And that means my little Maeve has some significant Irish heritage. She's not super clear on the whole concept of ancestors coming from other places, especially since our particular strain of Irish came to the US well before the potato famine, and even before the colonies became one country. But I have been talking to her a bit about what's Irish. I've played her some Chieftains, done my own special, off-kilter Irish accent for her... and, well, that's about it.
I haven't even tried to explain St. Patrick because really, this day is no longer even slightly about him. And she's had zero exposure to the Catholic concept of sainthood; I don't feel up to explaining it either. I mean, he converted a pagan nation and drove out the snakes?
But on a day like today, I'm mostly thinking about how lucky I am. Not just to have married a handsome, somewhat-Irish fella, but to have this life that I have. Beautiful, comfortable house, brand new car, two daffodils and two crocuses already in my yard, a darling, brilliant daughter and an affectionate if food-crazed dog. I have friends who love me, who are willing to pitch in when I need help, and whom I would do anything for. I have a family who loves and understands me, and I have enough spare time to learn the ukulele and sing in a choir.
|Our first St. Paddy's together - Maeve looks funny because I accidentally fed her too much squash and sweet potato... true story.|