Hypocrites! —- {Guest Post from Tom}

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 A guest post from my hubs, Tom, on this first day of Lent. Really, an email I found in my inbox when I awoke that was too hilarious not to share.


Dear Hypocrites,


I hope that you all have a blessed start to the Lenten season today!

Today, I have washed my face, you see no dirt, only handsome smiles and joy;

Today I have not gone to church or stood on my street corner, I prayed in my room and I even locked the door, (I also prayed in the middle of my street);

Today, I have performed no righteous deeds, but have only continued to give myself sacrificially for my family, (and I pulled a guy out of  the river to save him from drowning but that wasn’t a big deal- really);

Today I put my trumpet on Craigslist, I am exchanging it for a gong and some cymbals… not that you care, but I have also practiced muscle confusion at the gym last night… We’ll see if I can confuse my right hand from my left when I drop the $20 in the basket today… I’ll let you know.

I did this all before 8 am!

I wish you all as half a good a lent as I am already having!

You will be in my prayers.

In Christ,

“Saint” Thomas


P.S. “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel”

What ever happened to the gospel of Thomas? Child Jesus turning clay into 12 sparrows sounds pretty awesome to me!

Postpartum Pointers

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So, I just discovered a memo I wrote to myself (yes, I always, always write my future self memos. Lots of them.)after I gave birth to Charlie, entitled “Postpartum Pointers” I am so glad I dug it up today, I really needed it! Thanks, ‘past’ Annemarie… ‘present’ Annemarie is grateful.

Anyway I thought I’d share it, just in case there’s other mamas out there who might need it too!


Postpartum Pointers!!

  • After you have the baby you will, I promise you, think one or all of the following:
    • We have too much stuff
    • Our kids are so badly behaved
    • We will never have peace and quiet again
    • Our house is too small
    • I can’t see the floor
    • How are they ever going to learn how to read
    • We eat so unhealthy
    • We don’t have a routine anymore
    • Is it really so wrong to lock myself in the bathroom this much

      Say it with me: Candy canes and TV, so I can breathe and go pee pee! Congratultions. You just survived postpartum-hood.

      Say it with me: Candy canes and TV, so I can breathe and go pee pee! Congratulations. You just survived postpartum-hood.

  • By 2 weeks postpartum, you’ll will feel a tiny grip on life coming back
  • By 6 weeks postpartum, you won’t remember why you were so upset and you’ll be picking out names for the next babies. (aka the fog starts to lift)
  • Go outside. Breathe in through your nose slowly. Exhale slowly through your mouth. Even if you can only step out for one minute, get outside at least once a day. Stick your head out the window if you have to! Just get some fresh air in your lungs.
  • Cry! It’s ok to cry, it’s ok to cry over everything. And you will cry a lot. Remember that there are lots of hormones entering and exiting your body during these next few weeks. Give yourself permission to be emotional. You are not going to psychologically damage your kids, this is completely normal.
  • Let the house get messy. Give yourself permission to be ok with it temporarily. Don’t put added pressure on yourself by needing the toys to always be in their proper place, or all the laundry to be done, or every dish to be washed at the end of a day. Just do what you can, if you can, and be ok with that. Keep telling yourself a house can only get so messy and it’s only temporary.
  • On that note: LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS. ALOT. This applies to: everything.

    "Oh, you don't have a baby in there anymore? Ok. Horsey rides. Back to work, lady."

    “Oh, you don’t have a baby in there anymore? Ok. Horsey rides. Back to work, lady.”

