The Most Holy Name of Mary

The Most Holy Name of Mary

I didn’t remember today’s feast. We didn’t do anything to celebrate. And yet tonight Mary touched me anyway. She’s a good mother like that.

Ben has been having a cranky week. Is it those teeth that stopped him from nursing back in June and have still still to actually break through the gums? Whatever it is, we’ve all been suffering and my temper has been even shorter than usual. Bedtimes have been especially bad. We’ve had a few in which there was no crying and screaming; but they seem to have been outnumbered by those that don’t end well.

So tonight when he’d ended dinner early by dumping his soup on the floor and then held onto my skirt and screamed at me, I was thinking it did not bode well for an easy bedtime.

So we changed his diaper (he screamed), brushed his teeth (he giggled—he loves brushing his teeth, the weirdo), then said goodnight to everyone. And then I grabbed the board book that had seemed to console him pretty well last night (he went to sleep clutching it), just the text of the Hail Mary with simple cartoonish illustrations. So we read that once then Ben closed the book and declared “All Done”. Then he reached out for a little wooden icon of Mary that was sitting on the shelf. I picked it up and asked if it was what he wanted and he smiled and clutched it to him along with his blankies.

So then as it seemed like he was in a good mood and done reading, I tried to put him into bed. I spread out the blanket he likes to sleep on, a soft fleecy one, and he giggled and I put him down. He clutched the icon and leaned over into his blanket. So I pulled another blanket over him and said goodnight. He giggled again and babbled a bunch of happy sounding noises. So I turned off the light, said goodnight and left. Easiest bedtime ever.

Thank you, Mary.

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