Mmmm....Lamb of God!

Daughter had her first communion on Mother's Day. That day was picked by, shall we say, higher powers who explained, "All the mothers will be there and none of them will have to cook ... except you, Jennifer."

Which was fine, don't get me wrong. Baby Sister and The Boyfriend came over the day before. We shlepped all over town and beyond and bought the food. The Boyfriend prepped the meat and still had time to barbecue us some incredible steaks. I thought Husband was going to cry, they were so good. Or maybe he was going to cry because he can't barbecue without either burning or drying everything out.

As a thanks to The Boyfriend, I asked a friend to make up a shirt for him. Which reminds me that I still have to pay her.

Husband and The Boyfriend walked over to a nearby sports bar to watch the Senators prepare for their golfing season. Meanwhile, Baby Sister tucked my kids in bed while I hemmed her new drapes.

And then Husband came home completely cemented.

I don't know how the whole house didn't wake up, but he was puking violently through the night. He now vows not to try to keep up with anyone. Or at least order a plate of nachos.

Yeah, nothing classier than going to your kid's first communion (or, heck, going to church for the first time since Baby Boy's baptism) with a killer hangover. He spent a good chunk of it with his head buried in his hands, rhythmically rocking back and forth. Thankful particularly because we had to sit at the front row, no chunks were spewed. Praise be to God, indeed.

The ceremony was nice and all. Daughter was very nervous and held my hand or my arm throughout. I spent most of the mass helping her relax. She and I brought up the offertory. It was then when I realized I forgot to put on my trademark "ho red" lipstick.

There were two other girls, from another school, who also received their first communion at that 8:45 am mass. One girl wore a communion dress from the Sears catalogue. The other wore a flowery-print dress from the Holly Hobbie collection. Meanwhile, Daughter wore a duponi silk dress I made with my mum (sort of: I was to make it on my own. Mum asked to cut it so she could have her hand on it. I got it back pretty much finished. I did the bodice and bolero). She also wore a veil my aunt picked up in Malta. She didn't feel overdressed. Besides, as my dad pointed out, all the old folks were coming up to Daughter to offer their congratulations and to tell her how beautiful she looked. Then again, they could be Husband's patients who owe him money.

I'll add more to this later. And there is more. LOTS more.