Giving St. Thomas Aquinas a “green” spin is a new one. Read on to see how Catholics can — and should — be environmentalists, too!

And speaking of St. Thomas, here’s an article on a forgotten Thomist…

That’s me today; I’m 33 now. As old as Jesus ever got to be here on earth.

Most of the time I feel pretty old, as I am married with three children. But a very small part of me (which gets smaller every year) still thinks I’m 25.

My body definitely is telling me that I am past my prime. The gray hairs have stubbornly established themselves, and I’ve given up on plucking them out. My back is shot from carrying fat babies — before and after birth. I even bought eye cream for the first time the other day, as the cumulative lack of sleep over the last five years of motherhood is catching up with me.

But, as I examine the accumulating wrinkles in my face, I am consoled that most are smile lines. My life has been better than I have ever expected; I have accomplished all that I have ever wanted, and more. I went to college, I traveled, I worked in the “real world,” I got married, I lived abroad, and I’ve been blessed with three healthy children. I am completely self-actualized. Anything else is gravy.

I can’t imagine my life being fuller, or richer, or more blessed. Life — and God — is good.

Dear Husband was presenting a paper at a conference on Green Thomism all day Friday and Saturday, but he was able to stop in for a bit on Saturday night to help me get the boys suited up before I took them out trick or treating.

Here’s Boo Boo as Lancelot (the greatest knight of King Arthur’s Round Table) and X-Man as Galahad (the most Christian knight, occupant of the Siege Perilous, and son of Lancelot). To arms!
I expected to go the distance with these guys, but they didn’t last long. Up and down two city blocks, and they were done. I was shocked to hear from Boo Boo, “Let’s go home now”; and later, “I’ve had enough candy.” X-Man, who turned out to be a glutton with candy, had a belly ache from all the corn syrup that night…

Believe it or not, we don’t give our kids birthday presents. Our families are so generous (thank you!) that the boys want for nothing, and could hardly handle more. I prefer making them their favorite meal, going out to a restaurant, or doing something with and for them instead.

So, for Boo Boo’s birthday, I asked Grandma Lisa and Auntie Krump to come with us to a gymnastics school for open gym.

Boo Boo had a blast on the many trampolines, the rope swing and the trampoline runway.

I hope that the memories of our experiences as a family will last longer than the excitement over any gift.

My beloved Boo Boo,

I feel compelled to write something to you today, on your fifth birthday, in the hope that you might read it someday soon yourself!

I want you to know, first of all, how very much your father and I dearly love you. We have great passion for your passionate self. I didn’t know how much I could feel about, think about, and love someone until you were born. You have been my main preoccupation in the last five years. Sometimes, it hurts me how much I love you, and how much I want you to be the person God intends.

Ever since your first contraction, you have been an intense, unprecedented force of nature unlike any I’ve ever beheld. Still sometimes, your father and I are in awe of you, and our minds boggle at how the Lord has blessed you with so many good things. To whom much is given, much is expected — and I know the Lord can depend on you to endow his Kingdom as you grow in wisdom and stature.

Throughout your life, I hope you never forget how incredibly loved you are — by us, by your siblings, by your extended family, and most of all, by the Lord. And I hope, someday, you realize and understand everything your father and I have done for you, out of love of you.

You have been a magnificent gift to our family, for which we will be forever grateful to God. May he continue to bless you abundantly, and prepare you for a life pleasing to him on earth and a blessed life with him in heaven.

We’re fairly confident it won’t be her last!

M-Cat had her four-month well-child visit yesterday. Her stats have gone down a bit, but she definitely remains above average physically:

Height: 25 inches; 80th percentile
Weight: 14 pounds, 11.5 ounces (I’m considering her 15 pounds, with clothing!); 75th percentile

Everything else went well. She’s getting louder and more talkative by the day, grabbing both sides of my hair and trying to eat my nose, and reaching for and taking objects — including the tablecloth, dishes and food. (Her progress reminds me of the crass, but somewhat true, saying, “The first year of children’s lives, you’re trying to get them to walk and talk. The rest of their lives, you’re trying to get them to sit down and shut up.”)

The boys are so well that I decided against taking them to their well-child visits. They don’t have the same protective cocoon of M-Cat’s car seat and cover, and I didn’t think they needed to be exposed to the veritable petri dish of H1N1 at the doctor’s office. I already know Boo Boo is huge; I already know X-Man is tiny. They don’t seem to be reacting to any unknown allergens. No new news there.

In this time of pandemic hysteria, we’re quite grateful to God for our healthy children; we pray that they stay that way! =)

Our darling girl has many adorable parts to her, but our most beloved are her two little fingers on her right hand. She has them in her mouth almost all the time, day and night, as she teethes and sucks and self-soothes.

This is our first child to do this, and hopefully not our last!

Her two little fingers mean that she can sit or lay or sleep by herself, and be just fine. She can sleep for six to eight hours a night without waking up. She doesn’t have to have Tylenol constantly to help with the pain of incoming teeth. And she doesn’t need a pacifier, awake or asleep, most of the time.

Who knew that two little things could make such a big difference?!

I’m clueless when it comes to football. I like going to football games (at all levels), and I like the sound of them in the background when Dear Husband sits down to watch one, but I don’t know much about the game.

So I hardly know what Boo Boo’s talking about these days. Adrian Peterson? Sidney Rice? Jared Allen? Who are these guys? They are Vikings players, DH tells me. Boo Boo has even begged to have a Brett Favre Vikings jersey. I never thought I’d see the day.

(At least I DO know who Brett Favre is … you’d have to be hiding out like Ted Kaczynski if you haven’t heard of him, especially with the hoopla he’s made recently in Minnesota. Sorry, Wisconsin, but I think we’ll keep him. Even I have figured out that he’s darn good. He really delivers … once he makes up his mind!)

Now, Boo Boo often says things to me like, “Remember in that game when Brett Favre threw that 61-yard pass to Sidney Rice …” and my mind goes blank. I can do Narnia. I can do The Lord of the Rings. But I can’t do the NFL.

Whenever a game is on, Boo Boo is almost glued to the screen — literally. Here he is at my parents’ house, perched on the arm of their couch, taking in a game.

I can understand Boo Boo’s natural inclination toward the sport, which is the closest most of us get to warfare or Roman gladiator competitions these days. He’s even pretty good at the game, if only his lungs were as strong as his body. DH told me that when he and Boo Boo went to a sporting goods store the other day, Boo Boo asked for some “football armor,” and DH caught BB doing Jared Allen’s victory dance of a cowboy lassoing a horse and riding it when Allen sacks a quarterback.

This is going to have to be Dear Husband’s domain.