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October 16, 2005 | By | One Comment


Well worth the LAX to DC red-eye! Only two more games till the state championship. . . And on to Orlando!


Yeah, that’s my sweet baby boy pummelling the kid in blue. Football is so primal. . . I’m amused when I hear these otherwise ladylike mothers at the games screaming to their sons: “C’mon and hit somebody!”

“Mommy, You Need to Buy Me . . .

September 1, 2005 | By | No Comments


. . . Princess Shoes!” (The Dancer with her fashion consultant.)

Boo on the Road

August 12, 2005 | By | No Comments


Baby Boo headed to Justice Sunday II. Tired warrior; the next generation. . .

Family Governance 101: Children of the World, Unite!

June 17, 2005 | By | No Comments

We were all headed out in the Black Rocket. I was reviewing with the Penta-Posse what they could expect from the day.

Some of the details were not received with enthusiasm.


Anarchists. Clearly.

Election Night 2004

The Dreamer decided she had some better ideas, and offered them. In a tone of voice which was, shall we say, ill-advised.

“And what,” said I, “makes you think [the part she didn’t want to do] is up for discussion?”

“I was just trying to offer a compromise,” she replied. (Still with the ‘tude.)

“Well,” I responded, “This isn’t a democracy.” (Okay, so that was a little snarky. . .)

Jack decided to clarify: “No, this is a benign dictatorship.”

Then, from the far back, the Dude (lovin’ the fact that his sister was in trouble) chimes in:

“No, this is ANARCHY!”

Baseball Blogging: Orioles Beat Astros!

June 16, 2005 | By | One Comment


The Diva and The Dude

with The Nephews

“Mom, c’mon, make some noise!”

One of life’s great joys: a major league baseball game with a ten-year-old boy. Bright lights. A summer breeze. The Sosa Swing.

“Woah. Mom. Check it out. 96 mph!”

Finally, I felt so guilty that I was having all the fun sitting next to the Dude that I offered to switch seats with Jack so he could enjoy the play-by-play commentary.

And the Orioles won.

# # #

Leaving the stadium, we paused for a moment in front of a beautiful memorial, honoring our veterans who made the supreme sacrifice. We are indeed eternally grateful. . . both to them, and to you who are serving today.


As a Memorial to All Who so Valiantly Fought

and Served in the World Wars

with Eternal


to Those Who Made the Supreme Sacrifice

to Preserve Equality and Freedom

Throughout the World

Time Will Not Dim the Glory of Their Deeds

Right Thinking Girl asks all the right questions on LiveBlogging Baseball.

Attaboy talks about the fellowship and the Great American Pasttime at Attending Services.

09 Jun



Thank Heaven for Little Girls: Congrats to George and Jeffrey

June 9, 2005 | By | 2 Comments


Thank heaven for little girls

for little girls get bigger every day!

Thank heaven for little girls

they grow up in the most delightful way!

Those little eyes so helpless and appealing

one day will flash and send you crashin’ thru the ceilin’. . .

* * *


George Stephanopoulos

and Ali Wentworth

Credit: Andrea Renault/Globe

Shortly after she became engaged to George Stephanopoulos, Alexandra, “Ali” Wentworth and I were riding the elevator up to tape Politically Incorrect. George was, at the time, one of Washington’s most eligible bachelors, so the engagement was a Big Deal here in the Nation’s Capital. Just to make conversation, I asked Ali if it was weird for her personal happiness to be such a big media event.

She looked at me quizzically, shrugged, and replied: “Well, it would have been the same if I’d married a rock star.”

Oh. Right.

Well huzzah for high expectations. She was actually quite pleasant, so I’m glad to see that my cynically low expectations for their union appear ill-founded. The Big News now is the arrival of a new Stephanopoulos: their second daugher, Harper.

You can read all about it at the Celebrity Baby Blog, which is a hoot. But they missed the news of another important recent baby girl arrival, blog baby: Caitlyn King!


Caitlyn King

But she’s a celebrity here: look at that cute face. Caitlyn is the daughter of Jeffrey King at [defunct blog]Three Fingers. Daddy and daughter and mom are doing fine.