  • Sit down! It seems impossible but you must sit! Give your uterus a chance to repair. If this means watching more tv for awhile with the older siblings, it’s ok. You know that a month of tv overdose is not going to change them, you’ll be glad you did.
  • Follow the baby’s cues. It’s less work for you! Don’t come home from the hospital waking them up every 2 hours to eat. If the baby is hungry, he will eat. But if junior is sleeping…take that as a gift and rest up or spend time with the other children. No baby ever went hungry from sleeping too much. They’ll naturally set up a routine, one that they are accustomed to from the womb.
  • Buy prepared meals. Let it go for once and just stock up on them. These first couple of weeks, you are a slave to that baby, and nursing isn’t quick! So again give yourself permission to indulge for this temporary phase and keep frozen meals in the house, and for pete’s sake just order in a couple times! You’ll be glad you did.
  • Nobody ever died from sleep deprivation. It’s quite possibly the worst part, but it’s not going to last forever. Seriously. Keep doing your Lamaze to get through these days. Breathe and pop on the tv. It will be over soon.
  • Yes!! Relax, the older kids know you love them. Stop worrying yourself to death about how neglected they are from your attention. The best thing you can give them is a smile every day. Make sure you verbally affirm them and kiss them when they are near. Stop apologizing to them, they are learning sacrifice from watching you tend to the baby. They will be better individuals from learning to wait their turn, and put someone else’s needs ahead of their own.

    Numero uno. K, boss?

    Numero uno. K, boss?

  • No guilty feelings allowed! You can’t possibly give yourself the expectations of “the way things were” now. Things are different! You are different! Your family dynamic is completely different. Take this time to adjust, to change , to adapt. Stop giving yourself unreasonable parameters with your love life, parenting, and friendship skills. You cannot expect yourself to keep up with your old you. Thank you phone calls are ok instead of thank you cards!  True friends will not count the days you haven’t called!  Family won’t be disgruntled over unreturned phone calls. True love will not want you to feel guilty, it will understand the changes you are going through. A good parent starts with appreciating ourselves, and allowing ourselves to adapt, not stay the same.
  • Change is good. You are growing, the kids are growing, your husband is growing. You are all learning something new from this new child. You are all growing deeper as a family by embracing this new life.

    Totally worth it, though.

    Totally worth it, though.

  • Un plug the phone! Who cares if you miss a call. Take a load off, there is enough on your plate to think about and your attention is divided enough.
  • Up your ‘fats’ while nursing! Eat avacados, coconut products, REAL butter, whole milk… more fat = fatty breastmilk=baby stays satisfied longer (read- SLEEPS)
  • Wear an abdominal wrap. No, we know nobody cares about the pooch… it’s to help force your uterus to contract and get rid of any remaining tissue or clots. Do it, because your muscles are weaker then they used to be an they need the extra help! Plus, it will help you slip on a pair of jeans. (for that one time a month you leave the house)
  • Hug your husband. Bury your head in his chest and sigh deeply. His arms are stronger than yours to support you, to lift you up when you can’t go on. Lean on him, rely on him, derive your strength from him.
  • Talk to other moms for support. Re-tell your birth story, over and over again to appreciate the amazingness of what you did! Be real with other moms about how you are feeling. It’s ok to admit that you are tired or overwhelmed. It’s actually freeing to admit the truth!
  • Ask for help! Get over your pride and just do it. Help is always there.
  • Don’t put everything on your shoulders. It’s ok to ask the husband to do a wash (or, um… all of them), cook a meal, or help you find extra burp cloths at 3am. The baby is his, too! You know, he’s the one that’s always fertile… keep reminding him.
  • It seems like it lasts forever, but take everything one day, one hour, one minute at a time. Stop thinking about how you will feel/look like tomorrow or next week. You will get depressed or crazy. Just think about the present, because that’s all your brain space can handle right now.

    Eh, they'll adapt. Or something, right? The way I see it: "Look! God sent you another kid to play with!" Charlie aint so sure.

    Eh, they’ll adapt. Or something, right? The way I see it: “Look! God sent you another kid to play with!” Charlie aint so sure.

  • It’s ok to not leave the house for the first month. Or only when husband can take you. Stop giving yourself unreasonable goals. Who cares what the tabloids say about the Kardashians? You feel like wearing your pj’s all day and sitting on the couch for a month, then do it. You just pushed a baby out… you get to call the shots. It’s not lazy, it’s called recovery.
  • Priorites! Shower or feed junior? Well…you are last. Keep that in mind.
  • Use your shower time to reconnect with God. Don’t stress out about prayers, just talk to him, tell him your concerns and ask for grace! Shower time is a great chunk of prayer time if you think about it! It is also probably the only peace and quiet you will get for a long time. So lock the door.

