Three for Thursday

Item #1: The Ides of March

I should’ve known it was March 15 — without having to be reminded by the radio talk show host this morning — because:

· My internet connection went down for most of the morning. Grrr.
· My kids told me they’d be made fun of by idiot grade schoolers for the fact that their mother (no one ever blames the father) forgot to send to them to school with any number of items (from boxtops to pajamas to don for a Pajama Day celebration . . . there’s a never-ending slate of “special” days parents are supposed to remember, lest they be labeled incompetent nincompoops. FYI, I’m the chairwoman of Parental Nincompoops R Us).

But, just to be on the safe side and ward off any other Ides inconveniences, I’ll keep my eyes open for any suspicious-looking characters looking to go all Brutus on me.

Item #2: Let the Madness Begin

Even though my preferred college basketball team – the UMass Minutemen — is playing in the National Invitational Tournament instead of the Big Dance (*stomping my feet in vain over the injustices borne by teams from non-power conferences*), there are still Massachusetts teams in the NCAA tourney whose progress I’m following.

My fingers are crossed for the 13th seeded Holy Cross, from Worcester, MA. I’m a sucker for underdogs. (Plus my brother-in-law went to Holy Cross.) However what I’d really like to see is a 16th seed knocking off a #1 seed. That would put a giant smile on my face. But then again, I believed in the Tooth Fairy much longer than I probably should have . . .

Item #3: An Irish Kiss Off

My kids’ ancestors comprise a hodgepodge of ethnicities that cover a large swath of Europe. Among their ethnic identification is, if my last name didn’t give you a clue, Irishness. Although they’re only 1/8 Irish, I typically try to make St. Patty’s Day a semi-big deal in our house, attempting to feed the madness with Irish themed stickers and shamrock stuff, playing Irish music (okay, it’s just an excuse for a U2-a-thon, but hey, they’re Irish), putting the annual South Boston politics-bashing breakfast on TV and serving my three kiddos the oh-so-cliched boiled dinner – which will be eaten at my parents’ house this year.

Only problem is, the ingrates loathe the cliched meal, hate the Irish soda bread and typically show no interest in any shamrock craft stuff. They’re rather be eating chicken nuggets slathered in ketchup — anything that’s not green — and sugar by the pound. While listening to the soundtrack to “High School Musical” (which, if you’ve ever heard it, is like a highly infectious disease, the songs unconsciously settle into your brain and refuse to leave). And playing the Lego “Star Wars” video game until their retinas are singed.

It’s like a backwards version of the “Kiss me I’m Irish” buttons.

It’s an Irish kiss off.

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