Frame up: Dab icing along the sides of the box, then pipe the corners. Press your walls firmly against the box.

5) Raise the roof: Smooth icing along the top edges of the walls, then use those edges to help prop the roof pieces against one another to create two slopes. Pipe icing along the peak.

6) Tie it: Pull the ends of the string up and over the roof, then tie them at the peak to secure the roof and wall frames while they dry.

7) Be patient: Wait an hour or so, then remove the string and decorate.

The Hope for a New Tomorrow

Although it was a blow to watch our empire tumble, all was not lost. Amid the smoldering embers of catastrophe, the gingerbread men and women persevered.

It is for them—and only them—that I shall forge on in my efforts and try again next year.

Gingerbread Kelli and SC

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37
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Sneak Peek Into the Final 17 Assignments

Image courtesy of teedious.com

After yesterday’s post, it occurred to me that I still need to solidify 36×37 assignment #20…as well as 21-36. In fact, I haven’t really given the final 17 assignments much thought at all.  

So. I started to brainstorm. Narrow down. Plot the course. Eventually, I came up with a fun list of the assignments I want to complete as we close out the year. Here’s a hint of what’s to come.

(If you need a refresher on completed 36×37 assignments, here it is.)

November: Stand on the State Line

Admit it—you’ve always wanted to do this! One foot in North Carolina, one foot in South. Right? No? (Furtive, self-conscious glance) Oh. Neither have I.

December: Cook Christmas Dinner – By Myself!

(Shhh. Don’t tell anyone in my family. They will not look forward to this.)

January: Visit the World’s Largest Rubber Band Ball

I’ve mentioned this before. I think our family trip to Disney is the perfect time to drive an extra eight hours round-trip to see something only the tiniest fraction of the world will get to experience in person: One giant, colorful mass of rubber greatness.

February: Teach a College Course

You must know, I have a completely irrational fear of public speaking. So when a good friend and college professor offered me the chance to mold the minds of her impressionable psychology students, I first thought, “This is a terrible idea!” And then, “When can I come?”

March: Chicago St. Patrick’s Day Parade

Well, wouldn’t you want to go? And since you’re probably not going, wouldn’t you want to read about it? Obviously, the answer is yes. Who can say no to a green river, dogs dressed as leprechauns, men in kilts, and Guinness in unlimited supply?   

April: Super Secret Surprise

I have big plans in the works for #36. Big, big plans! And although I’m no good with surprises, I’m keeping this one under wraps because it’s just that good.

So there you have it.

Also… (And This is Important!)

Now that I’ve outlined 6 of the 17 remaining assignments, this feels like an excellent time to thank you for stopping by here every now and then. I love the company. And I wouldn’t change a thing about these past seven months of blogging—not just because it gives me an excuse to spend a few hours a day messin’ around with the English language—but even more so because it has introduced me to a fantastic community of funny, talented writers and kind, interesting, insightful readers. I’m grateful to have the chance to read, interact with and write for such a smart, fun group of people. Thank you so much.

So I owe all of you something. I’m not sure what. Chocolates? A round of martinis? My enthusiastic applause? I’m not sure. But whatever it is, you undoubtedly deserve it.  

Happy Friday! Enjoy your weekend!

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37
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Tag! You’re it.

(google images from http://www.psdgraphics.com)

When I was growing up, the kids in my neighborhood spent many a summer night playing a game called Sardines in a Can. It was the exact opposite of playing Tag, and it was better than any other game we knew.

We’d start by assigning one kid to be the IT. He’d hide while the rest of us counted to 10. Then we’d scatter like billiards to find the IT before any of our other friends could.

It would all break down like this:

You’d find the IT, you’d stay with the IT, and together you’d wait and wait—until a pair of giggling players would swish through the grass to stand, puzzled, 10 ft from your hiding spot. You and the IT would shush each other excitedly and just loudly enough for the others to hear. Because, secretly, you both wanted to scoot over and let the other kids join you.

There’d be five of you suddenly. Seven. Then eight. Until just one poor kid would be left, shouting, “Guys! Where are you?” So you’d take pity on her and cough loudly until she’d stumble right into your spot. Everyone would laugh like crazy for a while then agree to play again.