    Adapting to the new expanded family! And Charlie giving Max CPR.

    Adapting to the new expanded family! And Charlie giving Max CPR.

And Jesus Wept

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I was struggling a little bit over here. The whole Paul Coakley story had my heart tied in knots for days. I was following it since the whole thing showed up on my newsfeed just before Christmas. That’s right, that’s when we heard about Paul, a Franciscan University alum, “a legend” according to my sister-in-law…who had been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. Just. Before. Christmas.10897104_1403222956640475_8266174565688072249_n

And he passed away last Monday. Barely 3 1/2 weeks later. His beautiful wife Ann, 7 months pregnant and three young children left behind.

My heart was, is– so knotted, so heavy over this tragedy and with it being right on the heels of Sarah Harkin’s death, I just couldn’t find the words or the willpower to write about all this. The emotional upheaval I was feeling on Monday was immense. And I didn’t even personally know either Paul or Sarah. Why, why?

Do I even have a right to feel this way? So connected, involved in this yet…not? Am I allowed to feel pain? Is it strange that every time I think of Ann Coakley having to delivery her baby without the love of her life, my eyes well up with tears?

All of this really shook me. I sat on the couch on Monday, after belligerently shaking the gates of heaven for days begging God for some miracle, and finding out Paul had died. I was stunned.  I had been so convinced, so sure of a miracle coming. Shocked and numb and…a little angry was how I felt.

My head was clouded, suffocated all afternoon with question after question for God

“Why does it seem like the good people are the only ones suffering?”

“What’s the point in being a faithful disciple, if the ‘lost sheep’ is the one fought for, protected? Shouldn’t we, the ones sticking it out through thick and thin get some benefit or protection for our loyalty?”

“How is this possible within six months, two devoted, faith filled, holy parents taken–just like that– from young families? Don’t we need all the good people we can get in this hedonistic society? “

“What is the point of all this? This life? If God wants us in heaven then why the heck did he put us through all this pain, suffering?”


In brief, I was having extremely earthly and naive philosophical questions. Because, well… because I am a human with human thoughts and human emotions. And I ask those questions fully aware of the correct answers but I ask them because  the reality of my human nature is raw. And it doesn’t want answers. It just wants to pound it’s fists on a table and break down crying,

” It’s just NOT FAIR”

And because you read stories like this and you have a ghastly moment of awareness when you go,

“That could be us.”

And you are scared. Truly, deeply, gut wrenchingly scared. I got thinking that I wanted to be done taking risks in my life with love, because more love equals opening yourself up to risking more pain. And I can’t bear the thought of something this tragic happening to my husband, or one of my children. I want to hide, stay away from everything,

leave me alone world! if I escape and hide, maybe you can’t get me suffering!”

I took these thoughts and convinced myself that it was all Facebook’s fault. If I wasn’t on Facebook, I would have never known about either of these tragic stories. I could have been blissfully living away in my little bubble. Happily ignorant of the profound suffering that my peers were going through. Selfish, I realized. Selfishly ignorant in my selfish little safe-bubble. Because I never would have been able to pray for Paul and Sarah. To offer my measly sacrifices for them and their families, to spread their story, to keep their memories alive. To ache and mourn together, as Heather so perfectly pointed out, like we are supposed to. Because we are the Body of Christ. And when one member suffers, we all feel the pain. Because, as my husband comforted me, “This life is our chance to choose LOVE

Pope Francis’ recent quote ” This kind of suffering can only be explained with tears.”  gave me so much comfort.

"And Jesus Wept"

“And Jesus Wept”

It is profoundly tragic what has happened. But I realized how much we need contemporary married saints. Married people who are holy yet from our era, relate-able, tangible… it’s too hard to relate to these married monarchs from the 14th century. We need them to pray for us from up there! Well, now look. Thank you, Paul Coakley for being a true example of Christian fatherhood and manhood. For loving your wife, spreading joy, protecting your family and fighting with every ounce of your being for life. And thank you Sarah Harkins, for giving us young moms hope and encouragement, for inspiring us with your example of holy wifehood and motherhood. For showing us how to above all else desire God and union with Him.