The years go by too fast . . . we’re thanking heaven for our first baby girl, who turned twelve this week. Before you know it, you turn around, and they look like this. . .Happy Birthday, baby, I love you.


My sweet Dreamer

Photo credit: Helena Yoest

So Congratulations George and Jeffrey! And welcome Harper and Caitlyn.

While I am all teary over my baby girl’s birthday, my husband, Jack is gearing up for battle with the boys. He insists I send along to you new fathers his battle-plan — W. Bruce Cameron’s 8 Rules for Dating my Teenage Daughter, a must-read for every dad with a daughter. He thinks you might want to keep it handy. . .

W. Bruce Cameron’s Rules

Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure as heck not picking anything up.

Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.

Thank you to Mudville Gazette for Open Post

(** And if this trackback belongs to you:», please contact me: I owe you a link! **)

Update: Thanks to Wizbang with Carnival of the Trackbacks XV for helping to celebrate.

Update: Big Congratulations for another girl-baby blogger! June 6th, 2005 “BORN” Lillianne Grace Ransom. Newport Beach, CA. 8 pounds, three ounces. Posted by Greg Ransom at PrestoPundit, alerted byMusing Minds at Congratulations to the Ransoms

The world is a better place.

28 June 2005, Up Date on another baby girl alerted by Marla Swoffer.

Read More

04 Jun



Thank you for linking and for visiting!

June 4, 2005 | By | 2 Comments

instalanche 002.jpg

The Dude and Boo

Keepin’ Tabs on the Sitemeter

If you are a new reader, finding your way here through Instapundit, Powerline or Townhall, I want to welcome you. (Thank you Glenn, Scott and Jonathan.) If you are a returning reader, I want to thank you for your support.

Some of you may remember, from when I wrote about becoming a “Marauding Marsupial,” (!) that my ten-year-old son, the Dude, has this thing about me catching up to Instapundit. He’ll stumble down the stairs in the morning, still sleepy, “So Mom, what’s the number?” ‘Though he doesn’t need me to tell him: he checks the Sitemeter himself. He’ll report the numbers to me, complete with my hourly run-rate.

Some time last week, I walked into the office to find him at the computer. I asked him what he was reading, and he startled as if he was looking at porn. . . yes, you guessed it — Instapundit.

So imagine the excitement around here when The Link hit on Thursday. Then, Friday morning, Powerline and Townhall linked. I walked into the office to find the Dude and his trusty sidekick, Boo, monitoring the situation.

I thank you all for stopping by. I appreciate you! And I am grateful for your comments and support.

So let me know what you think, and do keep coming back. Do it for the Dude!

03 Jun



Arlington National Cemetery, John Wesley Yoest, USN, BMCS

June 3, 2005 | By | 7 Comments

Every time we’ve made the left turn onto Eisenhower Drive, and passed through the imposing brick gates of Arlington National Cemetery, I’ve been overwhelmed with emotion. Family members of those buried at Arlington National Cemetery are given a special pass and may drive onto the Hallowed Grounds to visit the grave of their loved one. It’s an enormous honor which makes me feel humbled.


The Penta-Posse

at Arlington National Cemetery

My husband’s father served thirty years in the United States Navy, and died the year I married into the family, so I didn’t know him well. And the fact is, after a lifetime of nine-month Mediterranean tours, wars, and rumors of war, there is a lot my husband doesn’t know as well.

However, over the 15 years that we’ve been married, I have gotten to know my mother-in-law well. She doesn’t talk either about the sacrifices she made, but there is one story that she has told me several times.

Once, when my father-in-law was out on tour, and she was home with three small children, the car broke down and, of course, she had to take care of it. My husband marched up and said, “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll fix it.” He was about five years old at the time.

My mother-in-law laughs. . . the little man, takin’ care of things. But it makes me cry.

We owe a lot to our military families.

When we visited Arlington this past week, we passed at least three funeral ceremonies on the way to Section 64. I lost track of the fresh graves and the still-standing tents, either just vacated by other grieving families, or awaiting the afternoon’s fresh, raw sorrow.