That was a great game. As soon as my kids are old enough, I’m going to teach them how to play.

~*~

Now there’s a new game of Tag. I’ve seen it on a few of my favorite sites this week, and now the delightful, witty and always clever Wendy over at Herding Cats in Hammond River has tapped me on the shoulder to say it’s my turn. I’ll gladly play, because I’m a sucker for answering fun questions, and I feel like I owe her since I liked reading her answers so much. When I’m finished, I’ll tag eight other bloggers to play along, then I’ll direct you back to Wendy’s site. She really is an extremely fun (and extremely well-written) read, and you’d be doing yourself a favor to check her out.

1. If you could have any superpower, which one would you have and why?

I am fully prepared for this question. My boys discuss this topic daily. They’ve trained me to throw out quick, basic answers like superflight! superstrength! Tony-Stark-like superintelligence! And while those all sound supergreat!, none of them could possibly be my real answer.

Because honestly? I’d like the power of persuasion. I could get used to conversations that consistently go my way. Like this: “I think a totally unrealistic $50,000 raise is in order.” “The money is yours.” Or: “Officer, you’re mistaken. I’m not driving 85 mph in a construction zone.” “My apologies, ma’am. I must have misread my radar gun.” Or: “I look just like Gizelle. Just. Like. Gizelle.” “Of course. Your first-class tickets to Milan await you.”

While we’re doling out the superpowers, I’ll put my name down for Wonder Woman’s invisible jet. (And yes, SC, I’ve heard the joke about Wonder Woman and the Invisible Man.)

2. Who is your style icon?

Sex in the City’s Charlotte. The older I get, the more pearls-and-heels I become.

3. What is your favorite quote?

I have two three.

A writer must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid. ~ My boy William Faulkner

Every last line of Bull Durham.

No, wait! Every last line of Office Space.

4. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received?

The looks on my kids’ faces when I come home from work are better than any words in the English language. (Although “conundrum” and “apocryphal” are pretty good.)

5. What playlist/cd is in your CD player/iPod right now?

Check out my Spin It page—it has YouTube videos for the best songs I’ve heard this year.

6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?

I’ll take whatever sleep I can get. But I’ll write all night if given the chance.

7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?

Dogs.

(Don’t tell O. It will crush him to the bottom of his feline-loving soul.)

8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?

I’m 36, and I have 36 things to accomplish before my 37^th birthday. Clever!

But honestly? Not so clever. Because now I have to figure out what I’ll do on my 37^th birthday:

• Change my blog name to 37×38?
• Keep “36×37” but add a disclosure?
• Drop the blog, follow Radiohead.

It’s a conundrum, I tell you.

Anyway.

Here are the eight 13 bloggers (yo, I make up the rulz on these here pages) I want to tag, because I think they’ll throw down some clever answers. (If I haven’t tagged you, it’s because: 1) I’ve tagged you for something before, 2) Someone else has tagged you for this particular game already, or 3) We both know you’re not into this kind of thing. It’s cool. I get it. It’s like talking on the phone; not everyone enjoys it.)

• Harsha from H is for Happiness
• Amanda from AmandaBroadfoot.com
• Sunshine from Sunshine in London
• Carol from Crazy Notebook
• Shannon from Written Permission
• Betsy from Supergoddess Me
• Amanda from Amanda’s Wrinkled Pages
• Jacque from Freedom in a Cup
• Rachel from One Glass of Water
• Ms. Pearl from Pearls and Prose
• Laborious Living
• Perpetually Peeved
• Melissa from Confessions of a Dr. Mom

Thanks again, Wendy over at Herding Cats in Hammond River, this was fun!

By the way: I’m just one day away from completing my 13^th 36×37 assignment. It will involve assembling a group of women who haven’t seen each other in far too long, then handing them wine, then asking them to paint a picture. Intrigued? As am I! Maybe it will prep me for my Vegas trip in October, no longer a wolf pack of one.

~*~ Find me on Twitter @36×37
~*~ Visit the 36×37 facebook page

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