This is our time now, our chance to choose to love God. Love Him when it’s hard, love Him when it’s pain, love Him when it’s suffering, and love Him when it’s joy…. and with all the mundane moments in between.


“In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the Church” –the Apostle Paul, Col 1:24







#celebrating #dailiness

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I love the idea over on The Habit of Being to celebrate the ‘dailiness’ in our lives this 2015. It spoke so much to my heart. So much.


I’ve decided to participate and I look forward to appreciating the mundane much more this year. Join me… join us, will you?

Click on the  icons at the top of the blog to follow me on Twitter or Facebook– or find everyone participating by using the hashtag #celebratingdailiness :)

Happy 2015!


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8 years ago today, I was on my way up to the Divine Mercy Shrine with my whole family and my fiancee to get our brand-spankin-new engagement blessed. It was a day, a great gush of memories, I will always, always treasure. Maybe it’s the  baby I just had five weeks ago, or maybe I’m just feeling sentimental but I looked through my journals and realized I didn’t have an entry about this wonderful time.  So I decided to immortalize my memories forever on the world wide web. Actually, it’s just a heck of a lot easier to type than write by hand these days!

Hey, you don’t have to keep reading if your looking for sarcastic dry humor, because this could get a wee bit sappy.

8 years ago yesterday, January 5th 2007 was a really rainy day in New York. I was packing to head back to wrap up my final senior semester of college at Franciscan University. Christmas break was coming to an end, but I was really eager to get back to see my wonderful, wonderful, gosh-I-can’t-wait-to-marry-him boyfriend, Tom. Tom who lived 7 hours away in the amazing city of Pittsburgh, PA.

Rainy day, right? So naturally since I wasn’t going anywhere special or seeing any one other than my family, I sat around in my sweats and my oversized Columbia jacket, unshowered, listening to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack and simultaneously checking my e-mail  for the majority of the day.

I had reached out to Tom a couple times to but his phone kept going to voicemail. Which was odd. Eventually he called me back, and told me he was in the mall returning something from Christmas. He’d call me back later when he was done.

I popped on the tv in my parent’s basement and curled up on the couch with my pj’s and unshowered self when Mom stuck her head in asking if I wanted to go with her to adoration, then meet up with Dad and my sisters (like usual on Fridays) at Village Pizza. I really didn’t want to get dressed, and I remember actually debating if I should go or not. Honestly, I just wanted to talk on the phone with Tom…..eh what the heck. I went. I only upgraded my pj pants to yoga pants, kept the messy bun, make-up less, shower-less self in the super baggy hoodie and headed out with Mom. After all, I really didn’t care who I saw in this town. I had no one I needed to impress. Tom wasn’t here.

After holy hour, Mom and my sisters got ourselves a booth at Village pizza and we waited for Dad who was running late. It was pouring rain outside. Of course, because I was at the table, the conversation turned to wedding ‘one days’ and I told my Mom about a picture I had seen of a chapel length veil and oooo how I loved that veil, and I want a veil like that someday and…

“Annemarie!” She cut me off, almost exasperated, “You’re not even engaged! You’re not getting married anytime soon…”

Why was everyone still surprised to hear me talk like that though? I mean I only had been collecting wedding magazines since I was a freshman, and designing my wedding invitations since I was….like 12. And journaling about how I never wanted a honeymoon, just a homestead like the Waltons, and 7 kids and a wedding in a cotton dress with a black-eyed-susan crown…since I was like 10.  (I totally have the journals–and dress sketches– to prove it. What a hippie) Regardless, I knew I wanted to be- was called to be- a bride, a wife, since…well… since as long as I could remember. Nothing was more convicted in my heart, brought me more peace, than the thought of marriage. Especially to this guy, Tom, who I knew the Lord had led me to. (Another story, another day)

So there we were, waiting for Dad who finally bustled in all wet with his umbrella. He came up to the table and leaned over to me, asking me in a hurried way to quick run out to the Volvo for him. Because he had left something for my sister Katie, who was also heading back to college, on the passenger seat. He must have seen the hesitancy in me because of all the rain, because he insisted “Can you just do that for me?” I knew he needed to place the pizza order, so I got up, no umbrella, and jogged to the parking lot.