As we pulled up on Bradley Avenue, an Air Force honor guard was marching precisely back to their bus after a ceremony for an airman who had been a POW in Korea. While we searched for my father-in-law’s headstone, an empty horse-drawn caisson lumbered past, and settled briefly in the shade nearby, awaiting their next assignment. . .


We found my father-in-law’s headstone: The front has the Christian Cross with the old Chief’s Curriculum Vita. Chief Yoest cut high school to catch World War II. He retired with rows of ribbons and a “v” device, and pinned butterbars on his boy. He now has a grandson, The Dude, who bears his name and wants to be a Navy pilot.

The reverse of the stone is blank, awaiting the inscripton for Chief Yoest’s high school sweetheart, his wife, Jack’s mom, “Babcia” (Polish for Grandmother), who is still with us. In the end, they will be buried together, an honor she earned.

As we turned to go, the Diva took her jingle-bell necklace from around her neck, and left it on the headstone. A fitting tribute for a warrior.


Sailors, rest your oars.

We drove back down Bradley Avenue — past a fresh grave covered by a tarp. In front of us, sparkling in the bright sunlight of a gorgeous day, stretched row after row of white marble markers, orderly, peaceful, some weathered, others new and crisply chiseled . . .

I turned to the Penta-Posse. “I want you to look,” I said. “I want you to understand, that each one of these headstones represents someone who gave their life so that you could be free.”

They were quiet and solemn. The weight of it is beyond measure.

The Dreamer said, “Don’t cry, Mom.”

We made the right turn onto Eisenhower. We drove slowly toward the exit, passing the drive to the Tomb of the Unknowns to our left, until we came to a crosswalk thronged with tourists. The guard on duty motioned to the crowd to stop, and we drove through, passing through the gates, back to a busy day, leaving behind — the curious crowds, the chattering school children. . . and the silent stones.

Other Memorial Day Links:

Blackfive with “Opening the Gates of Heaven.”

Intel Dump

Marine Corps Moms

LaShawn Barber’s Corner

See Traffic Jam

Jabberwocky: Baby Boo on the Loose!

May 21, 2005 | By | No Comments


This one’s for our Milblogger friends!

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

He chortled in his joy.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogroves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Jabberwocky, Lewis Carroll

True Wealth: Kid Cred

May 14, 2005 | By | No Comments

Children: The new status symbol. So says Simon Doonan at The New York Observer:

Onto the landscape of Manhattan, a new and lethal status symbol has alighted—and it’s causing the J.A.P.’s and WASP’s of the Upper East Side to quiver with envy. No, I’m not talking about those impossible-to-find strings of oversized Lanvin pearls wrapped in black mousseline. Or, for that matter, those $20,000 Rochas dresses that are selling before they hit the racks.

Yes, I’m talking about THE THIRD CHILD. Call it the Grace Kelly Syndrome. You can even call it the Demi Moore Syndrome. Either way, three is the new two! That critical third child—quite possibly the status symbol of this decade—will get you more Park Avenue cred than a fleet of Bentleys.

(Wait, I’m still stuck on the $20,000 dress. . . give me a moment. . . )

So if “three is the new two,” then how ’bout five??!! Woohoo! I’m in! I’ve got kid cred!

Here’s my favorite quote from the article — Liz Lange, maternity-wear designer: “Many of the customers she met when she first opened her eponymous store back in 1998 are now on their third or even fourth child, she reported.”

Italics in the original.

Yes, imagine. What kind of alien being would have a fourth child? To be serious: a lucky one. (A Peter Lawler kind of alien, an alien just passing through. . . )

It’s nice for a change to read that having more children is becoming trendy because many people do tend to look at the Penta-Posse a bit strangely when we are out and about.

Mom, people are staring at us.”

I know honey, I know. Stand up straight. Smile.”


Today’s Ballet Performance

Diva, Dreamer, Dancer

The truth is, each child brings richness and joy exponentially. This last week the Dreamer hit her ballet mark, the Dude hit a triple, the Diva hit her note, the Dancer hit her brother and Boo hit his stride . . .

A tip of the bonnet and new, must-read blog over at feminine-genius. They are on my “read every day” list.