It was dark, and wet but the street was lined with beautiful white Christmas lights still. I made it to the Volvo and dove inside the drivers side to stay dry while I searched for Katie’s gift or whatever it was. Nothing was on the passenger seat. I checked under the seat if it fell, nothing. Nothing in the visor, or the glove compartment. Checked the driver’s visor and found an envelope. With Tom’s handwriting all over it. Huh?

I opened up the envelope and immediately the words “be my bride” “marry me” leapt out at me from the dozens of scribbles filling up the page. My heart did somersaults and I quickly turned around and looked in the back trunk of the car where I saw duffel bags. Tom’s duffel bags. I was sweating. Crap, I realized, I wasn’t wearing any deodorant either! In a matter of seconds, everything clicked in my head what was happening and by the time my body does what it normally does when I’m surprised—shake uncontrollably– guess who was standing outside my car window.

Tom, with an umbrella (smart guy) was motioning to me to open the door and get out. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, partly because I couldn’t believe I blew the surprise too soon and partly because I was totally stunned…I got out and all he said was


“hhhhiiiiii” I whimpered

He was smiling so much, and I continued whimpering and waving the envelope

“What are you doing here? How did you get here? What are you doing? I thought you were at the mall.”

He told me he just came to drive me back to school. I looked at him like ‘yeah. right.’

“Let’s take a walk.” He was SO calm, so….rehearsed!

“A walk?” I started blubbering, ” But it’s raining!” But he took my arm and led me down the sidewalk back towards Village pizza. We got to the corner crosswalk and he pushed the button. We waited and then, he turned around, faced me and put both his hands on my shoulders.

All I remember him saying is “You know I love you.” and I thought “No. Not now! I’m in my sweats! I haven’t showered! I have no make up on! I am SO GROSS! WHYYYY”

Then, he knelt down on that sopping wet sidewalk, and I kept shaking like a leaf and blubbering. Actually I was crying so much, I said “What? You have to say that again, I’m never going to remember this, because I just can’t believe this is happening” Cars at the stop light were honking. He was crying. I was crying. I was shaking, he wrapped me so tight in his coat to stop me from shaking, I had to explain, through blubbering that I wasn’t cold just so, so, so, shocked. So caught off guard. SO HAPPY!

After the elation, and excited chattering that happens afterwards— when he told me how he’d been traveling over 9 hours to get to NY on time via busses and trains and my Dad picking him up at the station…. he stepped back, reached into his jacket pocket and said,

“So do you wanna  see the ring or what?”

Because he kept the ring in his pocket, per his friend’s advice “ You always want the girl to say yes to you, not the ring”  But who cared about the ring at this point? The love of my life was going to marry me! I didn’t care if it was a rubber band!!! I was going to be Mrs. Tom Thimons!!!

Of course, the ring made me cry even more. I love, love, loved it. A solitaire round diamond, set high in yellow gold. Classic, and old fashioned. Perfect. Just like him.

So that’s how it went, and we walked back into Village Pizza where I shakingly presented my rock to my family, including other relatives who showed up in the interim for an impromptu celebration. My parents were busting open a bottle of wine, and the owner of the restaurant offered his congrats, hugs and kisses from everyone all around….and I was still in my sweats. Oy. So much for being low on the radar that day.

What a day. What a totally exhilarating feeling and unbelievable moment. How much I praised God, and still praise Him constantly. And still turn to Tom and say,

“Thank you SO MUCH for asking me to marry you!!”

and he always answers me the exact same way,

“Thank YOU for saying ‘yes‘.”

My ring!

My ring!

At the Divine Mercy Shrine, where we consecrated our engagement the day after he proposed.

At the Divine Mercy Shrine, where we consecrated our engagement the day after he proposed.

With my sister & maid of honor

With my sister & maid of honor

Just so, so, happy.

Just so, so, happy.


My knight in shining armor.

My knight in shining armor.

Re-creating the moment

Re-creating the moment


Best (and last) Christmas Break ever!


The corner where he proposed 11 months earlier….


Great food. Great Memories.

Great food. Great Memories.

A Bowl Full of Jelly

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Need some holiday cheer? Here’s my “bowl full of jelly” for you, courtesy of my postpartum brain. Lucky, lucky, you.

Let me tell you a true story. It goes like this:

Three weeks ago it was Black Friday. And I had a baby, after eating a ginormous breakfast, which was preceded by an even more ginormous Thanksgiving dinner. I looked like I swallowed the turkey whole. And my belly was stretched to the limit. I had told Tom there was no more room left, I felt like my skin was going to split in half. Funny enough, hours before I delivered one of my lovely stretch marks indeed cracked and started to bleed. Ah, what fun.

Sidenote: Where have I been since I last posted on October 6?! On bed rest, barely able to walk with a 10mm kidney stone, homeschooling, doctors visits,two birthdays,then surgery to remove the stone, then pre-term labor scare/8 day hospital stay, doctors visits, , then recovery on the couch again, homeschooling, doctors visits, Thanksgiving, Black Friday shopping, labor, delivery, recovery on couch again, and a partridge in a pear tree.

So I had the baby, my fourth baby! It was fast and furious (lol, sorry to all in the room!) but amazing. Baby boy is an angel, just so easy. Either that or I’m just super lazy this time around. Siblings are doing great, Dad is a freaking SUPER HERO,  Grandparents and Aunties are wonderfully helpful… I’m getting sleep and all…but well, um, I think part of my brain died during this whole process. Like the part of the brain that handles mental sharpness, or awareness, or logic, or even proper parts of speech. Gone.

I suspected something was amiss at the one week pediatric visit. Tom and I shuffled in with our diaper bags, stroller, car seat, coats, coffees and plopped down to wait for the doctor to come in. The nurse asked me to get the baby out to be weighed, and then she attempted to fill out paperwork…asking me all sorts of questions WHILE I WAS DOING SOMETHING ELSE. I mean seriously. I was struggling enough trying to focus on how to secure these darn diapers that I forgot were the size of croutons, let alone trying to field her questions. I mean, my brain space just died lady.

So when she asked me “And who delivered the baby?”

and I looked up at her with an annoyed look as if what? What did she think? Tom delivered the baby?

I quite rudely replied ” Um. I did.”

I was seriously taken aback when she started to laugh, as did Tom and she told me “Oh your a funny one.”

That’s when it hit me that something wasn’t right in my normally normal brain. And then I felt ridiculously bad for being so rude to the nurse, when I was actually the dumbo.

Later that week, as I kept requesting we get ‘feetprints’ of the baby for his memory book to which my Dad had to keep correcting me, “footprints. Foot. Prints” and still later when I couldn’t remember the names of my own kids…I knew I wasn’t the sharpest drawer in the knife no more. (it’s a joke, don’t worry)

So, aware of this great change I probably should have kept my mouth shut when we were in the grocery store last Sunday.

When we were walking out of the store, after a nice little visit with Santa and his elves, we passed through the candy section. The deliriously enormous candy and chocolate section of our neat little local family owned grocery store. It was decked out to the nines with sugar plum fairies and gingerbread galore. Piles of confectionary concoctions and chocolate everything. Among which were stacks of huge molded Santas made out of chocolate.

To which I saw from afar and toting a kid on each hand shouted way too conspicuously and pointed,

“Look guys! Chocolate Santa!!”

And it was then that I noticed the nice, big, black man, standing about 5 inches to the left of the display. Which didn’t help my pointing because it was pretty hard to determine what the heck I was so excited about.

Also did not help that he and I made eye contact, and I pursed my lips together and scurried out the door.

At least he didn’t have a red hat on. Now that would have been awkward.


Have a Happy Christmas, from our family to yours! May your days be merry and bright! And may all your Santas be….. chocolate ones!



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